Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga)

by D. A. Roberts

  “Very slowly,” said Graham. “Getting here alive cost us all of our ammo.”

  “If you still have your weapons, we’ve got plenty of ammo,” said Spec-4.

  Burton was carrying a duffle bag and a backpack.

  “Two Glocks, two shotguns and one AR,” he said, holding up the range bag.

  “We’ve got ammo for all of those,” said Southard. “I’ll load you up.”

  “Good to see you, Chuck,” said Burton.

  “Likewise,” said Southard, grinning.

  “Do you two need a room?” I asked, chuckling.

  Burton smiled and flipped me the bird, then handed me a backpack. It clinked when I took it from him. There were ten bottles in it, two of each of the variety of Bushmills. My face must have lit up like a kid on Christmas Morning. I swear, I almost kissed that man.

  “Do you need a room?” asked Spec-4, chuckling.

  Graham handed Southard another big duffle bag. It was filled with coffee.

  “Damn it, Wylie,” said Southard. “Why do you get whiskey and I get coffee?”

  “Because I’m prettier than you,” I replied, smiling.

  We all fell back into our seats, laughing. Spec-4 slid into the seat next to me.

  “You’re sharing the whiskey, right?” she asked, grinning.

  “Of course,” I replied. “What’s the point in having whiskey if you won’t share it?”

  I stashed my whiskey and tobacco under my seat. No sense leaving it out where it might get tripped over or spilled. That would’ve been a crying shame. Karen wasn’t going to be happy with me. I only rarely had a drink at home and she made me quit chewing years ago. Now I was chewing and drinking again. Oh well, I might as well enjoy myself. I could be dead in an hour.

  “Where to, now?” asked Sanders.

  “Can you get through the intersection at the By-pass?”

  “Yeah, I think so. It’ll be tricky, but I can do it.”

  “Good,” I replied. “Turn left onto the by-pass and head south. The next group is holed up in a Drugstore at Battlefield and Campbell. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

  Chapter Nine

  Filling a Prescription

  “It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died.

  Rather we should thank God that such men lived.”

  - General George S. Patton

  Sanders continued on towards the intersection at the by-pass. Burton and Graham had been right, it was a complete mess. I could see what was left of their Charger. It was mangled almost beyond recognition. It was a miracle that either of them survived. It had been hit by a red Chevy pick-up, which was now lying on its side with the entire front end crushed. There were several zombies milling around the area, but not any large groups.

  “Damn,” said Sanders. “That dude must have really been flying when he hit you guys.”

  “He sure was,” replied Burton, “right through the windshield. Unless he got back up, what’s left of him should still be under that Buick over there.”

  “Ouch,” I said, wincing.

  EMT came up to me and smiled.

  “How are they, Larry?” I asked.

  “Well, all things considered, not too bad. Cuts, bruises, maybe a couple of bruised ribs, but I don’t think anything’s broken. I gave them both a shot to ease the pain. Nothing strong enough to make them loopy, just a low dose.”

  “What about the women?”

  “It’s about what you’d expect. They’ve got bruises mostly. There may be some other injuries that I won’t be able to check on a bus. It’s more emotional trauma than physical. I’m afraid I can’t help them with that. I gave them all a big dose of antibiotics and had to sedate one of them.”

  “You did good, Larry. I’m glad you came along.”

  “I am too. But those bikers really pissed me off. I’m actually glad you took them out.”

  “Yeah, so am I,” said Spec-4. “I just wish we’d have gotten there sooner.”

  “Yeah,” he said, but he looked like he wanted to say more.

  “Is there something on your mind, Larry?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah, uh, sort of,” he stammered. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Sure. Name it.”

  “Can you teach me to shoot?”

  “Yeah, I will,” I said. “If you want to learn, I’d be glad to teach you.”

  Sanders threaded the needle, taking the bus through the middle of the wreckage and abandoned cars. A few zombies ran up to us and started pounding on the side of the bus. One was dressed in the uniform of a postal carrier. The mail-zombie tried to climb up onto the hood of the bus, but lost his grip and fell beneath the wheels.

  “Sorry,” said Sanders, “insufficient postage.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Sanders really was enjoying himself. You could tell by the big goofy grin on his face.

  “Did you think that up all by yourself, Cal?”

  “Yeah, I should do stand-up.”

