Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

  Nwabudike’s eyes grew very wide; a sign of emotion Thor thought impossible. He gazed skyward, then judged the distance from their position to the cave. He glared at Thor, the granite mask crumbling into a “Have you lost your mind!” look. “Spread out! Stay close to the rock face!” he shouted to his men. The men did as instructed, and readied their weapons.

  “Ben Coats was a real asshole,” Thor said, staring into the black opening. “No one ever knew why, but he hated dogs with a passion. Most of the kids – and a few adults – in my neighborhood, said he would shoot a stray with a high-powered pellet gun, and drop the dog’s body off in a dumpster. Others said he ate the dogs out of pure hatred for the animals. One summer, dogs all over our neighborhood came-up missing. No one ever proved it was Ben, but Ben never convinced anyone he wasn’t responsible, either. ”

  “It rains a lot where I come from,” Thor said, ignoring everything else. “So, it’s common to see rubber boots on people’s porches. Ben Coats had one of those trendy little hand-woven, jute mats on his porch for his boots. You could go by his house, and there they’d be, setting neatly on the mat.”

  “Then there was a neighborhood dog, Napoleon: a scruffy little runt that no one knew to whom he belonged. He took a liking to Ben’s yard – especially Ben’s flower garden where he would take a shit daily. I don’t know what that dog ate, but he’d leave behind a load a dog twice his size would be grateful to be rid of. No matter what Ben did, he couldn’t keep Napoleon out of his yard.”

  Thor took a deep puff from his cigar, blowing smoke into the wind. “One bright, early morning, Ben goes for the newspaper, and sees Napoleon in the act of shitting on the mat. That was the last straw for Ben. He goes into a rage, and he chases Napoleon into the street, where he gets hit by a car and dies.”

  “I don’t understand,” Doru said, scratching his chin.

  Thor looked the wiry man in the eyes. “Stand back, Mister Albusel. I’m about to shit on this fucker’s porch.”

  Thor waited until the man was in position before turning back to the cave. “I know you can see me, and I knew you can understand me,” he shouted across the divide. “My name is Thor Odinsson. So, when you come for someone, come for me, you worthless piece of shit!”

  “Fire it up,” he said into the radio.

  A few seconds later, two missals threaded the needle, and exploded in the mouth of the cave. Thor shielded his eyes from the fireball. The larger chunks of rock created by the blast fell harmlessly into the abyss, but the smaller sprayed the men in a shower. Then there was a loud rumble as boulders crashed to seal the cave’s entrance.

  Well, now that’s a bonus I didn’t count on. The rest of my life should be so easy!

  The men slowly brought themselves to their feet, brushing off small pebbles, and staring at Thor as if he truly were a madman.

  “We’ll know in a few days, if it was in there,” Doru said.

  “It was in there,” Thor said staring at the sealed entrance with satisfaction.

  “We may not have to wait!” Bonchance shouted, pointing to the rubble.

  Boulders shifted and fell, exposing a small, dark gap the size of a man’s fist. There was nothing but blackness in the tiny opening; the rifle’s scope proved no better at discovering how far the opening went. The explosion could have collapsed the entire cave, or merely blocked the entrance. Either way, whatever was inside was doomed; most of the fallen boulders were more than two tons.

  That’s alright. I don’t care if the thing was crushed or starves to death; just as long as it dies.

  The boulders shifted again, widening the crack. There was one more shift, and the smaller rocks tumbled over the narrow ledge. The men stared in disbelief as the huge boulders began to move toward the ledge, as well.

  A brief moment later, the rockslide erupted, and the creature that had caused such misery stood in the opening for every man to see. Instantly, Thor wondered how Ivar the Bold’s army faced hundreds of these things; this single one was terrifying!

  Every bit of six-feet tall at the shoulder, the damned thing appeared to be a cross between a wolf and something straight out of Hel. It was lean, with well-defined muscles under gray fur spattered with blood. Its legs were long and sinewy, with long claws easily capable ripping a man open. At the end of a long, muscular neck was a wolf-like head; though with a longer, narrower muzzle.

