Ragnarok Rising

by D. A. Roberts

  As he brought the AK around, I grabbed the weapon by the top of the barrel, pushing it down and away from me. As I stepped inside his reach, I brought the sword up and drove it through his midsection, right above the navel. It sank to the hilt, emerging from between his shoulder blades. I held him there with blood coming out of his mouth as the realization that he was as good as dead solidified in his mind.

  I yanked the AK out of his grasp and tossed it aside. Then I grabbed him by the throat with my free hand. Our gazes locked and I peered into his emptiness. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to say something but no words came out. I cocked my head to one side and studied him for a moment longer before the light began to fade from his eyes.

  Twisting the sword violently, I let go of his throat and spun to my left as I yanked the sword free from his abdomen. It came loose in a rush of blood and intestine as I swung around and beheaded him before he could fall. Blood erupted high into the air as his head fell away from his body before crumpling lifelessly to the ground.

  I stood immobile, my own blood singing in my veins. It took me several deep breaths to release the berserk rage that had been coursing through my body. Blood dripped off of my sword as I held it with the tip pointed towards the ground. In that second, I could hear the individual drops as they hit the dirt. I could feel the cool air as it gently wafted across my skin. I could smell the metallic odor of the blood and it felt intoxicating. I had to fight to control the rage.

  After a long moment, I turned to look at Sky. She stood staring at me with her mouth agape and shock in her eyes. I could see the carnage reflected in those dark orbs as she took in the scene. Before she could speak, Morgan stepped out of the bushes holding her pistol in shaking hands. She looked absolutely terrified.

  "What the hell was that?!" demanded Morgan. "You killed all of them in like…like three seconds."

  I knew that had to be an exaggeration, but I doubted that it was by very much. From decision to act to the beheading had to be less than ten seconds, tops. Even I was shocked by the ferocity and speed of the violence that I had unleashed. Battle-lust is what they used to call it. Whatever name you choose, it was more than a little frightening. At the same time, it was more than a little exhilarating, too.

  Walking over to the river, I began to clean the blood from my sword. Once that was finished, I carefully dried it then applied a light layer of gun-oil before returning it to my scabbard. Then I set about collecting my weapons. Once I had recovered my own, I checked over the weapons that the three morons had been carrying. The shotgun was a cut-down Mossberg and the AK-47 was a standard civilian model that fired on semi-automatic only. Those would be useful, but it was the pistol that interested me.

  I picked it up and began to examine it closely. It was large caliber and had grooves cut into the end of the barrel. It took me a moment to recall the type of weapon that I was holding. I've always been an avid gun collector and read all types of literature on the subject. I was holding a Smith and Wesson Model 460 XVR. The XVR stood for X-treme Velocity Revolver and I had read quite a bit about them. Supposedly designed as a hunting pistol, it was massively overpowered. Although it was only a five round revolver, it was fairly versatile in what types of ammo it could feasibly shoot.

  It was capable of shooting the .460 S&W Magnum round, the .454 Casull round and the .45 Long Colt. As luck would have it, I had ammo for that. I had quite a bit of ammo for my much lamented Colt that I had left on the dam. I only hoped that Spec-4 had picked it up. I didn't want to think about the old girl left to rust on the ground.

  The XVR was an expensive pistol. I had to wonder where those meth-heads had found it. I checked their bodies closely. There were only about 20 rounds of ammo for the XVR, and it was all the .460 S&W Magnum hollow points. There was another dozen of assorted 12 gauge ammo for the shotgun, not counting the six that was in the weapon. The AK had a fully loaded magazine in the weapon and Red had two additional loaded magazines in his back pocket. None of them were carrying a backpack or any other supplies. That could only mean that they were either complete morons, or they had a camp nearby. I was going to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that there was a camp.