  Then we were clear and accelerating south down the by-pass. There were abandoned cars all along the road, but most of them were off on the shoulder. We were making good progress until we hit the stoplight at Battlefield. There was a Stop ‘n’ Rob there, and it was under siege. More than fifty zombies were trying to force their way inside the store, while a group of survivors were desperately trying to keep them out.

  Some were piling anything they could find up against the windows, and others were trying to reinforce the doors. The glass doors were holding, but cracks were beginning to appear and it would only be a matter of time before the zombies got inside and the killing started. I could see men, women and children inside. There was no way in hell I was going to pass by without helping.

  “Lock and load!”

  Sanders was already slowing down and edging into the parking lot.

  “I knew you were going to say that,” he said, with a smirk.

  We didn’t bother disembarking, this time.

  “Everyone with a weapon, open the nearest window and pick your targets. Take your shots carefully. There are kids inside that store.”

  Windows flew open, and everyone except EMT and the women we rescued from the strip club started taking aim. Cassie Bennett joined in, grabbing one of the deer rifles we’d confiscated during her rescue. When everyone was in position, I gave the order to fire. I was happy to see everyone taking careful aim. Within less than a minute, most of the zombies lay dead on the ground and the few who remained were coming towards us.

  The rest fell before they made it across the parking lot. When the last one fell, we all stopped firing. For a few seconds, silence reigned supreme. The only sound I could hear was the sound of our breathing and the wind. The smell of gunpowder filled the bus. Then the front of the store flew open and people began pouring out. This time was different than when we liberated the Dollar Store. This time people cheered us and waved as they ran for their cars. People smiled and waved, and honked their horns as the parking lot quickly emptied. Two women came running towards us, each holding a small child in their arms.

  “Open the door,” I yelled.

  Sanders quickly yanked the lock out of the door and pulled it open. The women hurried inside, nearly hysterical with relief. The first woman, a tall blonde was holding a small boy of about six. The other woman, a brunette of about average height, was holding a girl that looked to be about three.

  “Please help us,” said the blonde.

  “Of course, we will,” I replied. “What happened?”

  “We were trying to get out of town when we got ran off the road by a pick-up. We barely made it to the store before the zombies caught us. We’ve been trapped in there all night, praying someone would rescue us.”

  Burton & Graham exchanged a glance and smirked. I had the distinct feeling that the pick-up that had ran them off the road had been the same one that had crashed into them.

  “Where are your families?” I asked.

  “My husband’s in Iraq,” said the brunette.


  “Mine is in town, somewhere,” said the blonde. “He’s with the Springfield Police.”

  “We’re on our way to rescue some trapped officers,” I said. “Then we’re returning to the jail.”

  “Ok,” said the brunette. “That’s fine with me, so long as we don’t have to go back out there with those things.”

  “You’re welcome to stay with us,” I said. “Just keep to the back of the bus when we start shooting. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “Thank you,” said the blonde. “My name is Grace Ellison and this is my son Craig.”

  The little boy smiled and waved at me, but he still looked half scared to death. I returned the smile and said, “Nice to meet you, Craig.”

  “I’m Connie Boyd, and this is my daughter Molly,” said the brunette.

  “Hello, Molly,” I said. “I’m Wylie Grant with the Sheriff’s Office.”

  “Thank you, Deputy Grant,” said Grace.

  I didn’t correct her on the title. I’m still wasn’t comfortable with being called Sheriff.

  “Anytime, ma’am. That’s what we’re here for.”

  They headed to the back of the bus and EMT followed to check them out. He would say it was to make sure they were ok, but I knew he was looking for bites. I was starting to appreciate EMT more and more.

  “Damn it, Wylie,” said Southard. “We’re filling up this bus pretty fast.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I replied, quietly. “But I won’t leave them behind.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest it,” he replied. “It’s just an observation. If we keep up this pace, we’ll be making more than one trip.”

  Sanders pulled back out onto Battlefield and continued on towards our next objective. As we approached the next stoplight, we were within a few blocks of my house. There on the right was the gas station where I’d filled up my tank just before all this started. I had a sudden pang of homesickness. I wanted to go home, in the worst way. I wanted to walk in my front door and find my wife and kids there waiting for me. Yeah, and the big, dumb dogs too. I wanted to go home and all of this to be a bad dream.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t a dream. It was a damned nightmare, and one that I couldn’t wake up from. My family wasn’t there, and neither were the dogs. If anyone was there at all, it would probably be a zombie from my neighborhood. I stared off down the road that I would have turned on to go home, completely lost in my thoughts. Spec-4 had to grab my arm to get my attention.

