Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (24 page)

The last one
lumbered towards me without stopping. I spun the Halligan in an overhead arc and drove the spike down and into the top of its head. It stopped moving instantly and twitched a few times before I yanked the spike free with a crunching slurp of blackened brains. It took one last step and plunged face-first off of the side of the truck and into the zombies below.

I could see more zombies coming in the distance, from both directions. I was in a bad position, almost directly in the middle of the dam. I had to find a way to distract the dead or I'd never make it off of this damned dam. I started looking around frantically, hoping to find anything that might help me get out of this. I found a fire axe and a helmet, but nothing that might be useful. The axe was nice, but the Halligan was a better weapon. I'd
be better off if I stuck with that.

Then my hand fell on the flares in my cargo pocket. It wasn't much, but an idea started forming in my head. I grabbed the helmet and stuck it on my head. Then I grabbed the axe and headed for the back of the truck. I wanted to create as big of a distraction as I possibly could. Since bright lights and noise seemed to attract those things, I had a crazy idea. I just hoped that it worked.

I readied the axe and took careful aim. I was only going to get one shot at this. I took a few practice swings, and then drew the axe back over my head. With a scream to the heavens, I threw the axe as hard as I could and hoped for the best. Time seemed to slow down as I watched the axe flip end over end as it flew through the air. I held my breath to see if my aim was good.

What felt like an eternity
later the axe hit the target, the back window of the patrol car, exploding in a shower of glass with a massive booming sound. It was so loud that quite a few of the undead turned to see what it was. It was good, but not good enough. I was going to have to make a much bigger distraction. It was time to break something. As Spec-4 could attest, I was damned good at breaking things.

I pulled a flare out of my cargo pocket and struck the igniter. It sputtered for a moment before bursting out with a bright red flame that was easy to see against the rising sun.
I let it sputter for a few seconds to make certain that it was going to stay lit, and then I threw it at the now open rear window of the police car. It landed on the trunk and bounced twice before it disappeared into the back seat.

Immediately, the interior of the car was lit up with a hellish red glow. Smoke billowed out of the open windows. Seconds later, the first tongues of flame began to lick the interior.

"Come on, you son-of-a-bitch!" I shouted. "BURN!"

In less than a minute, the entire interior of the car was engulfed in flames. I backed away several paces and crouched low to avoid being seen any more than necessary. I was hoping to get as many of the dead focused on the burning car as possible. I could clearly see the flames leaping skyward as the car continued to burn. Then something unexpected happened. You see, this is the part where my plans tend to take a turn for the worse. The goddamned car exploded.

It didn't just go boom. It blew like a small volcano and knocked me onto my back from the force of the explosion. Burning bits of debris were landing all around me and another car next to it was now on fire. The dead were focused on the burning wreckage now, completely forgetting about me. I kept low and scrambled towards the front of the fire truck to wait for an opening.

When the second car exploded, I wasn't nearly as surprised. I managed to keep my footing and r
ide out the shockwave. Now there were burning zombies among the burning wreckage. The fire was spreading rapidly. I glanced behind me and saw that flames were now climbing up the back of the fire truck. I was officially out of time. It was time to move. It was time to move, NOW!

Leaping to the ground, I smashed the nearest zombie with the Halligan bar and ran for the next car. The zombies weren't paying attention to me anymore. Now they were focused on the firestorm that engulfed the middle of the dam. I had nearly made it to the second vehicle when the
fire truck joined in the celebration and exploded. The force of the huge gas tanks igniting threw me to the ground and singed my back and arms with the heat that washed over me.

The massive force of the explosion rocked the dam like a
massive sonic boom. The entire dam shook for what felt like an eternity before I managed to regain my footing. I quickly glanced around and realized that the dead had fared worse than I had. They were scattered everywhere and struggling to get up. I had just bought myself some much-needed time to breathe.

The
n I heard something that sent chills down my spine. It was the unmistakable sound of concrete cracking. I didn't know if it was from the heat or the explosions. All I knew was that I didn't want to be here if the dam broke. I’ve seen concrete crack from the heat on extremely hot summer days. The heat at the center of that explosion must have been tremendous to cause that much concrete to crack.

I stood up and ran for the end of the dam as
fast as my legs would go. I used the Halligan bar to knock anything out of my path, running like the all of the denizens of Hel were right behind me. I could still feel the heat from the fire on my back as the end of the dam got closer and closer.

There were more of the dead coming, so I stopped long enough to light another flare and tossed it into the open window of a mini-van. It had to have been loaded with fuel and other supplies, because it caught fire almost instantly. I didn't have time to wait for it. I just ran for the end of the dam. As I rounded the railing and headed towards the nearest docks, I heard the van explode.

While not as big of a bang as the fire truck, it did a good job. I just hoped the dam would survive the punishment. If the dam went, then we lost everything on the lake. While I didn't care about most of the things, there was the small matter of my son and Spec-4. I had to get back to them, no matter what the cost.

