Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (17 page)

At the edge of the water, I could see where something was bobbing in the water. The current had swept it against the gravel bar, but it wouldn’t take long before the current caught it and pulled it away. I angled the canoe and headed for the edge of the bar, running us right up onto the shore. Spec-4 leapt out and dragged the canoe up onto the rocks.

Before it settled, I was out of the canoe and heading for the object in the water. It was a body. I grabbed it by the back of the shirt and hauled it out of the water. Instantly, I recognized it as the
Sprinter
that Elliott had taken into the water with him. I jumped back, expecting it to attack me. I knew that the water wouldn’t have killed it. The dead can’t drown.

When it settled back in the water and I could see its face, I could clearly see the wound on its forehead. Through the gore and vegetation that was clinging to it, I could see that it had
a knife wound to the forehead. The wound was too perfect for a rock in the water to have made it. I splashed back into the water to get a better look at it, hoping for some sign of Elliott.

“He had to have survived,” I shouted. “This thing has been stabbed.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she replied. “I’ve got tracks over here.”

I trudged back out of the water and headed for the far side of the gravel bar where Spec-4 was kneeling. There in the mud at the edge of the water was the familiar impression of a boat.
I also saw two sets of tracks, leading back to the boat. From the depth and spacing of the tracks, it looked like they had been carrying something heavy.

“These are the same tracks I saw back at the boat ramp,” I said, pointing. “Only this time they were carrying something. It has to be Elliott. They took my son.”

“You can tell all of that from tracks?” asked Spec-4, surprised.

“John
Banner could tell you more than I can,” I said, heading back towards the canoe. “I can track. He’s a born tracker. I wish we had him here.”

“What do we do now?”

“We follow them,” I said, picking up my radio from my pack.

I clicked on the radio and keyed up the handset.

“829 to 917,” I said.

There was a moment’s hesitation, and then Southard’s voice came back loud and clear.

“Go for 917,” was the reply.

“Are you back inside?” I asked.

“Affirmative,” he said. “I ran into a few stragglers, but nothing I couldn’t handle. What’s your E.T.A.
[14]
back here?”

"I'm following some tracks," I replied. "It looks like someone loaded Elliott into a boat and took him downstream."

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" asked Southard.

"Until I find him," I replied. "I'm going to find my son."

"Copy that," he said. "Keep us updated as long as you're in range."

"Clear," I said. "Grant out."

I shut the radio off and returned it to my pack. When I stood back up, Spec-4 was waiting for me with a concerned look on her face.

"Do you really think they have him?" she asked.

"The zombie made it here," I replied. "It's reasonable to assume that he did, as well. Whoever was in the boat must have found him. They could have taken him prisoner and headed down river."

"Or they might have found him hurt and took him back to
their camp for medical attention," she countered.

"I suppose," I said. "Either way, I'm going after them."

"How do you know they went down river?" she asked.

"We would have passed them if they came back our way," I replied. "Besides that, they'd need a motor to move up river. Especially in this current."

"Yeah," she acknowledged. "I suppose you're right."

I slid the canoe back into the water and angled it towards the current. Spec-4 sli
d into the front of the canoe as I held it steady. Once she was seated, I stepped into the back and quickly took my place. With one pull on the paddles, we slipped back out into the current and shot downstream. With the river up, we were going to have our work cut out for us with submerged logs and snags. That meant that whoever had Elliott would be having the same problems. If we hurried, we might catch them before sundown.

"
No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man."

-
Heraclitus

We fought the current until the sun was sinking low in the sky. Every time we passed a spot that a boat could be put ashore, I looked carefully for any sign of our quarry. The only places we avoided were close to farmhouses. I didn't want to approach any of them for fear of finding more of the dead. I saw no sign of a boat that had been dragged ashore.

I figured that whoever had Elliott, must have had something bigger than a canoe. If they were in a canoe carrying the weight of three people, we should have overtaken them. I could think of no other explanation for
their speed than a flat-bottomed river boat with a motor on it. It would be enough of an advantage to make them almost impossible to catch.

Where we decided to put in for the night was near a gravel bar in the center of the river. I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of sleeping in the middle of the river, but I thought our chances of avoiding the undead would be better. So long as it didn't rain, the river should be on its way down, not continuing to rise. That's what I kept telling myself, anyway.

We made a fast camp and I sat about building a small fire while Spec-4 checked in on the radio. By the time she had finished, I had a decent fire and was improvising a fishing pole to try my luck in the shallows next to the gravel bar. It was fairly easy to make a pole out of a sapling, but making a line and a hook was somewhat daunting.

