Valhalla

by Newton Thornburg

  Eddie did not believe her. Frowning and grinning, he looked at Stone for clarification. But Eve, next to him, apparently knew better, or at least knew Stone better. She looked bleakly angry, as if she had expected something like this.

  “Well?” Eddie said to Stone. “Tell us it ain’t so.”

  “Yeah, do that,” Tocco put in.

  “It’s an oversimplification,” Stone said. “I just want to stay in the area awhile and see if things change up there. If they do, I might want to try to help the junkman’s girls. They’re very young.”

  “Not anymore, they’re not,” Annabelle said.

  Eve sighed and turned to Eddie. “Well, I guess maybe we did come to the wrong place. Do you want to go back?”

  “To what?” Eddie asked.

  “The air over there isn’t so rarefied. People at least know the name of the game is survival, not self-indulgence.” Eve looked straight at Stone now, her eyes bruised with reproach. “Not some ridiculous notion of duty and honor.”

  “Oh, come on,” Tocco chided her. “You’re being too hard on the boy. He can’t help it if he’s better than the rest of us.”

  Stone had had enough. “You can all go to hell,” he said. “You think it’s gonna be a picnic out on the road this time of year, you’re welcome to find out. Me, I’m gonna do just what you suggest, Eve. I’m gonna survive—right here. And when I can do more, I’ll do that too.”

  “You’re serious, then,” Eddie said.

  “Bet on it.”

  As Stone gathered up his pots and pans, preparing to wash them in the lake, Tocco asked Eddie about the rifle he had brought with him, a semiautomatic twenty-two.

  “You got ammo for it?”

  “Originally, no,” Eddie told him. “But I found a box of shells in the hardware store last night.”

  “That’s good. Maybe you two can travel with me and Annabelle, then. What do you say?”

  Eddie shrugged. “What about Jag?”

  “What about him?”

  The little man glanced at Eve, but she gave him nothing. “Well, I think he expects to stay with us,” he said.

  “Fuck him,” Tocco sneered. “I still owe that bastard.”

  “Well, we can’t just leave him here, can we?”

  “Why not?” Annabelle asked. “He’d have Stone. And they both do have so much in common. They’d make such a lovely couple.”

  Eve suddenly looked up at Tocco. “Sure, we’ll go with you,” she said. “What’s to hold us here?”

  Again Eddie asked about Jagger. And this time Eve told him.

  “What he does is his business, not ours.”

  Eddie was nodding, trying to accept this. He seemed puzzled, and somehow lost. “Yeah. Okay,” he said. “But just one thing—we’re pretty beat and cold. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to wait a day and warm up, eat our fill. Hey, is there any more meat on those cows?”

  Kneeling at the lakeside, washing a pot, Stone did not answer.

  He worked throughout the afternoon getting things ready at the new lakefront cabin he had chosen, up the shore from the Point. It was a dilapidated A-frame with a free-standing “modernistic” fireplace and a broken glass front that offered a view whose southerly extremity included both the Point and Valhalla. He had expected the others just to stand by and watch him, but surprisingly they pitched in to help almost as if they planned on staying there themselves. While he raided the lodge for whatever he could use—any overlooked food, cooking utensils, blankets, pillows, buckets—Eddie and Tocco carried armloads of firewood from the stack outside the lodge to the cabin. At the same time, Annabelle and Eve swept the place out and tried to cover the areas of broken glass with boards and old pieces of cardboard.

  Later, while Tocco and Eddie brought some buckets of ear corn to the A-frame, Stone went back to the cow carcasses and salvaged what meat he could, including the animals’ tongues. He was surprised to discover that in his absence the wild dogs had been more interested in the half-burned body of the youth Rich Kelleher had shot than they were in the cows. But he accepted this, took what breaks he could get. And when he returned to the cabin, he found that the others had brought three mattresses down from the lodge, evidently planning to be as comfortable as possible for the one night they were staying on.

