Ragnarok Rising Read online

  There were three bite marks in the mangled flesh of my left calf muscle. Through the oozing blood that emanated from the largest of them, I could see something white stuck in the ragged wound. I began probing the wound with my fingers and cringed when I realized what I was looking at. It was the ends of several teeth that had gotten lodged in my flesh. One by agonizing one, I removed them all. The biggest of them was one of the large canine teeth and it was struck deep enough that I had to use my multi-tool to pull it free.

  When it finally came loose, I tossed it aside and wretched into the sandy soil beside me. Only bloody water emerged from my throat and splashed out onto the rocks. More spasms rocked my chest and I let my head loll to the side until they passed. When I opened my eye again, the vision was rapidly clearing. Shapes and colors were slowly returning to normal and no longer swirling around. My left eye, however, still refused to open.

  Slowly, I lifted my fingers to gently probe the area around my left eye. As my fingertips dabbed at my cheek, I felt a warm, sticky liquid covering my face on that side. With growing trepidation, I moved my hand back far enough to see it with my right eye. My fears were confirmed when I saw that my fingers were covered with blood. It was thick and semi-congealed; leading me to believe that the bleeding was mostly stopped.

  Steadying my nerves and strengthening my resolve, I grimaced as I lifted my fingers back to my eye. I tensed with ghastly anticipation, afraid of what I was about to find. Fear turned to horror as my fingers found something hard protruding from my left eye socket. It was covered with sticky blood and what I could only assume was the vitreous humor that had once been inside my eyeball. Whatever it was, it had completely destroyed my left eye.

  With my right hand, I found a stick and shook the worst of the dirt off of it. Then I stuck it between my teeth to give me something to bite down on in anticipation of what was going to come next. With grim determination, I grasped whatever it was and began to pull. At first, only pain shot through my skull like someone had shoved a white-hot poker through my face. Whatever it was, it was holding fast.

  Biting harder on the stick, I pulled with all my strength. The agony turned my vision red and I screamed through clenched teeth, both in pain and in frustration as whatever it was slipped from my fingers and I lost my grip. Wave after wave of searing pain rippled through my skull as I fought to remain conscious. It was a battle that I nearly lost. My stomach heaved violently, threatening to void itself once again.

  After what felt like eternity, I finally regained my strength and my vision once again began to clear. The worst part was that I knew whatever it was had to come out of there. Reaching for my multi-tool, I lifted it up and turned it around in front of me. Returning the stick to my mouth, I bit down on it in expectation of the excruciating pain that was to come. The thought of pulling it free was almost more than I could bear.

  “Why bother?” I found myself thinking as sobs wracked my body. “You’re going to turn, anyway.”

  Somewhere, something deep inside me refused to give in. I would continue to fight this, right up until the bitter end. I refused to submit to the inevitable. It was not going to take me without one hell of a fight, if I had anything to say about it. I might not survive, but I was not going to become one of them. Not while there was life and strength left in me. I might not survive this but I would not allow myself to turn. If I was going to die, it was going to be on my own terms.

  Despite the nigh unbearable pain that I knew was to come, morbid curiosity made me determined to know exactly what had pierced my eye. It didn’t feel like a stick and it definitely wasn’t made of stone or metal. Whatever the hell it was, it was stuck fast. It couldn’t have pierced the eye socket and been driven into my brain or it would have already killed me. Now more than ever, I was determined to find out what it was.

  Taking a nerve steadying breath, I raised the multi-tool up to my eye. Gently, I probed with the tip until I had the end of the mystery object firmly in the grip. Bearing down on the handles with all of the strength I had, I tensed for the coming fury of pain that I was about to unleash upon myself. Even knowing it was coming did little to prepare me for the reality. Had I known what I was about to unleash upon myself, I might have reconsidered. I might have, but probably not.

