Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (41 page)

“Get on the gun,” I said to Spec-4.
“When we get back to Fremont, we’re going to be close enough to spit on that crowd of zombies by the armory.”

“On it,” she said.

Once more, she was back into the turret like a shot. The girl was getting a lot of practice, but I’m sure she was getting tired of going in and out of the turret like a jack-in-the-box.

“Hey,” I said. “Sorry you have to keep doing that.”

“Not a problem,” she said. “I don’t mind, so long as there’s a reason. You haven’t steered us wrong, yet.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling.

Spec-4 popped the hatch and slid back behind the SAW. Behind us, I could see Sanders following suit. That was good. When we reached Fremont, it would get ugly really fast and I mean ugly with a capital
UGH
. I didn’t slow down as we approached the intersection. I knew if there was a crowd waiting for us, our best chance lay in speed. If they bogged us down, that many zombies would swarm us.

So when I reached the intersection, I let off the gas and
screeched hard to the left. Rubber squealed in protest as I made the corner. I barely had time to glance to my right, and I’m glad I didn’t get a better look. What I saw was bad enough. The crowd was much bigger than I had originally estimated. They were less than ten yards to our right as we made the corner.

Spec-4 opened fire, aiming low on purpose.
Her plan wasn’t to try and kill a few, but to maim as many as possible with shots at leg and torso level.

“Aim for the legs,” I heard her snap on the radio.

Instead of answering, Sanders just opened fire. I swung wide and to the far right side of the road as Southard slid around the corner and took the left lane. Sanders and Spec-4 spun their turrets around until they were facing directly behind us, then they started strafing fire into the legs of the crowd. It seemed to be working. With row after row of zombies falling, the ones behind them tripped and fell on top of them. That did a lot to take the pressure off of us. They were still going to chase us, but it gave us a heck of a head start. We’d be long gone before they made it to Chestnut. Southard gave me a grin and a big thumbs-up, then slowed down to get back behind me.

“Cease fire,” I called over the radio.

Instantly, the automatic weapons chatter ceased.

“Reloading!” yelled Spec-4, grabbing another box of ammo.

She was burning through it pretty fast. We only had about four boxes left of the belted 5.56mm. We were going to have to pick our battles from here on out. She quickly reloaded the SAW as Southard pulled in behind me. I kept going, heading for the intersection at Chestnut. I crossed my fingers, hoping there would be an opening I could squeeze through.

The Gods must have been listening, because my prayers were answered.
There was a clear shot across. I could cross without coming close to another vehicle. That was good, because I’d been putting my Humvee through hell. It was bound to catch up with me, sooner or later. I hoped that it was later. Preferably, much later. I need this vehicle. Once we cleared Chestnut, we continued south. I made a mental note as we passed a parking lot full of propane trucks.

“Those will come in handy,” I said.
“We might steal a few of those to keep the jail’s generator going.”

“Good call,” said Spec-4.
“Can you drive one?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I can give it a try.”

We were approaching the next intersection, when I saw the fires. Just beyond the intersection to the south of us were burning buildings and cars in the road. I knew that there was a building near there that used to be a television station. It looked like it had gone up in flames. The entire area was burning.

“Well, that way is out,” I said.

“You think?” asked Spec-4.

Without hesitation, I
turned left onto the first road heading east. It was mostly clear, with only scattered zombies. It was a run-down industrial area and didn’t have much in the way of people, even on a busy day. I kept the speedometer at about 45 mph, and stayed to the center of the road. I didn’t want to get caught by any surprises that might pop up. As we got closer to an overpass, I started looking for my turn. I wanted to take the last road on the right, before the overpass.

I found the road I was looking for, but didn’t notice the name.
The street was partially blocked, but there was enough room that I could get through. I slid between a flatbed pick-up and a PT Cruiser, and immediately crunched over a zombie in a business skirt. She must have been pretty, in life. I didn’t have time to ponder it for long, because she disappeared beneath the wheels.

“Whoa,” said Southard, on the radio.
“Nice hit.”

Suddenly, I didn’t feel like making jokes.
That one had seemed too lifelike for me to feel good about plowing her over. I tried not to think about the lives that were destroyed when each and every one of those zombies was created. It was enough to drive you nuts. I didn’t have the luxury of time for reflection. I had officers to rescue, and we were getting close to our first pick-up. The intersection ahead was blocked. I could go straight across, but not left or right. Unfortunately, directly across the street was the back wall of a motel.

“Wylie,” said Spec-4.
“Don’t do it. We can’t crash through a building.”

“Hang on,” I said.

Spec-4 grabbed the door frame and braced herself as I shot across the street. Just as we reached the curb, I spun the wheels to the right. We hopped the curb and onto a grassy strip that ran behind the motel. I drove through the grass and slid left into the motel parking lot. Southard was right behind me, and I could see him flipping me off in the mirror.

I s
hot into the parking lot at about 30 mph and narrowly missed an overturned RV. I screeched around it, and slammed into a knot of zombies. There were about six of them and I scattered them like match-sticks. Southard swerved left and took out the two that I’d missed, while I continued south towards the road. It was still packed with cars, and impassible. I started slowing down as we approached the end of the parking lot.

“You’re never going to make it through all those cars,” said Spec-4.

“Oh ye of little faith,” I said, grinning.

Just before I made it to the street, I
turned to the right and into the grass. I drove through the grass and into a parking lot behind the motel. I bounced over the curb and slowed to a stop in front of the building. Southard slowed to a stop on my left.

“Why are we stopping?” asked Spec-4.

“Because we’re here,” I said. “Do you mind covering us from the turret?”

