Ragnarok Rising Page 5

  I decided that I would leave first thing in the morning. My legs weren't fully healed, but it would have to do. Time was no longer on my side. Heading back inside, I secured the door behind me and returned to my bed on the floor near the fire. The air was chilly now and I felt it seeping into my bones. The barest hint of frost could be seen each time I exhaled. I decided to stoke the fire.

  Stirring the coals, I added kindling and a few pieces of dry wood. Soon the coals began to glow brighter and the kindling caught fire. In moments, the fire was crackling back to life sending the flickering light dancing around the darkened cabin. In the wavering shadows, forms could be seen dancing in the light. I could see the shape of a large wolf. I could also see the shape of the ravens as they soared on the winds. The imagery filled me with hope. I felt words welling up inside me. As if from a great distance, I heard my own voice as it whispered into the darkness.

  “The world has changed through no fault of my own. Once people stood for something, but now we are left with only three types of people. There are shepherds, sheep and wolves. I taste only blood on my tongue and feel war in my heart. My mind is a machine gun, my body the bullets…my enemies, the target. I am Wiley and I am the Wolf.”

  Chapter Three

  Huckleberry

  “The trouble is not in dying for a friend, but in

  finding a friend worth dying for.”

  ― Mark Twain

  I awoke to the smell of cooking food. It smelled like oatmeal and berries. Just the hearty meal I would need to fortify me for the coming journey. Sitting up, I reached over and retrieved my eye-patch. Slipping it into place, I sat up and shook off the sleep. Taking a deep breath to clear the last of the cobwebs from my mind, I felt rejuvenated. I got slowly to my feet and smiled when the pain was not as bad as I had expected.

  "Breakfast is almost ready," said Morgan. "Sky is outside gathering some herbs."

  I merely nodded as I padded into the bathroom. When I had finished, I splashed fresh water from the ceramic basin on my face. Then I ran my fingers over my head and through my beard. The water was bracing and cold, but felt fantastic. I felt awake and refreshed.

  Returning to my bedroll, I began to get dressed. My BDU pants had been shredded by the Stalker, but fortunately Sky had given me two pairs of blue jeans that had belonged to her brother. They fit me well enough with a belt, so I put on one pair and tucked the other into my pack. I slipped my t-shirt on and my black uniform shirt. It was an old habit, but it felt right. Tucking it in, I slipped my belt on and reached for my boots. That was the first time I had reached for them since I had been here. They were shredded, just like my pants. The Stalker's claws had torn through the canvas sides and ruined them.

  "Going somewhere?" I heard Sky say as she came in the door.

  "It's time for me to go," I said, glancing down at my ruined boots.

  "You won't be going far in those," she said, smiling. "It's a good thing I decided to make you a new pair."

  "You made me a pair?" I asked, incredulously.

  "Don't act so surprised," she said, smiling. "My people have been doing it for centuries. It's not that difficult. I already had the deerskins and I measured your feet while you were out. I figured you'd need a pair when you were well enough to travel."

  "Thank you," I said, smiling. "That's very kind of you."

  "No problem," she replied. "Do you think you're up to traveling?"

  "I hope so," I said, shrugging. "I have work to do."

  "You can't stay here a few more days," said Morgan, frowning. "We have plenty of food."

  "That's very kind of you," I said, shaking my head, "but I really have to go. I can't really explain it. Call it a vision, if you like."

  "Really?" asked Morgan, smiling brightly. "Are you sure it wasn't just your fever?"

  "I wouldn't question a vision," said Sky, gravely. "It was a vision that led us to find him. I had the feeling that there was a reason for it."

  "There is," I said. "Last night, I watched an escape pod from the International Space Station come down and landed somewhere to the north east of us. I need to find the occupants, if I can."

  "Are you sure that it wasn't just a meteor?" asked Morgan.

  "Yeah," I answered. "For one thing, meteors don't change course. Second, this one came all the way down. It didn’t just burn up when it hit atmo."