  Eddie said that Jagger had “cussed” them out for waking him. “But he’s back asleep now,” he reported. “Clear conscience, I guess.”

  “Fuck him,” Tocco said, the malediction evidently covering all his feelings toward Jagger.

  Putting the mattresses into place, Annabelle asked Stone if that would be all. “Perhaps sir would like some wine from the cellars of Valhalla,” she went on. “Say, a presumptuous little Cabernet?”

  Stone forced a smile. He was thinking of the two guns he still had to get. He decided that it would be better to wait until he was alone.

  “No, that’ll be all,” he said. “You’re excused.”

  Annabelle bowed. “Merci beaucoup.”

  That was about the only attempt at levity during the whole long industrious afternoon. Stone built a fire in the potbellied fireplace while Eddie kept hauling in buckets of water and throwing them down the bathroom stool, trying to make it function properly. Eve, still wearing one of her safari outfits, stretched out on a mattress to rest. And Stone found his gaze returning over and over to the bewitching swell of her hips and buttocks in the tight khaki pants. Even as he stared into the burgeoning fire, it was her body he saw, his hands slowly pulling the khaki pants down off her hips until it was all there for him, the firm sleek cheeks open to his mouth, open to the passing of his cock, the piercing of her, the possession. Just the thought of it made him hard, like a teenager. And he silently raged against the times he lived in, these days of rape instead of love.

  Outside he saw Tocco and Annabelle sitting together amid the ruins of the cabin’s pier, which apparently had been washed up on the shore a long time before. The two of them were earnestly discussing some matter. And then suddenly they both looked up. Annabelle got to her feet and hurried to the shore, to peer in the direction of Valhalla. As Tocco did the same, Stone realized what the interruption was, hearing it now himself over the roar of the fire.

  “There’s shooting,” he said to Eddie. “Get your gun and come on.”

  Eve had heard it too and was already getting up from the mattress. With Stone leading, carrying his pistol and binoculars, the three of them ran out of the cabin and joined Tocco and Annabelle. Looking down the shore, toward Valhalla, Stone could make out figures scurrying from the buildings toward the front gate. Others were already on the road, starting down. One of them was carrying another person, wounded or dead, over his shoulder. Above them, on the parapet, two Mau Mau were shooting up into the air, as if they were driving cattle. And indeed, the fleeing Mau Mau did have the look of driven livestock, just in the way they moved down the winding road, hurrying, heads down, panic and fear in every step on their flight. And they appeared to be leaving without a possession: no guns, no backpacks, nothing. Before they hit the first turn, two of their former comrades had dragged a body out to the parapet and now they pitched it over the side. It struck the rocks below and bounced outward, landing in the middle of the road. Those taking flight parted like water around it and kept on going.

  Watching through his binoculars, Stone made a careful count of them. Including the two bodies, they were ten in all, which meant that there could not have been more than eight Mau Mau who were staying, undoubtedly the General and his favored few.

  “What’s it mean?” Eve asked. “What’s going on?”

  Tocco thought he had the answer. “A fight for power. The ones leaving are the losers.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Stone said. “Could be the leaders just decided to make the goodies up there last longer by driving out half their people.”

  Whatever the reason, Stone knew that this was no time to discuss it. He told Eve to go back to the cabin and douse the fire with ashes. He told Tocco
and Annabelle to stay where they were and keep an eye on Valhalla. He and Eddie meanwhile would cut over to the road and watch for the fleeing Mau Mau.

  “They can go any one of three directions,” he said. “And if this is the one they choose, we might as well know it. We might as well be ready for them.”

  “Oh God,” Annabelle sighed. “I knew we should’ve left today.”

  Stone tried to reassure her. “They don’t look armed. We’ll be all right.”

  “Oh sure,” she said.

  Then Stone was gone, hurrying with Eddie at his side through the woods that lay between the lakeshore and the blacktop. Stone knew exactly where there was a jog in the blacktop, a curve moving away from the lake, and he headed for that point. There, he and Eddie could stay back in the trees, hidden from view, and still be able to see whoever was coming up the road.

