by C. Gockel
And waits.
And waits.
He’s reaching forward, about to knock again, when the heavy metal security door groans inward.
Bohdi’s jaw drops, and so do the 7-11 bags he’s holding. Propping the door open with a hip, Amy’s holding a wicked tool that looks like the baby of an electric drill and a saw, and she’s got a scalpel awkwardly clutched in the same hand. Covering her eyes are goggles flecked with what looks likes the remains of bugs that met a windshield…but that’s not what makes him gape.
Behind the plastic lenses of the goggles, Amy’s eyes widen a fraction, as if to say, “What?”
Swallowing, Bohdi points very slowly to the top of her head. “I, umm…I think a tarantula is eating a mouse…” He winces. “In your hair.”
Amy stares at him for a few heartbeats. And then she backs up so fast the door nearly slams in his face. Catching it with a sneakered foot and grabbing his bags, he enters the morgue.
Backing up, Amy drops the drill-saw and scalpel on a small rolly table in front of a very large, dead troll that smells like chemicals and cold. Bending slightly, she reaches up to the top of her head.
Holding up a hand, Bohdi blurts out. “Do you think you should…”
…touch it.
Before the words are out of his mouth, the spider-eating-a-mouse comes hurtling toward him and lands on the top of his outstretched hand. Bohdi is too shocked to move.
“Don’t hurt Mr. Squeakers!” Amy says.
Bohdi looks to Amy. She has one hand pressed to her mouth, and she’s pointing at the thing that has just sprung on him. The gears in his brain start to turn again, and he looks down at the critter that must be Mr. Squeakers. It isn’t a spider eating a mouse; it’s a little gray mouse with eight long black spider legs.
“He’s a friend…pet…spidermouse,” says Amy quickly.
Oh. Well, then. Peering closer, he drops his duffel and the 7-11 bags. He holds out a finger to the little guy. Mr. Squeakers grabs it with his two front legs. Bohdi grins. “He’s kind of cute.”
And then he feels a familiar sense of disorientation. “Are spidermice something else I’ve forgotten, or are they new things?”
“Ummm…” says Amy. “He’s a magical creature, if that’s what you mean…and new. I don’t think you’d have ever heard of one…”
Bohdi lets out a relieved sigh and brings the spidermouse up to his face to get a closer look. Mr. Squeakers pokes his little nose at Bohdi and wiggles his whiskers.
“Please don’t tell Steve,” says Amy quickly. “He’s just a harmless mouse.”
The only warning Bohdi gets is the tickle at the back of his nose. He pinches his nose and closes his eyes, but it’s too late. He barely turns his head in time to miss sneezing on Squeakers and Amy. Sniffling and looking for a Kleenex, he hands the mouse back to Amy. “Sorry, little guy, I think I might be allergic to you,” he says.
Tucking the mouse into her lab coat pocket, Amy takes off her goggles. “Why are you here?”
Bohdi reaches into his pocket and finds the comforting shape of his lighter. Why is he here? He must be crazy—his life is good, great job, great friends, and what he’s about to do will terrify Ruth and Henry. He swallows and thinks of the man and woman in the picture.
He knows more now about the immigrant experience than he did when he first “woke up.” A lot of immigrants send money back to their families. Bohdi’s parents are wearing simple clothing in the photo. They don’t look particularly wealthy. But even though he’s lost some of his mind, what he has left works rather well. Bohdi speaks English, Hindi, and the same regional language that is spoken in Bangalore—but with a Kashmiri accent. He also knows the three regional languages of Kashmir—but speaks them with a Bangalore accent. He reads mathematical notation with ease, and several computer languages. And even if his knowledge of recent history is nearly non-existent, he has weirdly accurate knowledge of the WWII era and prior. He may not have a college degree, but someone made sure he had an education.
He takes a breath…There’s no way he would have gotten his sweet job with the FBI without them. And if he’d been smaller, and weaker while he was in the Marine Corps…
He has to find his parents. He owes them everything.
Shifting on his feet, his fingers tighten on his lighter. He can’t bring himself to say all that. Instead he just smiles as cockily as he can and says, “Want to go to Nornheim?”
Amy says nothing for a few long seconds. And then her gaze becomes hard and calculating. “How?”