  "Then we're coming with you," said Sky.

  "We're what?" exclaimed Morgan.

  "We're going with him," Sky replied, calmly. "We can't stay here forever. I think we'd be better off following Wylie."

  "It will be dangerous," I cautioned. "I don't know how long it will take before I return to my camp."

  "If we're going to survive," said Sky, "we're going to need to be part of a bigger group. We can't do it on our own. Not long term, anyway."

  "Fine," pouted Morgan. "Just don't expect me to like it."

  Sky handed me a pair of buckskin boots with hand stitching. They were laced with leather and trimmed with rabbit fur. They looked rugged and warm. Slipping them on, I discovered that they were very comfortable. Far more so than my old tactical boots. They fit me perfectly, following every contour of my foot. Sky had done an amazing job. Tucking my pants into the tops of the boots, I laced them up and tied off the leather drawstrings.

  "Thank you," I said, stretching my feet. "They’re perfect."

  “I used paraffin wax to seal the stitching,” Sky explained, “and animal fat to waterproof the leather. They should keep your feet dry, even in deep snow.”

  “That’s great,” I replied. “I really appreciate it.”

  “I’m sure that you’ll have plenty of opportunity to return the favor,” said Sky.

  I turned back to the task of prepping my gear. Sky and Morgan started packing their own backpacks and loading supplies. As much as I hated to leave the relative safety of the tower, I knew that my path was laid out for me. It didn’t take long before we had our gear packed and ready. I did a complete check of all my weapons before heading for the door. I returned my Beowulf to my pack. It would be better to use the suppressed M-4. Noise would be a factor when we were on the road. The last item that I put into place was my Gladius. It was comforting to have a sword on my hip. It might have been psychological, but it was reassuring.

  As we headed down the stairs, I watched as Sky locked the padlock on the door and placed the key in the hidden magnetic container on the far side of the rail, just where the old man had found it. Little details like that was all the comfort I needed that my conversations with the old man were more than a delusion. In all the times I had spoken to him, I had never once asked him his name. Maybe it was because, deep down, I already knew who he was. I didn’t say it out loud for fear of sounding crazy. Sometimes, it’s best to keep that kind of thing to yourself.

  When we reached the ground, I brought my M-4 to my shoulder and scanned the area. It was a beautiful morning with only wisps of clouds in the sky. The breeze was out of the north with just a hint of chill to it. It was strange to have such a chilly breeze this early in the year. I had to wonder if we wouldn’t have an early and harsh winter this year. Without all the combined heat put off by vehicles, factories, houses and people, I’m sure that the earth was going to reset itself. It would be interesting to see how much the climate changed. It was a new world, without man as the dominate species. I could only speculate as to how many humans had actually survived the zombies.

  We walked in silence, until we reached the river. I could see the rock where I had propped myself up when I emerged from the water. It already seemed like so long ago. The river was still running swiftly, but was noticeably lower than it had been when the dam came down. That meant that things on the other side of the dam had equalized, as well. It would help with the flooding back at Bennett Springs. We had at least accomplished that much.

  I glanced back up river towards the dam, but the current had swept me downstream far enough that I could no longer see it. It would have been
interesting to see how much damage had been done by the explosion. As much as I wanted to turn and head back to my family and friends, I knew my path was the other direction. It would be easy for me to ignore the old man’s words and head back. Difficult choices were the hallmark of a warrior. I would take the difficult path to whatever end it took me. I would follow my destiny, wherever it led. I just hoped that one day, not too far off, it would lead me home again.

  With a sigh of resignation, I turned and headed down river. I glanced back at the women who were following me. Sky was wearing boots similar to mine and was carrying a bolt-action deer rifle with a scope. She carried herself with the confidence that spoke of her warrior heritage. She would make her ancestors proud. Morgan had a pistol on her hip, but no rifle. She had nearly refused to carry the pistol. Despite living through the zombie apocalypse, she still refused to resort to violence. I admired her conviction, but questioned her decision. It would either get her or one of us killed. This was no longer the time or the place for such idealism. Maybe one day, but not today.

