As the Stalkers began to circle us, searching for an opening, I lost sight of the Amazon and Grimnir. They had vanished into the shadows at the back of the stadium, leaving us to deal with the unleashed fury of the beasts that surrounded us. If we survived this, I knew that we had not seen the last of either of them. Next time, they were not going to be so fortunate.
The Stalkers crouched as one and prepared to launch their attack. It was going to come all at once. I was afraid of that, but not really surprised. We were going to take as many of them down with us as we possibly could. I couldn’t help but wonder if the others had time to escape or not. I figured that we would never know.
Just as they were about to leap, gunshots rang out from the darkness. I could see the Stalkers twisting as they were hit multiple times from bullets. One went down when the side of its head flew apart from the impact of a high-velocity projectile. A second one stumbled forward and was instantly struck down by a lightning fast blow from Bergelmir. The remaining two launched directly at me with frightening speed.
I stepped to the side and sliced through the neck of the first one as it flew past me, but the second one bore me to the ground. I managed to shove the hilt of my sword into its mouth, narrowly avoiding being bit on the face. I could still feel its claws scoring deep slashes across my chest and arms. Blood began to flow and I could smell the coppery scent heavy in the air. The smell of fresh blood sent the creature into a frenzy.
Before it could do any more damage, I saw big hands grab it by the head and dig the fingers into the flesh beneath the jaw. Bergelmir hauled the creature off of me and forced it onto the ground. Placing his huge foot in the middle of the thing’s back, he grunted and began to pull. At first, nothing happened but the hissing and thrashing of the beast. Then I heard a crackling followed by a wet tearing sound.
With a battle-cry that rose to the heavens, Bergelmir roared in fury and stood up. The creature’s head came away from its body in a ragged meaty spray of blood and bone. The body slumped to the ground and stopped moving. The mouth continued to open and close while the eyes moved back and forth.
With a bellow of triumph, Bergelmir tossed the head into the grass before stumbling backwards from the body of the beast. His torso, arms and legs were lined with cuts, scratches and wounds of various sizes. He was also covered in his own bluish blood. He had stayed on his feet despite a tremendous amount of damage suffered in this fight. It was absolutely epic.
He looked at me and nodded once, his face a mask of grim determination.
“This was a good battle,” he rumbled, smiling thinly.
“The stuff of legends,” I agreed, returning the smile.
With an acknowledging nod, he raised his fist into the air. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed over onto his back. I could see he was breathing heavily, but steadily. He would live. I stumbled two steps towards him before my strength began to fail, as well. I fell onto my back in the wet grass and looked up into the hazy night sky. I marveled that the ragged craters on the moon resembled a crude Thor’s Hammer. It’s funny that I never noticed it before then.
As my vision began to fade, my head lolled to the side and I could see figures approaching. They were carrying weapons and aiming towards the Stalkers, making sure that they were all down for the count. The first two to reach me were Butcher and Marko. Butcher looked around in shocked disbelief at the carnage that surrounded us, but Marko knelt down beside me and put his hand on my shoulder.
“We couldn’t let you have all the fun,” he said, smiling reassuringly.
I tried to think of a good come-back, but nothing came to mind. Then the darkness closed in and I was out.
Chapter Sixteen
The Chosen Ones
“Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men.”
- John F. Kennedy
I awoke with the sun in my eyes. It was filtering in through the window of one of the skyboxes. I was lying on one of the big couches with a blanket over my legs. My chest was wrapped in bandages and I had a thick, coppery taste in my mouth. Other than feeling like I had been beaten from head to toe with a golf club, I felt remarkably intact.
As my vision began to clear, I could see Bergelmir was stretched out on the floor. They had made him a bed out of pillows from the other furniture and team blankets. He was too big to be on one of the couches. Although similarly bandaged, he was snoring loudly. Despite our wounds, it appeared that both of us were going to recover.
I tried to sit up, but the room spun and I had to lie back down. My stomach heaved, but thankfully didn’t decide to empty itself all over the place. Putting my hand to my forehead, I groaned as I fought to control the dizziness. With my eye closed it began to subside slowly, but I still felt weak. It wasn’t as bad as when I had been bitten by the Stalkers, but it was bad enough. I guess even the claws could make you sick.
“That’ll teach you to try to sit up so quickly,” chided a voice.
I slowly opened my eyes to find Christina Wilder standing over me with her hands on her hips. With the sunlight behind her, she was the spitting image of her daughter. Those all-too familiar ice blue eyes sparkled with mischief. I could definitely see where her daughter came by her personality.
“I’m not a very good patient,” I said, still shielding my eye. “Sorry, but I hate being stuck here when I know there’s work to be done.”
“I am learning that about you, Mr. Grant,” she replied, chuckling.
“Wylie, please,” I said, slowly moving my hand away from my face. “How’s Bergelmir.”
“So that’s his name,” she said, glancing at the snoring form on the other side of the room.
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “If he hadn’t helped me, there’s no way that I could have survived.”