  Sky and Morgan hadn't said anything for quite some time. By the time I had gathered up all of the weapons and ammo, they were speaking together in hushed tones. They fell silent as I approached them and looked nervously at me carrying all of the weapons. I was beginning to think that they were changing their minds about coming with me and were planning on returning to the cabin. I'm not sure I would blame them if they did.

  "Is everything OK?" I asked, placing the weapons on a rock.

  "We're fine," said Sky. "We were just a little shocked at what happened. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

  "It's a long story," I explained, shaking my head.

  "I'm glad he's on our side," said Morgan.

  "I want you to each take one of these guns," I said, gesturing at the pile. "I'm claiming the pistol, though. I doubt either of you would like the recoil on it."

  I picked up the XVR and lowered the hammer onto the chamber. Then I checked the load. It was ready to roll and seemed like it was in decent shape. I would guess that they hadn't fired it very much. I figured that it had some seriously heavy recoil. I checked the holster for my missing Colt and it fit, albeit a touch snugly. It felt good to have the weight of a big weapon back in that holster.

  "I figure they must have a camp nearby," I said, gesturing at the three bodies on the ground.

  "Makes sense," said Sky. "They aren't carrying any supplies, other than their guns."

  "We should look for their camp," I said. "They might have some gear we can use."

  "Maybe they have a vehicle," said Morgan.

  "What if there are more of them?" asked Sky.

  "Then I'm sure that shotgun blast already warned them that something was wrong," I said. "We can either go see what we're up against or watch our backs in case they track us. I, for one, don't like having to watch over my shoulder all the time."

  "I suppose we could sneak closer and take a look," said Sky. "If there are too many of them, we can always leave."

  With that, Sky picked up the AK-47 and checked it over. Then she picked up the two extra magazines and stuck them in her jacket pocket. Morgan looked at the shotgun like it was going to bite her, but reluctantly reached for it. She placed the loose shells in her pockets and then looked over the shotgun with confusion clearly etched on her face.

  "Let me show you how this thing works," I said, gently taking it from her.

  I took a few moments to show her how the action worked, where the safety was and how to load it properly. Since the barrel had been sawed off, aiming it was almost a moot point. It was now what the old-timers used to refer to as a scatter gun. It limited the range, but widely increased the spread pattern of the shot. Depending on the type of shot loaded, it could literally shred a person or simply cut them in half. It would make it easy for her to aim, but you really didn't want her behind you with it, either.

  "Keep the safety on and your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot something," I cautioned. "This thing will do massive damage to whatever you hit."

  "Got it," she assured me.

  Once that was accomplished, we headed down a trail that led off deeper into the woods. We proceeded quietly and stayed alert for anyone that might be coming towards us from farther down the trail. After about fifteen minutes, I was beginning to smell a campfire. I motioned for the women to stop and knelt down in the damp soil. I wanted to listen for any sounds of activity that might be carried on the wind. I waited several moments before deciding to press on.

  I began creeping forward; sticking to the trees and hoping the other two would follow my lead. Sky was as silent as a fox on the hunt, but Morgan possessed no woodscraft skills. It almost seemed that she was cracking every stick and twig she could find, on purpose. I knew she wasn't really, but it certainly seemed that way from the am
ount of noise that she was making. Honestly, it couldn't have been that loud, but the sound of a cracking branch in the woods seems to carry a long ways.

  After a few minutes of that, I gave up and moved us back out onto the trail. We might be more visible there, but at least we were quieter. Sky just gave me a thin smile and an approving nod. With a resigned sigh, I pressed on. I could tell by the smell that we were getting closer. Soon we began to see glimpses of a building through the trees. It looked like a small farmhouse with three outbuildings that were surrounded by an eight foot chain-link fence. One of the outbuildings was small and I guessed it was a well house. The second was slightly bigger and was either a tool shed or unattached garage. The third was a large open-sided pole barn. I could also see the river on the far side of the house, about fifty yards from the barn.

  "What is it?" whispered Morgan.