  Despite the slight chill that remained in the air, I was beginning to sweat. Perspiration beaded on my head and my brow, both from the exertion and the growing pain in my legs. It would be easy to just call a break and rest, but I felt that we needed to push on. I refused to give in to the pain, but that wasn’t what was keeping me from stopping. A growing sense of unease had been rising in me for quite some time. Although there was nothing I could see that would explain it, I felt it none-the-less. There was danger in the air.

  I could hear Morgan complaining softly to herself, behind me. Sky was silent, but paying too much attention to Morgan. I felt myself being lulled by her constant stream of grumbling about everything around us. So much so, that I nearly missed the sudden silence of the woods around us. Instinct kicked in and I held up my closed fist to signal a stop. Neither of them recognized the sign and nearly ran into the back of me.

  "Sshhh," I whispered. "Get down and be quiet."

  "Why?" asked Morgan, her voice carrying over the silence.

  Sky gave me a shrug and a smile, then turned towards Morgan and put her finger to her lips. Sky motioned for her to crouch down behind some bushes, making the point to Morgan to do so quietly. With a grim sigh, I turned back around and started scanning the area ahead of us. We had been following the river and walking along the shore. The sound of the rushing water covered a great deal of noise, so I hadn't immediately noticed that the area had gone quiet. It was an error that had nearly been disastrous.

  Through a gap in the trees, I could see movement in a clearing next to the river. Straining to see through the gaps, I leaned forward and peered out from the shadows. Ahead of us on the sandy shore of a small inlet were four zombies. Since they were bent over the body of a young man, I couldn't tell which type they were. It really didn’t matter to me, though. They were in our way and we would have to take them out in order to continue on.

  Raising my M-4 to my shoulder, I brought the ACOG to my eye. That moment was when I realized the massive difference it made in having only one eye. I suddenly had the realization that the scope had become my entire focus. There was always a certain amount of distraction by having my non-firing eye closed before, but that was all gone. My clarity and aiming ability was amplified. Maybe it was one of the ways that my mind was compensating for losing my left eye. Whatever it was, it gave me remarkable sharpness on the scope.

  Exhaling softly, I centered the reticule on the first zombie and gently squeezed the trigger. The soft coughing of the suppressed weapon had barely faded from my ears when I was already lining up my next shot and squeezing the trigger. Time seemed to slow down and my focus was absolute. In less than five seconds, I had eliminated all four targets before they even realized that I was there. They fell in a heap across the body of the man on the ground. Almost as an afterthought, I put one round through his head as well, just in case.

  Motioning for the others to stay put, I edged cautiously out of the bushes and approached the fallen bodies. Keeping my weapon ready, I swept the area as I got closer. I was expecting the worst, but I wasn't really prepared for what I found. The young man that the dead had been feeding on was tied to the rock that he was lying against. His hands and feet were bound with wire and he was left here for the dead to find. This was not an accident. Someone had done this intentionally, and left this kid to die. Should I worry about myself when this kind of thing no longer shocks me?

  Whoever had done this to him was likely somewhere nearby. Unless they were passing through the area, it was likely that we were near some type of camp. Any group of survivors that would do this to someone definitely wasn't on my visiting list. In fact, I would feel much better if we didn't go anywhere near the place. I wasn't exactly looking forward to finding myself bound and tied to a rock, waiting for the dead to come strip the flesh from my bones.

  I stood up and brought my weapon tight against my shoulder. I decided to sweep the area, just in case. Someone sick enough to do this to a person might very well be the type to stick around and watch. As I was turning to my left, I heard the unmistakable click of a revolver's hammer being cocked. Before I could turn to face it, I heard a voice break the silence.

  "Don't you move, mister," said a shaky voice. "I'll kill you where you stand."