  With a firm grip on the tool, I began to pull with steadily increasing pressure. At first, only fiery pain filled my skull. The thing continued to refuse to budge. I was unrelenting and kept the pressure on, continuing to increase the force. As my arm began to shake from the exertion, I felt that I was going to faint from the torture I was inflicting upon myself. I knew that if I didn’t get it out now, I might never have the chance again. My strength was beginning to ebb, as was my willpower.

  Shifting my grip to use both hands, I redoubled my efforts. Although the pain was growing exponentially in intensity, I refused to give in. With a scream of anguished fury, I pulled with all I had left. The inferno inside my skull became my entire world as I grappled with the thing that had pierced my eye. Just as I knew my strength was about to fail, I felt whatever it was slip and come loose from its deathlike grip. I felt it separate from the bone in the back of my eye. Whatever it was, it had been lodged in my skull, not merely stuck in the eye.

  It came free with a wet slurping sound and in a rush of blood, rage and agony. I fell over onto my right side, both from exhaustion and relief. The pain continued to radiate through my head like the pounding surf of a hurricane-tossed sea, savagely beating against the rocks. I was violently sick and unable to move, other than to convulse on the ground in intense agony. I’d never felt anything even remotely close to the pain that now dominated my world.

  When my vision cleared and I could control my body again, I began to focus on the world around me. The sun was low in the sky and I knew that somehow hours had passed since I had forced whatever it had been from my skull. My mouth tasted nauseatingly of both bile and of the coppery-metallic flavor of blood. I could feel it had turned crusty and dried at the corners of my mouth.

  My face was covered in brittle, dried blood and the wound had miraculously ceased to bleed. I gently probed around the left side of my face, dreading the results. The worst thing was the gaping hole that had once been my left eye. It was completely gone. When the shock of that revelation began to ease, I dabbed my fingers around the ghastly wound. What I found was shocking.

  Gouged deep into the flesh were jagged lacerations that ran down my cheek and onto my neck, nearly shredding my ear. There were four of them, with a measured gap between the last two. The realization of what they were stuck me like a mallet. They were claw marks. That could only mean one thing. The very thought of it filled me with vile revulsion, but I had to know for sure.

  Searching around, I found my multi-tool. The object was still gripped firmly in its jaws. Despite the dried blood and pieces of what could only be my eyeball, I recognized the object that lay on the ground before me. It was the severed finger of the Stalker. It had not only pierced my eye, but the claw had dug deeply into the skull at the back of the socket. If there had been anything left in my stomach to lose, it would have come up right then. All I could do was stare in mute horror at the clawed finger in front of me, and it filled me with revulsion.

  Forcing myself to lean back against the rock, I began to try to slow my breathing. My thoughts started to piece together everything that had happened, since the beginning. Despite it all, I still didn’t feel like I was ready to die. I felt like after all I had been through, to die like this was a severe disappointment. I wanted to scream to the Gods at the injustice of it all. I was beyond angry. I felt the burning heat of my rage radiating through me.

  I also felt the nausea and weakness as it spread through my body. From the sweat on my brow, I knew that I was already running a high fever. The virus was burning through me. It wouldn’t be much longer now. It might only be a matter of minutes before I slipped into the darkness and turned. I only had one option left to me. As much as I hated to reach t
hat decision, I hated the thought of becoming one of the undead even more.

  Reaching back, I pulled the Keltec Shotgun free from the straps. I knew that there was already a round in the chamber. The Winchester Supreme Elite round would make certain that I didn’t turn. If I was going to go out, it was going to be with a bullet not as one of them. I might not be going to Valhalla, but I’ll be damned if I was becoming one of the dead. At least there was that small consolation.

  Making certain that there were no obstructions in the barrel, I switched off the safety and checked the trigger. Then I turned the weapon over and placed the barrel beneath my chin, feeling the cool steel against my flesh. Closing my eye, I let my thoughts run through all of the people that I cared about, both living and dead. I felt hot tears of sorrow appearing in my eye as I wished I could have held my children and my wife, just one more time.

