Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (35 page)

My suspicions were confirmed when I saw them dragging off the ones that we had shot. Some of them even fed on the fallen dead. I guess that the
Stalkers
weren't picky about what they ate. That explained why we didn't see many of the other types of undead in the area. They must prey on anything moving, even other dead.

I considered getting out of the vehicle, but thought better of it. I decided to wait until the sun was completely up. I was glad I did, too. Just as the sun was starting to come above the horizon, I heard a hissing sna
rl and two of them leapt off the roof of the Humvee and ran for the trees. They had been waiting on top for us to think it was safe. Clever bastards.

We waited until Southard, Snake, Gunny and Elliott came out with their weapons ready to climb out of the vehicle. No sense in taking the chance. I'd been thinking all night about why we came out here in the first place. We'd risked our lives to save a dog. I only came out because I felt like I needed to, for whatever reason. We had saved the dog, but we
had also learned a lot about the
Stalkers
.

We learned how they hunted. We learned how they carried off their dead. We even learned that they ate the dead as well as the living. Although, the
most important thing we learned was where they went when the sun came up. If we could track them back to their lair, we could end this threat once and for all. I figured that there were more of them somewhere else, but we only had to worry about the ones that were here. At least, for now.

Once we were all back inside, we ate breakfast and got ourselves cleaned up. While I was resupplying my ammo from the stores, I ran into Johnny Bowman. He'd pretty much taken over the machine shop area and set up a complete gunsmithing and reloading station. He grinned like a schoolboy with his first crush when he saw me. I was more than a little worried by that.

"Wylie," he said, standing up and smiling . "Just the guy I was wanting to see."

"Uh, oh," I said, shaking his hand.

"I took some of your expended brass and started making some castings," he said, pointing to the gear on his bench. "I've started casting bullets and making shell casings for your old Colt and for the Beowulf."

That was good news to me. I was worried that we'd run out of that very unique ammo and I'd have to stop using them. I'd grown rather fond of both of them and was very reluctant to go back to a smaller weapon.

"That's great!" I said, grinning. "How soon can you start making it."

"I already have," he replied, pointing at a duffel bag. "I loaded six magazines for the rifle and about two hundred rounds for the pistol. Why don't you give them a try and see how they work."

"I'll do that," I replied, snagging the offered bag of ammo.

"I may have loaded them a little hot," he said. "I had to take a guess at the powder loads."

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied, shouldering the bag. "Hopefully they aren't too hot."

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sure I'm pretty close. I doubt they are hot enough to damage the guns."

"Thanks," I said, and headed out the door.

"You're welcome," he replied. "Keep your eyes peeled for another one of those Beowulf's. I want one, for myself."

"Will do," I said, and headed down the hall.

I was both excited and reluctant to try out Bowman's new ammo. It could work just fine or it could damage my guns. I doubted that he'd overloaded it,
but it paid to be cautious. Especially with ammunition and zombies. Underestimating either one could get you maimed or killed. In the case of the zombies, it could do worse than killing you. The last thing I wanted was to turn into one of those things.

"Wylie," said Corporal Winston, as I passed the doorway to the radio room. "Got a sec?"

"Sure," I said, leaning back into the room. "What's up?"

"We've lost contact with the group held up at the Mega-Mart," he said, taking off his headset.

"How long has it been since we've heard from them?" I asked, concerned.

"A few days," he said. "We don't always talk every day, but we haven't gone more than two days without taking before."

"Maybe they just ran out of batteries," I said, not really believing it myself.

"Maybe," Winston reluctantly agreed. "I just have the feeling that something has happened."

"I guess we could go take a look," I said, thinking out loud.

"That might be a good idea," he said. "If they're alright, maybe we can work out some kind of a deal for some of the gear they have in that store."

"I'd like to get some of the hunting and fishing gear," I said. "And some of the gardening supplies."

"
Do you think the dead got to them?" asked Winston.

"I hope not," I replied, grimacing. "I wouldn't w
ish that on anyone. Well, anyone that isn't trying to kill us."

"I'll keep trying to raise them on the radio," he said, turning back to his equipment.

"Let me know if you hear from them," I said, turning towards the door. "I'm going to round up a team to get a closer look."

"Got it," said Winston, slipping his earphones back on.

I headed down the hallway and found a group of people assembled in the dining area. Several of them had towels on the table in front of them and were in the process of cleaning weapons. I sat across from Spec-4 and lay my Beowulf on the table. She glanced up from the cleaning of her upper receiver on her M-4 and smiled at me.

"Come to lend a hand?" she asked.

"I thought I'd join you and maybe clean my own weapons," I said, smiling.

Karen came over to me from the kitchen area and handed me a steaming cup of coffee. I smiled at her and winked, taking a sip of the bitter black liquid. It was strong, but it was good. She returned the wink and headed back into the kitchen. I could tell from the smell that they were already busy preparing the evening meal for the group.

I sighed contentedly and set the cup down, then popped the pins on the receiver of my Beowulf and took it apart. In seconds, I was removing the bolt and laying the pieces out to clean them individually. There was carbon build-up on the entire bolt carrier group, so I sprayed them with break free and let them sit. Taking a small brush, I began scrubbing out the firing chamber on the upper receiver.

"Something on your mind?" asked Spec-4, not looking up from her own cleaning.

"Winston says he's lost contact with the group of survivors in Lebanon," I said, checking my progress and wiping it down with a clean rag.

