Thor's Hammer

by Dan Yaeger

  It was pathetic: an attempt to belittle and humiliate me after belittling the French. While I wasn’t myself I would never tolerate that shit, especially not from him. I stared back, smirking at the thought of what I would say over dinner and just then. “Jesse, with his wicked sense of humour is back,” I thought.

  “Well Kian, I actually would be happy to be French but I am not at all, as far as I know. The modern French have lots to be proud of really. Art, high-culture, cuisine, their beliefs of liberty, equality and fraternity: so much more too. Giving people the freedom to be, excel, think and innovate is something I admire. Nothing like the prison you are running here.” I concluded. The Doc’s face drained of colour and his mouth went dry.

  Our drinks arrived with a spinning, whirling Leon appearing with a silver tray. The cowardly waiter could see something was brewing between me and the Doc and wanted to finish serving and get out of there quick-smart. He was gone in a flash, minus all the theatrics and showmanship.

  “You what?!” Penfould scowled as his gin and tonic had arrived in front of him. He was stunned; they all were. I had crossed him, outwitted him at his own game but the cake was to have some icing. “But you may not like the French due to your family history.” I looked him in the eye and he could not return the courtesy. I continued carefully and factually “I guess you are of ethnic Chinese origins, given your name, but from Vietnam. I can tell by the accent.” His eyes were wide, he stuttered but couldn’t speak. The room fell silent. “The French ruled Vietnam for a long time. I believe it was called Indochina; your people actually took on aspects of French culture before reasserting their own in a revolution reminiscent of the French themselves. Fascinating stuff.” I sipped the gin and tonic and continued, gesturing with the glass to give an almost imitation of his flamboyance. “So I would have to beg to differ; I don’t mind the French at all.” I concluded with another sip. It was good stuff.

  Penfould spat his gin out. “Poppycock! I’m not Chinese or Vietnamese!” he yelled at me from across the table. More pomp and hubris from a poorly rounded, ignorant try-hard.

  I looked over at Sam who was fighting a smile, perhaps even a laugh. Rob had no idea what was going on; he looked as though he had seen something for the first time. Penfould was being outwitted, without fear of retribution. It got me to thinking that I could continue a campaign to outwit him and take away that aspect of his perceived mightiness; it crystallised my plan. Word would spread of his ignorance and my pointing it out. The delusions that this man was anything but a boor and a fool had to finish. People in the Rock needed to wake up. It was a new-found mission of mine and something I could work out while I was working through my grief for Jen.

  Penfould was a fool but he wasn’t entirely stupid; he changed the subject.

  “So,” Penfould said awkwardly. He tried to sip his gin but ending up running half of it away from his clumsy, greedy lips and over his front. He used a napkin to try and dab it away and Leon came rushing over only to be shooed away by his master.

  Leon looked at his cheap watch and ran out of the room. Penfould looked at our minor puzzlement and said “He does that just before the food burns! He burns I burn! Ha! Huzzah!”

  He was the only one laughing. There was an awkward pause where we all looked down, into our drinks, looking for something to slice through the tense atmosphere. Leon returned with a roast tray, covered with roast beef and roast vegetables. None of us had seen a meal like that in a long time. Penfould was showing off his power.

  “Impressive wouldn’t you say?” Penfould looked left and right at the table, looking for approval and admiration. “Leon here witnessed the whole process, the butchering and gutting, for this meal.” He puffed on his pipe and gave his vile grin. “Barlow did it for us with great enjoyment and made Leon here watch until he hurled! Remember the smell of the entrails? Feeling sick Leon? Ha!” Leon was gagging, clearly squeamish over butchering animals and eating them.

  The intent was pure evil, and that mattered. My plan and resolve to humiliate the Doc was reinforced; I wanted to take him out of action altogether. Those people needed some pay-back and to be shown they mattered and appalling attempts at dehumanising would not continue. Justice was needed.

