Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (25 page)

“So where’s this convenience store at?”

“It should be right around here, somewhere,” I replied, gesturing.

About that time my radio crackled to life.

“I never thought I’d be happy to see the jail bus,” said a voice over the radio.

I grabbed the handset and keyed up.

“Nathanael County shuttle service,” I said. “Did you call for a ride?”

“Yeah,” replied a second voice. “Did you bring our pizza?”

“Sure did,” I responded. “It’s still fresh in the MRE bag.”

“MRE’s?” said the first voice. “I ain’t that hungry.”

“Wow,” chimed in Sanders. “He must be ex-Army. MRE’s
never
sound good to me, either.”

“Where do you want the delivery brought?” I asked.

“I’m looking at you, right now. We’re in the Stop ‘n’ Rob right next to the auto parts store.”

“Got ‘em,” said Sanders, and started heading that way.

We could see the store clearly, now. They’d succeeded in blocking off the doors, but a few dozen zombies were crowded around the entrance. We were going to have to fight our way in.

“Is there any chance that you can shoot your way out of there?” I asked.

“No can do,” said voice number one. “We’re completely out of ammo. Plus, I’m banged up pretty bad.”

“Where’s your cruiser?” I asked.

“What’s left of it is at the intersection of Sunshine and West By-pass. We got t-boned by a pick-up truck. It’s totaled.”

“Copy,” I replied. “Stand by. We’re coming for you.”

“We’ve got plenty of alcohol. The drinks are on us when you get here. Name your poison.”

“Bushmills Irish Whiskey,” I replied.
“Any variety will do, but the 21’s my favorite.”

“We’ll see what we can do.”

“Also, grab coffee,” I said. “We’re running low at the jail.”

“Gotchya,” replied voice number two.
“We’re on it.”

“By the way,” I said. “Who are you guys?”

“This is Burton and Graham’s here with me. His leg’s pretty banged up. Who are you?”

“Wylie Grant,” I replied. “Jail staff.”

“I knew it,” said Graham. “If I’d have known it was you, I’d have asked for Chinese instead of pizza.”

“Hell, Graham,” I replied, laughing. “If I’d have known it was you, I’d have stayed at the jail.”

I was kidding and they knew it. I knew them both from nights spent in Booking. For Roadies, they were both pretty good guys. They didn’t treat the jail staff like crap, and that made them alright in my book. Besides, I wouldn’t have left anyone to die. Not even Henderson. Well, maybe Henderson. I’m kidding. Well, mostly.

“Everyone lock and load,” I called out to the bus. “Sanders, stop us about thirty yards out.”

“Got it,” he replied, already beginning to slow down.

I keyed up the radio once more.

“Listen up, guys,” I said. “You might want to grab some floor. If we miss, it might come through the walls or the windows.”

“Copy that,” said
Burton. “I didn’t know that you C.O.’s could shoot.”

“Up yours,
Burton,” I replied. “We’ll yell when we’re clear.”

“Copy, that.”

Sanders brought the bus to a screeching halt as I yanked out the lock and opened the door. I was the first one out the door. Spec-4 was right on my heels, followed by Southard, Cassie Bennett, Shane, Bowman and Sanders. I began firing as soon as I cleared the bus.

The zombies turned and came right at us.
A few of them were
Sprinters
, so we took them out first. With seven of us shooting, it was over pretty quickly. The zombies never made it within ten yards of us. As soon as we stopped shooting, the door to the Stop ‘n’ Rob flew open and out came two very banged up patrol deputies. I yelled for EMT as soon as I saw them, and he came out with bag in hand.

We all fanned out and covered the area, letting them come to us.
EMT helped them onto the bus while I did a quick scan of the area. I didn’t see any zombies that would be close enough to cause us any problems. That gave us a little breathing room to play with. We had a little bit of time to kill and I knew just how to use it.

“Ok, people,” I said. “
Burton and Graham already cleared the Stop ‘n’ Rob. I’ll watch our six. Take a few minutes and go shopping. Grab whatever we might need.”

Spec-4 stayed with me while Sanders, Bowman, Shane, Southard and Bennett ran inside the store to grab supplies.
Spec-4 and I faced opposite directions and began sweeping the area. I didn’t see anything coming from the direction that I was covering, so I glanced towards Spec-4.

“I’ve got about a dozen
Shamblers
coming our way,” said Spec-4. “They’re about two blocks north of us. They shouldn’t be here for a while.”

