Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (19 page)

My dirty uniform was covered in gore, but thankfully none of it was mine.
Medical gave me a check-up after I emerged from the shower. A couple of ibuprofen for my headache and some band-aids for my face, and I was ready for a nice long nap. Spec-4 used the shower in the women’s locker room and changed into the uniform I’d found in the trunk of that female SPD
officer’s cruiser, the one with the tactical thong. I didn’t ask if she was wearing that, too.

She headed back through the main sliders, while I headed for Laundry.
Her uniform went into the washing machine with mine. I added extra detergent, just to be safe. The last thing I wanted was to find zombie guts stuck to my uniform when I took it out of the dryer. As I was heading upstairs to find a quiet place to lie down, I was caught by Spec-4, Sanders and Southard.

“Hey, Wylie!” yelled Southard.
“Wait up a sec!”

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited for them to catch-up to me.
Maybe I was being paranoid, but I had the funny feeling that they were up to something. I wasn’t sure what, but I had a suspicious feeling that they were up to no good.

“Whe
re’re you headed?” asked Spec-4, grinning.

“Trying to find a quiet place to crash,” I responded, smiling.
“Why?”

I knew something was up.
They all looked just a little too happy.

“Well,” said Spec-4. “We thought that you might want to have a little glass of something with us.”

“What’d you have in mind?” my curiosity now up.

“Do you still have that bottle of Jack Daniels in your pack?” asked Southard, nonchalantly.

Bingo. They
were
all up to something. They just wanted me for my alcohol. With everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, I had completely forgotten about that bottle. Pulling my rucksack off of my shoulder, I quickly searched the pack for the prized bottle. Sure enough it was right where I had tucked it. Miraculously, it was still intact.

Considering all the crap I’d been through, it had to be divine intervention that kept that bottle from breaking.
Taking that as a sign, I presented it to them as if it were the Holy Grail. I half expected a bright light to shine down on it. It didn’t, but it sure would have been cool. Sanders and Southard both made the off key sound of a cherubic choir chanting, “Ahhh!”

“Anyone have a cup?” I asked, grinning wickedly.

Southard produced four inmate cups from behind his back, with a flourish.

“
Taa-daa! I snagged these out of the property room,” he said, grinning like a school-boy.

I couldn’t help but return the grin as I led them all into the Classification
office and shut the door behind us. I cracked open the bottle while Southard passed out the cups. Then I poured a generous measure to each of us, handing out the cups as they were filled. I filled my own last and capped the bottle, setting it on the desk behind me.

“Well,” I said, “it ain’t Bushmills, but it’ll do.”

“I forgot you love that Irish stuff,” said Sanders, chuckling.

“Oh, aye,” I said in a
really
bad Irish accent. “I do love a wee nip e’ry nae and a’gin.”

Everyone laughed
at that. Then, we all grew silent, each lost in our own thoughts. I let the silence hang in the air, allowing each of us time to reflect on our own memories. It was a somber moment as one by one; we looked at each other and nodded. A moment of shared grief was all we could allow ourselves. There was still too much to be done for anything more than reflection.

“To all the men and women who did
n’t make it back,” said Sanders, holding up his glass.

“To
absent friends,” said Southard, raising his.

“And family
,” I mumbled, joining them.

“Amen,” said Spec-4, touching her cup to ours.

We all tossed back our cups and I felt the fire hit my belly. As my grand-daddy would say, “What a wonderful fire it was.” I closed my eyes and let the warmth spread throughout my body. It eased the pain and dulled the aches, both physical and mental. I hoped it would be enough to let me sleep tonight. As my thoughts returned to family and friends, I seriously doubted that sleep would come.

“Another?” asked Sanders, hopefully.

“We’d better not,” I said, reluctantly. “If anything happens tonight, we need to be able to react. We’ll need to be alert.”

“Yeah,” said Spec-4. “One’s fine with me.”

We could all tell that it was affecting her more than the rest of us. Sanders had the constitution of an ox and Southard and I were both whiskey drinkers. Spec-4 didn’t have near the tolerance level that we had, and it was showing. Not that she was drunk. She was just well past lightly buzzed. Jack Daniels is potent stuff. Especially after they day we’d had. As hard as we had pushed and with all things considered, it would be more than enough for all of us. Why take the risk?

I decided right then that Classification would be as good as any place to spend the night.
I sent Sanders and Southard to the storage area to get a few new inmate mattresses. While they were gone, I headed down to the Property Room and snagged several bedrolls. Once we all returned, we moved the desks and filing cabinets to the side of the room. This made enough room for two people to lie down. We repeated the process in the office down the hallway.

When we returned to the first office, Spec-4 had already set up the two mattresses and put sheets on them.
She had her pack next to one and mine next to the other. She was already removing her boots and body armor, placing them with her weapons in easy reach.

“Well, I guess the sleeping arrangements have been decided,” said Southard, chuckling.

“No offense,” Spec-4 said. “I just thought that you two might want some alone time.”

“Oh!” laughed Sand
ers, “Army Girl’s got jokes.”

