Ragnarok Rising Page 8

  I briefly considered trying with the Beowulf, but thought better of it. Despite my propensity for large explosions, I was going to have to find another way. This was going to call for subtlety and stealth, and those weren’t exactly my strong suits. An idea began to form in my head and if I had the right supplies on hand, I just might be able to pull this off.

  I knew from experience that pontoon boats had cabinets beneath the seats for storing fishing gear, first aid kits and things like that. Opening the one at the front of the boat, I found several life-jackets, an emergency kit and some snorkeling gear. Grabbing the flippers, mask and snorkel, I tossed them on the deck and opened the emergency kit. Inside it was several space blankets, a flare gun with about a dozen flares, a whistle, a small hand-crank powered radio and a package of glow-sticks. I added them to the pile on the deck.

  The next locker contained just what I was looking for; a couple of large dry-bags[2] and extra mooring ropes. Those joined the rest of the stuff on the deck. After I was finished, I started removing my gear and equipment, placing it on the deck beside me. While I was removing my boots, Sky looked at me and shook her head.

  “You’re not planning on swimming in, are you?” she asked, frowning.

  “Got a better idea?” I replied, grinning.

  “We could take the boat in close and drop you off,” suggested Morgan.

  “Too much noise,” I countered. “That will attract way too much attention.”

  “Won’t there be dead in the water?” asked Sky.

  “Maybe,” I said, starting to place my gear in the dry-bags. “I’ll just have to be careful. I can’t think of a better way to sneak ashore.”

  “Won’t all your gear weigh you down?” asked Morgan.

  “I’m going to put what I need in the dry-bags and tie life-vests to it. I can swim ashore and tow it along behind me. So long as I go slow and don’t run into trouble, I should be able to slip ashore unnoticed.”

  “What then?” asked Sky. “Do you plan on rescuing the guy and swimming back out here?”

  “No,” I said grinning. “I’m going to set a distraction and when the dead go after that, I want you to bring the boat in to the dock over there and pick us up.”

  “What kind of distraction?” asked Morgan.

  “Hopefully, the kind that explode,” I said, chuckling. “We’ll need a big one to get the dead’s undivided attention.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Sky, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, me too,” I said, grinning broadly.

  I decided to only take the weapons that I would need. I grabbed the M-4 and the PMR-30’s because they were silenced. I decided against the Beowulf and the Keltec shotgun because they just made way too much noise. It was the same for the XVR. As comforting as it would be to have them with me, I couldn’t afford to bring that much attention down on myself. In fact, it would be best if I didn’t have to fire a shot, at all. Not that that ever happens.

  I also added my body armor, pistol belt with the sword and my boots to the bag. Just because I was hoping to not run into trouble didn’t mean I wasn’t going to plan for it. I loaded all six of my magazines for the M-4 and eight magazines for the PRM-30’s. Then it was time to make myself an improvised weapon, just in case I ran into something in the water. In the third locker, I found a gigging pole[3]. I carefully removed the tip and tossed it back in the tool box. Then I set to attaching my combat knife to it with para-cord, fashioning myself a crude spear. It wasn’t ideal, but it should do in a pinch.

  I looped a length of rope through the D-ring on the two dry-bags and tied it securely to four of the life preservers. Then I checked the seal on the bags to make sure no water was going to seep inside and double checked the knots on the rope. Once I was as confident as I could possibly be, I slipped the flippers on my feet and reached for the goggles. I checked them for fit and for cracks, and then spit into the lens to keep it from fogging up.

  I did one more check over my gear and headed for the swimming gate at the front of the boat. Taking my spear, I gauged it to be about six feet long. Dipping it into the water, I extended it out as far as I could reach and didn’t feel it hit anything solid. Satisfied that I was in deep enough water to not be grabbed immediately by a zombie on the bottom, I decided that now was as good of a time as any.