  But that hot, steaming platter of food stirred primal instincts that had to transcend pride and righteousness. I needed to eat and to heal but I needed to show others the Doc’s behaviour was sub-standard and would not be left unchecked. “Yeah, it’s hard with things we don’t feel well about. Sorry about that. You don’t mind?” I looked at Leon and then the food. “Not a problem to me mate, just don’t expect me to eat it.” The nervous waiter responded. On that note I nodded and dug into the food. Others followed my lead, including the Doc who hated that I had led the group in his presence.

  Penfould hated that Leon had been given a voice, any at all, even just for a moment. The main meal had been a little subdued, given the whole situation and tension. The only notable events other than people digging in were the Doc demanding drink refills and his face to be wiped. Leon complied and looked a little despondent as he wiped away gravy and fibres of beef from the Doc’s lips.

  Just when I thought things were calming down and the Doc had been put back in his box, it got worse.

  “Speaking of beef and cows: its milk time!” Everyone looked at one-another with trepidation. Leon returned quickly with a shot-glass of milk for Rob and Sam but nothing for me or him. Sam and Rob drank down their glass under the watchful eye of Dr Penfould.

  “Well now,” Penfould was gushing with some depraved thought and his vile smile could not be bridled. “Jesse, you are immune so you don’t need any. But where does that leave me?” he said with his arms wide as though he was shrugging and expecting something or someone to come to him. And then I realised. My mouth shot off “You can’t be fucking serious?!” just before he said it. “Sam, come and feed me my milk.” He ordered her in a stern tone.

  “No fucking way? You are a sick fuck! A pig of a man! You know no bounds of human indecency.” I stood and my lips curled and I snarled like a tiger and roared like one too. “Get a glass like everyone else you little pig; you are not a baby!” I yelled strong and hard and the Doc looked ashamed and scared, even though I was wounded and not an immediate threat with my shackles and cuffs. He could see the battle lines were drawn and he may not receive any mercy later. He was right but he showed some restraint for a moment.

  “Calm down you foolish barbarian, a harmless joke my good man,” Penfould tried to cover it up and pretend it wasn’t what it was. “Leon, another shot-glass please.” The young fearful man gulped and nodded, running off to the kitchen.

  My courage was infectious and, to my surprise, Sam spoke up.

  “No, you have done this before,” Sam said looking down and crossing her cardigan across her front as if to shield her chest and keep her body private and with dignity.

  With his attempted public humiliation of Sam quashed, he turned back to me. “A barbarian like you comes into my house and rattles everyone?! Who do you think you are talking to? Do you know who I am?” the Doc looked even uglier when he was mad. “No moon-face, I think you are a nobody.” The room was shocked. This was stepping into unchartered waters for all of us.

  His face turned into a terrible sneer. Penfould was doing what all sickos do. He was turning it back on me as if his disgraceful behaviour was my fault. “You want to see depravity and nastiness do you? You want barbaric behaviour and rudeness?” He had been put in his place and humiliated in public for the pig he was; “Good” I thought. The Doc continued his tirade.

  “You will go to the Brig, to the little cell there, and enjoy Barlow’s company,” Penfould filled his pipe clumsily and spilt his gin with shaking hands. “Suckling from the teat? Indeed! You will eat no more at my table this night.” His sour, moon face was like a caricature. “He is not civilised like me,” he continued, saying to no-one in particular. He lit his pipe with shaking hands and smoked it.

&nb
sp; “No matter, you will learn some manners and you can dine with me in a week’s time and tell me all about it. You little self-righteous know it all!” He gave me a filthy look of hate and I smiled at him. “Barlow? Who gives a fuck about Barlow? I killed your Xavier and your Maeve. Maybe I will kill him too? Maybe you as well?” He looked shocked and scared as I menaced at him defiantly.

  “No, you will be taught some manners and you will come back compliant.” He looked off nonchalantly and puffed his pipe. My smile continued as his power diminished. I felt a surge of high spirits and the confidence to defy and overthrow the Doc grew with every moment and every reminder of my mission. He had given me the time I needed to heal. I would kill the Doc and set us all free.

  “Thanks for the meal, Doc.”