  It stared into Thor’s eyes and snarled, baring very long, blood-streaked teeth. Pure hatred radiated through the amulet. It was in pain from the explosion, but that did not matter, it wanted to kill Thor with every fiber of its existence. Death filled the creature’s golden eyes, claws dug into the rock, and it howled the most terrifying sound any of the men ever heard.

  Thor immediately dropped to one knee, leveled the rifle, and fired. The bullet entered the animals chest near the collarbone on the left side, and tore a baseball- sized hole in the creature’s right side as it exited, painting the wall behind it with a mixture of blood, flesh, fur and bone fragments.

  The animal collapsed, and Thor smiled at the sight of crimson pooling around the damned thing’s neck.

  It was a short-lived victory, however.

  The beast’s soulless golden eyes fixed on Thor as it slowly rose to its feet, shaking its head as if wacked on the snout with a rolled newspaper.

  Well, that sucks!

  The air rang with gunfire as the small party shot the creature again and again. Once Thor’s rifle was empty, he thrust a hand into his pocket. “Now!” he shouted into the radio.

  Two more missals rained down from above, one striking the monster’s haunches, the other just to its left. The ledge disappeared with a bright flash. The men on the opposite ledge threw themselves backward as the beast hurled toward them amongst the rubble.

  Still blurry from the after-flash, Thor saw the creature clinging to the ledge, just three feet from his face, whimpering. Nothing remained of the animal below the waist except dangling entrails, yet it still clawed at the crumbling rock, furiously trying to reach Thor. In a heartbeat, Thor had Alice in his hand, firing two rounds into the goddamned thing’s skull. Blood spurted from open wounds as it glared at its assailant with defiance. Another shot loosened the creature’s right claw from the rock, and it dangled with one claw digging into the stone. The men opened fire on the remaining claw until the creature fell.

  Thor watched as the monster rushed toward the abyss, sensing nothing but fear coming through the amulet.

  The men breathed a sigh of relief before smiling and patted each other on the back, but there was not much time for celebration; it was a long way back to the spot where they had landed. This place was bad enough to traverse in daylight; no one wanted to try doing it in the dark.

  By the time they reached the helicopter, the western horizon was ablaze with vibrant shades of pinks and purples, the sun a red ball that was sinking behind a peak. Golden clouds floated overhead, giving the harsh landscape a warm glow. Else waved for them to hurry, and they eagerly piled into the safe haven of the Blackhawk, relieved to have survived the journey.

  Moments later, they were landing in the courtyard as the gray twilight rapidly turned to blackness. Dozens of people gathered around them, their faces showing signs of relief and eagerness to hear nothing but good news. They would have it, but Thor walked away as Doru recounted the day’s events; he lived it once, and had no desire to do so again.

  Thor nearly lost his balance as Bryndis rushed forward and wrapped him up in a back-breaking embrace. Mikki joined in, and Thor found it difficult to breathe. He gave them their due; he owed them that much. “I’m sorry I made you worry so much, but it was very difficult to get a clear signal, or I would’ve called more frequently… I promise.”

  “Later,” Bryndis whispered. “We’re just glad to have you back safely.”

  Someone began to play a cheerful tune on a violin. An accordion joined in a few minutes later, and people began to sing and dance. A man handed Thor a bottle of sweet tastin
g liquor that burned like lava going down his throat. A woman appeared from the darkness, kissed his cheek then Nwabudike’s, disappearing again into the crowd.

  Thor caught a glimpse of Sorina standing beside her grandmother, listening intensely as Doru spoke. She turned her head, looking Thor directly in the eye, before turning back. The darkness must be playing tricks on his vision; he swore she smiled at him.

  Hours later, Thor was standing on the wall, staring off at a distant mountain west of the castle. The stub of a cigar held tightly in his mouth had gone out long ago. It was too short to relight, but he refused to let it go; there were too many things in his life he had to let go of already. For the moment, he needed something to hold onto. Mio must have felt his sadness, he leaned more of his weight against Thor’s leg, wiping his muzzle on Thor’s side. A sentry paused on his rounds, smiling as he patted him on the back , then continued on his path down the wall walk.

