Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga)

by Roberts, D. A.

  They stepped out into the sunlight, blinking in the bright light. I recognized Becca and Kirk Jensen from D-shift. I didn’t see anyone else inside. Other than the smell and needing a shower, they both looked in good shape.

  “How did you two survive in there?” I asked, shocked.

  “The place was stocked with jars of fruit and vegetables,” said Becca. “There were enough of them for us to last.”

  “What did you do for water?” asked Elliott.

  “We drank the juice from the jars,” replied Jensen. “If it hadn’t been for all of that, we’d have never made it.”

  “How many of you were there at the roadblock?” I asked, wondering who they had carried away to make the blood trail.

  “Four of us from the Sheriff’s Office and two National Guardsmen,” replied Jensen. “There was me, Becca, and Corporal Landon from the jail. We also had Deputy Krista Beeks from patrol.”

  “What happened?” I asked, already having a pretty good idea.

  “When we first encountered the zombies, we still thought they were rioters,” said Becca. “We tried telling them to disperse and leave the area. They didn’t listen to us. Instead, they came at us with unbelievable speed.”

  “Sprinters,” I muttered. “That’s why they were overrun.”

  “The National Guardsmen went down first,” said Jensen. “We were firing at them, but they just wouldn’t fall. We learned too late that only a headshot would keep them down.”

  “That’s when we lost Ray,” said Becca, tearing up. “He saved me from one of them, but they took him down.”

  “Why didn’t you take the vehicles and leave the area?” I asked.

  “Well, Beeks got bit in the leg and we had to help her walk,” said Becca, her voice thick with emotion. “We didn’t know she was going to turn. When we put down all of the dead in our area, we decided to get out of there. The problem was, we couldn’t find the keys to the cruiser or the Humvee.”

  “You don’t need keys for a Humvee,” I said. “It would have started without one."

  “I wish we’d have known that then,” said Jensen.

  “I think Ray had the keys to the cruiser,” said Becca, “but we couldn’t find them anywhere.”

  “Yeah,” said Jensen. “There was another group coming our way, so we grabbed all the weapons and what little ammo we had left. Then we headed for the farmhouse.”

  “We used up the rest of the ammo to get here,” said Becca. “We found it was all boarded up, but the owner let us in.”

  “Later that night,” said Jensen, quietly, “Beeks turned and got the farmer and his family before we got out the back. I think they’re still trapped inside.”

  “Is that where the guns are?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” said Jensen, “but I don’t recommend going in there. Counting Beeks, there are six of them inside.”

  “Where are the guns?” I asked.

  “In the living room with our belts,” answered Becca. “You’re not planning on going in there, are you?”

  “Did you grab the rifles from the Guardsmen?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but we don’t have any ammo for them,” she added.

  “We do,” I said. “I want those guns. We’re going to need them if we’re going to arm you and take you with us.”

  “Alright,” said Jensen, “what do you need us to do?”

  “Just get their attention on the back door,” I said. “I’ll shoot them through the windows on the porch.”

  We all headed over to the back porch and checked the door. They had locked it from the outside with bailing wire and a board. I removed the lock and swung the door open. The back porch was clear but the door into what looked like the kitchen was closed. I was about to go to it when a grotesque face appeared in the window.

  Instinctively, I snap-fired through the window and shot it in the forehead, spraying gore onto the yellow refrigerator. Instantly, a second face appeared and knocked out the broken glass reaching for me. I shot that one, too. The noise attracted others and I shot them one at a time, until I counted six shots. The last one had been the disfigured face of Krista Beeks.

  It took the combined strength of Elliott and I to push the door open with all of the bodies lying against it. Once we were inside, I turned on my tactical light mounted beneath the barrel on my M-4 and started sweeping the room. Elliott followed me, but I motioned for Becca and Jensen to wait outside. They were unarmed and would only get in the way if there were more of the dead inside.

  We quickly collected the weapons, belts and equipment bag, and then headed back out the way we came. As I passed what had once been Deputy Beeks, I leaned down and removed the badge from her grey shirt. I slipped it into my pocket and turned to head out the door when something caught my eye.

  In the living room, I saw something that we had missed before. Hanging above the fireplace was a sword. More specifically, it was a cavalry saber. I headed back towards the sword, glancing around me to make sure there were no other surprises waiting in the shadows.

  Elliott followed me, giving me a questioning glance. I just nodded at the sword and lowered my rifle, letting it hang around my neck by the strap. Elliott covered me while I retrieved the old relic. I could tell it was old, but I wasn’t sure exactly how old. I knew that the US Army had issued cavalry sabers to mounted cavalry as late as World War Two. I had a feeling that this one was much older than that.

  It was in beautiful condition, and I admired the craftsmanship. Gently, I drew the blade and gazed at it in surprise. The etching on the blade was pure art. It was a museum piece. More than likely, it had been a relic that belonged to this family for who knows how many generations. Engraved in the blade was the inscription, “Captain Thaddeus Jefferson Beaumont, 1st Virginia Partisan Rangers. Confederate States of America.”

