Escaping the Cataclysm

by Keith Robinson

  Two genetically-altered human slaves opened a pair of massive, eighteen-foot doors as Thor approached. Without even glancing at the humans, the false god led his captives and their guards into a room that contained several circular, metallic vehicles, each roughly ten feet in diameter. On the opposite wall was a large open doorway that led out into the streets of the city. The sides of the circular vehicles were four feet high and thin handrails rose up several feet above that, wrapping around the entire perimeter of the craft. Although a few of the vehicles had plush chairs mounted to their floors, Thor strode over to one that was devoid of furnishings.

  Rebecca and the others stood transfixed by the sight of the machines. “They look just like Nimrod’s floating UFO thing!” Mack whispered, giving voice to the thought that had entered each of their minds.

  “Nimrod must have figured out how to recreate some of the pre-Flood technology,” Rebecca stated, thinking of the sword that Nimrod had wielded.

  “But how?” Jerome wondered. “Noah said that the ‘gods’ were very stingy with their technology, not to mention the fact that he didn’t use any of this technology on the Ark.”

  Thor climbed up into one of the flying machines and commanded the prisoners to do the same, ending any further conversation. Once they were aboard, Thor pointed to the Blood Drinker and three of the Nephilim, who proceeded to climb onto the machine.

  As the second soldier began stepping onto the platform, however, the third one gave out a surprised cry and fell into him. The second Naphil backhanded his clumsy companion, who staggered backward, his face reflecting both confusion and anger. Frustrated at the delay, Thor replaced the soldier that tripped with one of the others, who promptly climbed aboard the craft. Dismissed, the other three Nephilim turned and headed back toward the gate, the one still nursing his wounded pride and split lip. Taking the controls of the craft, Thor brought the vehicle to life and piloted the ship through the open doors, leaving the gatehouse behind.

  After the brutality of Midgard, Rebecca was surprised to find that Asgard appeared deceptively peaceful. For the most part, the city seemed quiet and serene, but its beauty and calm gave her the disquieting feeling that they were viewing a tomb; beautiful on the surface, but filled with death and rotting flesh. The streets were filled with mostly human slaves and an occasional Naphil guard. Only a relatively few other flying discs travelled the sky.

  Closing her eyes to the sights, Rebecca tried to pray. However, although she struggled desperately to focus her thoughts, her mind couldn’t seem to put together a cohesive sentence, almost as if something was interfering with her prayers.

  Opening her eyes, Rebecca saw their destination looming before them, the wind stinging as it whipped against her face. A magnificent structure rose up from the center of the city, unlike anything she had ever seen before. The outer walls of the building were in the shape of a hexagon. Breathtaking buttresses and walkways ran from the tops of the outer walls toward the central portion of the building, which had a pyramid-like shape. Atop the pinnacle of the pyramid was a large hall that rose fifty feet into the air and was topped with a domed ceiling that seemed to pulsate and swirl with its own inner light. Rows of thirty-foot-high windows lined the outer walls of the hall, adding to its grandeur.

  “Valhalla!” Jeffrey exclaimed in awe.

  Rebecca turned to look at her husband. Her sudden movement caught his eye, and he returned her gaze. The world seemed to fade away as they stared into each other’s eyes. Uncertainty, regret, fear, pain, love, despair—all were reflected in her husband’s face. What would become of them? What would happen to Jeffrey? The memory of the vision she had experienced on the Ark came flooding back to her. In her mind’s eye she once again saw Jeffrey screaming in agony. They were entering a stronghold of evil. Demonic false gods inhabited this place, and her husband was still lost. As far as she knew, if he were to die now, in this place, his soul would be cast into hell forever because of his own willful rebellion. Tears began to well up within her eyes. Shutting them tightly, she felt them slide down her cheeks. A solitary prayer formed in her mind, finally breaking through the interference. Save him, Lord. Save my friends.