She rolled her eyes, but slid into the turret without complaint.
Southard gave me a shrug and a mouthed “What the hell” as Sanders hit the turret, as well. I scanned the area quickly, and didn’t see any zombies within fifty yards of us. Grabbing my M-16, I climbed out the door and started around the front of the Humvee. Southard followed my lead.

“Why are we stopping here?” asked Southard.

“I’ll show you,” I said, and headed for the door of the lawyer’s office.

I was almost to the door when I heard a voice from inside.

“It’s Grant,” came Sullivan’s voice.

I’d recognize her voice anywhere.
She had a husky voice, like Kirsty Alley. I used to tell her that her voice was so husky it could pull a dog sled.

“I think we’re better off with the zombies,” said Kubichek.

“That’s fine,” I yelled back. “If you guys want to stay here, I’ll just be on my way.”

“Hang on,” said Sullivan.
“I think I’d prefer to leave these luxurious accommodations and go with you.”

“Give us a sec to clear the door,” said Kubichek.

“Gotcha,” I said. “Chuck, let’s cover the area.”

We both took up positions with weapons at the ready.
It wasn’t long before I heard the door behind us pop open. Sullivan came out first. She had her pistol in her hand, and was smiling from ear to ear.

“It’s lucky that you’re married,” said Sullivan.
“I’m so happy I could kiss you.”

“Thanks,” I said.
“I’d take one from you, but Kubichek better stay back.”

“Come on, give us a kiss,” said Kubichek, coming out the door behind Sullivan.

“If you insist,” I said. “Southard, kiss him for me.”

Southard just flipped me off and grinned.

“Let’s get you guys loaded up. Do you have any other gear to grab?”

“You see it,” said Sullivan.
“We dropped our shotguns to run faster. They were out of ammo, anyway.”

“Where’d you drop them?” asked Southard.

“A few blocks west of here,” said Kubichek. “But I don’t recommend going after them. They’re close to MSU campus, and it’s crawling with zombies.”

“Yeah, we saw it,” said Southard.
“I don’t want to go back there, either.”

“Ok,” I said. “Forget the shotguns.
Let’s get out of here. We’ve got guns and ammo. Load up as soon as we’re inside.”

“Koob,” said Southard.
“You ride with me. Sully, you go with Wylie. That keeps the firepower even.”

“Good call,” I said, and headed back to my Humvee.

We all piled inside as a group of zombies came around the far side of the restaurant across the street. The little all night steakhouse was a Springfield landmark. I’d had the steak and eggs with biscuits and gravy there many a late night. Both after the bars had closed and after getting off duty on a late shift. Their food wasn’t amazingly good, but it would fill your belly and it didn’t cost you an arm and a leg. I was really going to miss that place.

“We’re going to have to drive through some yards and driveways to get through,” I said, and put the Humvee into gear.

“Do you want me inside or on the turret?” asked Spec-4.

“Come on inside,” I said. “With any luck, we won’t need you up there.”

She dropped back inside and sealed the hatch, then slid back into the front seat.

“You’re pretty good at that,” said Sullivan.
“I’ve had a lot of practice, lately,” replied Spec-4.

“Where are my manners?” I said.
“Elizabeth Sullivan, this is Chrissy Wilder.”

“Call me Sully,” said Sullivan. “Everyone does.”

“You can call me Wilder or Chrissy,” said Spec-4. “Wylie calls me Spec-4, most of the time.”

“Hey,” I said. “I try not to do that, but some habits die hard.”

I drove across the street and through the parking lot of the steakhouse. The zombies were still near the back of the restaurant, so I was heading for the front. Southard followed me, but Sanders stayed on the SAW. He kept the barrel trained on the zombies as we went around the building.  I had to pick my way between the sign and a city bus that was in the outside lane.

On the other side of the restaurant was a church, and we bounced into their parking lot.
I guess a lot of people sought refuge in churches when they heard that the zombies were coming. This one was no exception. There were close to fifty zombies on the front steps. I shot past them before they could come after us. Southard stayed right behind me, but several of them almost reached his vehicle. Sanders opened up with the SAW and cut most of them to ribbons as they drove past.

We cleared the church and bounced into the parking lot of a Stop ‘n’ Rob.
I considered trying for the gas in the ground tanks, but thought better of it. There were almost forty zombies behind us and we were way too close to the college campus for my comfort. The cars on Glenstone had thinned out some, so I decided to try my luck. I shot through an opening and started weaving between abandoned cars. They were far enough apart that I could get to almost 30 mph. Southard kept about four car lengths between us. If I hit something he’d have time to stop.

As we crossed a set of railroad tracks, I could see a large group of zombies trying to get into a coffee shop on the right.
There had to be a reason they were so intent on getting inside.

“I wonder what they’re so interested in?” said Sully.

“That’s what I was wondering.”

“Should we stop?” asked Spec-4.

“Hang on a sec,” I said, and keyed my radio. “Sanders, can you thin out a few of those zombies? Try not to hit the coffee shop. There might be people inside.”

“Got it,” he said.

The chatter of the SAW started in almost instantly. Sanders worked the machine gun back and forth, expertly avoiding the front of the building. In a few seconds, he thinned them down to a half a dozen. A few seconds after that, they were all down. Some were still moving, but none of them could stand.

I stopped in the middle of the road and looked around.
A few zombies were making their way towards us from farther down the road, but the closest was about thirty yards away. I jumped out of my door and brought my M-16 up to position. I started squeezing off rounds. Sully popped out the passenger door with an M-4 that she’d grabbed from the extras we’d brought with us. She started taking out zombies with expert precision. I hated to admit it, but she was a better shot than I was.