by C. Gockel
Beatrice shakes her head. “Considering all the other things she’s eaten, I think her talent is eating anything.”
Fenrir drops the cartridge from her mouth and starts to growl in the direction they just came.
Steve’s voice snaps on the radio. “I’m thrilled to know Fenrir is the next great thing in nuclear waste disposal. Now get her over here so we can pull her up the falls!”
Fenrir’s ears perk. She scoops up all the cartridges into her mouth and lopes over to the frozen column of water. Amy watches as one of the guys affixes a hook to her Kevlar doggie jacket.
“Come on,” says Beatrice, “Let’s detach the sled so they can haul it up.”
Shaking her head, Amy goes to help her grandmother. That’s when she notices Bohdi standing very quietly looking at the snow. It hits her then that he just got Rush’s approval—for what she’s not sure. She touches his arm, and his eyes follow her hand. She almost asks him if he’s alright, but knows he isn’t.
The cries of Valkyries rise in the distance. Fenrir growls and barks at the sky. Pulling away, Bohdi swings his rifle around and shoots into the night. Amy hears screams from the sky that are too close for comfort. Over the radio, Rush’s voice crackles. “My man, Bohdi, you are the angel of death.”
Someone else says, “I didn’t even see her.”
Several other guys pick up their rifles and fire, and the screams continue. Amy runs to help her grandmother with the sled.
x x x x
Bohdi puts his hand on the back of the snowmobile and braces his feet in the snow. It’s not deep. The frozen stream they are following comes from a volcanic source. It must have remained fluid for a long time after the last snowfall because it’s cut a cave through the snow which is nearly fifteen feet high. The cave is just tall enough for him to stand at the center without stooping and just wide enough for the snowmobiles to travel in single file. It twists through the mountains, and in some places there are rises that are too steep and too icy for the snowmobiles to ascend. Places like here.
Through his green-tinted night vision goggles, he sees Amy ahead of him, standing beside the snowmobile, bracing her hands on the handlebars. He hears the click of her boots on the ground. Like him, she’s wearing metal crampons on the soles of her boots; the metal tines keep them from slipping. They’re standing a little to the left of the stream, and there’s snow beneath them, not ice, but the snow has an icy crust. Berry described it as being like crème brûlée.
“Ready?” Amy whispers. Bohdi grumbles in assent. “One, two, three, push!” she says. With a grunt Bohdi pushes the snowmobile up the steep bank. The force of his weight breaks the crust on the snow, and his feet sink and drag. Amy’s smaller and lighter and doesn’t seem to get caught. For once it seems like she’s pulling him along and not the other way around. The rise is only about ten meters, but by the time they level out his calves are burning.
Bohdi sees the shapes of the other team members ahead. They push the snowmobile along to make room for the others coming up the incline.
“All up!” says Beatrice, a few moments later. She and Valli are the last pair. Bohdi and Amy swing back up into their seats. Amy hits the accelerator, and they cruise silently forward in electric stealth mode.
They’ve been following the frozen stream for a few hours. Except for getting out to push, Bohdi hasn’t done much, and that’s a bad thing. It has given him too much time to think, and thinking makes him burn. He may still be magically weak, but he feels like he might immolate himself in his fury—for that reason he sits back in his seat as much as he can. He doesn’t want to be too close to Amy when he explodes.
His fingers tighten on his rifle. Is he magically weak? Valli’s sword Kusanagi had misfired when he’d aimed at Bohdi and Gerðr. Instead of a gale it created a whirlwind, and Bohdi had been at the eye of the storm. The Einherjar had been lifted up and spun around like leaves while he’d stood and watched. When they dropped, they’d been confused and dizzy and most had been puking. Picking them off had been easy, and Gerðr, the SEALs, and Bohdi had done just that. He was terrified they’d get up and attack, and they’d be cornered again, or maybe he was just angry—he’s not sure he can distinguish between anger and terror anymore. Bohdi feels like a monster, and at the same time he’s still cruising on an adrenaline rush that makes him feel like he’s flying and that he’s warm despite the cold. He adjusts his rifle in his hands, shakes his head, hears a growl, and realizes it’s from him. No one comments. They’re all amped, angry, and grief stricken.