  "Farmhouse," I replied, softly. "I don't see any movement, but they might be inside."

  "Want me to take a closer look?" asked Sky.

  I knew how quiet she was and she seemed to know what she was doing. I could go instead and leave them both here or cover her as she crept closer. Either way, there was an element of risk. Better to trust her and be able to provide cover fire for her escape than to get into a firefight and have to try to get back to them.

  "Go for it," I said, gesturing towards the house. "Don't get too close and don't get caught."

  "No problem," she said, grinning. "I'll make an owl call if there's trouble and a whippoorwill if it's all clear."

  I nodded agreement and she headed off, blending into the trees with an ease that I would like to be able to duplicate. Her woodscraft skills were impressive. I would guess that she was a good hunter, too. I waited a few moments for her to slip away before moving slowly forward to get a better vantage point, just in case. Morgan followed behind me, looking worried. I knew it was for Sky, not for herself. I knew that they were close.

  I swept the house and the outbuildings with my ACOG, looking for any sign of movement. I didn't see so much as a dog moving around. I also didn't see any sign of Sky, which was good. If I couldn't see her, then whoever was down there couldn't see her, either.

  “So far, so good,” I whispered.

  After what felt like eternity, I heard the distinct sound of a whippoorwill call. Sky was telling us it was safe to approach. I glanced back at Morgan and could see the relief clearly on her face. Giving her my best reassuring smile, which probably wasn't all that reassuring considering the eye patch and the scars, I headed cautiously down the hill towards the farmhouse.

  Morgan fell into step behind me and we approached the back of the property, near the well house. Just as we were emerging from the trees, I saw Sky step out of the tree line on the far side of the house, near the back of the barn. She didn't look at all at ease. In fact, she looked like something was definitely wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck were beginning to stand up.

  As Morgan and I approached the fence, I could see that Sky was making her way around the fence to rendezvous with us. I could only see two gates that led inside the fenced area. One was a large vehicle gate at the front of the property and the other was a smaller gate, about six feet wide, at the back of the fence leading off into the trees.

  I noticed that Sky wasn’t lowering her weapon and I took that to be a good indicator and kept my weapon ready, as well. We met up near the large vehicle gate and found it was latched with a heavy-duty chain and padlock. I initially considered shooting it, but doubted that anything I had short of the Beowulf would even put a dent in it. I hated to use anything that big, because the sound would travel a long ways. One of the three idiots that I had killed must have had the key.

  “Well,” I said, hesitating, “we can try to smash our way through or we can check the other gate.”

  “I don’t think the other gate is locked,” said Sky, still looking nervous.

  “What’s bothering you?” I asked.

  “Something about this place just feels wrong,” she said. “I can’t explain it.”

  “And you don’t have to,” I replied. “Your feeling is good enough for me.”

  Even Morgan was beginning to look a little uneasy. As we headed around towards the back of the fence, I began to smell something on the air. Two distinct smells, actually. One was definitely chemical in nature. It was either ether or anhydrous ammonia. That fit with the theory that they were “cooking” meth. The other was the unmistakable odor of decay. Somewhere close by, there was something dead. A tight knot began to form in the pit of my stomach.

  The closer we got to the back of the property, the stronger the chemical smell became and the weaker the smell of death. It was slightly confusing, but I intended to find out just what the Hel was going on. By the time that we had reached the back gate, the smell of the chemicals was nearly overpowering. Whatever the fuck it was, it was getting stronger the closer we got to the wooden shed. I had the sneaking suspicion that the answers would be found inside.

  When we reached the back gate, I discovered that Sky had been correct. There was a heavy chain with a padlock, but it wasn’t locking the gate shut. It was hanging loosely from the post. Reluctantly, I unlatched the gate and stepped inside. Once we were all through the gate, I latched it and wrapped the chain though the chain-link, just in case any curious dead wandered by and tried to get inside. It would at least slow them down.

