Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga)

by Roberts, D. A.

  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, but 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.

  I saw several possibilities where the Trooper could have come from. Nothing that looked inhabited, but several that looked like they could have been defensible. None of them looked like something we should stop and search, but they were worth remembering for future reference. We were getting close to town when I saw something that made me slow down for a better look.

  On our right was a parking lot with a few buildings. There was a golf course behind it and even tennis courts. It looked like some kind of country club. There were a few vehicles in the parking lot, most of which were damaged. One of them was a Missouri State Highway Patrol Car. The buildings weren't anything special, other than it looked like the doors and windows had been covered from the inside.

  "I think we might have found it," I said, pointing.

  "That could be it," agreed Spec-4.

  "Think there is anyone left alive inside?" asked Snake.

  "I hope so," I said. "There was at least one person who's been in the military, inside."

  "Why do you say that?" asked Southard.

  "Look at the flag," I said.

 
Everyone craned their necks to see the flag that was still fluttering in the breeze atop the flagpole. It was frayed and damaged, but unmistakably an American flag. It was also flying incorrectly.

  "Why is it upside down?" asked Snake.

  "It's a call for help," explained Spec-4. "Flying it upside down is a distress signal."

  "Ten points for Gryffindor," I said.

  "I guess that makes me Hermione," said Spec-4.

  "Well, Wylie's old enough to be Dumbledore," said Southard, laughing.

  I gave him the old one-fingered response and made a sour face at him.

  "What the hell are you guys talking about?" asked Snake.

  "Just some Harry Potter references," I said, smiling.

  I pulled into the parking lot and slowed almost to a stop. Of the six vehicles in the parking lot, most of them had been damaged in collisions. Only one stood apart from the others. It was a severely damaged pick-up truck with bullet holes in the windshield and driver's side door. There was dried blood on the back window, but nobody inside.

  "That explains why he was walking," I said, pointing to the cars.

  "I wonder why they tried to reach the park instead of heading into town?" said Spec-4, shaking her head. "That was one hell of a long shot."

  I didn't see any dead in the area, so I slowed to a stop right in front of the main doors. I sat there with the engine idling for a few moments, just looking around.

  "Are we checking the building or just sitting here?" asked Snake, leaning forward between the seats.

  "We're checking it," I assured him. "I just wanted to look things over before we got out."

  "Fair enough," he said, and leaned back. "Let me know when you're done looking around. I'll be nearby."

  I turned to reply, but he was already getting out of the door. He shut the door and brought up his weapon, then headed for the building.

  "Aw, shit," I muttered, grabbing my weapon and getting out my door.

  "Here we go," said Spec-4, following suit.

  Southard joined us and we all brought up our weapons, sweeping the area just to be safe. Snake just headed right for the main building. The wind was picking up and you could hear the flag flapping in the breeze. When we rounded the corner, we found Snake just frozen in place. The front door was open and a young woman that looked to be in her early thirties had a shotgun stuck to his forehead.

  "And that's why I wanted to check the place out before we went charging in," I said to him as we moved up, weapons at the ready.

  "Yeah," he said, almost stuttering. "I'm…uh…I get that, now."

  "Next time, we stick together," I explained.

  "Who the hell are you people?" demanded the young brunette with the shotgun.

  "We came looking for other survivors," I said, trying to stay calm.

  I also didn't lower my own weapon.

  "Lower you weapons or your friend dies," she said.

  "I don't think so," I replied, shaking my head.

  "I mean it, mister," she assured me, frowning.

  "Go ahead and shoot him," I said.

  "What?!" demanded Snake, eyes widening in surprise.

  "No offense, bud," I said, smiling. "But you brought this on yourself."

  "I ain't joking, mister," she snapped.

  "Neither am I," I said, keeping my tone cool. "But before you do, you'd better understand one thing."

  "What's that?" she said, not taking her eyes off of Snake.

  "If you do shoot him," I said, lowering my voice, "We have the firepower to turn this building into rubble. You will undoubtedly kill him. But we will unleash Hel on this building and everyone inside."

  "We're here because of a Missouri State Trooper," said Spec-4, giving me a dirty look.

  "What was his name?" demanded the woman.

  "We don't know," I said. "He didn't make it. We did find his dog. The tag on the collar says the dog's name is Aegis."

  "What do you mean, he didn't make it?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

  "The dead got him just outside of our area," I said, feeling bad for threatening her. "We managed to rescue the dog."

  "So, Henry didn't send you here?" she said, looking surprised.

  "No, ma'am," I answered. "We just backtracked what we thought was the direction he came from."

  "How did you guys know where to look for us?" asked Spec-4.

  "We have a scanner," she said, shaking her head. "We can listen, but we can't transmit."

