Read Odin Blew Up My TV! Online

Authors: Robert J. Harris

Odin Blew Up My TV! (3 page)

BOOK: Odin Blew Up My TV!
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The police car rolled to a stop a short way from Lewis and Dave the Lobster. Two young police offers got out and paused to confer.

“When somebody phoned in about a Viking ship,” said the policeman, “I thought it was a prank. But just look at this, Iona.”

“Never mind how strange it is, Kenny,” said the policewoman, “just play it by the book.”

They walked up to Loki and glanced warily at the wolflings. “Excuse me, sir,” said policeman Kenny, “but can I ask what is going on here?”

“You can ask,” said Loki with a smirk, “but I don’t think you would understand. It’s a bit too cosmic for your puny human brain.” He twirled a finger in the air to illustrate just how cosmic it all was.

“Maybe we should call Stephen Hawking,” Dave the Lobster suggested. “I’ll bet he could figure it out.”

“Officers, maybe you should let me explain,” said Lewis.

“You’d best keep out of the way, son,” said Kenny. “You too, sir,” he advised Dave the Lobster.

“No problem, inspector,” said Dave.

Iona the policewoman looked Loki boldly in the eye. “Do you have a licence for these creatures?” she demanded, pointing at the wolflings.

Loki squinted at her. “What?”

“You can’t import wild animals into Scotland without a licence,” she informed him stiffly.

“I’ve got news for you, chief,” Loki responded with a smirk. “You’re not in Scotland any more.”

Iona and Kenny exchanged glances.

“I’m afraid you’re a little confused, sir,” said Kenny. “This is St Andrews, which is in Fife, which is in Scotland.”

Loki shook his head. “We are not in Fife, we are not in Scotland, and we are definitely not in Kansas.”

“Kansas, Logan?” said Dave the Lobster. “I think you’ve got your atlas a little mixed up.”

“It’s a line from
The Wizard of Oz
, you dumb cluck,” Loki growled at him. He glanced at Lewis. “You know, I always thought your brother was a pain in the rump, but this guy…” With a jab of his thumb he motioned two of his wolf guards forward. “Toss him in the drink,” he commanded. “That should shut him up.”

Dave took a startled step back as the creatures advanced on him. “Hey, let’s be cool,” he pleaded with a weak smile.

The policewoman moved between them and raised a hand, causing the wolflings to pull up short.

“Get on the radio, Kenny,” she said, “and call for backup.”

The policeman ducked into the car and seized a radio from the dashboard.

“Look, sister, let’s just be clear about this,” said Loki with a sweep of his arm. “This whole town and everything in it belongs to me now.”

Lewis saw Iona take a deep breath. “Whatever it is you think you’re up to, sir, you’re just getting yourself into trouble.”

“Trouble?” Loki exclaimed. “Trouble? You don’t get it, dollface. I invented trouble!”

Kenny got out of the car and joined Iona. Shaking his head, he reported, “Nothing on the radio but a lot of squeals and screeches.”

“Why don’t you two make yourselves scarce,” said Loki. “I need to go find myself a palace.”

“Actually, sir, I’ll have to ask you to remain here,” said Iona.

At that moment there was a gasp from the onlookers scattered about the harbour. They were all pointing upward.

A gigantic bird had appeared in the sky. It had blazing red feathers and a wingspan as wide as a goal mouth. With an ear-splitting screech it plunged down. Squawking in panic, the gulls on the harbour wall scattered in terror.

The winged predator landed with a thump on the roof of the police car, its talons scoring deep grooves in the paintwork.

“This is my pal Falkior,” said Loki. “Impressive, eh?”

“It’s damaging police property!” said Kenny.

The great hawk let out another piercing screech and Loki nodded, as though it were delivering a message. At a signal from the god of mischief it took off again and flew out of sight.

“I don’t understand how you can even be here, Loki,” said Lewis. “Odin told us he’d tossed you into some great cosmic pit of nothingness.”

Loki grinned. “It’s called the Ginnungagap, The Great Nothingness That Existed Before Anything Was.”

“How could you possibly get out of that?” Lewis asked.

“Well, the great pit wasn’t as empty as old Odin supposed, so I had a bit of help making my escape. I also came back with enough magical power to grab your town and dump it in the middle of Vanaheim.”

“Vanaheim?” said Lewis. “You mean the land of the gods?”

“That’s right,” said Loki. “Plonked it down on top of Asgard and knocked those snotty gods and their city out of their world.”

“Sir, I’m afraid you’re making absolutely no sense at all,” said Iona.