“Keep an eye on them,” I replied. “If there are any
Sprinters
in the group, they’ll get here quick. My side is clear.”

In less than two minutes, they were all coming back out of the store.
They were each carrying several bags. Southard handed me a bag when he walked up.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“All the chew pouches they had,” he replied. “I thought I’d stock you up, since you’re off the wagon now.”

I grinned and jerked my thumb at the bus.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, people,” I said.

They climbed back onto the bus as I backed up to the door, covering us. Sanders climbed back into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. I was the last one back on board. Once the lock was back in place, Sanders shoved the big bus into gear and we rumbled on towards West By-pass. While Sanders was driving, I turned my attention towards our newest arrivals.

“Are either of you bit?” I yelled at
Burton and Graham.

“Nope,” said
Burton. “But we did get pretty busted up in the crash.”

“How’d you guys make it all the way up here on foot?” I asked.

“Very slowly,” said Graham. “Getting here alive cost us all of our ammo.”

“If you still have your weapons, we’ve got plenty of ammo,” said Spec-4.

Burton was carrying a duffle bag and a backpack.

“Two Glocks, two shotguns and one AR,” he said, holding up the range bag.

“We’ve got ammo for all of those,” said Southard. “I’ll load you up.”

“Good to see you, Chuck,” said
Burton.

“Likewise,” said Southard, grinning.

“Do you two need a room?” I asked, chuckling.

Burton smiled and flipped me the bird, then handed me a backpack.
It clinked when I took it from him. There were ten bottles in it, two of each of the variety of Bushmills. My face must have lit up like a kid on Christmas Morning. I swear, I almost kissed that man.

“Do
you
need a room?” asked Spec-4, chuckling.

Graham handed Southard another big duffle bag.
It was filled with coffee.

“Damn it, Wylie,” said Southard. “Why do you get whiskey and I get coffee?”

“Because I’m prettier than you,” I replied, smiling.

We all fell back into our seats, laughing.
Spec-4 slid into the seat next to me.

“You’re sharing the whiskey, right?” she asked, grinning.

“Of course,” I replied. “What’s the point in having whiskey if you won’t share it?”

I stashed my whiskey and tobacco under my seat.
No sense leaving it out where it might get tripped over or spilled. That would’ve been a crying shame. Karen wasn’t going to be happy with me. I only rarely had a drink at home and she made me quit chewing years ago. Now I was chewing and drinking again. Oh well, I might as well enjoy myself. I could be dead in an hour.

“Where to, now?” asked Sanders.

“Can you get through the intersection at the By-pass?”

“Yeah, I think so.
It’ll be tricky, but I can do it.”

“Good,” I replied. “Turn left onto the by-pass and head south.
The next group is holed up in a Drugstore at Battlefield and Campbell. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died.

Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
”

- General George S. Patton

Sanders continued on towards the intersection at the by-pass.
Burton and Graham had been right, it was a complete mess. I could see what was left of their Charger. It was mangled almost beyond recognition. It was a miracle that either of them survived. It had been hit by a red Chevy pick-up, which was now lying on its side with the entire front end crushed. There were several zombies milling around the area, but not any large groups.

“Damn,” said Sanders. “That dude must have really been flying when he hit you guys.”

“He sure was,” replied Burton, “right through the windshield. Unless he got back up, what’s left of him should still be under that Buick over there.”

“O
uch,” I said, wincing.

EMT came up to me and smiled.

“How are they, Larry?” I asked.

“Well, all things considered, not too bad.
Cuts, bruises, maybe a couple of bruised ribs, but I don’t think anything’s broken. I gave them both a shot to ease the pain. Nothing strong enough to make them loopy, just a low dose.”

“What about the women?”

“It’s about what you’d expect. They’ve got bruises mostly. There may be some other injuries that I won’t be able to check on a bus. It’s more emotional trauma than physical. I’m afraid I can’t help them with that. I gave them all a big dose of antibiotics and had to sedate one of them.”

“You did good, Larry.
I’m glad you came along.”

“I am too.
But those bikers really pissed me off. I’m actually
glad
you took them out.”

“Yeah, so am I,” said Spec-4. “I just wish we’d have gotten there sooner.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he looked like he wanted to say more.

“Is there something on your mind, Larry?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, uh, sort of,” he stammered. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.
Name it.”

“Can you teach me to shoot?”

