Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (13 page)

I was getting ready to
take another right, when I saw movement up ahead. There were two people running from a mob of zombies. It appeared to be a man and woman. They were young and dressed like students from the university, in jeans and college sweatshirts. The mob was gaining ground and I could tell it wouldn’t be long before they were caught.

“Aww, shit,” said Southard.
“Wylie! Don’t do it, man! We’re almost home free.”

I ignored him kept going straight towards the students.
I completely missed my intended turn and there wasn’t another street between us and the on-coming horde. There wasn’t enough room for us to turn around, either. I had no idea how we were going to get out of there, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to save them.

“Damn it, Wylie,” said Southard.
“We can’t fucking save everyone!”

“But we can save
them
,” I said. “Wilder, give those kids some covering fire.”

“On it,” she replied, lining up her sights.

The staccato beat of the big machine gun started in immediately. I hit the horn to get the attention of the two kids, but I got more than I bargained for. More zombies came pouring out of an apartment complex on our left hand side. We were stuck in the middle of the block, on a narrow street with nowhere to go and no chance of another u-turn. There were just too many parked cars.

My mind began to race as Southard jumped into the back seat and got ready to open the rear door.
He gave me a grim nod and pulled out his Glock. I scanned the area quickly and didn’t see any options. With no other ideas at hand, I hit the brakes and turned the wheels to the right. I screeched to a stop in the driveway of an older Victorian-style two story house with a well-manicured lawn and lattice work along the porch.

The young couple made right for us as fast as they could run as Southard opened the back door and
started shooting into the crowd of zombies. Spec-4 was cutting down waves of zombies, but couldn’t get the ones closest to the young couple for fear of hitting them. She was devastating the ranks, but there were just too many to stop them all. It seemed like no matter how many they shot, more just kept coming from almost every direction. There had to be hundreds of them…maybe thousands.

The two kids ran as hard as they could and were within twenty yards of us when the zombies overtook them.
The last, brave act of the young man was to shove the girl to safety before they bore him to the ground. The young man’s anguished screams pierced even the heavy gun-fire. The young woman dove into the back seat. Before closing the door, Southard snapped one more shot and ended the suffering of the young man. Spec-4 dropped back down inside and frantically sealed the hatch. Then we locked all the doors and watched in horror as the zombies swarmed over the Humvee.

“We’re dead,” screamed EMT.
“You dumbass, you’ve killed us all! Why’d you have to play freakin’ cowboy?”

He was yelling at
me. The young girl lay in the floorboard and sobbed hysterically. Southard climbed back up into the front seat and reloaded his Glock.

“You should have left them!” scre
amed EMT, nearly hysterical.

Then I heard a wet smacking sound from the backseat, followed by a thud against the door.
Spec-4 had finally heard enough out of him. She leaned over and punched EMT in the face.

“Shut the fuck up!” she said, venom in her voice. “I don’t remember hearing you complain when we saved your worthless ass!”

EMT just whimpered, but didn’t say anything else. Southard nodded grimly at me and started reloading his empty magazine. I gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried desperately to think of a way to get us out of this. I might have saved the young girl’s life, only to doom us all to starvation or worse if we tried to make a break for it.

“It’s your call, brother,” Southard said to me, nodding solemnly. “I’ll back your play, no matter what. You did the right thing, saving that girl.”

“I just hope that we don’t all have to pay the price for doing it,” I replied, patting him on the shoulder.

“We’re not going to make it out of here,” he said softly, glancing around and the swarm of the undead that surrounded the Humvee searching for a way inside.

“Don’t give up, yet,” I said, staring at the windshield trying to see past the dead.

Between
gaps in the zombies on the hood, I caught a glimpse of the driveway beyond. Inspiration struck and an idea formed in my head. It was crazy, but it was better than staying here until the dead either found a way inside or we went insane and tried to run for it. We would either get through this or die trying. I wasn’t about to give up, now. My family was depending on me and I refused to let them down.

