The Viking Wants Forever (2 page)

“I think you angered Loki,” Otis whispered. Eyes wide, he let go of her wrist as if burned.

Reese did her best to ignore his superstitious mumbo jumbo, but deep down she had her doubts. After all, she believed in ghosts, reincarnation and love at first sight. Still, her desire to move forward with her life, proved stronger than any misgivings. Once her heroine was set back to rights, she gave the dice another shake. She lowered her hand, preparing to release the dice when Melanie wrapped her hand around hers, almost crushing her fingers.  

“Wait!” the pint-size expert on Japanese Anime implored. “We can’t let her do this.” Her hazel eyes flitted around the table, looking for support. “We need her! She’s the highest-level fighter we have. Without her we won’t have a chance against the Vikings.” She turned to Reese and planted her hands on her shoulders. “We’re all brainiacs but you’re the quickest thinker out of the bunch of us.”

“Reading a plethora of survival guides and twelve years as a Girl Scout tends to do that to you,” Allen quipped. He ducked, barely missing the second donut Reese hurled at his head.

“Are you sure you’re my best friend?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but Melanie’s innocently worded question beat him to the punch.

“You were a Girl Scout?” she asked, her expression incredulous behind a pair of rhinestone cat glasses. She hadn’t built a campfire since her sophomore year in high school, but Reese still felt the sting of embarrassment.

“I was only in Girl Scouts for
nine years
,” she stressed, looking pointedly at Allen. “I quit right after I earned my ‘Stick to the Point’ fencing patch.”

“I thought it was a ‘Knee Deep in Horse —’” Allen interjected, but he wasn’t able to finish because Reese hit him in the kisser with another donut. This time a powdered one.

“I quit after earning my fencing badge. Kids” —she stopped to clear her throat —“kids can be pretty cruel when they find out you spend your weekends learning how to prevent hypothermia and frostbite instead of scouting out boys in the local mall.”

“I thought
I
was a dork.” Letting Reese go, Melanie patted at her Betty Page, Brill-cream enhanced hairstyle.

“I wasn’t a dork.” Reese bristled. “Just an awkward tomboy who yearned for adventure.” Too bad she didn’t have that same spirit. Maybe she wouldn’t be eyeing thirty, still woefully single and shackled to a job she hated. Well, not anymore.
I’m getting out of here!
 

“Enough of rehashing my personal history. You guys are going to have to make do without me ‘cause I’m gone.”

Before anyone else could stop her, Reese dropped the dice onto the countertop. All eyes watched the pair tumble to a stop.

“You rolled an eleven,” Otis mumbled, drawing everyone’s attention. Riveted, Reese watched him pull at the scruffy ginger beard concealing his double chins. “Your blow lands true, cleaving the Norseman from clavicle to hip.”

“Otis,” Reese warned, drawing out the vowels. “Want to remain on my Christmas cookie exchange list?”

“Okay...okay. As the berserker fell, Thor gifted him with enough strength to smite you with a deadly blow with his battle axe, decapitating you.”

Gulping, Reese unconsciously clawed at her throat. She definitely didn’t see that coming. Somewhat unsteadily, she pushed back from the checkout counter. “Well, that’s that...I’m out of here.”

Amid the group’s abject silence, she grabbed her green windbreaker and the canvas satchel she’d woven during a Camp Makowee Super Saturday, slinging it over her shoulder. She turned to leave, and was hit by the craziest idea.

Store keys in hand, Reese swung back around. “It’s your turn to hold down the fort.” She tossed her keys to Allen. Nerd that he was he missed them. “Tell Mr. Majeed I quit.”

Feeling a little like Norma Rae, Reese turned her back on her former co-workers and headed for the door. She barely made it past the Marvel section when Allen halted her with a hand on her shoulder.

“If you’re trying to talk me out of it save your—”

To her surprise, he drew her into a huge bear hug. “That was sooo freakin’ bad ass...of Catniss proportions...no...no better than that...more like Carol Danvers!”

Reese grinned. Being compared to a kick-ass heroine like Ms. Marvel felt kind of good.

Allen’s gray eyes narrowed. “You’re going to do it aren’t you? You’re going to finally put that berserker series into print.”

Faced with the gargantuan task ahead of her, Reese lost her tongue. What had she co-signed on to? With no agent or publishing house backing her, producing
and
distributing a comic book series wasn’t going to be a cake walk.

