Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga)

by Roberts, D. A.

  Everyone checked their weapons and their extra ammo. If we were about to walk into a firefight, then they certainly wouldn’t take us by surprise.

  “McDonald,” I said.

  “Yes, sir?” he replied.

  “Stay on your scope,” I said. “If you see anyone with a weapon, let us know. I’d rather not have any surprises.”

  “Got it,” he replied, and went back to his weapon.

  Spec-4 took my binoculars and began sweeping the shoreline ahead. Cal Sanders unpacked his M-249 SAW and set it on its tripod, next to McDonald. If McDonald started shooting, Cal would rake the shoreline with automatic weapons fire. That would give us an extra layer of protection since we were out in the open on the water. We might be sitting ducks on the water, but McDonald and Cal would make sure that this duck could bite back.

  As we got closer to the Army center, I could see that there was a large dock with an assortment of different boats tied up there. This facility was supposed to be a recreation facility for the soldiers stationed at Fort Leonard Wood. I didn’t see any fishing boats tied along the dock, but I did see one high-end cabin cruiser, several fast speed boats and numerous jet skis.

  “We’re clear, so far,” said McDonald.

  “I don’t see anything, either,” agreed Spec-4.

  “Alright,” I said, “let’s tie along that dock and see what we can find.”

  I began to throttle back on the engines and slowed our approach to the dock. I didn’t see any signs of movement, but I knew that only one of the speed boats had the power and the size to make the wake I had seen. The cabin cruiser would have been too slow and the jet skis made a much smaller wake.

  By the time we drifted up to the dock, I had cut the throttle completely. No sooner had we bumped against the dock when Snake jumped across and tied us up. First Sergeant Gregory, Ramirez and Spec-4 went ashore next, taking up firing positions behind the fronts of boats to provide cover for the rest of us. Cal Sanders and I went ashore next.

  Before Heather could come ashore, I motioned for her to stay behind. We couldn’t take all of our gear with us, so we needed to make sure it was protected. I motioned for Snake and Ramirez to remain behind with Heather. Ramirez nodded and Snake gave me a dirty look. He didn’t like the idea of being left behind. If there was a fight, he wanted to be right in the middle of it. I couldn’t really blame him.

  I made sure we were all using suppressed weapons, just to be safe. No sense in making too much noise, especially if they didn’t know we were there. If they were hostile, it would be much better to just deal with them instead of bringing down every undead in the area on both of us. Call me crazy, but I preferred to fight only one enemy at a time.

  Flipping the selector switch from safe to semi-auto, I headed to the front of the group and took up a firing position behind an equipment locker. Once we were in position, I began scanning the trees for any sign of trouble. The place looked deserted. There were numerous buildings that had busted out windows and broken doors. The grass was overgrown and only the sound of the wind in the trees could be heard. The place was a ghost town.

  “I don’t see anyone,” whispered Spec-4, glancing around.

  “Cover me,” I replied, and began moving in a crouch towards the end of the dock.

  When I reached dry land, I knelt down and took cover behind a concrete anchoring post that the dock was attached to. Spec-4 moved up behind me and took cover behind the opposite post. Behind us the others began to leap-frog in pairs, alternating cover and movement. In the military, it’s called Two Man Fire and Maneuver.

  I motioned for the others to cover me and crept out from behind the post. I moved out onto the dirt and knelt down, examining the ground for any signs of tracks. In the soft earth at the base of a clump of grass, I found what I was looking for. It was the heel-print of a military-style combat boot. It was fresh.

  “They came this way,” I said softly, pointing to the track. “The tracks head off in this direction.”

  Once I had a track to follow, I began to notice other signs as well. The tall grass showed signs of recent passage. I could tell that whoever had gone this way had taken steps to conceal their tracks. However, I don’t think they were expecting to be followed by a living person. I wasn’t the best tracker in the world but I could follow them, easily enough. My friend, John Banner, could have tracked them in the dark.

  I started glancing around, trying to determine which building they had gone to. I didn’t see any signs of power or lighting anywhere. All of the larger buildings in the area were heavily damaged and completely dark. The pattern was similar to the way that our building above the entrance to the bunker had been breached by the Stalkers. The damage to windows, doors and even the roof in some cases, was the same. This place had been taken apart by the Stalkers.

  I followed the tracks to what looked like an office building. All of its doors and windows had been torn apart in the same fashion. I couldn’t see any reason that someone would go inside, but this is where the tracks led me. They were either hiding inside, or went through the building to throw off trackers. No matter what, we would still clear the building, tactically. Better safe, than gunshot.

  When everyone caught up with me, I motioned for everyone to form up. We stacked up in formation next to the door and broke into fire teams. Spec-4 and I would take the first room on the left and clear it. First Sergeant Gregory and Sergeant McDonald would take the next room. Sanders would cover the main hallway with his M-249. Once each room was clear, we’d leap-frog to the next one until we’d cleared the building.

  Spec-4 and I had cleared three rooms when we found a stairwell leading down. The door to the stairwell had been ripped open and the stairs were littered with debris. The building was in darkness, except for the light that filtered in through the open windows and doors. I swept my tactical light down the darkened stairwell, half-expecting to find a group of Stalkers waiting for us.