  “Earth to Wylie,” she said. “Are you ok?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, shaking my head. “That’s my neighborhood right there. My house is right down that street.”

  Spec-4 didn’t say a word. She just put her hand on my shoulder and nodded. There really weren’t any words of comfort and I’m pretty sure that Hallmark doesn’t make a “Sorry the zombies ate your neighborhood” card. I shook my head and forced myself to get back to the here and now. I couldn’t afford to be distracted. That’s the kind of thing that can get you killed.

  By the time we approached the next stoplight, I was back to normal. Spec-4 didn’t comment, and no one else seemed to have noticed. We’d been passing lots of zombies, but none of them were in groups larger than a half dozen. That was good news, but I knew it wouldn’t last. We were heading into the main part of the south-side business district. The Battlefield Mall was ahead of us, and so were dozens of other businesses. The odds of us running into another large horde were pretty good.

  At the corner we had to come to a stop. The intersection was almost completely blocked. There was another Stop ‘n’ Rob on the southwest corner of the intersection, and it was on fire. It was burning completely out of control. From the condition of the place, you could tell that the fuel tanks had gone up. There were two fire trucks parked close by, but no one was fighting the fire. I could see a couple firefighter zombies wandering around, but the truck hoses were slack. I guessed that the trucks had long since run out of water.

  “I wonder how long that’s been burning?” said Spec-4.

  “With all the fuel in those tanks, I bet it’s been burning for quite a while,” I replied. “It’ll be burning for days.”

  “We’d better stay clear,” said Sanders, swinging the bus to the other side of the road.

  Both sides of the intersection were blocked with cars of all types. Getting through was going to be tricky. Sanders picked his way towards the least blocked part and picked a target to knock out of the way. I wanted to cry when he smashed the side of a vintage Corvette. It was horribly painful to watch, but completely unavoidable if we wanted to get through.

  “I wonder if there’s anything left in their armory,” said Sanders, gesturing at the Southside Headquarters of the Springfield Police.

  “No time to check, right now,” I said. “But we should at least keep it in mind.”

  I was making mental notes all along our path. The SPD headquarters may very well have weapons and ammo left inside. I doubt seriously that they were able to deploy completely. We were all caught unprepared. From what I was seeing, they got hit worse than we did. The worst of the attacks by the zombies were in town and they patrolled exclusively inside the city limits.

  Almost right across the street from the SPD building was a Grocery Warehouse. Right there was both a source of weapons and food, and they were practically right on top of one another. One-stop shopping, so long as neither building was overrun with zombies. The canned goods in the warehouse would be good for a long time, even if the power ran out. But the meat in the coolers would only last as long as the power did.

  It was still on in this area, but I knew that wouldn’t last. I was really amazed that it had lasted this long. I used to complain about Springfield City Utilities, but it looks like they really knew how to build a grid. Even with all of the buildings burning and power lines knocked down, the grid was still working. My guess was that some areas were already dark, but the big industrial grids were holding…for now, anyway.

  I put those thoughts away, for the moment, and re-focused on getting us to the officers that were trapped. As we approached a major intersection at the Expressway, I could see that the intersection was going to be impassible. There were too many cars, and in the middle was a wreck involving at least ten cars. We could get through there, if we had a tank. But the old gray bus just wasn’t going to cut it. We had to divert.

  “Cal,” I said. “Go left through the industrial center.”

  “Yeah,” he replied, “no way we’re getting though all of this without a bulldozer.”

  The path through the industrial park was mostly clear. We were passing a lumber yard and a beer distributor. I had to resist the urge to have Sanders pull over.

  “Easy, Wylie,” I whispered. “Rescue the people, not the beer.”

  Spec-4 heard me and chuckled.

  “Take it easy, there,” she chided. “I thought you already had a bag full of Irish whiskey.”

  “Oh yeah,” I responded, grinning. “Never mind the beer. I’ve got Bushmills.”

  As we rounded a corner, we came out next to a storage facility. I could see ahead of us that the Expressway was still blocked. I wasn’t sure if we could get through, or not. There weren’t many zombies roaming around our area, but I knew that was about to change. We were heading into a residential area with several apartment buildings and more than one church.