  I turned slowly to face my new adversary and found three of them. All were young men in their early to mid twenties. They all wore shabby clothes and had the rough complexion that spoke of harsh drug use. Methamphetamines, I would guess by the look of them. The lackluster look in their eyes and their jerky movements told me that they were "tweaking" as they called it. Despite being high on drugs, they were very dangerous and unpredictable. I dealt with people like them all throughout my career as a Corrections Officer. They would be no different. Drastic mood shifts, dangerous instability and tendencies towards violence would be expected. I just hoped that they hadn't seen the women.

  "Drop yer weapons and keep yer hands where we kin see 'em," said the one on the left.

  He was missing most of his teeth, had greasy red hair and a sickly pallor. I also noted that he wore a necklace made out of fingers. He was holding an AK-47 with the extended magazine. The balding blonde in the middle had a long stringy mullet with a hair line that was well behind his ears. It was a greasy hairstyle that wasn’t much of a mullet. It was more of a skullet. He was armed with one of the biggest damned handguns I'd ever seen. It was some sort of heavy-duty revolver that I wasn't familiar with. Although I would be able to better identify it if I hadn't been staring directly down the barrel.

  The one on the right was a swarthy dark-headed kid with skin that looked like the surface of the moon from acne scars. He was wearing the rattiest mullet I'd ever seen and had more piercings than I could easily count. He was also holding a modified pump shotgun. It had been sawed off right at the end of the ammo tube. At this range, it would probably cut me in half, depending on what ammo he had in it. It was safe to assume the worst.

  "He said drop yer fuckin' weapons, asshole," said Mullet-head.

  "Easy fellas," I said, lowering my rifle. "No need to get violent."

  “Who are you supposed to be?” asked Ratty Red. “Dances With Zombies? Check out his injun boots.”

  I didn’t dignify that with an answer.

  "You killed our pets," snapped Skullet.

  I could only assume that they meant the zombies. What kind of idiot would keep those things as pets? Well, the three in front of me had already answered that question, hadn't they? They were starting to get more agitated by the second, so I thought I'd better comply. Well, for now, anyway. Slowly, I placed my rifle on the ground, followed by my shotgun. Then I gently removed the PMR-30's and set them beside the shot gun. I was reaching for my pistol belt when Sky stepped out of the bushes.

  "Drop your guns," she yelled, leveling her rifle.

  The three idiots turned and faced her, pointing their guns at her.

  "We got you outgunned, P
ocahontas," said Mullet-head. "Drop yer gun and we won't shoot you."

  "Don't shoot her," whined Ratty Red. "I wanna have some fun with her first."

  "I'm first," snapped Skullet.

  "I ain't goin' after you nasty fucks," said Mullet-head.

  Reaching for the only weapon I had readily to hand, I slowly wrapped my fingers around the hilt of my Gladius sword. When I made the decision to act, it was like a switch was flipped in my mind. Time seemed to slow down as I launched myself at them, drawing the blade as I moved. I was upon them before they even knew I was coming.

  With my left hand, I shoved the barrel of Mullet-head's shotgun down and slashed out with the blade in my right. The shotgun boomed as it fired into the dirt at his feet and my blade sliced to the bone across his left shoulder and into his neck. He fell gurgling to the ground as his life's blood arced high into the air. I was moving toward my second target before his body had hit the ground.

  Reversing the blade, I slashed downward and removed both of Skullet's hands at the wrists. They fell to the ground with the pistol still gripped firmly in their grasp. I spun rapidly to my left and dropped him with a slash that nearly took his head off, exposing his spine and spraying blood all over the front of his shirt. He fell over backwards with a wide-eyed shocked expression frozen on his face. My momentum carried me onward to my next target.

  Ratty Red tried to turn towards me and bring his AK around to take me out. Unfortunately for him, I was faster than he was. I guess all of my years working out and training beat his years of drugs and debasement. I was going to get to him before he could shoot me and he knew it. I could see it in his eyes.