“Hang on,” I yelled and mashed the accelerator to the floor.

The big engine roared to life as the tires dug into the gravel driveway. Zombies were crawling all over the Humvee like angry ants and I could barely see where I was going. I whispered a silent prayer to whoever was listening and hoped this crazy idea would work. We were already in deep trouble. It wasn’t like I could make matters much worse by trying something insane.

“Wylie!” shouted Southard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I couldn’t really see where I was going. I just lined up on my last glimpse of the driveway and hoped for the best. I was doing close to 30 miles per hour when we entered the old wooden unattached garage at the end of the driveway. I didn’t slow down. In fact, I kept the accelerator pushed down as hard as I could. Wood splintered and exploded as we crashed through the back of the garage and out the other side. I heard a tearing shriek of metal followed by a crunch, and we were through.

It knocked zombies flying everywhere, and cleared the vehicle.
We bounced clear of the collapsing garage and smashed through a wooden fence and hedgerow at the back of the yard. The Humvee bucked hard, but kept going as it churned up grass and dirt. As we emerged from the backyard of one house and into the backyard of another, I clipped the side of an above-ground swimming pool. Behind us a tidal wave of water dropped the few zombies who had managed to survive the collapsing of the old garage.

I
cranked the wheels to the right as hard as I could and then back left again to avoid a rock garden with a waterfall. Then I shot through a gap between the house and external garage. The trailer whipped back and forth and knocked the supports out from the carport, collapsing it behind us. Metal shrieked as we shot under the collapsing structure and bounced into the street on the other side.

The wheels screamed in protest as we took
a hard right. I side-swiped a parked car and knocked it up onto the curb and into someone’s yard. It rolled over once and settled on its top. Then I slowed down just enough to turn left on the first street and got us back on course for the jail. Two blocks farther down and we reached the street that runs behind the jail. I grabbed my radio and switched back to the jail frequency.

“700, this is 829.
Do you copy?”

“Go ahead, 829,” came the
unmistakable voice of Lieutenant Murdock.

“We’re approaching the vehicle gate in a borrowed Humvee.
Are we clear to approach?”

“You’re clear, 829.
Welcome home.”

“Thank the All-father,” I whispered.

Seconds later, we turned into the parking lot and drove through the gate. It began to slide shut immediately behind us. We were safe; for now at least. A quick scan of the vehicle sally port showed the jail van, two County Patrol Chargers and one SPD cruiser, but no zombies. I had never been so happy to see the jail in my entire life. It was like a monstrous weight had just been lifted from my shoulders.

When the gate clanged shut, I put the Humvee in park and shut down the engine.
Then, I let out a big sigh of relief and felt the tension drain from my body. We’d made it. I wasn’t quite sure how, but we’d made it. Southard climbed out with his M-16 ready, and I did the same on my side. We circled around the Humvee in opposite directions to make certain that we didn’t have any hitch-hikers. Thankfully, there weren’t any.

The Humvee was pretty banged up and needed a coat of paint, but seemed no worse for wear.
At least there was no major structural damage, but my heart nearly broke when I saw that the M-60 was gone. It must have been ripped away when we crashed through the garage. That explained the shrieking noise.

“Aw, shit,” I muttered, glancing at the empty turret.

As the others began to emerge from the vehicle, I could clearly see EMT had a fat lip. I couldn’t help myself and gave Spec-4 a big smile. I’d really wanted to hit him myself, but she’d beaten me to the punch, literally. She gave me a big smile of her own. EMT looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. I’d let it go, for now…but I knew that eventually we would have to have a long talk. We needed him to get back in the game.

“EM
T, er, Larry,” I said. “Check the girl out and make sure she hasn’t been bitten.”

“No problem,” he said, and then added. “Sir.”

