Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (37 page)

“Got it,” said Southard. “Be careful.”

“
We
will,” said Spec-4, chuckling.

“I meant both of you,” said Southard, defensively.

Grabbing my pack and all of my extra gear, I started getting ready to move. Spec-4 did the same thing and shouldered her own pack. Once we were loaded, we turned on our radios and headed off across the street. I knew the streets of Lebanon fairly well, since I had family that lived there. I wondered if they had made it. I grew up in a family of hillbillies from rural Missouri. If anyone could have headed for the hills and survived, it would have been my brothers and sisters.

Crossing a bank parking lot and down a short alley, we came out on a narrow street. I still didn’t see any other movement, so we darted across the street and into the cover of long shadows cast by the afternoon sun.
I glanced down the street to the south and only saw empty storefronts. There were only a couple of cars parked along the street, which unfortunately meant there wasn’t much in the way of cover.

Crouching low, I headed for the nearest parked car. It was an older model Oldsmobile with a dented front fender. I think the original color might have been white, but it had faded to a sickly shade of yellow that looked like bad pudding. The vinyl roof had cracked and peeled in numerous spots along the top.

I took cover behind the rear quarter panel and peered around the back bumper. Spec-4 slid in behind me and put her back against the back door of the car. I still didn’t see any movement from the undead, so I planned my next hiding spot. There was a red S-10 pick-up parked in front of a big brick building that had different colored bricks at the top, spelling out the words “Joe Knight '48.”

I nodded at Spec-4 and motioned towards the truck. She nodded once at me and peeked over the back edge of the trunk. She kept her back against the car and craned her neck over to peer down the street. Then she slid back down to her original position and smiled as she turned to look at me.

“All clear,” she whispered.

I didn’t wait for another chance. I just crouched and spun around the back of the car, moving as fast as I could towards the little red truck.
Ducking behind the cab, I glanced up to see Spec-4 start her run towards me. I went to the ground and lay in the prone position, aiming my weapon at the spot behind the building across the street where I anticipated the undead to emerge. I breathed a sigh of relief when I felt Spec-4 pat me on the leg to let me know she’d made it.

“See anything
?” she whispered.

“Nothing, yet,” I said. “They’re moving pretty slow. They should be here any second, though.”

I kept my weapon trained on the spot. The ACOG sight on it gave me a good view of the entire area. In fact, at this range I could snipe them all with little or no problems. The only thing that would give me away was the report of my weapon. It would be in my best interests to have a silenced weapon with some range. As much as I loved the Beowulf, I might have to consider switching to something I could silence, for times just like this.

Spec-4 watched our backs while I waited for the dead to emerge. I didn’t have to wait very long. The first one stumbled into view from the alleyway that ran between the buildings and the railroad tracks. I had to resist the urge to take the shot and wa
tch its head erupt in a fountain of crimson gore, but the mental image did put a smile on my face.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but what I saw certainly wasn’t it. The zombie stepped out into the road, and then began looking around. It looked in our direction, but we were well concealed and not moving. When it turned towards us, I could see the face clearly. The features were horribly disfigured, with vicious wounds to the cheeks and lips. The eyes were the feature that surprised me.

The dead have very distinctive eyes. They cloud up very quickly, giving them an almost milky appearance. This one’s eyes were bright and clear. There was no indication of cloudiness or discoloration. They even darted back and forth as the “zombie” continued to scan its area, looking for something. That nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach was telling me that something was very, very wrong.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

“What’s going on?” Spec-4 said, quietly.

“Somethin
g isn’t right,” I said. “There's something wrong about this zombie. I can’t figure it out.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There’s something wrong with its eyes,” I explained, keeping my voice low.

“Is it something new?” she asked, sounding worried.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, keeping my crosshairs on the thing in front of me. “It could be. It might have only recently turned, though.”

“How do the wounds look?” she asked, sliding down next to me.

“Pretty nasty,” I replied. “They aren’t fresh-looking at all.”

“Then it couldn’t be recently turned,” she replied, laying her own weapon down and sighting in. “I’ve got a suppressor. Should I take the shot?”

“Not yet,” I replied, after a brief hesitation.

As more of the dead began to emerge, I scanned their faces closely. The only one whose eyes were clear was the first one. The rest had the milky eyes I’d come to expect in the undead. When all eight of them made it into the street, I decided to take a chance at it.

“Do you think you can take them all without giving away our position?” I asked, glancing at Spec-4.

“I’m pretty sure I can drop them all before they get anywhere near us,” she said, winking at me.

“Take ‘em,” I said, nodding.

Turning back to her weapon, she began lining up her first shot. I watched in the ACOG, in case I needed to engage as well. I really didn’t want to make that much noise, but if we discovered that this crowd had
Sprinters
in it, then we might not have a choice. I heard the suppressed cough of her weapon and saw the first target go down with a headshot. Then she moved on to the next target.

The undead just seemed to keep moving. Without any loud noises, they were oblivious to their fellow dead being taken out. Only the one with the odd eyes took notice.
He looked around, frantically searching for the source of the shooting. When the third zombie fell to the ground, it seemed to panic.

The odd zombie broke and ran for a parked car. The other zombies seemed to take note of the sudden movement and turned towards it. The oddball dove behind a parked SUV and stayed down. Spec-4 took out two more while I watched to see
if the weird one would break cover and run for it. While I was waiting, zombies six and seven fell to the ground to rise no more. Now the only one left was the one behind the car.

“Did that zombie just dive for cover?” she asked, wide eyed.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I believe it did.”

“What now?”

“Let’s move in and get a closer look,” I said, getting to my feet.

