The Runestone

From the Rock of Law sing me loud
Undo the doom of Ragnarok.
Gods may fall and Midgard may freeze,
but life shall stir across the seas.

Chapter 28: The Runestone

The thin light of the dawn lime-washed the rooftops of Gimli. The day was overcast – the same iron grey cover of cloud – but it was day. Eddy rubbed his eyes and yawned. It had been a long night. He must have fallen asleep – his body was wrapped up in the blanket, stiff from lying on the floor. He tried to move and got cramp.

‘Got your beauty sleep?’

His grandfather lent by the window, bins trained on the street below, rifle propped up next to him.

‘Yowch!’ Eddy moved his leg and regretted it. Cramp! He tried to rub some life back into it. ‘When did I fall asleep?’

‘A couple of hours ago. Good job I didn’t. Guess you would claim it was your crossing. Still wiped out from it…’ The old man reached down and tossed him the flask. ‘Not surprised. Here. There’s still a swig left.’

Eddy smiled. Perhaps the old man was thawing out a little. He had spent a good hour relating his adventures. Running Bear had been sceptical and full of questions and sarcastic remarks, but eventually got caught up in the narrative. Hearing how his grandson had endured the long ride, he even sounded mildly impressed by the end. Something in him had shifted over night. He looked at Eddy properly for the first time, as the daylight flooded the lighthouse.

‘Perhaps you’re not such a waste of space after all.’

Eddy gulped down the dregs of the coffee with a grimace. It had gone cold.

‘Come on. We need to get that doc to the health centre. You were on a mission, remember!’

Running Bear took his rifle and headed down the staircase.

Eddy struggled to his feet and followed.

‘Well, well. Up with the larks. I don’t think I’ve ever known you to get up this early!’ marvelled his sister, who was up and about, pulling on her coat. ‘Unless you had been on an all-nighter and were staggering in I normally don’t see you until midday.’

‘Good morning to you, sis!’

‘How’s doc?’ asked Running Bear.

‘I’ll live,’ groaned the doctor, stretching as he pulled himself up out of the chair. ‘But what about you? How’s that rib?’

‘As tender as a Comodo special, but I’m walking.’

‘We’ll get you some painkillers at the centre.’

Running Bear tried the door, leaking light into the reception.

‘Do you think it’s safe, grandfather?’ asked Siggy.

‘Safer than night-time. This is our best shot. Are you coming?’

‘I bet they’ll have some kind of breakfast going, back at the hall…’ mused Eddy, dreamily.

‘You’ve talked me into it!’ laughed Siggy. ‘An army marches on its stomach! Lead on, granf!’

They made their way through the lifeless, snow-bound streets. The compacted snow, frozen over night, had been churned up by hooves, and was stained with what looked like oil.

‘Least we know they can bleed,’ said Eddy.

‘Doesn’t look like any blood I know,’ observed the doctor, kneeling down to inspect it. He touched a bit with his gloved finger and it stuck and stretched like tar.

‘What are we going to do about this fella?’ called Running Bear, standing over the mauled body of the man on the stretcher.

‘Cover him over with snow for now. We’ll have to come back. Our immediate priority is to the living,’ said the doctor, breathing a cloud.

Running Bear started kicking snow over the body. Eddy helped and Siggy cast about for a marker. She returned with a broom handle from the smashed in store. They stuck it in the ground and stood in silence for a moment.

‘Come on. Got to keep moving!’

Running Bear led them up to the Fifth Avenue. They covered the bodies of the other two patches, marking them with a roadwork sign, then turned left, heading to the Health Centre.

It was eerie, walking along the usually busy avenue – the only sound, crunching snow and their breathing. A lone bird cried out over head and they all froze.

‘Albatross. Had to be.’ Running Bear grunted, carrying on. Every now and then he held his side, but his pace was relentless.

‘Hey, look!’ Siggy knelt down and picked up a slipper.

‘Mrs Clutterbuck…’ observed the doctor remotely, subdued with the shock of it all.

‘Looks like they got her too…’ said Eddy.