I sprinted down the slope and onto the dock. There, tied at the end, was the promised boat. It had a large outboard motor and
it was loosely tied with only one mooring line. I didn't waste any time and jumped right into it. I quickly cast off the line and shoved the boat away from the dock. Only then did I realize that there was a large crowd of zombies following me down the dock. I had been only moments ahead of them.

Fortunately, the water nea
r the dock was deep. I drifted rapidly away from the dock and watched as the dead lined up and tried to find a way to get to me. Like before, one would occasionally get knocked off into the water and sink like a stone. That was when I realized I was drifting towards the dam. The current from the spillways was pulling me directly towards them.

I scrambled over to the motor and primed the fuel intake valve. T
he tank looked to be about half full, so I grabbed the handle of the cord and started pulling. It coughed and caught on the third pull. As I engaged the prop and headed away from the dam, I looked back to survey the damage.

The fire was still burning on top of the dam, but I couldn't see any additional drainage. The only place that seemed to be venting water was the open spillways. Despite my nearly suicidal escape from the dam, it would continue to hold back the flood of water that made up the
lake. It wasn't going to collapse, today. Not through lack of trying, though. Thank the Gods for small favors. There was a massive black cloud drifting high into the sky. I’m certain that it could be seen for miles in any direction.

Angling the boat back towards the makeshift island,
I smiled as I lay the Halligan bar across my legs. I took the maul head out of my pocket and held it up to the end of the Halligan. I could imagine welding the hammer to the end and giving it more power to crush. If I could combine the two, it would make one hell of a weapon. Instantly, I knew how it needed to be combined for maximum effectiveness. In my mind, I could see it clearly.

My new weapon
was born. It would be a war-hammer like no other. I had the perfect name for it, too.
Brjótanir
would be its name. It meant
destroyer
in old Norse. It would become
Brjótanir,
the destroyer.

"
All species capable of grasping this fact manage better in the struggle for existence than those which rely upon their own strength alone: the wolf, which hunts in a pack, has a greater chance of survival than the lion, which hunts alone."

- Christian Louis Lange
 

I took my time heading back to the floating island. I slipped the Glock
, that I had found in the hands of the dead patrolman, out of my pocket and checked it over. Other than being exposed to the elements for over a month, it was in good shape. It was dirty and needed a thorough cleaning, but it might still work.

I took the opportunity to clean it out with water to remove any dirt and debris. Then I scavenged a can of spray lubricant from the boat’s tool compartment and sprayed it down. I worked the slide a few times to make certain it moved freely, and then wiped off the excess with a rag. Once I was satisfied that it was as good as I could make it without a cleaning kit, I hid it in my boot and under my pant leg.

Once I had the gun hidden, I continued towards the island. I didn’t have any ammo for the pistol, but I had a feeling that I needed to hang onto the gun. I still didn’t trust the King or his men. I didn’t really believe that they were going to let us go. I wasn’t about to let them keep us as prisoners for much longer. My patience was quickly running out with them.

When I reached the edge of the floating island, the King and four of his men were there to greet me. They were all armed and had their weapons trained on me as I approached.
Or should I say, they had
our
weapons trained on me.

“So much for being a man of his word,” I
muttered.

I
needed to bide my time and wait for the right opening to make my move. I just had to be patient. However, having said that, patience has never been one of my strong suits. Maybe I would have to make my own opportunity. That certainly sounded more like something I would do.

I raised my hands over my head and waited while two of them grabbed my boat and secured it to the edge of a dock. I waited for them to finish before I moved. I didn’t want to
get shot by mistake. Although, that would be right with the way my luck usually runs.

“Now hand over that b
ig-assed crowbar you have,” said one of the men, pointing at my Halligan bar.

Reluctantly, I handed it to him and he snatched it out of my hand as if I was about to attac
k him. Either the King had these guys scared to death of me, or they had less courage than the Cowardly Lion. Still, a coward can kill you just as quickly as a professional can, but more than likely it would be by accident. On the other hand, he might just shoot you out of fear. Either way, I didn’t want to get shot. It wasn’t exactly “Plan A” material.

“Now empty your pockets,” demanded the same man.

He was wearing jeans and a red t-shirt that said “Beach-house Marina” on it in white letters with a white logo of a shark riding a surfboard. He also had on a Missouri Tigers ball-cap and dark sunglasses. His long blonde hair was pulled back in a pony-tail. Not exactly the image of a soldier. He looked more like a bartender.

I handed him my remaining road flares
, the badge and the head off of the axe. I was hoping he wouldn’t give me a pat search. Even a rookie officer would find the pistol in my boot. I breathed a sigh of relief when he had me stand up and slap my pockets for him. He didn’t hear any sounds or see any bulges, so he motioned me onto the deck beside him. No one offered to give me a hand. Once I was standing on level with them, I turned and smiled at the King.

“I’ll be taking our gear and my people, now,” I said. “We’re leaving.”

“Not so fast,” he replied, grinning. “I want to have a little talk with you before you leave.”

“Fine,” I replied, not returning the grin. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You certainly know how to make an impression,” said the King, gesturing at the dam that still had fires raging across it. “You put on a hell of a show.”