Lieutenant Murdock and Kris Newberry emerged from the Release Doors and came towards us. The L.T. had his right arm in a sling. Through a big smile and tears on her cheek, Kris Newberry grabbed me and Southard in a big hug. She clung to us like long lost family. It occurred to me just how many of us wouldn’t make it back to join in. I hugged her back, just as tightly. We might be all that was left.

“Thank God you guys
made it,” she said, tears in her eyes.

“It was a nea
r thing,” I said, shaking my head and running my hand over my scalp.

“By the way, Wylie,” she said
, smiling. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” I said.
“Traffic was murder.”

“Perhaps we need some outside, universal threat to make us recognize this common bond. I occasionally think how quickly our differences worldwide would vanish if we were facing an alien threat from outside this world. And yet, I ask you, is not an alien force already among us?”

- Ronald Reagan

We had plenty of help unloading the trailer. Lieutenant Murdock was thrilled that we’d returned at all, let alone with food, guns and ammo. I was still pissed off about losing the M-60, though. At least we’d made it back alive, and that wasn’t exactly nothing. I could console myself with the knowledge that we’d all made it back. The weapon was expendable. I would miss it, but I think I would miss our lives even more.

Once we unpacked, I laid claim to several items to keep for myself.
I kept the ACU rucksack that I’d filled with ammo. I also grabbed E-2’s Interceptor vest. I exchanged my Glocks for a pair of the Beretta 92R’s. I wouldn’t part with my Mossberg 12 gauge, though. Then I snagged the HK MP-5 I’d looted from the
Spud
cruiser. Finally, the M-16 with the M-203 mounted under-barrel. That gave me quite the arsenal at my disposal. I didn’t mind the extra weight. It’s better to have an extra gun and not need it than need one and not have it.

However, I’d learned my lesson the hard way with the zombies in the gym.
I needed a way to take them out without alerting every zombie for miles. Since I didn’t have a silencer, I needed an impact weapon. It had to be something easy to use, and it had to be sturdy. Something that wouldn’t break the first time I smacked a zombie in the brain-pan. I’d either have to make something or keep my eyes peeled for something to scavenge.

I didn’t hold out much hope of finding a medieval arsenal lying around, not that I would have turned down a nice mace or an axe.
But there were still swords out there to be had. Some were just junk. Prop quality metal made to look good, not remove a zombie head. There were still a few of the real thing out there. I’d have to be incredibly lucky to find one just waiting for my hillbilly butt to find it. A machete or a corn knife might not be impossible. Suddenly, a trip to the Army Surplus Store didn’t seem like a bad idea.

All in all, we’d done pretty well.
At the moment, we had more weapons on hand than we had officers to use them. Unfortunately, not everyone on hand knew how to use weapons. EMT and College Girl weren’t high on my list of people to give a gun. Neither was most of the medical staff at the jail. That could only end badly for anyone in front of them. We had to be careful who we let cover us and who got the automatic weapons. It was a recipe for disaster to give a weapon like that to someone who had no idea how to handle it. Thank Odin most of us were ex-military.

There were only about 25 officers who had made it back to the jail.
Some of the others were confirmed dead, while many others were just unaccounted for. A few were trapped and could still be reached on the radio, but that wouldn’t last. The radio batteries would only last so long, and when they went we’d lose contact.

I figured some of the officers that were unaccounted for had simply gone to be with their families.
Hell, I couldn’t blame them. I was planning on going for my family when I got the chance. Wherever they were, I wished them the best and prayed they were safe. I hated the thought of having to put down any of my friends. I don’t think I had it in me to put down family. I just don’t think I could do it and I hoped I didn’t have to find out.

Of the officers that did make it back, most were Jail Staff like me.
Of the Roadies, there were six including Southard. The highest ranking officers were my Lieutenant and a Patrol Lieutenant named Donner. Donner wasn’t going to be much help, though. He’d been saved by two Jail staff when their Charger rolled while running from a zombie mob.