“If you ask me,” muttered Kenny, “he’s cracked in the head.”

Loki grunted irritably. “Let me see if I can put it in terms you mortal flea-brains might be able to grasp,” he
said. “Think of Vanaheim as a billiard table and Asgard as a red ball sitting on that billiard table. This town of yours is the white ball, which I have smashed into that red ball and knocked it into a corner pocket of the table. See?”

“But where has Asgard disappeared to then?” Lewis asked. If the other gods were truly gone, he couldn’t think of any way that Loki could be stopped.

Loki shrugged. “Best guess – the whole city has been knocked down into Niflheim, the land of the dead. And from there, there is
definitely
no way back.”

“Wow, Elvis, you two are coming out with some cosmic stuff,” said Dave. “It sounds like something out of a comic book.”

“I wish it was just a comic, Dave,” Lewis sighed.

The fishermen had left their boats and formed a belligerent gang. “Officers,” one of them said to Kenny and Iona, “if you need any help sorting out these troublemakers, you can count on us.”

The fishermen were a burly crew, but Lewis was sure they would be no match for the armed wolflings. Growling, the ferocious guards now drew their swords out of their sheaths, which made an ugly rasping sound.

“Hold it, boys,” said Loki, raising a hand to restrain them. “This could get messy.”

The wolflings lowered their weapons but glowered menacingly at the fishermen and the police.

“Dealing with a whole town of numbskull mortals is
going to be a big headache,” Loki continued. “There’s another way.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sliver of crystal about the size of a pencil. Light gleamed inside it, matching the wicked glint in Loki’s eye.

Kenny glanced at the crystal suspiciously. “That could be regarded as an offensive weapon, sir,” he advised.

“Offensive?” Loki repeated mockingly. “You don’t know the half of it.”

As he spoke the light in the crystal grew brighter.

“Hey, look at the mist!” Dave exclaimed.

Lewis looked out over the water and saw that the great mass of mist was now sparkling with an unearthly light and rolling swiftly towards them, as though drawn to the crystal. The first billow of glittering vapour engulfed the fishermen, who immediately froze on the spot.

“Hey, what have you done to them?” Iona demanded.

She was just reaching for the truncheon on her belt when the mist reached the two officers, who instantly became as still as statues, their faces fixed in an expression of stunned surprise.

Puzzled, Dave moved towards them for a closer look.

Lewis grabbed the back of his t-shirt and restrained him. “No, Dave, we have to get away from the mist!” He released his grip and started uphill towards town.

“Yeah, I think you’re right, Elvis,” Dave agreed.

But before he could move, one of the wolflings seized him by his spiky hair and hauled him into the mist.

Another wolfling started after Lewis, who, spinning about, kicked a pile of lobster creels into the path of his pursuer. The wolfling’s feet got tangled in the baskets and he fell flat on his muzzle.

Lewis scrambled up the path to where the walls of the ruined cathedral loomed over him. Behind him the onlookers, who hadn’t moved quickly enough to escape the mist, were frozen like statues.

Lewis could feel the mist closing in on him fast. Looking around desperately for a means of escape, he spotted a bicycle lying on the grass below the cathedral wall. He heaved it upright and jumped on as the mist billowed towards him.

He pushed off and pedalled furiously towards town. Swerving round the front of the cathedral, he swept past the war memorial while the rolling mist chased after him like a hungry beast.

As Greg and Susie headed up Market Street they passed several people shaking their mobile phones, trying to make them work. A young man raged futilely at a cash machine that was flashing the words ‘Magic Beans Only’ at him.

As they turned the corner into Union Street, they passed two cars that had come together nose to nose, with both drivers cursing their malfunctioning satnavs.

“Everything’s going completely loopy,” Susie commented.

“That’s a sure sign Loki’s behind it,” said Greg.

They turned right into North Street past the old Salvation Army Hall. Looking down towards the cathedral they saw people hurrying up from the harbour. Among them was Tommy Wright, one of Greg’s classmates. He would have run right past them if Greg hadn’t grabbed his arm.

“Hang on, Tommy, where’s the fire?” Greg asked.

Tommy gave him a wild-eyed look. “M-m-m-monsters down at the harbour,” he stammered. “Like something out of a computer game. And the mist! It’s freezing folk!” He pulled loose of Greg’s grasp and ran off like he was being chased by a lion.

“Did you see Lewis there?” Susie called after him, but
Tommy didn’t stop to answer.

