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  She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and took Erik’s in her own. His skin was dry and his hands were worn like a fisherman’s, despite his interior work.

  “He sleeps like an angel,” she said to him without looking round.

  “He is an angel,” her husband agreed. “He likes it here.”

  “That’s as maybe,” she pondered back. “But I still think we should leave.”

  “Not this again.”

  “Yes, this again! Those people… you saw the way they looked at us… at you.”

  “Freja had a heart attack. I merely performed resuscitation.”

  “I don’t think they saw it like that.”

  “Can I be responsible for the thinking of these backwards people?” he scoffed.

  “No, but I didn’t like the way they looked at us, Erik; it scared me.”

  He laughed and hugged her tightly.

  “A little vandalism? So they are scared of knowledge. That is their problem, not mine and not yours. What is it that you think they will do? Burn us like the pictures in their religious books? Sacrifice us to their god?”

  “Maybe,” she responded warily.

  Erik laughed again, but this time his voice was cut short as he looked into his wife’s eyes and saw that she being serious – deadly serious.

  “You worry too much,” he said as he kissed her forehead, but she noticed that his expression was becoming creased with his own concern.

  She knew that he respected her and her opinions. If she was worried, then maybe he ought to be too.

  A noise startled her from outside and she left his embrace. She rushed to the window and snatched up the rifle before peering carefully out into the black night beyond.

  “I’m sure it was nothing,” Erik said as he joined her. Together, they stared out. “Lots of wildlife out there. We’re not in the city anymore.”

  Astrid slowly nodded in agreement but never took her eyes away from the window.

  Something moved somewhere out there as the snow fell harder and Astrid wiped the rising condensation from her own hot rapid breath. Her hands were gripping the rifle tightly enough to make the walnut butt crack a little.

  Something else moved in the shadows off to the side and she jerked her head, but it was already gone. Another shadow came alive, but again, she couldn’t see enough to pinpoint it.

  “Wolves, probably,” Erik ventured. “Sniffing around for food? Maybe they’re attracted by the lights?”

  Astrid shook her head this time and thought about her time growing up. “I don’t think so. This doesn’t feel like wolves; it’s not their sort of movement.”

  Something out in the large snowmobile shed was knocked over and fell noisily to the floor. Astrid reacted and moved quickly across the room, turning out the lights and plunging the room into darkness.

  The bright white snow outside illuminated the room as it shone through the window aided by a now emerging moon.

  Astrid cocked the hunting rifle and Erik jumped from across the room.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed nervously.

  She ignored his question as she moved back to the window. She knelt down with the rifle raised up to her shoulder, her eyes darting about, scanning the exterior like a hunter’s.

  “This is ridiculous!” Erik exclaimed. “You are acting like them, now! We are not people that are scared of the dark, Astrid; we are…”

  His voice trailed off as he spotted something moving quickly across the window, the shape too tall to be an animal.

  “Stay with Olaf!” she ordered.

  She ducked out of the room and headed for the kitchen and the back door, which seemed the easiest place to breach.

  She cursed herself now for not listening to her own worries. She should have pushed Erik into leaving, at least for a little while, but now it was too late.

  The wooden door handle started to turn slowly as though being tested, and Astrid aimed the rifle at the door. She was sure that it was locked, but she couldn’t know for certain and wasn’t in the mood for taking any chances now.

  The handle jiggled again, and she let out a gentle sigh of relief: it was locked.

  Footsteps now crunched away outside in the snow and Astrid swung the rifle slowly to the left, matching the person’s movement around the house until it reached the window.

  A now visible, but unrecognisable, figure paused by the window and tried to open it. Whomever it was, they were merely a shape outside the window, but they were an intruder in Astrid’s eyes.

  She fired a single shot through the window, but it was high and designed to miss.

  “YOU GET ONE WARNING!” she yelled as she slid the bolt on the rifle to chamber another bullet.

  The figure quickly ducked away out of sight, and Astrid waited a few more seconds to make sure that it was gone.

  Someone suddenly struck the back door hard enough to make the wooden frame creak worryingly under the effort. When a shoulder didn’t have the desired effect, an axe blade suddenly exploded through the door.

  Astrid was comfortable letting fly a warning shot, and she had been hopeful that would suffice, but seeing the axe coming through the door, she knew that all bets were off now.

  Steeling herself, she aimed at the centre of the door and fired again, allowing her mind to take refuge in the process of the action rather than the possible – even probable – outcome.

  The bullet punched through the all-too-flimsy wood and landed in something soft and wet beyond. There was a dull grunt and then a heavy thud down onto the porch floor.

  Her senses were attuning now to the environment, and she felt that she could hear any boots in the snow if she listened hard enough.

  The back of her top was soaked through with sweat, and her hands were starting to tremble under the weight of what she’d done, but she quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Any guilt could come later; she just didn’t have that luxury right now.

  Once she was sure that there was no one else lurking outside the rear of the building, she started to move back into the living quarters. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she picked up the pace. Why hadn’t Erik called out after hearing the unmistakable sound of gunshots?