They scanned the street but could see no body.

They made it to the health centre and the doctor fumbled with his keys. The doors were half-frozen shut and they had to force them open.

Inside the temperature was almost normal. They opened up their jackets. Siggy gave the doctor a hand, loading up a trolley. Eddy became interested in the vending machine. He tried a coin but nothing happened.

‘Damn!’ he kicked the front of it and made the candy bars rattle on their hooks.

‘Here.’ Running Bear produced his hunting knife and slid it down the side of the machine. With a yank he jimmied it open. ‘Load up. I’m sure the folks back at the hall will appreciate the extra supplies.’

Eddy found a laundry bag. Emptied out the sheets and filled it full of the snacks and bottles.

Siggy and the Doc returned with the trolley. The doctor carried his case too. ‘We’ve got all the essentials. Hey, have you been stealing candy, young man?’

‘Got a sweet tooth, doc.’

The doctor grumbled, but led them out of the building, locking it behind him.

With Siggy pushing the trolley carefully over the uneven frozen snow and Eddy lugging the sack they made their way to the hall.

Running Bear walked briefly with Eddy. ‘Once we’ve delivered this lot, there’s a place I want to take you.’

The reaction when they made it back to the sports hall was mixed. It clearly had not been an easy night and tempers were frayed. The initial relief at their return – laden down with supplies – was somewhat muted when folk realised not all of them had made it.

‘Where are my bloods?’ demanded BZ.

‘I’m sorry. We couldn’t save them. The raiders…’ said the doctor.

‘They went down guns blazing, Wendigo,’ offered Eddy.

BZ lifted him up by his lapels. ‘What the fuck? You were meant to be saving my man. The others were just riding shotgun. How do I know you didn’t just kill them yourself?’ he fumed in Eddy’s face.

A safety catch being flipped made him flick his eyes – his head prevented from turning from the rifle barrel placed against it. ‘Let go of my grandson.’

BZ dropped Eddy, back away, hands up. ‘Easy, grandpa.’   

‘Your men died bravely. The raiders ran them down on the junction of Five and Central. They headed to the sea – which was lucky for them. I was holed up in the Lighthouse. Saw ’em coming. Was able to pick off a couple and scare the rest away. Your bloods bought them time. If not for them you wouldn’t have the doc here, with his meds and know-how.’

BZ cricked his neck. ‘Where are their bodies…?’ he asked, voice low.

‘In the snow, on Central. We marked them. As good as any deep freeze, for now.’

‘What about foxes and shit?’

‘Nothing’s moving out there, son,’ said the doctor. ‘But if you want to take a burial party out, be my guest.’

‘Just be back before nightfall,’ added Running Bear. ‘Those raiders will be back, and we need all the firepower we can muster.’

BZ spat on the floor. ‘Me and my crew will run by the clubhouse. We’ll be back before dark.’ He nodded to his remaining men.

They watched them go, and the tension in the hall eased a little.

‘Thank you, grandfather.’

The old man shrugged. ‘Get some breakfast in you. It’s a long walk ahead.’ 

As Eddy followed his grandfather away from the hall, he couldn’t help but smile, thinking back to his sister’s comment as he queued up for the scratch breakfast. ‘So you and grandpa – broken the ice at last?’ she asked, as she loaded up her tray with the random selection.

Eddy shrugged. ‘Looks like it. Nothing like life and death situations to make you re-evaluate your priorities. Perhaps he’s realised life’s too short and I’m not such a waster after all.’

‘I must admit, even I’m a little bit impressed with you lately – but don’t let it go to your head. You’ve got a long way to go to get to grandfather’s level.’

‘Hell, I’m not even going to try! That man is a legend! See how he dealt with the raiders! Clint Eastwood, eat your heart out!’

`Eat up!’ Running Bear growled. ‘We need to get the snowbikes.’

‘Where we going?’

The old man nodded inland. ‘To my shack.’

