The sun was just a red-gold sliver on the horizon when we finally reached the top of the stairs. The door opened upwards, like a trapdoor. It was also padlocked with a very heavy-duty lock. I doubted that anything I had with me would be capable of breaking that massive steel lock. Not even the shotgun would have much of a chance at it.
“Well, shit,” I muttered. “Now what?”
Looking around, the old man reached onto a steel girder that ran next to us and began running his fingers along the far side. After a few seconds, his face brightened with a big, toothy grin.
“Bingo,” he said, with a wink. “You’ve got to have faith, my boy.”
With a flourish, he produced a magnetic key holder and waved it in front of my face. Seconds later, he was opening the lock and shoving the door upwards into the floor of the building. We stumbled up the last few stairs and onto the wooden planks of the floor. Easing me into a stuffed chair, he turned back and shut the door, locking two heavy steel bolts in place to keep it secure.
“That should keep us from having any uninvited guests tonight,” he said. “Now, let’s see about getting you patched up.”
“What about the wolves?” I asked, my voice raspy with pain.
“Don’t worry about them, lad,” he replied, cackling. “They can take care of themselves.”
Lighting a lantern that was on a hook near the door, the old man began to check the place out. It had been maintained by someone. The place was stocked with supplies and even had furniture, as well as boxes of food and cases of bottled water. I knew that the Forest Service hadn’t used these places in years, so someone else must have done it. Whoever had done it, I was grateful that they had. I needed a place like this to rest and to recover. It would be some time before I was in any shape to fight or travel.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. I had survived what I thought was certain death. This time though, I would be bearing the scars for the rest of my life. There would be no recovering from this one. My eye was gone and nothing was going to bring it back. That changed everything for me. At first, I wondered how I was going to continue to fight with only one eye. Then my thoughts turned to Odin. The All-father only had one eye and was still the God of Battle.
I would find a way.
Chapter Two
Through the Fire
"Without change, something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens.
The sleeper must awaken".
- Frank Herbert
June (possibly) - exact date unknown
I slept. I'm not sure how long I was out, but the cabin was in darkness when I awoke. The only light was the flickering glow emanating from the fireplace, where a crackling fire burned. Suspended above the fire was a cast-iron cook pot that was covered with a lid. The smell of some type of stew filled the darkness and made my stomach rumble in eager anticipation. Although the spices were unfamiliar, I was fairly certain it was rabbit stew.
"Good morning," said the old man, leaning into the light from the deep shadows. "Although, it's really just the middle of the night."
"How long?" I croaked through cracked and swollen lips.
My throat felt as dry as the Sahara Desert, and tasted like it as well. I could still feel the fever burning in my veins. I was covered in a thick blanket and propped up on several heavy pillows. When I glanced beneath the blanket, I found that I was naked. Only bandages that covered my wounds concealed any of my flesh, although there were bandages on every part of my body. Even my left eye had been wrapped in gauze. The pain still radiated from my wounds, but it had eased to the point where it was manageable.
"You've been out for hours, son," said the old man. "I'm actually surprised that you're awake, now."
"My mouth is dry," I muttered.
The old man came over and brought me a bottle of water. I half expected it to be filled with the slimy, brackish water that he had given me when I was a prisoner of the Freemen. I would have drunk that too, but I was relieved to find that it was clear water. Slowly, he lifted my head and gave me small amounts of water until I had drunk enough to soothe my mouth and throat. Gently, he eased my head back down on the pillows.
"That's enough for now," he said, patting me on the cheek. "Don't overdo it. You’ll make yourself sick."
“I’m already sick,” I managed to croak.
“Well, sick-er,” he replied, chuckling.
As I eased back onto the pillows, I felt myself growing drowsy. Despite the aches and pains, the warmth of the fire was seeping into my bones and lulling me back to sleep. The old man moved over and added a few pieces of wood to the fire before sitting beside me. I could see his gaunt features in the flickering light of the fire. There was a fierce gleam in his eye as he stared into the flames.
Soon, he began to sing in soft tones. I didn't recognize the words, but the tune was oddly familiar. It was both comforting and seemed to ease my pain. I began to feel sleep washing over me like the warm glow of the morning sun. Visions of the sea and of dragon-headed ships began to fill my mind as the old man sang and I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep. His words echoed through my dreams.
Starka varna vesta lee
Obediah, obediah
Starka varna vesta lee
Obediah munyeh
Stolla stoyta stonga rerr
What says du? Da bunchka berr
What says du? Da bunchka berr
Littera meyvee drenyeh
Senna poppa warra
Obediah, obediah
Senna poppa warra
Obediah munyeh
When I awoke, the fire had died down to a faint flow. Gentle hands were cradling my head, bringing a spoon to my mouth. I could smell the aroma of the stew and my stomach rumbled in ravenous hunger. The spoon only held the thick broth with no actual chunks in it, but I didn't care. It tasted amazing. I ate the broth for quite a while before the warmth spread through my body and sleep came over me, once more. As I drifted, a soft voice began to sing again. It was strange, but before I drifted off I would have sworn it was a woman's voice.