  It was a relic from the Civil War and it looked as sharp now as it had been when Captain Beaumont carried her over 150 years ago. It was beautiful. Slipping the blade back into the sheath, I turned and nodded to Elliott.

  “Let’s get out of here, son,” I said.

  He just nodded and turned to head out the door. As we headed back out the door, I paused at a coat rack and picked up a wide-brimmed grey hat with the gold braided cord of a cavalry officer on it. I could tell it was a reproduction and not authentic, but it was in good shape. I slipped it on my head and followed Elliott out the door. It would do nicely to keep the sun off my head.

  We returned to the vehicles and broke out water and food for our newly rescued officers. They took the opportunity to use some of our water to clean up, as best that they could. We had brought extra clothing for ourselves and dug them out. Spec-4 gave a set of her black BDU’s to Becca and Southard gave a set of his to Jensen. Mine would have been too big for him.

  While they were cleaning up, I took the opportunity to check their weapons over to make sure they were in working order. Once that was done, I reloaded all of them from our ammo supply and handed them out to our two newest additions. Now they each had a loaded pistol, M-4 and a shotgun. The remaining weapons went into the back of my Humvee.

  “Nice sword,” said Southard, pointing.

  “You like that,” I said, showing him the name on the blade.

  He just whistled his appreciation.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “She’s a real beauty.”

  After Jensen and Becca had finished, we all headed towards the vehicles. Elliott still wanted to drive, so I put Jensen in that Humvee and Becca joined Spec-4 and me in ours. I wanted to get moving, since we’d already wasted too much time here. It was midmorning when our small convoy pulled back onto the highway. The sun was now bright enough that I slipped my sunglasses on.

  We drove cautiously for almost half an hour before we reached the outskirts of Strafford. We had been seeing more zombies along the road and a few in it. I’d managed to clip the ones in the road, turning them into Crawlers in the process. Fortunately, Strafford was a small town and didn’t have a large enough
population to create a massive horde of zombies. Admittedly, there would still be a lot of them but I was confident that we could get through.

  When we finally cleared the city limits, I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t factored in all of the additional dead that would have come from the stranded vehicles along the interstate. We made it through, but it was a close call. Elliott handled it like a pro and stayed right behind me. We even managed to get through without using the SAW, so we didn’t lose any ammo in the process.

  The outer road was clogged with traffic, almost as bad as the interstate. The two roads were only separated by a narrow swath of grass and there were dead everywhere. We had to drive through the ditch to get clear of the obstructed areas, running over scores of the dead in the process. The front end of my Humvee was covered in gore and there were streaks of blood smeared across the windows, but we made it through.

  At the next overpass, I took a chance and tried to cross over the interstate. After what had happened at Strafford, I decided that I didn’t want to risk going into Marshfield. It was much larger and if it had been swarmed from the interstate like Strafford had, then we wouldn’t make it through in anything short of an armored personnel carrier or a tank.

  The ramps on and off the interstate were blocked with cars, but it looked like the outer road on the other side was mostly clear. I managed to pick my way between abandoned cars on the overpass, but we had zombies beating on our windows the entire way. Once we were clear, we accelerated away from the area to put some distance between the dead and us. We had to go faster than we had been traveling to get away from the Sprinters.

  From that point, it was country roads all the way to Bennett Springs. Since I had never taken this route before, I had to stop a few times to consult my map. By following one-lane blacktop and gravel roads, I could completely avoid the small towns of Conway and Phillipsburg. I really didn’t want to go into the town of Lebanon. Although I knew it well, the dead would be everywhere. The “riots” hit Lebanon before Springfield and they had fewer resources to bring to bear.

  It was well after noon when we found our way to Missouri State Highway 32. From there, I knew the route by heart. We would be entering the valley above Bennett Springs within the hour.

  Chapter Three

  The Valley of the Dead

  “Confront them with annihilation, and they will then survive; plunge them into a deadly situation, and they will then live. When people fall into danger, they are then able to strive for victory.”

  - Sun Tzu

  We drove down the country road without seeing another living thing. I didn’t even see any deer, which was unusual for this area. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I was certain that it didn’t bode well for us. Even the houses along the road, although few and far between, seemed empty and uninviting. Although the road was clear, I kept my speed down so I could watch the sides of the road. It was eerie to drive such a familiar road and see absolutely no sign of life. Not even the dead.

  The sun was still high in the sky when I saw the wooden sign at the side of the road that indicated the entrance to the park. Less than fifty yards beyond the sign, I could see something obstructing the road. There were several sawhorses completely blocking off both lanes of the road. A chain connected them and ran to trees on either side of the road. A large orange sign in the middle read, “Park Closed Until Further Notice! Keep out!”

  “So do we cut the chains?” asked Spec-4, glancing at me warily.

  “No,” I said. “I know another way into the park. It’s a dirt road, so I doubt that they blocked it off. Not many people know it goes into the park.”

  I grabbed the mic and keyed up.

  “829 to 917,” I said.

  “Go ahead,” replied Southard.

  “We’re going to backtrack a little way up the road,” I said. “Just follow my lead and stay close.”

