Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

Martin brought the cooler from the backseat and sat it on his lap. He opened the lid, then handed Thor an ice-cold bottle of Pschitt! . “I figured it was time I apologized, as well.”

  Thor opened the bottle, then downed half of it in one gulp. “You remembered.”

  “Remembered?! I spent years trying to figure out how you did it.” He opened his own bottle, took a drink, and nodded his approval. “I’ll be honest. This was nothing I’d ever considered a possibility.”

  Thor turned to Martin, giving the man a glance over the dark glasses.

  “I know,” the former agent said. “Close my eyes, and happy thoughts.”

  They were in Gallipoli, Italy, a mile from the piazza they all parted company, headed north.

  Thor dialed the phone.

  “Five minutes on the dot,” Nwabudike said.

  “Our favorite Romanian vacation spot, tomorrow night, 8:51. Approach from the northwest. Bring Mio.”

  “You’re kidding?! Someone has a sick sense of humor.”

  “That’s what I said,” Thor said, smiling. He hung up the phone, then finished the soda.

  A white Fiat sped toward them from the north, the young couple inside seemed surprised to see Ann this far up the road. It could have been admiration for a unique car, if the woman had not jumped on her phone in a sheer panic.

  “They don’t look happy,” Martin said, frowning. “But they’re going to look a lot less happy in about three minutes.”

  Thor sounded the horn, then he and Martin smiled and waved to the shocked couple.

  Thor sped along, making a series of turns in a quiet neighborhood, making sure they were not being followed. The white Fiat was the least of their worries, it would be down the road in a few minutes, with the couple wondering what the Hel was going on. Who knows, they might even repeat what they saw? Like anyone would believe that story.

  “The next stop is the big one. Before you step out, close your eyes. Close the door, and count to three before you open them again.” He handed his phone over to Martin. “This will guide you to the phone that called me.”

  “You want me to get Bryndis and Sorina?”

  Thor took another cannoli from the sack, forcing Martin to take it, then he took one for himself. “I’ve arranged for the world’s biggest diversion. I have to be there to face him.”

  “Fenrir will kill you.”

  Thor smiled. “He wouldn’t come, if he knew I’d be there. My being there will be the biggest surprise of the night… foe everyone!”

  They finished their snack, and Martin closed his eyes.

  Thor hit the brakes hard. A stone wall loomed in front of the vehicle, and a battered barn stood a few feet from the rear bumper. He gave a silent thanks to Mister Cross, his calculus teacher, for drilling math into his head with profound proficiency. The Castle loomed in the distance, a few windows pouring light into the darkness. It was a horrible feeling, knowing Sorina and Bryndis were in there, held by the enemy on this side of the wall with no way out, made worse by the presence of Hróðvitnir rushing toward them, intent on killing Sorina.

  He stared Martin in the eye. “The next three minutes and forty-three seconds will be the wildest of your life. When you open your eyes, you’ll feel like Superman; you’re not. Knives still cut, bullets still kill, and you can’t leap tall buildings. No matter what happens, save the girls.”

  Martin grasped his hand. “Count on it!”

  “Do me a favor,” Thor pulled a cigar from his pocket. “Take a photo of Vinny, just before you put a bullet in his head.”

  Once the door closed behind Martin, Thor drove away.

  It was a hot and humid Virginia evening, filled with the steady drone of crickets and cicadas. He parked Ann in the shadows, two blocks from David Bjorn’s Arlington home, lighting the cigar. Happy thoughts! He opened the door, singing I want candy to himself. Happy thoughts! His mind raced with images of Sorina, the way she looked, the way she smelled… the way she tasted. Especially that! Her kiss is so sweet, it makes me grateful I’m not diabetic.

  It was a brisk walk, keeping to the shadows, wishing he could do something more for David Bjorn than avenge his death, as he would do for the rest of his grandfather’s friends.

  A man was leaving David Bjorn’s home, appearing to be in a hurry. Fleeing a murder-scene will make you do that! He grasped the door handle to a black Toyota Corolla with a gloved hand. He had just started to look over his shoulder when Thor fired the shot into his temple; the bullet spraying his brains to cover the car’s roof before entering an oak tree across the street.

