It was exquisite beyond belief, a feeling of raw potent power such as he had imagined only in his wildest fantasies. He attributed it to one source. Holding Mjolnir aloft, he gazed at the gray sky and said with fiery passion, “Lord Thor, I thank you!”
The bang of a rifle brought Soren back to the here and now. There was that one foe yet to deal with.
The last invader was at the near corner of A Block. He was firing at the west wall, but he was facing B Block.
It would be impossible for Soren to reach him unseen. He pondered what to do. He could try the shotgun, but he wasn’t sure he could hit him. He needed to get closer. But how? He glanced behind him at the man he had just laid low, and he grinned. Bending, he dragged the body close to the corner and positioned it so that only part of a shoulder and one arm showed. Then, squatting with his back to the wall, he covered his mouth with his left hand to muffle the sound and let out with a long, loud groan. He waited, then repeated it. He waited some more, and taking a chance, he mouthed a muffled, “Help me!” Then he jiggled the arm that stuck past the corner, careful not to show his own hand when he did it.
A rifle spanged once, twice, three times, and feet thudded in swift cadence, drawing closer.
The rifleman came flying around the corner. He was looking down at the body. “Frank? Where were you hit?”
Soren was ready. He swept Mjolnir up and around and caught the man full in the face. The impact lifted the invader off his feet and stretched him out flat on his back with his life’s blood gushing from his shattered mouth and nose and seeping from his eye sockets. The man gasped and gulped and struggled for breath, his fingers clawing for the rifle he had dropped.
“In Thor’s name,” Soren said, and brought Mjolnir crashing down.
He stared at his handiwork, then stepped back and shook the bloody hammer to rid it of its gore.
No more shots pealed. No shouts rose.
Soren peered around the bunker. He saw no other riflemen but he needed to be sure. He let several minutes go by. When nothing happened, he cupped his hand to his mouth. “Alf! Slayne! Are you all right?”
Up on the rampart, Patrick Slayne swore. “Look out! Keep quiet!
There are at least three of them and they have rifles!”
“There were four.”
Slayne took this to mean Anderson had killed one. “Stay down, damn it! I don’t want you shot!”
“There is no one left.” Soren stepped from behind the Block. “It’s safe to come down if you want.”
Risking a quick look, Slayne saw the big construction worker standing in the open, holding his hammer.
“They’re all dead,” Soren said.
Slayne slowly rose partway. Could it be? he wondered. When he didn’t draw lead, he stood fully erect. “They’re dead, you say?”
Soren nodded.
Still not convinced, Slayne descended the stairs. He held the MP5
ready, swinging right and left, alert for movement.
Soren stayed where he was and motioned. “Back there are two of them.”
“Two?” Slayne moved past and drew up short at the sight of the prone forms. He saw their brains leaking out and noticed the blood on the hammer. “Sweet Jesus.”
Soren held Mjolnir high in the air. “Odin has protected and delivered us.”
“You don’t believe that?”
“I follow the Ancient Way, Mr. Slayne. The Way of the Elder Gods.
I worship Odin. I revere Thor. If you understand nothing else about me, understand that.” Soren paused. “Wait? Where’s Alf?” He looked toward the west wall.
“Mr. Richardson didn’t make it, I’m afraid.” “A shame. From what I saw this past month, he was a decent man.”
“Mourn him when we bury him. Now we need to collect these bodies and their hardware and organize a burial detail.”
Soren nudged one of them. “Who were they? Why did they try to kill us?”
“You’d have to ask them.”
“It makes no sense. Why did they sneak in here and take potshots at us when they could just as easily have waited outside the walls until we saw them and then ask to be admitted?”
“I suspect they were scavengers, looking for whatever they could steal. They were probably trying to figure out how to get into the bunkers when we came out and caught them by surprise.”
Voices and a commotion caused them to turn. Kurt Carpenter and five others were hurrying toward them from A Block. All except Carpenter were armed with rifles or shotguns.
“Sorry it took us so long, Patrick. The bunkers are soundproof, as you well know. If I hadn’t told one of the techs to switch on an outside audio pickup, we wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. We heard the shots and had to get guns and load them and—;”
Slayne placed a hand on Carpenter’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Kurt.
We’ll rig cameras out here so from now on when we’re in the bunkers we can see as well as hear.”
Carpenter gazed about them. “I don’t see Mr. Richardson.”
Slayne gave an account of the clash. He stressed that Soren had had more to do with the outcome than he did.
“I’m extremely sorry to hear about Mr. Richardson. As for you, Mr.
Anderson, excellent work. We must protect our own at all costs.”
Carpenter gave instructions to two of the others to bring shovels and picks. Then he turned back to Slayne. “A grappling hook, you say?
That’s how they got in?
“Not exactly a common household item, is it? And not something a person carries around with them unless they intend to use it.”
Carpenter’s brow furrowed. “So they had to have known the compound was here.”
“No mystery there. You