This is all so stupid. He gets it that Odin is terrified of human tech and fertility, but the Allfather could have taken advantage of both. The Allfather could have opened up Nornheim to humans, let them deal with the Norns, adze and spiders—they could have turned it into a beautiful resort world—Bohdi and Odin could both agree that pissing off the Norns would be a good thing. Odin could have brought human scientists to Asgard to study magic and trade tech. It could have been a Renaissance for Asgard and Earth alike, but no … Odin had to attack Steve and Earth, and had to go after Amy, too.
Steve says Odin is stuck in a feudal mentality, where prosperity is a zero sum game. It’s still stupid. And because Odin’s stupid, humans and Asgardians are dying and will keep dying.
The skin on his back prickles with heat. He squeezes his eyes shut, releases a breath, and opens them again. He tries to focus on the surroundings to distract himself. Craning his neck, he looks up at the snow and ice arching above their heads. It would probably be pretty if he wasn’t wearing night vision goggles that turned the whole world a too-bright shade of green.
In his ear Steve’s voice cracks, “Check in, rear to front.”
One by one, the team checks in. The check in doesn’t take as long now.
“What the—” Berry’s voice puts Bohdi instantly on alert. He switches from his night vision goggles to the infrared torch mounted on his M4. He looks through his sights, but he can see nothing.
Amy’s voice buzzes in his ear. “It’s the source!”
Berry’s voice cracks again. “The ice covering the stream is turning to water up here. Everyone get to the side of the cave, try to avoid getting wet.”
Bohdi is thinking that will be hard. Even for a driver like Amy, the cave is too narrow … but it widens abruptly, and the snowmobiles easily hug the side. Someone says in a hushed voice, “How?” For a moment Bohdi doesn’t know what they’re talking about, but then he sees that the stream has begun to glow.
“Loki didn’t know how it worked,” Amy says. “It happens near the source where the water gets hotter.”
Tucker’s voice buzzes on the radio. “Wow.”
Bohdi’s eyes widen in amazement. The closer they get to “the source,” the brighter the stream becomes—and more colorful. It becomes a glowing rainbow in the snow. The snow cave walls pick up the colors—red becomes pink, purple becomes lavender, yellow is lemon, and indigo is baby blue. Sharp intakes of breath sound in his ear. And then he hears clicks. It takes him a minute, but he realizes that the guys are taking pictures with their phones.
Steve’s voice cracks, “Turn your phones off. When we’re not walking we’re not recharging them, and you never know when we’ll need them for light.”
“Putting my camera back in my fanny pack, Captain,” says Redman.
Berry snickers and says in a high falsetto voice, “It’s like we’re in another world.”
They lost three people, and Bohdi knows that Berry and Redman have to be as furious as he is—and probably sadder—Beckman and Licht were their friends for much longer. But joking despite pain is like giving the finger to fate. He hears groans and chuckles rise from the line, and he feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips—at the joke or the giving the finger part, he doesn’t know.
“It feels warmer here,” Tucker says.
Bohdi sniffs at the air. It is warmer and humid. “Losing our cover,” says Larson. Bohdi hears a pitter-patter noise, and the ceiling abo
ve him suddenly disappears. He looks up and sees no moon or stars, but the sky glistens and something cold and wet falls on his cheeks. “Rain?” he whispers.
Sigyn’s voice cracks over the radio, “Snow. But the pond is turning it to rain.” Bohdi blinks and looks down. Ahead is a small pond that shines in the darkness with every color of the rainbow, steam rising in curling clouds from its surface. The snow around it has melted in the shape of a crater, and the crater glows with reflections of all the pond’s colors.
“Whoa…” someone says.
On an unspoken command the team slows their vehicles, and they coast on the snow that is banked about five feet from the water. The pond is only about half as wide as a tennis court. He hears hissing as the raindrops approach its surface and the sound of boiling water. He blinks. At the center of the pond, water is bubbling up from the depths. The stream they followed is one of two that spills over the pond’s edges. The other one is nearly opposite them.
“We have to follow the other stream,” Amy says, but Bohdi’s eyes are focused on the water. Shapes are dancing in the boiling pool; they are as long as his forearm and semi-translucent, and they seem to be wearing sparkling veils.
“Are those sea horses?” he whispers.