“I think she pegged you two,” I said, chuckling. “No sense denying it, now.”

They headed down the hall towards the other office giving me lecherous smiles as they walked away. I knew what they meant, and I should have resented it. I’m a married man, and they both knew it. But by the same token, it was nice to think that a young and attractive woman would be interested in an old codger like me. It didn’t mean that she was, but it was nice to think it. Hell, just because I’m married doesn’t mean I can’t run to the end of my chain and bark once in a while. Once I turned off the light, I started to step over her bedroll to mine when she spoke up.

“Do you mind shutting the door?” she asked, softly. “The light from the hallway will keep me awake.”

“No problem,” I muttered, and nudged the door shut with my foot.

I had to use my flashlight so I wouldn’t step on her.
Once I made it to my bedroll, I sat down and started removing my weapons, gear and boots. I could hear her getting ready for bed, behind me.

“Wylie?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” I replied, softly.

“I know you’re married and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or any
thing,” she said, softly.

“
Ok,” I replied eloquently.

“But, will you put your arms around me?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” I assured her.

I held her there in the darkness, her head cradled on my shoulder.
I could feel her tremble against me, which at first I took to be fear. But then I realized that she was softly crying. I could feel the tears beginning to soak into my t-shirt. After the hellish day that we’d had, it was all finally getting to her. I couldn’t blame her. I was doing my best to keep it all together, myself.

“It’s ok,’ I whispered, stroking her hair.

“No, it’s not,” she sobbed, her voice choked with tears. “I don’t want to die.”

“Well,” I said as comfortingly as I could. “I’ve got no intention of dying, just yet.
If we stick together, we’ll come through this. You’ll see.”

“Do you promise?” she asked, her voice trembling as much as she was.

She looked up and into my eyes. There was just enough light in the small room that I could see the glistening of tears in them. The pale blue of her eyes seemed almost translucent in the scant light coming from under the door.

“I promise that no matter what, I won’t let anything happen to you.
I’ll die before I let them get to you.”

“I guess that means I have to keep an eye on you, too,” she said, chuckling softly through the tears.

“Yeah,” I replied. “You saved my butt a few times today.”

“Consider us even,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, there’d be a lot less of us here.”

“I had good help.”

“Thanks,” she said
, her voice more steady now.

“Do you have any family around here?”

“My parents live in St. Louis. I haven’t been able to reach them for three days, now.”

“Anyone around here?”
I asked, dreading the answer.

“Not really.
I came down here to go to school at MSU and I joined the Guard to pay for it. I don’t have any family here, just an ex-boyfriend. Although, he’s probably a zombie by now. He lived in a dorm on MSU.”

I didn’t want to say anything to hurt her, but she was probably right.
MSU was zombie central, right now. I’d seen it when we went for the Sheriff. Thankfully, their attention had been on something besides us, or we’d have never made it out of there. Considering the amount of students who lived in and around that campus, it was no wonder the place was crawling with the dead.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” I said.
“Do you want to try to call your folks with my cell phone? It was still working, earlier.”

“No, thanks
,” she relied, sniffling. “I’ve tried mine several times. They both have cell phones and they both go straight to voice mail. The last time I tried, it said that they weren’t in service. I can’t get through.”

“The entire
St. Louis grid must be down,” I said, frowning.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured, too.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll contact the Evac-center,” I said. “I’ll see if they can contact the St. Louis Evac-center and try to locate them for you.”

“You can do that?” she asked, excitement in her voice.

“Sure, why not?” I said. “I’m the Sheriff, now. I’ll bet they’d be glad to help us out.”

She hugged me tightly, then.
Before I realized it, we were kissing. It happened so suddenly, I wasn’t sure I was really it was really happening. Although I knew it was wrong, it felt amazing to feel her warmth against me.

“
Stop,” I said, reluctantly forcing myself to stop. “We can’t do this. I’m a married man.”

“I’m sorry,” she said
, huskily. “I just don’t want to sleep alone, tonight.”

“You won’t.” I promised
, forcing myself to remain strong. “I’ll be there for you, I’ll hold you, but I can’t break my marriage vows. If anything, they’re even more important to me now. With the world going to shit, we have to hold on to something.”

“We also have to take what comfort we can,” she replied
, softly. “There isn’t much left to be had, anywhere. Tomorrow, we might both be dead.”

I opened my mouth to argue with her, but couldn’t find the words.
I was at a complete loss. She was right, but so was I. The paradox was killing me. I think she could sense the turmoil inside me, and pressed it further. I could feel her fingers as they slid down my chest in slow, deliberate circles. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face, and smell the faint traces of alcohol on it.

“Besides,” she whispered
into my ear. “I’d never tell anyone. We both need to be held, and to feel alive after everything we’ve seen today.”

The wheel in my brain was turning, but the hamster was dead.
I couldn’t argue with her, despite wanting to and not wanting to all at the same time. In the end, the vision of my wife being alone with the kids and not even knowing if I was still alive or not won out. I couldn’t betray her like that. She was alive and waiting for me to come for her and the boys. And more importantly, she was
armed
.