Ragnarok Rising Page 4

  “Let me check your bandages,” she said, kneeling down beside me.

  I bunched the covers up over my private area and lifted them off of my legs.

  “It’s alright,” she said, smiling. “Who do you think has been keeping you clean for this past week?”

  “I…uh…,” I stammered, embarrassed.

  “Don’t sweat it,” she said, smiling. “By the way, you’ve got some nice ink.”

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling.

  “Especially that backpiece,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  “You probably won’t, again,” I said. “It’s one of a kind.”

  “The artist was a genius,” she said, slowly unwrapping my bandages.

  “You’ll meet him when we get back to my group,” I said. “His name is Janos.”

  “Cool,” said Morgan. “Does he do butterflies?”

  “Janos doesn’t strike me as the butterfly type,” I answered, wincing as Sky removed a bandage that was stuck to a wound.

  I looked down to see that the wounds were still ragged and open. Puss was seeping from the bite marks, but the claw marks were already starting to close. I figured that meant that whatever virus was running through me from the bites was putting up one Hel of a fight with my system. Virus, toxin, plague, or whatever, it was taking everything I had to purge it from my body. Surviving was going to take its toll on me, of that I had no doubt.

  The slime that oozed out of the wounds was a sickly greenish color and smelled worse than it looked. Concentrated evil was the only thing I could think of to call it. Sky didn’t take any chances of it infecting anyone else and threw the used bandages in the fire. It hissed and sizzled before sending tendrils of oily black smoke curling up the chimney. Whatever that crap was, it even fought being burned. It was just plain nasty.

  “That’s some wicked stuff,” said Sky, nodding at the fire. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It’s not natural,” I agreed. “That’s some evil shit.”

  “Definitely,” said Morgan. “It’s gross.”

  Sky cleaned the wounds out with alcohol and hydrogen peroxide, before covering them with antibiotic ointment. Then she carefully covered them with gauze and began wrapping them with practiced ease. When she was finished, she sat pensively for a few moments before meeting my gaze. I could tell that she was troubled.

  “We’ll change those again this evening,” she said, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

  “Well, it’s just that I’ve never seen a wound act like that before,” she explained. “I was a corpsman in the Navy before I began learning healing from my grandmother. I’ve never even heard of anything like this.”

  “Whatever is causing the dead to rise,” I said, thinking aloud, “must be a real bitch on the living tissues. I’m amazed that my body is able to fight it off.”

  “You’re the first one I’ve heard of that got bit and lived to tell the tale,” she admitted. “So far, the Reaper Virus has had a one hundred percent mortality rate.”

  “Well, it’s still in the extremely high ninety nine range,” I replied, forcing a smile.

  “Every virus has people who are naturally immune,” she explained, not returning the smile. “Usually, it’s a noticeable number. Either you have a unique system…”

  “Or this isn’t a virus,” I finished.

  “Exactly,” she replied. “I’m not a virologist, but my best guess is that this is something else. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I don’t think it’s a virus.”

  “For all we know,” said Morgan, “it could be a biblical plague.”

  “Or a toxin worked up in some lab,” added Sky. “Unfortunately, we have absolutely no way to know. It would take a team of scientists with a full bio-lab to work it out. Even then, the CDC couldn’t figure it out before everything fell apart. We may never know, for sure.”

  “For good or for ill, I think we will find out,” I said. “I think that it will all come out, before it’s over.”

  “Time will tell,” answered Sky. “If we live that long.”

  ************************

  It took two weeks of rest and treating my wounds before they stopped oozing fluid. It began to taper off on the last few days. While I healed, I was completely unable to walk. My legs simply wouldn’t support my weight. My fever returned, off and on, but rarely lasted more than a day. During the down time, I tried to stay as busy as possible.

  The first thing I did was to tear all of my weapons apart and clean them, thoroughly. I was nearly ecstatic when I discovered that my Beowulf was disassembled and in my pack, where I had left it. It was strangely comforting to find it there. I might not be able to use it very much due to the noise, but it was good to know that it was there if I needed it.

  My next project took a little more time to complete. My eye was not going to grow back, so I decided to fashion myself an eye-patch. Sky brought me some supplies, along with a toolbox that they had in the cabin. It wasn’t ideal, but it was all I had to work with. I would just have to make it work.

  First, I took a thick piece of leather and traced the outline of my left orbital socket. Once that was done, I cut it out with a pair of scissors. Sky had an old street sign hanging on one wall of the cabin and she let me cut a piece of aluminum out of it using the metal shears from the tool box. Then I placed the piece of leather against it to use as a guide.

  Once it was cut out and shaped, I began to smooth out the edges. I didn’t want a sharp piece of metal up against my face. That could only end badly. Once the edges were smooth, I attached the leather to the back side of the metal with glue. Then I used a hammer and a punch to knock holes in it, about a quarter inch apart all along the edges. Taking a piece of para-cord out of my bag, I measured out four lengths of it and cut it off, burning the ends in the fire. Then I threaded the ends through the holes and wound it around, stitching the leather to the metal.