Donner had a concussion and was banged up pretty bad.
Medical thought his back might be broken, too. They managed to pull him out of the wreckage and drag him up onto the road. Then they climbed into the back of another Charger. Twelve officers had been assigned to their position. Only four of them made it back. That meant that Lieutenant Murdock was in command, by default.

We started out by separating all the weapons by type.
We stacked shotguns in one section and assault rifles in another. Machine guns got their own section. It was regrettably small, by comparison. Ammo had to also be separated by type. We were in the process of staging all of the weapons and ammo when the radio came to life.

“700 to Lt. Murdock.”

“Go ahead,” he replied, looking up from his clipboard.

“We have a
Fair Grove Police cruiser at the back gate and they’re looking for Officer Grant.”

“Let them in,” I said.
“We pulled them off of an overpass. There’re four of them and one’s wounded.”

“700, let them in,” said the Lieutenant.

I turned to EMT and motioned him over to me.

“Get your gear.
One of them has a bullet in his shoulder. He’s gonna need medical attention, immediately.”

“On it, boss,” said EMT, grabbing his red bag and heading towards the door.

I had noticed a change in EMT, since the incident at the C-store. The little love-tap that Spec-4 gave him had helped matters, too. EMT might come around, after all. I hoped so, because we needed all the help we could get at this point. Once again it struck me; we were going to need more than guns to survive this. Assuming there was anything left to survive for. The dead were everywhere.

“So, what’s next?” asked Lt. Murdock.

“That’s an easy one, sir,” I replied. “We get those Fair Grove officers in here and get Medical to work on the wounded. Then we start planning rescue ops for our trapped officers.”

EMT and the on-duty nurse, Angela Barron, helped the wounded officer into the jail.
Nurse Barron had drawn the short straw and been on duty when all of this went down. I didn’t know her well, but she seemed nice. She stood a little over five feet ten inches in flats, and I’d never seen her in heels.

I walked over to the
Fair Grove officers as they came in. I was glad that they made it in. As long as it had taken us to get back, I figured that they would have beaten us. I’m sure that there was an interesting story behind it. We all smiled and shook hands, again.

“Welcome to the
Nathanael County Castle,” I said.

“Good to see you again, Grant,” said Wells.

“You, too,” I said. “What kept you?”

“Once we decided that Snider wasn’t gonna bleed to death,” said
Griffith, “we wrapped his wound as best we could and headed for Wells’ house. We gathered all the supplies we could at his place and headed in here. We had to take it easy and pick the route carefully. There were a lot of wrecks.”

“Yeah, not to mention hostiles, both dead and otherwise,” said Weaver.

“We ran into a group of idiots over by the industrial park close to the airport,” said Wells, “What kind of moron tries to carjack a carload of cops?”

“Yeah,” I said.
“I know what you mean. We ran into a group of gang-banger wannabes who thought they ruled an apartment complex. They would have been fine, if they hadn’t attacked us. The ones we didn’t get, the zombies did.”

“Serves ‘em right,” said
Griffith.

“The important thing is that you guys all made it here safely,” I said.

“Thanks to you,” said Weaver. “We’d have died on that overpass if you hadn’t come along.”

“Don’t sweat it,” I said.
“Let’s get you guys fed and re-equipped. We’ve got a lot of work to do and we’re going to need you guys back in the fight as soon as we can get you.”

Kris Newberry led them away to the break-room to get some chow.
The kitchen was still working and they had hot food laid out in the Officer’s break room. I took the opportunity to have Lt. Murdock bring me up to speed on everything. He told me that we’d made contact with several groups of officers. They were barricaded inside and on top of buildings. They were waiting for someone to come for them. Most were out of ammo and probably wouldn’t last the night.

Of the 25 officers at the jail, less than ten of us were in fighting shape.
Some had broken bones, several had bad sprains, and there were more than a few blunt force trauma injuries from wrecks and falls. There were even a couple gunshot wounds. A few had just lost their nerve. Hell, I didn’t think any less of them for it. I wasn’t sure how anyone could face what we’d just seen and keep their sanity. Maybe we hadn’t.