  The stairwell was clear and ended at a large steel door. It was heavy and had a touchpad locking mechanism. There was no sign of a handle or hinge. It looked to be sealed tight. I was beginning to suspect that the people we had been following had gone down here when something caught my eye. There was a tiny red LED light glowing on the camera above the door. The rest of the facility may have been without power, but whatever was behind that door wasn’t.

  “Down here,” I said, gesturing for the others to follow me.

  Spec-4 and I went down the stairs and began examining the door. Sanders came partially down the stairs, then turned and covered the door with his weapon. First Sergeant Gregory and Sergeant McDonald followed us down and watched our backs. Other than the door, there was nothing else down here. The building above us was just a cover for whatever was behind this door.

  I lit up the touchpad with my tactical light and began examining it, closely. I had little doubt that it would take me months to figure out the combination, and then only if I was very lucky. This was a high-end security lock and I doubted it had something as simple as a four digit combination. There was a slot along the left side of the lock that indicated it could be opened with a pass card. I didn’t have one of those, either.

  “Wylie,” whispered Spec-4, urgently. “The camera just moved to get a better look at us.”

  “That’s because whoever is in there is aware that we’re here,” I replied, without looking up.

  I reached into my pack and took out a heavy combat knife. I used the tip of the blade to probe the cracks along the edge of the door. I could barely get the edge of the knife into them. I wasn’t going to open this door by prying it with my knife. Then again, I really didn’t expect to, but it was worth a try.

  After examining the door and finding no signs of weakness, I turned to the touchpad again. I didn’t see any call button; only numbers, the asterisk and the pound sign. However, as sophisticated as the locking mechanism was, I had little doubt that the camera could pick up audio as well as video. It didn’t make sense to in
stall an expensive security system and skimp on the camera.

  “What the fuck,” I muttered. “It’s worth a try.”

  “What is?” asked Spec-4, quizzically.

  Turning my face to the camera, I began speaking to them. I hoped that whoever was watching would hear me and decide to talk to us. They were safe inside their fortress, and I’m sure that they were aware of it. I had to do something to make them think we were enough of a threat to that safety that they would acknowledge us. Even if it was just to say “Go away.”

  “I know you can hear me,” I began. “Open the door so we can talk or we’re going to break it down.”

  “I don’t think they believe you,” answered Spec-4. “What are you going to do? Kick it down?”

  “Trust me,” I replied. “Last chance, people. Talk to me or we come in after you.”

  A speaker crackled to life and a static-filled voice spoke.

  “This facility is the property of the United States Government,” said the voice. “You are trespassing. This facility is under the direction of the United States Army. Leave the area immediately or face criminal charges.”

  “Criminal charges?” I asked, incredulously. “Have you looked around lately? The government doesn't exist anymore. Much less the army.”

  “Exit this area immediately or you will be met with deadly force,” replied the voice.

  “We won’t go out without taking a bunch of you with us,” I cautioned. “I’m sure that you’ve noticed that we’re all armed.”

  “You are not authorized for access to this facility,” droned the voice. “You will not be allowed inside.”

  “Open the door, or we’re coming in,” I replied, anger in my voice.

  “Yeah, good luck, pal,” came a different voice over the speaker.

  This one sounded younger and not as educated.

  “You might as well not waste your time,” said the voice. “You couldn’t get through that door with a cutting torch.”

  “Well,” I replied, opening my pack. “It’s a good thing I brought this, then.”

  I held up a block of C-4 that we had brought to use on the dam. There was enough in this block to put that door into orbit. I held it up for the camera to get a good look, then slapped it against the door, sticking it in place.

  “Hey, asshole!” snapped the voice. “Get that off of there!”

  “Or what?” I replied. “Open the door and we talk. Keep jerking me around and I’ll blow the fucking thing off.”

  There was silence for a long moment, then the first voice came back on. Whoever it was, he was doing a damned good job of staying calm. Much better than the other guy.

  “There’s no reason for that, I assure you,” said the first voice. “What do you want and maybe we can work something out.”

  “All I want to know is where the dead with the claws came from,” I said, looking into the camera. “They’re not like the others and they seem to come from this area.”

  “Come inside and we’ll talk,” he replied. “I’m afraid that we won’t be able to let you into the main part of the facility, but we can talk to you in a secure area. We would appreciate it if you came unarmed.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not walking in to a trap and getting captured or killed.”

  “Fine,” he said. “but only one of you may come inside.”

  I handed the block of C-4 to the First Sergeant and nodded.

  “Here, take this,” I said. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, blast your way inside and come get me.”

  “No problem,” he replied. “Just be careful.”

  “I will,” I assured him.

  Spec-4 didn’t look happy about the situation, but didn’t argue. I turned towards the big steel door and it began to hiss open. Light spilled out from inside and I half-expected to be fired on. I brought my own weapon up and swept the opening, my finger lightly touching the trigger. Spec-4 and McDonald also brought up their weapons, ready to return fire.