  Once it was assembled, I began to trace the design on it that I wanted with a pencil. When I was happy with the design, it was time to begin etching it onto the surface with an ice pick. The ironic part was that the etching took me longer than the construction did. When I was finished I had a metal eye-patch with a Volknut surrounded by Celtic knotwork etched into it. Although I have never been much of an artist, I was pleased with the way it turned out. It looked really cool.

  The final step was to braid the cords into a band that would hold the eye-patch securely to my head. Measuring the length to fit my head, I threaded the ends through a metal clasp and tied them off. Once it was secure with the ends of the cord singed to prevent them from unraveling, I checked it for strength. It was strong enough to pull a truck. Between the cord on my eye patch and the cord on the survival bracelet that Morgan braided for me, I would have plenty of line in the event of an emergency.

  I slipped it on my head on the same day that the wounds stopped seeping fluid. Although raw and red, the wounds were beginning to close. I would be on my feet in a few days. It might take me a while to regain my lost strength, but I would walk very soon. I had no doubt about that. If for no other reason than sheer determination, I was going to walk. I’d already lost enough time recovering. I had too much work to do.

  That night, I built up the fire and sat next to it. Sky was sitting in the chair to my left and Morgan had already gone to sleep. I sat in silence, staring into the flames. I was pondering my next move when I heard the old man’s voice in my head.

  “It’s time, son,” he whispered, as if from a great distance. “You're ready.”

  In that instant, things became clear to me that I had been struggling with since this all began. I knew what I needed to do and where my path would take me. It was time to prepare myself. I sat a pan full of water on the coals to heat up. While it heated, I got my shaving gear out of my bag. Sky brought me a small mirror and I looked into my reflection for the first time since the dam exploded. What I saw astounded me
.

  The strain of fighting off the infection had taken its toll on me, in more ways than one. The eye-patch glistened in the flickering light of the fire, but it was my beard and hair that shocked me. They had turned snow white from the strain. There was thick stubble on my head and a thick growth of beard on my face. After staring at the scarred face that I barely recognized as my own, I made a decision. I was going to let it grow. I was keeping the beard. I was going to shave off the hair and trim the beard back to a point, even with my ears. Along with the eye-patch, this was going to be a new look for me. Oh well, it was fitting somehow.

  After my head was scraped clean and my new beard looked better, I wiped off the residue with a towel and surveyed the image in the mirror. Karen wasn't going to recognize me. I doubted that anyone else would, either. Between the white beard, the eye-patch and all of the scars, I looked like a fearsome relic of another time. I was a relic that was going to continue the work that had begun so long ago, when the world was much younger. My eye glistened in the firelight. The resolve there and the fierce look on my face told me I was ready.

  I glanced up to find that both Sky and Morgan were asleep. When I turned back, I could see the old man's face lit up in the dim firelight. He was smiling at me and seemed to be chuckling softly. I could only see his face in the dying light. It was as if it was just floating there. It was a little unnerving, at first. When he spoke, it was softly but with resonating power.

  "You know your path does not lie back to your hearth, don't you?" he asked, his tone indicating he already knew the answer.

  "Yes," I replied. "I feel like I am being pulled in the other direction. Downriver instead of back towards the dam."

  "You are," he assured me. "That is where your path lies. On this path, you will find many things."

  "Like what?"

  "Danger," he said, furrowing his brow, "and more. Hardship, bloodshed and death await you. But so does victory, destiny and redemption. You will meet those that you are destined to meet, along the way. Beware the other chosen ones."

  "The other Einherjar?" I asked, surprised.

  "No," he said. "In the battle that is beginning all around you, the All-Father isn't the only one who has his chosen warriors. Loki has his own, as well. The Hrimthurssar serve him."

  I thought about what I had learned while reading the Eddas and the old Sagas. The Hrimthurssar were supposed to be frost giants. They were also called Jotuns. They were evil creatures from Jotunhiem. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that.

  "Frost Giants?" I said, widening my eye.

  "That's one translation for Hrimthurssar," he said, grinning. "Like the Einherjar, Loki has his own chosen warriors. Nothing you have faced has prepared you for them. You must be ready for this battle."

  "How?" I asked, incredulously.

  "Have faith, my son," he said, chuckling. "It will see you through."

  "You said redemption," I said, frowning. "Redemption for what?"

  "For all the burdens that you carry inside," he explained. "For all the things you won't forgive yourself for. For all those who are lost, as well. The death you must face may not be your own. The tapestry that the Norns have woven is unraveling. Your fate is no longer known to me. The ending of Ragnarok is no longer sure. The path lies before you. Succeed and the world will be reborn. Fail and it will be plunged into eternal darkness."

  "No pressure there," I muttered.

  "Indeed," said the old man. "The price for failure is high, but so is the reward for success. Look to the night sky for your sign. You already know which way your path lies."

  I heard the creaking of a board and turned my head towards the sound. I strained to hear any sound that was out of place, but only the crickets outside and the soft breathing of the women broke the silence. When I turned back to the fire, the old man was gone. The silence was almost overpowering as I sat there alone in the darkness. Doubt and determination battled in my brain. In the end, determination won.

