Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (35 page)

Without thinking about it, I grabbed my M-16 and jumped out of the door.
The lead zombies were still almost twenty yards away, so I let fly with the M-203. The fragmentation round burst behind the front row and among the second. The blast shook the entire Humvee, but had the desired effect. The zombies were scattered. Before any of them could recover, I began firing with the M-16.

I stayed where I was, though.
I had learned my lesson about charging at the group. I concentrated my fire on the ones that were the most mobile. I dropped six when I heard Spec-4 work the bolt on the SAW. I continued to fire into the crowd, trying to do as much damage as I possibly could.

“Light ‘em up!” I yelled, and shot another zombie that was getting to his feet.

The SAW came to life once more, and began spitting out Full Metal Jacketed Death. Once again, she was cutting through the zombies like so much wheat. As I prepared to jump back into the Humvee, I saw the front door to the house open up. Four officers piled out of the house. One was wearing Patrol gray, two in Jail black and the fourth was wearing the blues of a Missouri State Highway Patrolman. They began waving their arms in the air.

I jumped back into the driver’s seat and pulled over to them
so they wouldn’t have to run as far though the dead. They ran out to the Humvee like a group of kids chasing an ice cream truck. As I climbed out of the door, one of the officers in Jail black ran over to me. It was Samantha Patterson from C-shift.

“Grant!” she exclaimed. “Thank God you’re here!”

“What happened?”

“We were overseeing the evacuation of that elementary school up the road,” she said.
“That was me, Greg Mendelson from B-shift, Scott Perkins from D-shift, and Bill Fuller and Brenda Wright from Patrol.”

“
Deputy
Wright,” Wright corrected.

“Did you get the kids out?” I asked, ignoring Wright.

“Yeah,” she replied. “But we got hit by zombies right as the last bus was trying to leave. We held our ground so the kids could escape, but the zombies got Fuller and Mendelson. They would have gotten us too, if Corporal Thomas form the Highway Patrol hadn’t showed up.”

“What happened, then?” I asked, looking around.

“We were almost cut off, and trying to fall back to the Chargers,” she said. “The zombies were almost on top of us when Thomas ran his car into them. It totaled the car, but it bought us some time. He barely got out before they swarmed the car.”

I looked at the Trooper and gave him a smile and a nod.
He just grinned sheepishly.

“Then we all fell back to one the Chargers,” she said, continuing.
“The keys to it had been in Fuller’s pocket, so we had to pile into the other one.”

At this point, we started stacking people into the two vehicles.
A few of us were going to get very well acquainted with each other before we made it back to the jail. Patterson continued as we crowded her and Wright into the back of the Humvee. Parker and Thomas crowded into the back seat of the Bronco.

“We drove down this way to avoid a bunch of zombies we saw on Golden,” she said.
“But when we headed down Weaver, we had to hop a ditch to avoid a wreck. We must have knocked a hole in the gas tank or something. We didn’t make it very far before the car died. We coasted up here.”

“How did you barricade that house so fast?”
I asked, shutting my door and locking it.

“We didn’t,” she replied.
“It was mostly done when we abandoned the car. The front door was standing open, so we ran inside. Perkins and I blocked off the front door while Thomas and Wright cleared the house. They only had to shoot two zombies. Once the house was sealed, I found some white paint in the garage. The backyard has a privacy fence, so we snuck out and put up a ladder. I painted the sign on the roof and hauled butt back inside.”

“How long were you guys in there?” asked Spec-4.

“Overnight,” said Patterson. “We blocked ourselves in there about 1400 yesterday.”

I pulled forward and turned around in the front yard of the house that they’d barricaded themselves in.
Southard followed suit and soon we were back on the street and heading back west. There weren’t as many abandoned cars out this way, so we had an easier time of it.

Soon after we passed the city limits sign for Battlefield, I saw my in-law’s house.
I was waiting to see if it had been barricaded or looked like it had been hit. I didn’t have to wait long. The front door and the garage door stood wide open. One of their cars, a blue Dodge Neon, was in the garage. But their red Chevy Astro van was gone. They’d escaped. I didn’t know where they went or how far they made it, but they weren’t at home. They knew the way to the lake house, so they probably headed there. I hoped they made it.

I took this all in as we passed slowly by.
I didn’t stop to investigate further. I continued on west until we made it to the stop sign by Battlefield City Hall. There was an overturned Battlefield Police cruiser in the ditch beside the intersection and about fifty zombies milling around the area. One of the zombies was in a BPD uniform. I didn’t wait around for them to come to us, I just hit the gas had sped through the stop sign.

“Think he’ll chase us down and give me a ticket for that,” I said, pointing at the BPD officer.

“Nah,” said Spec-4. “I’m sure he’ll let you off with a good chewing.”

“Hell, he’d probably just chew us all for good measure,” I said.

“Flash your badge at them,” said Maddie. “I’m sure he’ll let just you go with a gnawing.”
I chuckled all the way to the next intersection. To our left was a Stop ‘n’ Rob and beyond it was the County line, a little ways farther south. Ahead of us, the road went past the Old Wilson’s Creek National Battleground, and then on to Republic. I really didn’t want to go that far out of our way, so I turned and headed north.

We passed the Battlefield city limits at the intersection of FF and Republic Road.
The intersection was only partially blocked and we navigated our way though without having to ram any vehicles. I was noticing that while we were away from the main parts of town, the numbers of zombies was considerably less. That was good news for us, since it allowed us to make good time.

