Stephanie wasn't sure when it had happened, but she had managed to fall asleep despite all that had been running through her mind. All those worries and thoughts seeped away as she slipped into deep sleep, and suddenly a fog cleared, literally and figuratively.
As the fog receded, she saw a wide chasm, which separated her from something that she somehow knew was important. The fog seemed to be sucked down into the depths, revealing an impossibly tall mountain on the other side. It rose almost perfectly vertically, with jagged, snarling crags of rock jutting out at random intervals and angles. Somewhere near the top it all became deliberately sheer, and a fort was carved out of the peak. It was dark and looked dead, if an enormous lump of carved rock could have ever been alive.
Climbing up the side of the mountain were three...well, they could only described as monsters. Even given the large scale of the mountain, these monsters were unbelievably large. They were mostly humanoid in shape and proportion, though their arms were longer than a normal human’s and they happened to be on fire. Beneath the flames they appeared to be made of some charred, petrified wood. The lead monster was having a hard time climbing because it kept obliterating the boulders and crags that it found for hand and footholds.
Standing on the shoulder of the lead beast was a dark figure, protected from the flames by a shimmering globe of energy. He was tall and pale with inky tattoos that writhed beneath the skin of his bald head. The dark figure was screaming something that Stephanie couldn't quite make out. She couldn't tell if it was muffled by the distance or if it was a different language all together. The tattoos on his scalp seemed to slither down the back of his neck and disappear underneath the long, flowing black robes. Moments later, the tattoos reappeared on his hands and seemed to swarm around his fingertips. He screamed again, his voice amplified unnaturally, and this time clearly speaking another language. Blue light pooled at the end of each hand and grew into brilliantly bright balls of energy that he then threw toward the fortress at the top of the mountain.
The balls of light moved up, seemingly in slow motion, and then slammed into a minaret at the nearest corner of the fort. There was a thunderous crash, and then the stone cracked and the fortification sheared away. It rained down on the man and the flaming giants. The pieces that should have hit him bounced off a shield of blue energy. When pieces hit the lead giant, they merely shattered and fell further below, leaving the giant completely unscathed.
A muscular figure stepped to the edge of the hole and surveyed the situation. In the figure’s hand was a large war hammer that looked like it should have been far too heavy to wield. The figure raised the hammer high above him, shouting, and a bolt of lightning shot down and hit it. Then he reared back and tossed the hammer down. It hit one of the secondary giants on the shoulder, and there was a bright light on impact. As the light faded, Stephanie could see one of the giant’s arms falling to the ground while the hammer boomeranged around and returned to its owner.
Stephanie watched the unfolding battle from her oddly clear and precise vantage at the edge of the chasm. The giants made steady progress as the dark figure continued to throw balls of energy up and the hammer-wielding figure threw his hammer down. Stephanie didn't notice until there was a slight lull in the fighting that her grandmother was standing just a few paces away. Once Grams had her attention, she pointed over the chasm to a single, impossibly large oak tree that grew out of a crack in the rocks near the base of the mountain.
The tree had a large hollow in its broad trunk, and two pairs of eyes stared out of that crack at Stephanie. With the kind of certainty that only comes in dreams, she knew that one of those pairs of eyes were her own. Then there was a flash so bright that it hurt her head, followed by a rumbling that made her lose her balance, and she began sliding toward the edge of the chasm. As she began to fall, she startled awake, finding herself still in the SUV lying against Marcus, his arm around her protectively. She looked up to see him staring down at her, concern in his eyes.
“You were having a nightmare,” he said.
She just nodded; she wasn't sure it was a dream worth explaining. It could have meant anything—or nothing. She leaned in closer to him and tried to relax, though didn’t allow herself to go back to sleep.
They drove for another hour or so down what Magnuson called the Sprengisandur highland road before they came to a small village just north of the Vatnsfell Power Station. It was comprised of a gas station, some small houses, and the god-awful stench of something rotting.
“What is that?” asked Leviticus.
“Hakarl,” said Magnus. “It's fermented shark. Icelandic delicacy. There's a ranch a few miles down the road from here that cures it.”
“A few miles? God, I'd hate to live next to them,” said Leviticus.
