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KOIL rides shotgun for the NAA
Our kickass President is sticking it to those bleeding heart liberals by hugely increasing spending on the military, in particular his own special forces: the Jötun. The president has siphoned off funds from all those pointless green energy initiatives to ramp up investment in patriotic arms manufacturers, supporting jobs for the boys back home – rather than handing over hard-earned American taxpayers money to slitty-eyed gooks or shitskins. His plans have received the blessing of the National Arms Association. A spokesman said: ‘It’s about time a president got our back. We’re tired of being pussy-whipped by those faggot cowards. We need a strong president and a strong country in these dangerous times. Americans have a God-given right to defend themselves. It’s in the Constitution.’ One of the beneficiaries of this investment is the Bible-belt based arms company, Mistletoe. Their CEO, Donny Swoop, said: ‘We praise the Good Lord for this windfall. Every one of our bullets comes with a special blessing from Mistletoe’s very own resident Minister, and a little, deadly message for every enemy of God’s Own Country. As our motto goes: “We Aim To Please”.’ Mistletoe bullets have become the best-selling brand, with WalMart reporting record sales, and with Amazing, the world’s largest online retailer, providing rapidrone delivery on all weaponry, since the legislation prohibiting the sale of firearms has been lifted by the Koil Administration, no patriotic citizen need to run out of ammo. When you’ve emptied your clip into a crowd of deviants you know what to do. Just ‘Ask Santa’ via your Nippletm.
Chapter 12: William Burroughs
‘So, what do you make of that, hey Red?’ asked Blitzen as they wrestled with the tent in the wind. They were striking camp and the beach was bristling with activity, heightened by the strong winds blowing, and waves thundering onto the sands.
‘The Gods got woke!’ joked Dash. ‘Woah! Nearly took off there!’
They all leapt on top of the fly sheet before it was whipped away. Laughing, they started to roll it inwards, as Eddy tried to put his thoughts in order. In truth he didn’t know what to make of it. It all seemed so surreal. And yet he’d experienced that burst of light when Rig had blown the horn; and more intimately than that, in making love with Fenja he had tasted of that ambrosia himself. He had seen her effect the gas pumps, blast out icy air, look at him with those eyes… She was a goddess to him, whether divine or not. Sadly, he’d seen little of her since the ‘wake up call’ as everyone was calling it. The committee had a lot to attend to, not least their remembered roles, as Gods of the Norse. Being a God must be very busy, thought Eddy.
‘Hey, spaceman! Ground control here!’
‘Oh, sorry. Miles away. Yeah, it’s something, ain’t it? I always thought that lot had something about them, y’know?’
‘Yeah, B.O.!’ joked Dash.
‘But bikers, even larger-than-life ones, to old Viking gods … it’s a bit of a leap, isn’t it?’
‘But look around you, Red. Does this look normal to you?’ argued Blitzen, indicating the wild weather. ‘We live in crazy times. Who knows what is possible anymore? Everything is up in the air! Watch out!’
They all ducked as a gazebo careered by, chased by some red-faced bikers.
‘You’re right. And whatever the truth of it, I think we all need to tap into the best of ourselves to survive this. We all need to be woke.’
‘I need coffee, that’s for sure!’ quipped Dash.
With relief, they managed to squeeze the tent into its bag and zip it closed, just about. They loaded it on the bike trailer, and bungeed it secure.
‘Locked and loaded,’ said Blitzen. ‘Let’s see if there’s any caffeine to be had in the mess tent, before that blows away too!’
As the three friends approached the mess tent they could see something was going on. A crowd of bikers, who should have been sorting out their kit, had gathered round. Every now and then a cheer would go up.
‘The coffee must be good this morning!’ said Dash. ‘Perhaps they’re offering free donuts?’ His eyes lit up at the prospect.
When they finally pushed close enough to see, it wasn’t what Eddy had expected. The Hammer was showing off her reawakened strength, lifting up the industrial oven single-handedly, with two bikers dangling off either end, as the onlookers cheered on.
‘I always knew she was a beefcake, but…’ Blitzen blew out his cheeks.
‘Arnie eat your heart out!’ said Dash, joining in the cheers.
The crowds opposite suddenly parted as Balder stepped into the circle. He looked even more resplendent than usual – almost dazzling in comparison to the gloom of the day. While most of the bikers wore dark colours – black leather cuts, fading t-shirts, oil-stained jeans – he was resplendent in a white shirt, billowing beneath his waistcoat. His pale skin seemed to radiate light.
