Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods (10 page)

Zeke dashes quietly into the street, hopping lightly among the rubble.  He moves fast, but with so many draugr, they’ll notice him before too long. 

Once they catch the scent of fresh blood, they begin to cluster.  They stand between him and the tower.  He raises his sword.  Most are slow.  He handles them with ease.  Corpse-like heads fly.  But there are a lot of monsters.  His progress is slow. 
Can I last until I hit the tower?
he wonders.

Suddenly, something grabs him from behind.  Zeke is thrown on his back.  He looks up at his assailant.  It
’s a clumsy, awkward beast.  One leg is significantly shorter than the other.  Both arms are even, but short.  Its claws look broken.  He prepares to stab upward at the weak enemy. 

Crack! 

A gun fires and the draugr explodes.  Zeke is sprayed with a dark mess of blood and entrails. 

He stands.  Smalls hangs out the window with his gun. 

“You fool!  I said don’t shoot!” Zeke shouts.

But the draugr seem to have forgotten him.  Instead, they amble toward Smalls, who has just spent his last bullet. 

They know he’s defenseless.
The thought makes him shiver. 

Click, click, click, click.
Smalls pulls his trigger endlessly.  It is both a demonstration of hope and an exercise in futility. 

Zeke hops up on a rusted sheet of metal.  He jumps up and down.  He picks up a rock and throws it.  He shouts,
“Hey!  Hey you rotten bastards!  What about me?  You got a gourmet dinner right here!” 

The draugr aren
’t interested in him. 
Are they really that intelligent?  Can they really detect weakness? 
They don’t seem very smart. Instinct, maybe?

An instinct about empty firearms? 

Zeke catches himself in thought and realizes he has to do something.  The hoard of draugr are slowly closing in on the building, and the other men have no where to go.

He shouts again, but his voice is lost as a grenade explodes.

The street lights up with fire.  Some draugr explode.  Others ignite.  Most just keep coming.  Charlie follows Smalls’ cue and fires his own grenade.  The same routine.  Some explosions, some burning monsters.

But the rest keep coming.

Draugr are climbing in through the window now.  Zeke catches a glimpse of a waving arm, but only for a moment.  Over the terrible hissing and screaming of the monsters, he hears the unmistakable scream of pain.  Coming from a human. 

It is too late for Smalls. 

With no way to save the man, Zeke took the opportunity to finish his dash to the guard tower.  He hit the door with his entire body.  For good measure, he knocked with his fist, too.  “Daniel!  Daniel, are you there?  Open the door.  It’s safe.” 

He waited a moment, then the door swung open.  He ran inside and slammed it shut behind him. 

The room flickered with dim light.  Daniel had found a small kerosene lantern and lit it.  There was a cloth tied around his leg seeping with blood.  Zeke took a moment to scan the scene, then pulled out his radio. 

“
Charlie, can you hear me?  Charlie?” 

A moment of silence, then the radio crackled. 
“–got you.  Loud and—“

“
They got Smalls.  You okay?” 

Another pause.  Then,
“Yeah, I’ve blocked the –well, and I doubt –elevator working soon.  The runt – fine?” 

“
Yeah.  I just got here.  Looks like he’s okay.” 

The reception through the concrete walls was terrible.  All he could hear from Charlie
’s next transmission were the phrases “on the roof” and “something’s going down.”

From the top of the tower, Zeke could see the draugr bang up the transport.  Their antics would have reminded him of a band of gorillas, were it not for the unearthly hissing.  They hopped up and down, hit the car with their claws, and rammed their bodies into it as if trying to kill it.  Looking for blood.  All the while hissing like demented snakes. 

“
What do you make of it?”  Charlie asked over the radio. 

“
I don’t know.  Looks like they’re excited about something, though.” 

“
I got a few shots left.  Want me to pick a few of them off?”

“
No.  Save your bullets.  You’ll need  . . .”  His voice trailed off as the draugr screamed loudly.  He saw the monsters in the moonlight, dragging off what appeared to be the canvas walls of the jeep.  They hollered as they tore through the crates, tossing objects left and right. 

“
Holy crap,” the radio said.  “They find a meal in all that?” 

Some of the draugr looked hunched over, playing with something. 

