Valhalla

by Jennifer Willis

  * * *

  After the Valkyries had roared past on their motorcycles, Thor parked his pick-up just inside the stand of young saplings. He slipped out from behind the wheel and reached into the truck bed for his tool box. Thor popped the box’s latches and reached inside for the hammer—then nearly dropped it when he felt the metal tool zing in his grip. He turned the hammer over, trying to find the source of the vibration, but it was just a standard Vaughan Blue Max from Home Depot.

  He gripped the wooden handle and watched light spark and then sizzle into an electric current that raced across the metal head.

  “Thunderbolts,” Thor smiled quietly. Raising the hammer aloft, Thor ran full-speed into the White Oak stand. “Vikings!” His voice boomed across the battlefield. “Einherjar! To war! To death! To glory!”

  A deafening roar erupted from the surrounding forest as the new Vikings—in football uniforms, blue jeans, and cheerleading outfits—came pouring out of the trees. Cutting through the forest from the service roads, they formed a tightening ring around the Berserkers already in the stand.

  “Go, Viks! Go, Viks!” came the muffled yells from beneath the plush head of Victor E. Viking as the team mascot stumbled out of the woods, still in full costume. “Here we go! Vikings! Here we go!” He clapped his hands, did a few disco moves, and pumped his fist in the air. “Victory! Victory! Go, Viks! Woo!”