Valhalla Virus

by Nick Harrow

  “Much,” she agreed. She traced the line of his sternum with one nail. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course,” Gunnar said. “Anything.”

  “I’m afraid,” she admitted.

  “Of the jötnar?” Gunnar asked.

  “Yes.” Mimi pressed her hands against Gunnar’s chest, her nails lightly dimpling his skin, as if she were afraid she’d fly off into space if she didn’t hang onto him. “They’re terrifying. But what really scares me is how much you all mean to me. That’s why...I wanted you to know. I wanted us to give ourselves to each other, with nothing held back. In case...”

  Mimi angrily swiped at her eyes with the back of her left hand. Gunnar knew she was right. Any of them could die out there tomorrow. Hell, Hyrrokkin could attack them in the night and toss their corpses through the penthouse windows.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” she whispered. “Then you turned up on my doorstep with the plague at your back. I really thought about shooting you and sending your girls off to dispose of the body.”

  “Glad you didn’t,” he whispered into her hair. She smelled like wildflowers and caramel tinged with the faint aroma of the strong, black coffee she loved so much.

  “Fuck you,” she said, tears trickling down her cheeks as she looked up at him again. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “This isn’t how I thought I’d end up, you asshole. I never loved anybody, never needed it. Now I’ve got three of you stupid cunts weighing on my heart. It hurts, Jolly. Christ, but it hurts. How can I care so much?”

  “I know,” he said, gently stroking the curly ringlets of her red hair down her back. “Nothing hurts like this. But it’s worth it.”

  “I always thought you were too, I don’t know, hard to feel like this,” Mimi said.

  Gunnar’s barking laugh startled them both with its suddenness. “God, I wish that was true.”

  The story spilled out of him, one word after another, until the trickle of truth became a flowing stream he couldn’t have stopped if he’d tried. He told her about how scared he’d been that his love for Ray would burn them both and chase her away. How relieved he’d been when she finally fell for him, all the way. About the brief slice of time when they worked together at YmirRe, sure they were saving the world and so in love they couldn’t imagine anything would ever change.

  “Arthur took it all away,” Gunnar said, his voice choked with emotion. “All because we were both going for the same promotion. He told them I’d stolen data from the servers. Planted a thumb drive in my locker. That ended my career in security. Ray couldn’t be with me after that. Even if she believed I was innocent, my name was poison in the industry. I could have fought it, maybe. But proving I was innocent would have taken forever, and it would torture Ray, never knowing if I was guilty or not. So I took my lumps and cut her loose. She was too smart, too talented for me anyway. I had to let her go. And I was terrified I’d never see her again.”

  “That’s why you looked like a whipped dog that day you walked into the bar ,” Mimi whispered. “I thought you were just another biker junkie. If I’d known—I’m so sorry,Gun.”

  “Me, too.” Gunnar laughed again. “It was a long time ago. And now look where we are. If I hadn’t let her go, I wouldn’t have met you. If you hadn’t been such a dick to me, I wouldn’t have had to go underground. I’d never have learned all the things a bodyguard has to know. I wouldn’t have saved Ray, or Bridget, or been saved by you.”

  “Thank you,” Mimi said. She kissed him softly, her breath warm and soothing against him, and then curled up beside him. “I promise you, I won’t run. No matter what it costs. And don’t you dare tell the others that I cried. It’s bad for my image.”

  “Don’t worry,” Gunnar said as he hugged Mimi until she groaned. “I won’t tell anybody what a big ol’ pussy you really are.”

  “You’re such a dick,” Mimi wheezed. “Let’s get out of here before you crush me.”

  Chapter 17

  GUNNAR WATCHED THE Luxor until deep in the night. He nursed glass after glass of Samuel Adams’ Utopias, a beer he’d heard rumors about during his previous life on the streets. The ludicrously expensive bottle with a street price of almost two hundred dollars a fifth didn’t do much for the bodyguard. He would have preferred a simple glass of bourbon but didn’t trust himself to stop after one. The last thing he needed tomorrow was a hangover. He lazily tugged on a cigar, too, idly wondering if it was an illegal Cuban job. Not that laws mattered much to the assholes who’d once stayed in these penthouse suites. He imagined them looking over the city, watching the ants scurry below them, living piggy banks they could plunder whenever the mood struck them.