  Chapter 8: Midnight Expressed

  I was in for a tough night. Rob handed me over to Barlow whose smile and eyes said it all “I’m going to have some fun with you.” Rob couldn’t look at me. I didn’t care. I wanted him to go back to the Pen and tell all the ladies what had happened with Penfould. It was part of my plan. Penfould had been outwitted and was losing his control and power over everyone. I wanted everyone to know, not just think or theorise that the Doc wasn’t that smart or powerful; to know he was nothing.

  Barlow was a heavy set man with a gut that had taken many moons of laziness and poor eating to cultivate. He was in a leather vest, jeans and leather chaps. He even wore a black leather biker’s cap on his normally bald, fat head. There was a big metal emblem that matched the patches all over his biker leathers: “CT Hogs”. He was a brute who was known to brutalise and that’s what I would get. I was planning on recovering, yes, recovering, in that place; get strong for the main event. The Doc had given me a week before he planned on parading me into his chambers, a crushed and subdued man. I had other plans.

  “Get in there!” Barlow growled, wiping his greasy chops with the back of his hand. He had indulged in a slab of steak and tomato sauce. The plate was a mess and the only leftover was a bone. “A mess with a bone,” I thought. I gulped at the metaphor and what would become of me at the hands of this brute.

  To my surprise, he went back to listening to some blues music and tinkering with some motorcycle parts. He had a lamp which illuminated his workbench but the periphery of the room was dim and gloomy. Now and again, he would watch me watching him and smirk. The comment “Do you like what you see boy?” was a most worrisome response; the last moment I watched what he was doing. I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. “Or do I?” my mind was calculating how the plan could work.

  I curled up on a piece of foam in the corner, bum to the wall and, to my surprise, drifted off into a comfortable sleep.

  “WHAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHTTTT?!-BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!” I woke with a start, covered in freezing-cold water and hit with two flood-lights. The bright lights hurt my eyes and I was suitably shocked out of a sleep-cycle. I stood bolt-upright and tried to shield my eyes from the light, staggering back over by wet foam mattress that had provided me the only comfort I was going to have over the next 7 days. Barlow was hard to see but he was there as my bleary, bloodshot eyes struggled to make out his form. Barlow sniggered, Penfould at his side too. I could make out their silhouettes despite the bright lights blinding me from behind the bars and behind them. Penfould was laughing like an awkward schoolboy. Instead of losing my shit and going off at them, I decided to smile and smirk back at them, as if to say “is that the best you’ve got?” It worked as the laughing stopped dead and without being able to be sure of their faces, was pretty confident they weren’t smiling or smirking anymore. “Try and sleep well Jesse, I will make sure you don’t,” Penfould said as he waddled off.

  I got out of my wet outer clothes and hung them around the cell. My shirt was hung in a strategic position to block the intensity of the floodlights over a spot in the corner. Barlow was watching me intently and I realised I was on his menu. His interest was piqued as I got naked. That interest turned to shock when he saw my physicality and strength and he realised I could destroy him with my bare hands. His face was both intrigued and scared. If he came into the cell that night, he knew he would leave in pieces. Anyway, I smirked back at him like I always had with the school bullies.

  With all that light and space and not a zombie in sight, I concluded that things could have been worse. I just got on with it. I was freezing cold but shivered and shook and warmed the patch of ground, turned and enjoyed that while my other side cooled and so on. With the lights still on me, dulled only by my shirt, I drifted off again, with sheer exhaustion whispering at me until I slumbered.

  “Argh! Fuck!” I said as I was woken with a start. A broomstick hit me in the top of the head, the eye-socket and in the ear as it was jabbed at me ruthlessly and quickly. “Fuck you, you fat fuck! I dare you to come in!” - it got to me that time. Barlow wouldn’t dare. With Barlow whooping and jeering, I moved again and tried to sleep. As I tried to sleep, he ran the broomstick up and down the rungs on my cage and made enough noise to wake the dead. Little did any of us know they were coming for us anyway, noise or not.

  Barlow found range on me again in the next position and the same thing repeated, woken by the broomstick, until I found a spot his stick couldn’t reach that was neither wet, nor did his buckets of water pool there. This floor was never designed to be a wet area. The lino floor underneath me was swelling and bubbling with rot. Barlow’s tactic to use water on sleeping prisoners had obviously been used many times before. This was the first night and I learned a lot about the space I had and how to avoid Barlow’s jailer torments. The shirt, the location to avoid being hit; all good intelligence gathered to survive in there. I had to survive another 6 nights of schoolboy torments while my body healed. But the Doc got bored and it was only 4 nights until he wanted to dine and rub my nose in it. In the meantime I was enjoying the Doc and Barlow’s hospitality.