It takes a moment for it to register in Bohdi’s brain that she hasn’t said no, or called him crazy. But then, Amy hasn’t traveled just between realms; she’s traveled between universes if what he overheard her telling Steve once is right.
Feeling a little small, he spins the wheel on his lighter and says, “With Thor.”
“Thought he lost his ride?” Amy says.
Picking up his duffel, Bohdi opens the zipper to reveal two spools of Promethean wire, each about two feet long and a foot in diameter. “We’re his ride to Nornheim. He’ll show us the way to the Norns once we get there. All we need is the exact location of the gate in Loki’s condo…”
Amy’s face softens at the mention of the “secret” gate in her ex-boyfriend’s old apartment. It makes Bohdi weirdly uncomfortable.
Amy’s eyes drop to the Promethean wire. Two years ago, Amy held up Laevithin, Loki’s magic sword, in a room sealed with Promethean wire. Bohdi had walked into the room, broken the seal, and allowed some of Laevithin’s magic to open a pathway to the In-Between. The physics guys theorized that Promethean wire, when forced to contain too powerful a magic source and not sealed completely, can create tears in space time. Picking up on what he plans, she speaks quietly, “We need a magical power source.”
Laevithin, the power source she’d inadvertently used for her unplanned trip between universes, had been taken by the guys in DC. Bohdi jokes that it is in the same warehouse as the Arc of the Covenant. Steve says he shouldn’t watch so many old movies with Brett and Bryant. However…
“I think Mjolnir will do the trick,” Bohdi says.
Amy lifts her eyes. Voice a little shaky, she says, “You know…if we accidentally open a pathway into the In-Between, we won’t be able to get back…when I did it…I had…” she crosses her arms over her chest. “Loki’s…” Biting her lip, she looks down. “The baby was magical and saved me.”
Bohdi’s mouth goes dry. He can’t help but remember that night when he found Amy lying in the snow, calmly and matter-of-factly asking him to call an ambulance as blood bloomed like a crimson flower around her. That memory made missing pieces in a puzzle click in Bohdi’s brain. When Amy had opened a pathway to the In-Between, instead of turning into a spacecicle, she’d gone into another universe. Bohdi had wondered how. Now he knows—and he feels like he just punched her in the gut. He wants to say sorry…or…something…but they’re running out of time. He says what he’s sure she already knows. “That’s why we need you to show us the exact location of the World Gate. The physics guys are pretty sure if we set the wire where a branch of the World Tree connects with Earth, we’ll slip right past the In-Between and into another realm.”
Head still down, Amy nods and crosses her arms. Looking up at him abruptly, she says, “Does Steve know about this?”
Bohdi grimaces.
Rolling her eyes, she turns away and waves a hand. “Then there’s no way for us to even get past security and into Loki’s apartment. Talk to Steve, come up with a real plan, and then…”
Stepping forward, Bohdi catches her shoulder. Spinning, she reaches into her pocket, grabs Mr. Squeakers, and holds the little guy up in the space between them as though the mouse is a can of mace. Her nostrils flare slightly. For his part, the mouse just wiggles his whiskers.
Backing up, Bohdi holds up his hands. “I know how to get into Loki’s condo. If we wait for Steve to do this officially, it will take…weeks…months…Thor isn�
�t going to wait that long, he’ll go home, find another wizard guy, and find another way.”
Amy purses her lips. Bohdi’s eyes catch on them. They look extra kissable when she’s pouting.
Mr. Squeakers gives a cheery cheep from her hand, bringing Bohdi’s attention back to task. He looks at the mouse, and then back up to Amy. Smiling and giving a shrug, Bohdi says, “See, even the mouse agrees with me.”
Amy looks down at the mouse, and her eyebrows rise. Sighing, she closes her eyes.
“All right,” she says. “I’ll do it. When did you plan to leave? We need supplies, camping gear, food, and my grandmother will want to come. Considering what a good shot she’s become, that might be a good idea.”
Whipping out his phone, Bohdi checks the time. “We have fifteen minutes.”
“What?” says Amy.
Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he says, “In fifteen minutes, Thor is going to kidnap us while we’re having a romantic picnic on the roof.” He holds up the 7-11 bags triumphantly and smiles. He’s really got this well thought out.
Amy cocks her head to the side and puts a hand on her hip. “Kidnap us while we’re having a romantic picnic?”
