Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (23 page)

“Do you two need a private moment?” asked Spec-4.

“Better not,” chimed in Southard.
“He’d probably break the bus, and we still need it.”

“Oh, you’re funny,” replied Sanders, smiling.

“Yeah, but looks aren’t everything,” I added, grinning.

National had cars abandoned sporadically all down the road in front of us, but the center lane was mostly clear.
Sanders swerved into the turn lane and mashed the accelerator to the floor, accelerating hard. We shot past a burger joint and an art supply place on the right. We were uncomfortably close to the college campus, but we didn’t have much choice in the matter. Our only other choices were residential streets, and they were notoriously narrow.

A zombie in an old Army Field Jacket and a Jamaican hat shambled out into our path.
Sanders’ foot never left the gas. The zombie appeared to be an African-American male in his mid to late forties before he got zombified. We slammed into him with bone crunching force. In fact, we hit him so hard it completely knocked him out of his boots. I could see them on the road behind us, rolling along.

“Son of a bitch,” yelled Southard. “You knocked that one clean out of his shoes.”

“I think the feet are still in them,’ said EMT, looking a little green around the gills.

The big gray juggernaut blasted the hapless zombie close to a hundred feet through the air before he bounced to a stop in the parking lot of a taco place.
It practically disintegrated on impact. It didn’t even twitch, after that. I’m pretty sure that there wasn’t an unbroken bone in his body and most of his intestines were now
out
-testines.

Up ahead, where National becomes divided by a concrete barrier, there were zombies everywhere.
This mob was even bigger than the last one. There had to be hundreds of them, maybe even over a thousand. They were completely blocking the street for almost an entire block. With that many of them, it would be like running into a brick wall. We couldn’t get very far before we stalled and died, first figuratively then literally. There was no way we were getting through that crowd, no matter how fast we were going.

“Right or left?” yelled Sanders.

Right went into the campus, near the dorms and left went into a residential area. It was damned if you do, damned if you don’t. The dorms would be swarming with un-dead, while the residential area was clogged with vehicles and took us farther away from our intended destination. The narrow streets could easily become impassible with little or no warning.

“Left,” I shouted, after a moment’s hesitation.

Brakes groaned and rubber squealed in protest as we slowed down enough to take the left turn at a small side street. I didn’t catch the name of it, but it was really narrow. In fact, it was almost too narrow. We were knocking side mirrors off of cars on both sides of the street, at the same time. All along both sides of the street were older houses that had been converted into apartments for college students.

Spec-4 ran to the back of the bus and opened a window.
Then she pulled out a fragmentation grenade and yanked out the pin. With a smile, she tossed the grenade out the window and it bounced along behind us, and rolled beneath a parked car. When it detonated, it launched the car into the air and ignited it. It crashed back down and exploded, catching three or four cars around it on fire.

The group of zombies just kept coming, running right into the fire.
They didn’t even slow down. The fire engulfed them as they ran into it, and they emerged from the other side as living torches. Well,
sort of
living. Maybe
quasi-living
is the word I’m looking for. Anyway, the fire took its toll pretty rapidly. They began to fall to the ground, burning where they lay. A few of them even fell into debris that littered the street, igniting it as well. My last glimpse of the area was of a rapidly spreading fire, and zombies losing interest in us as the explosions scattered them about. We had broken the pursuit.

Sanders kept going until we reached
Fremont Avenue and then headed back to the south. There were a few zombies in the yards and driveways, but nothing like the horde we’d just left behind. It was painfully obvious that we were going to have to avoid that part of town. The older houses along this street were well kept with nice yards. This had been a nice neighborhood before Hel came to town.

Spec-4 and I had been supremely lucky when we went after the Sheriff.
If that horde had found us when we were on the top of the parking garage, we’d never have made if off of there. It made a certain amount of sense, though. Over twenty thousand students enrolled in MSU every semester. No wonder there were so many zombies around.

Even ten percent was still over two thousand zombies, and I’m sure that well over ten percent were turned.
We may never know the actual numbers, but I’d bet that closer to fifty percent didn’t make it out. Gods forbid it should be higher than that, but it very well could be. It wasn’t something I really wanted to think about, too much.

If there are any more survivors trapped on that campus, then may the Gods have mercy
on them. There was no way we could get to them without a helicopter. Even then it would only be possible if they could get to a roof. Otherwise, it would just be suicide. The MSU campus belonged to the dead, now. The living didn’t stand a chance.

As we approached Sunshine, I reached over and tapped Sanders on the arm.

“Slow down a sec, will you?” I asked him.

Cal
did as I asked, but looked at me quizzically.

“What’s going on?” asked Spec-4.

“Just a hunch,” I said. “Sanders, take a right at the next street. The one at the four way stop sign.”

Sanders did as I asked, and took the next side street.
There were only a couple zombies on this street and they seemed content to ignore us. They were dining on an old man in a wheel chair and barely even looked up as we shot past them. It was the electric type, with a control built onto the arm of the chair.

“Check out the dude in the wheel chair,” said Sanders
, pointing.

“Yeah,” marveled Southard. “Where the
fuck
did he think he was going?”

“Brings new meaning to meals on wheels,” said
Sanders, shaking his head.

“When we get back to National,” I said. “Cross it slowly and try not to make a lot of noise.”