Even as she spoke, on the other side of the road, a sparkling grey mist rolled over the Younger Hall, enveloping its columns and windows. A man stepped out of the door into the mist and froze in his tracks.

“Uh-oh! This is serious!” said Susie.

“Don’t just stand there, Spinny!” Greg exclaimed. “It’s coming right for us!”

They spun round and ran back the way they’d come. Glancing over his shoulder, Greg saw the mist rising up to the rooftops as it poured down Union Street. Anyone caught in its path was instantly paralysed.

Greg and Susie ducked down Logie’s Lane as the mist filled Market Street behind them.

“It’s gaining on us!” cried Susie as they emerged into Church Square in front of the town library.

“We need a place where it can’t reach us,” said Greg.

The sound of ethereal voices drew their attention to Holy Trinity Church, which formed one side of the square, its spire soaring above them. Pinned to the side door facing them was a poster advertising a Norwegian choir who would be performing there that night.

“Look,” said Greg, grabbing Susie by the arm, “we’ll duck in here and claim sanctuary or whatever they call it.”

“Greg, I don’t think…” Susie began, but Greg was already dragging her inside.

He slammed the door behind them and backed away. At the far end of the church a large man in a suit was conducting the choir, who all stared at the intruders but kept on singing.

Mr Gillies the minister came rushing up to them, looking very vexed. “I’m happy for you to sit and listen to the choir,” he said testily, “but we simply can’t have a lot of banging and noise.”

They recognised Mr Gillies from the times he’d addressed the school assembly.

“Sorry, Reverend,” said Greg, “but we have to shut it out.”

“It?” the minister repeated in a baffled voice. “It… out?”

“The mist,” Susie explained. “It’s spreading over the whole town.”

The minister folded his arms and tried to look ominous. “If this is your idea of a prank,” he said, “I am not amused.”

“It’s no prank,” said Susie, pointing. “Look!”

Mist was seeping around the edges of the door and spreading over the wall. It swelled into a cloud and expanded towards them.

Greg spat out a word that was not appropriate for church as he and Susie dashed up the aisle.

Mr Gillies had just started to shout after them when the mist wrapped itself around him. He froze, with his mouth gaping open.

The mist flooded the church to their right, forcing Greg and Susie to veer left. They darted for a door just
behind the choir. The singers fell silent as the cloud rolled towards them and the conductor just had time to cry out in Norwegian before they were engulfed.

“He’s probably complaining about the Scottish weather,” said Greg as he and Susie bashed through the door and into the passage beyond.

The passage turned a corner to the right. Racing down it, they barged through another door into a storeroom full of stacked chairs and shelves crammed with hymn books.

“This is a dead end!” Greg groaned as he shut the door on the mist, which was rolling down the corridor after them.

“No, it’s not,” said Susie, leaping up onto a stack of chairs. “There’s a window up here.”

She threw open the high window and clambered out, dropping to the other side. She landed on her feet, nimble as a cat, on the front lawn. Greg scrambled after her and flopped down on the grass.

“Come on,” said Susie, helping him up.

The lawn was enclosed by a low iron railing. They swung over it easily and landed in South Street. Behind them the mist swirled around the walls of Holy Trinity and snaked its way up the spire.

“The only place safe from that stuff would be a sealed bank vault,” said Greg.

“I don’t think any bank is going to let you just walk into their vault,” said Susie.

“Don’t be so sure,” said Greg. “A few words from
The Verbal Ninja
might persuade them.”

“No time for that, Greg,” Susie replied. “We’d better keep running.”

They pelted across the street, heading for Queen’s Gardens. At this point they weren’t the only ones running. A sense of alarm had finally spread through the entire town and crowds of people were now trying desperately to flee the mist.

Skirting the town hall, they raced down Queen’s Gardens to Queen’s Terrace. From here a steep, narrow brae led down to the Kinnessburn, the stream that separated the old town from the new.

“If we can get to the bridge across the burn,” Greg gasped, “maybe this stuff won’t cross the water.”

“I hate to say this, Greg,” said Susie, “but it did come in off the sea.”

They started down the brae with the mist pressing close. Susie could feel the icy touch of it on the back of her neck.

“Faster!” Greg urged.

Then he gave a strangled cry as his foot snagged on a crooked piece of paving. Susie collided with him as he pitched forward. The next instant they both tumbled head over heels down the brae, ending up in an ungainly heap at the bottom.

Before they could scramble to their feet they were completely engulfed in the mist’s frigid embrace. 

BOOK: Odin Blew Up My TV!
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