Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (44 page)

I ran over to the door and drove the pry bar end of
the hammer into the crack next to the knob. Once it had a good bite into the doorframe, I leaned into it with all of my weight. The metal of the door groaned, but held its ground. I could feel that it was weakening, but not nearly fast enough. I needed more leverage or more strength.

Randall saw what I was doing and added his weight to the effort. With a groan of protest, the lock gave way and the door popped open. I slung the hammer back over my shoulder and drew the silenced pistol. There was no telling what was inside, waiting for us to blunder in. I
certainly wasn't going to walk into the darkness without being ready to strike back.

I brought my weapon up in ready position and clicked on my flashlight. The bright blue light illuminated the interior of a storage area. Behind us, I could hear the creaking and cracking of wood as the dead continued to throw themselves at the fence. We didn't have a choice, now. We either went inside, or we stood here while the dead came for us. It was a hell of a choice
, for sure.

I took a deep breath and exhaled, then headed inside. I spun to the left and then started sweeping the room. It was clear, for the moment. Copeland and Randall stepped inside and I pulled the door shut.
The lock was ruined, but it was an old-style door with the push bar across the back to open it. I quickly snagged two brooms and a mop to shove through the bar. I put them in at different angles, blocking it shut. It wasn't great, but it was better than nothing.

The door opened outwards, so I figured it would hold for a while. If the dead had to force the door inwards, then they would have to fight against the steel door and doorframe. Luckily, they weren't very good at pulling doors open. Only one of them could even grip the doorknob to pull. As if to prove m
e right, I heard the sound of the dead hitting the door. Instead of working the knob or trying to yank the door open, they just began beating their hands against it.

That would hold them
, at least for now. The only dead I had ever seen actually use a doorknob were the
Stalkers.
Thank the Gods, but so far I hadn't seen any sign of them in town. I quickly scanned the storeroom for anything else I could use that would reinforce the door. That's when I noticed that all of the boxes on the storage shelves had familiar logos. They were all liquor boxes with well-known brand names on the sides. We'd just broken into a liquor store. Some days my luck sucks, but today it was good.

"Mock not the traveler met on the road, nor maliciously laugh at the guest:
The sitters in the hall seldom know the kin of the new-comer:
The best man is marred by faults, the worst is not without worth."

-
The Havamal

There was no way that we were going to be able to take all of this with us, but I really wanted to. I would have to suffice with a bottle or two of Bushmills, if I could find any. I saw the shelf I was searching for. There were six cases of Bushmills of various types. That would be enough to keep me in alcohol for quite some time. I knew there would be more on the shelf, but the cases would have to be taken when we had a vehicle.

I brought my pistol up and started for the door. I was going to have to clear the rest of the place before we could safely let our guard down. It was a good sized building, so clearing it would take a little time. So long as the front doors were still intact, we could hide in here without being seen until the dead had either focused on something else or wandered off. I was hoping that it wouldn't take too long. We only had about an hour of daylight left. Worst case scenario, we'd just have to spend the night in here.

"You two wait here," I whispered. "I'll be right back."

I didn't wait for either of them to protest. Randall seemed like an alright guy, but I wasn't sure if I could count on him to cut his share of the pie and not leave me hanging. It was dangerous to go alone, but it was more dangerous to go with someone who might let you get bit by not covering their section. It was kind of a catch-22. I didn't have to like it, but I did have to deal with it.

I swept the other back rooms, including the coolers. There was nothing in the backrooms or the small office. When I peeked out into the main part of the store, I could see the silhouette of a man standing at the end of the aisle. In the semi-darkness of the room, I could only make out slight details. I crept closer and felt the hair on the back of my neck standing up. My pulse began to quicken and I moved in for the kill. I didn't want to fire until I was close enough to insure a single kill-shot.

The figure hadn't moved, but I've see the dead do this before. Sometimes, they go completely inactive when they haven't had anything to stimulate them for a while. I wanted to take this thing down quick,
just in case it was a
Shrieker
. The last thing I wanted was for this thing to alert the others to our hiding spot.

When I was within about a dozen paces, I
brought the pistol up and took careful aim. I was a little farther away then I wanted to be, but I was afraid it would notice me before I got too much closer. I decided it would be best to shoot it twice, just to be certain. Lining up my shot, I put the sights right on the middle of the back of the creature's head. I exhaled slowly and steadied my hands, then fired twice.

