The Reckoning - 02 (22 page)

             
When I got to the door, the others had fanned out in a defensive perimeter while Bowman worked on the door. I glanced at Southard, but had to concentrate on other things. Moving over to Bowman, I saw that he was pulling hard on the handle trying to force the lock. It wasn’t budging.

             
“Use this,” I said, handing him my combat knife.

             
“It’ll break,” he said, taking it.

             
“Then break the damned thing! Just open the goddamned door!”

             
Switching from the bow to the M-4, I took the safety off. I briefly considered going full-auto, but decided I’d better conserve the ammo. Southard, however, had other plans. Parked between us and the on-coming horde was a delivery truck. It had O’Malley’s Auto Parts on the side. Southard casually flipped his weapon to full-auto and opened fire on it.

             
He controlled his bursts to three rounds and on the third burst, the gas tank on the side of the truck detonated. I could feel the heat from the explosion wash over us in a wave. Instantly, the crowd of zombies disappeared behind a wall of fire. There was no way that they could see us, through the blaze.

             
Glancing back at Bowman, I saw him shove the tip of my knife into the gap in the door close to the lock. Leaning his powerful frame into the handle, I heard the door creaking. With a metallic ping, the blade snapped off about three inches from the tip. Bowman glanced at me and shrugged before shoving the broken blade back into the gap.

             
The blade was much thicker towards the middle and Bowman grunted with effort as he exerted tremendous force on the door. I was certain that it was going to snap again, when there was a loud pop and the door came loose. With a sigh, Bowman pulled it open and stepped aside.

             
“Ladies first,” he said, motioning for me to go in.

             
“Everyone, get inside,” I said, shoving the nearest person towards the door.

             
I was the last person through the door and glanced back to see if we were being followed. The fire was still blazing and only a few zombies had tried to go through it. They were burning and flailing around, but no longer pursuing us. I slipped inside and shut the door behind me.

             
“Let’s find a way to secure this door,” I said, as I pulled it shut.

             
It was dark inside, and everyone grabbed their flashlights. Bowman found a heavy mop and shoved it though the inside handle. He wedged it against both sides of the doorframe. I pushed on the door and it seemed solid.

             
“I think that’ll do, for now,” I said. “So long as none of them saw us go in this door, they shouldn’t even try to open it.”

             
“Let’s hope so,” said Spec-4, glaring at Southard.

             
I grabbed Southard and shoved him against a wall. I grabbed his gun arm, but he punched me in the face with his left hand. I took the punch without retaliating, and used his momentum to put him face first against the wall. My mouth was bleeding, and I silently thanked the Gods that Chuck wasn’t left handed. His armored fist hurt like hell, as it was.

             
“Damn it, Chuck,” I hissed in his ear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

             
“Get off me!” he snarled, shoving back against me.

             
I held him firm, but it took all my weight to do it.

             
“You nearly got us all killed out there,” I snarled. “What were you thinking?”

             
“I handled it,” he snapped. “No one got hurt!”

             
“Not yet,” I said, quieter now. “But every zombie in the area is moving towards that explosion. Getting out of here might be impossible.”

             
That seemed to take the wind out of his sails. He stopped resisting and closed his eyes.

             
“I’m sorry,” he almost whispered, after a moment. “I didn’t think it through.”

             
“Can you guys give us a sec?” I asked the others.

             
“We’ll sweep the building,” said Matthews.

             
“Stay away from windows and glass doors,” I said.

             
They headed off in pairs, Matthews with John and Bowman with Spec-4. Once they were out of the area, I relaxed my hold on Southard’s arm.

             
“I know what this is about,” I said, gently.

             
Southard turned around and looked at me, his eyes moist.

             
“I miss them, Wiley,” he said, not meeting my gaze.

             
“I know you do, brother,” I said. “I do, too.”

             
“It hurts, man,” he said, almost shrinking into himself. “It hurts, so bad.”

             
“I know it does.”

             
“It’s my fault,” he said, almost too softly for me to hear.

             
“No, it’s not,” I said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Chuck.”

             
“Yes it is! I sent them to the Evac-center. I sent them to die.”

             
“You had no way of knowing that would happen,” I said. “We both trusted the government to take care of them. I never imagined they’d do something like that.”

             
“I just want to be with them, again,” he said, tears running down his face.

             
“I know you do,” I said. “And one day, you will be. The Lady Frigga will watch over them and keep them safe until you’re with them, again.”

             
“You know I don’t buy into your Viking stuff,” he said, without looking up.

             
“Maybe not,” I said. “No matter what you believe in, believe that they’re in a better place. Believe that they’re waiting for you to join them and that there’s something worth fighting for. Otherwise, there’s no hope left.”

             
“What does your religion say?” he asked, looking up at me.