Somehow sensing an about-face, Allen grabbed her upper arms and marched her backward toward the entrance. “Always thought you were too talented to be schlepping around here.” He unlocked the front doors for her. “Call me tomorrow. I want to hear all about your plans and how I’m going to play a part in them.” Considering she hadn’t thought past the present moment, Reese didn’t laugh at Allen’s joke.

“Whoa...It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” he pointed out, oblivious to the tear his babble was causing to her insides. He let her go to pluck one of the umbrellas from a metal canister filled with them by the door. “What a great start to the next chapter of your new life.”

“Just my luck,” she mumbled, frozen with fear of the unknown. Immobile, Reese stood on the threshold, looking out at the deluge just a couple of yards away. Despite the torrent, the rain did nothing to subdue the humidity.

“’Life is like a rainbow. You need both the sun and rain to make its colors appear, as my grandpa Patrick McNeal from County Kildare used to say.” Allen stepped onto the sidewalk, and popped open the umbrella.

Allen tended to spout nonsense than a comic book villain, but there was always a nugget in there somewhere. Back on track, with her spine intact, Reese joined him on the sidewalk. “Thank you for being the best sidekick a girl could wish for.”

“Just call me Kato.” Gloating, Allen pulled at the ornamental black suspenders he’d worn with his jeans. He was just as much a hipster as he was a geek, from his tattoo sleeves to his black lumberjack beard to his haircut, high on the top, low on the sides.

“Funny, I was thinking more along the lines of Jughead.”

Allen’s lips twisted into a grin, exposing a neat row of metal braces. “I love me a juicy hamburger.”

“Extra onions and ketchup, hold the pickles.”

Allen held his fist out. “Dynamic Duo?”

“Always.” Grinning, Reese rapped her knuckles against his.

“Hey! Do I need to kill you off as well?” Otis yelled.

Before she could say ‘SHAZAM!’ Allen scrambled back inside. “Unlike you, I don’t have any special talents, only sarcasm.” He reached over and hit the power switch. “Live long and prosper,” he said as the doors slowly closed. Reese returned his Spock salute. The moment was more than a little bittersweet. For the first time in seven years, someone else locked up behind her.

Done with being the walking dead, Reese spun around, umbrella raised against the elements. She took only three steps when a strong gust of wind yanked it backward over its ribs —rendering it useless.

“Life is like a rainbow,” Reese muttered as she tossed the umbrella into a nearby trash can. Without another to protect her, she popped the collar of her red windbreaker. What good it would do her, since the bus stop was five blocks away.

“G
ood evening, ma’am.” Reese tried returning the bus driver’s warm greeting, but her teeth were chattering too badly, and she could barely feel her toes in her soggy Chuck Taylors. At least she wore her hair in corn rows or her natural hair would be a bird’s nest. 

“Sorry ’bout the two hour wait. The other bus broke down a mile from here. Oddest thing, since it’s a brand new bus.”

“Yeah, the oddest thing...” She sniffed, swiping her fare card.

The card reader flashed a zero balance. “Can this day get any worse?” she growled. Fuming, Reese fumbled through her bag and then her jeans. Only piecing together seventy-five cents, she looked at the driver imploringly.

“Sorry ma’am. The fare’s a buck twenty-five, and rules are rules.”

“I’ll pay the lady’s fare.” Riveted, Reese watched a tall, thin man with flaming red hair walk toward the front of the bus. Dressed in a green leather tunic, with matching tights and short leather boots, he was obviously one of those theme actors who worked for Renaissance Times Dinner and Jousting. She thought
she’d
settled, but those clowns had
really
settled.

Giving him a weak smile, she wiped at the water running down her nose. “I really appreciate it. I usually have the correct fare.”

He watched her as he deposited the coins. Feeling uneasy and strangely exposed under his pale green stare, she averted her gaze. “I’m sure,” he uttered, his accent thick and guttural.

“If you give me your address, I can mail you the money back.” For some reason, Reese didn’t want to be indebted to him.

He chuckled, causing the hairs on the back of Reese’s neck to bristle. “Your offer is unnecessary. Take this as an act of charity.”

Mumbling her gratitude, Reese edged past him. She didn’t get very far when a surge of energy swept through her. Doubled over and gasping, Reese grabbed one of the metal seat bars to keep herself upright.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

No, but she would live. Reese straightened and turned around. “I–I’m fine,” she assured the driver, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Just a little static shock I guess, from the rubber matting and that guy who paid my fare.”