  “Keep your weapons ready and watch for my signal,” I said. “I’ll launch a flare when I’m ready for you to come in. When I do, come in fast. Be ready to get out of there in a hurry.”

  “Got it,” said Sky, heading over to the controls.

  “I’ll watch for the signal,” said Morgan.

  “Wish me luck,” I said.

  I slipped the bags of gear into the water and held onto the rope, just to make certain that the life-jackets would support the weight. They handled it easily, so I tied a loop in the end of the rope and held onto it. Adjusting the goggles and fitting the snorkel in my mouth, I slipped off into the water and began treading water. The water was frigid, reminding me that most rivers and lakes in Missouri are fed by springs. Spring water is always cold. It took me a few moments of treading water before I grew accustomed to the temperature and began to relax.

  Once I was confident that the current wasn’t going to just sweep me away, I let go of the side of the boat and started kicking towards shore. I was careful to watch for any sign of movement anywhere around me, especially from below. I knew that the closer to shore that I got, the shallower the water would get. In the murky water, it was difficult to see much farther than a few feet in any direction.

  I could feel the gentle pull of the current, but I knew that it had to be moving me much more than it felt like. After a while, I surfaced just to get my bearings and was surprised to see how far I’d moved. Although I had only traveled about fifty meters towards the shore, I had been pulled almost a hundred meters down the river. I was about to take a breath and continue on when I felt something that nearly made my heart leap out of my throat. Something touched my flipper.

  Whirling around and bringing the spear into position, I watched the murky water beneath me for any signs of movement. After a moment, I saw a large catfish roll up out of the darkness and disappear back into the gloom. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when I saw another shape moving in the gloom. It was a hand.

  I could tell from the look of it that it had been submerged for quite a while. Not only did it look waterlogged, but it also seemed ragged and pale with chunks of flesh missing. I didn’t have to ponder that for very long when a couple of perch darted in and started eating pieces of the flesh that was loosely clinging to the hand.

  So much for eating fish, I thought. I wasn’t about to eat fish that had been eating the dead. I wasn’t sure what type of diseases the dead were carrying, but I was certain that I didn’t want to risk eating it. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was something that was happening with the fish everywhere or if it was just a localized thing. It was probably everywhere.

  I started kicking harder towards shallower water and keeping a close eye on the spot where I had seen the hand. When the water cleared enough that I could start to see the bottom, I stopped and kicked only enough to keep me in place. I waited until I could see the outline of the creature that was slowly lumbering after me through the water.

  Gauging the distance, I waited for it to get closer before I struck. Before it could get into grabbing range, I lunged out with the spear and skewered it through the face. I shoved as hard as I could and twisted, just to make sure I did sufficient damage to put it down. When I yanked the spear free, it fell over backwards and vanished in the darkness of the water.

  I waited for a few moments longer; just to see if anymore would appear. When nothing else did, I continued swimming towards the shore. As the water got shallower, the current lessened until it was no longer an issue. Soon, I was able to put my feet on the ground and stand with my head barely out of the water. I used the snorkel to continue to breathe while staying as hi
dden as possible.

  Once I was certain that there were no dead in the immediate area, I began wading ashore. I crouched down behind a partially submerged building that had been flooded by the swollen river. In the shadow of that building, I began unpacking my gear. I quietly removed the flippers, mask and snorkel, and then placed them in the dry bag. The life-jackets, I just cut loose. They were unnecessary weight. I watched them for a brief moment as they lazily drifted away.

  Putting my boots back on, I laced them up and tucked my pant-legs into them. Then I replaced my body armor and returned my weapons to their proper places, checking the loads as I went. Untying the para-cord from my makeshift spear, I returned the knife to its scabbard on my leg. Tucking the dry bag into my pack, I secured the straps and slipped it onto my back. Dropping the wooden shaft in the water, I crouched and headed inland towards the nearest building. As luck would have it, it was a gas station. There might be something there that would do the trick.

