Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (26 page)

Pressing his advantage, he rolled on top of me and punched me twice in the face. My vision was beginning to narrow and lose focus. I threw a punch at his face, but it had lost most of its force. I was losing and getting close to blacking out. As my head lolled to the side, my vision swam in and out of focus. Through the haze, I began to focus on something completely out of place.

There was a figure emerging from the water. It was a goddamned
Stalker.
I knew that the water didn't kill them, but I didn't expect to see them out here in the middle of the lake. They were climbing the anchoring lines that kept the island from drifting. I turned my head and saw that there were more of them climbing up other ropes onto the island. Then the screaming began.

             
As the first
Stalker
that emerged close to us started to snarl, the King looked up. He had heard the screaming, too. We also heard gunfire coming from another part of the island. They were everywhere.

"How the hell did they get out here!" he bellowed as he stood up.

The
Stalker
was coming closer to us and snarling. It crouched as it walked and I could see that the fingers were more claw-like than I had noticed, before. The King was frantically searching for a weapon as the creature dove on him and took him to the deck. He grabbed it by the head to keep it from biting him, but the thing was phenomenally strong. He didn't have long before it would take him.

I climbed unsteadily to my feet and thought about finding a weapon to help him. Before I moved, I remembered that I had a pistol in my waistband. I only hoped that I hadn't lost it in the fight. I had shot
four times, so I knew that I only had eleven rounds left. Too bad I didn't have any extra magazines in my pocket.

I slipped my hand to the small of my back and found the Glock where I had left it. I drew it and blew the back of the skull out of the
Stalker
that had the King pinned to the ground. Then I turned and shot two more that were emerging from the water. The King stood and tossed the lifeless thing back into the water and looked around for another target. When one didn't immediately appear, he turned to me and we locked eyes.

"Thanks," he said. "You could have let that thing kill me."

"No, I couldn't," I replied, shaking my head.

"Hmmph," he snorted. "We've got to help the others."

“Looks like we finally agree on
something
,” I muttered.

I turned and headed for the connecting walkway that led back to the other boats. The big man was right on my heels. I could already see that Spec-4 and Elliott were engaging targets all around them. For every one they shot, two more emerged from the water. I didn't know where they were all coming from, but we didn't stand a chance if we stood and fought here. We had to abandon the island.

"We've got to get everyone onto one of the boats and get the fuck out of here," I yelled at the King.

"We can't hold this," he replied, nodding. "Can you buy me
some time to get my people out?"

"I'm down to less than ten rounds,"
I replied. "I need my weapons."

There was too much action going on
, cutting us off from Spec-4 and Elliott. They had moved off to another boat to help repel the dead. My gear was with them. Just as one of the beasts was about to drag down one of the women that had been sitting with the King, I saw the guy I dubbed the Shotgun-Shithead emerge from the boathouse. He leveled his shotgun and blew the beast back into the water, saving the woman in the process.

My esteem for Shithead just went up several notches. I nodded at him and gave him a quick wave. He smiled and nodded at me, even though his mouth and nose were still swollen from where I had punched him. He opened his mouth to say something when one of the
Stalkers
grabbed him from the top of the boathouse. I saw its claw-like fingers dig into his face and eyes, blood began pouring from the vicious wounds.

Then, just like that, it dragged him screaming up and over the top of the boat. I lost sight of him as his legs were kicking in the air and disappear
ing out of sight. I could hear the thud of something heavy hitting the deck on the far side of the boat. Then the real screaming began. It was more horrifying than any zombie attack I had ever seen before.

I ran around the boathouse, only to find that two of the
Stalkers
were tearing into his flesh. They had torn most of his face away and were tearing into the soft skin of his abdomen. It struck me that they didn't seem to be in any hurry to kill him. He just kept screaming in agony as they feasted on his soft tissues.

I raised the pistol and shot them all, ending his misery. There was nothing we could have done for him, anyway. He was finished. I turned and shot one more that was climbing onto th
e boat as I headed back to the King. I found him beating a zombie with a leg from the table. I could hear the wood splintering with the force of each impact. Unlike me, the zombie seemed to be taking the blows without any effect. I could see wounds appearing on its face, but otherwise it seemed unfazed.

"Duck!" I yelled.

The King did so without hesitation, and I shot the zombie in the face. It flipped over the rail and off into the water. My ammo supply was dwindling rapidly. By my count, I had four or five rounds left before I was empty. When that happened, we were screwed. Nothing short of a headshot seemed to even slow them down.

"How good are you with a rifle?" the King demanded.

"Better than I am with a pistol," I replied. "Why?"

"I'm not a great shot," he admitted. "But I do have a weapon that might help you even the odds."

"Show me," I said, nodding.

I quickly followed him back into the boat. He led me down the hallway to the master suite at the end. It was as opulent as the rest of the boat. Reaching into the closet, he pulled out a familiar looking black canvas rifle bag. It looked like a range bag that many in Law Enforcement used to t
ake their weapon to the range. My eyes widened as they fell on the weapon that emerged as he unzipped the bag.

It was sleek and beautiful. It had been custom painted in a camouflage pattern and had all the bells and whistles. Red dot sighting, tactical light, green laser sight mounted under the barrel, extended suppressor
, and a tactical fore grip under the barrel. This baby had it all. The barrel looked bigger than I thought it should be, though.

"I stole this thing from an enforcer for the Angels," he said. "
He owed me money. I've had it a long time. I never shoot it, because the ammo is too fucking expensive. I only have a couple hundred rounds for it. You'll have to make them count."