  Turning back towards the shed, I brought my weapon back up and approached the doors slowly and with growing concern. The smell seemed to be oozing from every board and nail of the building. I needed to verify my suspicions before I could be absolutely certain. The door to the shed was not locked, but had a simple latch to keep it from opening. Whatever was inside, they must have been relying on the security of the fence to keep it safe. The trail in the grass that led to the shed told me that they were in there frequently.

  Activating my tactical light on my M-4, I motioned for the others to stay back as I reached for the handle. Cautiously, I unlatched the door and swung it open. It opened outward without any effort. The smell of chemicals that washed over me nearly made me retch and made the skin of my scalp feel like it had just been jabbed with a thousand tiny needles. I’d felt that sensation before. It was definitely anhydrous ammonia.

  My light lit up the interior of the small building without any problems, revealing what I had been dreading the entire time. I was looking at a fully-functional meth lab. There were even propane tanks, large boxes of supplies and plastic containers to hold the meth when it was finished. Numerous containers were already full with the white granulated powder that was the product of the nefarious lab.

  Without further encouragement, I gently shut the door and backed away. I didn’t want to even breathe too hard in that direction. The smell alone was hazardous to your health, but the interior was deadly. Going inside without proper equipment could overpower and kill you in a very short amount of time. But that wasn’t the worst of it. One spark and the entire place would rain down in tiny pieces over this part of the state. Meth labs could explode with little to no warning, taking huge chunks of real estate with them.

  “Do NOT go in there,” I said, as I rejoined the others. “One misstep and you would be a fine red mist drifting on the wind.”

  “Is it booby trapped?” asked Morgan, her eyes wide open in surprise.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head, slowly. “The entire building is full of chemicals that can kill you in several different ways. That place could blow itself into orbit.”

  “Let’s not be here when it does,” said Sky, still looking around nervously.

  I had the same feeling that she did, that this was only the beginning of the dark secrets that this place held. Something in my gut told me that I wasn’t going to like what I found, but my own innate curiosity wouldn’t let me just walk away. I had to know what the Hel was going on in this place. I also wanted to see if there would be anything useful that we could take with us on our trip. A worki
ng vehicle was at the top of my list, but there didn’t seem to be any sign of one, at least not in the immediate area.

  As we moved back towards the other buildings, I glanced inside the pole barn. Hanging from nails on the sides of the wooden beams were numerous yard tools. None of them would be particularly useful, but I was hoping to spot a good sledge hammer, a pickaxe or an axe. Any of them would make a useful tool as well as a decent improvised weapon, especially the sledge hammer. I could use it for smashing down doors, breaking locks or crushing skulls. It was the original multi-tool.

  Approaching the back of the house, I transitioned from my M-4 to my PMR-30 pistol. I activated the tactical light under the barrel and checked the load. It was hot and ready to go. Flicking the safety off, I reached for the door handle on the back door. As soon as I swung open the door, the smell of death and rot became nearly suffocating. I couldn’t see how anyone could go inside for any length of time, let alone stay in there. They had to have been living inside with that smell, because I doubted that they slept in the barn. Well, considering the amount of meth I had seen, I doubted that they slept much at all.

  Panning the light around the first room I saw, I could tell that this was the kitchen area. Piles and piles of dirty dishes, trash and other debris littered the counter, the table and the floor. There was only a trail that led between the junk and deeper into the rest of the house. I realized that if I encountered heavy resistance inside the confines of this rat-hole, then I was going to have a lot of difficulty getting us all back out the way we came. The painful realization dawned on me that despite the obvious danger, it was going to be safer to go alone. As First Sergeant Gregory would say, “I don’t have to like it. I just have to do it.”

  “You two wait out here,” I whispered over my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Fine by me,” said Morgan, heading back off of the porch and into the yard.

  “It’s too dangerous to go alone,” said Sky, firmly.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Besides that, the way out is so narrow, we’d run over each other if we have to get out in a hurry.”