Spec-4 stood up next to me and we headed for the parked SUV. I went to the right and she swung wide and to the left. We would flank it on either side, catching it in a crossfire. If it acted aggressive in any way, we’d take it out. No questions asked. I had the distinct feeling that
this was something entirely new. Just what, I had no idea.

As I approached by walking down the sidewalk, I could see the feet of the thing as it crouched behind the front tire. Spec-4 was keeping pace with me, but far enough away from the back of the SUV that it couldn’t rush her easily. We were going to have to be very cautious. If it was just another type of undead, I wanted to learn more about it. If it was
something new, then we were going to have to be very careful.

Keeping my weapon at the ready, I approached not sure what to expect. Suddenly, it leapt to its feet bringing its hands up rapidly. Instinct took over and I squeezed the trigger without thinking about it. The massive roar of the Beowulf thundered in the narrow streets, echoing loudly in every direction rolling off of buildings and repeating off into the distance. Stealth was gone. Beowulf had spoken.

My shot struck the “zombie” in the center of the chest. When it jumped up, my instincts kicked in and I fired at center mass. Even after all this time shooting zombies, years of training still had me shooting center mass under stress. It’s funny how things like that work. I didn’t have time to ponder it for long, as I rounded the front of the SUV and stared down at the body on the ground. It’s face was a mass of ruined flesh with strips of meat clinging to the neck and cheeks. The mottled grey skin seemed in stark contrast to the eyes shining clear beneath the face.

I was s
hocked to find that the wound had kept it on the ground. Torso shots rarely did enough damage to keep the undead from getting back to their feet. To my surprise, there was a ragged hole in the middle of its chest with blood pouring out of the wound. Not the congealed darkened blood from a zombie, but bright red blood. I could see bubbles in the blood as it struggled to breathe.

Beneath him, there was a rapidly spreading pool of blood. I could see the eyes were wide open and pleading with me as it reached out with both hands, as if begging me to help. Its mouth kept opening and closing like a fish on the shore, trying to breathe. Somehow
, this creature lying before me was alive. Not merely the living dead, but actually
alive
.

“Holy shit!” I snappe
d. “I think this thing isn’t dead!”

"It will be soon," said Spec-4, shaking her head.

I knelt down beside it, careful to not get in the blood, and grabbed the matted hair on its head. I tugged gently and the entire face came off in my hands. I was left holding a flap of hair and skin like a disgusting Halloween mask. Beneath the mask was another face. Although streaked with dried blood and gore, it was the unmistakable face of a young boy.

I grabbed the skin along the arm and pulled. More skin pulled away, revealing living skin beneath it. Whoever this kid was, he had been wearing the skin of a dead man like a gruesome suit. My son used to tell me about peo
ple costuming for fun called CosPlay. Well, this was more like CorpsePlay. As disgusting as it was, wearing the skin of a zombie had allowed him to walk among them without being eaten.

My mind was whirling from the implications. What kind of person would willingly wear the skin of a dead man to survive in a world full of the dead? The thought was both revolting and frightening. Was this the first time I’d killed a living person, thinking it was a zombie? This kid had done nothing to me, and I shot him down without hesitation. What had this world done to this kid to make him wear the skin of a zombie? What had it done to me?

As the kid stopped moving, I closed my eyes and sighed. I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. I wanted to be sick. He couldn’t have been any older than my middle son, Erik. He couldn’t have been much more than fifteen. This was someone’s son. All I could see was the faces of my own.

“All-F
ather, forgive me,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

“We can’t risk him turning from all that stuff on him,” whispered Spec-4.

“I can’t…,” I muttered, tears on my cheeks and stinging my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and shot the poor kid in the head.

It had to be done. Just to be safe. Just to be certain. I wasn’t sure if she was apologizing to me or to the boy. I’m not sure who needed it more. I felt like he deserved it more than I did, though. We could have helped him, if we had only known. I felt like howling into the sky, bellowing my rage into the heavens. I felt like I had failed.

With my eyes closed tight, I lifted my face to the sky and let the tears flow down my cheeks. I could still feel the horrible scream welling within my soul. Rage, sorrow and guilt welled into pressure and pain in my chest. With the blood pumping in my ears, I could feel the scream. I could feel blood running down my chin as I bit my lip to suppress it.
My hands shook on the grip of my weapon.

“What the hell?” I heard Spec-4 whisper.

I felt her hand on my arm and a firm grip on my bicep. That’s when I realized, I really could hear a soul rending scream. It was echoing all around us. My shot had ended the life of a young boy. My shot had filled me with remorse and anger. It had also alerted every undead around us for miles. They were coming.

It suddenly hit me that I didn’t have time to mourn the boy. If we intended to survive, we had to get the hell out of here and in one hell of a hurry. Spec-4 and I exchanged worried glances. It was dawning on both of us just how much trouble we were in. It was time to move.

“Let’s go!” I yelled, and shoved her back towards the direction we had come.

We both took off retracing our steps, running as fast as we could with the amount of gear we were carrying.

“Southard!” I yelled into the radio. “We’re on our way back. Come pick us up.”

“Clear,” he responded. “We are in route to your position. E.T.A. two minutes.”

“Copy,” I replied. “Less would be better.”

“Understood,” he replied. “Out.”

We ran to the end of the block and hurriedly looked both directions. To the west of us, I could see a mob of the dead emerging from a residential area several blocks away. The leaders appeared to be
Sprinters
. They were coming our way with unbelievable speed. I estimated there to be at least sixty of them. It looked like we were being pursued by a fucking Zombie Marathon.