We didn't have a full pack, since we were only planning on securing buildings today. We had plenty of ammo, first aid kits, water and even a couple of
MREs each. We hadn't planned for anything like this. Hell, we didn't even have our sleeping bags or a tent. I knew that we'd be getting close to a couple of different campgrounds in the morning. If they weren't overran by the dead, we'd raid for supplies there.

"Southard says we're still getting a good signal," she said. "Even in the bunker, he's having no problems hearing us."

"The radios we found in the cache were much better than what we were using," I replied, not looking up from my work. "I figure they probably have a ten or twenty mile range."

"How far do you think we made it?"

"I'm not sure," I answered. "With the river up, I don't see a lot of the landmarks I'm used to seeing. I'd guess five to seven miles, at the most."

"We didn't pack for a long trip," she said. "I only have two
MREs."

"Number nine," I said. "Perseverance."

"What?"

"Number nine," I replied, glancing up at her. "The Nine Noble Virtues. Courage, Truth, Honor, Fidelity, Discipline, Hospitality, Self Reliance, Industriousness and Perseverance. If we persevere, we will find what we seek."

Tying a spare boot-lace to the end of a bent key-ring, I secured the other end to the sapling that I had already prepared. I moved a couple of large rocks before I found what I was looking for.

"
Worms," I said. "You see…perseverance."

Spec-4 watched as I slipped a worm on my makeshift hook and began dangling it in the water. In the shallow and still water near the rocks, I watched for any signs of fish. I had to try several spots before I found anything that even looked promising. Spec-4 just shook her head and headed back over by the fire.

Fifteen minutes later, I returned to sit next to her with four decent sized river trout on my string. I gutted and cleaned them next to the water and tossed the unwanted parts into the moving water. There was no sense in having them near the camp to attract unwanted attention from animals, or anything else for that matter.

I seasoned the fish with a few herbs I picked from the
ground and with the salt & pepper packets from an MRE. I stuck the fish on two large sticks and suspended them over the fire with rocks. It didn't take long before the smell of the roasting trout was filling the air.

"You've done this before," observed Spec-4.

"Once or twice," I admitted. "But never with such crappy fishing gear."

"I don't care if you caught them with your bare hands," she said, smiling. "They smell delicious."

By the time they were finished cooking, we had set up what camp we could. We would be using our rucksacks as pillows and using my poncho as an improvised tent. It wasn't the most ideal of situations, but it could have been worse. I've slept in much worse conditions going deer hunting. I had a sleeping bag then, but it was freezing cold there. At least here it was warm out and there didn't seem to be any sign of rain.

The night passed quietly. We were in the proverbial "middle of nowhere" so I wasn't expecting a lot of traffic around us, living or otherwise. A couple of times, I heard something pass along the shore, but it could have just as ea
sily been a deer than a person or a zombie. We put the fire out after cooking the fish, so we didn't have to worry about them seeing us. The steady roar of the river covered up all but the loudest noises, so we were alright as long as we didn't start yelling or singing.

With water on all sides of us, I wasn't expecting company. The dead wouldn't cross the water and only a fool would try to swim a river that was moving as fast as this one was. Trying to cross a churning river in th
e dark and on foot, well, there were far easier ways to commit suicide. Nothing readily sprang to mind, though.

12 May

I awoke to darkness. It was still before sunup, but something brought me out of a sound sleep. Something was wrong and my subconscious wanted me to know it. I lay there in the darkness, the only sounds I could hear was the river and Spec-4's soft breathing. I lay there unmoving and quiet, for what felt like an eternity, before I heard the sound that was softly emanating from the trees on the far side of the river.

At first, I could barely make it out. Then, as it seemed to get closer, it became more clearly defined. There was definitely something moving through the underbrush, not more than twenty yards awa
y from us. I strained to see whatever it was, but was having only limited success. The darkness was very deep without either moonlight or bright stars. The slightly over-cast heavens didn't exactly lend itself to night vision.

As my eyes slowly adjusted, I could make out shapes moving through the trees. From
the way they moved, they could only be
Stalkers.
I closed my eyes and let my nose take over. On the breeze was the faint smell of decay. They definitely weren't living beings moving along in the darkness. That could only mean that they were returning to their lair before the sun could rise. They had to have a cave or something similar, in the vicinity. It also meant that there were more of the damned things than we knew about.

Just as I was about t
o breathe a sigh of relief, the last one in line stopped and began scenting the air. I held my breath and waited for it to move off. Then my worst fears came true. It turned and looked directly at us. The hair on the nape of my neck stood straight up and it felt like someone had just poured ice water down the back of my shirt.

