Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) (55 page)

“Fine,” he said. “but only one of you may come inside.”

I handed the block of C-4 to the First Sergeant and nodded.

“Here, take this,” I said. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, blast your way inside and come get me.”

“No problem,”
he replied. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” I assured him.

Spec-4 didn’t look happy about the situation, but didn’t argue. I turned towards the big steel door and it began to hiss open. Light spilled out from inside and I half-expected to be fired on. I brought my own weapon up and swept the opening, my finger lightly touching the trigger. Spec-4 and McDonald also brought up their weapons, ready to return fire.

There was no one inside the small room. It looked like a concrete airlock
, with a similar door on the opposite side of the room. I saw no windows or markings on the plain walls. Only a camera pointing in each direction a recessed light in the ceiling kept the ten by ten room from being completely empty. It was painted a uniform light grey on the walls, floor and ceiling.

With a quick smile and a nod at Spec-4, I stepped inside. I had no more than cleared the threshold when the door began to hiss shut behind me. I glanced back to see a concerned look on Spec-4’s face, but she made no move to follow me. I felt my ears pop as the room pressurized. The entire facility must have been on positive air pressure to keep contaminates out. That meant that they had been working on something that required a clean environment.

I spun back around when the other door began to open. I brought my weapon up, but didn’t point it directly at the three people who emerged as the door slid open. The first one was a man dressed in a white lab coat with a clipboard in his hand.

The other two were in Army uniforms. One was a man in his mid-twenties,
his name-tag read Walters and he was wearing E-5 Sergeant’s rank. The other was a girl that couldn’t be much more than twenty-one. Her name-tag read Baines and she was wearing E-3 Private First Class rank. They were both carrying M-4’s, but didn’t aim them at me.

“Hello,” said clipboard. “I’m
Doctor Emil Saltzman. I’m the project director for this facility.”

“Sheriff Wylie Grant,” I said, not extending my hand. “Nathanael County Sheriff’s Office.”

“Oh, my,” he said, frowning. “You’re a bit outside your jurisdiction, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think that matters, anymore,” I replied. “There aren’t that many
people
left. Old jurisdictions are irrelevant. We’re just trying to survive, now.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “What can we do for you,
Sheriff
?”

I hated it when people did that
. It might have been the end of the world, but that didn’t mean people had to be disrespectful. I mean, come on. I didn’t address him as
Doctor.
All of that aside, I wanted some answers and I had a feeling that we were in the right place.

“Tell me about the
Stalkers
,” I said, without thinking.

It occurred to me then that he would have no way
of knowing that’s what we called them. Before I could say anymore, he spoke.

“Stalkers, huh?” he said, smiling. “Is that what you call them?”

“What should I call them,
doctor
?” I returned.

Alright, I could only resist doing it for so long.
I don’t think the irony was lost on him. He gave me a measured look before continuing.

“What you refer to as a
Stalker
,” he said, frowning, “is what happens when the Reaper Virus infects one of our test subjects.”

“What kind of tests?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“We are a government research facility funded by the Department of Defense,” he said. “Our research is classified.”

“By whom?” I
demanded. “I don’t think there's anyone left in your chain of command. When was the last time you were in contact with anyone?”

“Well, it has been some time,” he admitted.

“Besides that,” I said, anger creeping into my voice, “if your
experiment
is loose, then I’m pretty damned sure I need to know what the fuck I’m facing.”

That seemed to make him think. He frowned while he chewed his lower lip, considering the situation. I could see that he had reached some sort of dec
ision when he looked up and sighed.

“Alright, Sheriff,” he said
reluctantly, “I’ll tell you what I can. I can’t give away the process, but I can at least warn you about what you’re up against. This facility was working on a project called
Predator
. We were taking volunteer test subjects and genetically altering them with the DNA from an African Panther. We were trying to create an enhanced soldier that could operate nocturnally without the need for night vision equipment.”

“And it worked?” I asked, incredulously.

“We had a certain amount of success,” he admitted. “However certain issues arose. They became difficult to control and extremely sensitive to light. In addition, they exhibited hardened dactylic keratinous extensions.”

“You mean claws, right?” I interrupted.

“Yes,” he said. “I believe that’s what I said.”

Sergeant
Walters rolled his eyes at the doctor. I had the distinct feeling that he talked to everyone like that. It probably hadn’t made him many friends.

“How light sensitive are we talking?” I asked, already having a pretty good idea.

I wanted to test him and see how honest he would be with me.

“They don’t do well in well-lit areas,” he said. “For example, they will close their eyes and go dormant during times of mild light exposure. A strong porch-light or security
light should suffice to keep them away from a door. However, they will hide from bright light sources, such as direct sunlight or something of similar intensity. They are completely nocturnal.”

