Read Online Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) by D.A. Roberts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: D.A. Roberts
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are there?”
“Just two left out of six. It’s me and an EMT. The rest are dead. Well, sort of.”
“Understood,” I said. “Hang on, I’m coming.”
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving without you.”
“Th at’s good,” I said, grinning, “Because you’re gonna have to kick in for gas.”
“Wylie?”
“Yeah, Chuck.”
“Less than 15 would be much appreciated.”
“Copy that, brother. 829 out.”
Up ahead, I saw the overpass for Valley Water Mill Road. There wasn’t a ramp on the north side of the overpass, so I had to improvise. I drove under it, and then cut back up the other side onto the on ramp. I was going against traffic, but really couldn’t care less for traffic laws at the moment. When I hit the top of the overpass, I took a sharp left and accelerated hard.
“Easy, there,” said Spec-4. “Wylie, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said, carefully watching the road.
“I’m Corporal Chrissy Wilder. 1138 th Military Police Company.”
“ Good to meet you. Sorry, but I didn’t catch your name earlier. I’ve been mentally calling you Spec-4, all this me.”
“That’s ok. Keller and I were calling you guys Badge 1, 2 and 3.”
“Keller? I guess he was E-2. Sorry about that,” I said.
“Yeah, you too.”
“Shu was alright, but I can’t say I’ll miss Henderson.”
“You mean Deputy Henderson,” she said, smiling. “Yeah, I can’t say I’ll miss him, either.”
“You caught that, did you?”
“Yeah, like you and Shu weren’t shit.”
“We get that a lot from most of the roadies.”
I explained about the difference between roadie and jailer. All the while, I kept a close eye on the road. I was passing through a residential area and there were quite a few zombies around. Some were busy eating. What, I didn’t want to know. Others tried to chase us, but we were moving way too fast for them. This road was mostly clear and I was clocking close to 60 MPH.
“Do you mind reloading all the weapons?” I asked, holding my Glock out for her to take.
She took it without hesitation.
“I’m already on it.”
I’d been too busy watching the road to notice.
“Would you like an inventory of what we have on hand?”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“Can do,” said Spec-4.
Sorry, old habits die hard and I would probably always mentally call her by that nick-name. It was pretty much rooted in my brain, now.
“We’ve got two assault rifles, three shotguns and five pistols,” she said. “That i ncludes yours. Probably a couple hundred rounds of ammo of various calibers and eight magazines for the rifles. The pistols and shotguns are all reloaded.”
She handed me back my Glock and reached over and put two fresh mags in the empty holder on my belt. I shoved the Glock in my holster and kept driving.
“Great job,” I said, “and thanks. I’ve got a bad feeling we’ll need these before we make it back.”
She smiled, but didn’t say anything. But she did lay my Mossberg right next to my right leg. She’d refilled the sling bandolier and reloaded it for me.
“What did you say you did in the Army?”
“I didn’t,” I replied, grinning.
“You take charge like a crusty old Sergeant Major,” she said, fishing.
I just smiled.
I had to swerve to avoid a pair of zombies in the middle of the road that were eating what looked like an elderly woman.
“I may need you to open the turret hatch,” I said. “Can you crawl in the back?”
“No problem, Sar-Major,” she replied, and nimbly climbed into the back seat.
Then she reached up and snagged her M-16 and the two Berettas. She already had one holster clipped to her Interceptor vest, so she took the other holster off of E-2’s Interceptor and clipped it on. Then she tucked away extra magazines for both weapons into the mag pouches.
About that time, we were approaching a curve in the road. We were almost at the Valley Water Mill Park, so I slowed almost to a stop. It was a good thing I did, too. Just around
“Just two left out of six. It’s me and an EMT. The rest are dead. Well, sort of.”
“Understood,” I said. “Hang on, I’m coming.”
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving without you.”
“Th at’s good,” I said, grinning, “Because you’re gonna have to kick in for gas.”
“Wylie?”
“Yeah, Chuck.”
“Less than 15 would be much appreciated.”
“Copy that, brother. 829 out.”
Up ahead, I saw the overpass for Valley Water Mill Road. There wasn’t a ramp on the north side of the overpass, so I had to improvise. I drove under it, and then cut back up the other side onto the on ramp. I was going against traffic, but really couldn’t care less for traffic laws at the moment. When I hit the top of the overpass, I took a sharp left and accelerated hard.
“Easy, there,” said Spec-4. “Wylie, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said, carefully watching the road.
“I’m Corporal Chrissy Wilder. 1138 th Military Police Company.”
“ Good to meet you. Sorry, but I didn’t catch your name earlier. I’ve been mentally calling you Spec-4, all this me.”
“That’s ok. Keller and I were calling you guys Badge 1, 2 and 3.”
“Keller? I guess he was E-2. Sorry about that,” I said.
“Yeah, you too.”
“Shu was alright, but I can’t say I’ll miss Henderson.”
“You mean Deputy Henderson,” she said, smiling. “Yeah, I can’t say I’ll miss him, either.”
“You caught that, did you?”
“Yeah, like you and Shu weren’t shit.”
“We get that a lot from most of the roadies.”
I explained about the difference between roadie and jailer. All the while, I kept a close eye on the road. I was passing through a residential area and there were quite a few zombies around. Some were busy eating. What, I didn’t want to know. Others tried to chase us, but we were moving way too fast for them. This road was mostly clear and I was clocking close to 60 MPH.
“Do you mind reloading all the weapons?” I asked, holding my Glock out for her to take.
She took it without hesitation.
“I’m already on it.”
I’d been too busy watching the road to notice.
“Would you like an inventory of what we have on hand?”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“Can do,” said Spec-4.
Sorry, old habits die hard and I would probably always mentally call her by that nick-name. It was pretty much rooted in my brain, now.
“We’ve got two assault rifles, three shotguns and five pistols,” she said. “That i ncludes yours. Probably a couple hundred rounds of ammo of various calibers and eight magazines for the rifles. The pistols and shotguns are all reloaded.”
She handed me back my Glock and reached over and put two fresh mags in the empty holder on my belt. I shoved the Glock in my holster and kept driving.
“Great job,” I said, “and thanks. I’ve got a bad feeling we’ll need these before we make it back.”
She smiled, but didn’t say anything. But she did lay my Mossberg right next to my right leg. She’d refilled the sling bandolier and reloaded it for me.
“What did you say you did in the Army?”
“I didn’t,” I replied, grinning.
“You take charge like a crusty old Sergeant Major,” she said, fishing.
I just smiled.
I had to swerve to avoid a pair of zombies in the middle of the road that were eating what looked like an elderly woman.
“I may need you to open the turret hatch,” I said. “Can you crawl in the back?”
“No problem, Sar-Major,” she replied, and nimbly climbed into the back seat.
Then she reached up and snagged her M-16 and the two Berettas. She already had one holster clipped to her Interceptor vest, so she took the other holster off of E-2’s Interceptor and clipped it on. Then she tucked away extra magazines for both weapons into the mag pouches.
About that time, we were approaching a curve in the road. We were almost at the Valley Water Mill Park, so I slowed almost to a stop. It was a good thing I did, too. Just around
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