Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (29 page)

"I wasn't going to leave Mike behind," she explained. "Besides, from what I could tell from the radio, there really wasn't anyplace safe to go to."

"Fair enough," I said, nodding.

Snake took the keys and headed off towards the parking lot. I wanted to try to ease the tension a bit, so I decided to change the subject and my tone.

"This hasn't been easy for any of us," I said. "I'm sorry. My name is Wylie Grant. You can just call me Wylie. The big guy getting in the suburban is Janos. Just call him Snake."

"I'm Mike Leary," said the man, "and this is Heather Monroe."

"Nice to meet you, both," I said, smiling. "How did you get stuck inside the dam?"

"I'm an electrical engineer," said Mike. "Heather is a mechanical engineer. We both work…uh…worked here."

"Engineers?" I said, surprised. "We could use both of you. We're trying to build a safe zone for our group. You'll both make excellent additions, if you want to stay."

"It's not like we have a lot of options," replied Heather, sarcastically.

"Let's get out of here," I said. "We can decide what to do, later. If you want to stay, you're welcome to."

Snake pulled up in the big suburban and stopped a few feet away. He kept the headlights off, but the engine idled like a beast.

"Do you need to grab anything before we leave?" I asked.

"Just our packs," said Mike. "We were packed and ready, just in case."

"I'll grab them," said Heather, and ducked back inside the dam.

Seconds later, she emerged carrying two backpacks. They were both sporting brands, not military grade. One was blue and the other was a bright orange. I took them from her and tossed them into the back of the suburban. Next, I helped Mike into the backseat. Then I folded the wheelchair and put it in the back, as well. Heather climbed into the back with Mike, so I took shotgun.

"Let's roll," said Snake, putting the transmission back into gear.

Easing off the clutch, we took off down the parking lot towards the road. It curved around the bluff and came back to the main road just above where we beached the boat. From the upper end, we could drive down almost to where the boat was at if we were careful. I really hated to leave the suburban behind, but it couldn't go where we needed to go.

The suburban had good clearance and the windows were high enough that the dead shouldn't be able to reach them. The
Stalkers
could climb, but I was really hoping that we wouldn't run into any of them. We drove hard, screeching the tires on almost every curve. Twice, we ran over
Shamblers
that got in our way. Between the high clearance and the brush guard, it didn't seem to even slow the thing down.

When we skidded out onto the road, there were cars still blocking part of it. We had enough room to get around them, but it was close. By the time the parking area that led to the shoreline came into view, I could see a large number of the dead on the dam. Many of them started coming our way when they saw our headlights. We weren't going to have much time to pull this off.

Quickly, I rolled my window down and brought the Beowulf up to my shoulder. We were bouncing around too much for me to get a clear shot. We were still too far away for me to pick individual targets, anyway. It was best to conserve my ammo. Once it was gone, I wasn't sure where we'd get more to fit the Beowulf. However, I was
definitely
going to be looking for more.

We slid to a stop, less than
thirty yards from the boat. The timing was going to be tight. We were going to be cutting it close to the arrival of the dead. It was better to not hesitate. Snake, Heather and I climbed out and started grabbing gear. Heather took the two packs while Snake grabbed the wheelchair and a fuel can that was in the back. I grabbed Mike and drew him across my shoulders in a fireman's carry.

"Sorry, Mike," I said. "We've got to move."

"I never wanted to have someone carry me," he said, his face darkening. "Especially now, I feel like more of a liability than an asset."

"Mike, there comes a time in every man's life when someone will have to carry him," I said, gently. "It is my honor to carry you. Before this is over, you will be worth five of me. I'm a warrior. It's the thinkers that will rebuild this world. People like you."

"Thank you," he said, smiling. "I'm more than willing to help."

"
You are most welcome," I replied. "Do you know how to shoot?"

"I should hope so," he said, chuckling. "I was a combat engineer in the Army. That's how I paid for college. It's also how I ended up in the chair. My Humvee hit an I.E.D., just outside of
Kandahar."

Without another word, I handed him one of the PMR-30's. He checked the load and nodded.

"Got it," he said.

"It's hot," I replied. "Loaded with hollow points. Should be thirty rounds in it."

"That should do the trick," he replied.

Heather and Snake beat me to the boat. Snake casually tossed his load in and grabbed the front end. With a heave, he started shoving the boat back out into the water. I could see some of the zombies were trying to come down the hill to get to us. They weren't making it too well. They just fell down the hill and bounced all the way down.
As I sat Mike in the boat, he raised the pistol and took four rapid shots.

I turned around to see two of the dead stumble and fall, less than t
en yards away from us. That was too close for comfort. More of them were reaching the bottom of the hill and starting to get back to their feet. Some of them were only
Crawlers
now, but they were still moving. It was time to leave.

"Everyone get in the boat!" I called, turning around and bringing the Beowulf to my shoulder.

Snake jumped behind the controls and started trying starting the motor. We had to have the motor because we were too close to the spillways to risk drifting out into the deeper water. We'd be drawn by the current and over the spillways. To me, that didn't sound like much fun. I stood my ground on the shore, knowing full-well I had to buy him the time to get that motor started.

The dead were closing in on us, less than twenty yards away. There were more of them by the minute. Behind me, I heard the muted cough of the suppressed M-4 as it came to life. One by one, the dead began to fall. I glanced back, expecting to see Mike taking careful shots at the dead. It wasn't Mike at all. It was Heather.