  One by one, their faces drifted through my memory and I said goodbye to each of them as they appeared. I briefly considered praying before I pulled the trigger. Try as I might, I just couldn’t see the point. There would be no warrior’s afterlife waiting for me. That thought hurt me almost as badly as the thoughts of my family. I felt a deep pang of remorse at the loss of so much. What other choice did I have?

  I took a deep, steadying breath and held it. Tensing for the blast, I began to tighten my grip on the trigger. Just as the slack was beginning to be taken up, I was shook out of my concentration by the sound of a familiar voice behind me. I recognized it instantly. It was the Old man from the Freeman Camp who had saved my life.

  “You might not want to do that just yet, son,” he chided, softly.

  Lowering the weapon, I turned my head to see him sitting on a large rock behind me. He looked like he’d been sitting there all day. Lying next to him on either side were two large wolves, one with a black face and the other grey. His face was still wrapped with the filthy rag that was covering his eye. Oddly enough, it was also his left eye. I didn’t have time to ponder that bit of irony for very long, because another thought was nagging at me. There was the little fact that he was dead. I set his funeral pyre ablaze myself.

  “How can you be here?” I asked, blinking in surprise. “You’re dead.”

  “Am I now?” he replied, shifting his position. “You don’t look so good, yourself.”

  Although I knew I had to be hallucinating, I just shrugged and winced as the movement sent spasms of pain down my back. The old man just cackled with laughter and slapped his knee as if it was the funniest thing in the world. At the sounds of his mirth, the wolves sat up with perked ears and looked around for signs of trouble. Seeing none, they lay back down as if nothing had happened. After a few moments, the pain subsided and I began to breathe easier. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I slowly shifted so I was facing him.

  “How can this be?” I asked, eying him speculatively.

  “How can anything be?” he replied, cryptically. “How can the dead be dead, yet still walking around? How can you believe in that, yet be surprised by the fact that I’m here?”

  He reached down casually and scratched the ears of the wolf to his left. It folded its ears back in pleasure as the old man ruffled its fur. The other wolf leaned up and licked the old man on the arm. It struck me as odd that two wild animals would react to him in such a way, but I had other questions burning in my mind.

  “But you’re not a zombie,” I answered, shaking my head.

  “And neither are you,” he countered, gesturing at the shotgun still clutched in my hands.

  “Not yet,” I said, my tone darkening. “I’ve been bitten, though.”

  “I see…,” he said, scratching his beard. “I guess you aren’t aware, then?”

  “Aware of what?” I demanded, starting to grow impatient.

  “Well,” he began, grinning slyly, “You’re Einherjar.”

  He let that statement hang in the air, as if it explained everything. Both wolves lifted their heads in unison and stared at me with intensely intelligent blue eyes. Maybe it was the fact that I was still addled and maybe it was the pain, but I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. I knew what the Einherjar were, but not what he was hinting at. There was something that he wasn't telling me.

  “You know the chosen of Odin. The Lone Warriors.”

  “I know what it means,” I said, growing a bit irritable.

  “Do you?” he asked. “Do you, really?”

  “Well, I thought I did,” I said, blinking slowly.

  “It means that you can’t be turned,” he said, cackling again. “None of you can be.”

  “What? I can’t?” I asked, incredulously. “What others are you talking about?”

  “Why, the other Einherjar,” he explained, not really helping.

  “There are others?” I said, almost to myself.

  “Why, sure there are,” he said, standing up. “There’s you, of course. You’re the first. You’ve already met one of the others.”

  “Janos?” I asked, lifting my head up to look at his face.

  “Yes, that’s him,” he replied. “Then of course, your sons are. Or more precisely, they will be when the time comes.”

  “Are there others?” I asked, suddenly intrigued.

  “There are,” he replied, grinning. “Five of them, in fact. You’ll meet them all, in due time.”

  “But I’ve been bitten,” I said, still not convinced.