  Rather than risk calling out, she hurried silently back through the building, moving stealthily in case anyone was already inside.

  The rifle felt slippery in her hands, and the long barrel was not suited to the narrow hallway leading back towards Olaf’s bedroom.

  Her worst fears were confirmed when she rounded the corner and found herself confronted with a terrifying scene.

  Erik was on his knees. A figure that had to be male stood behind him dressed in a hooded white – almost druid-looking – outfit. The hood was pulled down low and he wore a face mask pulled up to cover all but his piercing blue eyes.

  The man was holding a vicious-looking hunting knife with a serrated blade to her husband’s throat, and Erik’s eyes were wide with fear, but she knew him well enough to know that his fear was solely directed towards her and their son’s wellbeing.

  A smaller figure in a similar outfit, with a slender frame, stood next to Olaf’s bed. Only now, the bed was empty and the woman was holding her son.

  The woman wore a matching face mask to her male companion, but her lashes and her slight build gave away her gender.

  Astrid raised the rifle up and aimed it squarely at the hooded man’s head.

  “Let him go,” she ordered slowly. “Both of you.”

  Her words were hard and low, and her hands were no longer shaking as she held a steady aim.

  The woman holding her son slowly withdrew a knife of her own and pressed it gently against Olaf, gently enough so as not to wake him.

  “Put the weapon down, blasphemer!” the woman ordered.

  “The hell I will,” Astrid snarled back. “Get out of my house. Get out and we’ll leave town. Stay, and I’ll kill you both, along with anyone else who’s out there; it’s that simple.”

  “You shall an
swer for your crimes, witch,” the woman replied, pushing the blade a little harder against Olaf’s side, enough to make him stir in his sleep.

  Astrid swung the rifle to point it at the hooded woman holding her son.

  “It opened its mouth to utter blasphemies against God, blaspheming his name and his dwelling,” the woman responded. “How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has spurned the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace?” She quoted a second verse.

  “Look, we can leave, alright? Let me take my husband and my son and we can just leave here.”

  “You practise the dark arts of the devil,” the hooded man rumbled.

  “I saved a woman’s life, you ignorant hicks!” Erik exclaimed incredulously.

  “Her life was not yours,” the woman said offhandedly. “All is God’s will, and ours is to follow his path.”

  “You’re all fucking crazy,” Erik spat, and the large man behind him answered by slamming the handle of his knife down hard onto the back of his skull.

  “DON’T!” Astrid yelled, swinging the rifle back again.

  “You shall face judgement for your crimes,” the woman added slowly as she took a step towards the door.

  Astrid swung the rifle back to the woman to stop her from walking out with her son in her arms. The big man now yanked the slumped Erik back up. Blood started to run from Erik’s head wound, his eyes dazed and groggy.

  The man tilted Erik’s head back, exposing his throat, and placed the knife against it, causing Astrid to swing the rifle back again. All the while, the hooded woman crept towards the exit.

  “STAY THERE!” Astrid screamed as panic started to rise, the rifle now jerking back and forth between the two ever-distancing figures, knowing that a horrific choice was looming between the two people that she loved absolutely.

  The woman took another step, and Astrid trained the rifle on her as she reached the doorway, but Erik gasped as the knife pressed hard against his throat, causing it to bleed.

  She swung the rifle back to the hooded man, which allowed his companion to take another step. She knew that she wasn’t going to be fast enough to save them both and had no idea how to make a decision. Her mind raced for more time, but there was none, as the woman started to step through the door with Olaf in her arms.

  “Olaf,” Erik croaked, winking at her through the blood that had seeped down his face. “Olaf,” he confirmed.

  Astrid’s heart broke as she swung the rifle towards the woman just as the hooded figure stepped through the doorway. She took a deep breath and held it. She took aim and squeezed the trigger, exhaling softly.

  Whatever god these people worshipped was not on their side as Astrid’s aim was true. The bullet exploded out through the woman’s head, splattering her white outfit with bright red blood.

  Astrid swung the rifle back towards the man holding her husband, praying that the sudden violent noise might have shocked the man into temporary motionless. She was sadly mistaken.

  The knife had already drawn across Erik’s throat, tearing it open and spurting his blood outwards as his hands tried helplessly to clamp the wound shut.

  Astrid brought the rifle around, sliding the bolt again as she did so and cranking another bullet into place. She fired a second shot and this time blew the man’s throat apart in some kind of cosmic justice, sending him spinning backwards.

  She ran to check on Erik. A quick glance towards the woman she had shot had shown her that mercifully, she had sunk to the floor still holding the infant in her arms thus protecting him from the fall.

  Erik’s hands had already lost their strength and fallen away from his throat, the blood now seeping rather than spurting. All Astrid could do was to hold his face and his gaze in the few seconds he had before he died.

  She violently swallowed her own grief and tears. There was no time for any of that. She did know how many more might be out there.

  She rushed to her son and snatched him up, hard enough to wake him, and he started to wail at the violent motion.

