As soon as he had struggled into the driver’s seat, he would have preferred to rest first. But that wasn’t possible, of course. He couldn’t stay here. He had to leave.
Again and again he felt as if he was going to black out, but he fought against it. He felt so weak. So weak. And this pain... He felt his life leaving him through the two wounds. Sergey had twisted the blade on both thrusts as he pulled back, so these wounds would not close on their own. If he didn’t see a doctor as soon as possible, he was doomed.
Just rest a little, his head tried to coax him. Just a little bit...
Mo saw Sergey stirring. Immediately he gritted his teeth, pushed the clutch through and pressed the starter button. The engine roared and Mo put the car in reverse. Through the window, he could still see Sergey getting to his feet. He would have preferred to just drive over him, but then changed his mind.
By the time Sergey had fully risen and pulled the knife from his side, Mo was already at the end of the street.
With his face contorted in pain, Sergey took out his cell phone. It clicked after the first ring.
“He got away,” was all he communicated. On the other end of the line, he thought he heard a snort. Then a click sounded and the line went dead.
4
It was cold.
It was always cold in the woods, but the boys had gotten used to that. They had lived here since they were born, or could not remember ever living anywhere else. If they had lived anywhere else, no one talked about it. There was only the now. And the future. They were only to learn from the past of others how to behave now and in the future. What their task was. Their sacred task with which they had been entrusted. All of them. And they were not to fail in fulfilling it.
They were still too young to fulfill their ultimate task. But they would be prepared for it, so that they would once be the men they already were deep inside. This was to begin today. The day they had all been waiting for – Finn, Erik, Matt, Gunnar and the others.
Early in the morning they had been roused from their beds with loud words. The rain pelted the communal shelter in an incessant barrage, drenching each and every one of them as they stood in rows, trembling, fearful, but also full of anticipation. The time had finally come.
Although the voices speaking to them were loud, they were barely audible through the incessant rain. But it didn’t matter, because they all had to do the same thing.
They ran across the forest. Always one after the other. Ran and ran. None of them dared to give up, whine or show greater weakness. Weakness was not tolerated. As a member of the community, one did not show weakness. Weakness was a characteristic of others. Those who had to be defeated. That was what they were trained to do. They would not be weak.
No retreat. No surrender. No mercy.
Again and again, this was drilled into them. Even now, when they were running to exhaustion to comply again and again, these words echoed through their heads, so that they never forgot them. The mantra of the warriors.
Once they would belong. To the chosen ones. The warriors. Who would redeem their battered people and lead them back to their old strength.
And he would be one of them.
Ben stood in front of the mirror, his hands resting on the sink, and looked himself in the eyes. Those brown eyes. Dark. Almost as dark as his black hair. Black. Like his soul.
He closed his eyes. But there were those images again. They waited in the darkness and in his thoughts. And in the blackness of the ink of his tattoo.
Slowly he opened his eyes again and looked at his reflection.
“You have to accept yourself,” Mo’s father had said.
“But I’m a monster,” he heard his own, then much more youthful voice say. The images haunted him again and again. He just couldn’t get rid of them.
Not as a teenager and not now. He only had to close his eyes and they were there, haunting him in his dreams.
There were tablets that ensured a dreamless sleep, but that was not good in the long run. So Ben had done without the pills as well as he could, turned to other methods or simply ran around sleepless and...
He shook his head.
“But I’m a monster.” Against his youthful self.
He was barely sixteen years old when Ben came into Mo’s family. Why his father took him in, Ben could not explain. Didn’t he have the mark on his body that made it unmistakably clear that he was nothing but a monster in human form?
The sign.
The symbol.
The one and so many more. The one on his arm that showed he was.... Again the images were there. The screams. Despair.
“You deserve it!”
The big man. Bald. Beard. That bushy beard. Like a Viking. All.
He literally felt the leather straps that held him and felt the pain of the needle that was incessantly penetrating the skin, turning it black.
Ben took a breath and looked in the mirror again. Finally, he grabbed the hem of his black T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Now his upper body was free and he looked at the symbol emblazoned on the left side of his chest. The symbol that branded him for what he was.
“No matter where you go,” Odin had said in his mind, “this will always remind you of who you are. And everyone can see who you are.”
Ben let his fingers slide over the wide bars of the tattoo and then looked at the inside of his left forearm, which showed a detailed skull. A skull provided with runes. Insiders knew what it stood for. Mo’s father had known it too. He knew what symbol adorned Ben’s chest. What symbol was on his left forearm. Knew its meaning. And yet...
Ben didn’t understand it until today. Mo’s father didn’t have to do that. No one had obligated him to do so, and on the other hand, everything had already been settled. But Mo’s father had insisted on taking the boy home with so much anger, but also despair in him. The boy, this ticking time bomb, who held an incalculable potential for danger. And yet Mo’s father had gone along with it. Of his own accord.
Ben took a breath and put the shirt back on. He would never understand why Mo’s father had done this. But he would always be grateful to him. He had seen something in him that no one had seen before and that he himself had not thought possible.