The intersection at the overpass to the freeway was a little more difficult.
Abandoned cars blocked all of the on and off ramps leading from James River. The overpass was fairly crowded, but not impassible. We had to slow down to a relative crawl to cross it. Several zombies ran up to us and tried to get inside, but met with no success. There weren’t even enough of them to warrant using up our ammo. Spec-4 stayed inside and didn’t open the turret hatch.

Just across the bridge, I had to drive into the grassy median to avoid a large wreck involving an 18 wheeler, a large U-haul truck and an overloaded pick-up truck.
The semi-truck had overturned, blocking most of the road. It had landed mostly on top of the pick-up, rendering it unrecognizable. I couldn’t even tell you the type of truck it was. All I could say for sure was that it had duel wheels on the back and it was red. I’m pretty sure that the occupants died instantly. At least I hope they did.

The U-haul didn’t
fare much better. It had gone straight into the back of the semi trailer, and sheared off most of the driver’s side of the truck. It was amazing that nothing had caught fire. There were zombies milling around everywhere and I had to have Spec-4 get back on the SAW. It only took her a few seconds to clear us enough of a path to get through.

“Isn’t that the Stop ‘n’ Rob that we rescued
those people from yesterday?” asked Spec-4, leaning back inside the turret.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I said.
“It sure seems longer than that.”

“True,” said Spec-4, dropping back inside and securing the turret hatch.

Once she was back in the passenger seat, she grabbed both her M-16 and mine and started reloading them.

“Wasn’t the intersection at Sunshine pretty much blocked?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, “When we were in the bus. I think I can get us through in smaller vehicles.”

“What do you mean you think?” asked Wright, snidely.

“Trust me,” I said, smiling.

Wright didn’t look convinced and I think Spec-4 took that personally.

“Look,” said Spec-4. “We
have
done this before. If Wylie thinks he can do something, I trust him. You should, too.”

“Hey,” said Wright.
“No need to get upset. I just really don’t want to spend another night out here.”

“It’s ok,” I said, trying to smooth things over.
“No offense taken.”

Spec-4 didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes said it all.
She was pissed. I’m not sure why Wright struck such a nerve with her, but she did. Sergeant Daniels chimed in and tried to change the subject.

“Wylie?” he asked. “How long do you think it will take us to get back to the jail?”

“Depends on how many obstructions we run into. I can’t see it taking too much longer, assuming we don’t run into any more firefights.”

“I’m not saying that I think you guys can’t do this or anything,” said Wright, not getting the hint.
“It’s just hard for me to trust my life to a…”

“Lowly jail guard?” Spec-4 finished for her, venom in her voice.

“Well, since you put it that way,” said Wright. “Then, yeah, pretty much. The jailers are mostly just a joke. A bunch of babysitters who think they’re law enforcement.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.
Here we were, doing our best to survive and Wright couldn’t get over the fact that she was a Patrol Deputy and I was just a
jailer.
I hit the brakes and slid to a stop.

“What did you just fucking say?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Yeah,” said Sergeant Daniels. “What did you just say?”

“I think I was pretty clear,” said Wright. “I’m the only Patrol Officer here.
I should be calling the shots, not some black shirt.”

“I’ve held my commission for ten years, now,” said Sergeant Daniels.
“And, I’m a sergeant on top of that. You aren’t even a corporal.”

“So what,” she replied. “So you’re a sergeant in the jail.
That means exactly squat in the field.”

“Wylie is the Sheriff,” said Spec-4.
“Did you notice the badge?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” snapped Wright. “So what?
So he picked it up and pinned it on when a better man died. That doesn’t make him Sheriff.”

“How long have you had your commission?” asked Sergeant Daniels.

“Six months,” she replied. “What’s your point?”

“And your six months experience makes you better than an officer who has served in the jail for years?” he asked, his voice
growing soft.

“Hey, those who
can
go to Patrol,” she snapped. “Those who can’t, sit in the jail.”

I thought Sergeant Daniels was going to shoot her, from the look on his face.
Hell, I wanted to shoot her myself. Spec-4 looked livid. She started to say something, when I put my hand on her arm and shook my head.

“Don’t bother,” I said.
“This is the kind of crap we get all the time. She’s all of 22 and thinks she knows it all. I spent more time in the Army than she did in school, but I am still just a
jailer.
You won’t change her mind.”

“When we get back to the jail, I’ll be assuming command of this group,” said Wright.

“
IF
you make it back to the jail,” said Sergeant Daniels. “You’re welcome to take some ammo and a vehicle and be on your way. Not only will you NOT be in charge, if you try to cause trouble, I’ll shoot you myself.”

Wright reached for her pistol, but Spec-4 was faster.
Her Beretta appeared in her hand, as if by magic.

“You can slowly take out that Glock and hand it to me,” said Spec-4.
“And if you so much as twitch wrong, not even the zombies will be able to find your brains.”

“Wilder,” I said.
“Put the gun down. There is no need for us to be at each other’s throats. I couldn’t give a shit about her opinion.”

“No one at the jail is going to follow a rookie officer who thinks she can tell a group of veterans what they can do just because she’s commissioned,” said Sergeant Daniels.
“That kind of respect is earned.”

“We’ll see,” hissed Wright.

“Get out,” I heard myself saying.

“What?” replied Wright, surprised.

“You heard me,” I said. “Get the fuck out. You can have your weapon and we’ll give you some ammo, but get the hell out of my vehicle.”

“You can’t do that,” whined Wright.
“I won’t survive.”

“That’s right,” I practically screamed at her.
“You won’t survive on your own! None of us will! We have to pull together and work together or we’re going to die!”

Wright didn’t say anything; she just stared at me with hate in her eyes.