Using the spear as leverage, Bergelmir got to his feet and ripped it free, killing Hrungnir in the process. He stood on unsteady feet and held the spear above his head, roaring in triumph to the heavens above. I knew that the Gods would hear his victory call. As he stood calling out defiantly to the sky, first one, and then three more black feathered arrows buried themselves in his chest. They were the massive arrows used by the Eldjötnar.
As the light began to fade from his eyes and he dropped to his knees for the last time, I saw the Eldjötnar archer emerge from the shadows of the building. He was clad in black armor and held a bow that was easily taller than I was. On his back were two quivers containing dozens of the black-fletched projectiles of death.
The archer strode over in front of Bergelmir and looked down at him. In the darkness of the hood that he wore, I could see none of his facial features. I could barely make out the bright gleam of his eyes. He stood there for a long moment before leaning down. He whispered something to Bergelmir that I could not hear. Then he took two steps back before lopping his head off with a long sword that he wore on his left hip.
After Bergelmir was dead, he began to study the ground with keen interest. Soon, he began to discern tracks in the dirt on the ground and in the debris that littered the area. In that instant I knew what was following us. This was no ordinary Eldjötnar.
This was a tracker and he was hot on our trail.
Chapter Twenty Four
Shadow of Death
I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness,
nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.
- J.R.R. Tolkien
I woke up and found that I was sweating profusely. Undoubtedly, I was running a fever. As I lolled my head back and forth, I could see that we had made good time getting away from the fight. We were several blocks from there, near an elementary school where my oldest son had attended kindergarten. That meant that we had made enough twists and turns that the tracker was going to have his work cut out following us.
“W..w..w…,” I tried to say, but my parched throat wouldn’t allow me to speak.
“Just relax, Wylie,” said Spec-4.
She had my right arm draped over her shoulders and my left was across Bridgett. Between the two of them, they were essentially carrying me.
“I think he’s trying to tell us something,” said Bridgett.
“Let’s take a break and let him rest,” replied Spec-4.
“N…no,” I rasped. “D…don’t…stop.”
“Why?” asked Spec-4, concern in her voice.
I had to swallow hard to try to use the small amount of moisture in my mouth to lubricate my throat enough to let me speak.
“Someone is following us,” I managed to croak.
Both of them immediately looked behind us, but there was no one there. I wasn’t sure if I could explain to them how I knew it. Well, not without sounding certifiably insane. Even I thought I was crazy, but I knew what I had seen. Somehow, it had really happened. I was as certain of that as I was that my name was Wylie.
“I don’t see anyone,” said Bridgett.
“Trust me,” I gasped. “He’s coming. There’s an Eldjötnar tracker behind us and he’s gaining ground.”
“How do you know this?” asked Spec-4. “You’ve been out for almost an hour.”
“I…uh…I can’t really explain it,” I replied, “but it’s true. I know it.”
“Anyone else and I would think that they were just nuts,” said Spec-4, “but I have come to accept that when Wylie is concerned, expect the unusual.”
“So what do we do now?” asked Bridgett.
“We get the Hel out of here,” I answered, wheezing a bit.
“I’m not sure how much more you can take,” said Spec-4, looking concerned. “I mean, you’re already burning up with a fever.”
“If we don’t keep moving,” I said, “a fever will be the least of my worries.”
We kept moving, until we were crossing over a pedestrian bridge that spanned one of Springfield’s major cross streets. Kansas Expressway was littered with cars, so it was much easier to just use the bridge that had been put in place for the Greenways trails. It would also be a high enough vantage point that we could try to get a glimpse of our pursuer.
The best part was that on the other side of the expressway was an industrial center where we could easily cover our tracks and use it to try to throw him off of our trail. The trick was to make it into the industrial park without being seen. If we could do that, then we had a decent chance of losing him completely.
Once we reached the top of the walkway, we paused and crouched down beneath the apex with just enough room for us to watch back the way we came. If I had been in better shape, I would have brought out Beowulf and waited for him to show himself. As tempting as that thought was, I knew two things for certain. One, Beowulf would make way too much noise, and two, the silenced M-4’s didn’t have enough punch to take down one of the Eldjötnar.
"We should really keep moving," whispered Bridgett. "I mean, if that guy really is following us shouldn't we get as far away from him as possible?"
"She's got a point," added Spec-4. "Maybe we should get moving."
"I just wanted to get a glimpse of him," I said, softly. "I just wanted to be sure that he was still behind us."
"I think you might have just gotten your wish," gasped Bridgett. "I think that's your guy."
I turned back and glanced the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, about four blocks back along our trail there was movement. At first I thought it might just be one of the dead wandering around, but the movement was too cautious. Whoever it was, he was doing his best to remain concealed. After a few moments, I saw him emerge from behind an overturned car. It was the same figure that I'd seen kill Bergelmir. I wasn't hallucinating.
"There," I wheezed. "That's him."
"He's definitely one of the Eldjötnar," said Spec-4. "Not even the Hrimthurssar are that big."
"Look at the size of that bow he's carrying," Bridgett added, a note of appreciation in her voice.