  "His name was Henry?" I asked, not sure what else to say.

  "Corporal Henry Yocum," she said. "He saved our lives and kept us together. When we started running low on food, he volunteered to try to reach your group."

  "Lady," I said, lowering my gun. "We're not your enemy. How can we help?"

  At first, she just stared at us like the thought of us being friendly had never occurred to her. I can't say that I blamed her, though. It' not like we haven't run into our own share of survivors who tried to kill us. Spec-4 gave her a reassuring smile and took her hand off of the grip on her own weapon. Then she let the M-4 dangle from its strap and raised held her hands up with the palms showing to demonstrate she didn't want to fight.

  "You'd better not be here to hurt anyone," she said, sighing.

  Reluctantly, she lowered her shotgun and took a step back from Snake. He gave me a relieved look and shook his head.

  "You wouldn't have let her shoot me, would you?" he asked, concerned.

  "She wasn't going to shoot you," I said, smiling.

  "Yes, I was," she said, suddenly angry.

  "Not with the breech partially open," I said, gesturing at the shotgun.

  She checked it and swore. When she had worked the pump on the shotgun, she didn't lock it forward. Obviously, she wasn't very familiar with the weapon.

  "Look," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "My name is Wylie Grant. This is Chrissy Wilder, Chuck Southard, and the guy with the barrel print on his forehead is Janos. You can just call him Snake."

  "I'm Elizabeth Goddard," she said. "I'm sorry about the shotgun."

  "Don't worry about it," I said. "You had no way of knowing if we were a threat or not. Besides that, I doubt that it's the first time Snake has had a gun in his face."

  "He's got a point," muttered Snake, shrugging his shoulders.

  "How many of you are here?" asked Spec-4.

  "Six," she said. "Me, my daughter, two waitresses from the Club and an elderly couple that was here when things went bad."

  "How did you all survive, this long?" I asked, impressed.

  "This place has a restaurant," she said, gesturing behind her. "Corporal Yocum helped us barricade the place and set us up a ration plan."

  "Who hung the flag upside down?" asked Southard.

  "That was Corporal Yocum's idea," she answered. "He said he'd learned it in the Marines."

  "Sounds like he was a brave man," I said. "I wish we could have saved him. He sacrificed everything to try to get help for you all."

  "We'd all be dead if it wasn't for him," she said.

  "We don't have room for all of you in the Humvee," I said. "But we're going to radio our base and have them send another vehicle to pick you guys up. We can offer you guys shelter, food, water and protection."

  "Thank you," she said, tears in her eyes.

  "No thanks needed, ma'am," I said. "It's the right thing to do."

  Spec-4 got out her radio and walked a few feet away to try to make contact. I knew Winston would be monitoring our frequency and our handsets were well in range of the park. While she talked on the radio, we broke out a case of water and MREs and brought them inside. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough to make them all very happy. None of them looked like they had eaten a good meal in quite some time. Well, they were MREs. They still weren't getting a good meal.

  While I was watching them pass out the food and water, I made myself a promise. When we made it back to camp, I was going to have a glass and say a few words to the memory of K-9 Troo
per, Corporal Henry Yocum. The dead might have taken his life and body, but we could honor his memory. We'd have a fire and toast his name to let the Gods know he was coming. He'd earned his place in Valhalla.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Imposters

  "I have learned to hate all traitors, and there is no disease that I spit on more than treachery."

  - Aeschylus

  We didn’t wait for the team to come extract the survivors. We just made certain that they were safe and headed off into town. I spoke to Gunny on the radio and he assured me that they would be there to pick them up within the hour. So, after briefly teaching Ms. Goddard how to use the shotgun, we were loading up and heading out of the parking lot.

  It was eerily quiet as we rolled into the city of Lebanon. The streets were empty and not even small animals were to be seen walking the streets. The houses all looked abandoned and the storefronts were empty. It was like everyone had just disappeared. When the order came to evacuate, most of the city must have headed for the hills. I could only see the occasional abandoned car.

  As we passed the High School, we could see the massive amount of damage that had been done to the building. Undoubtedly, there had been one hell of a fight there when things broke out. Part of the building looked to have been on fire, at some point. There was even a massive hole in one wall, where it looked like a vehicle has crashed through.

  “Where they fuck did everybody go?” asked Snake.

  “Most of them must have headed for the hills when the evacuation order came down,” I replied, still looking around.

  There was an uncomfortable silence in the town. I’ve seen what it looks like for the dead to rule a town. The dead didn’t rule here. It was just dead. There was no life here. Everything just felt wrong. I wanted nothing more than to find the people we were looking for and get the heck out of here.

  “Where are the dead?” asked Southard.

  “Well,” I said, frowning, “either they wondered out of the area, or there are Stalkers here.”