  When they reached the curve Eddie sagged panting onto a stump and mopped at his forehead with his sleeve. “Jesus, I’m useless when I’m scared,” he said. “I can hardly breathe.”

  Stone knew the feeling but he was already occupied with his binoculars. Because of the trees along the road he could not see Valhalla itself, only its base and the shallow channel separating it from the mainland. And he was not surprised to see the Mau Mau already congregating there. The channel was probably a foot deep and ten degrees above freezing, and the half-dozen rocks sticking out of the water were too few and too far apart. The Mau Mau were going to have to get wet.

  And that was exactly what they did. One by one, Stone watched them step down into the water and wade across to the other side. Incredibly, not one of them took off his boots or rolled up his pants. They just strode through the water and kept on going, as if they had never heard of frostbite or gangrene. And the parapet was not above them at that point; they had nothing to fear from Valhalla. Nevertheless they took no precautions, wasted no time. Stone noticed that the one who had been carrying a body up above now was free of it.

  “Well, which way they going?” Eddie asked. He still had not moved off the stump, probably dreading what he would see.

  Stone did not answer for a few moments, not until he was sure. “Remember that road Smiley brought us here on? Well, that’s the one they’re taking—away from here.”

  Eddie jumped up and took the binoculars. “You mean it? And that’s all you can say?”

  “Well, I’m smiling,” Stone said. And he was.

  “Christ, the least you could do is cheer! Like this!” He let loose with a hooray that sounded like any solitary cheer, lonely and inadequate.

  “I just want to be sure they keep moving in that direction,” Stone said.

  “Don’t worry, they will.” Eddie was still staring through the binoculars. “Jesus, half of ’em are white—you notice that?”

  “Yeah, white or Chicano. You can’t tell from here. And three of them are girls.”

  Eddie gave the binoculars back to him. “Well, now you can cheer. They’re still going up that road.”

  “Hip hip hooray,” Stone said. He took another look.

  Eddie was laughing. “You’re a cold fucking fish, Stone. Can’t imagine what Eve sees in you.”

  Stone lowered the glasses, satisfied now. “I wasn’t aware she saw anything.”

  “My mistake.” Eddie picked up his rifle. “Better go spread the good news.”

  “Yeah, go ahead. I’ve got an errand to run. You remember that gun I stashed?”

  “You think it’s still there?”

  “I plan to find out.”

  Stone found the rifle exactly where he had left it, wedged into the termite-ridden heart of the dead tree. The gun had remained dry there and appeared to be in good condition. He went back to the Point then and searched under the charred porch timbers of his old cabin until he found Kelleher’s forty-five automatic. Formerly silverplated, it was a blackened thing now, covered with soot and wood ash. Stone went over to the Kellehers’ motor home and dug through the litter there until he finally came up with what he was after, a full box of forty-five shells, plus two extra clips. He then drained a can of motor oil out of one of the cars and took everything down the shore to the new cabin, where he proceeded to clean and ready all the weapons except the Sten gun, which Tocco declined to part with, saying it was already clean enough for his purposes.

  Jagger meanwhile had managed to get out of bed in the lodge and find his way to the A-frame. His long sleep seemed to have left him just as sullen and insular as before, and he continued to cultivate an almost monastic silence, even when Tocco not unexpectedly began to bait him.

  “Really am surprised to see you back here, Bjorn. Wasn’t there anything worth absconding with up at the lodge?” As Jagger ignored this, Tocco went blithely on. “Now, don’t you fret, golden boy. One of these days the beautiful people are gonna be back in power and it’ll be strictly vodka tonics and tennis from then on. People like me, we’ll be your ball boys.”

  “Aw, why not leave him alone?” Eddie said, and got Tocco’s finger for his trouble.

  For supper, the women had cooked some more of the beef and three of the dozen or so potatoes Stone had found earlier in the root cellar of the lodge. While they ate, Annabelle for some reason picked up the torch from Tocco, only shifting the sarcasm onto Stone now.