  The body had not fallen when Thor turned Alice on the driver. A lifetime ago he would not been able to take a woman’s life, no matter what she had done. That was a lifetime ago. Since then, he learned that evil is not gender-specific! Thor pulled the trigger, and her head exploded like an overly-ripe melon, the driver’s window exploding in the pink mist.

  He scooped the shell casings with a gloved hand, singing as he jogged down the street, trying his best to keep happy thoughts.

  Fifteen stops later, he was in Sydney, Australia. He exited the car, singing Rubber Band Man, remembering the craziness Mio had caused as a puppy. The events were taking their toll on his body; he knew he was going to go through Hel, but this was far worse than he imagined. The last cannoli was gone, as was the last soda. He bit down on the stub of his cigar, trying his best to keep in a good mood as he raced up the parking structure stairs.

  He opened the door to the building’s roof level as the fatal shot rang. It took everything he had not to scream.

  The sniper was backing away from the ledge when Thor’s foot caught him in the ribs. The rifle skidded across the tarred surfaced, and the man gazed up in total shock, his green eyes trying to focus on his assailant when the bullet entered his skull.

  Thor scooped up the spent shell, then turned without hesitation for the stairwell. Seconds later, he was seated behind the wheel. He took a deep breath, started the engine, and drove away, his energy fading fast. For the briefest second, he thought of Doru Albusel, agreeing with the old man: this was necessary. He fished the bottle from his pocket, gagging as the green ooze flowed down his throat; the swill was far worse warm than he could have imagined.

  Now was the time for his revenge against the monster. He punched in the final calculations, wondering where he got his sense of humor, as he picked just the right tune for the occasion. A second later, One Way or Another began. He remembered the first time Iona smiled, after leaving the hospital, Traci Gillard laughing herself to tears, and the cheers of half the school as the police escorted him and Felix out of the junkyard in handcuffs. With luck, it would fuel his body enough to finish this.

  There was no telling how many men Vince had, or how well armed they would be, but they were already at a disadvantage. They wanted to capture the beast alive, and neither he nor Hróðvitnir were about to let happen.

  The pedal was to the floor, and he was singing loud and proud with Deborah Harry as he entered the courtyard. Hróðvitnir batted a man to center field, and had another man by the throat, teeth ripping away the flesh and blood spewing in steady streams. The rocket launcher in the man’s hand fired, hitting Ann’s rear end, before the dying soldier was flung aside.

  “Shit!” Thor shouted, reaching for the door handle, and throwing his shoulder into the padded leather for all he was worth.

  The explosion ripped through the car, shattering the rear axil, and flipping the car end over end.

  It cartwheeled out of control, slamming into the stone wall of the castle in a twisted heap of burning metal.

  Chapter 45

  Three Minutes and Forty-Three Seconds

  Martin opened his eyes. He was near the south wall, hidden in the shadows behind the stable. Ann’s bumper was disintegrating, as if the car were driving through solid stone. A second later, the strange set of tire tracks running between the stable and stone wall was the only proof he had that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. He sta
red at the wall, wondering what would’ve happened if they materialized inside the wall?

  He began to feel claustrophobic, the stones crushing him until he struggled for breath. He could hear the ancient wall laughing at him, see twisted mortar fingers reaching out for him. Martin squeezed his eyes shut. Happy thoughts! He said to keep happy thoughts.

  Thor had said he’d feel like superman. He quickly began to visualize what it would be like to be that powerful, an instrument for justice: a hero. It had been a long time since he felt like a hero; he certainly felt that way in the Army. Back then, he absolutely knew he was helping to make this world a better place. He remembered the past; not to any mission in particular, just the feeling of joy when everyone came home in one piece.

  Martin was amazed at the absolute rush sweeping over his body. He did feel like Superman! But he hadn’t the time to revel in the feeling; four minutes was a very short time to get anything done, let alone save Bryndis and Sorina, even if Thor had gotten him inside the courtyard. Even with his old team – way back in the day – this would’ve difficult to pull off in that amount of time. What made Thor Odinsson so positive he could do it alone?