  As I approached the garage doors I noticed that although they were both shut, one of them wasn't shut all the way. There was a gap of about two inches at the bottom of the door. That had to mean that it wasn't locked. Reaching down, I grasped the rusty handle and lifted. At first it resisted, and then it began to shudder upwards with a soft groan of metal. I lifted slowly to avoid making too much noise.

  Once I was certain that it was high enough for me to crawl through, I scanned the area and looked for any sign of the dead. Seeing nothing, I activated the tactical light on my M-4 and slid inside. Light from the window panes on the garage door was more than enough to see by inside the bays. One side was empty and had the large drain grating in the floor indicating it was a wash bay. The other side had a hydraulic lift that held a red SUV suspended about six feet up. Tool boxes and a large work bench adorned the entire back wall.

  At the back of the room was a doorway that led to a parts storage room and a small bathroom. It was filthy and smelled of engine grease, but otherwise empty. I moved back out into the bay and had to duck quickly behind a tool box when I saw movement through the windows. I peered over the top of the box and saw four of the dead slowly lumbering by. They looked like Shamblers but there was no way to be certain. If one of them was a Shrieker, then I could find myself surrounded in a very short amount of time.

  One of them began acting differently, turning its head from side to side as if it was looking for something. When it began to turn towards the still open bay door that I had entered through, alarm bells began to scream in my head. It was a goddamned Tracker. It was going to follow my scent right inside and the others would follow it, eager to share in whatever kill it could make. Things were about to get very interesting.

  There was a short concrete wall that separated the two bays. I duck-walked over to it and crouched low. Careful to remain concealed, I peered slowly around the edge of the wall. The Tracker was crouching down and looking around beneath the door. I held my breath hoping that it wouldn't follow me inside. Turns out I was wasting my time. I sighed softly as it began to scrabble under the door with morbid eagerness for the kill.

  I transitioned to my PMR-30 and let the M-4 dangle from its strap. I waited until it stood up inside the door and the others were beginning to crawl inside behind it. While it was the only one that could see me, I leaned out and leveled the pistol. I saw recognition on the creature's face as it started to snarl at its prey. Before its lips had more than started to curl into a sneer, I squeezed the trigger sending a high velocity .22 Magnum hollow point screaming through its cerebellum. Gore sprayed all over the door behind it as the powerful round burrowed into the wooden frame of the door.

  As the creature's body fell, I was already beginning to aim at the next one that was scrambling to get to its feet. I fired twice, hitting it in the left eye and right between the mouth and the nose. It fell in a heap and didn't make a sound. My next shot struck the third one in the top of the head, before it even had the chance to rise. As I was lining up my shot on the fourth one, it let out a blood curdling shriek that I knew would summon every zombie within a hundred yards of us. I fired twice more, cutting the horrific shriek off mid-wail.

  "Fuck!" I hissed, turning to head for the front part of the garage.

  I wanted to get inside the office and see if there was anything that I could use before the horde arrived. I ducked inside and shut the heavy door that led back into the garage. If the dead came looking for the sound of the shriek, then I didn't want to be in the garage when they got there. I also needed to find something useful and get the Hel out of there in as little time as possible. My mind began to race with possibilities as I glanced around the small office.

  Candy and soda in the darkened cooler was of little or no use to me. I did take a brief moment to snag a handful of chocolate bars and stuff them into my cargo pocket. There were oil cans, bottles of transmission and brake fluid, anti-freeze and even window washer solution, but I didn't see anything that I could immediately use. Then I spotted something that made me smile. It was a rack of propane tanks. I grabbed them all and headed back into the garage.

  I sat them all beside the hydraulic lift with one exception. I placed it directly beneath the lift. I knew that the lift was operated by hydraulic pressure and could be lowered, even without electricity. I wouldn't be able to lift it again, but I could lower it. I quickly eyeballed the spot where the lift would hit the ground and positioned the propane bottle so that the valve was directly in its path. Then I searched around for one last item. I found it in the parts storage room. It was a box of flares.

