“You defeated Grimnir,” she said, softly.
“I don’t know if that killed him or not,” I replied, glancing at the water.
“Even if he lives,” she said, shrugging, “you still defeated him. You have proven yourself the better warrior. We should be together.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, frowning. “I already have a wife.”
“Then I will destroy her,” she said, her voice growing angry. “She does not deserve a warrior such as you. I will show you who should share your bed.”
“No,” I said, harshly. “I love my wife. I won’t let you hurt her. You’d have to kill me first.”
She withdrew her fingers from my face with a dark look on her brow. Anger flashed in her eyes and she took a step back from me as her hands strayed towards the hilts of her swords.
“Very well,” she said, her voice a husky hiss. “Have it your way.”
I started to reply, but stopped short when the sound of hundreds of Shriekers erupted from every direction. It echoed off of the buildings and reverberated through the heart of the ruined city. As the horrendous wail rolled off across the water, something happened that made my blood turn cold. Rising from both ends of the underground structure were scores of the dead.
The fire below must not have been as bad as I had originally thought, because the dead did not look to be badly burned. The sun was still high in the sky and the hazy light was more than enough for me to see just exactly which kind of dead were coming. I had expected to see Sprinters, but never thought I would see this. Taking tentative steps at first and then increasingly confident, it looked like an endless line of Stalkers were emerging into the light and not stopping.
“We were surprised by this new type of dead,” said Vigdis as she drew her blades. “They weren’t part of the original plan. Your government did us a favor by creating them for us. All we had to do was spread it.”
“Oh shit,” I said, my eyes growing wide.
Turning to run for the bike, I knew that once they were fully adapted to the light there would be no stopping them. The Hrimthurssar had found a way to spread them into the other types of the dead and took away their fear of the light.
“Run!” she roared. “Flee if you can! You won’t get far!”
I grabbed my pack from the bike and slung it over my shoulders as fast as I could. Slinging the M-4 over my neck, I jumped onto the bike and turned the key. When I hit the starter, the big engine roared to life like a tiger waiting for its prey. I was about to see if this bike could live up to its name.
“Sleipnir,” I said, both to the bike and for the benefit of the Gods. “Be swift!”
I pushed the bike up and off of the kickstand, then rapidly shifted into gear. Throttling up hard, I released the clutch and spun the big bike around to head away from the growing number of Stalkers behind me. All around me, I could see the dead emerging from the shattered ruin that was St. Louis, Missouri.
Straightening the bike, I shot away from the area and headed for the road that ran past the Arch and onto Interstate 44. It was going to be far too close for comfort as more and more of the dead emerged from buildings and side streets. Manhole covers began to burst forth and Stalkers began to pour out of the sewers. It was as if the very gates of Hel had opened and were spewing forth all of its fury.
Running through the gears with furious intensity, the big bike accelerated hard and seemed to be gliding through the obstacles as of its own accord. The massive cycle was perfectly balanced and reacted with only the slightest lean of my body. I shot through growing numbers of the dead and slalomed around abandoned cars. Interstate 44 grew steadily closer, but so did the dead.
I could feel the claws of the Stalkers as I shot past them and swerved around large groups. I knew I had to be bleeding from numerous cuts, but I couldn’t think of that now. I had to keep all of my concentration on the road or risk hitting one of the cars. If I did, all was lost. My life and the lives of the others depended on me getting through. They needed to know the Stalkers no longer feared the light. I had to get through.
Chapter Nineteen
Death’s Ride
“The Bugle sounds and the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins
The smell of acrid smoke and horses breath
As I plunge on into certain death.”
- From: The Trooper
- By: Iron Maiden
I was doing nearly eighty miles an hour when I hit the on-ramp to the interstate. I literally plowed through the last big knot of Stalkers to get there, swerving around and between cars with reckless abandon. It was fly or die. The dead behind me had to number in the tens of thousands. My only hope was that her control had a limited range. If she could control the dead no matter the range, then all was lost.
As I continued to accelerate down the interstate, I had to careen dangerously close to vehicles to maintain my speed. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road long enough to check my speed, but I knew I had to be going well over a hundred miles an hour. I was hurtling past cars with bare inches to spare. If I hit one at this speed, I would be torn to shreds. I didn’t dare slow down, though. The sheer numbers of the dead on both sides of the road was growing with each passing mile. She was calling them in for miles in every direction.
As I slipped around an overturned pickup truck, I saw where the Bison had entered the highway. The road was clear of obstructions, so I opened up the throttle all the way and felt the big bike surge with power. The massive V-8 engine had more horsepower than I had ever experienced on two wheels. Although it was a heavy bike, the big engine was designed for far heavier loads.
I briefly considered reaching for the radio that Marko had given me, but knew that I could never hear it at this speed. I couldn’t risk slowing down, either. I had to hope that I would soon reach the end of her range. The once sprawling metropolis of St. Louis now belonged fully to the dead. The Gods have mercy on anyone trapped alive in there, because I couldn’t have reached them without a helicopter and a lot of luck.
