Ulrik’s already sky-high level of horror climbed a notch more, as he realized why he had not seen the young creatures yet.
There weren’t any.
There weren’t even two giant octopuses—there was just one, its body stretched under the bridge and rising up with a head on each end, on either side of the bridge. The smaller tentacles Ulrik had mistaken for young were attached to the beast’s midsection.
Trond’s heavy double-bladed ax was out, and he was slicing away at the wall of yellow-blue tentacles ahead of him, as if he were rapidly chopping cord wood for the winter. Fist-sized pieces of bloody yellow flesh sprayed around him with each swing of the mighty ax, covering the man’s short purple beard in gore.
The huge man’s strikes were doing damage, but not enough.
A tentacle shot over the road and wrapped around Trond’s thigh, tugging him into the air. At first Ulrik thought he would lose his long-handled ax, but he clutched it with both hands and swung the blade down. The ax sliced along the length of the huge appendage, but it continued to pull him out toward the cables, where it would yank him through and down into the water.
But the creature surprised Ulrik—another tentacle from the other side of the bridge shot across the open space, wrapping around Trond’s face and chest.
Then the strange, giant octopus pulled in both directions, as it had been doing all along, engaged in an endless tug-of-war with itself. But with Trond’s body in the middle this time, the conclusion was obvious.
The top half of the large man’s body was wrenched off his pelvis and legs. Following a series of wet pops—the man’s spine separating—a cloudburst of red mist filled the air. Then the tentacle on the right, without the pressure of Trond’s body holding it up, jerked back. The long yellow limb slapped into one of the support cables and flipped the upper half of Trond’s still-screaming body over the wires. His legs fell to the roadway, suddenly released by the other tentacle.
Ulrik was unable to help, but felt he should bear witness. Just when he thought Trond’s upper body would scream all the way to the water, another yellow and copper-tarnished blue limb shot out and snagged him, pulling him down into the depths.
Ulrik turned and raced his ATV down the last part of the bridge’s expanse, no longer caring about any potholes or missing segments. If the incredible creature behind him hadn’t had humans as food before—or in a long time—he didn’t want to be around when it realized it wanted a second helping.
The small artificial island of Peberholm was ahead of him. The road ran right off the bridge and onto the island, which was no more than 1000 feet wide, and over two miles long. The tiny seawall of rocks surrounding the island would not keep the giant sea creature from crawling up on to land.
He just hoped the others had made it to the tunnel, and that their escape route wasn’t flooded. Or a nest for the damned, double-headed octopus.
Then he realized that even if it wasn’t, there was nothing to stop the beast from following them into the tunnel.
He twisted the throttle on the handlebars harder, taking the ATV to its maximum speed. He bent his head low into the wind.
Faster, he thought. Must. Go. Faster.
16
Val stood two hundred yards from the mouth of the tunnel, next to her ATV. She was waiting for Ulrik and Trond, but she had seen Trond trapped on the far side of the horrible tentacles. She held little hope that the man would make it off the bridge. But she still believed Ulrik might make it.
And then she saw him, racing off the bridge and onto the low island, heading for her. Behind him, the massive octopus creature dropped into the water under the bridge, pulling in its long yellow tendrils down into the turbulent blue. Does it sleep there? she wondered. And then she had a horrible thought. What if there is an underwater cave that leads to the tunnel? But then the tunnel would have been flooded, and it was not.
She understood Ulrik’s haste. He was concerned about the same thing. But they had no choice. The end of the island was barren, save for the entrance to the tunnel. She had sent the others through, and she prayed to Odin that it was clear the whole way. There were no boats, and crossing the bridge again would be suicide.
As he grew closer, she turned and mounted her ride, the motor still idling. She prepared to launch into the tunnel, once he caught up with her.
He slowed when he reached her.
“Trond?” she asked.
“No.”
She released her brake and they both raced into the darkness.
The tunnel was clear for the two and half miles of its length with only a few small puddles of condensation and drips on the road surface. Val didn’t think the tunnel would last another hundred years before the invasive water found a crack and poured in, but she really didn’t know.
When she came out of the tunnel mouth, still traveling on a road that paralleled the Danish shore, she was reminded of how the octopus-thing had pulled itself up the pylons of the bridge, and she wanted to be away from the coast as soon as possible.
The others had obviously had the same idea, and were far ahead, racing away from the strait. The area around the road had once been a city like Oslo or Stavanger. Concrete and steel ruins surrounded her, the crumbled remains of buildings and structures overtaken by pervasive vines and sea grasses.
Val kept the speed on, until she overtook most of the others. She was not surprised to find Morten in the lead of the headlong rush along this new road into uncharted territory. The blackened remains of an ancient fire stretched along the sides of the road. She could see the rubble of old settlements beyond that. Thick trees and the artificial mountains of old skeletal buildings now overgrown with plant life, lined the left side of the route.