The street lit up in a giant fireball.  Zeke ducked as a mess of draugr and shrapnel flew everywhere.  When the explosion faded, he heard Charlie’s voice.  It was not coming through the radio.  “Take that you garbage-smelling sons-of-bitches!” 

He pressed the button on the radio. 
“What did you do?”

“
Nothing.  I swear.  Damn monsters must have found our bombs.”

He shuddered at the thought. 
“Fine, but don’t get cocky.  There are still plenty of them left, and now we have one less chance of getting out of here.” 

The radio crackled. 
“I know.  How’d those guys manage to blow themselves up, anyway?  Those bombs weren’t even rigged up yet.” 

Zeke didn
’t want to say the answer.  They had set up the detonator.  The same way they knew when Smalls had run out of bullets—they were smart.  Smarter than anyone guessed in the last eight years.  They may not be brilliant, but they knew where the food was, and they knew the crates in the car could help reach it. 

“
Charlie, don’t drop your guard tonight.  These guys are still trying to get us, and they’re intelligent.” 

“
Intelligent?  Yeah, pretty damn intelligent to blow themselves up like that.” 

“
Just be careful.  We’re stuck here until we can figure out a plan.  I’ve got to go take care of Daniel.  I’ll radio again at sunrise.” 

“
Got it,” Charlie replied.  “You be careful too.” 

“
Will do.  Over and out.” 

He clipped the radio to his belt and climbed down the ladder to the interior of the guard tower.  Daniel rested on a table, wincing in pain. 

“Sorry about that,” Zeke said.  A wounded man was not something to be neglected.  “Looks like we’re stuck here, though.  Damn freaks blew up our car.  How are you doing?” 

He looked calm, but pained.  When he spoke, he sounded in a furious panic. 
“Just go!  Don’t waste your time on me.  Save yourself!”

Zeke took a step back. 
“Giving up already?” he asked, genuinely confused.  The wound didn’t appear deep or too severe.  Daniel’s makeshift bandage seemed to be holding up well.  “Let me look at it.  See what I can do,” he offered.

“
You shouldn’t be here.  Just go!” 

Zeke glanced around, as if something were about to jump out and attack him.  He saw nothing. 
“Look, I know I haven’t exactly been friendly with you, but we’re still stuck here together.  I might as well look at your wound.” 

“
It won’t do any good.”

He ignored the boy and peeled up the bandage anyway.  Immediately, blood started to pour from the wound.  The bandage had held the blood, but it hadn
’t clotted.  Zeke knew some animals that fed off blood had anti-coagulants in their saliva.  This made drinking easy, since blood flowed freely. 
Were the draugr like that, too? 

He wiped with the dirty rag.  For a moment, the wound cleared up. 

“It’s bleeding a lot, but it’s not very deep,” he told Daniel.  He pushed the cloth down hard, forcing the bleeding to stop.  Daniel winced.  “So you can stop worrying.”

“
That hurts!” 

“
Quit whining, gunboy.  Don’t tell me you’ve never been hurt before.”  Zeke could see his harsh attitude wasn’t helping.  He tried a calmer approach.  “This is the only way to stop the bleeding.  It might take a while.” 

“
It’s not the blood.  It’s those . . . things!”   His voice was still panicked.

“
What?  They’re out there.  We’re in here.  We’re safe for now.”  He thought of the draugr setting up the detonator and wondered if it were true. 

“
You don’t understand.” He reached up and grabbed Zeke’s arm, pleading for understanding.  “All the legends.  Undead monsters.  Zombies.  They bit me.  I could turn into one at any minute!  You have to leave!  Save yourself!”

Zeke brushed off the grasp. 
“What?  Zombies?  Of all the stupid . . .”  He caught himself and shifted his tone.  “Those are just fairy-tales.  Stories they told hundreds of years ago to frighten children.”

“
Then what are those things out there?  Does anyone
really
know?”  He was still afraid, but Zeke thought he might be calming down. 

He spoke confidently, despite his own worries. 
“I don’t know.  But none of them are, or ever have been, human.  Don’t worry about it or you’ll end up like that Slayer, running around, staking draugr like vampires. 
You will be fine
.” 