He hears Claire gasp, and Beatrice say, “Oh, my.”
“I wish we could stop,” Amy says over the radio. “Is this magic?”
“I do not know,” says Gerðr, her voice hushed.
“Argh!” someone says; it might be Tucker.
Amy must have hit the brakes because Bohdi’s body jerks, and their vehicle skids and comes to a halt, just before plunging past the snow line at the water’s edge. Bohdi turns his head to see what the hold up is. Tucker’s snowmobile is stopped directly behind the one with Gerðr and Harding, which has caused a three snowmobile pile up. Bohdi looks beyond Tucker and sees Gerðr with her helmet and bracelets off, staring into the boiling fountain. Steve slows, turns, and then over the radio, Bohdi hears a sound like a whine from Steve’s throat. Or maybe that’s Bohdi. He hears another vehicle skid, but he can’t look. He’s mesmerized by Gerðr. Color dances on her face, and she is like an impressionist painting come to life, but she makes his blood heat and his mouth water in a way a painting never could.
“It is not magic,” Gerðr says, eyes focused on the water, her voice filled with wonder.
Tucker’s voice rises, loud enough to be heard without a radio. “You’re magic.”
Gerðr’s eyes snap up, and Bohdi finds his breath catching, and his hands going to his seatbelt. Gerðr puts her helmet back on, and Bohdi swears every man in the group groans.
Tucker bumps his head down on the handlebars. “I am so sorry, Ma’am.”
Silence hangs over the group for a beat too long. Clearing his throat, Redman says, “Wow, the fountain’s pretty …” It’s a transparent attempt to change the subject, but Bohdi looks to the pond—and it actually works. The fountain is mesmerizing with its bubbling colors and the strange creatures gracefully spinning in slow motion. “Can I videotape this?” Thomas says. He coughs. “For science?”
Steve sighs. “Go ahead.”
“They could be some sort of bioluminescent organisms,” Amy whispers. She turns back to Bohdi. “You want to help me catch a bioluminescent seahorse with your coat?”
“No, Doctor,” says Steve.
The light is catching on Amy’s pale skin; but it doesn’t make her look like an impressionistic painting. Still the reference to the magic rat he caught for her makes Bohdi’s lips quirk. He knows she’s joking, but he plays along. “I think my helmet would work better since the water is boiling.”
“Patel, Dr. Lewis, that’s enough,” Steve grumbles. “It’s time to hit the road.”
“The seahorses are so pretty,” Claire says, as Larson starts his snowmobile, and Steve adjusts his to get in line. As the pileup disentangles, Amy sets them back on course, and Bohdi’s actually glad he’s not driving. He gets to watch the seahorses for a little while longer.
Over the radio, Harding’s voice buzzes. “Oh, Mills, I wish you could see this.” Her words call to mind memories of the tall, quiet, dark-haired woman Bohdi had barely known—and the moment is suddenly bittersweet.
On the makeshift sled ahead of them, Fenrir turns and starts growling at the sky. Rush, sitting on the back, raises his rifle and rolls his eyes heavenward. “I think we have company coming.”
Bohdi raises his rifle and peers through the sights but sees nothing.
“Move out,” says Steve. At the front of the line, Larson hits his accelerator. One by one, the team does likewise.
Over the sound of gurgling water and hissing snowflakes, a single Valkyrie cry rises in the night. It makes the hairs on the back of Bohdi’s neck stand on end.
Rush’s voice cracks on the radio, “Bitches.”
“Hold on,” Amy says, as they reach the second stream. She veers hard left, nearly sending Bohdi out of his seat, and then she hits the accelerator. For a few moments there are raindrops above their head, and then briefly snow, and then they are in another cave. Instead of being on an incline, they are on a decline. From behind them comes the sound of plasma fire and splashing water. “Go, go, go!” someone says. Plasma fire whizzes past them, lighting the cave. At the tail end of the team, Valli shouts, “I will use Kusanagi,” and Bohdi hears the wailing of a gale and Valkyrie screams.
“Drop ahead!” shouts Larson.
Fenrir barks, and Rush’s grunt sounds over the radio. And then Amy says, “Whoa!” and the snowmobile is airborne. A second later they hit the ground, the shock making Bohdi’s teeth snap together, just as plasma fire goes shooting above, dislodging some snow and sending it down on their heads.