  He sprinted along the outer wall, stopping beside one of the sheds Selucca Lazarovici’s men used to store ammunition as he caught sight of two sentries. They must have been hitting the sauce, or had no sense of urgency: they moved as slow as molasses in January. Martin peered around for more men, but saw none. He leveled the suppressed muzzle, sighted a head-shot on the first, then squeezed the trigger.

  Martin hit his target, but the body fell so slowly he had time to line up his second shot, take it, and rush form the shadows before either man collapsed. He dragged the bodies from sight with ease, sensing he could’ve tossed them both over the wall if he wished. Thor Odinsson’s strange confidence in his ability became crystal clear at that point.

  A wicked smile formed on his lips. He had been worried he wasn’t the man he used to be, and time had taken its toll. It didn’t matter; he had never been this strong or fast during his youth. No one had. I am Superman! If only for the next few minutes.

  The song Time is on my side ran through his mind, making him want to laugh out loud. He jogged toward the castle instead. His heart skipped a beat – forcing him to think about his mother’s apple pie – as he saw that a huge cage had been erected in the courtyard, its bars about four inches thick. God, these idiots really were trying to capture the fucking thing!

  There weren’t many sentries about, and the ones Martin ran across didn’t put up much of a fight. Vince Lydle may have felt it unnecessary until after he called Thor – which he may be doing, right now!

  Martin slipped in through the kitchen door, disposing of two more men with his knife before either of the realized what was happening. He quickly imagined what a five-man squad could accomplish with this kind of power. This is why it has to remain a secret!

  He carried the bodies to one of the darkened servant’s rooms. He spun in the room, Thor’s phone in hand, getting a fix on Vince’s signal. The man was on one of the upper levels of the west wing. Great! How do I get up the stairs, without being seen?

  He smiled. The answer was right in front of him. A place that had servant’s quarters, had servant’s stairs and passages, so they could move about without being seen by the masters of the castle. There were, probably a maze of passages throughout the castle. Martin hadn’t used them, but he remembered a few of the other men taking the shortcut to their rooms. This must be how Thor feels every day!

  He exited the room and followed the dimly-lit corridor to the narrow set of stairs; climbing as stealthily as the creaky boards allowed. He reached the second level, glanced around for more of Vince’s men, checking the phone once more. He sighed, then continued to climb.

  He checked again on the third level; the signal was strong.

  Third floor: psychopaths, beautiful women, and – hopefully – not too many assholes between me and them!

  He cracked the narrow door and peered into the well-lit hallway. He held the phone in his left hand, and braced the butt of the rifle against his right shoulder, the muzzle following his focus.

  He burst into the empty hall, jogging as he followed the signal. He turned a corner, firing a single shot into each of the three men coming toward him. He let the bodies lay, moving on without hesitation. The bodies would draw attention, but Martin had no sense of time; he could be behind for all he knew, and ruined everything.

  The phone in his hand began to hum. He heard that sound before, while Thor was talking to Vince Lydle. That’s how you knew Vince would be dead. Shit! I’ve only got two minutes before the fucking creature shows up!

  Martin followed corridor, the hum growing louder with each step. He fired a shot into the chest of the man standing outside the room, then burst through the door before the body fell.

  Vince Lydle wasn’t alone with Sorina and Bryndis; a man stared out the window, an assault rifle slung over his shoulder, and another was leaning against the dresser, cleaning his fingernails with a knife, completely oblivious to the fact his life expectancy was zero.

  Martin fired two shots into the man at the dresser, then two more into the one by the window, their bodies falling in slow motion. A cruel smile formed on Martin’s lips. “Say cheese!” he said, snapping a photo, then fired once into the stunned C.I.A. Director’s forehead. God, why did that feel soooo good? Because the traitorous bastard deserved it!

  Bryndis and Sorina stared toward him, as if it were difficult to focus on him.