There was nowhere to turn off the road. Its surface was a soft carpet of vegetation, so she was content to continue ahead. They passed under a few bridges, and then through a concrete chute that led to another tunnel, short and clear enough to see the light on the other side. So she rode on, with Morten at her side, and the others close behind.
A few miles further, Val pulled to a stop. The road ahead had been piled high with rusting and burned out vehicle husks. Their path toward Copenhagen and deeper into the rest of Denmark had been blocked. There was no easy way forward, and back led only to the sea. But there was an exit ramp, leading up and off to the right. Val slowed at the top of the ramp, and Morten matched her pace until they came to a stop.
“What are you thinking?” he asked her.
“That I do not want to go into the ruins of the city.” She looked around. At the top of the ramp they could see the curved road they had been on, and beyond the wall of cars. But a few hundred yards ahead was yet another bridge and another pile of cars blocking passage. To her left was another pile of rocks and debris stretching clear across the road. The only clear path led straight into the city, unless they wanted to slow their pace by taking the vehicles off road and attempt to skirt these man-made road blocks.
The others arrived, and Nils climbed off the back of Stig’s ATV, clearly having been uncomfortable on his perch atop the secondary propane tanks.
No one spoke. Their faces looked long and dejected after the loss of Trond. Val didn’t need to tell the men that they would have a brief ceremony for Trond when the time was right and they felt safe.
Ulrik pulled up next to her, silent and waiting. His fingers stroked his beard.
“Nils? Are there other ways into Denmark, if we go along this route?” She pointed in the direction available.
“Most likely a few bridges that would still be standing.” Seeing the looks on his companions’ faces when he mentioned bridges, he quickly clarified. “They would be short spans, like those we just passed under.”
“Then we go this way,” Val said.
As engines started up again, Ulrik held back, and she could tell he wanted to speak to her.
“What is it, good Ulrik?”
“You realize we are being herded, yes?” he asked her
.
“Of course. But the alternative is we take these off road.” She patted her handlebars as she spoke about the ATV.
“They were made for that,” he pointed out.
“But it will be slow. And we do not know the reason for the herding. Perhaps the road we wanted is closed. We are on another island, only this one is bigger. On the map, it is called Amager. We need to get to Sealand, which is an even bigger island.” She pointed in the direction they could not travel. “Then another island, and then we need to get to the mainland. No matter what, we will have difficulties until we reach the continent. If there are no bridges or tunnels that way...”
“I see,” Ulrik said. “Yet this path is...”
“Too convenient?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“So we stay alert. We must do better than we did on the bridge. And the afternoon is fading. We need to find a place to stay for the night. I want us out of the city, if possible.”
They set off again, and the road was flat and straight, strange structures lining the road until they came across one so strange that they all stopped. It was a massive white tower with spinning blades. Val recognized it as a windmill, but she had never seen one like this. There was no mill or water pump connected to the huge structure.
“What is it for?” Stig asked Nils.
“Electricity. It is still spinning because the wind does not stop blowing, but...the people needed to harness the energy are long gone.”
Val hoped he was right.
17
When they reached the next intersection, they were once again herded by obstacles in the road. Gigantic vehicles were parked across streets, turning intersections into one winding road. One of the large vehicles had a long white trailer behind it. They might have been able to squeeze under it, but someone had taken the time to pile rocks and perfect rectangular blocks of concrete in the space beneath it. The other vehicles were larger and stranger, and Val couldn’t guess what they’d been used for.
She shared a meaningful look with Ulrik, and the group followed the road left. A forest of sickly looking, ten-foot tall trees grew on either side of the road, once again limiting their visibility. At the next intersection, nature had helped create the roadblock—more of the ten-foot trees grew right out of the middle of the pavement. The rest of the intersection had been blocked with piles of metal girders and poles like those they had seen along the way. Val recalled similar poles on the bridge, and Nils had said they had been used to provide light for the road at night.
“We are being herded,” Ulrik said to Val.
She nodded, then accelerated in frustration, her ATV’s tires leaving skid marks on the ground. The others raced to catch up. The road continued through the young forest. Occasionally there was a place to turn off, but each was blocked by a single thick log laid across the road. In some cases, a metal sign was planted in the middle of the turn, with a painted arrow directing them to stay on the main road.
Val rolled to a stop, and the others joined her. Over the humming of her ATV’s idling engine, she confided in Ulrik. “We have no choice but to go forward. Or do you see another option?”
“It will be miles to circle back out of this maze,” Ulrik replied, thinking. “And we have no guarantee that an alternate route would keep us away from whoever has done this.”
Val ran a hand through her hair, and re-adjusted her goggles. “We also do not know if the roadway’s creator is still waiting at the end of it.”
“I would be,” Morten interjected. “You do not involve so many people in such labors only to abandon your snare.”
“Perhaps they—” Oskar began, but Val cut him off.
“If I go in, will you follow?” She spoke only to Ulrik, and it was understood that if he followed her in, the others would all follow him.
“Where does such brazen confidence come from?” Ulrik asked. “That you would ride knowingly into a snare?”