Daniel relaxed, looking relieved.  Zeke thought the best thing to do was to take his mind off the injury and the fear.  Daniel
’s guns were lying next to him on the table.  “Do you name your weapons?”

The boy paused for a moment, caught by surprise.  Then he answered,
“No.” 

“
What would you call them if you did?” 

“
I never really thought about it.”  He thought briefly, then said, “I’d have to say ‘Blaster’ for the pistol and ‘Boomstick’ for the shotgun.”

Zeke smiled.  He immediately recognized them as the names of weapons from old fairy-tales and legends. 
“You really do go for those old stories, don’t you?” 

“
Everyone needs a hobby,” he said, starting to relax for the first time that night. 

“
You remind me of someone I know.  Knew.  During the war,” Zeke said, telling the story more to himself than to the boy.  “He was obsessed with fairy-tales.  Said it helped him understand people.  Silly, really.” 

“
My boss is like the same way.”

“
Dumah?”  Zeke seemed surprised, then he caught himself.  “Wait, that’s right.  You’re working with him, not for him.” 

“
What do you call yours?”

“
What?”

“
Your sword.  You must have a name for it.  What is it?” 

Zeke hesitated. 
“Deanna,” he said.

If Daniel was still in pain, he was ignoring it well.  His eyes lit with interest. 
“Deanna?  Who is she?  Some old girlfriend?” he asked with a suggestive smirk.

“
Absolutely no one.” 

He was so honest and sincere that Daniel assumed he
must
be lying.  “Come on,” he pushed.  “She must be someone.  Who is she?” 

“
No one at all.  I swear.  I just liked the name.”

It was clear that the boy didn
’t believe him, but he was either satisfied with the answer or didn’t feel like pushing it, because he stopped pestering. 

For about five minutes.

After a long silence, he asked, “What about Ariel?  Who is she?” 

Zeke had had enough. 
“Look, she isn’t my girlfriend.  I’m just taking care of her.  A favor among friends.  Your bleeding has stopped, so I’m just going to re-tie your bandages.  And then, I’m going to sleep.  Okay?  Tomorrow we have to figure out a way to get home, so I suggest you get some rest too.” 

He blew out the lantern and lay down on the floor without another word.

Chapter Seven: Return Journey

             
The dream began at dawn.

             
A dream?  Thought Zeke.  Am I dreaming again?  Somehow, it felt strange.  Like his mind wasn’t private anymore. 

             
The two boys popped out of the woods.  It looked like they had been there for a week.   They were dirty.  Scratched.  Bruised.  It had only been one night. 

             
“A town,” observed Micah, glancing in the distance.  Across a field of tall grass, they could see buildings.  People.  “Let’s go.”  Zeke followed him through the grass toward the settlement.

             
People swarmed around an open-air market.  All of them busy, no one noticed the two dirty kids who crept out of the field.  The boys were grateful for their invisibility.  They were hungry.  They needed food, and they had no money. 

Micah led them to the main street.  They stopped by a large shop. 
“Wait here.  It’s best if I go alone.”  He handed his bag to Zeke.  The weight dragged him off-balance. 

“
You have a bag that weighs this much and there’s no food in it?”  He was slightly annoyed at their lack of foresight.

“
Food is easy to replace.  I took the things that aren’t.”  With that, he disappeared into an alley.  Zeke waited, standing still for a long time.  His eyes scanned the crowd.  People came and went.  They passed quickly.  Their lives crossing paths with him only for a moment.  He knew they were there, but he felt like he couldn’t see them.  Not who they were, at least.  Theocratic?  Rebellion-friendly?  It was hard to say.  It didn’t matter.  They couldn’t see him either.  To one man, he was just a boy waiting for his parents to come out of the store.  To another, he was waiting for his girlfriend to meet him.  To a woman, he was a thief, eyeing up the crowd.  A thousand different personas to a thousand different people, but no one could see who he really was. 

After the attack on the orphanage, he liked that. 

Nearby, a train whistled.  A few blocks over, uniformed men marched out.  Rebel soldiers.  One shouted into a megaphone.  “All men in the street, line up.” 

Zeke had no choice.  Another soldier came to him and pushed him in line.  Being only fourteen, he was shorter than the others.  They usually didn
’t pick young ones.  They must have thought he was older.