I turned back and started carefully lining up my shots. The sheer power of the Beowulf was enough to get more than one target with the amount of penetration the rounds would have. My first round took out three. The second got two. I was lining up my next shot, when other weapons joined in the fray. I turned my head to see that Spec-4 and Elliott had brought their boats in close. They were engaging targets of their own.

I turned back around and took three shots in rapid succession. The damage the Beowulf did to a body was impressive. Limbs, heads and torsos simply came apart from the massive trauma. I was about to think that we were home free when I heard Snake's voice.

"Oh fuck!" he bellowed. "Wylie! Behind us!

Spinning quickly, I saw over
a dozen
Stalkers
emerging from the water. I rapidly began engaging them, leaving the dead on the shore to the others, trusting them to keep my back safe. I could no longer afford to try for multiple hits. I just aimed and fired. The
Stalkers
were too big of a threat to waste time. The large bore Beowulf was knocking ones that I didn't put down back out into the water. Even minor hits were devastating.

My bolt locked back and I reached into my cargo pocket for another one when the boat's engine roared to life. I swapped magazines and tucked the empty into my other cargo pocket. I took four more shots and cleared Snake a path back out into the deeper water.

"Get in!" bellowed Snake. "We are getting the fuck outta here!"

I stepped out onto the fore deck of the boat and Snake started backing away from the shore. I stayed on my feet and kept engaging targets, hitting the closest ones to keep them at bay.

"I'm out," yelled Mike, holding the PMR-30 up.

"Me too," added Heather.

Snake tossed her an extra magazine while I handed Mike one for the pistol. We all swept the area around us as Snake swung the front of the boat around and headed for the center of the lake.

"Clear!" snapped Mike.

"Clear," added Heather.

"Fuck yeah!" said Snake.

"Clear," I breathed, sighing.

Both pontoon boats swung around and came along with us as we headed back up the lake.

"Wilder to Grant," hissed my radio.

"Grant here," I replied, grabbing the mic.

"Where to, now?" asked Spec-4.

"We head back towards the Niangua," I said. "We've got to get off of the lake before the dam goes."

"Copy that," she replied. "I'll add a dam to your tally."

"Wasn't my fault," I replied.

"It never is," she replied, chuckling. "It never is."

I just shook my head in mock sadness.

"829, clear," I said, smiling.

"Out," she replied.

We rode in silence for nearly an hour before anyone spoke.

"Where are we going?" asked Heather.

"We've got survivors with us," I said. "We're returning to our base, about twenty miles up the Niangua River."

"Can we take these boats that far up the river?" asked Mike.

"Ordinarily, I'd say no," I replied. "But the rivers are flooded from all the rain we've had lately. I think we should be able to get to where we're going without too much trouble."

"How many survivors?" asked Heather.

"Here or back at camp?" I answered.

"Here, I guess," she said, glancing around.

"Over a dozen," I said, gesturing at the other boats. "Mostly women and children. By the way, where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"Mike isn't the only one who paid for college by joining the military," she said, smiling. "I did eight years in the
Air Force. I was in the Security Forces. Dog handler. One tour in Afghanistan and one in Germany."

"Nice," I replied. "You both are turning out to be a great find for us. You've got a lot of skills we could use."

"Well, we're not exactly overwhelmed with other offers, sir," said Mike. "I, for one, would love to stay. If you'll have us."

"Yeah," said Heather, reluctantly. "I'm in, too."

"Welcome to our band of misfits and miscreants," I said. "We're largely made up of law enforcement and military survivors. There are quite a few civilians, too."

"Sounds like our kind of group," said Mike.

I broke out a couple of MREs and handed them around. Snake declined, but Mike and Heather must have been pretty hungry. They didn't even flinch and tore into them with the gusto that only soldiers could muster for an MRE. I let them eat in peace. We'd have plenty of time to talk, later.

14 May

The sun was starting to come up when the Niangua came into view. The lake seemed to be holding its water level, so I could only assume that the dam was still holding. Without the dam, the lake would empty quickly. I wasn't sure how long it would take to drain, but it wouldn't be good news for anyone alive downstream. The Osage River eventually emptied into the Missouri River. That amount of water was going to cause a lot of damage on its way to the Mississippi. Survivors in towns from Osage Beach to St. Louis would feel that impact.

The river was still well above it's normal banks, so we didn't slow as we proceeded. Our smaller boat took the lead and we had to watch for submerged obstacles. Our fishing boat didn't need as much water as the much larger pontoon boats.
We already knew the trouble spots from our trip downstream. The trouble was going to be keeping everyone safe until then.

The sun was starting to sink low in the sky when we passed under the bridge at the edge of
Bennett Springs. I reached for my radio and keyed the mic, hoping that Southard was monitoring it.

"829 to 917," I said, keeping my fingers crossed.

I waited a few seconds before trying again.

"917, do you copy?" I said. "Over."

"I hear you," said Southard, excitement in his voice. "We thought you guys were gone, for sure."

"We're approaching the park, now," I said. "We need an escort. We're bringing in survivors."

"How many?" asked Southard.

"Over a dozen," I said. "We'll explain when we get there."

"Looking forward to it," he replied. "See you at the river."

"Copy," I said, smiling.

"Oh, and Wylie," said Southard.

"Yeah, Chuck?" I answered.

"Good to have you back," he said. "917, out."

"Good to be back," I agreed. "829, out."

Five minutes later, we pulled into the boat launch area near the cabins. Right next to where Elliott had gone into the water, which felt like weeks ago. As we began climbing out, four Humvees and two Hemmitts came rolling up, lights blazing in the deepening shadows. I just looked at Elliott and Spec-4 in surprise. Neither of them had any explanation, either.