  Most of those parasites were dead, now. Gunnar shuddered to think any of them had made the jump to jötunn. That would be a beast that really needed killing.

  The telescope didn’t show Gunnar anything he didn’t already know. There were a shit-ton of jötnar hanging out near the Luxor. He watched as more of the creatures went in and out of the glossy black casino. The glass panels that lined the pyramid reflected the torches they carried and the bonfires they’d lit. Those leaping flames seemed more fitting than the Strip’s neon lights ever had. Finally, Gunnar let himself fall asleep in one of the reclining chairs scattered around the patio. The cold didn’t bother him anymore, and he felt more comfortable under the stars than inside.

  When the rising sun roused him from his sleep, Gunnar headed to the kitchen and started work on breakfast. There was plenty of bacon in the refrigerator, as well as sausage, eggs, a dozen varieties of cheese, some bell peppers that had seen better days but were still serviceable, and enough orange juice to drown an entire legion of jötnar. “One big-ass omelet, coming up,” Gunnar said to himself.

  He’d almost finished the bacon and sausage when Ray shuffled into the kitchen, wiping sleep from her bleary eyes. “God, that smells delicious. If you’re not making enough for everyone, I’ll kick you square in the balls.”

  Gunnar chuckled and plucked a few more slices of crispy bacon out of the sizzling pan. He wiggled the cooking tongs in Ray’s direction, then plopped the slices onto a plate lined with paper towels. “I don’t know if you deserve any of my meat.”

  Ray crossed the suite, her bare feet making no sound as she left the carpet for the tiled kitchen. She hugged Gunnar from behind, pressing her breasts against his back, one hand sliding under his shirt to scratch the skin beneath his navel. “Let me change your mind,” she said, her voice low and smoky. “Sounded like you and Mimi were tearing the walls down last night. I hope she can walk today.”

  Gunnar stirred the bacon and sausage around in the pan and chuckled. “Just trying to keep the troops happy,” he said. “I hope it’s working.”

  Ray squeezed him again and pressed her cheek against his back. Her hands roamed farther up to his chest, fingers splayed flat as if she wanted to memorize the contours of his body. “It’s working,” she confirmed. “But you’re still not off the hook with me.”

  Gunnar would have rather fought a dozen jötnar than have this conversation. “It was five years ago. Can’t we just let it go?”

  Rayleigh tightened her grip on him for a moment, then stepped around to lean against the counter where she could look at him. Her eyes were fierce and determined, but her frown was more sad than angry. “I want to,” she said with a sigh. “But I’m not sure you really get why I’m still pissed.”

  “I shouldn’t have run,” Gunnar started.

  “That’s not,” Rayleigh made a frustrated sound deep in her throat and threw up her hands “Never mind. I don’t want to turn this into a fight. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “I’ll take that truce,” Gunnar said with relief.

  He scooped the last of the bacon out and offered a crispy slice to Ray as a peace offering. “Round up the others. I’m making an omelet big enough to feed an army. The four of us will make a battle plan over breakfast.”

  “You got it, Commander,” s
he said, her words dripping sarcasm.

  Gunnar let his mind drift as he finished the sausage, chopped peppers, cracked the eggs, and got to the serious work of finishing up breakfast. He knew Ray was pissed that he’d made the unilateral decision to leave YmirRe, and her, all those years ago. But he didn’t know how to fix it.

  “Feed us!” Mimi demanded as she and the others arrived and took seats at the bar looking into the kitchen.

  “Hold your horses,” Gunnar said. “This is hard work.”

  The witches offered less than helpful advice while he worked over the stove, and he ignored them. They cheered when he finally cut the massive omelet into four thick slabs and served it up on crystal plates that probably cost more than the Accord they’d stolen from Caesar’s had when it was new. The bodyguard paused for a moment at that thought and scratched at the thick beard that had sprouted from his chin. It seemed like all that was ages ago, not just three days past. “Eat up, ladies. You’ll need your strength today,” he said.

