Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga)

by D. A. Roberts

  With that, we all started checking around the house. Southard rifled through the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen while I checked the nightstands in the bedrooms. Spec-4 found a key hook next to the back door, with several sets of keys on it.

  “I think I found something,” she said, pointing it out.

  Southard and I both joined her at the back door to take a look. There was a small heart-shaped board with hooks screwed into it. There were several sets of keys hanging on it.

  “Which one is it?” she asked.

  “Let me see,” I said.

  Having owned a Ford several times in my life, I quickly spotted the one key-ring with a Ford key on it.

  “It has to be this one,” I said, taking it off the hook. “If this one doesn’t work, then I don’t know where the key is. This is the only key that fits a Ford.”

  I tossed the key to Southard, who headed out into the garage. The door was unlocked, so he opened it and stuck the key in the ignition. He turned it to accessory, so that it wouldn’t make noise. It worked like a charm. He came back in to the kitchen, smiling from ear to ear.

  “We’re in business,” he said.

  “Good,” I said. “Let’s load up everything we can. The Bronco has a pretty big cargo area in the back. Take all the guns, ammo and MRE’s. If we have any room left, grab the rucksacks and fatigues.”

  “There’s no way we can get all of the MRE’s, the ammo and the clothes,” said Southard. “We need to prioritize what we want versus what we need,” said Spec-4.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Sorry, it must be the head. Concentrate on guns, ammo and clothes. We have plenty of food and MRE’s at the jail. We can always come back for them, later.”

  We reloaded all of the confiscated guns and stuck them into one of our range bags. Those went into the front floorboard. Then while Southard and I loaded the Bronco, Spec-4 reloaded all of our other weapons and empty magazines. By the time she was done, we were stuffing rucksacks and fatigues into the back. We all put our gear back on, and replaced our body armor. I wasn’t about to go outside without that. It had saved my life too many times. Then I pulled on one of the Army Field Jackets that we’d found. It was too big for me, but fit well over the body armor.

  “Why don’t we switch out our M-16’s for one of the AK’s,” I said. “We’re running low on ammo for the 16’s and we have a shit-ton for the AK’s.”

  “Good call,” said Southard, selecting an AK for himself.

  Spec-4 and I both selected an AK and I filled my rucksack and my cargo pocket with loaded magazines. I put my M-16 and its remaining ammo in my range bag. I was going to lose the grenade launcher for now, but that was a small price to pay. I couldn’t afford to be without the firepower from the assault rifle. Although I wasn’t as familiar with the AK-47 as I was with the M-16, I was comfortable enough to use it. It was really a simple weapon.

  I was thrilled when I saw the Bronco. It was a mid-seventies model with the big V-8 engine and full time four wheel drive plus a four speed transmission. It was black with a brush guard on the front bumper and brush covers over the tail-lights. Big mud tires made it sit up higher and gave it good clearance. That would help it to go over curbs, debris and zombies without high centering. It would clear the top of the garage door by mere inches.

  I put the key and turned the ignition to the on position. The fuel gage climbed to over half a tank.

  “Well,” I said. “It’s not full of gas, but it should have enough to get us where we need to go.”

  “I saw some gas cans at the back of the garage,” said Spec-4.

  “I’ll check it out,” said Southard.

  He was back in just a few seconds, a big grin on his face.

  “I found two gas cans back there,” he said. “There’s about ten gallons of gas.”

  “Put it the tank,” I said, nodding.

  Southard nodded and headed back to the rear of the vehicle. It didn’t take long before he was putting the empty cans in the back. He managed to shove them into the back with the other supplies and came back to the door.

  “That should do it,” he said. “It took both cans. This sucker has a big tank.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “These old beasts do.”

  “With the power off, how do we open the garage door?” he asked.

  “That red handle hanging from the cord next to the garage door opener,” I said. “Pull that and it will disconnect the motor. Then it can be opened up manually.”

  “Great,” he said. “What if there’re zombies out there?”

  “You open the door, and I’ll cover you,” I said, grabbing my AK.

  Once I was in position, he pulled the release cord and unlocked the door. Then, he looked at me with an uncertain look on his face.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “Do we really have a choice?”

  He sighed and nodded once. With a quick motion, he pulled the garage door up and pushed it all the way open. I prepared to fire, but there were no zombies within fifty feet of the door. That wouldn’t last, since the noise had gotten their attention. Several of them were starting to come our way.

