Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (44 page)

“Who? Me? Never,” he said, chuckling. “Well, never to an officer anyway.”

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Spec-4.

“It’s an old patrolman’s trick,” I said. “When you have an unruly subject in the back, and he’s handcuffed. You slam on the brakes and bounce them off the cage. It usually tends to quiet them down.”

“Shut up,” she said, grinning.
“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Southard. “Shut up is what I usually say.”

“Does it work?” she asked.

“Like a charm,” said Southard.

“700, is the Delivery Gate clear?” I asked, into my mic.

“All clear, 829.
Good luck.”

The gate started opening.
As soon as the gate was open wide enough, I drove through and stopped just outside. I was blocking the gate while it shut. Once the gate rumbled shut, we continued on our way. I pulled out into the street and turned right, pointing south and stopped in the middle of the road. There were a few zombies scattered around the area, but nothing serious. A few seconds later, I saw the Fair Grove PD Cruiser turn out of the intake gate and pull right up behind us. I waved at them and continued on.

I turned right and headed for Boonville.
I still had to pull up onto the curb to go around the wrecked SUV’s, but otherwise it was clear. At the intersection with the expressway, there were a few more zombies but they were too far away to cause us any trouble. I continued across the intersection and started down the hill towards the square.

A piece of local history hit me as we headed that way.
I’m not sure why it popped into my head, but it did. Wild Bill Hickok had killed a man on this very square back in the late 1800’s. Shot him through the heart with an old revolver at something like 75 yards. That was a hell of a shot with a pistol, even today. I remembered the big revolver on my hip and wondered if I could repeat that shot. I sincerely doubted it without a tremendous amount of luck…and a scope. Maybe not even then.

As we started up the hill to the square, I let off the accelerator and coasted up the hill.
I wanted to minimize the amount of noise I made. There was no sense in attracting too much attention. I slowed almost to a stop as we made it to the edge of the square. Fortunately, there weren’t very many zombies in the immediate area. I drove slowly into the center of the square and stopped behind the two parked Humvees.

“Don’t engage unless we have to,” I said.

Spec-4 and I climbed out and brought our weapons up to provide cover. The Fair Grove guys ran for one Humvee while Sanders and Southard headed for the other one. We were all inside and shutting the doors in less than thirty seconds. Once inside, we locked the doors and I fired up the engine. I was happy to see that both Humvees had an M-249 on the roof.

“Score,” I said, as I started backing out of the center of the square.

I headed back out onto the street, and the other two came right after me. I checked the fuel gage and it showed half a tank. I reached for my radio.

“Southard,” I said.
“How’s your gas.”

“Stinky, why?” asked Southard, chuckling.

“Ok, smartass,” I said. “I meant in the gas tank.”

“Oh,” he said, feigning surprise.
“A little over half.”

“How about you, Wells?”

“Three quarters,” he replied.

“Too bad we didn’t grab the hand pumps out of the other Humvee,” I said, to Spec-4.

“What are you talking about?” she said. “We put them in this one. Our Humvee had the weapons we’d snagged from the meth-heads.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said.
“Maybe we’ll stop and gas up, if we find a clear spot.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Ok, everyone,” I said into the radio. “Give me an ammo and equipment inventory. What did you find inside the Humvees?”

“Six boxes of belted ammo for the 249 and ten boxes for the M-16’s,” said Sanders.
“Plus a few hundred rounds in 9mm.”

“Four cans of belted
and six boxes 5.56mm,” said one of the Fair Grove guys. “And five smaller boxes of 9mm.”

“Each of you has an M-249 on the roof,” I said.
“We did good.”

“You bet your sweet ass,” said Southard.

“Thanks for noticing, Chuck,” I replied.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, laughing.
“Keep dreaming, buddy.”

I drove off of the square on the eastern side.
There were zombies all along the street on both sides, but they didn’t total more than about forty. We plowed our way through them pretty easily. Once we crossed the next intersection, we were passing the Discovery Center. I knew that this street would take us all the way back to Glenstone, so long as it wasn’t blocked off.

Our luck held out until we reached the next stoplight.
Up ahead was what remained of Springfield’s only “Skyscraper. The Apache’s had done their work very well. I didn’t see a single unbroken pane of glass remaining in the tower. There were bodies everywhere and the remains of dozens of burned out vehicles. I wondered if they’d all been zombies or if they’d been survivors. I don’t think it mattered which to the Army, anymore.

The street in front of the dark tower was blocked with
a massive pile up of cars. It looked like people had panicked and tried to exit the parking garage and the hotel across the street. There were probably thirty cars all crashed together. Many of them had caught fire and burned. It would take someone with a tow truck a week to clear this road.

“So much for going this way,” I muttered, pointing at the wreck.

I looked south and could see a large crowd of zombies near where we’d stalled the bus. It had to be the same crowd as before. That meant that south was out of the question. I decided on cutting back north. It was out of the way but looked like the only way to go. With a mumbled curse, I turned and headed north. I had to go up on the sidewalk along the side of the Shrine Mosque. I went to a lot of concerts there over the years. Just thinking about them stuck me funny and I couldn’t help but start laughing out loud.

“What’s so funny?” asked Spec-4.

“Not so much hilarious, as ironic,” I answered. “Do you know what the last concert I went to see there was?”

“At the Mosque?”

“Yeah,”

“No, who?”

“Rob Zombie,” I replied.

Spec-4 busted out laughing.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Not a bit,” I said.
“Ask Southard. He went, too.”

Right about then, my radio came to life.

“Hey, Wylie,” said Southard. “Remember when we saw Rob Zombie here?”