  Getting unsteadily to my feet, I padded barefoot to the locked door that led to the observation deck on the south side of the building. I was wearing only a pair of shorts and my Thor's Hammer. The solid door was reinforced with heavy wooden crossbars and steel bolts. I could tell from the wood that it was thick and could easily withstand the fury of the Stalkers. I doubted that they could get on top of the platform, but anything was possible.

  I paused next to the door and listened, craning my head near the crack of the door. All I could hear was the sounds of crickets and the lonely call of an owl. In the distance, I heard the echoing howl of a wolf that was shortly answered by a second. I could tell by the sounds that there were no predators in the area. Both animals and insects grew quiet when danger was nearby. As silently as I could, I began to remove the locking bolts. After a few moments, I unlocked the final bolt and slowly opened the door.

  The cool night air greeted me with its gentle caress. It smelled sweetly of fresh water and of fragrant flowers. The sky was clear and cloudless, allowing the full moon to shine all the brighter. The night sky was ablaze with an abundance of stars. It was so clear that you could see the colors of the Milky Way. It was a breathtaking moment that I wanted to savor. Without an immediate threat from the dead and no one around, I was able to relax. It was moments like this that I rarely got to experience.

  I leaned my head back and closed my eye, lifting my face to the heavens. On a night like this, it was impossible to believe that the Gods hadn't made all of this for us. There was just so much majesty and beauty in the night sky. I just breathed deeply while I took in the wonderful smell and let the cool air wash over me.

  When I opened my eye, I slowly lolled my head from side to side and bathed in the magnificent tapestry before me. I could see the streaking of light as numerous objects began to burn up in the upper atmosphere. At first, I thought that it was a meteor shower, but some of them were quite large. They were mostly located in the eastern sky, but a few were nearly directly overhead. I was tracking a particularly bright object when a flash of light caught my eye.

  I turned quickly and looked directly at it. At first, it appeared to be one of the objects breaking up in the sky, but then the glow began to expand as secondary explosions began to flash through the night. I couldn't hear anything, but I could imagine the power of the explosions if I could see them from this distance. Whatever it was, it had to be something big. When pieces began to streak away from it and burn up as it entered the atmosphere, it hit me what I was looking at.

  "All-father," I whispered. "That was the International Space Station."

  One particular piece of debris caught my eye. It started to enter the atmosphere, like the others. Then it did something unexpected. It changed course. It was adjusting the re-entry procedure. It was angling in to avoid the worst of the other debris that was falling. Once it was aligned, it began to glow with the heat of re-entry and came burning down out of the sky. It was coming down fast.

  I continued to watch it and other objects as they got lower in the sky. Most of the items burned out long before they got close to the ground. I could tell that whatever this vehicle was, it was going to make it all the way down. Its trajectory looked like it would be coming down somewhere north-east of my position. I wasn't sure how close it would get, but it wasn't going to be too far, probably within a hundred miles of me. I had the distinct feeling that this was the sign the old man told me to look for. If it was, then I definitely wouldn't be heading home any time soon. So be it.

  As I turned back towards the moon, I noticed that there were clouds appearing on the surface. This meteor shower must have been huge. There were impacts striking the moon every few seconds. I've never claimed to be an astronomer, but even I knew that a meteor shower this large was not a good thing. Intermittently, I could see small explosions in the upper atmosphere. There was little room for doubt that the massive meteor shower was destroying the satellites in orbit. Depending on the size of the shower, it would most-likely take out the entire
grid.

  When I looked back to the west, there was something in the sky that I had never noticed before. There were two bright spots that seemed to be larger than the stars around them. They also had a streaking tail pointing behind them. That meant that they could only be one thing. I was seeing a pair of comets with my naked eye. If I could do that, then they had to be close.

  Something big was going on outside our atmosphere and I knew that I needed more information. I had to know if those comets were going to hit us. That would do unspeakable damage to the planet. Scientists called it an Extinction Level Event; a catastrophic collision that could wipe out all life on this planet. I was witnessing a massive disturbance, on a cosmic scale. The Gods were playing their roles in Ragnarok, as well. This would affect all of the nine worlds. Yggdrasil[1] was shaking.

  I sighed deeply and shook my head. The old man's words were true. This was definitely my sign. Ragnarok was upon us. The dead rising was just the beginning. I began to mentally go over the tales I had read of Ragnarok. There were other signs that it was happening. Some of them I would be able to see for myself. Others, only the Gods would know of. I knew one thing for certain. Things were about to get worse; much worse.

  I watched the descent of the escaping ship until I was certain that it was actually going to hit. When it came in low enough that I couldn't see it over the trees, I began to whisper a prayer for whoever was on board. They would be in danger the second they hit the ground. I only hoped that they would still be alive when I could reach them. I had a lot of questions that I hoped they would be able to answer. If anyone knew what was going on above us, it would be them. I had the distinct feeling that it was very important that I find out as much as I could.

  I also had the feeling that I needed to get to them quickly. A growing dread in the pit of my stomach warned me that great danger was approaching. Somewhere, someone else was watching the descent and coming to the same conclusions that I did. Knowledge is power and survivors from the Space Station would be valuable to whoever got to them first. I just hoped it would be me. If not, I feared for their safety. I needed to get to them, quickly.