This process repeated numerous times. It happened so many times, that I lost count of them all. Each time I awoke, I would see the old man. He would tell me tales of battles and of the Gods while gentle hands bathed my head with a damp cloth or fed me soup. It didn’t dawn on me for quite some time that the old man was on the other side of the fire from me and it couldn’t possibly have been him that was mopping my brow or feeding me. It didn’t sink in that there was someone else in the room.
************************
I opened my eye to find the room was filled with light. The fire was out and the shutters on the windows were open, letting daylight flood inside. At first, it made my eye hurt from the glare, but it soon passed and my vision began to clear. I slowly began to take in my surroundings, looking for the old man. I had a lot of questions that I needed to ask him. I was surprised to discover that he wasn’t there. Instead, two women were moving around the cabin, working on various tasks. It took a few moments before either of them noticed that I was awake.
I observed them for a few moments, curious about who they were and if they were friendly. One of them appeared to be Native American, with long dark hair pulled back into a braid. I would guess her to be in her mid-thirties. Broad shouldered and solidly built, she had the look of a fighter about her. She carried herself like a professional. While not unattractive, I wouldn’t describe her as beautiful. She was fierce looking. I liked that about her.
The other one was much younger. She looked to be in her early twenties and had long, red hair. With the pale complexion common in redheads, she also had the characteristic freckles. She was pretty, but lacked the intensity of the other woman. It didn’t take much to figure out which of them was in charge. The redhead seemed timid, compared to the fiery countenance of the older woman.
“He’s awake,” said the redhead, pointing at me.
With a grimace, I forced myself up onto my elbows.
“
Easy, there,” scolded the other woman, her tone surprisingly gentle. “Don’t over do it.”
“Where…,” I managed to croak, my voice catching in my dry throat.
“Are you?” finished the redhead. “That’s easy. You’re in a cabin just downriver from Osage Beach.”
“No,” I rasped. “Where is…the…old man?”
“What old man?” asked the other woman.
I wrinkled my brow in confusion and started looking around the room, wondering where he was hiding.
“There isn’t anyone around here but us,” said the redhead. “Well, no one living, anyway.”
“Easy,” soothed the other woman, approaching me slowly. “No one here is going to hurt you. You’re among friends.”
“The old man…,” I insisted. “I spoke to him.”
“You’ve been burning up with fever for days,” said the redhead, sliding into a chair facing me.
“We found you almost a week ago,” explained the dark haired woman. “We brought you here and took care of your wounds.”
“How did you know I wouldn’t turn?” I asked, my voice growing stronger.
“Well,” said the redhead. “We didn’t. Not exactly, anyway.”
“Then why did you risk it?” I said, cocking my head to the side.
“That’s a long story,” explained the other woman. “Why don’t we introduce ourselves first? I’m Melissa Skyhawk. You can call me Sky. Everyone does.”
“And I’m Morgan Devlin,” said the redhead. “You can call me Morgan.”
“Wylie Grant,” I said, shifting my weight onto one elbow.
“Nice to meet you,” said Morgan, enthusiastically.
“Where did you come from?” asked Sky. “The patch on your uniform says Nathanael County. That’s pretty far from here, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m from Springfield. How I got here is a really long story.”
“We have plenty of time,” said Sky.
“We found you the same day as the big explosion,” said Morgan. “We think someone blew up Bagnell Dam.”
“That would certainly explain why the river is flowing the way it is,” added Sky.
“That would be me,” I said, trying to sit all the way up.
My head spun and I felt weak. Nausea shot through me in waves and I had to lie back on my pillows to avoid passing out. I was vaguely aware that they were talking to me, but my pulse thundered in my ears and I couldn’t make out what they were saying. It took several minutes for my head to clear enough to understand them.
“You’ve got to take it easy,” chided Sky, gently. “Your body is still weak. You’ve been burning up with fever for days. We bandaged your wounds, but it will take time for you to heal.”
“I heal quickly,” I said, holding my head with my right hand.
“I’m sure that you do,” said Morgan, “but you were hurt really bad. We didn’t think you would make it.”
“How did you find me?” I asked, turning my head towards Sky.
“On the day that the explosion happened,” she said, easing onto her knees beside me, “I was preparing to head into the woods to gather herbs. I’m a healer. I learned it from my grandmother.”
“Cherokee?” I asked, glancing at her.
“Ojibwa,” she explained.
“I’m Irish,” said Morgan. “But I bet the red hair kind of gave that away.”
I just smiled. Her accent sounded more like Chicago, but I wasn’t planning on arguing the point.
“We don’t go out at night,” said Sky. “There is a type of zombie that hunts at night.”
“We called them Stalkers,” I explained. “We ran into them, as well.”
“Stalkers, huh,” said Sky. “Well, that fits them. They never could get inside here as long as we stayed locked down. They couldn’t force open the trap door and they couldn’t climb out far enough to climb on top of the building. Once they figured out that they couldn’t get inside, they pretty much left us alone.”