‘Sorry to be killjoy here, buddies. But … Hey, Hammer, quit goofing around! We need to get this camp taken down and be on our way before sundown.’
The Hammer, still holding the oven and the bikers, turned to him and feigned co-operation. ‘Sure, Baldy. No time for fooling about.’ But then she gave him a hard shove with her free hand, which sent Balder flying into a table, knocking over a load of coffee.
Balder slowly got up and brushed himself down. His pristine shirt was stained with coffee.
‘Oooooo….’ went the crowd.
‘That’s it! You knucklehead!’ Balder fumed.
The Hammer dropped the oven, whump into the sand – sending the two bikers flying – and cricked her neck. ‘What did you call me?’
Balder squared up to the woman, who towered above him. ‘Get on with striking the camp!’ he shouted, all his easy-going composure lost.
There was a beat, then The Hammer gave him her right hook. Everybody winced, but Balder just smiled, none the worse. ‘Is that the best you can do?’
The Hammer growled, and laid into him with everything she had – but Balder just stood there, laughing.
‘Don’t you know, knucklehead? I’m invulnerable. Nothing can harm me!’
Just at that moment, somebody decided to throw a bottle, and it smashed on the back of his head. Balder sighed wearily, and just brushed the shards from his hair like it was a cobweb. This was an open invite – and suddenly the air was full of missiles raining down upon Balder, who just stood there, taking it all like it was a slightly irritating hailstorm, but nothing more than that.
The Hammer just stood with her lump-hammer fists on her hips, laughing.
‘William Burroughs! Let’s play William Burroughs!’ somebody piped up.
‘What’s that?’ asked Eddy, turning to his buddies.
‘It’s a bit like William Tell, but with a loaded gun,’ said Blitzen.
There was general consent about this suggestion – everyone slightly bosky, with the wild wind and the extraordinary revelations – and a firearm was found.
The Hammer checked in with Balder. ‘You okay about this?’
‘Sure, nothing in the nine worlds can harm me. Go ahead.’ He stood back, and pulled open the top of his shirt, revealing the pale skin of his chest.
‘Hey, let his brother do it!’ shouted someone else, Eddy couldn’t see who.
There were growls of approval from the pumped-up crowd. ‘Yeah! Holder? We need Holder!’
Eddy turned to his mates. ‘Balder’s got a brother?’
‘Sure, he’s a bit of an introvert – complete opposite of that poseur,’ commented Blitzen. ‘We don’t see much of him. The quiet type, y’know. Ach, here he is!’
The brother was pushed into the circle with encouraging cheers.
‘Hold on a mo – he’s … blind!’
‘Details!’ grinned Dash. ‘Will make the whole game even more fun! Watch this!’
The Hammer stepped forward. ‘Holder, we’re playing William Tell with your irritating brother. Do you fancy firing a loaded gun at him!’
‘Sure! He was always insufferable – now he’s even worse! Where is it?’
The crowd cheered and The Hammer placed the weapon in his hand. Standing behind him, he pointed the brother in Balder’s direction. Everybody behind and to the side stood right back, as Holder’s lifted the gun up.
‘Left a bit, right a bit … that’s it. Fire!’
There was a deafening bang and Eddy gasped as he saw Balder crumple to the ground. Chaos erupted.
‘What’s going on?’ said Holder, standing there with the weapon loose in his grip, it’s barrel still smoking. The cordite in the air mixed with the brine. The wind howled even wilder than before, and the waves pounded the beach in fury.
The Hammer cradled Balder in her lap, weeping. ‘What have we done?’
Balder looked up at the darkening sky. ‘I … thought … I was meant to be …’ The light went from his eyes, and he went limp.
The strange micro-climate on the beach went out like a light.
There was a rumble of thunder directly overhead, then lightning split the black lid of sky apart, as though ‘God had just taken a Polaroid’, as his sister used to say. The dismal scene stood out, momentarily, in blanched starkness.
‘What’s happening?’ called out Holder. ‘Don’t keep me in the dark here, guys!’
‘Holder, it’s your brother. You … He’s…’ spoke a biker hoarsely.
Everyone looked on aghast.
Extract from Thunder Road by Kevan Manwaring
Copyright (c) Kevan Manwaring 2020