Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga)

by Roberts, D. A.

  "Alright," said Randall. "Let's get moving."

  He headed for the front door to clear the barricade. Something in my gut told me not to go that way.

  "Hang on," I said. "I don't think we should go that way."

  "Why not?" asked Copeland, surprised.

  "I'm not sure," I explained. "I just think we'd be better off going a different way."

  "This is the fastest way," replied Randall, looking at me over his shoulder.

  "That's what worries me," I said, shaking my head. "If Rosewood and his people are waiting for us, that's the way they'll expect us to go."

  "How could they know which way we went?" said Copeland.

  "Cameras," I said, pointing. "They cut the power to this end of the building. I'm guessing that includes the cameras, too. But they would have seen us easily in the other part of the building."

  "Then why wouldn't they have stopped us before now?" asked Randall, turning around to face me.

  "Maybe they're planning to ambush us when we leave the building," I said, frowning. "I'm not sure, but I think we'd be better off taking a less obvious direction."

  "Alright," said Randall. "What do you suggest?"

  "Well," I said, thinking, "We could either go out the back way, which they're probably watching, as well. Or, we could go out a window."

  "How are they going to ambush us?" asked Copeland. "They can't go outside without the dead finding them."

  "The roof," I said, pointing up. "If they put a couple of people up there with rifles, they could just pick us off. Then they could retrieve the gear later."

  "Won't they just move when they realize we went out another way?" asked Randall.

  "I'm sure they will," I answered. "But once we're outside, I can shoot back. I'm pretty sure they're not going to like Beowulf."

  "What's Beowulf?" said Copeland.

  "My rifle," I explained. "That's it's name. It's called a Beowulf."

  "You name your weapons?" she asked, incredulous.

  "It's a manufacturer's name," said Randall. "I've heard of them."

  "Like I said," I added, "they won't like it when I shoot at them. This thing really packs a punch. Now, let's find a window to crawl out of."

  We headed into a different office and found a window that was large enough for us to crawl through. I peered out into the street and only saw zombies stumbling along in the distance. They were blocks away and not an immediate threat. I decided that it was worth the risk. I unlocked the window and slid it open. It was still about an eight foot drop to the ground, so once we jumped there was no turning back.

  I went out first and landed in a crouch. I quickly brought up the Beowulf and scanned around me. Once I was sure that it was clear, I moved out of the way and motioned for the next person to come out. Copeland came out next, with Randall helping lower her to the ground. She didn't have to jump very far and landed without any trouble. Randall waited just long enough for her to step aside and dropped to the ground.

  Once we were all down, I decided to head south. Bennett Springs was west of town, but I didn't want to head directly towards our destination. If they were watching us, they might be able to guess where we were going by the direction we went. Besides that, it would take Spec-4 and the others a while to get to us. We might as well head towards the other group of survivors in the Mega-mart.

  "This way," I said, pointing south.

  Randall nodded and headed across the street. Copeland started after him when I saw movement above us. I glanced up to see someone leaning out from the edge of the roof with a rifle. Drawing one of my silenced PMR-30's, I took aim and fired off two quick shots. I heard the grunt and the person disappeared from view. Randall glanced back and saw what had happened, and dove for cover behind a parked SUV.

  I darted out into the street behind Copeland, keeping my weapon trained on the roof. When I saw movement, I took a shot. I was moving backwards and aiming while on the run. I would be surprised if I actually hit anything. While I would have preferred kill-shots, I'd settle for keeping their heads down long enough for us to get to cover.

  "Hey Grant!" I heard the voice of Armstrong shout from the roof.

  I declined to answer, not wanting to give away our position.

  "I've got something for you AND the two traitors that went with you!" she shouted.

  I readied my rifle, just in case I had to take a shot. I really didn't want the loud noise, but I refused to sit here while they lobbed a Molotov cocktail or a grenade at us. I wasn't expecting what happened next. From the roof, I heard the soft high-pitched beginnings of a siren. It was the old hand-cranked type that they used to use to call storm warnings or air raids during World War Two. The more she cranked, the louder it got.

  In seconds, you could hear the whirring scream of the siren echoing away in every direction. Then, from almost every direction at once, it was answered. The chaotic sound of dozens of Shriekers screaming all at once made my blood run cold. They were bringing every zombie within range of that siren down on us. We were in major trouble.

  "Run!" I shouted, and pushed them away from the SUV. "Run or we're all dead!"

  "Where!" screamed Copeland.

  "I know a place!" shouted Randall. "Follow me!"

  I just looked at Copeland and shouted, "GO!"

  Wherever he was taking us, I hoped it was close. This entire area was going to be crawling with undead in a very short amount of time. Our only hope lay in finding a place to hide before they saw us. Armstrong had done her worst. If I survived it, I was going to kill that woman. Fair is far, after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lucky Break

  "Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered."

  - William Shakespeare

  We ran. Even though I was carrying more weight than anyone, I think I pushed them harder than they pushed themselves. I had the feeling that they had been inside since all of this started. That meant that I had a much better idea of what was coming for us. That knowledge led me to greater heights of strength and endurance. I knew I couldn't keep this pace up for too long, though. I sincerely doubted that we had much time left, anyway.