We might be facing the end of the world.
I don’t care who was right, be it the Mayans, Nostradamus or the fucking Hare Krishna’s. We were facing an apocalypse, and it was everywhere. No one anywhere was safe from what we could tell. That was more than enough to push even the best of us slightly around the bend. The thought of losing the entire planet to the dead was almost overwhelming.

It also turned out that we’d lost Bravo and Delta pods to the infected.
People with bites had been arrested and housed before we knew that the bites were always fatal, no matter how slight. Medical had bandaged the wounds and sent them to General Population without fully understanding that they were already doomed. Once you were bitten, you would turn. It was only a matter of time. There were
no
exceptions. Even a minor bite would kill you within hours.

They turned in their cells and then turned others.
It didn’t take long at all before the outbreak was beyond controlling in the confines of a pod. During open recreation, all of the doors were open and the inmates were allowed to walk around the dayroom and the rec yard. The jail had only a skeleton staff on hand and didn’t have the manpower to retake the pod once the killing started. All they could do was watch in horror from Master Control as the infection took the lives of both officer and inmate, leaving the walking dead to rule the pod.

The pod doors were holding, at least for now.
No one knew how long that would last, though. We were going to have to deal with them eventually, but we could afford to wait a bit longer. Our first priority was going to be rescuing any trapped officers that we could. I was just going to have to wait until then to go for my family. I hoped and prayed that they were still safe. So long as they stayed on the boat in the middle of the lake, I couldn’t see how any infected could possibly get to them. That left the real danger from other survivors.

I knew that Karen would fight like a tigress to protect those kids.
Elliot was my oldest son, and he was a good shot with a shotgun and a deer-rifle, too. He was also a chip off the old block. My wife constantly called him Wylie Junior. I had no doubt whatsoever that he’d fight to his last breath to protect his mom and his brothers. I’d have to make sure that he got one of the M-16’s and teach him to use it. But make no mistake; I
was
going for my family no matter what anyone thought. Neither Hel on Earth nor high water nor zombie apocalypse was going to stop me, either.

After a quick meal in the break room, I headed upstairs to Master Control to check on the status of all the officers that they were able to contact.
I was about half-way up the stairs when the shakes hit me. Nerves, I guess. I stopped at the landing in the middle and tried to get a hold of myself. I shook for almost thirty seconds before they started to subside, leaving me feeling weak and slightly nauseous. Yeah, it had to be nerves.

“Keep it together, old man,’ I whispered to myself. “You don’t have time for this shit.”

Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and then held out my hands to look at them. Only a slight tremor remained. It would have to do. As I reached the top of the stairs, I could hear the banging coming from the lost pods. The CO in me wanted to gear up, go in and break the riot. To go charging in with riot gear, shields and batons and force them back into their cells. It’s what CO’s refer to as “
Hat’s and Bats.”
But the problem was that these weren’t just rioting inmates. They were zombies, and yelling “Lockdown” just wouldn’t work. Neither would pepper spray, tasers or tear gas.

Once inside Master Control, I found Lt. Murdock already studying a clipboard.
His demeanor was grim as he read the information. I took a moment to steady my voice and control my breathing. I still felt pretty weak, but it was slowly passing. It had subsided enough that I could ignore it, for now. It’s not like I had much choice in the matter, anyway. I couldn’t afford to be out of the fight.

“What’s the situation, L.T.?”

“Not good,” he replied without looking up. “Some of these officers are no longer responding to radio calls.”

“That may not mean anything, sir.
My radio died before we even made it to our roadblock. You know as well as I do that our batteries are pure crap.”

“That’s true.
But nevertheless, I’d feel better if I could speak to them and let them know we’re coming.”

“I wouldn’t give up on them, sir.
It’s worth trying for them, anyway.”