The creature knelt in the bushes and let out a feral growl that seemed to shatter the stillness of the night. I could hear the answering snarls of the other
Stalkers
as they turned and headed back towards the one that had seen us. I had counted over a dozen of the accursed things as they passed us. Now they were quickly returning to see what had alerted their comrade.

As they gathered across from our camp, they began to approach the edge of the water. They were looking for a way across the river to reach us. It was terrifying to see how intelligent they were.
The first one simply walked out into the water. Before it made it more than ten feet, the current swept it away and off into the darkness. I could hear it snarling as it resurfaced and tried to fight the current.

The next one stepped back a few feet and launched itself at our gravel bar. It sailed through the air, only to fall a few feet short and splash into the raging water. It too was swept away. The heavy crash of the water woke Spec-4 from her slumber
. To her credit, she only opened her eyes and reached for her M-4.

"
Stalkers
," I mouthed, trying to make as little sound as possible.

Her eyes grew wide and she readied her weapon. I nodded at her as I brought my own weapon to my shoulder. We already had suppressors fitted to our weapons, so noise wasn't going to be a major concern. Crawling out of our makeshift tent, I rose to my feet. There was no sense in hiding now. They knew we were there and were actively trying to reach us.

The third one learned from the mistakes of the other two. It stepped back even further and got a running start at it. I watched as it sailed through the air and landed with a splash in less than two feet of water. It stood up and started advancing directly towards me.

I snap fired and shot it in the forehead as it almost reached dry ground. It fell over backwards into the water
, was snagged by the current and swept away. Behind me, Spec-4 got to her feet and stood next to me.

"Screw waiting for them to come to our side," she said, and started taking aim.

Her first two shots dropped their targets. Then they were all flying though the air at nearly the same time. Nine of them landed in shallow water and started to advance on us. Our only retreat was the canoe. If we jumped into it, we'd have to abandon what limited amount of gear we had with us. Personally, I wasn't planning on leaving anything behind. Bringing a canoe back against this current would be nearly impossible.

We fired at the advancing
Stalkers
as we backed slowly towards the canoe. We didn't want to abandon our gear, but we might not have much choice. We dropped four more before they made it to shore. That left five of them as they reached the gravel bar. They were now less than twenty feet away from us. Close enough that we could clearly see their pale-white faces and smell the rotten stench of decay on them.

They moved quickly and managed to avoid most of our shots. Spec-4 kept firing as I drew my hammer and the heavy bladed cavalry saber. There were only three as they got within melee range. Bellowing a battle cry that would stir the blood and get the atten
tion of the Gods themselves, I launched myself forward at the remaining three.

With a call to Odin, I caught the leap of the nearest one with a heavy blow from the hammer. The heavy left-handed blow smashed the creature in the face in mid-leap. It fell to the ground, twitching and flopping in its final throes. Spec-4 shot it in the face, just to make sure it sta
yed down. I only heard the shot. I was already moving to intercept the next
Stalker
as it raced towards us at frightening speed.

The heavy blade of the saber sank into the unprotected flesh of the next creature's abdomen. I slashed it from shoulder to navel in one arcing slice as it raced towards me. It stumbled, but didn't fall. The momentum carried it on towards me. I spun to my left and smashed it in the back of the skull with the hammer as it passed me.

Reversing the blade, I struck under my right armpit and felt it sink nearly halfway to the hilt in the belly of the final
Stalker.
I twisted the blade as I spun around the handle, bringing the hammer in with tremendous force. I screamed out another battle cry as I brought the hammer in on its deadly trajectory.

To my surprise, the creature ducked my blow and yanked the hilt of the sword from my hand, in the process. The crushing blow passed harmlessly over the beast's head and I lost my grip on the hammer. It flew off into the night and splashed somewhere in the raging river, lost
for all intents and purposes. There was no way I could recover it without the river being drained or by using scuba equipment. Both possibilities were highly unlikely.

As the creature reached for me, I struck with the only weapon left to me. I drove my gloved fist into its face with all the force I could muster. I felt teeth and bone give way beneath the force of the blow. I knew that I had broken the jaw and knocked several teeth out of its mouth.

Pressing my advantage, I kicked out with my right foot and drove the thing back towards the water's edge. I grabbed it by the throat with my left hand and grabbled the handle of the sword with my right. Lifting the creature off of its feet, I took two more steps taking us right up to the edge of the water. With a wet tearing sound, I yanked the sword free from its abdomen.