Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (15 page)

But reality snapped me back out of my reverie.
The bus depot was crawling with zombies. One city bus was on its side and burning. Two others were crashed together and still smoldering from the fire that had engulfed them both. Another was sticking out of the side of the building, collapsing part of the roof of the bus station. But one bus stood out from the rest.

This bus stood away from the others and zombies swarmed around it like hornets around a nest.
On the roof, I could see two prone figures and one man standing. One of the prone bodies was in patrol gray and the other was in jail black. The one on his feet was also in jail black. It was Cal Sanders. Cal was defending the top of the bus with an e-tool
[10]
. Cal was swinging it like a battle axe, crunching the skull of any zombie who tried to climb on top.

Cal
was heavily muscled, like a body builder. When he hit a zombie, it was with tremendous force. Zombies that he struck rarely rose again because their skull was either crushed or cleaved in two. But even this powerhouse couldn’t last forever. I could see that he was tiring. All in all, there had to be close to a hundred zombies surrounding the bus he was on. I knew the trick I used to rescue Southard wouldn’t work here. There were just too damned many of them to try it. I needed a new plan if I was going to pull this off.

I knew
Cal was a combat vet. He’d only been out of the Army for a few years, having served in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Even better, Cal was an infantryman. I had to get him off of there. He was too damned valuable to leave behind. We needed him and his experience if we were going to have a shot at surviving this.

I braked to a complete stop.
Close to twenty zombies instantly surrounded us and began trying to find an opening. They were beating on the glass and pulling on the door handle. Several of them were even trying to climb up on top of the hood. I ignored them and turned to look at Spec-4.

“Tr
ade me places,” I said, grinning.

“You’re
not
going out there.”

“I wasn’t really planning on it, just yet.”

She looked at me like I was going out of my mind, but didn’t argue. I couldn’t help but smile. I crawled into the back seat and she took the driver’s seat. Then I grabbed a rucksack and started loading it. I shoved in a Beretta and some extra mags, several mags for an M-16 and a couple of grenades. Then I tossed in a fresh battery for the radio and a first aid kit. Grabbing an M-16, I secured it to the rucksack with straps.

“Ok, beautiful,” I said, with a smile. “Here’s what I need you to do.”

Once I explained my plan, she gave me a look that said I was off my meds or something. But, she just shrugged and pulled the transmission into low gear. I was surprised at the suddenness of her acceleration. The big engine roared to life and powered its way through the crowd, grinding over several zombies in the process. We bounced over the ones that had been in front of us and knocked the two off of the hood.

“So far, so good,” she said, gripping the wheel tightly.

Instead of turning into the bus station, we continued on down the street. We shot past the bar I’d longed for and jumped the curb, knocking zombies sprawling off of our roof. Spec-4 had to be careful to avoid abandoned cars. One car was up on the curb and still had two zombies inside of it. As we shot past it, it appeared to me that they were eating what looked like a dog.

When we reached the next street, we
screeched hard left next to a big multi-plex movie theater. This shook free the remaining hangers-on and we continued on one street to the south. Spec-4 took another screeching hard left and shifted out of low gear. Then I popped the turret hatch open and stood up, admittedly not nearly as fast as Spec-4 would have done it. A quick glance showed me that no zombies were on the vehicle, so I pulled out the rucksack. Looping my hand around the strap so I wouldn’t lose it, I pulled out my M-16 and readied it.

Spec-4 slid sideways into the bus station parking lot, narrowly missing a bus.
We slammed into a knot of about thirty zombies next to the bus that Cal was standing on. Then I leaned back and threw the rucksack. Time seemed to slow down almost to a stop. I held my breath, praying my throw would be good. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

It arched high into the air, and I could clearly see
that it was going to sail completely over the bus. I’d failed to take into account the added momentum of the Humvee. Just as I was opening my mouth to curse, a miracle happened. Sanders had seen what we were doing and ran for the flying bag. It was going to be too high, but Sanders used his e-tool and snagged a strap as it flew over him. He nearly fell over the edge, but regained his footing and pulled the bag into his arms.

Sanders looked like a kid in a candy store as his fingers wrapped around the grip of the M-16.
Then we were screeching around the corner and heading west to make another lap. A large group of zombies were pursuing us, so I fired a fragmentation round from my M-203. The hollow “thump” sounded and the explosion scattered the crowd. Some didn’t rise, and many of them were now
Crawlers
or
Shamblers
instead of
Sprinters
. That was good news for us.

The explosion flipped over an abandoned car and ignited the gas tank, engulfing several downed zombies.
As we rounded the corner for another pass, I could already hear the report of Sanders’ M-16. The big combat vet was wasting no time in raining down death upon the zombies. Between us and Sanders, we might take out enough of the dead to make this work.

“
Cal, can you hear me?” I said into the radio.

“Loud and clear!”

“Good to hear from you, dude. If we can get the heat off of you, can you get your injured into that bus?”

“Maybe.
Why?”

As we shot through the bus station again, Sanders lobbed a grenade into a mob of the pursuing
Sprinters
. Several zombies flew through the air and landed in a tangled mess of ruined flesh. They weren’t down for good, but they were immobile which was just as good. So long as they were out of the fight, that was just fine with me.

“If you can get them into the bus, I want you to drive it back to the jail.”

“Let me check.”

I could see him rip off the vent cap on the roof and look inside.
A few seconds later, he was up again. Once more, we screeched off the parking lot and headed back to the west, towards the movie theater.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think so.
The keys are in it and the roof cap should be big enough to slip through. It’ll be a tight fit, though.”

