Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (52 page)

Once the grave was finished, we lay Gunny in it as gently as we could. We each lay a token of our respect on his chest before we covered him with a blanket. We solemnly filled in the grave while Sergeant McDonald played taps on the harmonica. It’s a haunting tune, even on that instrument. There wasn’t a dry eye to be found.

As a grave marker, we made a cross out of wood lashed together with boot laces, then hung his helmet on the top. We stuck an American flag Velcro patch from First Sergeant Gregory’s uniform sleeve on the helmet and around the cross, we left his dog-tags. Anyone who passed this way would know, here lies the body of one tough old Marine.

When the last notes of taps faded away on the breeze, First Sergeant Gregory stepped forward.

“Order,” he snapped. “Attention!”

We all snapped-to with practiced military precision. Snake just followed suit. White Bear surprised us all by following the commands like someone who had once been a soldier.

“Present…ARMS!” bellowed the First Sergeant.

Crisp salutes were brought up for our fallen comrade.
We held it for a long moment before releasing. We had chosen to forgo the twenty-one gun salute. We didn’t want to use the ammunition and the noise would attract too much attention. The best we could do was pay our silent tribute to a man we all admired and respected.

As we walked back towards the house, I fell into step next to White Bear. My suspicious were confirmed when the two of us matched strides. I knew that he had been in the military, since matching strides was an old habit that was very hard to break in those who had spent much time in uniform.

“So, when were you in?” I asked, not quite looking at him.

“Still shows, huh?” he replied.

“A little,” I answered, “if you know what you’re looking for.”

“I served in the Marines during the Korean War,” he said, not meeting my gaze. “I don’t usually talk about it.”

“What part of Korea?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“I was at the Chos
in Reservoir,” he said, matter-of-factly.

My jaw almost dropped. He was casually mentioning he was in one of the worst battles of the entire conflict. That battle was legendary. The Marines who fought there had to endure some of the worst fighting and worst conditions any American soldier ever had to endure. This man was a warrior worthy of anyone’s respect.

“Gunny would have loved to have met you,” I said, respectfully.

“It would have been nice to talk to another old Leatherneck,” he said, smiling slightly.
“He was the kind of man I would love to call friend.”

“Yes, he was,” I replied. “He was one of a kind.”

“You know it was his time to go, right?” asked White Bear.

“I can’t help but think that if we hadn’t pushed so hard coming up the hill,” I said, softly, “that he might not have died.”

“You can’t think like that, son,” he said, reaching over and patting me on the shoulder. “I dreamed that it would happen.”

“When did you dream it?” I asked, intrigued.

“The night before you all arrived,” he replied. “I knew you were coming and that we would have to bury one of your people. I sometimes get these dreams that come true. How do you think I knew how much food to thaw out of my deep freeze?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I had seen enough of things I couldn’t explain
, to doubt him.

“It was a dream sent to me by Raven,” he explained.

“What?” I asked, surprised.

It was strange that he would mention Raven whe
n I knew that Odin used ravens as his messengers. Huginn and Muninn.

“Raven is the messenger of the gods,” he said, not quite looking at me. “It is a common theme for both of us, is
it not?”

“Yes,” I answered, perplexed.
              “But…”

“I saw them
, too,” he said. “In my dream. A pair of ravens led you here and it was the will of the Gods that our paths cross.”

“To what end?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

“I thought about that, too,” he replied. “I came up with a possible solution.”

“Go on,” I said, turning to face him.

“I’m too old to go with you or to fight,” he explained. “I’m just going to stay here. Once your task is completed, I wouldn’t mind if I was allowed to join your group at your new camp.”

“Of course,” I said. “We’ll come back for you, once we’re finished.”

“I have an old map of this area,” he said. “It has gravel roads marked on it. I can show you a way back to your camp without going through any towns. You can avoid the worst of the dead and make your trip in less time.”

“That’s great,” I said, smiling. “I’d love to have a look at that map.”

“I will give it to your friend,” he said. “The one you call
Spec-4
.”

“Alright,” I said, not sure why.

“She will be leading your group back this way,” he said, meeting my gaze with piercing brown eyes. “You will not be with them.”

“Do I get left behind?” I asked, surprised.

“In my dreams,” he said, softly, “you fall. I do not see you in my visions, after that.”

“Does that mean that I die?” I asked, softly.

“I don’t know,” he answered, breaking eye contact. “I simply don’t know. Will that stop you from going?”

I thought about it for only a moment before answering.

“No,” I said, firmly. “Even if it means my death, I won’t let them face this alone.”

“I knew you would say that,” he said, smiling. “I sensed that about you.”

“Don’t tell the others, please,” I asked, frowning.

“I won’t,” he agreed. “There is no sense worrying them. I might be wrong.”

