Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (26 page)

BOOK: Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga)
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“Take it easy, there,” she chided. “I thought you already had a bag full of Irish whiskey.”

“Oh yeah,” I responded, grinning. “Never mind the beer. I’ve got Bushmills.”

As we rounded a corner, we came out next to a storage facility.
I could see ahead of us that the Expressway was still blocked. I wasn’t sure if we could get through, or not. There weren’t many zombies roaming around our area, but I knew that was about to change. We were heading into a residential area with several apartment buildings and more than one church.


Cal?” I asked, hesitantly. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Yeah, dude.
But I think I might be able to find us a gap.”

“I hope so,” I said, “because there’s gonna be a shit-load of zombies across the road by those apartments.”

“They haven’t seen us, yet,” said Spec-4. “Maybe we’ll slip though without them noticing.”

“Yeah,” said Southard, “and maybe they’ll all just yell trick or treat, and this will all just be a big Halloween prank.”

“A little early for Halloween, isn’t it?” I asked, grinning.

“Good,” said Southard. “I didn’t pack any candy
, anyway.”

As we got closer to the Expressway, I could see that the blockage was bad but not impenetrable.
There were about a dozen zombies in the intersection, but they were trapped behind cars and wouldn’t be able to get to us easily. Sanders started forcing his way through, picking out the smallest cars to push. We were still moving and that was good. Once we cleared the intersection, we had to drive up on the curb to get around abandoned cars.

Luckily, the blockage eased up by the time we reached the next stoplight.
There was a retirement home on one corner and a church on the other. The four lane road we were on was divided and there was nothing but median and a bike trail on our left. Fifty yards away on our left was houses, but they weren’t a problem for us.

Right after we crossed the intersection, two zombies wearing redneck clothes and cowboy hats came running out of a church parking lot.
Since we weren’t moving very fast, they both tried to crawl onto the hood to reach the windshield. Sanders hit the brakes and sent them both flying. They landed in the street in front of us and rolled to a stop. Before they could get up, Sanders hit the gas and ran over both of them. I looked at him in anticipation of his next smart-assed comment. He didn’t make me wait very long.

“Ride ‘em, Cowboy,” he said, chuckling to himself.
“No points for riding less than eight seconds.”


Cal, you kill me, dude,” I said, smiling.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning like a kid.
“I really ought to write all these down. I could write a book or something when this is all over.”

Soon, we were approaching another major intersection.
It was completely blocked off, in both directions. It looked pretty much hopeless. To the south, there was a Mexican restaurant where I took my kids. It was burning. It looked like a car had crashed into the front of it, setting it ablaze. To my left, about a dozen zombies were busily pulling apart what appeared to be a homeless woman near a bank. Her overturned shopping cart lay less than ten feet away. On the other side of the intersection were a car dealership on the left and an empty lot on the right.

I got up and walked to the front of the bus
, looking around for anything that might be helpful. I braced myself by putting one hand on the ceiling and hanging onto the bar behind Cal’s seat with the other hand. I looked up and down the rows of cars, looking for an opening. I didn’t like what I was seeing. The street was flooded with abandoned cars, and they were almost bumper to bumper. I couldn’t help but think about the panic that must have ensued with all the people when the dead came for them. It must have been pure chaos.

“We’re screwed,” I said, low enough for only
Cal to hear me. “There’s no way we’re getting through all that. We’re going to have to backtrack and find another way through.”

“Not yet,” said Sanders, quietly. “I’m going to try something.
Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” I replied, without hesitation.

Sanders waited for just a second before putting the bus back in gear. It looked like he was doing complex calculations in his head. His eyes kept darting back and forth, like he was taking variables into consideration. The thing with Cal Sanders is most people assume he’s not all that smart. Yeah, he’s a big, big man. He lifts a lot of weights and acts like a good old boy, most of the time. I’ve seen Cal in action, though. He’s far smarter than most people give him credit. He’s perfectly happy letting people underestimate him until it’s too late.

When the bus started moving,
Cal angled us towards a red hatchback. He slowed down and rolled right up against the side of it. When he made contact, he started releasing the clutch and giving it gas. He started shoving the little car, using it like a snow plow blade. When he had shoved four other cars away and the bus started bogging down, he stopped and backed up. Then he began to size up his next target.

We were starting to attract a number of zombies, but not enough to hurt us.
A few of them were banging on the sides of the bus. When I noticed that they were scaring the kids, I patted Cal on the shoulder and headed towards the back of the bus. I needed to let them know we were alright. The last thing we needed was a full-blown panic on the bus.

“Hey, kids,” I said. “It’s ok.
They can’t get in here. Don’t worry.”

That seemed to calm them down, but they were still worried. I could see it in their eyes. Even the women were beginning to get worried. I tried to reassure them, but it was difficult to tell them that everything was going to be alright when you were surrounded by the dead. It was going to take a lot more than soothing words to make everyone feel safe, again. Considering what was going on around us, safety might be a relative term.

I felt the bus moving forward, again. When Cal found another car to use as a ram, he repeated the process. It took him a few tries, but he cleared us a path through to the other side of the intersection. That was all well and good, but where we needed to be was about two blocks directly south of us. By the time I made it back to the front of the bus, Cal was driving through the intersection. At least we were mobile.

“Are you planning on going farther down and taking the next side stre
et?” I asked, gesturing at the road ahead of us.

“Not exactly,” he said, and
turned the wheels sharply to the right.

