The King only wrinkled his brow as he pondered my answer.
“The triple horn on the left side of my chest represents unity with the Gods,” I said, my voice growing stronger, “It also commemorates my marriage to my wife and our own devotion to each other and to the Gods. Another major event in my life.”
“Are you planning on adding another image for the Zombie Apocalypse?” he asked, a touch of eagerness in his voice.
“I’m not sure I can find someone who can add one,” I replied. “There aren’t any tattoo shops open for business these days.”
“I’m going to give you the chance to prove yourself worthy of those tattoos,” he said, after a long pause. “If you pass the test, I’ll give you any new tattoo you choose. I’ll do the artwork, personally.”
“What do you mean, ‘prove myself’?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“Your answers were good ones,” he said. “But we’ll let the Gods decide if you’re one of the Einherjar or not. You’ll either prove yourself worthy, or you’ll die.”
“And if I succeed?” I asked, not sure what to expect from him.
“Then you’re free to go,” he said. “Weapons and all. We’ll have much to discuss before you leave, though.”
“Alright, then,” I said, sighing. “Let’s get this over with.”
“If you fail, the boy and the woman belong to me,” he added with a wolfish grin. “Just so you know what’s at stake, here.”
“I suspected it would be something like that,” I replied. “No pressure or anything.”
“Choose your weapon,” he said. “Mind you, you’ll only get the one and if you pick a gun, I get to pick how much ammo you take.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. It would be my luck that he would give me just enough ammo to load the weapon, if that. He was just as likely to give me an unloaded weapon and send me on my way. It would be best to choose something that wouldn’t need to be reloaded. Something I could fight with, without worrying about breaking or losing it.
I considered my options carefully. I could choose my cavalry saber, but I didn’t know how it would stand-up to continued use. It was a relic, after all. There wasn’t any sense in breaking it. My hammer was at the bottom of the Niangua River, so that left my options fairly limited. There really was only one choice.
“I’ll take my splitting maul,” I said, nodding.
“Good choice,” said the King, nodding approvingly. “It’s a hammer and an axe. A warrior’s choice, to be sure. Get some rest, if you can. The test will be first thing in the morning.”
“Will you at least remove the ropes?” I asked, figuring I already knew the answer.
“If you want us to cut you loose,” he said, shaking his head, “you have to pass the test, first.”
“Has anyone actually passed this test, before?” asked Spec-4.
“Not yet,” he replied. “No one has been worthy.”
With that, the big man leaned in close to my ear.
“She’s got fire,” he said, softly. “I like that. Is she yours?”
I had the distinct feeling that he meant that in a bad way. If I told him that she belonged to no one, that she was her own person…well…he might not respond to that the way you would expect. Then again, how would she react to it? Would she willingly go with him or profess to belong to me. Would she understand what he meant by it?
“I’m with him,” she blurted out.
Apparently, he hadn’t been as quiet as I thought. We both looked at her, more than a little surprised.
“I’m his woman,” she said again, more forcefully.
“Good choice,” he said to me, leeringly. “I bet she’s quite a handful and probably a demon in bed.”
I didn’t answer him, but glanced at Spec-4. I was wondering what her claim had gotten us into.
“Your man may die in the morning,” he said, staring at her with unbridled lust in his eyes. “You should send him to the next world with a smile on his face.”
With a gesture, the King called two of his men forward and they cut us both loose. My hands burned with the sudden rush of blood flowing back into the fingers. I began flexing my hands to restore circulation and work through the pain.
“My men will escort you two to a cabin,” he said. “You’ll be left alone, but under guard. My people will see to your son. If you try to escape, they’ll shoot him. Understand?”
“Completely,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“Now,” he said, reaching over and clapping me on the back. “Go bed that fine woman of yours. It very well could be the last chance you get. You won’t find this challenge to be an easy one.”
With that, Spec-4 and I were ushered away at the point of a gun. We were taken to a small cabin that had only one small bed and an even smaller porthole. Only a small child could crawl through it and make it out into the water.
“I expect to hear her calling out to the Gods,” shouted the King from down the hallway. “Hold nothing back, my friend. Let her embrace help you forget about the dangers of this world and give you something pleasant to think about until you reach Valhalla.”
With that, they shut the door behind us and I could hear the lock click into place. The room was only partially lit with a small lantern, and food had been left for us. It wasn’t much but it wasn’t an MRE, either. Four cans of ravioli and two cans of beef stew awaited us on a tray. There was even a small camp-stove for us to heat it on. Unfortunately, the food was the last thing on my mind, at the moment.
“Want to eat something before or after you make me scream?” asked Spec-4, grinning at me with an evil gleam in her eye.
“I don’t suppose you can pull a convincing fake?” I asked, smiling weakly.
“Do you want to risk him thinking we’re lying and take it out on Elliott?” she asked, the evil twinkle shining brightly.
"I think you're enjoying this a little too much," I replied, shaking my head.
"Maybe a little," she admitted, sheepishly. "So, what are we supposed to do?"
"Well, either you pull a 'When Harry Met Sally'," I said, "or we figure out how to fight our way out of here. I've fought this temptation for a long time and I won't be forced into it by this psycho."