“That’s what Mr. Rainer said, as well,” she replied. “I think that he’ll be alright. I’ve never seen someone quite like him. Did you notice that he’s blue?”
“Yes, I did,” I said, slowly getting up on my elbow. “I’m not sure if I could explain that or not.”
“No need,” she answered. “Since this all started, it’s not the strangest thing I’ve seen.”
“Me either,” I agreed. “Where is everyone else?”
“Well, they’ve been busy while you’ve been out,” she said, frowning.
“How long was I out?”
“The fight was three nights ago,” she said, shaking her head. “From the damage you took, I would have thought that it would take you a lot longer to heal.”
“I heal quickly,” I replied, forcing myself to a sitting position.
“You really should take it easy,” she cautioned. “You were burning up with fever last night.”
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
Slowly, I swung my legs off of the couch and onto the floor. The spinning and dizziness were tolerable, so I started looking for my clothes. I was wearing only my underwear and bandages. Unfortunately, there were a lot of the latter. From the condition of them, I could tell that they had been changed fairly often. They were all clean and I couldn’t see where there was any blood showing through on any of them.
“I need to get dressed and back to work,” I said, stretching my sore muscles.
“There’s no rush,” she said, watching me closely.
“Actually,” I replied gravely, “time is a luxury that we don’t really have. If I’m right, we’re in for some very cold weather in the very near future. We need to be on our way to my people as soon as possible.”
“Does it have anything to do with the comets that struck the moon a few nights ago?” she asked, suddenly concerned.
“Yes,” I said, “the debris field will block out the sun. It’s just a matter of time before things start to get colder, then they will freeze.”
“Oh dear,” she said, quietly. “That’s not good.”
I located my clothing, along with my gear, on a counter behind me. I got unsteadily to m
y feet and waved Mrs. Wilder off when she tried to help me. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate the help, but I needed to do it on my own. If I couldn’t walk without help, then I wasn’t going to be anything but a liability to everyone else. I am many things, but a liability was not going to be one of them.
As the disorientation began to subside, I was able to move without as much effort. By the time I had gotten dressed and began checking my weapons, I was feeling good enough to travel. I knew I wasn’t anywhere near the top of my game, but at least I was back in it. Despite a lingering headache and nausea, I was ready to get back to work. Time was critical for us and I needed to get things organized for the move.
As I began to reload and replace all of my weapons, my hands grew steadier and I felt some strength returning to them. With the returning strength came a return of my confidence, as well. I felt better just putting my gear back on. I hadn’t realized it before, but the weight of it was comforting. I felt safer having my weapons on, than I did when I was unarmed. My wife used to tease me about how I couldn’t let my guard down after years as a CO, but life during the zombie apocalypse had only heightened that awareness. Somehow, I wasn’t sure how it felt to truly let my guard down anymore.
I realized that Ms. Wilder was staring at me with a concerned look on her face and it dawned on me that I wasn’t wearing my eye patch. The empty socket was more than a little disconcerting when you looked at it. It didn’t really bother me anymore, but I could tell that it bothered her. Shrugging, I reached over and picked up my eye patch and Thor’s Hammer. I slipped the hammer around my neck, and then began adjusting the eye patch.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, tightening the strap on my head. “I forget to put that thing on all the time.”
“Oh,” she answered, surprised. “Don’t be sorry. I didn’t mean to be staring, but I’ve never seen someone with so many scars before. How did you get all of those?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, smiling gently. “Most of them happened after the dead returned. A couple of months ago, I was captured and tortured by a group called the Freemen. They did most of them.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “How did you escape?”
“Your daughter led a team in to get me,” I replied. “She’s saved my ass more times than I care to count.”
“Really?” she asked, smiling.
“Really,” I assured her. “Spec….uh, sorry. I mean, Chrissy is as tough as they come.”
“What were you about to call her?” she asked, grinning.
“Spec-4,” I said, sheepishly. “I know it was her rank in the Army, but before I got to know her by name that was what I was calling her at least in my own head. By the time we had gotten to know each other, it was stuck. I tend to nickname people.”
“Are you two close?” she asked, giving me a stern look.
I understood the unspoken question. She was being protective of her daughter. I couldn’t blame her for that. Although we had come close to it a few times, my relationship with Spec-4 was as a friend. I was fairly sure that she would have liked it to have been more than that, but I couldn’t betray my wife. It was complicated, but I wasn’t sure that I could explain it to her mother without sounding bad.
“I’m married,” I explained, smiling. “Chrissy and I are close friends, but nothing more.”
“Oh, alright,” she said, seeming somewhat relieved.
“You know,” I said, grinning. “Don’t let the white hair fool you. I’m not as old as you think. My hair turned white when I was bit by one of the Stalkers. The strain of my recovery pushed my system to the breaking point. It’s a miracle I survived, at all.”
“I didn’t mean…,” she started to say, but I began laughing and cut her off.
She stopped with an embarrassed look on her face, and then started to laugh as well. Soon we were both laughing to the point of tears. The absurdity of the conversation against the backdrop of the world coming to an end was more than ironic. For just a moment, I felt almost normal. I didn’t realize that I missed feeling that way. Oh well, it was something that I would have to reflect on another time. Right now, I had work to do.