  The craft descended, causing Rebecca to look up to see that they were passing over the outer sections of the building. Thor expertly guided the vehicle between the archways and buttresses, flying so close to the structures that his passengers ducked reflexively as the flying machine dipped and turned. At last, the pilot brought the craft to rest on a balcony that jutted out from the pyramid-shaped central building two-thirds of the way up the sloped side. One of the Naphil opened the door of the vehicle, stepped onto the platform, and ordered Rebecca and the others to disembark.

  Taking up the lead once more, Thor strode down the hallway that led from the balcony into the interior of the building. The high, fifty-foot ceilings were held up by thick, white columns and lit by glowing cylinders mounted on the tops of the columns. Lavish frescoes covered the blood red walls, depicting scenes of mighty battles, heroes killing vicious beasts, and gods seducing human women. The marble floors were streaked throughout with swirls of white and tan coloring. Stopping before a door, Thor pressed a button mounted on the wall. Immediately, the door slid into the wall, revealing a small, square room fifteen feet across.

  Ushering the others inside, Thor entered last and pressed another button on the inside wall. The door slid closed, sealing them inside. A moment later, the familiar hum of a gravity control device rose up through the floor. Rebecca felt the unmistakable sensation of moving upward and suddenly realized that they had entered an elevator. After several seconds of travel, the elevator slowed to a stop and the door opened.

  Rebecca and her companions followed Thor out of the elevator and were immediately struck by the vista that surrounded them. They stood at the end of a rectangular hall two hundred feet in length that was oriented from east to west. On either side of the hall, thirty-foot tall windows allowed them to see for miles to the north and south.

  Short flights of steps led up three separate tiers, each a quarter of the length of the room. Thick, plush, red carpet with golden edging covered most of the fifty-foot width of the room and extended the full length. At the far eastern end of the hall, a set of enormous wooden double doors were set into the wall. Standing guard on each side of the doors, as well as standing along the walls of each of the three tiers, were women of such otherworldly beauty that the captives gasped audibly.

  The women stood an average of ten feet tall. Graceful plumes of swan feathers adorned their shimmering helmets, leather boots, and silky, red capes. Their silver armor was perfectly fashioned to highlight their curves, yet left their muscular arms bare except for slender ringlets of silver and gold that encircled their smooth skin. Rivers of golden hair cascaded out from under their helmets to flow down their exquisitely-formed features and came to rest upon their shoulders. Slender, yet deadly spears were gripped comfortably in their hands, leaving no doubt that the women could wield them expertly.

  Rebecca didn’t need her husband or Jerome to tell her that these were the Valkyries, the beautiful women who, according to legend, ferried the souls of warriors from the battlefield to Valhalla. Although she knew these women were not fallen angels like Thor, she guessed that they were the female equivalent of the Nephilim.

  Turning away from the goddess-like women, Rebecca gazed out the southern windows to stare at the city of Asgard below. Beyond that, across the river, she could see the three distinct sections of the lower city: Jotunheim, Midgard, and Alfheim. And there, off to the southeast, resting on a hilltop, was the Ark.

  A harsh order from Thor snapped Rebecca and the other captives out of their awestruck perusal of the hall and the magnificent view. Leading them across the carpeting, the group climbed the steps and crossed each of the tiers until they stood before the double doors. Bowing slightly to their god, the Valkyries grabbed the large metal handles and opened the doors.

  Another even longer hall st
retched out before them. The room’s only furnishing was a solitary throne that rested high up on a dais. Although the room was occupied by nearly a dozen beings of enormous girth and height, their might and strength were all dwarfed by the sheer, unbridled power of the one that sat on the throne, awash in the blinding rays of the sun that streamed in through the windows behind him.

  Here was Odin, ruler of Asgard, lord of Valhalla, and mightiest of all the Norse gods.