Val smiled. “I have charged headlong into far worse—without strapping men to fight by my side—and have survived well enough that I lack the scars to prove the stories true.”
The man’s face showed no expression for a moment, and she thought Morten would pounce on the chance for dissent, when Ulrik barked a laugh. “Very well, then. If you said to go in blindfolded, I would go. You are our leader. And we were not chosen to run home like whipped dogs at the first hint of strife.”
She drove on, deep into the artificial canyons of abandoned humanity. Many of the buildings still stood, rising three or four stories on either side of the road. The building facades, with their missing windows, resembled the smiles of old men with rotted and cracked teeth.
Despite the city’s clear lack of habitation, there was something about this place that made her suspect people were nearby. It took her a few minutes following the laid out path, before she understood why.
The birds.
There were none. No birds at all. None flying overhead, no obvious nests on windowsills in the blackened eyes of the ancient structures. No chirping in the trees.
There were only two reasons an area would be completely devoid of bird life: radiation or people—enough to hunt them out of existence.
They crossed a bridge and entered the island of Sealand, where the buildings on the far side were in a worse state, as was the road. The ground was split open in several places, although the thick knobby tires of the ATVs made short work of most cracks.
The real problem loomed ahead.
The road was blocked by a mountain of long metal chassis with wheels shorn of their rubber tires. The group had seen a few of these elongated behemoths on the journey through southern Sweden. Nils had described them as ‘Buses’—vehicles for moving groups of people.
The blockade stretched across their path, and as far as Val could see, there were no turns at the end of this one.
Nowhere for them to go.
Her senses heightened, searching for a trap. She slowed her ATV until she got right up to the blockade. It looked unstable. Long, thin pieces of metal flapped and wobbled in the wind.
Just before a final ivy-covered brick building with human-sized letters jutting from the roof, reading: TIVOLI, the metal fence they had driven along was flattened down. An area of the ivy on the wall of the brick Tivoli building had been cleared away, and an arrow pointed back into the opening through the metal fence. It was wide enough for them to drive through, and it was the only choice, besides backtracking to the last bridge they had crossed. They would then have to find another way on to the island, and it had been a big enough hassle reaching it the first time.
“We go in. No other choice,” Val said, indicating Ulrik should take the lead.
“I will cover our rear,” Stig told Val.
She nodded, and appreciated the fact that Ulrik’s vote of confidence in her had worked like magic on the others. She even noticed Morten and Oskar silently adjusting their weapons for quick draw. It was apparent to everyone that if something was going to happen, it would be in the trees beyond the fallen fence. They were all ready for it.
Ulrik drove through the opening, and Val was right behind him. The barrier of thick trees was shorter than they expected—just a few feet wide, and then they came into a clearing filled with the strangest things any of them had ever seen.
18
They entered a vast rectangular clearing fringed by tree stumps and jagged bits of metal sticking up out of the ground. Surrounding the stumps were lines of sentinel trees, acting like a wall, or border. But what filled the clearing felt otherworldly. The strangely shaped buildings, tall metal spires, a huge wooden boat trapped in a pond, and red rails of jumbled metal twisted and curled skyward, felt like a slap in the face. They had been expecting an ambush, not a strange wonderland of unusual shapes.
Ulrik stopped his ATV as soon as the strange visual delights appeared.
“Nils?” Val asked. “What in the name of the gods are we looking at here?”
“I have no idea.
Nothing like this was in any book I ever read.”
Metal loops soared into the sky, and buildings with tops like turnips dotted the clearing. Giant human skulls sat impaled on fences, and towers dangled what looked like chairs from chains. There were huge machines that resembled spiders, with mechanical limbs. One building had multiple stacked roofs, with the corners extending past the building and turning up, as if they had curled in from the rain. But the most curious things were the winding, snaking rails of metal. They climbed, dipped and looped all through the park. White support struts held the thing in the air, like the parts of some long dragon.
“I think this was some kind of place for people to come with their children. For fun.” Nils shrugged his shoulders.
Val turned to look at the historian. “For fun? This place looks like the heart of Hel’s domain.”
She took the lead and they wound through the strange park, passing stone lions, plastic sculptures of creatures Nils identified as ‘giraffes’ and low walls and bench seats made of stone.
There were countless places for people to hide in wait, but they saw no one. But they are here, Val thought. They are here, somewhere. All of this is free of vegetation. Without humans keeping the structures free of creeping vines and trees, the whole park would have been covered in an ocean of green within a decade or two.
Val stopped in front of a plastic purple octopus, whose tentacles each held a small metal car with a chair.
“They worshipped that thing at the bridge?” Ulrik said in disbelief.
“I do not think so,” Nils said. “This looks like a plaything for children.”
“The seats are too small for a man,” Ulrik agreed.
The air was suddenly pierced by a shrill, shrieking noise that could not have come from any animal or human. It was so loud several of them clapped their hands to their ears to block out the noise.
Viking Tomorrow Page 8