  “Get in!” I yelled, and headed for the driver’s door.

  Chuck headed towards the door, then sidetracked quickly and shut the door to the kitchen. I had the engine started when he dove inside and slammed his door.

  “Go! Go! Go!” he said.

  I didn’t hesitate, either. I popped the clutch and shot out of the garage. The nearest zombies were still more than ten feet away as I flew down the driveway. The street was blocked with the two SPD cruisers and our Charger, so I turned sharply and drove through the yard. The big Bronco had no trouble whatsoever and bounced off of the curb without a hitch.

  The crowd of zombies that had come from down near the Mega-Mart were still milling about in the road, but I didn’t turn that direction. I went farther west, heading down Walnut Lawn. I knew that there was a large apartment complex this direction, but I planned on turning off before I got there. No reason to tempt fate.

  Murphy’s Law was in full effect, though. Every side road that I could have taken prior to reaching the apartments was blocked. I didn’t have a choice in the matter, now. As we approached the intersection I could see zombies moving around, but not in the numbers I had expected. I also saw something that made me think. Hanging from the balcony of one of the apartments was a hand-made sign that simply said “ALIVE.”

  I slowed down and nudged Southard.

  “I see it,” he said. “Who knows how long that’s been there? There might not be anyone in there, now.”

  As if to mock him, the balcony door opened and two young women came out. They looked to be about college age, I’d guess in their early twenties. Both were wearing t-shirts and jeans. One was a blonde and the other a red-head. They began to frantically wave their arms in the air and yell to us.

  “Help!” they screamed.

  From the distance we were at, you could barely hear them.

  “What do you think?” I asked to no one in particular.

  “It won’t be easy,” said Spec-4.

  “But they’re hot,” whined Southard. “We have to rescue the hot girls. They’ll be grateful and everything.”

  “Shut up, Chuck,” I said, laughing. “You’re married.”

  “That doesn’t apply in this situation,” he replied. “Everyone knows that it’s ok to sleep with hot chicks that you rescue when it’s the end of the world. It’s in the handbook.”

  “What handbook is that, exactly?” I asked, grinning.

  “The one I’m going to write when this is all over,” he replied. “How to Survive the End of the World. By Chuck Southard.”

  “You’re an ass,” said Spec-4, shaking her head in mock disgust.

  “Relax,” I said. “We’re going to rescue them, but not so you can get laid.”

  “What if the option’s on the table,” he asked, grinning like a kid. “I’m just sayin’.�
�

  “Well,” I said. “If they throw themselves at you, you’ll have to do what you think is right.”

  “What if they throw themselves at me?” asked Spec-4, grinning.

  “Then I at least get to watch,” said Southard, lecherously.

  “Alright,” I said. “Let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s figure out a way to get them out of there.”

  “Can we use the drop onto the roof thing?” asked Southard. “It worked like a charm on me and EMT.”

  “Probably not,” I said. “They’re too high up. Plus, we don’t have a turret hatch, this time.”

  “There are too many zombies for us to fight our way up the stairs,” said Southard.

  Zombies were beginning to get close to us from both sides of the vehicle. Time was not on our side. I didn’t want to admit it, but a rescue might not be an option. I almost turned the wheels to turn and leave, when my stupid Neanderthal brain kicked in and refused to allow me to leave two women to die like that. I just couldn’t do it. Call me old fashioned, but I still believed in opening the door for a lady, I still called people ma’am and sir, and I still couldn’t resist helping a damsel in distress. I guess chivalry wasn’t quite dead, yet.

  I pulled the gear shift from four wheel-high to four wheel-low, then shifted into first gear. Then I turned and drove directly into the nearest group of zombies. They made a wet crunching sound as they disappeared beneath our wheels. The big Bronco only bounced a bit as it ground zombie after zombie into zombie bits.

  “Are you nuts?” asked Southard.

  “Little bit,” I said, and kept going.

  I had noticed that none of the zombies in the area were in groups larger than ten. So I decided that I would just turn a bunch of the Sprinters, Shamblers and Shriekers into Crawlers. I drove around the area, running over as many zombies as I could line up in front of the Bronco. The big brush guard helped out with that. We sat up too high for any of them to easily scramble onto the hood and I kept moving so that they couldn’t surround us.