"You want
to go take a look," she said.

I noticed that it wasn't a question.

"I was thinking about it, yeah," I said, assembling my cleaning rod.

"I'm in," she said. "You should know that, by now."

"Who else should we take?" I asked, inserting a cleaning patch into the loop on the end of the cleaning rod.

"We should take that new guy," she said. "Snake."

"Why him?"

"Because no one else likes him," she said. "Besides that, he's a good fighter. Maybe not the best shot, but a tough fighter."

"OK," I said, threading the cleaning patch through my barrel. "Who else?"

"Depends," she said. "Are we just taking a look or are we planning on bringing back survivors with us?"

"We'd need a bigger vehicle than a Humvee," I said. "There are supposed to be more than twenty of them."

"
So, this is a rescue mission," she said, reassembling her bolt and sliding it into the upper receiver.

"I say we take a Humvee," I said. "If we need to extract them, we'll improvise. We can either call
for the others to bring a Hemmitt, or we can see what we can beg, borrow or steal."

"Then we only need one more," she said, putting her weapon back together and working the bolt.

"Grab Southard," I said, deciding. "The four of us should be able to handle most problems."

"I'll let him know," she said, smiling.

Reaching across the table, she began to scrub the pieces of my bolt carrier group, taking off the grime and powder residue. When I was satisfied that my barrel was clean, I started cleaning the lower receiver. By the time I was finished, Spec-4 was reassembling my bolt carrier group and putting it into the upper receiver.

Wiping it all down with an oily rag, I combined the parts and worked the bolt. It cycled with a smooth motion and I locked the bolt back. Satisfied, I slipped in a full magazine and released the bolt. It shot home with a metallic
clack
and was ready. I made certain the weapon was on safe and dropped the magazine. I quickly inserted a round to replace the one in the chamber and slapped it back into the weapon. Then it was time to clean the old Colt.

Spec-4 headed out to grab her gear from her quarters. By the time she returned, I had cleaned the old Colt and my Keltec KSG shotgun.
Southard returned with her, his gear already packed and ready. The entire room smelled of gun oil and food. From the smell, I guessed that they were making beans and rice. Rice is a wonderful food for survivors to put back. It has a shelf-life of almost ten years. I had the distinct feeling that we'd be eating a lot of it, in the months to come.

Spec-4 had already replaced her armor and was now wearing a set of our jail issue black BDU's. Her ACU's were shredded. Although the bunker had boxes of uniforms and boots, she had decided to go with the same uniform I wore. Either there was a message there, or I was just reading too much into it. The Gods knew that I've done it before.

Since it was still early in the day, I figured now was as good of a time as any to take a recon run into Lebanon. Karen saw me putting on my armor and gave me the look that told me she already knew what I was planning. She didn't look happy about it, but she didn't argue the point, either. I think she was getting used to me going out into the fray.

I excused myself from the group and went over to speak with her. I was right. She wasn't happy about it. She understood why and hoped that the other group was alright, but she wasn't going to be happy I was going out there. I didn't really expect her to be. By the time I had returned to the others, they had all of their gear packed and ready to go.

We loaded our gear and extra ammo into a Humvee and checked the SAW on the turret. Once we were loaded and had the gas tanks topped off, we loaded a couple of cases of bottled water and enough MREs to keep us fed for several days. We even threw in our basic camping gear. No sense getting caught unprepared.

I took a moment to kiss Karen and hug the boys before we loaded up. Gunny, Webber, Winston and Sanders all escorted us out of the facility and to the gate. With them covering us, the gate crew opened the gate and we rolled through. I saw the gate roll shut as we drove away. Gunny and First Sergeant Gregory had already made plans to attempt locating the
Stalker's
lair while we were gone. With any luck, they'd just blast the damned thing shut and we'd be done with them.

We drove up the hill and out of the park, heading for the highway that ran into
Lebanon. Shockingly, the road was much clearer than I expect it to be. There were quite a few houses out this far from town, but they must have fled the area when the warnings were issued. Then again, it's much easier to evacuate a smaller town. Lebanon had a population of about ten to twelve thousand. Springfield was more than ten times that size. That many cars on the road at the same time will cause traffic jams.

"Keep your eyes peeled on the way into town," I said as we left the park.

"OK," said Spec-4. "What are we looking for?"

"That State Trooper with the dog had to have come from somewhere close by," I explained. "He was on foot, so he couldn't have gone far before the
Stalkers
got to him."

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" asked Snake.

"Any sign of life," I said. "Buildings that look fortified, signs that say help or something like that. Any place that doesn't look abandoned."

"We'll keep our eyes peeled," said Southard. "How do we know he came this way?
              "Well, we don't," I admitted. "But, if he'd been coming from the other direction, he would have entered the park from the other end. By the same logic, if he'd come from the only other highway that enters the park, we should have seen their place on our way in. There are only three roads into the park."

"Fair enough," said Snake. "He might not have come from this way, but it's the most likely route."

"My best guess," I said, shrugging. "It's too bad he didn't get to us during the daylight. We might have saved them both."

The road was clear enough that I could drive as fast as I felt comfortable, bu
t I still kept it to below 40 mph so I wouldn't miss anything. I also didn't want to round a curve or crest a hill at 60 mph and find something big blocking the road. Even at forty, Lebanon was a short drive from the park. We didn't need to get there that fast. Odds were that whatever had happened to the others had already happened. We just hoped that it was something minor.