Bohdi shrugs. “It has to look like a kidnapping so we have plausible deniability.”
Amy doesn’t move.
Bohdi tries again. “A platonic picnic celebrating your return to ADUO?” he suggests.
Amy rolls her eyes and turns away, but this time she says, “Let me get my coat and first-aid kit.”
Bohdi blinks. That actually…was easier than he expected.
x x x x
“This is what you call a romantic meal?” Amy says, holding up an unopened protein bar and wrinkling her nose. They’re atop ADUO’s “green roof.” In winter, it isn’t so green, and in the lowlight of the evening, it is positively gray. She and Bohdi are sitting on two benches in an open rectangular area among raised beds filled with the husks of dead grasses and spotty snow.
Strands of Amy’s ponytail are whipping around her face in the frigid Chicago wind, but she doesn’t look at all cold. She’s dressed in a cozy-looking down coat. The messenger bag with the first-aid kit is draped over one shoulder.
Shivering in his cheap winter coat, bristling at her insult, Bohdi says, “Well, it’s a good thing it’s only a welcome back meal.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. Mr. Squeakers, peeking from the pocket of her down coat, gives a squeak that sounds strangely disappointed and then pulls his head back and disappears.
“I wanted something that could double as rations,” Bohdi adds defensively. “We don’t know how long this trip will take.”
Both of Amy’s eyebrows go up, and she looks down at her protein bar.
The wind increases and whips her ponytail around her face. Brushing it back, she looks up to the sky. Handing Bohdi the protein bar, she says, “I’m saved.”
Turning, Bohdi sees Thor in his chariot hurtling down from the sky. Bohdi and Amy both jump from their seats as the chariot whips past them, bouncing to a stop on a patch of grass.
At that moment, the door to the stairs creaks open and Brett and Bryant come through, coffee cups in their hands.
Uh-oh.
“Thor?” says Brett.
“Amy and Bohdi?” says Bryant.
Amy grabs Bohdi’s arm and pulls him in the direction of the chariot, even as Thor shouts, “Get in!”
“Where y’all going?” says Bryant.
Following Amy through the snow and dead grass, Bohdi manages to say, “Ummmm…”
A weight falls on his shoulder. Bohdi turns his head and sees Thor’s enormous hand; and then he’s yanked back so quickly he falls on his butt on the floor of the chariot. His duffel bag lands on his lap, and the 7-11 bags cut into his wrist. The chariot immediately starts to lift, Bohdi’s feet hanging over the edge.
“We’re being kidnapped,” Bohdi shouts as they rise vertically into the sky.
“What?” says Bryant, lifting his head. “Going for a joy ride?”
Bohdi opens his mouth to respond, but they zip forward so fast his reply is lost to the wind.
“That was convincing!” Amy shouts over the rush of air around them.
Scowling at her, Bohdi whips his phone out of his pocket, presses a few buttons, and holds it up. “Thor,” he shouts to the Asgardian warrior standing beside him, “I programmed directions to Loki’s condo into my iPhone just in case…” In case Thor forgot. According to the classified reports Bohdi wasn’t supposed to read, Thor’s been to the apartment before. It suddenly occurs to Bohdi that Thor might be insulted if his sense of direction is questioned. Bohdi really doesn’t want to insult him. The big man’s calves are right by Bohdi’s nose—and look about as wide as Bohdi’s head.
From his hand, Siri’s voice is barely audible over the wind. “Four blocks west…”
Grunting, Thor takes the phone and holds it up. “Chariot!” he bellows, “Follow the Myeyephone sprite’s directions!”
Bohdi’s eyes go wide and shift to Amy. Standing on the other side of Thor, she meets Bohdi’s gaze, winces, and shakes her head.
In Thor’s hand, Siri says, “One block south.”
The chariot careens left so fast, Bohdi slams against the right wall and Amy crashes into Thor—who doesn’t budge. The giant man gently rights her as the chariot’s course evens out.
In the distance, Bohdi thinks he sees a traffic helicopter. He squints. Is it his imagination or is it coming in their direction?
Amy slides down the opposite wall of the chariot and tucks her knees up to her chin. “So how do we get past security?” she shouts above the wind.