“
Count off by threes,” the soldier blasted through the megaphone.  Numbers cascaded down the line.

“
One.”

“
Two.”

“
Three.”

It came closer.  One, two three, one two three. 
“Uh . . . one?”  Zeke said, unsure of what was happening.  The counting stretched down the line, out of earshot.

             
“Ones, come with me,” ordered the soldier. 

             
What was happening?  Where were they being taken?  These men weren’t inquisitors.  They were good guys.  What were they doing?  And where was Micah?

             
The soldiers ushered the ones onto the train.  The car was mostly empty.  There were no chairs or benches.  Only a few mops in a corner.  The floor was so dirty, Zeke wondered if they had ever been used.  Still struggling with Micah's bag, he found a little space in the back.  He looked out the window, searching the crowd outside. 

             
But Micah was already on the train.  “No, he’s too young,” came his voice.  Zeke turned to see him arguing with a guard.

             
“He’s old enough for the army.  We need the fighters.  The High Theocrat’s been throwing too much at us.”

             
“Then please, take me instead.”

             
Zeke fought his way through the crowd.  When he broke through, he was surprised to see how relaxed his friend seemed, leaning against the wall by the mops.

             
The train whistle blew.  “There is no instead,” barked the guard.  “The orders were to select draftees randomly, by counting off.”

             
“But isn’t one fighter as good as another?”  Micah pleaded, fingering the mop handle.  “I’m stronger.  Older.  I’m sympathetic to your cause.  I’ll fight well.”

             
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the authority to change orders.” 

             
The mop handle leaps from its resting place to crack the soldier on the head.  The man stumbles back.  The train jerks to a start.

             
“Then I’ll change them myself,” growls Micah, once he is sure he has the upper hand.  He swings the mop again, striking the man’s shoulder.  Two more soldiers push their way through the crowd.  “Zeke, go!” 

             
He doesn’t move.  “No.” 

             
Micah eyes up the two new challengers.  Seeing their fallen comrade, they hesitate.  “I’ll be fine.” 

             
“Not without you!”

             
“I don’t have time for this!”  The train picks up speed.  The guards lunge at him.  He swings the mop handle, but there is little room to move on the crowded car.  Zeke dives out of the way as the wooden staff sails above him.  It connects with a guard’s head.  The man falls next to the other. 

             
The last challenger squares off.  Micah tries to lunge, but the door behind him swings open.  There are now two soldiers, and one is behind him.  And the train is moving too fast to get off.  He lays down the mop.  The first guard gets up slowly, rubbing his head.  “Well, orders or no, you’ve both been drafted now.” 

             
“It’s fine,” Zeke said.  “They’ll feed us.  We’ve got somewhere to go now.” 

             
“Yeah,” Micah agreed, softly.  The guards returned to their posts, but kept their eyes on him, watching for more trouble.  “I guess you’re right.” 

             
“You’re not the only one who wants to help the rebellion.”  He thought of his family.  The family killed by war.  Or malak.  He didn’t know.

             
“Well, looks like I still have to look out for you.”  Micah smiled. 

             
“Just tell me one thing.  How did you do all that stuff with the mop?  You don’t know anything about fighting.”

“
I know plenty.”  He took back the bag and dropped it on the floor.  He pulled open the clasps.  It was filled with books.  Zeke knew them well.  They were the only possessions Micah ever cherished. 
Journey to the West.  The Elder Edda.  The Lord of the Rings.  Grimm’s Fairy Tales.
The bag was brimming with them.

             
Micah dug through the bag, producing several volumes from the depths.  These were books the younger boy hadn’t seen before.   The titles and names seemed foreign. 
Bushido.  Musashi.  Kendo.

             
“I got these from that traveler who died last year.  I’ve been studying sword arts from them,” he explained. “But it doesn’t matter.  They’ll teach us to fight now.”

             
The train sped through the countryside. 

              Zeke was woken up by the crackling radio. 

             
“Hey Ze— You –ake?”  There was a short burst of static.  “Wake up!  Ze--!”

             
A groggy hand slapped the floor randomly, hoping to hit the radio.  Finally he found the radio.  “Charlie.  Hey.” 

