The Valhalla Prophecy

by Andy McDermott

  The Russian dived after his companions as gunfire exploded tiles into shrapnel behind him. He hit the floor hard—and hurt, a red slash marking where debris had caught his calf. Nina and Tova pulled him into cover as Eddie sent a couple of shots at their attackers to force them back.

  Nina checked the wound. “It doesn’t look too deep. Kagan, can you walk on it?”

  “Help me up,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will try!”

  “Try fast,” said Eddie. He looked up the new corridor. “Where does this go?”

  “Only to offices,” said Kagan, grimacing as he put weight on his injured leg. “It is a dead end— No, wait!” He pointed with sudden excitement at a doorway a few yards from them. “We can go through this laboratory—there is a door on the other side just across from the elevator!”

  “Is anyone in there?” Nina asked, remembering the scientists she had seen in the other labs.

  “No, it is empty. Quick, quick!” He hobbled to the door and inserted his keycard, then readied his gun as the barrier slid open.

  “Is it clear?” Eddie demanded from the junction.

  Nina checked. The long room was in shadow, the only light coming through a window beside another door at the far end. Boxed-up equipment lurked on workbenches, but there was no movement. “Think so.”

  “Okay, go. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Kagan went through the door, Tova following. Nina hesitated as she heard the clatter of running footsteps. Slavin and his men were through the last security door. “Eddie, come on!”

  He backed up. “I’m coming, don’t bloody worry!” The soldiers approached the intersection. Eddie fired two shots, shattering more wall tiles, and the footsteps hurriedly halted. He ducked through the door and hit the button to close it.

  Tova helped the limping Kagan through the dimly lit laboratory. Nina quickly caught up. Through the window, she saw the elevator. “Jesus, we’ll be completely exposed.”

  “It is the only way out,” Kagan reminded her grimly. “Chase! How many bullets do you have?”

  Eddie had been counting his shots. “About ten.”

  The Russian grimaced again. “It will have to do.” They reached the other exit, and he raised his keycard once more. “We only need to hold them off until the doors open—”

  A shrill, piercing alarm filled the room, lights snapping on. But these were not the glaring overheads illuminating the rest of the facility; they were instead a sickly yellow. “What’s that?” said Eddie.

  Kagan’s expression was one of utter, trapped horror. He shoved the card into the lock, but the only response was a warning rasp and a flashing red light. “Govno,” he gasped, stumbling back. “The alarm—they have started the sterilization procedure!”

  “What?” Nina cried. She checked the ceiling. The lab was overlooked by two of the sinister black domes—which split as she watched, their casings opening up like hardened flowers to expose a cluster of metal nozzles pointing outward. “Oh my God! Stop it, use your override!”

  “I cannot!” Kagan replied. “Once it is activated, there is no way to stop it.”

  “There’s got to be a way!” She grabbed his card and jammed it back into the lock, but the buzzer sounded again.

  Outside the window, some of the Russian soldiers appeared, peering warily through the glass—followed by Slavin. The sweating officer now wore a nasty, triumphant smile. “How long do we have?” Eddie asked.

  Kagan regarded the nearest set of nozzles. “The gas must build up pressure before it is lit—about thirty seconds.”

  Eddie whipped up his AK and fired a burst at the window—aiming directly at Slavin. The Russian jerked back in fear as bullets smacked against the glass, but quickly recovered his composure, his smirk widening as he saw that the window was cracked, but not broken. “Shit!”

  “Shoot it again!” Tova cried.

  “It won’t make any difference,” he said, looking around. “But … that might!”

  Among the boxes and equipment on one of the benches was a squat red cylinder topped by a pressure valve. Eddie couldn’t read the Cyrillic text on its label, but the symbol of a flame in a warning triangle beside it was immediately understandable. He swung the heavy container onto a small trolley, then pushed it to the window. “Everyone get behind that bench.”

  “What are you doing?” Nina asked.

  “Remember that fire extinguisher? Same thing—only the bang’ll be a bit bigger.”

  “If you blow it up, it will kill us!” protested Kagan.