“How did they become infected by the Reaper Virus?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“We were ordered by our chain of command to deploy the test subjects in an attempt to slow the advance of the living dead,” he explained. “We did meet with limited success, programming the Predators to attack the dead. We had hoped that their unique metabolisms would be resistant to the Virus. We were wrong. Once they were infected, they turned and we could no longer control them. We had to lock them out of the facility to keep from being destroyed.”

“Let me guess,” I said, “since they couldn’t return here to hide from the sun, the
y found another method. The bottom of the lake.”

“So it would appear,” he admitted, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Now, since we are cut off from our chain of command and have no way to evacuate the area, we stay inside the facility and try to make our supplies last.”

I didn’t like this guy. Something about him just rubbed me the wrong way. He was condescending when he spoke to you and seemed to enjoy rubbing his intelligence in your face. It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings for him to be eaten by his creations.

“How is it that they seem to know when to hide?” I asked,
shaking my head.

“They’re programmed to seek out dark places when they sense that it is getting close to sunrise,” he explained. “It’s just a matter of instinct.”

“Why do they keep coming back here?” I asked. “Why don’t they move off into more darkened areas?”

“Eventually, I believe they will,” said clipboard. “Once they break all of their conditioning. Originally, they were programmed to return here before sunrise. Now they just return to the area. I doubt it will be long before they stop returning to this area and find shelter in abandoned buildi
ngs and caves. Anyplace that offers complete darkness.”

“How many of them are there?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“We created four hundred and eighty of them,” he explained, putting his glasses back on. “I’m not sure how many of them remain active.”

“Too damned many of them,” I said, angrily. “Is there a way to shut them down?”

“There was,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Our failsafe no longer works now that they have all become infected with the Reaper Virus.”

"What was the failsafe?" I asked, looking hopeful.

"It was an implant that would fire a directed shot of atropine into their carotid artery," he said. "We tried activating them, but it had no effect."

“So much for that idea,” I said, disappointed.

“We knew how to stop them before they became infected,” he said, shaking his head. “Now, it’s anyone’s guess. All of our data is useless, now. We don’t know how they will react, now that they’re dead.”

“They’re like nothing I’ve seen,” I said,
softly. “They own the night. They can dodge attacks, plan ambushes, even climb onto your roof and smash their way into buildings.”

“We’re aware of all of that,” he said, frowning. “What do you think happened to the rest of the facility?”

“How many of you are left down here?” I asked.

“I’d rather not tell you,” he said, guardedly. “You don’t need to know our capabilities.”

“I was going to offer to let your group join ours,” I said, trying to sound calm.

“No thank you,” he replied. “We’re fine on our own. We will continue to man this facility until relieved by our chain of command, or until we have no choice but to abandon it.”

“Suit yourself,” I said, shrugging. “I thought I’d offer.”

“Now, Sheriff,” he said, annoyance in his tone, “if there’s nothing else, I have work to do. If you would be so kind as to leave the area, we have nothing further to discuss.”

“Fair enough,” I said, glaring at him.

Sergeant Walters kept his face neutral, but Private Baines frowned and gave the doctor a dirty look. I had the distinct feeling that not all of the people down here wanted to remain under his command. I would like to have helped her, but we had
bigger problems on our plate.

Now
we knew that there were only a limited number of
Stalkers.
As long as they didn’t turn their victims into more of them, we had a good chance of stopping them. If everyone they bit became a
Stalker
instead of just a zombie, we were big in trouble.

After the doctor and his two guards had returned inside the facility, the outer door was opened for me to leave. I exited quickly and the door hissed shut immediately behind me. Spec-4 and the others were waiting for me when I came out and looked relieved that I had returned at all. I had to admit, I was as well. I had learned a lot from our little visit, but I had expected trouble. My gut told me we weren’t out of the woods, yet.

“Wylie,” said Spec-4. “We were starting to get worried. What happened in there?”

“I’ll explain once we’re all back on the boat,” I said. “I’d rather tell everyone at the same time. It’s a long story.”

With that, we headed up the stairs. I had the sudden urge to plant the explosives on the door anyway, but I resisted. I felt marginally better once we were back out in the sun. We all headed back to the boat, careful to watch the area around us just in case. I didn’t relax until we were all back on the boat and heading away from that place. It really made my skin crawl.

“If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live.”

-
                    
Marcus Tulius Cicero

I told everyone the tale as we headed down the lake towards the dam. Ahead of us, I could see dark clouds moving in. They were heavy thunderclouds and it looked like we would have another big storm. I could already feel the cool air blowing towards us and smell the hint of moisture in the air. It wasn’t going to be long before the storm hit us will full force. I wasn’t sure if we could make it to the dam before the rain hit.

“I’m not liking the looks of those clouds,” said Sanders. “Do you think we’ll run into the storm?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered. “The real question will be how long before it gets here?”