Thor's Hammer

by Dan Yaeger

  The Pen was bustling with activity, despite Nasser dying on the floor in a pool of blood. They were shocked but had seen and been through worse. It would have been the same for any one of Xavier of his squad. There were hospital curtains up around the dorm-like bed areas in the large room. Maeve had previously established a rule of veiling the sexual exchanges during what Xavier had coined “rock and roll time”. This was after the Doc realised that Xavier and other ex-cons got too excited when they could spy on people and see what was going on. Some curtains also implied some controls, modesty and rules. The Doc was nothing if he wasn’t about at least keeping up appearances.

  At least two sets of other curtains were already closed. These were little private universes for Sirocco and Price. Siro was with his favourite girl, Dimi. Dimi actually had her own “thing” going for Siro and, of all the men she had met, known and slept with after the Great Change, he was her favourite. She always thought that if things were different, they would have been a good match.

  They enjoyed each other and shared the lust and physical pleasures that made them feel human. They knew they were infected and death could have been around the corner. Simply put, even though she was “his girl”, exclusively, their relationship went beyond being just an arrangement with the Doc.

  They gave each other their bodies, that natural comfort, and with a sudden impulse of pleasure, there was laboured breathing and a shared gaze. They lay there, holding each other, for just a moment, almost as honest, loving humans again. Siro looked at the woman he had indulged in. She got his animal instincts going. “You are so fucking hot,” the man shook his head. She smiled at him and replied, “So are you,” flashing her sexiest look and a giggle. Siro ran his hand through her hair. “So fucking hot,” his moment of private indulgence with Dimi was broken as he remembered he was on a mission. He looked at his watch and realised it was time for he and Price to get moving. They had a tiger to trap. He got out of bed and pulled his trousers up. Dimi watched his every move and loved what she saw. He was tanned, strong, fit and masculine; what her dreams were made of. As he did that little jump a man does as he zips his trousers up, something fell out of his pocket and made a metallic clanging noise, rolling under the bed, to Dimi’s side. Before he could investigate or perhaps he hadn’t noticed anyway, they were disturbed. One of the medical panels that held their privacy moved and Siro whipped open the curtain to reveal a ghoulish face; a man from the squads. He had been watching and batting himself off. Siro struck out with his fist, followed by grappling and knees. The pervert was knocked to the ground with a sickening thud. “My woman!” He shouted to anyone who would hear or listen. Dimi pulled her white sheets about her to gather some modesty. The strong Brazilian fighter pulled her gently to him, kissing her passionately. He gazed into her eyes and the look said everything, so much, in a moment. Siro said simply “See ya soon babe,” holding the gaze a moment longer. He turned, looking back, before getting on with his dirty work. He dragged the KO’d man away from her bed. He left that slumped, visual reminder of what happened to those that messed with him or his girl near the entrance of the room; wrecked on the floor. Leon was petrified.

  By this time, Price had arrived and nodded to Sirocco. Their R&R was done and their moments with the women were over. Looking down at the slumped body on the floor, Price simply said “Business as usual for you eh mate?” He high-fived his mate, the deadly Sirocco Silva, and the big pilot yelled “It's mission time!” with some hubris and bravado. Siro smiled broadly and looked over at his girl, thinking “damn she’s hot.” Price grabbed his friend’s shoulder and guided him toward the door, Siro a little mesmerised and not changing his gaze.

  Dimi smiled at him as he turned away. She remembered that he had dropped something and reached under the bed and grabbed a tennis ball-sized device from the floor. She was no fool, despite not immediately knowing what it was, and hid it under the mattress quickly. Before she knew it, Sirocco had come back, looking for what was lost. “Baby- you seen my…Oh! I got another one here, it don’t matter….” He couldn’t help himself and leaned in for a quick kiss, one more time. She had him addicted. And he walked swiftly toward the exit with Price tapping his watch. They were already running late and it was only 8:00am. Dimi wanted to hold onto whatever he had lost; while there were feelings with Sirocco, she was always about business too. Whatever she had acquired could be something to trade or used for her survival. It could mean power.

  Sirocco and Price left the Pen. They walked briskly, heading through the Rock, toward the airfield. “Rob’s squad found nothin’ in Tantangara, he aint there.” Siro said. Price brought some logic into things for a moment. “Sure, but we can check out that house where we saw smoke. The zombies that were there last time would have moved on.” Siro nodded. “Ya, man. That fuckin’ house is where we go.” Price looked at the mission chit; it had all the entitlements for the mission and he did a mental check of the things he had. “Siro, you got the .22 handgun, the Taser, two magazines and the two grenades?” Sirocco felt around his pockets and found one grenade. In his jacket, he found the pistol and Taser strapped to its integral harness. “A’course, man, ‘course.” He lied. He was missing a grenade. He had no idea where it was and would bullshit the Doc, claiming he used it in the battle to capture the Survivor. The Survivor was someone pretty cunning and tough and, even if to create a diversion rather than kill, Siro would use the grenade and pretend he used two. He didn’t want the Doc to have anything over him, especially now a cure was so close. He would pay for it dearly and he didn’t want that little prick to have any leverage over him. “OK, I have my kit, you have yours and the squad has theirs. We are ready!” Price clapped his hands together. “To the bird!” Price said with a powerful voice, excited about flying again.