“I’d better get going,” I said, slipping into my pack.
“Don’t overdo it,” she cautioned, giving me a stern look. “You can re-injure yourself if you aren’t careful.”
“I’ll be alright,” I assured her.
I gave a final glance at Bergelmir before heading out the door. I could feel her eyes on my back, watching me go. She was too much like her daughter for my own good. Just like Spec-4, she seemed to be able to see right through me. Shaking my head, I tried to get my mind on other things.
By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I had my game face on. I was running through scenarios for how we would get back to Bennett Springs without getting killed by, the Gods only knew how many, zombies between here and there. What we needed was something with some muscle to plow our way through obstacles. What we needed was a battering ram.
From the bottom of the stairs, I could hear the sounds of voices talking excitedly. Following the noise, I found myself standing at the entrance leading up onto the field. I could see people standing around near the top of the ramp, gathered around something. I headed up there and caught the tail end of their conversation.
“…then cover it with steel plating,” said one of Butcher’s men.
“Nah,” said Butcher. “Steel plating don’t mean shit if we can’t get the fucking thing to run right.”
“What thing?” I asked, joining them.
“Hey,” said Butcher, grinning and slapping me on the shoulder. “Look who finally decided to wake up. Glad to see you’re up and about.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “What thing?”
“We found a snow plow, but it runs like shit,” he explained. “We managed to get it back here, but it won’t make it very far without some major repair work.”
“What else did you find?” I asked, hoping for some good news.
“We’ve been busy,” said Butcher, grinning wickedly. “Come on.”
He headed out towards the ball field and I followed along beside him. As the shadows of the tunnel gave way to direct sunlight, I blinked a few times to get used to the glare. There, before my eye, was a treasure trove of vehicles. There were about a dozen large motorcycles of varying color. Most of them looked to be big Harley Davidson road bikes. One in particular leaped out and got my attention.
It was bigger than the others around it and had a midnight blue paint job with lightning bolts on the oversized tank. What really stood out about it was the engine. Instead of a V-twin engine on a normal bike, this one had a V-8 car engine on it. I recognized it from pictures and from a couple of bike shows that I had been to. It was called a Boss Hoss. I knew instantly that it was going to be mine.
“Who gets the Boss Hoss?” I asked, smiling broadly.
“I thought you might like that,” said Butcher, clapping me on the back. “I brought it back here intending it keep it for myself, but I think you should take it. The symbolism fits.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, turning towards him.
“Well, Odin rides Sleipnir the eight legged horse,” he said, chuckling. “You’ve only got one eye and it only seems logical that you would get the eight-cylindered bike.”
“Smartass,” I muttered and headed for the big bike.
It looked even better close up. The chrome gleamed and the paint job was flawless. Wherever they had gotten it, I doubted that it had been setting out in the elements for the last few months. No, this had to have been inside a garage or warehouse. I had the strangest feeling that it had been waiting for me, all this time. Call it hubris, if you will, but it just felt like it belonged to me. I can’t really explain the feeling.
“Where did you find this?” I asked, a touch of awe in my voice.
“We found most of them in a bike shop not all that far from here,” he explained. “We’ve raided it before, but this tim
e we took a trailer and the big truck.”
“What big truck?” I asked, turning to look at him.
“Over there,” he said, gesturing. “It’s big, but we can’t use it for anything but cargo.”
I turned to look where he was pointing and had to smile. Parked near the visiting team dugout was a massive pick-up truck. Although it had an extended cab, I could see why he thought it was only good for cargo. The massive behemoth had duel rear tires and a roll-bar in the bed. This truck was meant for pulling heavy loads. It was a goliath of vehicles made by the Ford Motor Company. It was a gleaming black Ford F-650 Super Duty.
Instantly, a thought leapt into my head and a smile began to creep onto my face. I had just found our battering ram. This beastie would have very little trouble knocking aside any obstacles smaller than a semi-truck. It wasn’t going to need much in the way of modification, either. We would have to armor the windows and do a little engineering of our own if it was going to work. I had a good feeling that it was going to work just fine.
“Why don’t we take the plow blade off of that snow plow and put it on there,” I said, pointing at the big truck. “It’s a four by four, so it shouldn’t have any trouble handling it.”
“That just might work,” said Butcher, nodding. “If we can get that on there, we can use it to clear the roads for the bikes.”
“We’ll also need a large transport vehicle for the others,” I added. “Not everyone can ride on the bikes.”
“True,” he said. “I think I know just the vehicle. There’s a tour bus parked not too far from here.”
“Let’s get it inside the walls and check it out,” I said. “If it’s sound, we’ll load all our people and gear on it, then get the Hel out of here.”
“We’ve also raided a few other places, too,” he said, nodding towards the big box trailer parked behind the F-650. “We’ve got food, bottled water and ammo in there. Enough to last us a while, I think. We found a National Guard supply staging area.”
“Good work,” I said, nodding. “We’re going to need it all before this is over.”
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