Eddy had known about his grandfather’s hunting hut for a long while but hadn’t been invited to it since he was a boy. He had fond memories of going there on long trips out into the back-country – fishing, birding. Learning skills. Running Bear had so much knowledge but no one to pass it onto. He’d given his daughter a healthy grounding in wilderness skills, which had manifested in her lifetime study of herbal lore; but Eddy sensed he’d always wanted a son to share the hunting trips with. When Eddy discovered booze, weed, girls and rock’n’roll he lost interest, and his grandfather’s respect.

Only now, fourteen years later, was he finally joining his grandfather again.

He had strayed from the Red Road a long time… Nothing can bring back those lost years, he reflected. There is only now.  What we choose to do. How we act.

He resolved: time to make it count.

They made their way back to the house, and together forced open the garage doors. The two snow-mobiles took some warming up, but they were soon on their way.

The cabin was set back discreetly in its own little cove – overlooking the lake, but high enough above the shoreline not to be pestered by the midges. Hidden by pine trees, it would be almost impossible to spot from the water, or from the surrounding open country, until you were almost on top of it. When they pulled into the clearing in front of it, they discovered it half buried under snow, and spent a good hour clearing a way to the door, clearing the chimney stack and windows, before even opening the front door.

The cabin was dark inside, and chilly. But with a pot of coffee on the brew and the log-burner crackly away, it soon cheered up. 

Eddy sat down in the rickety old chair opposite his grandfather’s rocking chair with a sigh. It had been too long. The smell of place alone was enough to stir memories – herbs drying from the rafters, a cured ham, gun oil, damp clothes drying out, boots stuffed with newspaper and tubs of bait, mingled with the smell of the coffee.   

Running Bear rummaged about the seemingly random piles of kit, digging his way to a set of drawers buried beneath.

He pulled these to one side, and jimmied up a floorboard. With a groan of effort and pain he extricated something from underneath wrapped in an oilcloth.

‘Damn rib!’ Out of breath, he placed it between them on the rug before the fire, poured them both a tin mug of Joe. Handing one to his grandson, he finally sat down.   

For a while he sat watching the flames in the log burner, sipping his coffee.

Eddy knew better than to poke, so he just sat and waited.

The old man loaded up a couple more logs, and shut the door of the burner. ‘There was this explorer … a French Canadian fella named, let’s get this right: Pierre Gaultier de Varennes et de La Vérendrye. In the seventeen thirties he was out busy exploring west of the Great Lakes when he discovered an old stone carved with runes. He brought it back with him, but it was, ahem, mysteriously lost before it was transcribed. For centuries scholars have been speculating about it. Was it real? A hoax? The consequence of a marsh fever? An infection to the brain?’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘Hmm. Let them think what they want. I know different. It was ‘found’ by my ancestors – who took exception to this Frenchie taking what wasn’t his – kept it in their tribe for generations, passing it down from father to son, mother to daughter, until eventually old Running Bear here received it. And now, grandson, it’s time to pass it to you – a descendant of my line, but also of the New Icelanders.  Eddy Leif Redcrow, the so-called Vérendrye Runestone belongs to you now. Time for it to fulfil its destiny.’

Running Bear nodded to the oilcloth.

Eddy put down his mug, and nervously lifted back the flaps, to reveal the stone, its runic inscription catching the firelight. Looking closer he could make out strange drawings to, which he traced lightly with his index finger.

‘Do you know what it all means, grandfather?’

‘That’s for your friends to figure out. But see that warrior with the hammer fighting the serpent? Another battling with a wolf, losing a hand? The boat made of bones? I suspect it has something to do with what’s happening at the moment.’

Eddy’s eyes glistened. ‘Thank you, grandfather…’ He climbed over to him and gave the old man a hug.

‘Enough! We need to start back soon before we lose the light. I’ll just sort out my hunting kit – some of it may come in handy. We’ll head off in one hour, tops. Keep it safe, grandson. I’ve got a feeling it’s got an important role to play. It has travelled a long way through time and now its hour is fast approaching.’

***

Extract of Thunder Road by Kevan Manwaring

Copyright (c) Kevan Manwaring 2020