  19

  Odin

  The pervasive sense of evil that emanated from the room so overpowered Rebecca and Mack that they were forced to their knees, their breathing labored. Everything within Rebecca’s soul screamed at her to flee from this room, but she knew that she was trapped. Jesus, help! she called out mentally. Suddenly, verses from the Bible that she had memorized burned through her mind, pushing back against the darkness surrounding her. Reaching out a shaking hand, she caught Mack’s arm. Nearly mad with terror, he stared back at her dumbly. “‘Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.’1 ‘Greater is He that is within you, than he that is in the world.’”2

  Light returned to her friend’s eyes. Nodding slightly, he grasped her arm tightly and together, they stood to their feet. Only then did they realize that Jeffrey and Jerome were both lying on the polished floor, their bodies curled into fetal positions. Even the Nephilim guards and the Blood Drinker were on the floor, prostrated before their god.

  Looking around at the other demon-gods that filled the chamber, Rebecca realized that they appeared agitated. Their handsome features were twisted in disgust as they assessed the two humans who failed to bow before their gods. Rebecca could feel the unadulterated loathing that radiated from them. In particular, several Nephilim dressed in priestly robes seemed ready to attack the strangers and rip them limb from limb.

  “Bring them to me,” Odin commanded from his throne, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

  Thor pushed Rebecca and Mack forward, then grabbed Jeffrey and Jerome in each hand and unceremoniously dropped them at the foot of the dais. “Who are these humans?” Odin asked. “Where did they come from?”

  As Thor motioned for the Blood Drinker to step forward, Mack and Rebecca looked up at the false god. The design of the chamber was such that the sunlight was reflected through the windows behind the throne, making it seem as if it was Odin himself that produced the light. Staring through the blazing brightness, Rebecca and Mack could see that the ruler of this realm was powerfully built and physically impressive. Armor made from the scales of some giant reptilian creature covered his torso and hung down over his thighs like a skirt. Long pieces of matching armor were strapped to his bare legs, and his feet were shod with thick leather sandals. The luxurious red robe that covered his arms and wrapped around his body was made of a material that sparkled in the light, making it seem to come to life as he moved. A regal helm studded with gems rested atop his head, his long white hair reaching to just past his shoulders. His lengthy white beard rested atop his massive chest and reached nearly to his jewel-encrusted belt.

  Jeffrey and Jerome, still huddled on the floor near the door, began to rouse. They tried to stand, but soon gave up, their fear paralyzing them.

  Keeping his voice low so that only Rebecca could hear, Mack began translating as the Blood Drinker spoke.

  “Almighty Odin, King of the gods, I and my brothers went to the false prophet’s home and burned it as the Lord Loki had commanded us,” it said, glancing nervously at one of the demon-gods that stood near the base of the throne, his body shrouded in a dark cloak.

  “Loki, what new mischief is this?” Odin demanded.

  A wicked cackle erupted from the being as he looked up at the king. “That crazy old man and his obnoxious boat has been a blight on our city for too long. I thought it time to put an end to him and silence his talk about this one, ‘true’ God. So, I hired the Blood Drinkers to do it. They have proven themselves useful on several occasions.”

  “But not this time, it would appear,” Odin said. “For unless my eyes deceive me, the boat still sits on the hill. It seems that your pets were beaten by a tiny group of humans—and pure-bloods, by the look of them.”

  Loki cast a baleful glance at the vampire-like creature. “Yes, explain yourself. How did these wretches defeat your entire gang?”

  The genetically altered human glanced nervously between the two false gods before coming to rest on Loki. “All went as planned at first. The houses and animal enclosures burned swiftly. The liquid quickly destroyed the lock on the gate, allowing us inside the wall. But…but, as we were moving the materials into place with the devices you gave us, we were attacked from behind by these four and an altered human. When we turned to fight them off, Noah and his sons came out from the boat. We were trapped between them.”

  “And only you escaped?” Loki said with a sneer as he edged closer to the creature.

  Quaking in fear, the blood drinker spoke rapidly, hoping his explanation would spare him from his master’s wrath. “When the battle turned against us, I hid, knowing that any information I could bring back to you about our strange attackers would be worth more than my death. So, I waited all night out in the cold for them to come out of Noah’s boat. I followed them, even though the sun burned my eyes and flesh.”