Mestoph looked at everyone, their noses curled and their faces scrunched at the offensive smelled, and shrugged. “I can't smell anything,” he said.
“Too much fire and brimstone,” said Sir Regi.
Stephanie and Leviticus shot Sir Regi a glance that could've killed, to which he just shrugged in an odd doggy fashion. Father Mike was also looking at Sir Regi, but they hoped it was just the residual shock at the revelation of a talking dog. The priest glanced at everyone else as he walked past them to go inside the gas station to check for a bathroom. Leviticus gave the dog a little kick, to which he yelped disproportionately loud, hopped out of the SUV and ambled to the rear with a dejected air about him. Then he pissed on one of the tires.
Magnus and Fenrir went into the gas station to check out their food selection and pay for gas. When they were out of earshot, Marcus, Stephanie, Leviticus, and Mestoph all looked at each other and spoke in near unison.
“We've got to get rid of Father Mike.”
“I don't trust him,” said Marcus, somewhat defensively.
“No. No. Neither do I,” added Mestoph.
“I think he knows more than he's letting on. He wasn't as surprised as he should've been about anything that has happened so far,” said Marcus.
The others looked a bit confused, since that wasn't the angle they were thinking. They were more afraid of him finding out too much, not already knowing too much. Marcus continued, explaining that throughout the events of the last two days, the Father had been remarkably calm and far too interested in them even before they crashed.
“What do you mean before the crash?” asked Stephanie.
“He changed seats to be directly behind after we took off. He saw the RPG at the same time you did, and while you tried to warn everyone, he just sat there calm as a Hindu cow. He immediately gravitated toward us after the crash. And now he's insinuated himself into our group and is tagging along with us despite not having any logical reason to do so.”
“Are you sure? You have to be absolutely sure,” said Mestoph, like he was talk to a child whom he suspected was exaggerating the truth.
“Actually, now that you mention it, I saw him changing seats too,” said Sir Regi. “I just thought he wanted a window seat. But Marcus is right, he was cool as a fucking cucumber the whole time. Like he knew he was going to make it.”
“I never saw him praying or anything during the crash,” said Stephanie.
“Shit,” said Mestoph.
“Shit, what?” asked Stephanie.
“He's FI,” said Leviticus. Mestoph nodded in agreement.
“Who's FI?” asked Father Mike, who had snuck up on them from the other side of the SUV. He had a gun with a silencer held in close to his body that was pointed at the group in general. Mestoph made to grab for the .40 he had stashed in the back of his waistband but stopped when Father Mike raised the gun to a steady, two-handed stance and aimed directly at him.
“Uh-uh, my fiery friend,” he said. Father Mike moved wide around the group until he was behind Mestoph. “Pull that thing out and then drop it. Then kick it behind you,” said Father Mike.
Mestoph looked behind him to see if he could possibly kick Father Mike, or at least kick up a face full of dirt, but the padre had given the Demon a wide berth. Resigned to the fact that now was not the time to act, he slowly pulled the gun from his waistband of his pants and let it fall to the ground. Mestoph had a brief bullshit hope that it would fall, go off, and take out Father Mike with an increasingly implausible series of ricochets that would land the bullet straight between his eyes.
The gun fell with a thud and a clatter but a distinct lack of magic bullet firing. He kicked the gun backwards as hard as he could. The groan from Father Mike told him that he had succeeded in sliding it underneath the SUV. Mestoph was rewarded with a quick, but mostly harmless, smack to the back of the head.
“Smartass,” said Father Mike.
He then moved behind Leviticus, sticking the gun roughly into the small of the Angel’s back, and then patted him down through his robes but found nothing. He didn’t bother searching the others, confident that they would have tried to make a move if they were armed. He nodded to himself and smiled.
“All right everyone, about face and not a word until our Viking friends join us. I’d hate it if you spoiled the surprise for them,” said Father Mike.