As I reached the Oakland exit, the dead were starting to pour out onto the road. Fortunately for me, they were mostly Shamblers and Shriekers by this point. I knew that there would be an endless line of Sprinters and Stalkers pursuing me, so I didn’t bother to look back. So long as I had clear road ahead of me, I knew I was gaining ground on the convoy.
I shot between countless outstretched hands and knew I didn’t dare slow down. Soon their numbers began to thin, and then recede from the road. By the time I rocketed past the intersection of Interstate 44 and Interstate 270, the numbers had dwindled to almost nothing. Once I was sure that they were no longer a significant threat on the sides of the road, I began to let off of the throttle.
Easing back on the speed, I glanced down and saw the needle descend below one hundred and fifty miles per hour. I felt my heart skip a beat at that thought. I had held on through force of will and by practically hugging the gas tank. As my speed dipped below one hundred, I sat up in the seat. The wind still tore at my face and clothes, but now it was bearable. It was beginning to sink in. I had survived.
On the outskirts of Eureka Missouri, I caught my first glimpse of the convoy. They had made much better time than I had expected. I smiled at the unexpected turn of good fortune. It was about time that luck was on our side. If we continued this pace, we would reach Bennett Springs by early evening. That was all the encouragement that I needed.
Giving the big bike a little more gas, I sped towards the back of the convoy at over eighty miles per hour. I had to throttle back and tap the brakes as I approached the rear vehicles. Slowing down to match their speed, I noted that they were doing a steady fifty miles per hour. From what I could see, Bergelmir had perfected the placement of the plow blade to maximize the spread of obstructions while minimizing the effort.
I edged out and began to pass the rear vehicle. It was the panel truck full of supplies. Inside, I saw that the guy named Pete was driving. I hadn’t had
much of a chance to talk to Pete, but from what I could tell he was a decent enough guy. He never complained about work and didn’t cause problems. That was good enough.
I gave him a thumbs-up as I passed him, which he returned. Then he grabbed his radio and began to talk animatedly into it. He was alerting the rest of the convoy that I had caught up to them. I knew that in the lead truck and the big bus, people would be looking to catch a glimpse of me as I caught up.
Butcher and his men were riding in the middle of the convoy. There were seven of them, three behind the bus and four ahead of it. As I came alongside the red-bearded Mackey, he reached out with his right fist and I bumped it with my left. He gave me a toothy grin and a nod as I edged past him and started around the big bus.
Faces appeared in the windows as I came along side. Near the front, I saw the smiling face of Christina Wilder. She waved at me with excited enthusiasm and I returned it with a smile and nod of appreciation. Richard Wilder was in the driver’s seat and waved as I slid in front of the bus. I gave a quick wave and started to pull alongside Butcher.
Butcher glanced at me and nodded once. Matching speed, I glanced around the area. To our right, I could see the abandoned remains of an amusement park that I had taken my family to so many times before. The flagpoles that held the flags that gave the park its name were still there, but the tattered remains of the flags were barely distinguishable. Instead of looking inviting as the park always had, now it served as an eerie reminder of all that was lost. Then a thought struck me that made me chuckle. The park had people that walked around in padded suits made to look like certain cartoon characters. Suddenly being chased by an undead version of a certain cartoon rabbit was almost more than I could take.
After the intensity of what I had just been through, it felt good to laugh. It felt good to be alive, which was more than I had any right to be after what I had just escaped from. No one was going to believe me when I told them the story. Hel, I wasn’t sure that I believed it and I was there. Maybe I would leave the part about surfing down the collapsing Arch out of the tale. Who was going to buy that, anyway? It was true, but nonetheless unbelievable.
As time moved on and we continued past cities alongside the highway, the dead only looked up as they heard us. I knew that we were safely outside Vigdis’ range of control. The occasional zombie found its way into the road and the Bison had no trouble at all knocking them flying out of the way.
Once we had passed Rolla Missouri, I began to relax. I knew that the next town of any size was going to be Lebanon and that was where we would exit the interstate. From there, it was just a matter of going through town and less than fifteen miles to Bennett Springs. I also knew that the road between Lebanon and Bennett Springs was mostly clear. We’d driven it with the Humvees and I knew it was passable. We were almost home free. At least, I thought that we were.
When the Bison began to slow down, we all had to adjust our speed or risk running into the back of it. I waved at the vehicles behind me to get their attention and let them know to change their speed. The last thing we needed was for the bus to run over the bikes, although that would have been ironic to be taken out that way.
When the brake lights on the Bison lit up and stayed on, I knew we had problems. They were coming to a stop. From my mental map of the area, I knew that we had to be getting close to the Army base at Fort Leonard Wood. Whatever had brought them to a halt must have been big, because nothing had even slowed the Bison down, until now. Coming to a full stop, I put down my kickstand and got off of the bike and let it idle just in case I had to get back on in a hurry. It was time to find out what was going on.