I grabbed the roof of the bus and held on as we bounced up onto the curb and into the empty lot.
We bounced through the tall grass and over another curb. That put us in the parking lot of a small Japanese Restaurant that was in the building that used to be a Dunkin Donuts. I still miss that place. I mean, Krispy Kreme is just down the road, and they’re good. But they’re not Dunkin! Yeah, I know…a Law Enforcement Officer who likes doughnuts.

Before I could finish my thoughts on the pastry nirvana that was Dunkin Donuts, Cal bounced across the street and into the parking area around a
frozen custard shop. We smashed through a group of about ten zombies and continued on into the parking lot of a strip mall. It had lots of cars in it, but still could be navigated since most of the cars were actually in parking spaces.

I took that opportunity to key up my radio and try to raise the officers in the drug store.
I hoped that they still had working batteries in their radios. I started with the county-wide emergency frequency. If there was anyone out there from any agency including firefighters, they would be using the county-wide emergency channel. All first responders and police departments could access it.

“829 to any units, do you read?” I said.

I got nothing but dead air. I sighed, and tried again.

“829 to any units,” I repeated. “We’re trying to reach the officers in the drug store on Battlefield and
Campbell. Do you copy, over?”

I waited a second and was about to switch radio frequencies to try again, when I heard a voice come back on the line.

“This is Officer Baker with the Springfield Police Department. Who is this?”

“Wylie Grant.
I’m with the Sheriff’s Office. What happened to our Deputies that were there?”

“What deputies?”

“At the Drug store,” I said, calmly.

Hadn’t I just said that?

“I couldn’t tell you that,” said Baker. “Are you guys in the big gray bus?”

“That’s affirmative.
Can you see us?”

“Yes, I can.
I’m on the roof of the C-store in front of you.”

“Got him,” said Sanders, pointing.

I could see him waving his arms. A large crowd of zombies were gathered around the Stop ‘n’ Rob and were trying to climb the sides of the building without success.

“How’d you get up there?” I asked.

“On the other side of the building is a panel truck. I climbed onto the top of it and jumped across.”

“Need a lift?”

“I damned sure wouldn’t turn one down,” he replied.

“When we pull up next to the building, jump down onto the roof,” I said. “We’ll pull you in through one of the windows.”

“I may not fit,” he replied, chuckling.

I looked back up and noticed that he was every bit as big as Cal Sanders.

“Yeah, scratch that,” I said. “Just get onto the roof. We’ll figure it out from there.”

“Got it.”

“I know, I know,” said Sanders. “I’m on my way.”

Sanders pulled right up next to the building along the front wall and stopped.
Immediately, we heard a thump on the roof, followed by a heavier thump. Zombies started converging on us, from all sides. We needed to clear a path for Baker to get inside before we became completely surrounded.

“So much for retirement,” I said, and pulled out my Mossberg.

Sanders yanked out the lock and swung the door open. I blasted the first one that reached the door, worked the pump on the shotgun and blasted another. I shot three more in rapid succession as I stepped out and clear of the door. Spec-4, Southard and Sanders were right on my heels. We began laying down a field of fire, taking out zombies left and right.

Baker jumped from the roof to the hood of the bus.
He had a big, black duffle bag in his hand. From the hood, he jumped to the ground and quickly dove inside the bus. I transitioned from the now empty shotgun to one of my Berettas. One by one, we backed onto the bus. I was the last one through the door, and my slide locked back just as Cal yanked the door shut. Southard slammed the lock back into place, and we were in.

“Holy Crap!” I yelled. “Is everyone good?”

“Yeah,” came a chorus of replies, with a couple “Clear’s” tossed in for good measure.

EMT was already checking Baker.
He caught my eye and flashed me a thumbs up.

Sanders was already driving before I had my magazine changed in the Beretta.
We accelerated around the back of the building and headed for the street.

“I wasn’t bitten,” said Bake
r. “Not through lack of effort, though. I just about didn’t make it.”

“We just have to be sure,” I said.
“It’s too much of a chance to take. We can’t risk infecting everyone else.”

“I can’t say t
hat I blame you,” replied Baker, nodding.

He stood up and came over to me, extending his hand.
I took it and his huge paw dwarfed mine. I was wrong. This guy was bigger than Cal. He had to be close to six feet six inches tall and close to 280 lbs. He looked like he could have played linebacker in the NFL. I looked tiny in comparison to him.

“So, how long were you trapped up there?”
I asked, glancing up at him.

“Since yesterday morning,” he replied. “I’ve seen a few cars, but couldn’t ever raise any back-up on the radio.
I didn’t think anyone would come for me. Thanks.”

“No problem.
We were going to the drugstore over there, anyway. So, it’s not like you were out of our way or anything,” I said, smiling. “But you’ll still have to kick in for gas.”

Baker started laughing.
He had a deep, booming laugh that caught me by surprise.

“Last we heard there were officers from our department and several civilians trapped in there,” I said.
“Have you heard or seen anything?”

“No, I can’t say that I have,” he replied. “But I couldn’t see the front door from where I was, either.”

“We’re going to try, anyway,” I said. “Everyone with a radio, pick a frequency and sound off. I’ll take county wide emergency. Once you have a frequency, try and raise the officers inside the drugstore.”

People began switching their radios and calling out frequencies as Sanders picked his way through the parking lot of a kid’s pizza place.
It was one of those places that had mediocre buffet style pizza with a game room that paid out tickets. Once you collected about a million tickets, you could win a fifty cent stuffed animal or something just as overpriced. It was highway robbery how much it cost to “win”
a cheap toy. I can’t remember the name of the place but it sounded a lot like
Inedible.

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