The suppressed handgun made very little noise, but it seemed loud to me in the quiet store. I knew I had
to have hit it, but it didn't fall. It also didn't react. So, I shot it twice more to make sure I hadn't missed. It was unlikely that I would miss twice. When it didn't fall, realization began to dawn on me. Lighting up my flashlight to illuminate the figure, I confirmed my suspicions. I had just shot a goddamned mannequin in the head, four times. I could see four ragged holes in the plastic.

To make matters worse, I heard shuffling feet behind me. Spinning around, I saw two zombies emerge from near the cash registers and start towards me. One was dragging a badly damaged left leg, while the other had most of the right side of its face chewed off.

"Aw, fuck," I muttered, and lined up my sights.

Just to be safe, I put two rounds into the foreheads of both of them. They fell to the ground without so much as a twitch. Clicking off my light, I crouched as I moved towards the end of aisle. I stayed low and checked the front end of the store. There wasn't anything else lurking in the semi-darkness. It was all clear. The front doors to the store were both glass and there was a car parked directly in front of them.

I moved up to the doors and peered outside. There were a few dead wandering around the parking lot, but nothing close to the door. I reached over and discovered that both doors were unlocked. I twisted the locks as quietly as I could and locked both doors. Once the doors were secure, I stepped back behind the counter and took a quick look around. This place wasn't just a liquor store, it was also an outdoor supply store. That meant that they had ammo, fishing equipment and possibly firearms. I couldn't help but smile.

In the rack behind me, I could see several shotguns, a few deer rifles and even one civilian model AR-15. I grabbed a shopping basket and filled it with the ammo that I needed right now.
I loaded ten boxes of 12 gauge .00 buckshot, every box of .223 ammo for the AR and did a quick check for anything else I could use. I found four boxes of .22 magnum and two boxes of .45 Long Colt, sticking them into my pack.

In the display case, I grabbed four knives and a sharpening stone. Beneath the counter was a snub-nosed .357 revolver that must have been there for the clerk to use in the event of a robbery. I snagged it and all of the .38 ammo I could find. I knew that the .38 ammo could be shot out of the .357, but didn't have the heavy recoil of the magnum rounds. That would be a perfect gun to give Copeland. Not much ammo, low recoil and small frame. Then I headed back to the storeroom with my treasures.

The rifle and shotgun went to Randall, who immediately started loading them. I stuck my shotgun back on the side of my pack where it belonged. Copeland seemed to be happier once I gave her the pistol. I had to show her how to load and handle it. It was a hammerless Smith & Wesson, so she didn't have to worry about cocking the hammer back. I doubted that I could have found a simpler weapon for her to use if I had tried.

Randall snuck out to the front and returned with several candy bars and assorted snacks. I snagged a peanut butter power bar and started unwrapping it. There were several of them and no one else seemed to be touching them, so I tucked them all into my pack. Those might come in handy, if I had to eat on the run. Safer than eating candy too, since there wouldn't be any sugar crashes.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Randall, chewing on a jumbo Snickers.

"Well," I said, hesitating, "we could wait here for the night or try for the police station. We only have about an hour of daylight left."

"I say we stay here tonight," said Copeland. "We're all tired and my feet are killing me."

"I can't argue with her," agreed Randall. "This is as good a place as any to hold up for the night."

"Alright," I said. "Wait here and I'll be right back."

I slipped out into the front of the store and searched for a few items that I knew we would need before this was all over with. I slipped back into the storeroom and started cranking the dynamo powered lantern that I had snagged off of the shelf. I tossed the second one to Randall and he started charging that one, as well. A few moments later, we could see well enough to work by
, without using my flashlight. Then I unfolded the map of the town and handed Randall a sharpie.

"Alright," I said, pointing at the map, "can you mark some places on here for me."

"What are you looking for?" he asked, uncapping the sharpie.

"Anything useful," I said, shrugging. "Firehouses, hospitals,
emergency shelters."

"How about the OEM
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warehouse?" he said, smiling.

"Hell yeah," I said,
smiling. "Do you think that it's still secure?"

"I'm pretty sure it is," he replied. "We didn't have time to declare a full emergency. We weren't ready for the dead when they got here. It should still
be locked and full of supplies."

"What kind?" I asked.