“They’re way smarter than regular zombies, too,” said Morgan.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “We found that out, the hard way.”
“Us too,” said Sky. “They got my brother a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, frowning. “We’ve all lost so many people through all of this.”
“He saved us,” said Morgan. “If he hadn’t charged them, we wouldn’t have made it back into the cabin.”
“On the afternoon of the explosion,” said Sky, changing the subject, “I unlocked the trap door and started down the stairs. I looked down and saw something that took me by surprise. There was a pair of wolves standing at the edge of the trees.”
“I saw them, too,” said Morgan, smiling. “They were really beautiful.”
“They didn’t seem to be afraid of us,” said Sky, her eyes losing focus as she concentrated on her story. “They just seemed to be waiting for us.”
I thought about that while she paused. Odin had two wolves named Freki and Geri. Come to think of it, there had been two wolves with the Old man when he found me on the river bank. I frowned at the comparison, wondering if it had really all been a hallucination.
“Since they didn’t run off when they saw us, I assumed that they were hungry,” said Sky. “Wolves don’t usually behave like that unless they are really hungry.”
“They would walk into the trees and then come back out,” said Morgan. “It was really weird.”
“For some reason,” said Sky, “I had the strangest feeling that they wanted us to follow them. I can’t explain it.”
She didn’t have to explain it. I understood it completely. It was a sign.
“They led us down the trail towards the river,” said Morgan. “It was funny, but they would stop occasionally to make sure we were still back there, following them.”
“When we came out on the shore of the river,” said Sky, “we saw them standing beside you. They weren’t acting aggressive or dangerous. It was like they led us right to you.”
“I think they did,” I said, smiling.
“We thought that it was just our imaginations,” said Sky. “At least, we did. Once we approached you, they retreated to the edge of the woods and watched us.”
“You were unconscious,” said Morgan. “We could see that you had pulled what looked like a finger out of your eye. Your face was covered in blood and your legs were shredded.”
“We almost left you there,” said Sky, looking distant. “We started to head back towards the cabin, but the wolves wouldn’t let us leave. They blocked our path and growled at us.”
“But when we turned and went back to you, they stopped,” said Morgan.
“It was a sign,” said Sky. “The Great Spirit was telling us that you needed our help. Once we picked you up and headed back, they vanished.”
“Here’s the weird part,” said Morgan. “Once we got you back here and started cleaning you up, we saw the tattoo on your back. It was the same two wolves. The markings were identical.”
“That’s when I knew that the Great Spirit had something in mind for you,” said Sky. “It has taken all of my skills to break your fever. It will be just as hard to put you back together. You were really torn up.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”
“It’s been our pleasure,” said Morgan. “It’s nice to feel needed. We’ve been alone here since all of this started. After we lost Mike, we were sure that we would die here.”
“We’re not dead, yet,” said Sky. “But we can’t stay here forever.”
“How long can you last?” I asked.
“Game is pretty scarce,” said Sky. “The dead have run anything that I could hunt out of the area. I can get the occasional rabbit or squirrel, but that’s about it. We haven’t seen anything larger in quite some time.”
“We’ve got a lot of canned foods and a bunch of those pre-packed meals,” explained Morgan. “Nothing fancy, but its food.”
“We could
probably last a few more months on what we have,” said Sky. “Assuming we don’t find more supplies.”
“Not enough to get you through the winter,” I said, shaking my head. “What were you planning on doing?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Sky. “We don’t have many options. There isn’t anywhere else to go, as far as we know.”
“I know a place,” I said. “When I’m able to travel, I’ll take you there. If you want to go, that is.”
“That would be great,” said Morgan. “Is it very far away?”
“Three or four days hike,” I said, shrugging. “Less than a day, if we could find a working vehicle.”
“I think I’d prefer to take a car,” said Morgan. “Walking all that way with the dead everywhere doesn’t sound very safe.”
“Safer than sitting here waiting to starve,” said Sky. “I think it would be worth the risk.”
“Once I’ve healed enough to travel,” I promised, “we’ll head for our camp.”
“That might take a while,” said Sky. “I’m surprised that you survived the fever, to be honest.”
“How bad are my legs?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“They’re healing,” said Sky. “But the wounds are closing slower than they should. I clean them out twice a day, but they are still seeping fluid.”
That struck me as odd. I usually healed very quickly. The damage I took from the Stalker must have been very severe. If I fought the fever for nearly a week, then the wounds should have been closed and starting to heal by now. The fact that they were still oozing fluid was not a good sign. I only hoped that the wounds would heal, at all. If they wouldn’t heal, then I would have been better off pulling the trigger.
I took a mental inventory of myself. The wounds on my face had already healed. Despite being unconscious for the better part of a week, I didn’t smell like I needed a shower. That was good. I was still naked, but I kept my midsection covered with the blankets. No sense embarrassing all of us. I glance beneath the blankets and looked at the bandages. They were well done. Sky knew what she was doing when it came to binding wounds.
Ragnarok Rising Page 3