  Barlow too must have gotten tired as the torments stopped sometime in the wee hours of the morning. He must have needed some sleep too. Given the Rock was short on people; no-one else came and bothered me. I assumed Penfould was busy with Sam and true enough; I got another 4 hours sleep. I needed it to recover from my injuries and like any person, needed sleep to recover from the stresses of the world.

  I awoke to the floodlights being off and sunlight emerging through a small window adjacent to the roof. My little safe position in the cell was pretty good and with a little change of position, I could see the sky and the top of a couple of trees from that window; heaven. The only fall from that grace was that the room also housed Barlow’s fat arse and he snored like a freight train. It’s hard to ignore a cacophony like that.

  “Snort, snort you fat fuck. All-aboard the pig-train!” I yelled at him to interrupt his sleep. I amused myself talking shit out aloud, hoping he would hear or wake up to that. He snored and slept on through. He was tired from last-night’s amusements. A man of that weight and fatness was terribly unfit and I could outlast him, even in my wounded state. It was a tactical advantage which I would exploit. I continued to call him names or just start singing randomly, to rattle him and wake him up. “Two can play at this game!” I thought to myself. I am sure the fat jailer heard some of what I said but he lay there in his cot and didn’t react.

  Leon came in with a box of jumbled items and a lady behind him carried breakfast. Barlow turned over but didn’t wake from his cot. The lady was a pretty young woman with straight dark hair who smiled at me, embarrassed. I realised I was in some underwear and nothing else.

  “Alicia, give him the meal” Leon all but prodded her to do so. I figured that the girl was to diffuse my potential violence or just was simply a sacrificial lamb for which they didn’t care. “Putting a young girl to serve a dangerous killer?” I thought to myself and then thought about the label I had just given myself. I realised I needed to send a message to the good, innocent people of the Rock that I wasn’t dangerous. Leon put the box of oddities down on one of Barlow�
��s workbenches and then began to open a tray on my barred cell.

  A crude but solidly hand-welded bar section was unlocked and a tray of food was placed on it with the girl encouraged to “hand it” to me. Leon gestured and shuffled nervously saying “go on, go on,” She looked terribly scared and even if it could have been an avenue of escape, I already had another plan taking shape which didn’t involve an innocent person like her. She looked a little like my mother, this Alicia. I could see a loveliness and innocence in the young lady that had not been corrupted. I smiled at her and realised the Rock, its people, not the Doc, held hope for humanity.

  Alicia had been forced to look after my breakfast that morning but she had done it with care. The food looked great and I was hungry. This was despite the large amount of food I had consumed the previous evening. I smiled at her and she looked a little scared. I realised I must have looked like a dog in a cage and she was worried I would bite the hand that feeds. “Go on you bitch!” Leon said and I realised he was a snivelling rat like his master. I felt sorry I had apologised to him for the Doc’s beef incident. No more care would be given to him from that moment on. It was clear the women in that place needed to be liberated and free to choose their way of life, how they lived and who they chose to be with. “You’ll have freedom young Alicia,” I said to myself.

  “Go on you-“I glared at Leon, one of the cogs in the evil machine of Dr Penfould’s Rock; he shut up and took a step back. With the opportunity being what it was, I was still an opportunist and I gently grabbed her hands on the tray. She recoiled a little but succumbed to the pull and moved inward as I tried to speak with her. She looked into my eyes with fear for a moment only to relax as the grasp was strong but gentle. “It’s OK,” I said nodding and smiling gently. “The Doc’s days are numbered and we will all be free soon.” I felt her hands relax even more and she could tell I was not one of the ghouls of Xavier’s squad or psyched out prisoners that usually occupied this place. I was one of the good people who sometimes came here and planned to leave. Others had not. The Rock was good at attracting people and having them disappear, I would soon find out.