  He moved to stand before Bryndis, holding as still as he could. The glimmer of recognition lit-up her face, and she smiled. Martin snatched up Vince’s phone, typed “Keep this with you and hide!” on the screen, then thrust it in Sorina’s hand. It was the easiest choice to make; Sorina had lived here since birth, if she didn’t know all the hiding spots by now, there weren’t any.

  He pocketed Thor’s phone, slung Bryndis over his shoulder, and ran toward the servant’s stairs. He tried as best he could not to bounce Bryndis off his shoulder too much, taking the stairs two at a time. He would’ve leaped to the lower landing, if not for his precious cargo. He raced down the narrow hall outside the kitchen, dropped another man with his rifle, then tore through the door into the night.

  Trying to keep to the shadows was growing difficult, men were shining lights, and moving in groups – albeit slowly – toward the south wall, near the spot Thor had left him.

  Martin grasped Bryndis tightly, and ran north for the gate, his heart sinking when he saw it lowered and barred. He gritted his teeth – rushing the thought of Christmas morning as an eight-year-old boy into his head – as he lifted Bryndis into the back of a covered cargo truck, and climbed in. He wasn’t surprised to find the vehicle filled with crates of weapons; a sneaking suspicion told him they had been stolen from the Durrës base.

  He moved several crates of rifles to get to get to the one that had Russian letters stenciled on the high-density plastic, then tossed it from the tailgate. He jumped down, catching the crate, and throwing the cover back. He pulled two RPGs and a launcher free.

  Many people fail to realize, a gate is usually meant to keep others out, not you in. A few well-placed strikes should be enough for them to be on their way. The first did most of the work, the second sent shards of twisted metal and stone flying in all directions; a large section of the iron barrier fell to earth with a rumble a split second later. Oh, it was going to draw a shitload of attention alright, a few of the men had already turned to see what happed, but he had to get the women out of here, somehow. As Thor reminded him, he wasn’t Superman; jumping from the top of the wall would kill them both.

  Before the fireball died, he had Bryndis over his shoulder again, running for the gaping hole to freedom. Northwest! Thor told Nwabudike to come in from the northwest. His steps were true and quick, sidestepping or leaping over all the traps, and setting Bryndis on the ground only when he saw Thor’s mammoth of a dog running
toward them.

  He paused to give the woman a quick glance, in case his second run wasn’t as successful. He had always though Bryndis Angantýrsdóttir the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Who knows, maybe a thought of those beautiful blue eyes could keep him focused.

  Martin turned, heading back into the fray. He had one more to save.

  He ran through the gate, thanking Thor for making him eat every bite he could. He felt starved, as if he hadn’t eaten in days. What I would give for a porterhouse, grilled to juicy perfection, right now!

  Bright flashes of gunfire were erupting all around him as he darted for the castle door, but the men seemed intent on shooting something in the courtyard, not him. He saw what that something was as he rounded a small structure: Fenrir!

  The demon thing had its jaws wrapped around a man’s throat, but that wasn’t what made Martin feel as though he’d been kicked in the balls with a steel toed boot. Ann was fifty yards away, flying through the air, her rear axil torn away and her gas tank erupting in flames. The look on Thor’s face said this wasn’t part of his plan.

  Half a dozen idiots were moving toward the beast, each man bearing long poles with nooses on the ends. If Thor had not been thrown into the mix, Martin would fetch a lawn chair and some popcorn; this had every promise to be the best damned show he’d ever seen.

  He started for the car, knowing he could make it there before it flipped, but stopped dead in his tracks. “Save the girls, no matter what happens.” That had been Thor’s voice in his head.

  Then heard Mikki’s soft voice echoing in his head next. She had been shaking, dying in his arms. Her emerald eyes pleaded with him. “You can save Thor’s soul. Promise me you’ll try. Promise me!”

  I did promise you, Mikki! Martin rushed toward the castle door, intent on fulfilling that promise. Thor’s soul wasn’t in that car, it was holding onto a phone, waiting for him to rescue her. Martin was damned if he wouldn’t keep his promise to either Mikki or Thor. Not tonight!