Spec-4 nodded and quit smiling. I hated to sound like an asshole, but someone had to take the situation seriously. It would be easy for me to give in and break my vows. It would be easy for me to blame it on the situation. Either way, I wouldn't be able to look my wife in the face.
"We could agree to never tell anyone," she said softly, looking down.
"I can't do that," I said, shaking my head. "The truth is everything. With the world falling apart all around us, your word is all you have. Without that, we're no better than the animals who tortured me."
"Alright," she said, her eyes growing moist, "we'll figure something else out."
"Either we pull this off or that guy is going to try to take you as his own," I said, meeting her gaze. "I won't let that happen."
"He'd have to kill me, first," she said, steel in her voice.
"Me, too," I agreed.
"What do you suppose this test you have to pass is all about?" she asked, changing the subject.
I knew it was getting a bit too emotional for both of us, so I didn't mind the subject change. In fact, I was rather relieved by it.
"I don't know," I admitted, "but, I doubt that its anything good for me."
"You have to pass it," she said, suddenly forceful. "It's our only chance of walking out of here alive."
"I doubt he's going to let us leave anyway," I said, biting my lower lip. "They beat Elliott. If I had to guess, I'd say they questioned him about something. He didn't talk or they would have known more about us."
"What do you think they want?" she asked, surprised by the revelation.
"Have you noticed their weapons and gear," I said, gesturing behind me. "It's all a collection of sporting rifles and shotguns. All civilian stuff. No tactical gear or armor. I wo
uld guess that they saw what Elliott was wearing and wanted more of it for themselves."
"Are you sure about that?" she asked. "Maybe he was just hurt from the tumble down the river."
"The bruises on his face hadn't started to heal yet," I said, shaking my head. "Also, if he was still hurt that bad from the river, then they wouldn't have bothered tying his hands behind his back."
"Maybe you should have been a detective," she said, frowning. "I didn't notice any of that."
"I'm a trained C.O.[15]," I said. "They pay me to be observant and more than a bit suspicious of everything. That's what kept me alive all these years."
"What did he mean that you were one of the ein-something-or-others?" she asked.
"The Einherjar," I replied, looking up with surprise.
I had almost forgotten he'd used that word.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"It means lone warrior," I said. "They are the chosen ones. Chosen by Odin to fight in the final battle of Ragnarok."
"Do you really think that it will happen?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"I think it already is happening," I said, sitting beside her. "Ragnarok is the end of the world. When even the Gods themselves will fall in battle. The survivors will have to rebuild from the ashes of the old world. That pretty much sounds like what we're living through, to me."
"Well," she said, putting her head on my shoulder, "when you put it that way, you make a convincing argument. So where are the Gods in all of this?"
"I would guess that they are doing bigger things than us mere mortals could understand," I said, smiling. "There could be more going on than we know about. It's not like we can turn on the TV and keep up with global events."
"Fair enough," she said.
I slipped my arm around her shoulders and held her there in the dim light of the lantern. She leaned in closer to me and slipped her arms around my chest. Just because I refused to give in to this idiot who claimed to be the "King of the Lake" didn't mean I didn't feel temptation. After all, Einherjar or not, I was still a mortal man.
We sat there for a long while in the semi-darkness, each alone with our thoughts. I couldn't quit running over different scenarios in my mind. By the time the power in the dynamos on the lanterns began to fail and the room had faded to near total darkness, I had a plan in mind. I just hoped that it would work.
Spec-4 looked like she was in shock when I gently pushed her onto her back and slid onto the bed beside her. I settled in next to her and pressed my lips to her ear. If this was going to work, I couldn't afford anyone but her hearing what I had in mind. I just hoped she'd go along with it. If she didn't agree to it, we would have a problem. There wasn't much I could do to convince the King that we had done what he instructed us to do. Time would tell.
“We’re going to have to make this as convincing as possible,” I whispered into her ear.
“I was thinking the same thing,” she whispered back, her voice a little husky,
Pushing me over onto my back, she straddled me. There in the dim light of the lantern, I could see her silhouetted against the darkness. My breath caught in my throat as I felt the proximity of her skin to mine. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I just couldn’t find the strength to stop her.
The dim light reflected on her skin as she leaned down towards me. I could only stare open mouthed at her. She was more beautiful than I have ever noticed before. Her mouth found mine, and I could feel the moist heat of her tongue in my mouth. I could also feel the heat stirring in my veins. The pain and pleasure were both exquisite in their sweetness.
When her hands found my belt and the button to my pants, I wanted to yell out like some sort of wild animal. However, as her hand found the flesh beneath, I groaned. Both from the ecstasy and the torture in my soul. I was nearly at the point of no return when the images of my wife and sons flooded into my mind. My hearth and home were everything to me. No matter how badly I wanted this, I couldn’t let it happen. I had to stop.
Gently, I reached down and pulled her hands away from me. I could see the mixture of arousal, confusion and anger on her face. Her pale eyes flashed in the semi-darkness. Her fingers curled into claws and she closed her eyes, sighing in silent rage.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just can’t. Please understand.”