"Food, for one," he said. "Well, mostly MREs. The Lacland County Sheriff's Department has their command post equipment there. There's a trailer full of communications gear for emergencies. Medical supplies, cots, survival gear and tents. Oh yeah, there's a Humvee there, too."

"A Humvee?" I asked, smiling.

"Yeah," he replied. "The sheriff got it from the government as surplus. They only use it in emergencies."

"Is it armored?" I asked, grinning.

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "It's just a regular Humvee. Hardtop with regular features. No armor or bullet-proof glass."

"Well," I said, shrugging, "you can't have everything. I'll take it."

"If we can get a clear path," said Randall, "I'll take us there in the morning."

"Fine," I said, "we'll ransack the police station another time. Let's hit the OEM building."

After everyone had eaten something and settled down, I reloaded all of my weapons and checked them over. No sense taking any chances with that. Once I was satisfied that my weapons were ready, I decided to take a look around in the store. There was sure to be equipment I could use. What I found put a big smile on my face.

The biggest s
core was an entire case of LifeStraws. I have never had the chance to use one before, but they are supposed to be worth their weight in gold. You can drink water right from a stagnant pond with one. They filter out pretty much everything and allow you to drink right from the source, just like you're using a straw. They're supposed to be good for something like a thousand liters. That would come in handy when I was on the move and weight was a factor.

I also found four higher end first-aid kits. They weren't as good as the D.A.R.K.
[22]
kit that I had on my belt, but they were good to have on-hand. I also found two excellent aluminum framed backpacks. They would work perfectly to put together a kit for Randall and Copeland. I could only carry so much gear. Having them carry their own gear would save a lot of wear and tear on me.

I found a case of prepackaged meals. They weren't quite as good as an MRE, but they were better than nothing. I even snagged a box of lensatic compasses. Not everyone could perform military style land navigation by using a map and a compass, but at least they would know what direction they were supposed to be heading.

By the light of the lanterns, I started assembling their kits. I had to be careful about the weight, since Copeland wasn't up to carrying heavy loads. Randall was strong and looked like he could keep up, so I didn't worry as much about him. I was confident that he wouldn't fall behind.

They each got a LifeStraw, a compass, a first-aid kit, three meals, six bottles of water and the ammo for the weapons they carried. I wanted to add more to it, but wasn't sure what they would or wouldn't need.
I made sure to leave plenty of room for them to add things that they wanted to have with them. Hygiene or personal items were always a plus. I kept two rolls of toilet paper, in mine. You never knew when that would come in handy.

I just couldn't bed down for the night until I had checked the entire store, again. I searched ever
y room, even the bathrooms. I kept low beneath the windows and avoided the doors, careful not to be seen from the outside. With just the glass between us, I didn't want anything to draw the dead to the door. We were safe as long as they didn't know we were there.

I finished my rounds and slipped back into the storeroom. Copeland was already asleep and Randall was making room to lay down. I double-checked the back door to make sure it was holding. I couldn't hear any sounds of movement outside, but that didn't mean that they weren't there. Sometimes they just stood still until something caught their attention. My biggest fear was rounding a corner and finding a large crowd of them just waiting for me.

I found a corner to prop myself up in and watched the door. I didn't want to lay down completely, so I wouldn't fall too deeply asleep. I couldn't risk not hearing something coming through the door. Not that the dead were subtle or anything. Unfortunately, it wasn't the dead that I worried about sneaking up on us. Well, maybe the
Stalkers
. They were too damned good at sneaking.

"You want to post a guard?" asked Randall, settling in on a pillow he'd made from his pack.

"It might not be a bad idea," I said, laying the Beowulf across my lap.

"Do you think that they'll find us in here?" asked Copeland, her voice thick with sleep.

"I doubt it," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "So long as we're quiet, I don't see how they'd know we were in here."

"I hope you're right," she said, almost whimpering. "I'm scared."

"We'll be alright," I said, comfortingly. "Get some rest. We'll get out of here and back to safety in the morning."

It hit me that Copeland might have seen blood and death as an EMT, but she wasn't a warrior. I felt sorry for her
. She was scared and vulnerable, not sure if she was going to see another day. It took a lot of guts on her part to come with me. She left behind the safety of the jail walls and walked into the unknown with a stranger. What must it have been like back there to make her that desperate to leave? After Armstrong had used the siren to call the dead down on us, I had a pretty good idea what kind of people they were.