  “Not so fast slick,” It was the Doc. Dr Kian Penfould stood before them like an actor taking centre-stage. He loved the theatrics and his power in that place. He was obviously but effectively blocking them in that wide corridor. Siro wished he could punch him but the Doc had something he wanted. Penfould held his pipe in one hand, he didn’t want that. The Doc held a leash to Samantha in the other, not that either. It was what Kian Penfould held in his head; the plan for a cure. Without the cure hanging over their heads, Siro and Price would have killed that weak little man right then and there. They looked at the Doc, Siro flicked his head upward and Price said “What is it, Doctor?” Samantha stood upright and did not make eye contact with them.

  “Well, aside from wanting to brag about last night, which I will,” he was smirking and blowing smoke out of his fat, dry lips, “I wanted to reaffirm and perhaps alter my orders to you.” His mood darkened again. “You will need some special equipment and assets I think.” They nodded, waiting to hear him out.

  For effect, Penfould unleashed Samantha and said. “You have proven you can take orders again, go and be with your friends in the Pen. I will send Leon for you when it pleases me. “He shooed her away and clumsily tried to smack her on the bottom, which he missed completely and turned the move into an awkward pointing gesture.

  Without a backward glance, she walked, almost ran in her high-heels while trying to deport herself as the Doctor ordered, down the corridor in the direction of the Pen. Someone passed her in a flash and then was past the Doc too. It was Leon. What the Doc didn’t realise was the implication until later: Xavier Karnovic was in the Pen and not being watched. The cowardly janitor had given up his post in guarding the Pen.

  As Sam disappeared from view, Price indulged him by saying “Doctor that is one fine piece of arse you’ve got there,” as she disappeared from view. ”I know,” Penfould said, “I was either smacking it or bouncing it half the night!” he jeered with his snort and ridiculous laugh. The reality was that his awful affection had lasted but a minute or so and he wasn’t able to get it up again. He had used up the entire male sexual function medicines the town had once had. As a result, Sam was spared his need for multiple indulgences. Sometimes Pen
fould couldn’t even rise to the occasion, not even once in an evening. Nonetheless, Price had done well and the Doc felt powerful and one of the boys again.

  “Anyway, despite our differences and the trouble we have had here of late, I appreciate your efforts and successes, for mutual prosperity” Dr Penfould looked away, only making eye contact on the heavily enunciated last word. “This character we are looking for must be something. To lose three squads to him, and Maeve,” He shook his head. They all had some fondness for Maeve but refused to acknowledge it. They stood there, looking at the ground nodding at the thought of their fallen comrade. “You two have done good things where the others have failed.” He puffed on his pipe, reflecting. “We need to send two squads this time.”

  “Thanks chap, well said and well appreciated.” Price gave him a salute, which Penfould poorly returned but loved every moment of it. “What about Rob? He seems to be doing OK?” Price inquired. “Yes, yes, Rob Chisolm. He is doing well but he doesn’t have the heart for a full-blown war now, does he?” Penfould asserted rather than really asking a question. The nods confirmed his feelings. “Nor the cock for it, as I understand it, but let’s keep that between us!” The awkward laugh and thigh-slap of classic Penfould behaviour was on full show. Even Siro cracked a smile at that one. “Then who Doc?” Siro asked the inevitable question, warming up out of his silence. “Well I thought we ought to leave Squad 4 here, they are my scavengers after all,” he was acting again, looking upward and trying to seem regal somehow. “And young Rob with them. Squire Rob.” Penfould concluded with a self-righteous nod.

  Siro asked again, indulging the theatrics and dance one had to do with the Doc. “Well it is time Squad X got a run again.” Dr Penfould said it carefully to assess the reaction. “Xavier?! No fuckin’ way man!” Siro snapped at him. The doctor flinched at the verbal tirade. “Last time he was too busy battin’ off over a dead body to see we was knee-deep in shit, man. Those army guys, man!” Siro all but beat his chest. “Now, now, he is special but so is our survivor. Xavier and his crew are my special forces,” the Doc continued. “They have unique talents,” he said, puffing on his pipe like a colonel in a 1980s action flick, assembling a crack team to do his bidding. “Nasser was a biker strongman, Wu was a Viet gangster, handy with knives,” he went on, feeding on the hubris. “Elsom can shoot and Rickard was a handy boxer, almost as good as you.” He gestured at Sirocco. The Doc had a point and he made it well. Siro accepted the compliment for what it was and just chewed gum. Price interjected to take things forward. “OK, Squad X can come with us but you have to get Xavier and his people out of the Pen. We aint doin’ it.” Price said with his hands on his hips. “Besides,” Siro looked Dr Penfould in the eyes. I saw Nasser go down in there.” He held the gaze and nodded. Penfould, taking the unintentional bait said “I know our Nasser likes a little muff diving but what has that got to do with it?” He laughed, looked around and self-congratulated on his witty joke. Siro was over the banter and simply said “No Doc, he took a chair to the head.” He nodded as if to say “no shit”. Price nodded in agreement. “Rubbish!” Penfould dismissed it. “By who’s hand? I never gave authority to that!” He almost spat with snotty self-righteousness. “Rob Chisolm had to fight him off his girl,” Siro said a matter-of-factly.