“Yeah, I will,” I said. “If you want to learn, I’d be glad to teach you.”

Sanders threaded the needle, taking the bus through the middle of the wreckage and abandoned cars.
A few zombies ran up to us and started pounding on the side of the bus. One was dressed in the uniform of a postal carrier. The mail-zombie tried to climb up onto the hood of the bus, but lost his grip and fell beneath the wheels.

“Sorry,” said Sanders, “insufficient postage.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Sanders really was enjoying himself. You could tell by the big goofy grin on his face.

“Did you think that up all by yourself, Cal?”

“Yeah, I should do stand-up.”

Then we were clear and accelerating south down the by-pass.
There were abandoned cars all along the road, but most of them were off on the shoulder. We were making good progress until we hit the stoplight at Battlefield. There was a Stop ‘n’ Rob there, and it was under siege. More than fifty zombies were trying to force their way inside the store, while a group of survivors were desperately trying to keep them out.

Some were piling anything they could find up against the windows, and others were trying to reinforce the doors.
The glass doors were holding, but cracks were beginning to appear and it would only be a matter of time before the zombies got inside and the killing started. I could see men, women and children inside. There was no way in hell I was going to pass by without helping.

“Lock and load!”

Sanders was already slowing down and edging into the parking lot.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he said, with a smirk.

We didn’t bother disembarking, this time.

“Everyone with a weapon, open the nearest window and pick your targets.
Take your shots carefully. There are kids inside that store.”

Windows flew open, and everyone except EMT and the women we rescued from the strip club started taking aim.
Cassie Bennett joined in, grabbing one of the deer rifles we’d confiscated during her rescue. When everyone was in position, I gave the order to fire. I was happy to see everyone taking careful aim. Within less than a minute, most of the zombies lay dead on the ground and the few who remained were coming towards us.

The rest fell before they made it across the parking lot.
When the last one fell, we all stopped firing. For a few seconds, silence reigned supreme. The only sound I could hear was the sound of our breathing and the wind. The smell of gunpowder filled the bus. Then the front of the store flew open and people began pouring out. This time was different than when we liberated the Dollar Store. This time people cheered us and waved as they ran for their cars. People smiled and waved, and honked their horns as the parking lot quickly emptied. Two women came running towards us, each holding a small child in their arms.

“Open the door,” I yelled.

Sanders quickly yanked the lock out of the door and pulled it open. The women hurried inside, nearly hysterical with relief. The first woman, a tall blonde was holding a small boy of about six. The other woman, a brunette of about average height, was holding a girl that looked to be about three.

“Please help us,” said the blonde.

“Of course, we will,” I replied. “What happened?”

“We were trying to get out of town when we got ran off the road by a pick-up.
We barely made it to the store before the zombies caught us. We’ve been trapped in there all night, praying someone would rescue us.”

Burton & Graham exchanged a glance and smirked.
I had the distinct feeling that the pick-up that had ran them off the road had been the same one that had crashed into them.

“Where are your families?” I asked.

“My husband’s in Iraq,” said the brunette.

“Mine is in town, somewhere,” said the blonde. “He’s with the Springfield Police.”

“We’re on our way to rescue some trapped officers,” I said. “Then we’re returning to the jail.”

“Ok,” said the brunette. “That’s fine with me, so long as we don’t have to go back out there with those
things
.”

“You’re welcome to stay with us,” I said. “Just keep to the back of the bus when we start shooting.
We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Thank you,” said the blonde. “My name is Grace Ellison and this is my son Craig.”

The little boy smiled and waved at me, but he still looked half scared to death. I returned the smile and said, “Nice to meet you, Craig.”

“I’m Connie Boyd, and this is my daughter Molly,” said the brunette.

“Hello, Molly,” I said. “I’m Wylie Grant with the Sheriff’s Office.”

“Thank you, Deputy Grant,” said Grace.

I didn’t correct her on the title. I’m still wasn’t comfortable with being called
Sheriff.

“Anytime, ma’am.
That’s what we’re here for.”

They headed to the back of the bus and EMT followed to check them out.
He would say it was to make sure they were ok, but I knew he was looking for bites. I was starting to appreciate EMT more and more.

“Damn it, Wylie,” said Southard. “We’re filling up this bus pretty fast.”

“Yeah, I know,” I replied, quietly. “But I won’t leave them behind.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it,” he replied. “It’s just an observation.
If we keep up this pace, we’ll be making more than one trip.”