The air was thick with tension on the bus as Cal eased out into National and slowly picked his way between cars. There was enough room to pass between them without hitting any. I silently breathed a prayer of thanks for that. I had the distinct feeling that we didn’t want to get stuck in this area.

“What is it?” asked Southard.

“Just a hunch,” I replied. “St. John’s Hospital is just south. I’ve got a bad feeling that it’ll be crawling with zombies. If we’d gone down Sunshine, we’d have gone right past it.”

As we crossed the center lane,
St. John’s Hospital came into view. The sight scared the living crap out of me. Spec-4 gasped. It was such a scene of horrific carnage, that no one could believe what they were seeing.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Southard.

“Oh my God,” whispered Ian Shane.

Part of the hospital was burning.
I could see the tail rotor of the Life Flight Helicopter sticking out of one of the upper floors. One entire wing of the hospital was engulfed in flames. The entire intersection at National and Sunshine was blocked off with cars. The place was literally crawling with zombies. There were too many of them to count. There were zombies by the thousands.

“If we’d gone that way, we’d be dead,” said Southard.

“Or worse,” said Bowman. “I’m not keen on the idea of becoming a zombie.”

We made it across National and into another residential area without attracting the horde.
There was still the occasional zombie, but nothing in large numbers. We all agreed that sticking to the back streets was the best course of action. Our only close call was when we crossed the next major road on our path.

Where we crossed
was just down the road from a shopping center, a grocery store and Bass Pro Shops Outdoor World to our south with a high school to the north. There was another mega crowd of zombies near Bass Pro and a somewhat smaller horde near the High School. Amazingly, we didn’t attract either of them. Thank whatever deity was watching over us at that particular moment.

I was getting the idea that we needed to avoid places like that, in anything short of an APC
[14]
. Even then, you’d better have plenty of ammo. As the infection continued to spread in Springfield, the ranks of the dead were swelling. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that containment wasn’t an option anymore. Assuming that it ever really was.

As we came to a stop sign, I saw an apartment complex for retired people.
The road we were on ended there. I knew that left would take us to Sunshine and right would go back towards the jail. So, we turned south again and headed for Sunshine. We were starting to see a large cloud of black smoke to the west. Sunshine was littered with abandoned cars and zombies prowled alone or in small groups. A few rushed the bus, but we kept going. Sanders still made every effort to hit any of them that got in his path.

As we approached the intersection at Sunshine and
Kansas, we saw the source of the smoke. The Medical Center for Federal Prisoners was engulfed in flames. Zombies wandered around the big field and in front of it. We were all quiet now. We all knew people that worked at Fed Med. They were Corrections Officers, just like us. Well, not really like us. They got Federal pay and benefits. We were just lowly county boys. But we were all Corrections Officers, and they were burning. It was a somber moment for all of us.

We were pushing our way through a blockage in the intersection when we saw a semi-truck stopped in the turn lane, facing us.
The driver was on top of the trailer, holding a baseball bat. The side of the truck said American Wholesale Grocers. There were several zombies crowding around the truck, trying to find a way on top. Sanders crushed most of them as we pulled alongside the big rig. I opened a window to yell at him.

“Need a lift?”

“Stay back!” he yelled. “I got bit!”

He held up his left arm.
He had a ragged wound to the underside of his upper arm. It was black and looked really bad. He was done for, and he knew it. It was purely a matter of time before he turned. What made it worse is that he knew it, too. There was nothing that anyone could do about it, now. His fate was sealed.

“Is there anything we can do
for you?”

“Got any water?’ he replied.

I grabbed a big water bottle and tossed it to him. He caught it like a football, against his body. Then he cracked it open and took a long pull. With a contented sigh, he lowered it to his side. I could see resignation in his eyes as he lowered it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling sadly.

“Anything else we can do?”

“I don’t have long,” he said. “I can feel it turning me inside.
I’m already burning up with the fever.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

“Thanks,” he said. “You know, I’ve seen a dozen or so vehicles go by here and you’re the first one that stopped to check on me.”

“We’re with the Sheriff’s Office.
We’re out here trying to rescue people.”

“I kind of gathered that,” he said, gesturing at the department logo painted on the side of the bus.

“Yeah, and the uniforms sort of give it away.”

“I don’t want to become one of those things,” he said, tears in his eyes.

“I can’t blame you, there. Neither do I.”

“I know I don’t even know you, and it’s a lot to ask of anyone,” he said, tears flowing unchecked down his cheeks. “But can you please help me with that?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“I can’t bring myself to do it, but I’d rather die as myself than become one of them.”

The request hung heavy in the air. Was he really asking me to kill him? Could I do it? Could I not? Could I live with myself, either way?

“Please!” he pleaded. “I’m ready to go, now.
I’ve been praying for over an hour. I asked God to let me die as myself. Then out of the blue, you show up. Please, help me die! I don’t want to become one of those
things
.”

Did he really believe that God sent me here to kill him?
Sent me here to ease his suffering? Why not bring me here before he was even bitten? I looked at the others for any sign of what I should do, for any suggestions. Everyone just stared at me, shock in their eyes.

“We can’t just leave him like this,” said Sanders
, shaking his head. “I’d want you to do it for me, if I was bit.”

“Me too,” said Southard. “But I don’t think I could shoot someone like that.”

“It would be a mercy,” said Spec-4. “I’d rather die than become one of those things, too.”