  “It might kill us—but that’ll definitely kill us,” Eddie replied, pointing at the nearest dome. “Come on, get down!”

  Nina hunched behind the bench, clutching the steel canister. A new sound became audible over the alarm: a rumble coming from the nozzles, slowly but steadily rising in pitch. “Oh God,” she whispered as the others joined her. “It’s starting!”

  “You ready?” Eddie called out as he crouched beside Nina, taking aim around the side of the workbench at the gas cylinder. Slavin’s eyes widened as he realized what the Englishman was going to do. “Cover your ears!”

  They did so—as Slavin made a hasty retreat, barging soldiers out of his way.

  Eddie pulled the trigger—

  The Kalashnikov barked once—and the container exploded.

  A room-shaking blast shredded the far end of the workbench and hurled blazing equipment across the laboratory. Broken ceiling tiles dropped around the crouching fugitives like hailstones. “Jesus Christ!” Nina screamed as a sharp-edged piece hit her.

  Eddie didn’t even bother checking the results of his handiwork, simply grabbing her and jumping up to run for the window. Either it was broken—or they were all dead. “Go, go!”

  Even with his leg wound, Kagan found a burst of speed as he and Tova followed the couple. The lab was littered with burning debris—but among it was shattered glass. The weakened window had been blown apart.

  Still holding the AK, Eddie hurtled through the opening with Nina. Those soldiers who had not reacted quickly enough to follow Slavin lay on the floor, faces cut, uniforms ripped and smoldering. Slavin himself was sprawled on the far side of the lobby area. The thought of shooting him flashed through the Englishman’s mind, but survival outweighed it—they were not safe yet. “Get to the lift!”

  He pushed Nina ahead of him as Tova scrambled through the broken window. She started to run for the elevator, but Kagan yanked her with him to one side—

  High-pressure acetylene gas gushed from the nozzles, electric igniters sparking—and the laboratory was engulfed in jets of white-hot flame.

  The swelling fire surged through the remains of the window. Tova screamed, Kagan pressing her against the closed metal door and shielding her with his body. One of the soldiers managed to scrabble clear of the blaze, but the luckless man beside him was instantly incinerated. Eddie and Nina dived away from the inferno, landing by the elevator.

  But the danger was not over. The nozzle clusters began to rotate, searing jets blasting like deadly lighthouse beams over every square inch of the laboratory—and out into the lobby. More soldiers fled, another man being hit by the fire and instantly bursting into flames. The back of the door glowed red as burning gas washed over it, Kagan’s hair scorching as heat rose behind him—

  The jets stuttered, then cut out. Every part of the lab had been sterilized by fire almost half as hot as the surface of the sun, even stainless steel warped and ceramic tiles cracked by the pitiless heat. What pieces of equipment had not been smashed by the explosion were melted or burned to charcoal.

  Smoke poured from the lab. “Is it just me, or is it warm in here?” said Eddie, coughing as he stood. He tried to open the elevator doors, but they were locked. “Kagan, get the lift open!”

  Kagan hobbled to him. Tova followed, trying not to look at the burning remains of the dead soldiers. The Russian put his card into the reader and entered his override code; after a moment, the doors rumbled apart.

/>   Eddie ducked through, keeping the AK raised to cover the soldiers, but they all seemed shell-shocked, more concerned with escaping the flames than hunting down their targets. Slavin raised his head; on seeing the Englishman, he made a frantic dash for a side passage. Eddie tracked him, but before he could shoot, Kagan had closed the doors.

  The car began its ascent. “What do we do when we get to the top?” Nina asked.

  Kagan leaned against a wall to take the weight off his injured leg. “I will tell the base commander what has really happened. I know him—I am sure he will believe me over Slavin.”

  “Won’t Slavin already be talking to him, though?” Eddie asked. He pulled out the AK’s magazine to check his remaining ammunition; including the one in the chamber, he was down to his last three rounds. “It’s no good you being mates with the guy if he’s already told his security forces to shoot us!”