  “That arsenal you were cleaning, Walter—what’re you gonna do with it? You gonna take Valhalla all by yourself?”

  “Could be,” he said.

  “Sort of Big Bwana against the savages, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I do wish we could be here to see it. Just sit out there on the rocks with a pair of binoculars and watch you roll right over them.”

  Stone did not know what to make of her attitude toward him. He decided to go along with it. “Just like I wish I could be there to see you on the road,” he said. “Say, waking up in the morning in a snowbank. That ought to be fun.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Eddie moaned. “I’m already getting sick.”

  “Well, think about it—the most you can hope for along the way is something exactly like this. Shelter, firewood, water, and food—all the horse corn you can eat.”

  “I don’t follow you,” Eddie said. “You recommending this or the road?”

  “Neither.”

  “Of course not,” Annabelle explained. “For him it’s Valhalla. Vengeance and virgins. Former virgins.”

  Stone looked at her, still hoping to find some reason for her hostility. But her mocking expression offered nothing. He turned to Tocco.

  “You know, it’s funny,” he said. “You used to be our biggest hawk on Valhalla.”

  “Well, sure, when we had twenty people and they had five or six. I don’t mind a little fighting when the odds are in your favor. But suicide, that’s another matter.”

  “You’d rather live, huh?”

  Tocco laughed. “You could say that, yeah.”

  “And that’s what we’re doing here now? We’re living? Tomorrow the meat plays out and the vegetables the day after that. Then it’s horse corn and water. But that’s living, huh?”

  “No, it ain’t. Which is why we’re gonna hit the road. Why we’re gonna find something better.”

  “If it’s better,” Stone said, “you’re gonna have to take it. You’re gonna have to fight for it, just like up at the junkman’s.”

  Tocco looked at the others and shook his head. “What is it with this character, anyway?”

  “Don’t ask me,” Eddie said.

  As they finished eating, Stone kept the conversation on Valhalla, explaining to the five of them exactly what it was he wanted to do, how they would do it, and why they should do it. He said that the break-up of the Mau Mau did not mean there was a shortage of food up there, but rather the opposite. The General must have made a count of his bounty and decided that there was just too much to share, enough probably for the whole winter—if he had half as many people. So he had driven out the less favored and now was going to settl
e down to a long winter’s orgy of food and drink and sex.

  There were only seven or eight Mau Mau there now, Stone said, and he believed that most of them would be drunk every night until the liquor ran out. So they could be overrun, beaten in a commando-style raid in which the attacking party—the six of them—would gain access to the buildings and go from room to room, rounding them up or killing them.

  “And then it would all be ours to defend,” he said. “Food, lights, booze, heat, hot water—it would be ours for the winter. And by summer, who knows? Maybe that man on horseback will come. Maybe we’ll have order again. And we will have survived.”

  He looked from one of them to the other, hoping this last thought would take hold and rout their fears. Instead he saw much the same old look in all their faces, a look that was at once puzzled, patronizing, and hostile. In Eve, however, it was also sardonic.

  “You mention killing,” she said. “Does that come a little easier for you now than it used to?”

  Stone ignored the touch of derision in her voice. “A fair question,” he conceded. “And the answer is yes. I’ve been taking lessons lately.”

  “I see.” She smiled dubiously. “But that still leaves the problem of morality. I mean, if you kill someone in order to take what he has—isn’t that murder?”

  “No, it’s war.”

  “I see. And we’re on one side and the Mau Mau are on the other?”

  Now it was Stone’s turn to smile. “You hadn’t noticed?”

  “Because they’re black, they’re the enemy, is that it?”

  Stone said nothing for a few moments, even though he realized that he suddenly had the answer, the right answer, to that most incendiary of questions. He felt an enormous sense of relief. “No,” he said. “They’re the enemy despite their being black.”

  The answer failed to impress Eve. “But aren’t they just trying to survive, the same as we are?”