  Snagging a handful, I tucked them into my cargo pocket. Then I grabbed two more and headed back into the garage. I still hadn't seen any sign of undead reinforcements, so I kept my frantic work pace going knowing full well that I might only have a few moments longer. I ignited the two flares and dropped them beside the propane tank. Next, I grabbed a grease rag and headed for the lever that operated the hydraulic lift. Tying the rag around the handle, I put just enough tension on it to depress the handle very slightly. The SUV began to descend slowly. I estimated that it would take about two minutes for it to hit the bottom at this rate.

  Satisfied, I tied an extra knot in the rag just to make certain that it didn’t come loose and headed for the open garage door. I didn't have time to waste and slid past the dead bodies that were nearly obstructing the opening. Rolling to my feet, I saw two undead just coming around the corner of the building. My mental countdown was running and I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere near this place when the SUV's weight came down on that valve.

  I snap-fired twice, hitting them both in the forehead. I was already running away in the direction of the grocery store before the bodies had even stopped moving. I ran with my arms swinging and the PMR-30 gripped tightly in my right hand. The clock was ticking and I estimated that I would need to be at least a hundred yards away to escape the coming explosion. There was enough propane in those tanks to take the building down to the foundation, unless there was gas in the ground tanks.

  "Oh, shit!" I gasped, and pushed to run even harder.

  I hadn't considered the possibility of gas in the tanks. My estimate of a hundred yards suddenly seemed entirely too close. I turned to the left and headed back towards the edge of the water. My mind was screaming out the countdown in my head as I continued to push my still aching legs. I wasn't going to be setting any track records, but I was covering a good amount of distance.

  "Forty five seconds," I hissed through clenched teeth.

  The pain in my legs was beginning to grow exponentially. I wasn't fully healed and was pushing myself extremely hard. If there was a time for my body to fail, this was most certainly not it. I couldn't quit, now. Up ahead, I saw the walls of a concrete building. It looked solid enough to shield me from a powerful explosion. It was also about the best option I had for cover that I could see.

  My mental countdown had reached twenty seconds and I was less than ten yards from the perceived safety of the building
when the ground beneath my feet shook. I felt the heat wash over me as an explosion shattered the stillness of this village of the dead. I reached the edge of the building and dropped onto my side as I slid behind it, covering my head for the aftershocks. Despite my precautions, I wasn't even remotely ready for what happened next.

  It felt as if the ground had leapt out from under me as the world turned orange and the roar like an angry dragon bellowed through the air. The massive explosion sent flaming debris raining down all around and shattered glass on every building that I could see. Massive clouds of oily black smoke billowed around the area, drifting like the tendrils of some Chtuloid beast from the darkest tales of H.P. Lovecraft. It was eerily surreal.

  I sat up and looked around. Next to me, a piece of flaming metal was smoldering in the grass. I hadn't even seen it fall. Staying in the sheltering shadow of the building, I leaned out to see if my distraction had worked. All around, I could see the dead heading that way like bugs drawn to the electric-blue light on a porch, with equal result. The closest dead wandered right into the burning debris searching for the movement that the dancing flames provided.

  Taking this as my cue, I headed off towards the grocery store, keeping as many buildings between me and the dead as possible. By the time I reached the main street that ran through town, most of the dead had stumbled off in search of the source of the big boom that had captured their attention. I only hoped that it kept their attention for a little while longer.

  I crouched low and darted across the street to the side that the grocery store was on. Skirting around behind the building, I headed for the loading dock doors. I only hoped that whoever had been on the roof was watching. If he wasn't, then it would be almost impossible for me to get inside without a lot of noise, especially if whoever was inside had barricaded all of the doors. It was safe to assume that he had. It's what I would have done in his place. Secure the entrances and keep the dead outside.