  “Are we going on a field trip?” Bridget asked with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Or did you have something planned for the bedroom?”

  “No,” Gunnar said with a smile. “Though what I’ve got in mind is almost as much fun.”

  THE SHOTGUN GUNNAR had taken from Mimi’s was fine for home defense against human intruders. Against a jötunn, the weapon wasn’t powerful enough. Gunnar needed something that sent a lot more lead downrange a lot faster than the Mossberg. And he knew where to find such a thing.

  The Las Vegas Strip was littered with buildings that had once been casinos, restaurants, and walk-up bars that slung yard-long margaritas to keep the tourists well-lubricated. But Gunnar knew the Strip hid more useful locations, too. There were drugstores tucked away in the shadows of more impressive buildings, private clubs past unmarked doors, and his current target: firing ranges where tourists could play Rambo in air-conditioned safety.

  “We’re headed awfully close to the Luxor,” Ray cautioned Gunnar as they hustled across the Strip and scurried around the New York-New York casino.

  “I know,” the bodyguard replied, “but it’s a chance we have to take. From what I saw on the roof, they haven’t posted guards, and they’re having a party around the Sphinx. If we keep our heads down, we won’t attract their attention.”

  “How are you keeping your head down, Jolly?” Mimi asked quietly. “You’re a walking goddamned telephone pole.”

  “Maybe I should put you up on my shoulders,” the bodyguard said. “That would distract any jötunn who saw me. Plus, I wouldn’t mind giving you another ride.”

  Bridget and Ray smiled at that, and Mimi stifled a laugh.

  “No thanks,” she said. “You better watch it or there won’t be another ride for you.”

  “That might be for the best,” Ray said with a snicker. “You totally wrecked that room. If Gunnar keeps getting bigger every time he finds a relic, next time we’ll have an earthquake.”

  “Don’t be jealous,” Mimi said, sticking out her tongue.

  “Shhh,” Gunnar cautioned.

  He paused in the shelter of a line of trees planted along the casino’s south side. He peered through their trunks at the Excalibur across the street. There were no jötnar in sight, but the signs of their passage were everywhere. Clouds of flies swarmed around defiled corpses that littered the sidewalks. Wrecked and burned vehicles clogged the streets. Most of those were empty, the doors torn open. A few, though, held bloated corpses or scorched skeletons. But even in the carnage, Gunnar saw fresh signs of life. Grass grew through cracks in the pavement, and small saplings had taken root and unfurled their first leaves among the dead cars and trucks. There were changes happening, and he felt they were related to the blood rune and the Hall of Heroes. As he raised the lodge, Gunnar was changing the city.

  He led the small group in a crouched, zigzag hustle across the Tropicana. The völva followed him in a single-file line, a human snake that wound its way through the wreckage and carnage choking the wide street. Gunnar was glad for the cover the mess provided, but he could’ve done without the smell. It didn’t get much better when they crossed the street and entered the parking lot that bordered the Excalibur. People trying to flee the chaos of the casino had thrown the rules of the road out the window and played a deadly game of bumper cars. Most of them lost. The lot was packed with jumbles of disabled cars, most of which were scorched down to bare metal.

  “What a waste,” Mimi muttered. “I can’t believe someone created this disaster on purpose.”

  “The world is full of crazy people,” Bridget said. “Most of them can only dream of their fantasies. A few, though, claw their way to the top of the heap. Once they’ve got enough money and power, they pour the poison in their heads down on the rest of us.”

  Ray frowned and stepped over a mangled bumper. “Kyrolina isn’t crazy. That’s what makes her so dangerous.”

  Memories of the only time Gunnar had met YmirRe’s founder and CEO played through his head as he picked a safe path for his team. She was a tall, lean woman with an imposing, angular face. Her eyes had been such a pale shade of blue Gunnar first thought she didn’t have irises at all. As a lowly security technician, he’d been beneath her notice. But Gunnar watched Kyrolina talk to software engineers, geneticists, and other technical team members with startling insight. It was clear she knew as much, or more, about what her company did as anyone who worked for her. She only had employees because it was impossible for her to do all the work quickly enough to satisfy her drive.