With that, we turned and headed back to the house. The others were already there, organizing gear and checking over our weapons. Since it was already midday, we decided to wait until first light to continue on towards the lake. If I estimated the distance correctly, if we left now we wouldn’t make it to the lake until right at nightfall, anyway. No sense getting there in the dark. We might as well get there with enough light to accomplish our task and be moving away from the lake before dark.

We ate summer sausage, cheese and bread for our lunch and chased it down with ice cold spring water. White Bear was simmering a big pot of venison stew for our dinner and the smell was intoxicating. I couldn’t wait to have a bowl of it.

We spent the afternoon going over our equipment, cleaning weapons and checking over our supplies. White Bear gave us each a pair of large plastic bags filled with homemade venison jerky and dried fruit. There was enough food in those two bags to keep a person moving for a week or more, if they rationed it right. It was more than generous of him.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the treasure. “This means a lot to us.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, casually. “My little generator can only keep me going for so long. I had to do something with all of my venison or it would have went bad. I’m too old to live on jerky and dried fruit. I don’t think my system could handle it.”

We all chuckled and tucked our food away. I don’t know about the others, but I was looking forward to trying the jerky. I’ve liked different types of jerky since I was a kid. Hel, it was half the reason I went deer hunting every year. When I got a deer, I made several pounds of jerky out of it. The rest went to roasts, steaks and burger.

The afternoon passed quickly as we enjoyed the down time. We prepared our gear and rested as much as we could. Spec-4 and I joined White Bear on the deck and he showed us his map. It was an old US Forestry map from the fifties and it had gravel roads marked on it. Newer maps rarely, if ever, marked unpaved roads. This map showed us how to get from the lake to Bennett Springs and bypass almost every town along the way. It would be very helpful to us.

Just before sundown, we all headed inside and secured the doors and windows. White Bear had an ingenious system set up that would allow him to open them during the day, but lock them securely at night. It operated like oversized shutters, but they were heavily constructed out of oak timbers locked together with heavy steel bolts. The
Stalkers
would need heavy equipment to get through them. At least we knew he’d be safe until we returned.

I didn’t tell anyone about White Bear’s warning. I saw no reason to scare everyone with portents of my demise. Besides that, I had no intention of letting it come true. If that
was Odin’s will, then so be it, but don’t expect me to go down without a fight. I don’t believe in surrendering to my fate. I once read a Star Trek novel called
“The Final Reflection”
by John M. Ford. It was about Klingons and summed up my philosophy. There was a quote in it that said something like this:

“Yet if I should die, I die with my name on my enemies lips. Yet if I should die, I die with my hands on my enemies throat. And in the next world, I shall kill the foe a thousand times. Laughing. Undefeated.”

What else could I ask for?

“When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain.”

-
                    
Gravedigger

-
                    
Dave Matthews Band

The night passed more restlessly than the previous night. Partly because we were nervous about the journey that was ahead of us. Mostly it was because, without the rain it was much easier to hear the
Stalkers
as they searched for a way inside. It still bothered me that despite not seeing us inside, they somehow sensed we were there. Without any noise to draw them, they were just looking for us. It was eerie.

I eventually fell into a fitful sleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but it was still dark in the room when I was shaken awake by someone grabbing my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see Spec-4 leaning over me in the dim light from the lantern. Before I could say anything that might make noise, she put her hand over my mouth and shook her head.

After a moment to gather my thoughts, I nodded once and she removed her hand. I could see her wide-eyed expression and knew something had to be wrong. She stood up and motioned for me to follow her. All around us, the others were sound asleep. I could hear their soft breathing and light snores. It took me a moment to realize what I wasn’t hearing.

“They’re gone,” she whispered, motioning for me to follow her towards the stairs that led into the basement.

Being very careful about where I stepped so I wouldn’t step on anyone, I followed her across the room. Taking out a small flashlight, I turned it on to give us just enough light to walk by, without being too bright. They might not be gone, after all. They might just be smart enough to try to trick us into revealing ourselves. We couldn’t afford to take any chances.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were in a large room with doors leading off of the main room. The main room had a reloading station for ammunition, a pool table and several chairs. There were sliding glass doors that led to the outside, but they were covered with heavy beams to prevent t
he dead from getting in. The first door we went to was a bathroom, but the second led to a store room. She shut the door behind us and turned towards me.

“This room has no windows and no outside access,” she whispered, gesturing around her.

“OK,” I replied, softly. “What about it?”

I glanced around the store room and could see that it was well stocked with mason jars of fruit, vegetables and other things that had been canned in the old fashioned way. White Bear had been busy preparing his food for quite some time. He must have been doing his own canning and preparing
, years before the apocalypse struck us. I would guess that White Bear had been ready to go “off the grid” long before any of the rest of us had considered it.

“I think it’s safe for us to risk talking in here,” she explained.

“Alright,” I said, “what’s so important?”