  “We will see what they do when we reach the surface. If they will listen to me, we may have a chance.” He closed his eyes, grimacing as he straightened. “If they will not …”

  “We have to shoot our way out of an air base in the middle of Russia?” Nina finished for him. “Oh boy.”

  Tova put her head in her hands. “How could this happen to us?”

  Eddie reseated the magazine. “I wanna know how it could keep happening to us! Kagan, are you ready?”

  The Russian opened his eyes again. “I am.”

  “Great. Let’s see what’s waiting for us.”

  20

  Vietnam

  Chase quickly checked Castille’s AK-47. The magazine was fully loaded. He looked through the Land Cruiser’s rear window at the pursuing four-by-four—and saw Hoyt leaning from one of the side windows with a Kalashnikov of his own. “Down!”

  He ducked as the American’s AK chattered. The bumpy track threw most of Hoyt’s shots wide, but one still struck the tailgate and shattered the window. Natalia screamed.

  Chase kicked out the broken glass and fired two shots of his own. He knew his chances of hitting even the other Land Cruiser, never mind its occupants, were slim, but his main goal was to force the driver to fall back. A plan was already forming in his mind, but he would need more of a gap to pull it off …

  “Hold on!” Castille warned. The track ahead jinked to avoid a large rock. He braked, flicking the steering wheel to swing out the Land Cruiser’s rear end on the muddy surface before applying more power and spinning the wheel hard in the opposite direction. The four-by-four kicked up a spray of wet earth as it performed a power slide around the obstacle.

  Chase saw his chance and fired another pair of shots. He couldn’t tell if they had hit or not, but they had the effect he’d hoped for. The driver flinched, distracted at a crucial moment—and braked too hard as he turned. The second Toyota slewed sideways, its back end ripping through the undergrowth before hitting the rock, caving in the rear passenger door.

  The Englishman braced himself again as Castille took their own vehicle around another curve. Their pursuers were lost to sight behind the trees. “Nice driving, Hugo! I didn’t know you were into rallying.”

  “I grew up in the country,” Castille replied. “There is a lot of mud when it rains!”

  “Wow, that’s about the most interesting thing I’ve ever heard about Belgium.” In the mirror, Chase saw his friend make a sarcastic face. “Okay, Hugo, I’ve got a plan, but you probably won’t like it.”

  “You want me to slow down so you and Natalia can jump out, and then carry on to decoy them away from you?”

  “Well, that saves me explaining! So you do like it, then?”

  Castille snorted. “No, not one little bit! But,” he added, giving Natalia a quick smile, “it is the best chance we have to get you away from them. Edward will take care of you, you do not have to worry about that.”

  “I know,” she replied quietly. But there was something behind her words that made Chase give her a questioning look: resolve, or … resignation? He wasn’t sure.

  And there was no time to think about it further. “Here, here,” he said, pointing ahead. The track began to rise up a hill, the ground to the left dropping away quite steeply at the entrance to a valley. He realized it was the same one into which he and Natalia had been swept by the mudslide the previous night. “We’ll jump out behind those bushes there. Natalia, are you ready?” She gave him a worried nod.

  Chase clambered over the backseat and was about to slide across to the door when a thought stuck him. He reached back into the cargo area to snag Hoyt’s pack, heavy with the laptop and research notes stolen from the Russians. “Just making sure those twats don’t get their hands on this stuff,” he told Castille.

  The Belgian had an unhappy expression. “It sounds as if you do not think I will get away from them.”

  “I hope you do, but … fight to the end, Hugo.”

  “Fight to the end,” Castille echoed. He held up one hand; Chase clasped it firmly in a gesture of brotherhood, then slung the pack from his shoulder and moved to the door. “I hope to see you again soon.”

  “So do I,” Chase replied, heartfelt. He opened the door, then took a firm hold of the AK. “Just here. Natalia … go!”

  Castille slowed the Toyota to a jogging pace. Natalia jumped out, Chase behind her. They stumbled as they hit the ground, but recovered. Natalia scrambled behind the bushes, while Chase thumped a fist on the window to tell Castille they were clear. With a wave, the Belgian accelerated.

