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

by D. A. Roberts

  I turned to look at Spec-4 and nodded, and then she sprang into action. She unlocked the gate and swung it inwards, as fast as she could go. Southard wasted no time and headed right out into the street. I was right on his bumper. The zombies noticed us immediately and started heading our way. It looked like most of them were Sprinters. That meant that they’d be on us faster than I’d anticipated.

  Spec-4 was already shutting the gate behind us when John opened fire with his SAW. He wasn’t trying for headshots, but was working the SAW back and forth at leg level. He reduced the front rank of Sprinters down to Crawlers almost instantly. I heard the gate clang shut behind me and kept my fingers crossed. I heard the thump on the roof, just as the first of the Sprinters hit my window.

  I drew my pistol and leaned back into the gap between the seats, aiming up. She dove inside and immediately spun around to reach for the hatch. I saw the face of a zombie scrambling up onto the back of the Humvee and squeezed off a quick shot. I had just enough time to see its head explode as Spec-4 slammed shut the turret hatch.

  “I’m in!” she shouted. “Go! Go! Go!”

  I slid back behind the wheel and let off of the brake. Immediately, we started rolling. Then I punched the accelerator and we leapt forward. I turned hard and shot past Southard in time to see John dropping back inside and sealing his hatch. Southard pulled in right behind me and we were off and accelerating.

  I turned on the SINCGARS and started to adjust the settings.

  “Don’t bother,” said Spec-4 sliding into the passenger seat. “I set them both to the same frequency last night.”

  I flashed a quick smile at her, and then keyed up the mic.

  “Southard, do you copy?” I asked.

  Spec-4 turned around in her seat and mimed to Southard to use his radio by holding up her hand to her mouth and squeezing her finger as if she would key the mic. Southard got the point.

  “917 to 829, do you copy?” he said.

  “Copy 917,” I said. “Do I have any unauthorized passengers on my vehicle?”

  “That’s a Negatory, Ghostrider,” he replied. “You are all clear. You shot the only one who managed to climb up. Nice shot, by the way.”

  “Thanks. Tell John nice shooting for me.”

  “Solid copy,” he replied. “Do we keep the radios active?”

  “I think we can risk it. We’ll just keep the chatter to a minimum.”

  “Got it,” he replied, “917 out.”

  “Now what?” asked Spec-4.

  “We take a lot of back-roads all the way to the lake,” I replied. “With any luck, the back roads won’t be blocked.”

  “By abandoned cars or the Army?”

  “By either one. The roads I’m going to use are off the beaten path. They’re old two lane blacktops, mostly. No major highways.”

  “You sure you know the way?” she asked, grinning.

  “Yeah, I’ve driven it before. I get tired of taking the same route all the time. I found this route by playing with my road maps a few years ago. About the time I started restoring my boat.”

  “You really have a houseboat? Isn’t that expensive?”

  “A new one would be, sure,” I replied. “I bought mine salvage. It was new back in the early sixties. It’s a 34 foot Chris Craft Cruiser, built in ‘62. It was just a wreck when I bought it. My wife wasn’t happy about it, but she couldn’t see what I did. I saw what it would look like when I was done.”

  “And did you finish it?”

  “Not really,” I said. “Oh, it can go out on the lake and we’ve slept on it quite a few times, but it will probably never be done. Well, that’s for sure now. It was my project. I was always doing something to it.”

  “I bet it’s nice.”

  “It isn’t bad, but it won’t ever be called beautiful,” I said. “At least not compared to the half-million dollar boats you see floating around the lake. Mine may not be the nicest, but it’s solid. Plus, I rebuilt it myself. It’s not just an extension of my checkbook.”

  “I prefer something that took effort to get. I’ve never liked rich kids in flashy cars. They didn’t earn it. Mommy and daddy just bought it for their little spoiled brat.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “I’ve always worked hard for everything I have.”

  We continued on south heading out of town. Once we passed the elementary school, we started to climb a hill. I knew that over that hill was a bridge that crossed the James River. If there was going to be a containment road block, it was probably going to be there. A river is a natural way to contain zombies. It works pretty well to contain most vehicles, too. Despite being a residential area, this neighborhood was remarkably zombie free. There were a few milling around, but not many. As we approached the top of the hill, I slowed down and came to a stop.

  “What’s the problem?” asked Southard over the radio.

  “Just playing out a hunch,” I replied. “I want to check something before we top this hill.”