  The sky was clear, filled with countless stars shining in the black backdrop. The sliver of a moon was rising; Thor could point to its exact position without looking. The air was cold, but not cold enough to make him go inside; inside was warm, and filled with people that held hope, love … and life. He was dead already, he just needed to accept that fact.

  Footsteps drew near, made by heavy leather boots; jump boots Thor guessed by the sound of the heels on the stone. They were old, but very well maintained, having been re-soled recently, and were polished to a parade shine within the hour.

  “You’re losing your touch, Nwabudike,” Thor said without turning. “I used to think only death moved more silently than you.”

  “I used to believe you were nothing more than a spoiled child in a man’s body.”

  “Touché,” Thor said quietly.

  “I was a captain,” Nwabudike said. “During my younger years, I was the one to blindly follow orders… ” He stared blankly into the distance for a long moment. “Fifteen years ago, I was ordered to take my unit and assist General Tinibu clear a village of rebels. The guerillas had vanished into the jungle by the time we arrived. All that remained were old men, women, and children. Tinibu ordered us to burn them alive for sheltering the rebels…”

  “How many of your men, besides Bonchance, were children of that village?” Thor asked.

  “Three,” Nwabudike said. He seemed to be impressed. “This is not over, is it?”

  Through the amulet, Thor sensed fear and crippling rage. He took the cigar stub from his mouth, tossing over the wall with a fond farewell. It was getting too soggy, anyway. “No,” he said sadly. “It’s just beginning.”

  “There’s another one of those things out there?”

  “Yes.” Thor turned to Nwabudike. He stared into the man’s emotionless eyes, seeing a flicker of concern staring back. “The thing that’s going to come for me, won’t be beaten so easily.”

  “How long have you known?”

  Thor sighed. “I sensed it a few seconds after the first one died.”

  Nwabudike stared at Thor a long moment, a curious frown cracking the otherwise stoic facade. “Earlier this evening, you danced and sang as if you had not a care in the world.”

  Thor said softly, staring out at the distant mountain he could sense but could not see: “If after the manner of men I have fought with the beasts of Ephesus, what advantageth it me, if the dead rise not? Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we die.”

  The next thing Nwabudike did was beyond unexpected: he smiled. “You said this next creature will not die as easily. I say; good. I’d hate for your grandmother to think my men and I aren’t earning our keep. So, let’s kill this damned thing, and go home, Thor Odinsson.”

  Thor smiled, patting the man on the back. “Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”

  Chapter 22

  Resurrection

  Captain Jacques – JJ to old friends, Uncle JJ to a little boy he missed so very much, it was like losing a leg – Montrose grunted, his face turning several shades of red and purple as he pushed the barbell loaded down with 340 pounds off his chest for the eighth time. The barbell came to rest in the “J” hooks with a loud clunk, and Jacques stared at the ceiling, waiting for the colors to fade from his vision.

  “Not bad, old man,” Bill Collier said, standing over Jacques, staring down at him with that smug “But I warm-up with that kind of weight!” condescending smile covering his face.

  “Old man, huh!” Jacques said with a Scottish accent that had thinned over the years. He eased himself upright on the weight bench. He wasn’t old, was he? He may be fifty-nine, but he was in better shape now, than during his ten years in the Black Watch, and if he put his mind to it, he could wipe that stupid smile from Collier’s face, without working up a sweat.

  “Take it down to two forty-fives on your side,” Jacques said with a grin. They stripped the excess weight from the bar, and Jacques positioned himself beneath it. The bar fell and rose thirty times, the full-force of 200 pounds slamming down on the uprights after the last repetition.

  “It’s not always about the destination,” Jacques said, patting the other man on the shoulder, “it’s about the journey.” Collier was still standing with his mouth open as Jacques left the weight room.

  Jacques moved down the corridor, stretching muscles that whimpered from his lesson in humility; a trait too many of his men needed reminding of, lately. He knew Collier meant nothing by the little jab at his age, but hearing it reminded Jacques he was not getting any younger. Seventeen years of running operations within the organization were taking a toll on his body and spirit. There was a long list of names he could name his successor – hell, any man here could take over.