  “Copy that,” he answered.

  I put the mic back in its cradle and turned the steering wheel. The ditches were too deep for me to drive through, so I did a three-point turn. Elliott followed my example and turned around to follow me. Just beyond the wooden sign was a gravel road that led off into the woods. I knew from experience that it led into the south end of the park, right next to the spring that gave the park its name.

  We crept down the dirt road at less than twenty miles per hour. I wanted to keep the noise to a minimum, as well as look for problems along the way. I knew that this end of the park had cabins that rented during trout season, so it was quite possible that there could be someone or something down there. After my time with the Freemen, I wasn’t sure which worried me more.

  When I could see the concrete slab that passed for a bridge, I slowed to a stop. It had water across it, which was unusual. Although with the amount of rain we’d had over the last few weeks, I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me to see the water level so high. It meant that crossing the river would be almost impossible at anyplace other than a bridge. The Niangua River was notoriously dangerous when flooded.

  Niangua was an Osage Indian word that meant “many springs.” When the spring rains came, the river could be a raging torrent. I did a quick estimate of the depth of the water, from memory. If I estimated correctly, the water would have to be close to three feet deep over the road.

  Elliott stopped a few feet behind me and waited. I sat there quietly for a few moments, just watching the area ahead of us for any signs of trouble. I still didn’t see anything moving. I couldn’t decide between just driving into the area and sneaking in on foot. If I drove in quickly and there were a large number of zombies, I could always turn around and head out at speed. If I crept through the woods, I could use my binoculars and sweep the area without risking them seeing us.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Spec-4, expectantly.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied, honestly. “Part of me wants to sneak in on foot and get a look around before we go in with the Humvees.”

  “Not a bad idea,” she said, nodding. “If there are survivors down there, we might not get shot at. I don’t know about you, but I already survived a hit by an RPG. I’m not in any hurry to do it again.”

  “Me either,” I said, remembering the hit all too vividly. “Alright then, it’s settled. You and I will sneak in through the trees and have a quick look around. If it looks clear, we’ll fall back to the Humvees and drive in.”

  “What about me?” asked Becca.

  “You stay here,” I said. “Keep the vehicle secured. I don’t want any surprises when I get back.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  I could see relief on her face. I knew that spending almost a month in a root cellar probably had a bad effect on her, but I was concerned that she might have lost her nerve. I’d have to remember to keep an eye on her. If she froze when we went into a fight, it might just get her or one of us killed. I couldn’t risk that, especially with my son along on the mission. Not to mention the fact that so much was riding on our success. I hoped that Spec-4 had noticed it, as well.

  After explaining our plan to the others over the SINCGARS set, Spec-4 and I grabbed our weapons and packs. Once we were out of the vehicle, Becca secured the doors and nodded at us. I really hoped that she would open the doors if we came back at a run with a mob of undead on our heels. If she didn’t, things would get a bit interesting. We would have to dive into the other vehicle. I knew Elliott and Southard wouldn’t leave us to our fate.

  Shouldering our packs, I slipped the cavalry saber into my pack-straps. I wanted to have a blade along in case things got too close for firearms. I slipped my Gladius off of my belt and handed it to Spec-4.

  “For me?” she said, taking the blade. “You always know just what to get a girl.”

  “Do you know how to use that?” I asked, smiling.

  “I think I have the basics down,” she said, returning the smile. “You can always give me a few lessons, later.”

  “We can do that,” I agreed.

  W
ith the sword on her belt, she really did look the part of a modern day Valkyrie. She adjusted the position of the sheath and nodded at me when she was satisfied with the way it felt. I quickly double-checked the load on all of my weapons and waited for her to do the same. Once the ammo check was completed, I adjusted my hat and glasses. With a wave to the others, we headed off into the trees.

  We followed the road from inside the tree line, working our way closer to the edge of the park. I could see the water through the gaps in the trees. I could even smell the damp vegetation around me. The one thing that was missing was the sound. I couldn’t hear so much as a cricket chirping. The woods around us were completely silent. No birds, no squirrels, no insects. There was nothing at all.

  As we neared the bottom of the hill, we were approaching a parking area with a playground and picnic area. I could see that it was empty. There weren’t any vehicles in the parking lot and I didn’t see any movement in the immediate area. We crept slowly closer to the edge of the parking lot and crouched down in the bushes. Reaching into my pack, I took out my binoculars and started sweeping the area.

  I could see the cabins across the spring from us. There weren’t any cars and they all looked locked up for the winter. I didn’t see any signs of violence or any damage to the buildings. Sweeping back to the north, I froze when I saw the public restrooms. Bullet holes completely riddled the south wall. I could see dried blood on the wall, but I didn’t see any bodies. The little hairs on the back of my neck started standing up and alarm bells began ringing.

  I handed the binoculars to Spec-4 and pointed at the restrooms. She took them and began adjusting the focus, silently studying the building for a long moment. When she lowered the glasses, I could see concern in her eyes.

  “What the hell happened there?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “I’m not an expert,” I replied, “but it looks to me like someone was put against that wall and executed.”