“I do,” she whispered back, tears flowing down her cheeks.
I let go of her hands and gently wiped away her tears with my thumbs. With a warrior-like yell, she drove both of her fists into my chest. It hurt, but it didn’t hurt me as much as the look on her face. I could smell the arousal in the air, and the frustration. I wasn’t sure who’s it was.
“I love you,” she whispered. “God-damn it, I love you.”
With that, she rolled off of me and onto her back. Her fingers found the bed sheets and clenched into fists. She bit her lip at first, and arched her back high off of the bed. Right before my eyes, she gave a performance that would have put Meg Ryan to shame. It was convincing. It was damned convincing. I was proud of her and more frustrated than ever. Part of me wanted to be the one who made her make that noise.
13 May
We were forced from our slumber before the sun was even up by two armed men barging into our little room. Spec-4 quickly covered herself with a blanket while I just sat up and glared venom at the intruders. One of them threw her clothes on the bed.
"The King wants to see you both," said one with a double-barreled shotgun pointed at me.
"So," I said, glaring at them both.
"Now!" said the other one, leveling a bolt-action deer rifle at my face.
Neither of them appeared to have any training whatsoever. From the condition of the weapons, their appearance and their bully-like attitude, I would have figured them for just a couple of local tough-guy wannabe’s who used the end of the world as an excuse to become a pair of thugs. I'd seen tougher guys than this, many times before. They were fooling themselves if they thought I was impressed. Then again, they did have guns pointed at me so I decided I'd go along with them. For now, anyway.
"You, too," demanded the shit-head with the shotgun, gesturing at Spec-4.
"If you want me to get dressed, then you'll have to turn around," said Spec-4.
"You heard the lady," I said, slipping my boots on and standing up. "Show her some respect."
"Show me some of them titties," said shotgun-shithead.
A new nickname just finalized in my head. These two would now be shotgun-shithead and the dolt. Dolt for the bolt-action he was carrying.
"Look, shithead," I said, tensing for a fight. "Either back out of here while she gets dressed…"
"Or you'll what?" demanded shithead, turning towards me.
I stepped forward quickly and grabbed the end of his weapon before he could point it at me. With a twist, I yanked it out of his hands before he could fire and drove my free hand into his face. He went sprawling back out into the hallway and fell on his ass. Blood was pouring freely from his broken nose and mangled lips.
The Dolt tried to react, but I was faster. Spinning the shotgun around, I snapped it against my shoulder and stuck the barrel against his face. He froze in place as I brought both hammers back on the shotgun with a loud double click. Spec-4 dropped the blanket and grabbed the rifle from his trembling hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her. She was naked and taking a combat stance.
With no pretense at modestly, she quickly checked the weapon and snapped the bolt open. The look of disgust on her face told me more than I needed to know. What she said next confirmed the feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"The stupid thing's empty," she said, tossing it onto the bed.
I gave a small shrug and pulled both triggers on the old double barrel. With a click that was nearly deafening in the small cabin, I dropped both hammers onto empty chambers. The look of relief that washed over Dolt's face told me he wasn't sure if Shithead had actually unloaded his or not. The acrid stench o
f urine suddenly filled the room. Dolt had pissed himself.
The sound of applause from the hallway shattered the silence as the King stepped through the door. Two guards stood behind him, weapons at the ready.
"Well done," he said, still clapping. "You're better than I expected you to be. Don't make any sudden moves, though. The men behind me are a little jumpy and their weapons are loaded, I can promise you."
Dolt suddenly looked a little surer of himself as he snatched the shotgun out of my hands. Breaking it down, he inserted two rounds that he snatched from Shithead’s pocket. I recognized the shell casing, instantly. It was a number eight shot. It was just birdshot. It might not kill me, but it damned sure wouldn't do me any good, either. I might survive it but at this range, it might take my head off, too. No sense pushing my luck.
"You're lucky I don't just kill you," snarled Dolt.
"That might be a bit scarier coming from someone who wasn’t covered in their own piss," I snapped back, just waiting for him to try.
"Boys," snapped the King, stepping between us. "If either of you do anything stupid, I'll have you shot. That goes for you too, Carl."
Dolt seemed surprised by the threat, but didn't argue. Instead, he lowered the shotgun and took a few steps back away from me.
"Why don't we have some breakfast," said the King. "Carl, why don't you go clean yourself up. Have the Doc take a look at Jimmy. I think his nose is broken."
With that, the Dolt gathered up Shithead and they headed off down the hallway. We all stood there a moment, no one speaking. The King handed Spec-4 her clothes. She took them and turned away from us. While she dressed, the King gave her one lusty glance and turned back to me.
"You fight pretty damned good for a cop," he said. "Your badge says Sheriff on it. Hers says Deputy. You're a long fuckin' way from Nathanael County, Sheriff."
"Badges don't mean much, anymore," I said. "I can't really say that there is a Nathanael County left. Just a few survivors and a lot of the dead."
"The dead are everywhere," he replied, tossing me my badge. "The Gates of Hel are open and the dead have returned. Ragnarok is upon us."
Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) Page 15