  The tactic was working, too. I was rapidly thinning the ranks of the mobile dead. Sure, there were plenty of Crawlers around, but you pretty much had to not be paying attention to get grabbed by a Crawler. Once I’d made a significant dent in the crowd on our side of the apartment complex, I pulled back into the road and stopped.

  “Now what are you doing?” asked Southard.

  Grinning, I ignored him and got out of the vehicle. Spec-4 didn’t wait for an invitation and followed me out the door. She wasn’t sure what I was doing, but she was going to cover my back whatever it was. I liked that about her. She was ready to fight, and trusted my lead without questioning everything I did. Reluctantly, Southard jumped out his door and covered the area.

  I lay my AK-47 on the hood of the Bronco and started taking aim. The hallways to the apartments were open. I could see between the apartments on both floors from where I stood. I scanned the top floor and saw six zombies. I aimed carefully and started taking my shots. We weren’t any more than fifty yards away, so the shots were easy. I made six headshots in less than ten seconds.

  Spec-4 saw what I was doing, and followed suit. She put her rifle down on the hood and started scanning the floors. The two of us cleared the ten zombies off of the ground floor in less than ten seconds. Southard took the hint and started clearing the path to the stairs while we were clearing the hallways.

  “The hallways are clear!” I shouted to the girls.

  They didn’t need to be told twice. They disappeared into the apartment. A few seconds later, they emerged onto the second floor hallway, carrying backpacks. We covered them as they ran down the stairs and emerged on the ground floor. Then they sprinted towards us, easily avoiding the Crawlers on the ground.

  “Get in!” I yelled, as they approached.

  They piled into the back seat without hesitation. Spec-4 climbed into the back, as well. Southard and I were the last inside, and locked the doors.

  “Are either of you bitten?” I asked.

  “No,” they both said, at the same time.

  “Give me time,” mumbled Southard, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  I just grinned and nodded at Spec-4, and she started checking them over.

  “Want any help?” asked Southard.

  I ignored him and fired the engine back to life. I put it back into four wheel-high, and put it in gear. Then turned around and headed down the road to the south. I knew that this road would take us out to Republic Road, and from there it wasn’t very far to the Library. The addition of two more bodies to the vehicle was going to make things pretty tight, though. Oh well, I’d rather be crowded and moving than trapped and waiting to be eaten. We’d work it out. I’m sure that Southard would volunteer to let the women sit on his lap.

  “They seem ok to me,” said Spec-4.

  “Thank you for rescuing us,” said the red-head. “My name is Alyssa and this is Miranda.”

  The blonde smiled and waved.

  “I’m Charles Southard, but you ladies can call me Chuck,” said Southard, smiling.

  “I’m Chrissy Wilder,” said Spec-4. “And that guy driving is Wylie Grant. He’s with the Sheriff’s Office.”

  “I’m a Deputy, as well,” said Southard, grinning lecherously.

  “What about you?” said Miranda to Spec-4.

  “I’m with the National Guard,” she said. “But I guess I got drafted by the Sheriff’s Office.”

  “Well, I guess since I’m kind of the Sheriff right now,” I said. “I’ll just deputize you, too.”

  “Cool,” said Spec-4. “Is there an oath or something?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Here it goes. Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you?” I asked.

  “I do,” she said.

  “You’re in,” I said, smiling.

  I fished one of the badges I’d collected out of my cargo pocket and tossed it to her.

  “Welcome to the department,” I said.

  “Damn, that was easy,” said Southard. “I had to get my law enforcement certification at Drury and go through a background check and application process. Not to mention all the interviews and the psyche eval.”

  “You passed a psyche eval?” asked Spec-4, incredulously.

  “Yeah,” replied Southard. “I sure fooled them.”

  “Well,” I said. “All things considered, I think I’ll waive all of that.”

  “Hmm,” said Southard. “You may have a point.”

  “Is there someplace safe that you can take us?” asked Alyssa.

  “We’ve got a group of survivors holding together at the jail,” I said.

  “The jail?” asked Miranda, surprised.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s a fortress. We can hold it.”

  “That’s fine with us,” said Alyssa. “Just don’t leave us alone, again. I didn’t think we’d ever make it out of that apartment. We barricaded the door, but we couldn’t escape.”