Feeling instantly more confident, Bohdi smirks. “By not going past security…”
He doesn’t get to finish the details of his brilliant plan. Above them, Thor shouts, “Cover your heads! There may be falling glass!” And then the large warrior drops a visor Bohdi didn’t realize his helmet had and raises Mjolnir.
There’s a flash of light and Bohdi feels a prickle, as though every hair on his body is standing on end. Above the rushing of the wind comes a crack, and then a sound like discordant chimes. Beside him, he sees Amy tuck her head beneath her hands and draw her legs in even tighter.
Bohdi barely has time to do the same before they are swooping down into a shadow—sharp splinters prickling his shoulders, hands, and scalp as they do. The chariot’s wheels connect with something hard, and they bounce—again and again. Bohdi’s teeth are still rattling when they lurch to a stop, snapping his head against the chariot wall behind him.
Thor strides from the chariot and surveys the room, “I will hold back any guards that attempt to come through the door. You will need Mjolnir…” Bringing the hammer to his lips, he whispers some words in a strange guttural language. Thor nods once and hands the hammer to Bohdi. “Call for lightning when you need it,” he says.
Groaning, Bohdi gets to his feet, clutching the duffel bag, shards of glass falling from his shoulders. He hesitates, eyes glued to the hammer. It’s surprisingly crude up close. The handle is too short and…
“Take it,” says Thor. “It won’t bite you…” He smirks. “Unless you attempt to betray me.”
Bohdi lets the 7-11 bags fall into the chariot and gingerly takes the hammer. It’s heavy, but lighter than he expected. He’s vaguely aware of Amy going around them to stand near the open window.
Lifting Bohdi’s iPhone to his eyes, Thor asks, “Can Myeyephone work any defensive magic?”
“No,” say Bohdi and Amy at the same time.
Thor sighs. Eyes still on the phone, he says, “Never fear, sprite, I will keep you safe as well.”
Bohdi’s eyes go wide, but he decides not to correct the big guy. Instead he quickly surveys what was Loki’s apartment. He’s not sure what he expected—but the place is modern, sleek even, with two walls made of floor-to-ceiling windows. Well, one wall has a window. The wall they just crashed through has a jagged hole of glass.
&nb
sp; Thor presses the iPhone back into Bohdi’s hand, snapping his attention back to the present.
Tilting his head at Bohdi, he says, “Get to work.”
Amy steps forward. “No, wait! Before we help you, do we have your oath that you will return us to Earth safely?”
Thor blinks. From somewhere in the background, Bohdi hears muffled footfalls and shouts.
Thor’s eyes slide to the door and then back to Amy. “We don’t have time for this.”
Amy puts her hands on her hips.
Grumbling, Thor says, “Fine. You have my oath.” Shaking his head, the big man jogs away in the direction of the muffled voices.
Amy turns and goes back to the window. Kneeling, she says, “Ratatoskr slipped through right…about…here.” She holds up her hands, spreading them about two feet wide. “There was a little circle of light…”
Opening the duffel, Bohdi drops to the floor beside her. He can hear more muffled shouting in the hall, much louder this time, and a bang.
Thor’s shout echoes through the apartment. “I’ve blockaded the door, but it won’t keep your warriors at bay forever.”
“They’ll call helicopters,” Amy whispers.
Bohdi nods as he unwinds one of the wide spools of Promethean wire. It’s a little like chain link fencing, but the holes are octagonal, the wire itself is coppery, and it’s more flexible—still his fingers are starting to stiffen with the bitter wind coming through the broken window—making working with the metal difficult.
He unspools enough of the Promethean wire to make a loop in the space Amy’s still patiently indicating the location with her hands. The finished loop is slightly wider in diameter than Mjolnir’s length. Then a horrible thought occurs to him. Turning his head to Amy, he whispers, “If this is the width of the gate, Thor is too large to get through.”
Amy meets his gaze. Jaw hard, she says, “Put the hammer in and fire it up. We’ll worry about that if this works.”
Bohdi blinks. She’s right. Dropping the head of the hammer onto the part of the loop that’s on the floor, he clears his throat and pulls back his hands. “Umm…lightning?”
The hammer trembles and sparks fly. Bohdi drops his head and gazes through the circle. Peering through the loop, all he sees is the city of Chicago. His hands suddenly get clammy and his heart rate quickens. It’s not working.