“See,” I said to Spec-4.

“Great show,” he responded. “Kind of brings new meaning to
Living Dead Girl
.”

“Yes it
does,” I said, grinning.

I stayed on the sidewalk and bounced back out onto the street behind the Mosque.
I knew I could get through this way, since we’d gone this way when we came back from the last run. At some point, I was going to have to find a way across Glenstone. Our best chance for rescuing those officers lay in avoiding the main streets and staying clear of hot spots like the Mall or the Hospitals.

I swerved around cars in the road and made it to National, then braked to a halt.
The intersection was choked, but I thought I could force my way through. I could see a gap between a red Mazda Miata and a little Ford Focus.

“There’s the sweet spot,” I said, taking aim.

“Oh crap,” said Spec-4, grabbing the dash.

“Hang on!” I yelled, and took aim.

The Miata practically exploded from the force of the impact. The little car wasn’t made to withstand a collision with an armored vehicle. It went flipping away, throwing pieces of the front end all over the place. The Ford Focus didn’t fare much better. I ripped the rear bumper completely off of it, and drove it spinning sideways into a full-size conversion van. It had the blacked out windows that made it perfect for concealing whatever went on inside. That’s why we called them Perversion Vans.

The Focus stopped instantly when it collided with the van.
The Humvee bounced a little, but nothing more, as we continued on our way east. I slammed into a small knot of about half a dozen zombies immediately after clearing the intersection. It looked like a group of rednecks, complete with bloody flannel shirts. I had to turn on the windshield wipers to clear the gore.

After that, it was pretty clear.
I continued east, following the path we’d taken before. This time, I wasn’t planning on turning before the overpass. I was planning on going under it. About a hundred yards before we reached it, I could see zombies moving around on the top. Unfortunately, they saw us. They started climbing over the rail and stepping off of the bridge. They were hitting the ground like bags of wet cement.

I held my course and prayed that we wouldn’t get hit by one.
Even though it would kill the zombie outright, it might still do some pretty serious damage to us. I almost made it, too. One hit us right on the roof. It hit with a resounding
THUD
that shook the entire vehicle. Blood began running down the driver’s side window.

“Check it out,” I said to Spec-4.

“On it,” she said.

She slid back into the turret and tried to open it.
It wouldn’t budge.

“The damned thing’s stuck!”

“Chuck, can you see our roof?” I said into my mic.

“Yeah, I can,” he replied. “It looks like the damned thing’s impaled on the SAW.
You won’t be able to get that thing off from the inside.”

“Shit,” I muttered to myself, then keyed up again. “Copy that.
Looks like you guys will have to provide cover until we can clear it.”

“No prob,” said Southard. “We’ll watch your back.”

“Us too,” came Wells’ voice.

“Copy,” I said. “Thanks.
Let’s Charlie Mike
[17]
.”

We all made it past the overpass with only my Humvee taking a hit.
It must have looked pretty weird, driving around with a corpse impaled on the machine gun. It certainly left us at a disadvantage. That meant that in a firefight, we’d either have to exit the vehicle or let the other two do all the fighting and that was unacceptable.

“We’re getting this damned thing off our roof,” I said.

“How?” asked Spec-4.

“The old fashioned way.”

As we approached the expressway, I could see that the intersection was blocked. Fortunately, there was an empty lot we could cut through. That would take us to a side street that ran south. From there, I’d have to figure it out. In the meantime, the lot was pretty much clear. Once I hopped the curb, I drove into the center of the lot and stopped.

“What gives?” asked Spec-4.

“Time to do the nasty,” I replied, waggling my eyebrows.

“Right here?” she asked, grinning. “With everyone watching us?”

“Maybe they’ll learn something,” I replied, winking at her. “But I actually meant we were going to pull that zombie off the roof.”

“Yuck.
That is
nasty.
”

“Cover us,” I said into my radio.

Behind us, I could see the other two Humvees take up position on either side of us and stop. A few seconds later, Sanders popped up out of his turret, looking like a GI Joe Jack-in-the-box. It took the Fair Grove guys a bit longer, since they didn’t have the practice that we’d been getting. Once both SAW’s were manned, we climbed out. I brought up my M-16 and quickly swept the area. Behind me, I heard Spec-4 nearly shriek.

“This thing’s still alive!”

I ran around the front of the Humvee and saw for myself. Despite being impaled on the gun and turret, it was still moving. Its head was on the passenger side and the legs were on the driver’s side with part of the SAW visible through its back. The danged thing was still reaching out trying to grab Spec-4. These things never stop, until you destroy the brain.

“Talk about the energizer bunny from Hell,” I said.

Before I could say anything, Spec-4 brought her M-16 up and put a round through its head. Gory brain-matter exploded all over the roof of the Humvee.

“Well, that’s gonna stink.”

“It stinks right now,” she replied, wrinkling her nose.

With a shrug, I went back around the front of the Humvee.
I quickly climbed up onto the hood and walked up on the roof. Then, I grabbed the thing by its legs and started pulling. With a sickening wet tearing sound, the legs came away from the torso. I almost yawned in Technicolor, right then and there. It was a near thing, but I barely managed to keep my lunch down.

Fighting back the rising bile, I grabbed the arms and pulled the rest of the body away.
It fell beside the legs. That cleared the obstruction leaving the weapon, turret and roof covered in zombie gore. We were still screwed. If we used it, we risked getting it all over us. If we got any of that in an open wound, it might be just as dangerous as being bitten. I didn’t know for sure, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. The price of being wrong was too high.