“Is it clear inside?”

“It looks like it is. I didn’t see anything.”

“Good,” I said. “We’ll try to keep their attention on us. Get your people inside and get the fuck out of here.”

“Want me to follow you?”

“Negatory, Ghostrider,” I said.
“We have other places to be, so just head for the jail. Park the bus against the front steps and block them off.”

“A rolling barricade.
Nice.”

“Call Master Control and tell them to have a team waiting for you at the front to let you in and cover you.”

“Got it,” said Sanders.

“How bad are your wounded?”

“No bites. I’m pretty sure that Anderson has a concussion and Reynolds just fainted. He’s fine other than that.”

“Well, wake his dumb ass up and get him to help you.”

“That’s a good copy,” replied Sanders, chuckling.

Mindy
Anderson was jail staff and was on C-shift. She was a good officer. Greg Reynolds was not. His only talent lay in informing on his fellow officers. I wasn’t surprised that he’d fainted. I was surprised that Cal hadn’t shoved him off the bus and into the zombies. I probably would have. Considering how much he liked to inform on other officers, I’m sure he’d have been a
Shrieker
if he’d become a zombie. He’d be ratting out fellow officers, even in death.

“See you when we get back,” I said.

“Wylie,” said Sanders.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for coming for us.”

“Anytime, brother.
You’d have done the same for me.”

“Bet your ass, I would.”

This time around, we made as much noise as we could. I started firing into the crowd as we hit the parking lot. I was only dropping a zombie less than half the time, since accurate fire from a moving Humvee was extremely difficult. Even then, not all of them stayed down. Those things were worse than cockroaches. Unless you hit them just right, they just kept coming. They were really starting to piss me off.

The only problem with my plan was that it had worked a little better than I’d anticipated.
Zombies were converging on us from every direction, now. Another shot from the M-203 sent bodies flying around the parking lot. Then I heard the big bus rumble to life. I continued to pour on the fire to give Cal as much time as possible. I couldn’t let him get swarmed again, or he’d be stuck.

Sanders accelerated out of the lot’s south exit and turned right as we turned left on the other side.
Then he turned right onto the next street as we turned left. We passed each other going opposite directions, him towards the jail and us farther south to find the Sheriff. Sanders gave me a big grin and a wave as he drove by. I shot him a salute and returned the grin. We lost sight of him as we crested a hill. Then I jumped back inside and started re-sealing the hatch.

“Want to drive?” asked Spec-4.

“Nah, you’re doing just fine.”

“By the way,” she said. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For calling me beautiful.”

“No problem,” I said, smiling. “You’re like a Valkyrie.”

She smiled, then.

“Just don’t carry me off to Valhalla, yet,” I said. “Like I told you; things to do, promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.”

She turned her head to say something, just as I saw movement to her left.

“Look out!”

She locked up the brakes and we screamed to a stop, just in the nick of time.
We’d narrowly avoided a young girl of about six. She ran toward us, screaming in terror. Without thinking, I dove out of my door in time to see six
Sprinters
chasing her. I snapped up my M-16 and started taking shots. The little girl ran to me and grabbed my legs, sobbing hysterically.

“Get in the car!” I yelled to her.

The poor kid was terrified and clung to my legs like a drowning person to a life preserver. I had no choice but to keep shooting. I killed five of them before my bolt locked back. Of all the times to run out of ammo, this had to be the worst. I hadn’t changed my magazine after the firefight at the bus station. I could hear Spec-4 screaming behind me but I couldn’t make out the words. Then it was on me. I didn’t even have time to swing the weapon like a club.

We hit the ground in a tangled mess; me, the zombie and the little girl.
Fingers clawed at me and a savaged face snapped at mine, trying to sink its teeth into my exposed flesh. Both of its lips had been chewed off, as well as the skin above the left eye. I could see the skull showing through. It was missing a couple teeth and smelled horrible. I could see bits of flesh still stuck between its gnashing teeth.

I shoved back with all the strength I could muster, and drove it back far enough to get the M-16 between us.
Then I jammed the front sight post of my M-16 into its mouth and shoved as hard as I could, trying to force it back even farther. Most of the left side of its face came away stuck to the weapon, exposing a gruesome bloody skull. The face was all the more horrifying, since it was still snapping its jaws trying to bite me. Spec-4 jumped out and tried to get a clear shot, but we were too close. We were tangled together and rolling around too much for her to safely take the shot.

“Get the girl!” I yelled.

Spec-4 hesitated for only a split-second, then pulled the girl away and hustled her into the back seat. Once the girl was clear, I began kicking and shoving furiously, trying to separate us. The rancid flap of skin that was stuck to my weapon went flying away and hit the side of the Humvee with a wet smacking sound.

Suddenly, it lunged forward and sank its teeth into my chest.
I wanted to scream, awaiting the agonizing pain of it tearing into my flesh. But the pain didn’t come. It dawned on me that it had bitten into my Interceptor vest. Relief washed over me and I was
so
glad I had decided to wear it. However, just because it couldn’t bite through the vest didn’t keep it from biting my face, neck or arms. I needed to get this thing away from me, quickly.

Reversing the direction of my weapon, I slammed the fore grip into the throat of the zombie and knocked it off of me.
As it fell away, I heard the sharp crack of a pistol from behind me. Three shots rang out and obliterated the zombie’s skull. It fell to the ground, not moving this time. Black ichor seeped from the ragged hole that had been the top of its skull. Brains were splattered across the concrete, looking like so much rancid cottage cheese.