Reese stopped, taking note of the suddenly empty bus. “Where did the Robin Hood look-alike go?”

“Robin who?” the driver asked. Short arms and all belly, he struggled with the wheel, pitching the bus around a corner and causing a tidal wave in its wake. Reese gripped the handle bar tighter, preventing another spill.

“The guy who paid my fare.”

The driver frowned and his triple chins pressed against his shirt, hiding the starched collar. “You’re my first passenger since switching buses.” He glanced up in the mirror, momentarily taking his eyes off the road. “Hard day at work?”

When was it not a hard day at The Comic League? She busted her behind, clocking sixty hours a week. Head in the clouds or nose deep in a comic book, living more on fantasy and fiction than reality, her staff barely performed their jobs. So every day had been grueling. The only thing was working like a dog had never caused hallucinations, or the odd misgivings following her encounter with the Good Samaritan.

Confused, Reese searched for a more logical reason, but came up as empty as the seats around her. Maybe the job and the resulting stress really were the cause. She remembered Allen’s third cousin Loretta becoming paralyzed from stress, and how it took her six months to re-learn how to walk. So if a person could lose the ability to walk, wouldn’t it be possible for her to suffer from hallucinations?

Two hours later and the night’s events still bothering her, Reese unlocked the door to her one bedroom apartment a quarter till midnight.  Leaving her wet shoes and socks piled outside her door, she threw her bag and jacket on the couch and then headed to the bathroom where she pulled off her damp clothes. 

Normally, Reese would’ve jumped in the shower. Not wanting to be near any more water, she opted out until morning. Instead, she threw on her night shirt, grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around her still damp braids. For good measure, she turned up the thermostat.

While turning back her bed, her cell phone rang. Reese glanced at the screen and opted to call Allen back in the morning. Once he discovered she didn’t have any future plans beyond stretching her savings, the resulting conversation would only leave her more depressed than she already was.

With thoughts of the present plaguing her, Reese crawled into bed with the remote control. She wasn’t a fan of television, but she couldn’t sleep without the background noise. Dog tired, she was she out like a light before the late night talk show host could finish his opening monologue.

* * * * *

“N
eeiggh!”

Great! TV Land must have added old episodes of
Mr. Ed
to its late night lineup!

Not a fan of the TV classic, Reese groped for the remote. Searching, her hand ran over the bed linen and she paused. Her down comforter felt like a scratchy wool blanket. Sitting up, her butt scraped against solid rock and not her mattress.

“What in the heck!” Reese snatched back the poor excuse for a blanket and found hard-packed earth.

Reese clutched the sides of her head. She was losing it! First the Robin Hood look-alike and now this! As she pulled herself slowly from the ledge, Reese suddenly felt a warm puff of air graze her right cheek. Too frightened to move, she sent up several Hail Marys.

“Neeiggh!”

With a cry of fear, Reese scuttled back on her hands and knees until she slammed into hard rock. Struggling to breathe, senses sharpened, she picked up the faint scent of hay and the muffled howl of wind.

Curious and refusing to die sitting down, Reese slowly stood. She inched her way around the space of what she now realized had to be a cave until the wall gave way to a bundle of packed sticks and a leather-draped opening. Hoping for a means of escape, she threw the covering aside.

“Dorothy...we haven’t landed in Oz...it’s landed on us,” she whispered, more than a little startled by the sight of frozen tundra and snowcapped mountains. A far cry from Cocoa Beach’s warm weather and flat terrain.

Transfixed, Reese stood there while the wind whipped around her, stinging her ears and tugging at the hem of her cape. Greasy and worn, the leather material slapped at her calves.

What happened to the Sailor Moon T-shirt she’d worn to bed? Shaking from more than just the frigid climate, Reese glanced down. Her oversize T-shirt had been replaced with a floor-length muddy-colored woolen tunic and leather slippers.

“I’ve been kidnapped and dumped into a Renaissance fair nightmare.” Remembering the guy on the bus, she stumbled backward. Did he have something to do with this? Tripping over her own two feet as she grabbed for the curtain, she ripped it from its moorings. The predawn sun stole past her. Its fingers crept over the cave’s walls, illuminating it, as well as a travel pack resting near a cold fire pit and the culprit who’d scared her shitless: a blue-black gelding chomping away on a pile of hay in the back corner.