  All around us, I could hear the screech of the Shriekers and the snarls of the dead. There had to be thousands of them coming towards us. At the end of the block, I saw Randall turn to the left and pull Copeland along with him. When I rounded the corner, I could see movement up ahead of us. They were still quite a distance away, but I could tell they were dead. We were quickly running out of time.

  "This way!" bellowed Randall, heading across the street.

  On the corner was a large brick building that looked like it had once been a business or a factory. There was a fire escape on the side of the building, but it hung well above our heads. Randall headed right for it, motioning for us to follow. As we bounded up to the building, I could see the first of the pack of the dead were beginning to notice us. One by one, they began accelerating to frightening speeds. It was just my accursed luck that they would all be Sprinters.

  "Give me your hammer!" shouted Randall.

  I didn't argue and quickly handed it over. Even with the extended reach of the hammer, it was too far for him. Then he did something unexpected. He handed the hammer to Copeland and grabbed her around the waist. He was going to lift her up. With a grunt of effort, he stood up with her almost completely extended above his head. She wobbled a bit before finding her balance. Then she extended the hammer and hooked it over the bottom rung of the escape ladder.

  Once it clanged into place, Randall eased her weight onto the hammer and let her hang. Copeland held on for dear life as the old rusty fire escape creaked and groaned in protest. Then all at once, it came shrieking down to the ground. Randall kept Copeland from falling and steadied her on her feet. I quickly recovered my hammer and slung it back over my shoulder.

  "Get up the ladder," said Randall, pushing Copeland towards it.

  She began climbing and as soon as she was on the next ledge, Randall
started up. I covered them while they climbed and then headed up after them. As soon as I made it to the landing, Randall started pulling up the ladder. I helped him lock it into place, then we headed for the roof.

  "This place used to be a blue jeans factory," explained Randall. "It's been closed since I was a kid."

  "Alright," I said. "Then there shouldn't be anyone inside."

  "Shouldn't be," said Randall, shrugging his shoulders. "Who knows for sure."

  "We'll have to be careful, then," I said, motioning for everyone to get down below the ledge surrounding the roof.

  We all dropped down and I put my rifle against the edge. Using my ACOG, I began to scan the roof of the Sheriff's Office, a block or so away.

  "What are you doing?" asked Copeland.

  "Dishing out a little payback," I said, through clenched teeth. "The dead already know we're here. I might as well repay their kindness with a little gift of my own."

  I searched the roof and saw four people moving around. One was holding a rifle, two were pointing in the direction we had ran and Armstrong was holding the siren. I slowed my breathing and took careful aim. I gently squeezed the trigger and Beowulf roared his battle-cry across the distance between us.

  Just as I squeezed the trigger, she turned to walk away. She had moved just enough that I hit the siren, not her. The siren exploded in her hands and sent pieces flying in all directions. I could see blood pouring from her hand and from her cheek. It looked like I might have taken off a couple of her fingers in the process. She screamed and dove for cover before I could line up another shot.

  Before they all could take cover, I shot the deputy with the rifle in the center of the chest. I saw blood explode from the wound and he flew backwards, flailing his arms in the air and dropping the gun. He didn't get back up. The other two joined Armstrong on the ground before I could get one of them, as well. It wasn't much, but it would do for now. I knew it would only be a matter of time before our paths crossed again.

  I waited a moment for them to stand up, but they didn't show themselves again. Recovering my brass, I slipped them into my cargo pocket. Since Bowman was reloading these rounds, it would be easier for him to reload an existing casing instead of making one. I couldn't wait to tell him that his rounds worked just fine. They kicked a little harder than I was used to, but they worked. Bowman knew his craft, that was for certain.

  "Let's get inside," said Randall. "It's going to get hot up here, quickly."

  I just nodded and he headed for the access door that led into the building, keeping low to avoid any return fire. I kept my weapon trained on the other roof, just in case.

  "Grant," he called, after a moment. "I need your hammer, again."

  I handed it to Copeland and she took it to Randall, while I kept us covered. Seconds later, I heard the thunk of metal on metal, followed by the creaking and groaning of the door. Randall grunted and put his weight into the handle. It still wouldn't budge. The old lock was rusted solid.

  Satisfied that the others wouldn't be returning fire any time soon, I stood and backed over to where Randall was struggling against the old doorframe. I glanced at the door and gauged where the lock and handle were at.

  "You might want to step back," I said, bringing Beowulf around to aim at the door.

  "Oh, shit!" he shouted, leaping back with the hammer in his hands.

  I fired once into the lock and once into the door handle. The big .50 caliber rounds had no trouble punching through the aged lock and door, leaving large ragged holes where they went through. I turned and nodded at Randall, smiling.

  "I think that got it," I said, pointing at the door.

  "Yeah," he agreed, shaking his head. "I think so, too."

  He came back over and pulled the door open. The stairwell was dark and dusty. Years of cobwebs and dirt filled the passage and you could smell the dank musty smell of the long abandoned building. Clicking on the tactical light, I pointed it down as far as we could see. The dust was undisturbed, indicating nothing had been this way in a long, long time. I just hoped the entire building was this way.