"Don't get too attached to it," I replied. "He's planning on putting arrows in all of us with it."
"I bet it has tremendous pull," she said, shaking her head.
"Yeah, all the better to punch arrows through your armor and out the back," I replied.
"Well, there is that," she replied, smiling.
"Hand me my M-4," I whispered to Spec-4. "I have an idea."
"You do realize that at this range it would be a tough shot even when you’re not hurt" answered Spec-4.
"I'm not planning on shooting him," I said, smiling. "I have an idea that might throw him off of our track."
Shrugging, she handed me the M-4 with the suppressor on it. I checked the load and chambered a round. Then I brought the weapon to my shoulder and began looking around through the ACOG. Just to double check, I sighted in on him with the reticule. I had to do some quick mental calculations to get a rough distance. I knew that the stadia lines were about the width of a normal man's torso at the range it indicated. I had to adjust for the fact that this was no ordinary man. She was right about the distance. He was easily three hundred yards away. I'd be hard pressed to hit him with a suppressed weapon at this distance when I was at my best.
Panning away, I began to search for something that would meet my criteria. I had to look around two apartment buildings and a church before I found something that might just do the trick. I found an overturned pick-up truck with the passenger side window intact. It was only about a hundred yards away, but in a different direction from where we were heading. If I could hit it and cause it to break, the noise would attract him. By the time he figured out we weren't going that way, we'd be long gone. At least, that was the plan.
"Won't he hear the weapon cycling?" asked Spec-4.
"Doubtful," I replied. "At this range, he shouldn't hear anything from the weapon. Not u
nless he's got super-hearing or something."
"Want me to take the shot?" Spec-4 asked after a moment.
I thought about it for a second and decided that she was right. I might be a bit more alert than before, but I was still running a fever and my hands were trembling slightly.
"Yeah," I said, sighing. "You take the shot."
She took the rifle and brought it to her shoulder, like the pro that she was. I described where the truck was at and what I had seen. She only took a moment to pan with the ACOG before she found what I had described.
"Got it," she said. "What's the plan?"
"Take out that window and he'll go that way instead of following us," I explained. "He might lose the trail entirely or take a good long while to pick it back up."
"If you can stall for about half an hour," began Bridgett, "I think we can throw him off completely. I smell rain."
She was right. On the breeze was the wafting smell of water in the air. We were going to be getting some rain very soon. From the looks of the clouds above us, it looked like it would be quite the downpour.
"Alright," whispered Spec-4. "I'm going to take the shot. Let's get ready to bug out."
I heard her steady her breathing and watched as she slowly took up the slack on the trigger. The soft cough of the suppressed weapon seemed very loud to me, but I was right next to it. The Eldjötnar shouldn't be able to hear a thing.
Instantly, I heard the window of the pick-up shatter. I watched as the Eldjötnar turned that direction and began to move more quickly, darting across the road and an open expanse of tall grass. We waited without moving until he disappeared behind the church.
"Let's move," I whispered.
Spec-4 slipped my M-4 over her shoulder and helped me up. Bridgett took up my other arm and we headed down the far side of the bridge and followed the Greenways trail. I was able to put a bit more weight on my legs, but not enough to support myself. At least it was providing some relief for the girls. I knew that they were both tough and capable, but carrying me had to be taking its toll on them.
When we reached the point in the trail where it turned to the right and into a park, we veered left into the industrial park. I could see where several of the chain-link fences had been knocked down and we headed though that section, trying to cut a more direct path to our destination. I knew that up ahead, we would pass through the grounds that belonged to a rubber factory. They made belts that went on all sorts of pulleys, from car engines to conveyor belts.
I remembered that back in the first few days of the outbreak, there had been some type of explosion that I thought was at the factory. Even if it had exploded, it was of little consequence to us. What we were heading for was on the far side of the road from the factory. We were heading for the Southside Headquarters of the Springfield Police. If there was anything left inside to scavenge, we would take whatever we could use.
The best part was that there was also a fire-station attached to the end of the building. That meant first aid supplies and equipment that they would need to put me back together. It was also a defensible building where we could hold up for a while, while I tried to recover. Although based on the way I was feeling, it might be a few days.
We were coming up on the back of the plant when we saw the damage. Behind the building were two massive fuel oil tanks that ran the steam boilers for the plant. They used steam to heat the rubber to a melting point and also to vulcanize it after the manufacturing process. Something had set off the fuel tanks. There was extensive fire damage to the main part of the factory. The back half where the warehouse was, had collapsed completely. Twisted metal and burned out cars littered the area.
We were just ducking past a rusted out piece of equipment when I heard the whistling of what could only be an arrow. It struck the rusty equipment, less than a foot from where we had been standing just moments before. It shattered against the steel and sent shards of the arrow flying in all directions. One shard, about an inch long, managed to lodge itself in my right cheek, just below my good eye.
"Fuck!" I hissed. "That bastard didn't stay lost for long."
I could see Bridgett glancing behind us as we took cover.
"He's still close to two hundred yards behind us," she said. "That's one hell of a shot with a bow."