  Growing weary of the creature’s tale, Odin waved his hand impatiently. “And what did you discover about them that is so important you felt compelled to disturb me?”

  “After they left Noah’s accursed boat, they travelled through the forest and across the plains into Alfheim,” the vampire-like creature said. “There, they entered a pyramid about the size of a human house.”

  “A pyramid?” Odin echoed, his interest suddenly piqued. “But there are no pyramids in Alfheim.”

  “I know, my lord,” the creature continued. “But there is now. They left the pyramid, entered the city, and went to Arngrim’s Shop.” The king of the false gods frowned, but said nothing. The creature continued. “While they were inside, I went to find the mighty Thor so that we might bring them before you for questioning. For you see, my lord, not only are they strangers, but they speak gibberish, as if they were mad. Only the one with the curly black hair seems capable of normal speech. Look! Even now he is speaking his strange words…”

  The sudden interest in his translation efforts caused Mack to stop short, leaving the rest of the Blood Drinker’s sentence unfinished. Sensing the eyes of everyone in the room resting on him, Mack nearly fainted in fear. Beside him, Rebecca squeezed his arm tightly, the pain returning his focus.

  “Who are you?” Odin demanded. The rest of those assembled in the room waited in hushed anticipation.

  It took Mack several seconds to find his voice. When he did, it came out broken and trembling. “W…we…we are…family members of Noah.”

  “You have heard what this one has said about you. Explain yourself,” Odin said.

  Building on the story he had concocted for Vidarr, Mack began. “We came from far away to visit with our relative. We traveled here in the pyramid, much like the flying circles you use in your city. We were having trouble with our vessel, and Noah said that Arngrim might help us fix it.”

  Odin’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “What god gave you access to the technology for a flying structure?”

  Mack swallowed nervously. “We…were sent on an errand by…by our lord Aslan,” he blurted out.

  Smatterings of conversation broke out around the room. Raising his hand, Odin silenced them. “I know all of the gods from the other realms, but I have never heard of this Aslan. What was the errand?”

  Beads of sweat dripped down Mack’s neck as he felt his story beginning to unravel. “To…to seek out Arngrim. As I mentioned, we needed him to help fix the vessel.”

  Based on Odin’s dark expression, Mack knew he wasn’t buying it. “And why do your friends speak so strangely? Are they mad?�
�

  Mack looked down at his friends, hoping for inspiration. “They…they have…speech impediments, mighty Odin,” he lied, hoping the false god would believe him. “It is from a genetic enhancement experiment that went wrong. After living with them for many years, I have learned to understand them though.”

  Considering his statement, Odin leaned back on his throne. “So they can hear, but not speak properly.” Mack tensed, suddenly realizing the flaw in his lie. “Do not speak unless I give you permission and do not look at your friends.”

  Odin turned his gaze to Rebecca and said, “Raise your left hand.”

  Knowing that she was being addressed, she looked desperately to Mack for translation. When he didn’t return her gaze or speak, she knew that something had gone wrong.

  The corner of Odin’s lip curled, his eyes boring into Mack. “You are a foolish man to lie to me. I will have the truth from you, and then you will beg for death.” Leaning forward, Odin turned his gaze toward Thor. “Take them to the dungeon. I will deal with them tomorrow. I have more important matters to attend to.”

  Mack felt his insides knot up with fear. Tomorrow? The Flood begins tomorrow! he thought in despair. Locked inside a prison, we have no hope of escape. And it’s all my fault. If only I had been able to come up with a better story, then perhaps…

  “I knew you would be interested in them, my lord,” the vampire-like creature said with a bow, drawing Mack out of his reverie.

  Looking at the Blood Drinker in disgust, Odin waved him away in dismissal. “Loki, give him a few coins for his services.”

  “Yes, my king,” Loki said as Thor and the three Nephilim grabbed the prisoners and pushed them toward the exit.