             
I hesitated for a moment, gathering my thoughts. I’m no
Gothi
[7]
and I wanted to tell him how it felt when I took my path. How I felt like I’d come home when I took up my Thor’s Hammer. I wanted to choose my words carefully, and not make any mistakes. Chuck’s life could depend on whether I could offer him comfort and hope.

             
“Ok, Chuck,” I said. “I’m not sure I have the right words, but I’ll try. We believe in a time called Ragnarok. I used to think it was a metaphor, but now I’m not so sure. Ragnarok is the end of the old world. It’s a time when even the Gods will fall. But, from the ashes of the old world, a new one will rise where we’re free from all the old troubles and pain.”

             
“And you believe that?”

             
“I’m not explaining it the way it needs to be, but yeah I do,” I said. “A man should always believe in something, well,
bigger
than himself. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

             
Southard didn’t say anything. I could see he was churning things over in his head.

             
“Look, Chuck,” I said. “It doesn’t matter what
I
believe. What matters is what
you
believe? If you don’t believe in something then when you die, it’s over. There’s nothing. No point in anything, good or bad. However, if you believe you have something to reach for. Some reason to fight when all hope seems lost.”

             
“I
want
to believe, Wylie,” he said, softly.

             
“I’m not going to try to force my beliefs on you,” I said. “That’s not my way. If you believe you’re going to see them again, then you need to decide what you believe in. Because I still believe that there is something worth fighting for. I won’t quit until I’m dead.”

             
“Ok, Wylie,” he whispered. “I’m with you.”

             
I took my Thor’s Hammer from around my neck and slipped it around his. He looked quizzically at it in the dim light of the flashlights. He held it in his fingers and stared at it, rubbing it gently, reverently.

             
“I can’t take this,” he said, without looking up. “I know how much it means to you.”

             
“Take it,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s always brought me strength. Right now, you need it more than I do. Thor’s a Warrior’s God. Wear that with pride. We’re still in this fight, and we’ll make our families and ancestors proud.”

             
“I don’t have a family anymore.”

             
“Yes you do,” I said. “Part of Asatru is being part of a Kindred. A Kindred is much more than just a family. You’ve always been part of mine, even if you didn’t know it. You’re family to me. You all are.”

             
“A Kindred….”

             
“We’ve got work to do,” I said, gently. “I need you with me. You can’t be doing things like what you just did. You’ll get us all killed.”

             
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his chest.

             
“Don’t sweat it,” I said, “Just remember that we’re all in this together.”

             
“I will,” he said, looking up at me.

             
“And one more thing,” I said.

             
“Yeah?”

             
“I think you knocked out one of my teeth,” I said, grinning.

             
“Really?” he asked, looking shocked.

             
“No,” I answered. “You hit like a girl.”

             
That made him grin and he almost looked like the old Chuck Southard, again.

             
“You’re just lucky I used my left hand,” he replied, smiling broadly.

             
“Come on,” I said, recovering my flashlight from the floor. “Let’s go help the others.”

             
We headed farther into the library. We met Spec-4 and Bowman near the main desk. Matthews and John were just returning from the east side of the library.

             
“We’re all clear,” said Spec-4, softly. “The exits are secure and I didn’t see any sign of anyone or anything inside.”

             
“Same goes for us,” said John. “We’re clear.”

             
“Good,” I said. “Let’s get some books and get the hell out of here.”

             
“How do we find the books we need?” asked Bowman. “The computers are all down.”

             
“Easy,” I replied. “We do it the old fashioned way. We use the Dewey Decimal System.”

             
“Look at the ends of the shelves,” said John. “They’re labeled.”

             
“Hit the 500 and 600 sections,” I said. “That’s sciences and technology.”

             
“How’d you know that?” asked Spec-4.

             
“When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time in libraries,” I replied. “And that was back before everything was on the computers.”

             
“Yeah, it was originally called the Wylie Decimal System,” said Southard.

             
I gave him the infamous one-fingered universal sign language and grinned at him. Everyone got a good chuckle out of that. Southard just flashed me a smirk and headed off towards the reference section.

             
Everyone split up to cover the most area. Bowman and Matthews stayed near the desk to cover the exits, just in case something tried to get inside. The rest of us went book hunting. My first stop was in the mid 600’s. I snagged every book they had on brewing and distilling alcohol. Not just for the drinking value, either. Alcohol would be a valuable fuel, once gasoline was unattainable. You could run just about anything on alcohol with a few modifications.

             
Next stop was the mid 500’s. I was looking for one book in particular. I knew it would be here. I looked through it before when I was researching hunting spots near the lake. It was a reference book, so I knew it couldn’t be checked out. It had to be here, unless someone else had already done what I had in mind.

             
After a few moments of searching, I found it. It was a large, heavy book, but it would be worth its weight in gold to us. It was a book of topographical maps of the state of Missouri and would be a valuable asset if we were going to find an alternate location to set up a defensible shelter. This book would give us detailed maps of types of terrain, elevation and both natural and man-made features.