  I took point and went down the stairs first. I was happy that there weren’t any tracks in the dust on the stairs, but it didn’t mean we were alone in the building. I emerged from the stairwell and scanned around the second floor with my tactical light. The only things I was illuminating were more cobwebs, dust and the remnants of outdated machinery. Not so much as a rat moved in the darkness and my footfalls seemed to echo off into the shadows.

  Randall and Copeland joined me on the second floor and looked around like they expected a ghost to emerge at any second. I took my emergency flashlight out of my bag and tossed it to Randall. He caught it and started cranking the dynamo to power up the light. I waited until he was finished, turned on the blue LED light and started panning it around.

  “You two wait here,” I said, softly. “I’m going to check out the ground floor and make sure that we’re secure up here.”

  “Alright,” said Randall. “Be careful.”

  I just nodded and headed off towards the stairwell that led to the lower floor. I paused at the top to listen for any sound that might indicate danger. There was nothing. Not even the sounds of rats or mice. That made sense because I doubt they would have left anything behind for them to eat. Unfortunately, that meant that there wouldn’t be anything for us, either.

  The stairs were against the back wall, so I put my back to it and started slowly down to the first floor. I took my time to keep my footsteps from echoing in the huge cavernous building. As I approached the last few steps, I paused to listen for reaction to the light. If anything gave me away, it would be my bright tactical light.

  I still heard no signs of movement, so I stepped out of the stairwell and aimed the light around. The ground floor was mostly empty, but for the walled off area that had to have once been offices. The rest was mostly empty. The windows were all covered with boards and the doors were secure. The only signs of light were from where daylight seeped through the cracks, sending little beams of light into the gloom.

  The air was thick with the musty smell of damp rot and it was clear that it had been many years since this place was occupied. I took a moment to check the doors that led to the outside. Each was locked tight and made of heavy reinforced metal. They were old, but they were solid. We were safe…at least for the moment, anyway.

  I quickly returned to the second floor and found Randall and Copeland sitting on an old work table. They both seemed to brighten when they saw me returning. I crossed the room to stand beside them, so I wouldn’t have to raise my voice.

  “We’re in good shape,” I said, softly. “The doors and windows are all secure. The dead don’t seem to know we’re inside.”

  “That’s good,” said Copeland. “I don’t think I could run much farther.”

  “That’s good for the moment,” said Randall, drawing out the last words. “We don’t have any food or water. We can’t stay here very long.”

  “I have enough food and water in my bag for today,” I said, removing my pack. “We’re going to have to find another supply, though.”

  “Where do we find that?” asked Copeland, concerned.

  “I know where,” said Randall. “There’s a fire-station not too far from here. If we can get there, we’ll have plenty of supplies.”

  “We need to find more weapons,” I added. “I can share mine, but we don’t have enough for all of us to have a rifle.”

  I took my shotgun off of my pack and handed it to Randall.

  “Do you know how to use one of these?” I asked, smiling.

  “I’ve fired shotguns lots of times,” he said, shaking his head, “but I’ve never seen one like this before.”

  I took a moment to show him the safety, the pump release and how to reload it. He looked at the Keltec like a kid with a brand new toy. I must have had the same look on my face when Gunny gave it to me.

  “Don’t get too attached to it,” I chided, s
miling. “I want that back.”

  “Alright,” he said, reluctantly, “if I have to.”

  “Yeah,” I said, smiling. “That was a gift. I don’t want to part with it.”

  “What about me?” asked Copeland.

  “Do you know how to shoot?” I asked, turning towards her.

  “Not very well,” she admitted, smiling sheepishly.

  “Well,” I said, reluctantly, “maybe we’ll not worry about that right now. I’d rather not give you a weapon you don’t know how to use. We don’t have enough ammo to practice with and we can’t risk making too much noise. “We’ll just have to cover you and keep you safe.”

  “Fine,” she answered, unhappily.

  I broke out my MREs and handed them out. I had just enough for all of us to have one. I slit mine open with my boot knife and began sifting through the contents. Mine was a Beef Ravioli meal, which wasn't half bad. MREs had come a long way since I had been in the Army. Back then we were lucky if ours was edible, let alone even remotely tasty. I just mentally shrugged and returned to shoving food into my mouth with a plastic fork. Randall was eating his like a pro, but Copeland was picking at hers. I could tell she wasn't used to the finest in military rations. I kind of envied her for that.

  For a place to hide, this building wasn't too bad. As long as the dead didn't know we were inside, we could hide in relative safety. I didn't think that the doors or windows would hold against a steady stream of the mobile dead. If any of them had any idea we were here at all, they would still be trying to find a way to climb the fire escape. They couldn't get to us, unless there were Stalkers out there. That would change everything.

  Once we finished our meals, I stashed all my trash in the MRE bag and rolled it up. Randall was doing the same thing to his. I had the distinct feeling that he had been in the military at some point. Copeland just tossed hers on the floor. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. I know there wasn't exactly a point in putting this stuff in the trash, but I still didn't want to just throw it on the ground.