             
“Good!  You’re--.  –time to get out.  Now.”  He wanted to leave.  Zeke hoped he had a plan.  “Good idea.  We got bullets.  Daniel’s rifle jammed, but we got that fixed.  He’s got his own guns too.” 

             
“No.”  His voice was broken by the concrete wall.  “—don’t under— —tside.  Now. 

              The door opened slowly, creaking.  Orange light streamed in. 

             
Only light.  Nothing else. 

              The street was void of monsters.  Rubble still lined the streets.  Shreds of the transport jeep strewn about on top of that.  But no sign of life except Zeke, Daniel, and Charlie, who was running up to meet them. 

             
It was the first time they had seen the complex in the light without being chased by draugr.  Strange dark brown stains covered everything. 

             
“What’s going on?” asked Zeke. 

             
“I don’t know.  I just woke up and every last one of them freaks was gone.” 

             
“Are they hiding?”  Daniel asked.  “We didn’t see any of them when we arrived last night.  Did they go back to their holes?” He and Charlie looked around for draugr. 

             
Zeke didn’t.  “They’re not hiding,” he said. 

             
“You sound confident,” said Daniel.  “How can you be so sure?”

             
He remembered the malak.  The terrified, torturous screams of the draugr.  The cloud of brown mist.  The disappearance of every monster that had chased him.  “I just know.  They’re gone.  Now we need to get away from here as fast as we can.” 

             
Charlie looked confused.  “Even if they’re gone?” 

             
“Especially if they’re gone.”

             
A booming voice interrupted.  “You folks having some draugr trouble?” 

             
A sturdy-looking man stood in the street.  He was tall with light, unkempt hair.  Thin, but strong, and dressed in ragged, patched leathers.  Several others stood at attention behind him. 

             
“Uh, well,” stammered Charlie. 

             
“We thought so,” said Zeke, taking over.  “But not anymore, I guess.” 

             
The man looked disappointed.  “That’s a shame.  We were picking up your transmissions all night long.  We wanted to show up and cause some trouble, but it looks like you showed them a thing or two without our help.”

             
“Pardon?” 

             
“This place is covered in blood!  You guys must have had an all-out war.” 

             
They looked around at the brown stains.  They were everywhere.  On the doors and windows.  On the walls.  On the rocks and junk in the street.  “Bait,” said Zeke. 

             
“Excuse me?” the man asked. 

             
“It’s like chumming for sharks.  Spread the blood to attract the monsters to this area.  Look at the stains.  They were brushed on.”

             
A demonic passover.  Spread the blood on your door and the beasts from hell will devour your flesh. 

             
“So someone came by and . . . you know . . . painted the town red?”  Charlie was nervous.

             
“We were set up.  We knew it from the beginning.  How else do you explain the guns, explosives, and this goose chase of a mission?” 

             
“Someone wanted us to be ready for the attack,” added Daniel.

             
“And someone wanted us to be attacked.”  Zeke stated.  A brief hush fell over the group. 

             
“Sounds like one of the Karellan’s schemes,” suggested the mystery man. 

             
Daniel turned to him.  “I’m sorry, but who exactly
are
you?” 

             
“Oh, sorry.  I suppose introductions are in order.”  He was very polite.  “I’m just your average, every day, run-of-the-mill pirate.  No more, no less.  Though we do make an effort to stymie the Karellan’s salvage operations whenever we can.” 

             
“Never knew a pirate who talked like that, but I like this guy already.”  Charlie strode forward and stretched out his hand, which the pirate took. 

             
Daniel followed his lead.  “You’ll fit in very well with this crew, then, Mr. uh . . .” 

             
“Berezant.  Joel, to my friends.” 

             
“Little guy’s right,” said the giant.  “Sounds like we’ll get along fine.” 

             
Zeke interrupted their introductions.  “I’m sorry, you said you’re a pirate.  Do you have a ship?” 

              As it turned out, Joel had an entire fleet of ships, which raised suspicion that he was more than a mere pirate.  He was, however, happy to give them a lift back to Nifelheim, and even happier to detail his run-ins with the Karellan’s forces, including his battle with the Muselheim on the previous day, which he explained was merely to distract the government from his sub-marine salvage operation on the sunken ruins of Old Japan.