“Beatrice!” Amy yells.
Bohdi looks behind them. The small shower on his head was the beginning of a larger landslide. The tunnel is completely blocked. His heart stops for a moment, and then he sees Beatrice’s snowmobile plowing through a bank of collapsed tunnel. “Madwoman!” Valli screams.
“Silence!” Steve shouts.
Larson’s voice cracks on the radio. “Hard right!” and then, “Hard left.”
The snowmobiles zig and zag in the twisting tunnel. Bohdi hears snow collapsing and instinctively crouches lower. He finds his lips curled again in a snarl, and the metal taste of adrenaline clings to his tongue. The world blurs by, without the sound of plasma fire.
Berry’s voice cracks over the radio. “We outpaced them.”
Larson’s voice sounds over the shared channel. “The tunnel is veering off in different directions.”
“Stick to the cave that follows the stream,” Amy says.
“The stream’s frozen over and covered by snow. Too hard to see,” says Larson.
“All stop,” says Steve.
The snowmobiles draw to a halt. Bohdi looks over Amy’s shoulder. At the front of the pack, Larson is kneeling at the junction of three paths, touching the ground. He goes to the right and says, “Okay, this is the way.”
He swings back onto the snowmobile, and the party starts off again. As they cross the junction, Amy looks at the other tunnels. “I don’t remember these … but it has been about 200 years.”
Bohdi is still coming off his adrenaline high and doesn’t comment. They coast along for only another few moments and then Larson says, “Damn, another fork.”
“All stop,” says Steve.
Again Larson gets off and kneels down to figure out which way the stream goes. Fenrir starts to growl and Amy’s voice cracks on the radio, “Do you notice, the new tunnels almost look like they’ve been dug out? They’re not as smooth as …”
At that moment there is a thunk, and Larson shouts. He scurries back from the fork. Over the radio his voice buzzes. “Someone from the right just shot me with an arrow.”
“Are you alright?” says Berry.
“Yeah, it bounced right off my helmet,” says Larson.
“Yeti,” says Amy.
“Oh, freakin
’ fantastic,” someone says.
There is a whistling noise and several arrows embed themselves in the left side of the wall beyond the fork.
Behind them, shouts echo in Asgardian.
“Oh, the hell with this,” says Larson. Swinging his rifle around, he steps into the fork, drops to one knee, and aims. He fires off several shots and roars rise in the tunnel to the right. Arrows whiz from the left. One hits him squarely in the back, and he sags in his parka.
Gerðr’s voice rings out in the cave. “Robert!”
Larson’s voice buzzes over the radio. “I barely felt it. Body armor protected me fine. Get me some cover here so I can see which way we need to go.”
“Berry and I’ve got you,” Steve says. “Everyone else stay put.” Over Amy’s shoulder, Bohdi sees Steve jump off his own snowmobile, aiming right and Berry aiming left; they start firing their rifles. Roars and screams echo from both sides, and then from behind Bohdi hears the sound of thunder … and then realizes it’s the sound of footsteps on ice.
“Damn it, Odin’s Warriors are in the tunnel behind us!” says Beatrice. “Valli, try to knock them over before they shoot at us.”
Bohdi can hear Valli grumble over the radio about taking orders from an old woman. But a few heartbeats later, he hears wind whistle—but no mighty gale. Valli curses in another language, and then says, “Out of milk.”
“We have to go to the path down the middle!” Larson’s voice buzzes. “I can cover left, Captain.”
“I got the right,” says Berry.
Steve hops on his snowmobile and leads the way as Berry and Larson block the tunnels with their own vehicles and start shooting into the darkness. They move too fast to see down the side tunnels, even through his scope, but Bohdi hears bearlike roars. A moment later, an arrow whizzes in front of his nose and bounces off Amy’s helmet. Amy’s body jerks sideways and the snowmobile careens dangerously with her. Heart stopping, Bohdi throws out an arm to catch Amy and a leg to keep them from tipping over. “Amy!” he shouts.
“Amy!” Beatrice echoes.
“I’m fine!” she says, righting herself and hitting the accelerator. Pulling his arm away, Bohdi feels a snarl rising on his lips, and his fingers are locked tight on his rifle.