Mo had seen it too. Not at first, but later. They each shared a rage, an anger that exceeded any expression of their surroundings. Before Ben joined them, Mo must have thought he was the angriest boy in his neighborhood, maybe even the city. Ben proved him wrong. And yet it had been Ben who cured Mo of his constant outbursts of anger. He, of all people, was the boy with the broad swastika on his chest.
Mo’s father had offered to have it removed. But Ben didn’t want that. It belonged to him and should remind him of who he was and where he came from. It was part of his identity.
He knew himself that this was strange, but they respected his wish, even if it meant that he had to explain himself every time he took off his shirt.
This is exactly what should be achieved.
He was not safe anywhere. Always a leper. Everyone saw who he was. And he would be hunted.
And he would have to decide. When would he let his demon out? Eventually, the time would come.
Ben immediately saw that something was wrong when Mo got out of the car. He could see that he was bleeding profusely, even though it was deepest night outside. Without hesitation, he ran outside and caught Mo before he fell down.
“In!” Mo breathed weakly, and Ben put his arm around his shoulder, dragging his friend into the house like a wounded soldier in a horrific war.
They had barely entered the apartment when Mo collapsed, powerless. Ben closed the door and dragged Mo into the living room. He didn’t care that he was bleeding all over the place.
Gently, he lowered him to the couch, then searched for the cause of Mo’s blood loss, but Mo held his hand tightly.
“No time,” he breathed. “They must be after me. But I had to come, had to come...“
Ben frowned at him, uncomprehending.
“You need a doctor.”
Mo smiled and shook his head. Then, painfully, he pulled out the piece of paper with the list and pressed it into Ben’s hand.
Ben looked at it in disbelief and Mo smiled again.
“You have to take care of her. Take care of Anna. Promise me that. That you’ll take care of her.”
Ben took a deep breath and exhaled. “We have to call the police.”
Mo shook his head decisively. “No. No police. You have to handle this. Protect Anna and get Ahrend. Promise me you won’t let him get away with it and make him pay. That you’ll make everyone pay...”
“I... ” Ben started, but fell silent when Mo grabbed him by the arm. His eyes were full of anger.
“I know who you are. Don’t tell me you can’t. I know what you’ve done. I know what you do. That you’re the one beating the shit out of all these rightwing assholes. And that you can do a lot more.” Mo coughed and Ben didn’t argue, letting him talk. “I’m your brother. And I know about the anger that’s in you. I know what’s been done to you. But I also know you can kick all their asses.”
Ben looked deeply into Mo’s eyes. “I don’t remember.”
Mo gritted his teeth. “Bullshit. You’ve got to take care of Anna. They’ll be after her.”
“You?”
Mo nodded weakly and closed his eyes. “Some shit is going down. Something even nastier than I thought. Ahrend’s into some real big shit. The guy who mugged me, that wasn’t a street thug. He was a professional. The police can’t protect Anna against someone like that. And Anna won’t be safe until Ahrend has been stopped and all his people have been dealt with. Do you understand?”
Ben was silent for a moment. “You’re wrong about me.”
Mo smiled wearily. “For your sake, I wish it were so. But for Anna’s sake, I wish I wasn’t wrong.” Then Mo suddenly stopped and his eyes fixed on the door, spellbound. “Shit!”
The next moment the door flew open and three men dressed in black came rushing in. Before Ben even understood what was happening to him, one of the men kicked him in the head. He was thrown to the side and remained dazed on the floor. Immediately another man came and kicked him repeatedly until he stopped moving.
The men paid no further attention to him. While one began to trash the room, the other went to the other rooms, while the third stood in front of Mo and looked down on him.
“You have something that belongs to us.”
Mo breathed heavily and looked up at the man, whose deadpan expression showed incredible harshness and whose accent suggested even more Russian origin than that of the attacker at the bank.
“You’re going to regret this,” Mo stated, pulling out his smartphone.
The man shook his head. “I don’t think so. Rather, you regret ever sticking your nose into someone else’s business.”
Mo smiled a bloody smile. “For one thing, I’m a banker. Other people’s affairs are my affairs. And then I’m a German Turk. It’s a terrible mixture, because I feel I’m affected by everything.”
The man smiled and put his hands over each other, so that Mo could see blue tattoos there, which told him directly that this man belonged to the Russian mafia. Probably a member of a brutal squad that was responsible for the rough stuff.
All at once the man kicked Mo’s belly right on the wound. Mo cried out. “Another stupid line, fucking Arab?” the man hissed.
Mo was breathing heavily. “What the hell are you waiting for?” he hissed through clenched teeth. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
The man looked amused. “What am I waiting for? You mean why don’t I kill you? Because I like to admire Sergey’s work. He’s an artist and you’re a dead man. So I’m just waiting for you to die here, Arab.”
Mo smiled. “Who said I was talking to you?”
The man looked at Mo in confusion. Then he noticed a movement next to him. Turning his head, he just had time to see that Ben was no longer lying on the floor.
Before he could move, Ben hit him in the ears with the palms of his hands with full force, causing the man’s eardrums to burst. The Russian cried out and Ben rammed his fist into his face. The very next moment he rammed his fist into his solar plexus. The man gasped for air and went down on his knees.