Everyone looked to Mestoph, who nodded and then slowly turned to face Father Mike and the SUV. Before they fully turned, Stephanie tried to catch Mestoph and Leviticus’s attention by discretely pointing at herself and then making her thumb and index finger like a gun, going so far as to pull the imaginary trigger of her imaginary gun. Mestoph’s eyes widened briefly and he mouthed “You?” to which Stephanie nodded. She had never given the gun back that Mestoph had given her during her watch and still had it in her coat pocket, which she patted to show him where it was. He quickly mouthed “Wait,” and they all turned to face the smiling padre.
“What do you want?” asked Mestoph.
A smile that had previously been warm and reassuring now took a sinister turn as it spread across the Father’s face. “I want to know what you two are up to,” he said. He waved the gun back and forth at Mestoph and Leviticus, directing the question at them.
“Us? We're just saving humanity,” said Leviticus.
Father Mike burst out laughing, though never took his eyes off his captives.
“You two? No, you've never done anything for anyone but yourselves. And from what I've heard, you're not even very good at that.”
Marcus pushed past Mestoph and Leviticus and stood at the front of the group. “They've saved our lives several times, so if you have a problem with them, you have a problem with us.”
The smile on Father Mike's face stayed plastered there. “Saved your lives? It's their fault your lives are in danger to begin with. You two,” he said, now pointing the gun at Marcus and Stephanie, “don't even know the kind of people you're keeping company with. That one right there,” he continued, gesturing at Mestoph, “is a damned—”
A loud, cracking report interrupted Father Mike midsentence, and the smile slowly faded from his face. His pupils widened as he looked down at his chest where blood, human blood, was flowering from a bullet wound. He looked up and saw Stephanie standing with a gun pointed at him, the barrel smoking still. Father Mike coughed, blood coming out in faint specks, and then the cough turned to choking as he fell to the ground.
“Problem solved,” said Stephanie as she dropped the gun, shaking visibly. “Now let's get the Hell out of here.”
Magnus and Fenrir ran from the gas station, panic on their faces. They ran up to the group but stopped short when they saw the body of Father Mike lying on the ground, twitching and gasping. The two Vikings just stood there, mouths agape.
Father Mike suddenly jerked upright in a loud, explosive cough. A glob of squashed metal flew from his mouth, and the bullet that had just killed him fell to the asphalt. He did one of those kung-fu undulations that sent him springing to his feet. At the same time, he grabbed the gun that Stephanie had dropped so that he now held a weapon in each hand. He pointed one at the main group and the other at the two Vikings. Everyone took an involuntary step back.
“Did you know they could do that?” asked Leviticus.
Mestoph just shrugged.
“Now climb into the car; we’re finishing our trip. Stephanie, you’re driving. I’m calling shotgun. Any more funny shit, and I plug little missy here,” said Father Mike as he kept one gun on Stephanie and motioned the others into the SUV with the other.
“Keys?” asked Father Mike.
Magnus reached into his pocket, which made Father Mike give him a stern look of warning, and slowly extended his hand toward the padre. At the last moment, Magnus tossed the keys over Father Mike’s head. It didn’t have the desired effect. No doubt he had expected the Father to automatically grab at the keys or turn to follow them, but instead he pulled the trigger, shooting Magnus in the shoulder. The Viking screamed in pain.
By now the gunshots had finally gotten the attention of the gas station clerk. The short, pudgy man waddled out of the store with an indignant look and began shouting in Icelandic. Father Mike turned sideways so he could point one of his guns toward the attendant while keeping the other on his hostages. He fired a round. It missed the attendant by several feet, but shattered a window and sent the appropriate message. The clerk dropped, covering his head with his hands, and duck-waddled back inside the store.
“Now come out here and get those fucking keys and hand them to me properly,” Father Mike said calmly.
Magnus looked at Father Mike in disbelief for a moment and then looked at the others. They all motioned their heads and mouthed words along the lines that he should do what the crazy bastard told him to. Magnus sighed and climbed back out of the SUV, holding his shoulder and keeping his useless arm close to his chest. It wasn’t bleeding as much as he would have expected, but it hurt like Hell nonetheless. He began to reach down with his good arm when Father Mike glanced down and tutted.
Magnus looked up at him, confused.
“The other hand. The other hand,” said the priest.