"What is it?" I asked, reaching out for the beautiful weapon like a kid reaching for candy.

"It's called a Beowulf," he said, smiling.

"Holy shit," I whispered. "That's a .50 caliber. I've read about those."

"Yeah," he said. "Standard AR frame with a .50 caliber upper receiver. They take standard AR magazines, but they only hold ten rounds in a regular 30 round mag."

"I'll have to make them count," I said, taking the weapon and checking the chamber.

It had a loaded magazine, but nothing in the chamber. I rapidly chambered a round and took the safety off. There were four other loaded magazines, so I stuck them in my cargo pocket. The rest of the ammo was in the range bag. I zipped it back up and slipped it over my shoulder.

"If you can get us
the fuck out of here," he said, "she's all yours, man."

"Thanks," I said, grinning, "
your highness
."

"The name is Jan
os Viridian," he said. "My friends call me Snake."

"Is there a story there?" I asked, headed for the door.

"It's because of my tat," he replied, following me. "I have a full back-piece of Thor fighting the Midgard Serpent. It wraps all the way around my waist and runs down my leg."

"Damn," I muttered, heading down the hallway.

"Hurt like a motherfucker," he said.

"Alright, Snake," I said. "It's good to finally meet you."

"Let's kick some zombie ass, little brother," he said, smiling.

I noticed that he was carrying my Halligan bar. Firefighters refer to it as a "Hooligan" bar because they like to run in and smash things with it, like a little hooligan. He looked like a big hooligan holding the bar in his thick
, knobby hands. He was definitely ready to fight.

I stepped out onto the deck and brought the Beowulf to my shoulder. I could hear the
ping, ping, ping
of more than one M-4. I could also hear the occasional
boom
of a shotgun and the sharper
crack
of a deer rifle. At least someone was fighting back. At least someone was left
to
fight back. We didn't have long to get into this fight before there wouldn't be, anymore.

The first
Stalker
that I saw was emerging from the water near where Spec-4 and Elliott were set up, defending a small group of survivors. I lined up my shot and gently squeezed the trigger. I had never fired a Beowulf before, so I wasn't really expecting the level of
boom
that it produced. I was well accustomed to the light report of the M-4 and even the loud shot from my shotgun. This thing roared like its namesake.

The massive
BOOM
echoed in every direction and rolled out across the lake like thunder. The head of the
Stalker
that I shot simply disappeared in a shower of gore. The headless body fell twitching back into the water. The kick was much harder than any AR I'd ever fired, too. It shook my shoulder and I almost staggered back. That was going to leave a bruise.

Adjusting for the noise and recoil, I advanced tactically towards the walkway. I engaged the tactical light and lit up the area. Two more rapid shots and I sent two more
Stalkers
flying back into the water. The second one's arm flew almost twenty feet into the air before splashing into the water and sinking.

Behind me
I heard a grunt, followed by the smack of steel on flesh. I spun around to see Snake knocking a zombie over the rail and into the water beyond. He spun to his left and crushed the skull of a second one that was just climbing aboard the boat. With a satisfied snort, he turned back to me. There was a large grin on his face as he nodded at me.

"I see why you like this thing," he said. "I'm definitely gonna have to get me
one of these."

With a nod, I slipped over the rail and onto the walkway. Snake followed on my heels and we headed for the
group of survivors huddled behind the console of a small boat. Spec-4 and Elliott were covering them and looked happy to see us as we walked up.

"Nice of you two to join us," said Spec-4, smiling.

"Sorry," I said. "We were a little busy kicking each other's asses. We're here, now."

"What do we do
?" asked Spec-4. "I didn't think those things could swim."

"Me either," I said. "I think they climbed up the anchor lines."

I turned and fired off another blast from the Beowulf, nearly cutting a zombie in half and sending it sprawling off the boat.

"Get everyone onto one of the pontoon boats," I snapped. "We'll round up everyone we can find and meet you there. We have to
get off of this island. They’ll just keep coming."

"You heard the man," shouted Snake to the confused people. "Listen to him. We're going to be leaving with them, if they'll have us."

"Gladly," I replied. "Let's get everyone we can save and get the fuck out of here."

Spec-4 and Elliott started herding the others towards a large pontoon boat while we covered them. The people were motivated to move quickly, so they didn’t waste much time. Once they were all aboard, Spec-4 turned to me and waved.

“We’re on!”she called out.

“Elliott,” I yelled. “Fire up the engine and take it away from the island. Stay close so you can come back in and pick us up. We’ll be ready to move quickly.”

“No problem, dad,” he replied, moving towards the controls.

Seconds later, Spec-4 cast off the mooring lines
. Elliott throttled up and backed away from us. If the boat wasn’t attached to the island, the
Stalkers
shouldn’t be able to get aboard. I was mostly sure that they had climbed the anchor lines. If they really could swim, then we were in big trouble.

I grabbed a range bag from one of the benches and pulled out ammo for the Glock. I dropped the magazine and rapidly reloaded it. Once it was done, I chambered a round and replaced it in the magazine.
With it fully loaded, I handed it to Snake. Then I took a moment to reload my own magazine in the Beowulf from the loose rounds in my bag. Once we were loaded and ready, we headed off to look for more survivors.

We found four
Stalkers
trying to force their way into a cabin cruiser. Between the two of us, we made short work of them. Once we cleared it, we heard the barricade behind the door begin to shift. Inside were four women, the two children and Dolt. Dolt was the only one who was armed. He looked very relieved to see us.