  Ignoring his cries, she ran into the next room and dressed him as quickly as possible in warm clothing before doing the same for herself. All the while she was moving, she kept the rifle cocked and ready while she checked the various windows for any signs of movement from outside.

  Once dressed, she pulled on their warmest thermal coats, hats and gloves. The temperature outside had already plummeted considerably from the freezing day, and while she would have never, under normal circumstances, considered venturing out after dark, these particular circumstances were far from normal.

  Waiting until light would have been preferable, but right now, she had no idea if anyone would come for them or, indeed, if anyone might still be lurking outside in the dark. The moon was visible and offering some light, and the snow had at least halted for the moment.

  She did her best to check and listen, but Olaf was fighting her now, struggling to get down and continually calling out for his father.

  Astrid moved forcibly out to the rear of the building and then out into the equipment shed. She tied Olaf down onto the snowmobile before hooking on the full petrol cans taken down from the shelving and fixing them onto the back of the machine.

  There had been no other movement outside, and she was reasonably sure that they were alone. The next town was some thirty miles over, and the thought of trying to make it through the pitch-black night in subzero temperatures seemed like a crazy idea, but she had no choice if she wanted to protect her son and make sure that Erik’s sacrifice was not meaningless.

  With the still wailing Olaf tied securely onto the snowmobile, she moved to the shed’s large double doors. She eased them apart slowly and quietly. She then took a quick look outside to make sure that they were alone before putting the rifle on the floor and starting the noisy process of pulling the doors all the way open.

  “Hush now, Olaf!” she pleaded, his wails making her cringe with their noise.

  “Astrid?”

  The voice startled her as she had not heard any kind of approach. Outside, the moon had again been swallowed by thick clouds as the snow started to fall again, and the night was black.

  Astrid looked down at the rifle on the ground but had no time to reach for it as a woman emerged out of the shadows and hurried to the shed.

  “Freja?” Astrid exclaimed with some – but not total – relief as her eyes enviously eyed the out-of-reach rifle on the ground.

  “Oh, thank God you’re okay,” the general store owner said as she ducked inside the shed and out of the snow.

  Freja walked past Astrid and over to Olaf, whose wails ceased when he spotted the woman.

  “What is this madness, Freja?” Astrid demanded. “They… Erik is… dead…,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “I am so sorry. I tried to stop them, but they would not listen to me. You are unharmed?”

  “For now, but I’m getting the hell out of here, Freja,” Astrid said as she stared back out into the night, trying to check if the woman had come alone.

  “I tried to tell them.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Astrid replied absently as she scanned the open ground between the shed and the tree line.

  “I told them,” Freja said sadly.

  “Well there’s no time for that now; we’re getting out of here. You should go back to town. You shouldn’t be seen with us.”

  “They wouldn’t listen.”

  “Well that tends to happen with crazy people.”

  “I told them that this wasn’t the way.”

  Astrid’s head suddenly popped up like a meerkat’s at the woman’s choice of words. She would have turned immediately, but out in the night, the darkness was being burned away by a sequence of fire as people lit torches in a semi circle surrounding the property. One by one, townsfolk were illuminated by the fiery wooden staffs they held aloft.

  Astrid turned back, her f
ace dawning in horror, to face Freja. The general store owner was holding two things now – Olaf and the rifle.

  “Freja…?” Astrid began. “We… we saved your life…!”

  “And I shall return the favour.” Freja smiled. “I shall raise him as if he was my very own.”

  The rifle fired and Astrid felt the bullet tear through her stomach and exit through her spine. She collapsed to the ground and could only lie dying as Freja put the rifle down and used both hands to hold Olaf.

  Astrid tried to call out to her son, but she had no voice. Her insides felt like they were leaking out into the snow, and the icy wind was rushing in through a hole that should not exist there.

  She could only watch on as Freja turned Olaf in her arms and buried his head into her chest so that he would at least be spared the sight of his mother dying as his new mother took him away to a whole new life.

  chapter 1

  1990 - COSMIC JONES

  The day that changed our world forever started out like any other normal Sunday.

  The dawn broke through the night sky as Miles Clermont set about his daily routine. The family land was large and set to farming, a generational pursuit that unfortunately was about to end with his son Simon setting his own sights away from the land.

  The land had been good to his family and made them wealthy. He had been a shrewd business man and had acquired many of his neighbours’ properties as they faltered. He was a self-made millionaire, but his working class roots were being slowly washed away from his son’s private education.

  It was a sad thought that there would be no one to carry on the Clermont tradition, but right now, there were cows to milk and they were already growing restless as their agitated moos testified to.

  He exited the large stone farmhouse, his breath still visible as the cold refused to let its grip of the darkness go without a fight. He rubbed his hands together fiercely amidst the bitter chill. At 48, he knew that gloves were on the horizon in the near future, but his machismo was buried deep in his foundations, and he wouldn’t be caught wearing them just yet.

  He was a large man with a strength born of working the land. His red hair told a tale of Celtic roots and his beard told a tale of little in the way of vanity.