I knew that it was. Having bow-hunted half my life, I knew that a hundred yard shot was amazing. Two hundred, and coming that close, was beyond impressive. I would estimate that bow would have to have at a minimum of a hundred and fifty pound pull. Probably more considering the raw strength of the Eldjötnar.
"Let's duck inside the factory," said Spec-4. "We can lose him in there."
"Or set a trap," I added, trying to smile.
Picking our way over a pile of debris, we slipped through an opening and into part of the warehouse that was still standing. The smell of burned rubber and wood still hung heavily in the dead air. It was dark inside, but there was enough light filtering through the openings in the ceiling that we could avoid falling over the rubble on the ground.
"Take the aisle to the right and then take a left into the factory," I wheezed.
"How do you know which way to go?" asked Spec-4.
"Long before I was a C.O.," I said, coughing softly, "I worked here in this factory for a couple of years."
"Good enough for me," added Bridgett.
We turned past the burned out warehouse offices and then headed through an open bay door into the darkened factory. Most of the equipment had been burned badly, but not enough to bring down the building. I could hear the creaking of the rafters above our head, so I knew that the entire structure was unstable.
"We can't stay in here for long," I said, shaking my head. "This entire place could come down on top of us."
"I noticed that, too," replied Spec-4. "We need to get through to the other side and see about bringing the house down on the archer behind us."
"What do you have in mind?" I asked, smiling.
"I thought I'd take a page from the Grant playbook and look for something to blow up," she said, smiling at me.
"Now you're talking my language," I said, coughing as I chuckled.
Spasms of pain wracked through my body as I suppressed the cough and groaned. It felt like there was a fire inside my stomach, and not the good kind you get from a good glass of whiskey. Despite the healing drought that Fornjot had given to me, I knew I was in bad shape. I wasn't healing anywhere close to what I had grown accustomed to. I was beginning to think that I'd just pushed my body too far. Maybe it was giving out on me.
"Whatever we do," I said, gasping, "we need to do it fast. Our destination is right across the street."
"Then maybe an explosion isn't the best way to handle this," said Bridgett. "I mean, won't that attract too much attention. There are search parties out looking for us all over the city."
"She's right," I rasped. "We need to find another way."
"Well, this is a red letter day," chuckled Spec-4. "Wylie Grant doesn't want to blow something up."
"Oh I want to, alright," I said, coughing softly and sending waves of pain through my abdomen. "I just know that if we do, we'll have bigger problems on our hands."
"Alright, we find another way," agreed Spec-4. "What do you have?"
"I'm working on it," I groaned, and spat a mouthful of blood and phlegm onto the ground.
"That's not good," said Bridgett, nodding at the spot.
"Not, it's not," agreed Spec-4.
Behind us in the darkness, we heard something metallic hit the concrete floor. Quickly, we ducked behind a large press and tried to remain as quiet as possible. We waited for a long moment, straining our ears, before we heard the unmistakable sound of soft boots scuffing on the floor. Obviously they were trying to be silent, but that was almost impossible considering the amount of debris on the floor.
"He's close," whispered Spec-4 in my ear.
I could only nod my agreement. My chest was hurting too badly to speak. I knew that if
I tried, then my coughing would give away our position. It was likely that he already knew where we were, but I wasn't going to help him get a bead on us. I didn't want to see either of the girls take an arrow and I doubted that I could take one and stay conscious…or alive for that matter.
As the shuffling sounds grew closer, I took my arm from around Bridgett and began digging in the pouch on the side of my pack. By feel, I located the shape of exactly what I was looking for. It wasn't going to be lethal, but it wasn't going to make him very damned happy, either. In fact, if I played my cards right, it might mess him up enough to give us a tactical advantage.
Pulling the flash-bang grenade up in front of me, I showed it to the girls. The grin on my face told them what I was planning on doing with it.
"Cover your ears and close your eyes," hissed Spec-4.
I straightened the cotter key before I grabbed the ring to pull out the pin. Ordinarily, I would have just pulled the damned thing out. However, this was not ordinary circumstances. I doubted that I had the strength to do it, and I would probably drop the grenade if I did. That just wouldn't do.
The pin slipped free and I glanced above me. I projected the angle that I would need to go over the press, so that it would land close to where we had heard the steps. I knew I wasn't going to get another chance to catch this bastard off guard. I also knew that the Eldjötnar had no way to know what a flash-bang grenade was, much less what to do about it. He would likely react by looking right at the source of the noise.
On a silent three count, I let the grenade fly and heard the spoon clatter off into the darkness. Immediately, I closed my eye and shoved my fingers into my ears. Seconds later, the pressure wave of the explosion hit us and the bright flash of light could be seen through my eyelid. Despite my fingers in my ears, the noise was intense.
Behind us, I could hear shouts of pain and what I assumed was cursing in a language that I didn't understand. It sounded reminiscent of Icelandic, but I didn't speak that either. I just knew what it sounded like.
Ragnarok Rising: Desolation: Book Five of the Ragnarok Rising Saga Page 32