Magnus reached down, obediently using the arm in which he had been shot. Leaning over sent pains shooting up and down his arm and into his neck. Despite the intense pain he managed to keep from screaming or crying, but the pain was evident in his face. He handed the keys gently to Father Mike, who took them with equal gentleness.
“Good dog. Now back in the truck,” he said.
Magnus walked back to the SUV, clearly angry and in pain, but what struck Mestoph was the way he cowered and wouldn’t look anyone else in the eye. He wasn’t going to be putting up a fight against Father Mike; the priest might as well have shot him in the head.
“Alright now kids, let’s get back on the road. The sooner we leave, the sooner all this will be over. You don’t want me to have to stop this car to discipline anyone,” said Father Mike.
They drove on down the highland road towards the center of the storm. The closer they got, the worse the rain got, which meant the already rudimentary road got worse as well. The failing light made the pentagram at the center of the storm look even more eerie as its darkness seemed to glow in the dark. Stephanie slowed down, squinting through the sheets of rain.
“We won’t make it at all if we keep going like this,” she said.
“Floor it, missy,” said Father Mike, poking her in the ribs with the barrel of the gun.
“I think we should stop,” said Marcus.
“We’ll stop when we get there and not before,” said Father Mike.
“No, you don’t under—”
Father Mike pressed the other gun against Marcus’s forehead.
“I said we’ll stop when we get there,” said Father Mike, a dangerous edge coming into his voice.
Marcus remained calm as the gun dug into his skin, not shaking, sweating, or breathing heavily. Instead he very slowly raised his hand and pointed at the windshield. Up ahead at a slight bend in the road there was a roadblock of three vehicles sitting abreast with their headlights shining in their direction. Stephanie slammed on the brakes. As they slid to a halt, a figure climbed out of the middle vehicle and walked to the front, standing there patiently.
“What do you want me to do?” asked Stephanie.
Father Mike looked out to the roadblock and then back at his little group of hostages. He repeated this process several times.
“Well?” asked Stephanie.
“Give me a minute to think, damn it.”
Father Mike briefly lifted the gun he had pointed at Stephanie and took steady aim. She tensed and started to cry. He let the gun fall back to his lap again, but then flexed to aim once more. Before he could make a decision, Stephanie slammed her foot on the gas. It was the moment everyone had been waiting for. Marcus grabbed the wrist of the arm with the gun pointed at him, using both hands to push Father Mike’s hand up to the ceiling of the SUV. At the same time Leviticus, who had been sitting directly behind Father Mike, grabbed Father Mike’s right arm. The gun went off and shot a hole through the windshield, directly at the middle vehicle of the roadblock. It was hard to tell if the person standing in front of the truck actually took the bullet or just ducked at the sound of gunfire, but either way he dropped to the ground.
“Seatbelts!” Stephanie shouted above the noise of the jostling SUV, gunfire, and struggling passengers. She kept her foot on the gas, intending to ram the roadblock. Another figure climbed out of the truck at the center of the roadblock, hoisting something on his shoulder. The stance and silhouette was all too familiar to all of them—it was another RPG. Leviticus tried to shake the gun out of Father Mike’s hand, which caused another shot to go off. The shot was high and wide, but it startled the man with the RPG and he fired slightly prematurely.
The next seconds went by in slow motion. Everyone stopped struggling as the SUV sped toward the roadblock and the RPG flew toward the SUV. Its familiar, erratic trajectory teetered and spiraled slowly across the distance between them. It flew low, getting lower in the painfully slow seconds that passed like honey. Finally the RPG struck just a few feet in front of them. The explosion rocked the SUV and made a deep crater. They had so much speed at that point that instead of careening headfirst into the hole, the SUV slammed into the rim and then flipped. The first spin sent the tail end of the SUV onto the ground, which then catapulted them high into the air.
The SUV soared for a moment, but the front-heaviness caused it to angle down, and they were looking at the ground coming directly at them through the windshield. Staring up at them, confused and terrified, were the two rebels who had been standing in front of the truck, one still holding the empty rocket launcher on his shoulder. The SUV smashed down deep into the earth, causing all the airbags in the vehicle to inflate simultaneously, and flipped over a half turn, top down onto the center truck. At last, it slid back down to the ground, nose first.
Then there was stillness, and silence.