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

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Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) Page 34

by D. A. Roberts


  The U-haul didn’t fare much better. It had gone straight into the back of the semi trailer, and sheared off most of the driver’s side of the truck. It was amazing that nothing had caught fire. There were zombies milling around everywhere and I had to have Spec-4 get back on the SAW. It only took her a few seconds to clear us enough of a path to get through.

  “Isn’t that the Stop ‘n’ Rob that we rescued those people from yesterday?” asked Spec-4, leaning back inside the turret.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I said. “It sure seems longer than that.”

  “True,” said Spec-4, dropping back inside and securing the turret hatch.

  Once she was back in the passenger seat, she grabbed both her M-16 and mine and started reloading them.

  “Wasn’t the intersection at Sunshine pretty much blocked?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said, “When we were in the bus. I think I can get us through in smaller vehicles.”

  “What do you mean you think?” asked Wright, snidely.

  “Trust me,” I said, smiling.

  Wright didn’t look convinced and I think Spec-4 took that personally.

  “Look,” said Spec-4. “We have done this before. If Wylie thinks he can do something, I trust him. You should, too.”

  “Hey,” said Wright. “No need to get upset. I just really don’t want to spend another night out here.”

  “It’s ok,” I said, trying to smooth things over. “No offense taken.”

  Spec-4 didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes said it all. She was pissed. I’m not sure why Wright struck such a nerve with her, but she did. Sergeant Daniels chimed in and tried to change the subject.

  “Wylie?” he asked. “How long do you think it will take us to get back to the jail?”

  “Depends on how many obstructions we run into. I can’t see it taking too much longer, assuming we don’t run into any more firefights.”

  “I’m not saying that I think you guys can’t do this or anything,” said Wright, not getting the hint. “It’s just hard for me to trust my life to a…”

  “Lowly jail guard?” Spec-4 finished for her, venom in her voice.

  “Well, since you put it that way,” said Wright. “Then, yeah, pretty much. The jailers are mostly just a joke. A bunch of babysitters who think they’re law enforcement.”

  I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Here we were, doing our best to survive and Wright couldn’t get over the fact that she was a Patrol Deputy and I was just a jailer. I hit the brakes and slid to a stop.

  “What did you just fucking say?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah,” said Sergeant Daniels. “What did you just say?”

  “I think I was pretty clear,” said Wright. “I’m the only Patrol Officer here. I should be calling the shots, not some black shirt.”

  “I’ve held my commission for ten years, now,” said Sergeant Daniels. “And, I’m a sergeant on top of that. You aren’t even a corporal.”

  “So what,” she replied. “So you’re a sergeant in the jail. That means exactly squat in the field.”

  “Wylie is the Sheriff,” said Spec-4. “Did you notice the badge?”

  “Yeah, I saw it,” snapped Wright. “So what? So he picked it up and pinned it on when a better man died. That doesn’t make him Sheriff.”

  “How long have you had your commission?” asked Sergeant Daniels.

  “Six months,” she replied. “What’s your point?”

  “And your six months experience makes you better than an officer who has served in the jail for years?” he asked, his voice growing soft.

  “Hey, those who can go to Patrol,” she snapped. “Those who can’t, sit in the jail.”

  I thought Sergeant Daniels was going to shoot her, from the look on his face. Hell, I wanted to shoot her myself. Spec-4 looked livid. She started to say something, when I put my hand on her arm and shook my head.

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “This is the kind of crap we get all the time. She’s all of 22 and thinks she knows it all. I spent more time in the Army than she did in school, but I am still just a jailer. You won’t change her mind.”

  “When we get back to the jail, I’ll be assuming command of this group,” said Wright.

  “IF you make it back to the jail,” said Sergeant Daniels. “You’re welcome to take some ammo and a vehicle and be on your way. Not only will you NOT be in charge, if you try to cause trouble, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Wright reached for her pistol, but Spec-4 was faster. Her Beretta appeared in her hand, as if by magic.

  “You can slowly take out that Glock and hand it to me,” said Spec-4. “And if you so much as twitch wrong, not even the zombies will be able to find your brains.”

  “Wilder,” I said. “Put the gun down. There is no need for us to be at each other’s throats. I couldn’t give a shit about her opinion.”

  “No one at the jail is going to follow a rookie officer who thinks she can tell a group of veterans what they can do just because she’s commissioned,” said Sergeant Daniels. “That kind of respect is earned.”