  “That’s not the only body.” He concluded shrugging. “It is a mess in there Doc, you might think about how we can manage our time with the women better in future.” Penfould hated that someone was asking him to moderate his facility. He had a tantrum, losing his airs and graces and the pompous voice he had taken on. He was back to his roots.

  “You go in there and have your fun, drink the mother’s milk and dip your fucking wicks and what I let my other people do is bad? Fuck off bitches!” He waved his clumsy hands around and his pipe clattered to the floor. He would not bend to them, physically or metaphorically. “Leon will pick that up for me later.” He thought.

  “Leon?!” Dr Penfould said aloud. “The bugger just passed us! Who is watching Xavier?!” The Doc’s brain registered what was going on. He was terrified of the impact, not on the women and men of the Rock, but on his credibility and control.

  Siro, stone cold, said “Your bitch in there may be eating Xavier’s shit for all we know.” Siro looked over at Price who looked like an old, red-hot steam engine boiler about to burst with laughter.

  The comment pissed Penfould off, no-end. The thought of Samantha being controlled by anyone but him spurred him into action. His terribly weak gate and “puddling” legs carried him to the Pen, post-haste. He needed to find out what was going on and get control back.

  It didn’t take long to see that Rome was burning without supervision. The doors opened to a room of fear.

  Xavier and his crew seemed to have started a fight that had escalated quickly to anyone being fair game. They would later learn that the all-in-brawl had started over women and goods; everyone had been caught in the middle. Squad 4 and two men from Squad X were laid out. “Where’s the other two from Squad X?” the Doc roared. They had done some damage to the room and this was their last visit, the Doc was sure of it. “Xavier!” Dr Penfould yelled.

  The largest group of people had formed behind Rob Chisolm who had obviously tried to defend himself and others around him. There was a makeshift barricade and eleven women, one with a baby, stood behind Rob. He was covered in blood and had a swollen face but his dependents were all fine.

  “There were 12 women and two babies in here! Who is in charge here? Where is the missing woman?! Who’s got her?” Penfould’s voice broke as he shouted to regain some order to the worst excesses he had ever sanctioned. Having to face this was too much. Almost complete silence. A chewing sound could be heard.

  A horrific voice, cold, somehow excited, as though death itself spoke: “Well that would be me….” The sound came from a curtained off area. There was a still silence that terrified all in the room but one man: Xavier.

  Sirocco nutted up and walked over, drawing the curtain, shining a light on the shame and disgrace of what was behind for all to see. It was unexpected, horrible and bizarre but it could have been far worse. It was Xavier in his element.

  “Do you like my art?” he said smiling from his perch. He was squatting up on two beds that had been dragged together to create some bizarre alter of sorts. Much like a gargoyle, he crouched, blood and gore all around. In the middle of his “platform” stood one of the women, holding her baby. The baby was held high and with strength, as though Xavier was a shark or alligator in some water below, menacing at her.

  The mother looked in fear for her life but physically well. Her baby was fast asleep and unaware of what was going on. The inhabitants of the room slowly and cautiously approached to see what was going on and the entire room except Xavier was entirely disturbed. The corpse Xavier fed on was that of Nasser, to everyone’s surprise. He was lying on his back and seemed to have a hole in his guts and was missing his cock and testicles.

  Sirocco just let out the words everyone was thinking, perhaps not those words, but the same meaning: “Xavier- what tha fuck?!”

  What came next added to the nightmares that would plague some for the rest of their lives. He dropped a piece of Nasser’s meat and said, “The baby is me, guys. It is innocently being nurtured by the flesh. He feeds to become a man and I feed to become an even more powerful man. I have absorbed Nasser’s strength and power,” he continued feeding, looking at his meal as if he was eating dinner at his home table. “This Mother-Mary is my witness, to god, who told me to make a monument to him-“Xavier’s soliloquy was cut short by a devastating overhand right punch from Sirocco. Xavier was out cold.

  “Squad X,” Siro said with subdued rage. “Get tha fuck outta here and get ready. You’re comin’ wit me and Price.” Those that stood or dragged themselves from the floor got up and got out of there. They were sickos but they knew Sirocco had them if he wanted. Sirocco was a champion fighter and feared by even the most dangerous of ghouls in the sq
uads.

  With all the trouble dealt with by someone else, Penfould decided it was time for him to regain and reaffirm his control. “Well that’s that then,” Dr Penfould shuffled around to face his audience like a penguin and put his hands on his hips in a matter of fact way. He knew this was bad and was visibly embarrassed (it was a rare thing). “Double rations tonight and the mission won’t happen till tomorrow.” He smiled sheepishly to everyone in the room and continued. “What you saw here will never happen again: Xavier and squad X are banned, without hope of me revisiting this decision, banned for life from the Pen.” Even he felt ashamed to call it what it was on top of the situation they had all just faced.