  “Trust me, boy,” said the old man. “You’re not going to turn. You will survive the bites. But that’s not your biggest problem right now.”

  “And what is?” I said, painfully shifting my weight.

  “It’s almost dark,” he said, gesturing at the sky. “You don’t want to be out here when it gets dark. You managed to take out some of the Stalkers. Not all of them.”

  “Where do you suppose I should go?” I asked. “I’m not exactly in any shape to travel.”

  “Well,” said the old man, scratching his beard, “there’s a place I saw not too far from here. I’ll help you. If we hurry, we should get there before dark. But only if we hurry.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was up to moving or not, but the thought of staying out here on the riverbank when the sun went down wasn’t exactly appealing. Even if I did have some kind of immunity to the bites, it wouldn’t keep me from being torn to pieces by the dead. I could still die from wounds and trauma. I knew I could take a lot of punishment, but I really didn’t want to push my luck all that far. I think just being alive after everything that had happened to me was pushing it far enough.

  With supreme effort, I leveraged myself up onto the rock. My legs weren’t cooperating when it came to actually supporting my weight. My head swam and the world just didn’t look the same. With only one eye, my depth perception had completely gone to shit. It was going to take me a while to get used to seeing only in mono instead of stereo. I felt weak and disoriented, both from blood loss and from the new perspective that I had of the world.

  I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that the old man wasn’t just a hallucination. With the loss of blood and the trauma, it was entirely possible. However, hallucination or not, I was going to need his help to get to wherever he was taking me. I could hardly put any weight on my legs. As he approached me, I half expected for him to not be able to touch me or to just disappear entirely. I was pleasantly surprised when I felt his strong grip on my arm.

  “Put your weight on me, son,” he said, slipping my left arm around his shoulders.

  Despite looking like a frail old man, he was shockingly strong. He not only pulled me onto my feet, but he took the brunt of my weight onto his emaciated frame and headed off into the woods. I tried to help as best I could, but I wasn’t really doing anything. My feet were dragging more than they were taking steps. Surprisingly, he never stumbled or missed a step.

  Instantly, the two wolves took off into the trees. They made hardly any sound at all as they vanished into the underbrush. Although the old man hadn’t given them a co
mmand, I had the feeling that they were doing his bidding. It was an oddly comforting feeling to know that they were out there, covering us from the shadows.

  There was a trail that led off into the trees. It was wide enough for both of us to travel down without any issues. It was too well defined to be a game trail, so I had to assume that it had either been used for biking or hiking. Although there were small hills and rocks, the travelling was smooth and easy. We were making good time, wherever we were going.

  As the sun crept lower in the sky, the shadows around us began to darken and lengthen. I didn’t see any undead, but I could hear the crackling of branches in the woods around us. I didn’t think that we had been seen though. Nothing was coming directly after us. I didn’t hear any Shriekers and the sounds of movement didn’t seem to be getting any closer. I hoped our luck held since I wasn’t in any kind of shape to fight. I doubted that it could be the wolves, since they made practically no noise at all.

  Just as the sun was starting to sink below the horizon, we emerged into a clearing. In the center was a sight I was very happy to see. It was one of the old U.S. Forest Service fire watch towers. It was a cabin-type building perched atop the four legs of a tower. It had to reach seventy-five to a hundred feet above us. In the days before satellite surveillance, they were manned constantly to watch for forest fires. It still looked secure, but there were a lot of stairs.

  “Here we are,” said the old man, turning us towards the base of the stairs.

  “Is it secure?” I asked, looking up.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” he replied, as we reached the bottom of the stairs. "Besides, it's not like we have any other choices."

  I winced in pain as we began the painful process of climbing numerous flights of stairs. The staircase angled back and forth as it reached for the bottom of the building above us. I didn’t bother counting them as I was already concentrating too hard on not passing out. Through the pain, the loss of blood and the lack of vision in one eye, I was nearly out of it. My endurance was spent and I just wanted to lie down and fade out into the darkness.