  “Copy that,” he replied. “We’ll cover you.”

  I nodded at Spec-4 and climbed out of the Humvee. I grabbed my binoculars out of my rucksack and readied my M-16, leaving the AA-12 in the Humvee. Moving to the right side of the road, I followed the sidewalk to the top of the hill. As I approached it, I crouched down to not give away my position. Spec-4 stayed a few yards behind me, providing cover.

  I crept the last few feet until I could peek over the top of the hill. Then I glanced around to make sure that there were no zombies close by and lay down on the ground. I crawled the last few feet until I could see over the top without being seen, myself. I didn’t see anybody in the immediate area, but there was another problem. The bridge was gone.

  “Son of a bitch!” I snapped, slapping my hand on the ground.

  “What?” asked Spec-4, from behind me.

  “There isn’t a roadblock,” I replied. “They blew-up the fucking bridge.”

  “I guess we’re not going that way, then?” she said, disappointment in her voice.

  I stood up and headed back towards our Humvee. I could see Southard giving me an expectant look. Spec-4 and I climbed back inside, and I fired the engine back to life.

  “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over?” asked Southard over the radio.

  “The bastards blew the bridge.”

  “Then it’s a safe bet they’ve done that to all the major bridges leaving the area,” said Spec-4.

  “Follow me,” I said into the mic. “I think I know a back road that they might not have hit.”

  “What if they did?” asked Southard.

  “Then we see how well a Humvee can tread water,” I replied.

  “They can handle water just fine, so long as it doesn’t get too deep,” said Spec-4.

  “That’s the trouble,” I answered. “The James River can run pretty deep, especially with all the rain we’ve had over the last couple months.”

  “Well, keep your fingers crossed,” said Spec-4. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  With that, I put it in gear and headed on over the hill. Just before we reached the bridge, there was another road that went to the west. It headed into a rich neighborhood near a golf course, but it also intersected a road that turned back south. It would have been faster to turn around in the road, but Southard was pulling a trailer and that would make it tough to pull a u-turn.

  A few minutes later found us back on track. We’d gone this way after we’d rescued Sergeant (now Sheriff) Daniels from the library. I knew that there would be quite a few zombies in the residential areas, but we’d gotten through once before. I was confident we could do it again.

  My confidence was shook as we approached the edge of the town of Battlefield. Nearly a hundred zombies were milling around in the road. As soon as we saw them, Spec-4 jumped right into the turret and got behind the SAW. It was a good thing that she did, too. I don’t think we’d have made it through if she hadn’t blasted us a path. I don’t think she put very many of them down permanently, but
she did knock a hole in the middle of them large enough to drive a pair of Humvees through and that was good enough for me.

  By the time we reached FF Highway, things were looking up for us. The road was mostly clear and once we were out of the town of Battlefield, I knew that the worst of the zombies were behind us. The area we’d be travelling through now was mostly rural farms. Sure, there were a few subdivisions, but not enough houses out this way to produce large numbers of zombies. Hel, I’d be surprised if we didn’t find more survivors out this way.

  I was keeping my fingers crossed that they hadn’t thought to blow up the bridges in the rural areas. I could understand blowing up the bridges on the main roads, but most people didn’t know about the back roads. It was pretty much just the folks that lived out there and the occasional visitor. My wife was a big fan of just driving around areas like that and exploring roads we’d never been on before. I’d driven most of these roads dozens of times.

  Outside of Battlefield, I took a left onto a farm road that led away from the highway. There were houses out here, but they were few and far between. That didn’t stop me from slowing down at the first corner and taking a look through the binoculars. I checked the area for zombies and only saw one. It was an elderly lady in a nightgown. There was blood on the front of her gown and she was coming our way. She was moving slowly enough that I could have gotten out and pushed the Humvee away from her and still stayed ahead. I didn’t see any others in the immediate area.

  I opened the door and stood on the door frame. Bringing the binoculars to my eyes, I started scanning the bridge area. Unsurprisingly, it was gone. From the amount of damage to the structure, it had to have been hit by an airstrike. There weren't even any of the support pillars left standing.

  “Well, we’re not getting through that way,” I muttered, climbing back inside.

  “Where do we go now?” asked Spec-4.

  “We try another river crossing,” I replied. “Eventually, we’ll find a way across.”

  I put the Humvee back into gear and turned around in the front yard of an old farmhouse. Southard followed suit and headed back onto the road, right behind me.