  Gunnar wished he’d known what was coming back then. He’d have pumped a bullet through the back of the woman’s head and dragged her body so deep into the desert even the buzzards would never have found it.

  The team didn’t talk much after that. The jötnar were stirring, and though their hoots and hollers were blocks away, they didn’t want to risk attracting their attention. Fortunately, it seemed most of the monsters had stayed on the Strip side of the casino. They didn’t see a single jötunn even when they took Frank Sinatra Drive behind the Luxor’s parking garage down to Mandalay Bay Road. Whatever the creatures were doing, they had posted no guards to watch their territory. Gunnar hoped that would be their undoing.

  After scuttling across the highway and making their way a few blocks farther south, Gunnar stopped in front of their destination. “All right, ladies, here we go. Bridget, it’s time you learned to shoot.”

  The range’s door was ajar, and the bodyguard prayed the place hadn’t already been looted. He’d come here more than once learning how to handle all kinds of firearms. That had been years ago, though. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he eased the door open with the shotgun’s barrel.

  “Don’t take another step,” a man’s gravelly voice called out from within the shadowed interior. “Drop the gun, show me your hands. Slowly.”

  Gunnar didn’t protest. Anyone holed up in this building had access to enough firepower to bring down a small army. He had no idea how many opponents were inside and no desire to be shredded into meat confetti. He followed the directions to a T, careful to keep his movements smooth and slow. When he had both hands through the partially opened doorway, he heard whispers from deeper in the building

  “Are you alone?” the man called again.

  “No,” Gunnar said, “but my friends won’t come inside until I know you’re not a bunch of cannibals looking for an easy meal.”

  There was another pause. The whispering started again, and Gunnar imagined what he’d do if this turned ugly. Worst case, a barrage of gunfire would tear him to shreds before he could react. In the best case, he’d kick the shotgun away from the door and pray he made it to cover without getting blown apart. Neither of those seemed like great options.

  “Don’t move,” the voice finally said. “We’ll open the door. Step inside and keep your hands over your head.”

  The entry door swung wide to reveal a wide-open reception area. All the furniture, couches and chair
s for the people who’d once waited to use the range, along with a handful of overturned gun safes, had been pulled away from the walls and stacked against the far counter and in front of the lone door leading back to the shooting lanes. An older man stood behind the counter, his hands wrapped around the handles of an enormous four-barreled, pintle-mounted machine gun fed by a long chain of linked ammunition. Gunnar’s heart jumped into his throat at the thought of just how close he’d come to being obliterated. A split second of fire from that weapon would’ve torn the door apart and completely dismantled the bodyguard.

  “Nice gun,” Gunnar forced himself to say. “Thanks for not using it.”

  “Who are you and why are you here?” a voice from the shadows to the left of the door asked. Gunnar realized there was a much younger man and a woman barely out of her teens in the room with him, one in each corner of the front wall. Both held assault rifles trained on Gunnar, their fingers curled on the triggers. Another half pound of pressure and he’d be well and truly ventilated.

  “My name’s Gunnar,” he said. He struggled for a moment with what to tell them about why he’d come to the range. Finally, he decided the truth was the best option. “I came here to get guns. I plan to kill the jötnar camped out in the Luxor.”

  The man behind the counter laughed and slapped the counter with the palm of his hand. “Well, all right then. Come on in.”

  A HALF HOUR LATER, Gunnar and the völva sipped cups of crappy instant coffee from red Solo cups in the range’s office. The man behind the counter, Deke Swanson, had owned the business for the past three years. He and his son, Mark, and his daughter, Erin, had been inside when the shit went down. Fortunately, they’d also been closed to make some renovations, so there were no customers inside. The entire family had come down with the Valhalla Virus anyway, but none of them went berserk and none of them died. A jötunn had tried to break in as they’d recovered, but Deke had taken it down before it got inside. They’d planned to repair the door’s lock but hunkered down for a few more days rather than head outside to find the tools and supplies for the job.