  The difficulty came in finding the right man. This organization had grown from a few dozen men, to over two thousand worldwide. Some of the methods they used to keep themselves profitable lay somewhere in that grey area of legality, some in the same area of morality, a few pushed the boundaries of both. Whoever took his place would need to know when to let it run free, and when to jerk the choke-caller to keep this dog from biting off their own hand.

  He paused in the doorway of a large room. Several men were practicing forms of martial art on one another. Jacques watched impassively as one of the new recruits fell to the floor, then slammed his fist against the mat; that one would have to be watched carefully. If his temper didn’t improve, he’d have to be dealt with. Honestly, some people had no idea what a gift they had been given!

  Jacques moved on, listening to the sounds of muffled gun fire as he continued down the corridor. The smell of gun oil and powder residue told him the range was popular this morning. If one of those fools made another stupid challenge, he’s going to pay for the next ammo shipment!

  Jacques’ hand was nearly on the door handle to his quarters when he saw Dylah Stigg jogging his way, a gleam in her eyes and grin covering her face.

  “We got him, Jacques!” the woman said with a husky voice. The coppery-skinned woman was one of the few to make the short-list as his successor. The only problems Jacques had with her; she thought with her heart too many times, and could be as touchy as a landmine with a loose wire about her preference to other women. Personally, Jacques didn’t give a shit if she liked the girls, just as long as she stopped punching men in the mouth for a little friendly teasing.

  Him? “Just one?” Jacques asked. “You’re sure? No mistakes?”

  “No mistakes, sir,” she replied, frowning at the thought he would doubt her word.

  “Who is this miracle worker?”

  “A ghost.”

  “The world is full of them,” Jacques snorted. One man got close enough to kill Heinrich Mentz, and put a neat little bow on him for Interpol to start sniffing into my business. If he didn’t make it so goddamned personal, I’d give the fucker a job! “Who does he work for?”

  “Freelance. He says he doesn’t know who hired him.” Dylah glared like she could pull a name out of the man.

  He had half a mind to let her try, but Jacque
s knew whoever hired the man, didn’t want their identity floating around for Jacques to snatch it up, and rain down the mother of all hell storms upon them. “Who found him?”

  “Lucia,” the woman answered, the gleam of admiration in her dark eyes. At least she didn’t call him “The Lucia,” like some of the others, as if the man was some mythical being. “He’s bringing him back as we speak.”

  “Still alive?”

  The woman shrugged shoulders hard enough to bounce a quarter off of; the quarter ringing as if dropped onto a concrete floor. “He said the man’s head was still attached.”

  “Well… that’s an improvement. Perhaps our little talks have begun to sink in.”

  Dylah smiled; she had a pretty smile. Jacques, however, wouldn’t dream of telling her so; he enjoyed chewing his own food far too much to make that kind of foolish mistake.

  After his shower, Jacques ran a brush through his hair and short-trimmed beard; both containing more grey than black, now. He was going to have to stop procrastinating and make a choice; flip a fucking coin if he had to. He would stay on as an advisor, and let someone else have the pleasure of the headaches of the day-to-day grind, while he continued the work he started years ago.

  His personal phone ran, and he crossed the room, tossing the damp towel onto the back of a chair. Bewilderment crossed his face when he saw the number on the screen. “Julia, my darling, to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  “He’s in trouble, JJ!” Julia said franticly.

  A lump formed in Jacques’ throat. “How bad?”

  “Da bwoy’s neck deep in shit, an’ shinkin’ fast.”

  “I can be in Portland in two hours.”

  “Constanța,” Julia said.

  Jacques ground his teeth. Someone was going to swing for this! “Then he has the amulet?” Of course, he’s got the fucking amulet, you dolt! He took a deep breath. He could scream at Julia for the next hour, and accomplish nothing. “On my way.”

  He slammed the phone down on the mattress. “Goddamned it!” he bellowed. He slammed the side of his fist against a button next to his door, sending a shockwave of pain shooting up to his shoulder. An alarm sounded and red lights flashed above each door in the massive complex. “Alpha company, battle ready on the deck in twenty minutes. In case you’re wondering; no, this isn’t a fucking drill… Dylah, my quarters, NOW!”