  “We’ll see,” hissed Wright.

  “Get out,” I heard myself saying.

  “What?” replied Wright, surprised.

  “You heard me,” I said. “Get the fuck out. You can have your weapon and we’ll give you some ammo, but get the hell out of my vehicle.”

  “You can’t do that,” whined Wright. “I won’t survive.”

  “That’s right,” I practically screamed at her. “You won’t survive on your own! None of us will! We have to pull together and work together or we’re going to die!”

  Wright didn’t say anything; she just stared at me with hate in her eyes.

  “Do you know who got weapons and ammo from the National Guard Armory and brought it back to the jail?”

  “No,” said Wright.

  “We did,” I snapped. “Wilder, Southard and me. Not you. Do you know who rescued Southard and an EMT?”

  “No,” replied Wright, her voice growing softer.

  “We did,” I said, gesturing at me and Spec-4.

  “Do you know how many officers we’ve rescued?” Spec-4 snapped at Wright.

  “No,” Wright said, looking down now.

  “Sixteen, counting you,” I said. “Over twice that in civilians.”

  “But you had help from real cops,” Wright said, a bit of her fire coming back.

  “Not really,” said Spec-4. “Mostly it was me, Wylie, Southard and Sanders. Wylie led us to all of you.”

  “Southard is a patrol officer,” said Wright. “Why didn’t you follow him.”

  “Because Southard and I are friends,” I replied. “We’ve worked together, we know each other and more importantly, we trust each other. He trusted me enough to follow me.”

  “I trust him with my life,” said Spec-4. “And I’m not even a cop. I’m Army.”

  “Commissions amount to absolutely nothing right now,” I said. “It’s about survival, now. You’re going to want to follow someone with some actual experience.”

  “Wow,” snapped Wright. “You have a lot of experience fighting zombies. Was there a big zombie war sometime in the past that I didn’t hear about?”

  “Young lady,” said Maddie. “This man has been nothing but a gentleman since he rescued me. I’ve been a resident of this county for the last six sheriffs. I would have to say that he ranks right up there with the best of them. Now just because he doesn’t have your fancy piece of paper doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what he’s doing, or that he doesn’t deserve your respect. You’d do well to remember that.”

  “You can stay in the vehicle,” I said. “I wasn’t really going to toss you out. But you will remain quiet for the rest of time we’re in here. When we get back to the jail, you can leave if you want. No one will stop you. But I’ll be damned if I’ll sit idly by and watch you undermine everything we’ve been trying to do. Good people have died to get us where we are. We’v
e all risked our lives in this. I won’t let your lack of experience and humility tear it all apart.”

  “But…” began Wright.

  “I’d keep quiet, if I were you,” said Maddie. “Before he changes his mind and puts you out on your backside.”

  Wright got a sullen look on her face, but said nothing. Samantha Patterson just glared daggers at Wright, but didn’t say anything. I have the feeling that Wright was like this the entire time they were together. I had the sudden realization that I now knew someone from the patrol side that I actually liked less than Henderson.

  Without another word, I put the Humvee back into gear and continued on. Southard kept pace behind us. I could see him in the mirror giving me the “What the hell?” look. I’d have to explain it to him when we got back. I knew one thing for sure, though. He wasn’t going to like it. Chuck came from the jail and knew what we went through. I used to tease him about being a “traitor” and going to the other side. But Chuck respected what we did, and it showed. He might have gone to the other side, but he’d always be one of us.

  I made it to the intersection at Sunshine. It was blocked worse than I had given it credit. I couldn’t find a gap that would let us continue down the Bypass. I had to take the ditch and go back east on Sunshine. That would be just fine, though. I already knew the path we’d need to take back to the jail. It was already cleared by our trip out here in the bus. So long as we didn’t run into any zombie hordes, we’d be back to the jail before sundown.

  I was right about the path being cleared, but the sun was already down before we rolled through the back gate at the jail. We’d avoided the worst of the zombies, and found our way back home. Well, home for now. It wasn’t great, but it was keeping us safe. And the lights were still on. I guess the Gods were watching over us.

  I almost yelled out for joy when the gate rumbled shut behind us. I got out of the Humvee with Spec-4 and Southard following suit. We did a quick pass around the vehicles with our weapons at the ready, just making sure we didn’t have any unexpected hitchhikers.

  “Clear,” I said, softly.