I walked around behind the Bison to find Bergelmir was already getting out of the door. Beyond him, I could see why he had stopped. Up ahead was an obstruction like nothing we had encountered before. Someone had used heavy equipment to move concrete barriers all the way across the highway, the median and both off-ramps. Behind that, they had piled cars into an improvised wall that completely prevented us from going either through or around. The roadblock had sealed this road completely.
“What the fuck?” said Butcher, coming up next to me and removing his sunglasses.
“It appears we must find another path,” said Bergelmir.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” muttered Butcher.
Bergelmir just gave him a dark look, but said nothing. I gave Butcher a brief smile, but shook my head.
“Sorry, Big Blue,” said Butcher. “No offense, man.”
“None taken,” rumbled Bergelmir.
I began to notice there were corpses lying in the grass alongside the road and near the makeshift wall. They were all desiccated, like they had been there for a while. At least I didn’t see any fresh looking ones. Upon closer examination, I could see that all of the ones close to us had been shot in the head.
“Check this out,” I said, pointing at the bullet hole in the forehead of the one I was kneeling beside.
“Gunshot,” said Butcher.
“Seen a few of those in your day?” asked Marko as he knelt down next to me.
“One or two,” said Butcher, grinning wickedly.
“Someone took these things out,” I said. “I’m guessing from behind that barrier.”
“Good guess,” said Marko. “How recently?”
“The freshest one I see is at least a few weeks old,” I replied. “Maybe more.”
“The Army?” asked Butcher. “That army base is just down that road.”
He was pointing to our left and over the embankment.
“Hard to say,” I said. “Could be. The shots are precise enough. I can’t tell what caliber it is, though.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Marko.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” I said, grinning.
Reaching for the handle of my M-4, I checked the load and flicked off the safety. Bringing the weapon up to my shoulder, I kept the barrel aimed down but towards the barrier.
“Cover me,” I said over my shoulder.
I could hear movement behind me as both Marko and Butcher took up firing positions to cover my advance. Farther behind them, I heard the actions of other weapons as the rest of the outriders did the same. I felt better knowing that I would be approaching the barrier with at least eight rifles covering my back. When I heard the door to the Bison slam, I had to stop and glance back.
Bergelmir was advancing towards me carrying an M-249 machine gun like I would carry a pistol. The belt was in the side mounted box and I could see he had a rucksack slung over his shoulder. It looked like it might have been weighed down enough for a few more boxes of belted ammo. He looked ready for anything.
“I am with you, my friend,” he said, nodding.
“Alright,” I said, nodding. “Stay alert.”
We continued on towards the barrier with our weapons ready. I brought my weapon into firing position, but kept watching for any signs of movement. I half expected to be either fired on or challenged for a password. When neither happened, I nodded at Bergelmir and lowered my weapon. Letting it hang by the strap, I climbed up onto the concrete barrier and then onto the cars.
Behind the barrier, there were more bodies of what had obviously been undead, plus several bodies that were wearing the unmistakable remains of digital camouflage uniforms. Scattered around the area was a large amount of expended brass casings from what looked like M-4’s or M-16’s. There were even several discarded weapons lying on the ground. Whoever had been behind this barricade had left in a hurry.
“Looks like there was one Hel of a firefight back here,” I called over my shoulder. “Looks like military to me.”
“What do we do now?” called Butcher. “Is there a way around this thing?”
“Hang on,” I called back. “I want to check something out. I’ll be right back.”
Before they could argue, I jumped down on the other side and started poking around. I could hear the sound of Bergelmir following me over and
smiled. Trusting him to watch my back, I knelt down and picked up one of the discarded weapons. It was an M-4 with the bolt locked back and an empty magazine in the well.
Dropping the magazine, I hit the bolt release and heard it slap forward. Then I pulled the charging handle and the action worked without sticking. I flipped the weapon onto its side and looked at the selector lever. It indicated both semi and auto positions. It was definitely a military grade weapon.
“Army issue,” I muttered. “Action is still smooth. This thing hasn’t been here all that long. Otherwise the weather would have had it locked up tight.”
“So there were other survivors here very recently,” replied Bergelmir.
“So it would seem,” I said.
Checking the bodies of the fallen soldiers, I managed to scrounge a few extra magazines that were still loaded, as well as some items of gear. I found several empty magazines on the ground along with eight discarded weapons. I tucked the magazines into my pack and began setting the weapons and other gear on top of the barrier.
Two of Butcher’s men arrived and started picking up the equipment and taking it back to the convoy. Once I was satisfied that there was no more gear to be had, I climbed back on top of the barrier and looked back towards the others. Bergelmir followed along with me, keeping a nervous eye trained in the direction of the army base.
Just as I was about to jump down and head back, I noticed something in the grass that caught my eye. Several of the dead were missing legs or had been mangled horribly. There were also torn up sections of ground close to them. Alarm bells began to ring in my head as I realized what I was looking at. Waving my arms frantically at the others to get their attention, I reached for my pack and dug out my radio. Turning it on, I hit the transmit button.
“Do not, I repeat, DO NOT get off the road and into the grass!” I called.
“Why?” responded Marko.
Ragnarok Rising Page 37