  Chase slithered down the hillside after Natalia. “Stay low,” he warned her. He could already hear the second Land Cruiser rapidly approaching.

  He brought up the Kalashnikov; a sharp-eyed passenger might spot their footprints. Thumps and creaks from the straining suspension became audible over the engine’s roar as Lock and Hoyt’s four-by-four pounded along the track. Chase felt Natalia tense beside him. The Land Cruiser drew level …

  And rushed past without a pause, charging into the jungle after Castille.

  Chase waited several seconds, then crawled up the slope and peered after it. The vehicle was out of sight behind the trees. He returned to Natalia. “All right, they’ve gone.”

  “I hope your friend will be okay,” said the young German. “If they catch him, they will—”

  “Hugo’s pretty tough,” Chase said firmly. “It’ll take more than an arsehole like Hoyt to bring him down. He’ll be fine, he’s not scared of anything. Well, except helicopters,” he added.

  “Helicopters?”

  “He had a bad experience with one once. Long story, and right now we need to get moving.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Good question. We’ll figure that out once we’ve got away from here—they might realize we’re not in the car any more and turn ’round. Come on.” The pair made their way down to the valley floor and headed deeper into the trees.

  Castille powered the Toyota along the track, bumps and ruts hammering at his vehicle. The hill was getting steeper, and he was uncomfortably aware that he might be heading toward—or even right into—the encampment from which he had helped rescue the aid workers, leaving him trapped between two forces.

  He pushed that concern aside; there were more immediate ones. Slowing to let out Chase and Natalia had given his pursuers back their momentum. The second Land Cruiser’s headlights reappeared in his mirrors. The rising terrain would slow him—and bring Lock’s men back into weapons range.

  All he could do was stay ahead for as long as he could. He gritted his teeth, determined to give his friend and the woman he was protecting as much of a chance to escape as possible.

  The path dropped into a dip, a large muddy puddle across it. Castille knew that the water would both slow him and make the four-by-four trickier to control, but he kept his foot on the accelerator. The other Land Cruiser was still homing in, Hoyt leaning from its window once more.

  Gunshots cracked through the jungle. The Belgian ducked, bracing himself as he reached the puddle …

 
; Despite his efforts, he was thrown forward by the deceleration as a huge wave of spray exploded from his vehicle’s tires. The water was deeper than he had thought. The steering wheel squirmed in his hands like an eel. He gripped it harder, trying to haul the off-roader back into line with the track—but it skidded toward a sodden ditch to one side.

  “Merde!” Castille cried as he realized he was past the point of no return. He let go of the wheel, bringing up both arms to protect his head—

  The Land Cruiser lurched sideways as its front wheel dropped into the ditch. Castille was slammed against the door, then pitched painfully into the steering wheel as the four-by-four came to an abrupt halt.

  He slumped back in his seat. His arms had cushioned the impact to an extent, but he still had a piercing pain in his forehead, and felt blood running from one nostril.

  Noise from behind, the growl of an engine—and shouts. Castille tried to push himself upright. The Land Cruiser had come to rest at an angle, two wheels in the ditch. He grabbed the door handle, only to find to his dismay that it wouldn’t open, blocked by the bank. Grunting in pain, he scrambled over the central console to the passenger door.

  It opened before he reached it.

  “Don’t fuckin’ move!” Hoyt shouted, thrusting his rifle at the Belgian. Castille drew back. The American looked into the four-by-four as other men yanked open the rear passenger door and the tailgate. “Shit! They’re not here!”

  Lock strode from the second Toyota. “What? Where are they?”

  “They musta bailed out somewhere back along the track.” He glared at the mercenary team’s driver. “You stupid son of a bitch. If you hadn’t hit that rock, we wouldn’t have lost sight of them!”

  Lock raised a hand. “Enough, enough!” He gestured at the overturned Land Cruiser’s lone occupant. “Get him out of there.”

  Hoyt and another man dragged Castille out of the four-by-four, throwing him into the muddy water. “All right—Castille, is it?” said Lock. “You’re going to take us to where you let out Natalia and your buddy.”