The other Russian, who had been busy trashing the room, came rushing in. He pulled out a knife to stab Ben. However, Ben dodged the knife and was able to escape the next attack. When the Russian stabbed again, Ben quickly grabbed a floor lamp, parried the stab with it, and then let the base of the lamp crash against the Russian’s knee. The Russian cried out, but still lunged again with the knife. But he could not catch him. Ben again let the foot of the lamp crash against the knee, and then directed it against the attacker’s hand. The attacker let go of the knife and finally went down.
There was no time for Ben to take a breath. The third Russian came back from the bedroom. When he saw that his two comrades were lying on the floor, he immediately drew his pistol. Holding the pistol with both hands, he searched the room.
Suddenly a book came flying at him and hit him right in the head. The next moment Ben jumped on him, not only knocking his gun aside, but also ramming his knee into his torso below the chest. The man gasped for air, but managed to hold on. He hit Ben, who took the blow and staggered back briefly. The very next moment, however, he had caught himself again and went on the attack. Ben parried the Russian’s attacks and then covered him with punch combinations that did not miss. Ben struck at every spot that offered him a target. He struck with incredible hardness, fed by a deep rage that gave him strength. Again and again his fist crashed into the face of his opponent, until he finally went down, bleeding heavily.
Ben exhaled and looked in disbelief at the devastation all around him. But then he remembered Mo and ran to his friend.
Mo smiled, but seemed even weaker than before. “Father was right. It’s in you. Or you’ve been practicing hard.”
Ben shook his head. “Don’t talk. We need to get a doctor.”
Mo shook his head resolutely, even though it cost him a lot of strength. “No, you have to protect Anna. They’re probably after her by now.” With that, he pointed to the smartphone and finally took out the note.
“Take this and get out of here. You don’t have much time.”
Ben seemed torn. “Mo...”
Mo shook his head again. “You’re the only one I trust. Sonnenallee 38. Apartment building. Light blue paint. Second floor.”
Ben was about to say something else when Mo’s eyes suddenly widened and he almost jumped up. In the next moment he pushed Ben aside before he himself was shaken by bullets.
In his shock, Ben’s body reacted as if by itself. With a jump he brought himself out of the danger zone. But the last Russian, whom he had sent to the ground but had now recovered, was waiting there. He took out a knife, but Ben was faster. Before the man knew it, Ben had pelted him with blows and twisted his wrist so that the blade was now pointing at the man himself. As Ben swept his legs away, the Russian fell onto his own blade, which bored into his skull below his eye.
All this had lasted only a fraction of a second. In the next moment, bullets whizzed past Ben. If the shooter hadn’t been injured, Ben was sure, he would have put him down long ago.
When he heard the click, Ben didn’t hesitate and went straight into the attack. Like a tiger, he leapt at the leader, whose eyes widened in horror. Before Ben hit him, however, the other Russian attacked him from the side, threw him to the ground and punched him, but couldn’t land any real hits from his position.
Ben wriggled out from under his arms, grabbed his right arm and twisted it so hard that it finally broke. The man cried out and Ben hit him again and again in the larynx. Gasping and rolling his eyes, the man went to the ground where he finally lay twitching.
Ben immediately turned to the last opponent. He had finally reloaded and raised his pistol. But Ben lunged forward and hit the gun before the Russian could fire it. The man didn
’t even know what happened to him as Ben’s well-aimed blows rained down on him, seeming to splinter bone at every point, until Ben finally wrestled the pistol from him and was now pointing it at him.
The man looked at Ben in amazement and saw only Ben’s emotionless face.
“I...” the man began. That’s as far as he got, because Ben shot him in both shoulders, then in the arms, and finally in both kneecaps. Screaming, the man slumped to the ground, where he simply collapsed like a wet sack and whimpered.
Ben turned to Mo, who was sitting on the sofa with open but empty eyes, still holding the smartphone and the note. Powerless, Ben stood in front of him and paused for a moment until he finally realized that his best friend had taken his last breath. Ben gently stroked Mo’s eyelids with his hand, as he could no longer bear the sight of the expressionless frozen pupils. As he did so, he closed his own eyes and his face contorted in anger.
When he opened them again, they were moist with tears. Taking a deep breath, he crouched down in front of Mo and took the cell phone and the note from him.
Ben heard a rasping laugh and looked to the last Russian still alive.
“We will make you pay,” this one announced. “You and that bitch. We’re going to fuck you both. We’re going to give you the worst of the worst for free. We...”
Ben shot him in the stomach and the man groaned.
“You’re not going to do anything but die in pain,” was all Ben said. He would have liked to say and do more, but then he heard a noise. Voices. Reinforcements for the Russians had arrived.
He quickly grabbed one of the knives and left the room through the patio door. The very next moment, more men entered Mo’s apartment, this time directly with drawn weapons.
“Garden!” breathed the remaining man and immediately three men went through the patio door into the garden. However, the garden was pitch black, so that they could not see anything. Ben had disappeared.
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Ultimate Rage - Ragnarok (Thriller) Page 5