Sanders pulled back out onto Battlefield and continued on towards our next objective.
As we approached the next stoplight, we were within a few blocks of my house. There on the right was the gas station where I’d filled up my tank just before all this started. I had a sudden pang of homesickness. I wanted to go home, in the worst way. I wanted to walk in my front door and find my wife and kids there waiting for me. Yeah, and the big, dumb dogs too. I wanted to go home and all of this to be a bad dream.

But that wasn’t going to happen.
It wasn’t a dream. It was a damned
nightmare,
and one
that I couldn’t wake up from. My family wasn’t there, and neither were the dogs. If anyone was there at all, it would probably be a zombie from my neighborhood. I stared off down the road that I would have turned on to go home, completely lost in my thoughts. Spec-4 had to grab my arm to get my attention.

“Earth to Wylie,” she said. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” I replied, shaking my head. “That’s my neighborhood right there. My house is right down that street.”

Spec-4 didn’t say a word.
She just put her hand on my shoulder and nodded. There really weren’t any words of comfort and I’m pretty sure that Hallmark doesn’t make a “Sorry the zombies ate your neighborhood” card. I shook my head and forced myself to get back to the here and now. I couldn’t afford to be distracted. That’s the kind of thing that can get you killed.

By the time we approached the next stoplight, I was back to
normal. Spec-4 didn’t comment, and no one else seemed to have noticed. We’d been passing lots of zombies, but none of them were in groups larger than a half dozen. That was good news, but I knew it wouldn’t last. We were heading into the main part of the south-side business district. The Battlefield Mall was ahead of us, and so were dozens of other businesses. The odds of us running into another large horde were pretty good.

At the corner we had to come to a stop.
The intersection was almost completely blocked. There was another Stop ‘n’ Rob on the southwest corner of the intersection, and it was on fire. It was burning completely out of control. From the condition of the place, you could tell that the fuel tanks had gone up. There were two fire trucks parked close by, but no one was fighting the fire. I could see a couple firefighter zombies wandering around, but the truck hoses were slack. I guessed that the trucks had long since run out of water.

“I wonder how long that’s been burning?” said Spec-4.

“With all the fuel in those tanks, I bet it’s been burning for quite a while,” I replied. “It’ll be burning for days.”

“We’d better stay clear,” said Sanders, swinging the bus to the other side of the road.

Both sides of the intersection were blocked with cars of all types. Getting through was going to be tricky. Sanders picked his way towards the least blocked part and picked a target to knock out of the way. I wanted to cry when he smashed the side of a vintage Corvette. It was horribly painful to watch, but completely unavoidable if we wanted to get through.

“I wonder if there’s anything left in their armory,” said Sanders, gesturing at the Southside Headquarters of the Springfield Police.

“No time to check, right now,” I said. “But we should at least keep it in mind.”

I was making mental notes all along our path.
The SPD headquarters may very well have weapons and ammo left inside. I doubt seriously that they were able to deploy completely. We were all caught unprepared. From what I was seeing, they got hit worse than we did. The worst of the attacks by the zombies were in town and they patrolled exclusively inside the city limits.

Almost right across the street from the SPD building was a Grocery Warehouse.
Right there was both a source of weapons and food, and they were practically right on top of one another. One-stop shopping, so long as neither building was overrun with zombies. The canned goods in the warehouse would be good for a long time, even if the power ran out. But the meat in the coolers would only last as long as the power did.

It was still on in this area, but I knew that wouldn’t last.
I was really amazed that it had lasted this long. I used to complain about Springfield City Utilities, but it looks like they really knew how to build a grid. Even with all of the buildings burning and power lines knocked down, the grid was still working. My guess was that some areas were already dark, but the big industrial grids were holding…for now, anyway.

I put those thoughts away, for
the moment, and re-focused on getting us to the officers that were trapped. As we approached a major intersection at the Expressway, I could see that the intersection was going to be impassible. There were too many cars, and in the middle was a wreck involving at least ten cars. We could get through there, if we had a tank. But the old gray bus just wasn’t going to cut it. We had to divert.

“
Cal,” I said. “Go left through the industrial center.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “no way we’re getting though
all of this without a bulldozer.”

The path through the industrial park was mostly clear.
We were passing a lumber yard and a beer distributor. I had to resist the urge to have Sanders pull over.

“Easy, Wylie,” I whispered. “Rescue the people, not the beer.”

Spec-4 heard me and chuckled.