  “What’s going on?” asked Southard from the radio.

  “The bridge is out. We’re backtracking and looking for another way across the river.”

  “Copy that,” he answered. “Lead on. I hope you know where you’re going.”

  “More or less,” I replied. “I’ve driven most of these roads out here, but I’m running out of river crossings. Pretty soon, we’re going to have to either find a way around or pick a low spot to cross.”

  “Is there a way around?”

  “I’m sure there is, but it’s pretty far out of our way. It would take us clear out past Crane and over into Barry County.”

  “Isn’t that where Deliverance was filmed?” chuckled Southard.

  “No, but they do consider it a love story with a tragic ending,” I replied, laughing.

  “Great,” said Southard. “Let’s find another way across. We’re already close enough to hear the banjo music.”

  “If the next bridge is out,” I replied, “we’re gonna get a lot closer.”

  “Copy that,” said Southard. “Let’s hope the next one’s still intact.”

  We turned back out onto the highway and took the next left. We followed that for a couple of miles, passing only the occasional farmhouse. Although we weren’t seeing any zombies, we weren’t seeing any signs of life either. As we approached the stop sign where the road ended at a three way stop, I could see movement in the field to our right. There was a zombie in bib overalls, shambling along chasing a horse.

  The horse wasn’t having any trouble staying away from it, but with the fence still standing it would only be a matter of time before the horse got too tired to run. The zombie wouldn’t get tired. Eventually, it would catch the horse and kill it. I couldn’t let that happen.

  I stopped in the middle of the road and looked around. Seeing no immediate threats, I climbed out and leveled my M-16. It was about fifty meters to the stumbling zombie from where I stood. I took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. Even from that distance, I could see the head explode and the zombie fall.

  Then I calmly walked over to the gate and opened it. We didn’t have a way to take a horse with us, but at least I could leave it an escape route. Under the circumstances, it was the best I could do for the poor animal.

  “Good luck,” I muttered to the horse, as I got back in the vehicle.

  “You just can’t help yourself, sometimes,” said Spec-4, grinning. "Can you?"

  “That’s no way for anything to die. I couldn’t leave it trapped in that field, constantly running for its life with nowhere to go.”

  “Hey, Doctor Doolittle,” said Southard over the radio. “Are we saving animals now, too?”

  “I’ll save anything I can, at this point,” I replied.

  Putting the Humvee back in gear, I turned left onto the farm road and headed past the old Manley Cemetery. I could see a man in a black coat wandering among the headstones. As we got closer, he turned to look at us. Most of his face had been chewed away and his remaining skin had the pallor of limestone. Looking right at us, it leaned back and started shrieking.

  “Stop here,” said Spec-4, bringing up her rifle.

  I slowed to a stop and she slung open her door. Without getting out, she leveled her rifle and squeezed of a shot. Immediately the shrieking stopped as the top of the zombie’s head disappeared in a spray of red and gray. It collapsed in a heap next to a large headstone that I couldn’t quite read. It didn’t stand back up.

  Spec-4 pulled her door shut and gave me a satisfied nod. I put the Humvee back into gear and continued on our way. The road turned right just past the cemetery, but I didn’t notice the new name. I was too busy scanning ahead for the bridge. I slowed to a stop, again and brought up the binoculars. This time, I just looked out through the windshield. The bridge looked to be still standing.

  “I think we’re in luck, this time,” I said, still scanning with the binoculars.

  “Good,” replied Spec-4. “These things don’t get the best mileage.”

  I lowered the binoculars and continued on down the road. The bridge was still standing, but not through lack of effort. There was a huge crater just to the left of the bridge. The bomb had missed its target but had done one heck of a job on the river bank. I just hoped that they hadn’t done any major structural damage to the bridge.

  We approached the bridge slowly, keeping our eyes open for the next bombing run. At the end of the bridge, I stopped and took a quick look around. I could see about half a dozen zombies on the far side of the bridge. They seemed to be moving our direction, but hadn’t really noticed us yet. That would change, it was just a matter of time.

  I climbed out and brought my M-16 with me. I moved over to the edge of the road on my side and peeked under the bridge. The concrete supports were still there, but the one on the far side looked like it was cracked. Then I moved out onto the edge of the bridge. About three quarters of the way across, the asphalt looked like it was buckled.

  “Cover me,” I said to Spec-4, over my shoulder. “I want to check out the bridge a little better before we go out on it.”