  Right about then, the doors to Release opened and out came several people. EMT, Sanders, Kris Newberry, the Fair Grove Guys and the Lieutenant all came out to greet us. Sanders almost broke my back in a bear-hug.

  “Welcome back,” said the L.T.

  “Thank you, sir,” I replied. “It’s good to be back.”

  After everyone had climbed out of both vehicles, we brought out laundry carts and started unloading supplies. The bag of AK47’s and pistols went with my stuff in the Classification Office. I was getting quite a collection of guns. I was going to need them when I went after Karen and the boys. At least, I was in good shape. I had plenty of weapons, and all of them without taking away from the supply the jail had.

  By the time we were fully unloaded, it was completely dark. I made sure all the people that we rescued were seen by medical and then fed. Then medical insisted on taking a look at my head. The wound that Spec-4 had sealed with super glue was seeping blood, again. EMT told me it was too late to stitch it, since so much time had passed since it happened. I didn’t care, I hate needles anyway.

  “Ok, Wylie,” said EMT. “Fortunately, your skull is pretty thick. No permanent damage done, other than a nice scar.”

  “I’ll take a scar over being zombie chow, any day of the week,” I said.

  “Get some food in you and get some rest,” said EMT. “You’ve earned it, Sheriff.”

  I flipped him off with a smile as I walked out of Medical. I took the stairs and made my way to the break room. Spec-4, Southard, Sanders, Sergeant Daniels, and a few others were waiting.

  “Hey,” said Southard, “nice of you to join us lowly peons.”

  “Come on, now,” I said, grinning. “I don’t think you’re all peons. Just you, Chuck.”

  That drew laughter from the group. I slid into a chair and sighed.

  “You hungry?” asked Spec-4.

  “Yeah,” I said. “But I’ll get a tray in a minute. Right now, I just want to sit here. I’m worn out.”

  “And old,” mumbled Sanders.

  “But still prettier than you, Cal,” I replied, grinning.

  “Not with that scar, you ain’t,” countered Sanders.

  “Scars are sexy,” said Spec-4. “Especially battle scars.”

  “You hear that, you assholes,” I said, smirking. “Scars are sexy.”

  “Well then, Frankenstein,” said Sgt. Daniels, “you must be the sexiest man alive. You look like you ran face-first through a barbed wire fence.”

  “Gee, thanks, Sarge,” I said, smiling.

  “I heard about the way Wright talked to you,” said Sanders.

  “Screw her,” I said. “She’s just a stupid kid. If she doesn’t wise up, she won’t make it very long around here. No one will want to work with her.”

  “No one does now,” said Southard. “That little bitch never spent a single shift in here. How the hell does she think that she knows what goes on in here?”

  “Forget it, guys,” I said. “I’m not getting worked up over her. I want to relax and eat, in that order.”

  Spec-4 got up and started filling a tray. Southard gave me a leering smile and I flipped him off by rubbing my eye with my middle finger. She came back and sat the tray in front of me, loaded with food.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling at her.

  “No problem,” she said. “How’s the head?”

  “Medical says I was lucky I didn’t hit anything vital,” I said. “I should be fine.”

  “Yeah,” said Chuck. “I’ve known for years that there wasn’t anything vital in your skull.”

  That drew another round of laughter. It was good that everyone could laugh. It helped keep us sane, in an insane world.

  I couldn’t help but think, “We just might make it, after all.”

  Maybe our fate wasn’t yet fixed. Time would tell.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Place with the Helpful Hardware Zombie

  “When we were engaged in the problems of survival we had no time to have anything to do with culture.”

  - Nursultan Nazarbayev

  After a hot meal, I headed into the locker room for a hot shower. I figured that I might as well use the hot water, while it lasted. I kept expecting our power grid to fail, but it hadn’t so far. I knew that the jail was on its own grid, but I didn’t think it would last through all of this. But then again, it never went off when most of the town lost power during the big ice storm a few years back. Most of the town was out of power for a week while the jail just kept right on going. This time though, there were no crews out repairing downed lines or keeping the grid alive.

  I took my time in the shower, and eased away some of the aches and pains. I knew I was pushing myself too hard, but I didn’t realize how hard until the shakes hit me, again. I fell to my knees in the shower and shook like a leaf in a wind-storm. I couldn’t stop. After what felt like a month, it finally passed. I got shakily to my feet and finished showering. Then I dug out my razor and shaving cream to scrape a few days growth off of my face and head. I had to shave around the lacerations on my scalp and by the time I finished, I almost felt human again.

 

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