  There was no one inside the small room. It looked like a concrete airlock, with a similar door on the opposite side of the room. I saw no windows or markings on the plain walls. Only a camera pointing in each direction a recessed light in the ceiling kept the ten by ten room from being completely empty. It was painted a uniform light grey on the walls, floor and ceiling.

  With a quick smile and a nod at Spec-4, I stepped inside. I had no more than cleared the threshold when the door began to hiss shut behind me. I glanced back to see a concerned look on Spec-4’s face, but she made no move to follow me. I felt my ears pop as the room pressurized. The entire facility must have been on positive air pressure to keep contaminates out. That meant that they had been working on something that required a clean environment.

  I spun back around when the other door began to open. I brought my weapon up, but didn’t point it directly at the three people who emerged as the door slid open. The first one was a man dressed in a white lab coat with a clipboard in his hand.

  The other two were in Army uniforms. One was a man in his mid-twenties, his name-tag read Walters and he was wearing E-5 Sergeant’s rank. The other was a girl that couldn’t be much more than twenty-one. Her name-tag read Baines and she was wearing E-3 Private First Class rank. They were both carrying M-4’s, but didn’t aim them at me.

  “Hello,” said clipboard. “I’m Doctor Emil Saltzman. I’m the project director for this facility.”

  “Sheriff Wylie Grant,” I said, not extending my hand. “Nathanael County Sheriff’s Office.”

  “Oh, my,” he said, frowning. “You’re a bit outside your jurisdiction, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t think that matters, anymore,” I replied. “There aren’t that many people left. Old jurisdictions are irrelevant. We’re just trying to survive, now.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed. “What can we do for you, Sheriff?”

  I hated it when people did that. It might have been the end of the world, but that didn’t mean people had to be disrespectful. I mean, come on. I didn’t address him as Doctor. All of that aside, I wanted some answers and I had a feeling that we were in the right place.

  “Tell me about the Stalkers,” I said, without thinking.

  It occurred to me then that he would have no way of knowing that’s what we called them. Before I could say anymore, he spoke.

  “Stalkers, huh?” he said, smiling. “Is that what you call them?”

  “What should I call them, doctor?” I returned.

  Alright, I could only resist doing it for so long. I don’t think the irony was lost on him. He gave me a measured look before continuing.

  “What you refer to as a Stalker,” he said, frowning, “is what happens when the Reaper Virus infects one of our test subjects.”

  “What kind of tests?” I asked, suddenly worried.

  “We are a government research facility funded by the Department of Defense,” he said. “Our research is classified.”

  “By whom?” I demanded. “I don’t think there's anyone left in your chain of command. When was the last time you were in contact with anyone?”

  “Well, it has been some time,” he admitted.

  “Besides that,” I said, anger creeping into my voice, “if your experiment is loose, then I’m pretty damned sure I need to know what the fuck I’m facing.”

  That seemed to make him think. He frowned while he chewed his lower lip, considering the situation. I could see that he had reached some sort of decision when he looked up and sighed.

  “Alright, Sheriff,” he said reluctantly, “I’ll tell you what I can. I can’t give away the process, but I can at least warn you about what you’re up against. This facility was working on a project called Predator. We were taking volunteer test subjects and genetically altering them with the DNA from an African Panther. We were trying to create an enhanced soldier that could operate nocturnally without the need for night vision equipment.”

  “And it worked?”
I asked, incredulously.

  “We had a certain amount of success,” he admitted. “However certain issues arose. They became difficult to control and extremely sensitive to light. In addition, they exhibited hardened dactylic keratinous extensions.”

  “You mean claws, right?” I interrupted.

  “Yes,” he said. “I believe that’s what I said.”

  Sergeant Walters rolled his eyes at the doctor. I had the distinct feeling that he talked to everyone like that. It probably hadn’t made him many friends.

  “How light sensitive are we talking?” I asked, already having a pretty good idea.

  I wanted to test him and see how honest he would be with me.

  “They don’t do well in well-lit areas,” he said. “For example, they will close their eyes and go dormant during times of mild light exposure. A strong porch-light or security light should suffice to keep them away from a door. However, they will hide from bright light sources, such as direct sunlight or something of similar intensity. They are completely nocturnal.”

  “How did they become infected by the Reaper Virus?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  “We were ordered by our chain of command to deploy the test subjects in an attempt to slow the advance of the living dead,” he explained. “We did meet with limited success, programming the Predators to attack the dead. We had hoped that their unique metabolisms would be resistant to the Virus. We were wrong. Once they were infected, they turned and we could no longer control them. We had to lock them out of the facility to keep from being destroyed.”

  “Let me guess,” I said, “since they couldn’t return here to hide from the sun, they found another method. The bottom of the lake.”

  “So it would appear,” he admitted, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Now, since we are cut off from our chain of command and have no way to evacuate the area, we stay inside the facility and try to make our supplies last.”

  I didn’t like this guy. Something about him just rubbed me the wrong way. He was condescending when he spoke to you and seemed to enjoy rubbing his intelligence in your face. It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings for him to be eaten by his creations.