“Look momma, it’s the witch!” A little girl in pigtails and a faded pink dress pointed at Liv from a few feet away.
Liv sighed and pretended not to notice as she pulled a gallon of milk from the aged refrigerated section, noticing its cool condensation against her skin. She’d had to endure these whispers and pointed fingers since she and her husband had settled in this small Missouri town with its brick houses, white picket fences, and streets that always smelled faintly of baked pies and fresh hay.
The hum of the supermarket's fluorescent lights overhead merged with the distant chatters of other shoppers. The linoleum tiles beneath Liv's feet showed signs of wear, reflecting the age of this small town store; its wooden shelves stocked with a mix of popular brands and local goods.
The girl’s mother, a mousy woman in a floral sundress that had seen better days, shushed her. She pulled her away, their shoes echoing softly on the tiles. They quickly made their way past a row of canned goods, and towards the entrance with its small, tinkling bell. The mother glanced back, fear evident in her eyes, almost as if she thought that Liv might, at any moment, cast a spell on them.
Liv, pausing next to a rack of fresh, local apples, smiled gently as her hand roamed over her stomach. She’d just taken the test a few weeks earlier and found that she was pregnant. A witch? Her eyes crinkled in humor at the thought. No, she was no witch. Yet, in this town where everyone went to the same church every Sunday, and where traditions were held dear, she may as well have been.
She and her husband, Bjorn, were the last of their kind. The last members of the Order of Odin. A group that had existed for thousands of years, dedicated to remembering the old gods of long dead Vikings. Once a proud congregation, they would be remembered only in dusty historical halls, if they were remembered at all. They’d always been a small group of worshippers, but something had been hunting them. A shadow of the evils that Odin and his kin had stood against. One after another they fell, and now only Liv and Bjorn remained.
Bjorn, with his strong build and gentle eyes, knew their time was dwindling. The force, or perhaps someone, hunting their order wouldn’t rest until they, too, joined the annals of history. Yet, they would not abandon their faith or their heritage. For now, they would keep moving, seeking refuge in town after town, until their baby was born. After that... come what may.
***
Dr. Henson plopped down on the sofa in the break room at Golden Heart Hospital in Jefferson City. A soft hum of a muted television played in the background, and the faint aroma of disinfectant mingled with freshly brewed coffee. He would have much preferred to be anywhere but the hospital, but, having drawn the short straw yet again, he was tasked with the swing shift as the resident obstetrician on site.
He leaned back, letting his eyes drift shut for a brief moment. Cracking open the coke can, he took a satisfying sip, relishing the brief respite. He had just a few precious minutes before his duties would pull him back to his expectant mothers. For some inexplicable reason, night seemed to be a popular time for babies to make their grand entrance.
His moment or peace was cut short as the intercom blared, “Dr. Henson to operating room one.” His eyes shot open, a crease forming on his brow. Operating room? That was never a good sign.
Abandoning his coke and leaving behind the distant hum of the TV, Dr. Henson swiftly navigated the hospital's corridors to the operating room. The scene was abuzz. Nurses, already prepped and gloved, exchanged worried glances.
“What's the situation?” Dr. Henson inquired as he slid into the staging area.
Nurse Bronson handed him a bar of soap. Her usual calm demeanor now showed cracks of concern. “A man rushed his wife in, saying she's in labor. The ER doc sent her straight to us.”
Dr. Henson’s brows knitted further. “You've assisted in countless deliveries, Nora. What’s different this time?”
Nurse Bronson hesitated, "This woman came in with a flat stomach. An hour later, it looked like she was about to deliver. And during the emergency ultrasound... the baby seemed to grow. Right there on the monitor. In all my years, I've never seen anything like it.”
Stunned, water dripping from his still-soapy hands, Henson managed to ask, “Could the equipment be malfunctioning?”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Bronson shook her head, her seriousness unwavering. “That was my initial thought. But we double-checked. Everything's working perfectly.”
Dr. Henson blinked and shook his head, before continuing his scrubbing. He’d seen some odd things during his career, but if Nurse Bronson was correct, this might be something he’d be writing about in medical journals.
***
Bjorn had his head in his hands as he sat in the waiting room. His leg tapped a nervous beat as he waited for news on Liv and their baby. This shouldn’t be happening. Everything had been normal until last night. It had been the Midwinter Solstice and they’d kept to their tradition of honoring their ancestors.
They’d been sitting around a fire and chanting when the fire had flared up and turned into a...hole. He wasn’t much of a scientist, but he could remember his middle school teacher showing the classroom pictures of black holes and the way that the gravitational pull was so strong that light would get sucked into it. He couldn’t remember much of it, just the fire and a...pull. He’d never been so scared.
When he’d woken up just a few minutes later, Liv had been rolling on the ground screaming in pain. He’d rushed her to the small town emergency room and they’d flown her out right away to Jefferson City.
“Allfather...” Bjorn mumbled a prayer to Odin under his breath. “Please save her. She’s all I have in this world.”
***
Dr. Henson pulled a child from the stomach of an unconscious Liv. The baby let out an ungodly wail as a massive baby boy let his displeasure known to everyone around.
***
A few months later Bjorn hurried Liv along. “Faster darling...it’s coming.”
Liv pushed herself harder, but each step was agony. They’d been unable to stay still long enough to let her body heal and time's passage seemed unable to knit together her broken body. They’d known that whatever had caused their son to come into the world the way that he had would cause scrutiny by officials so they’d snuck him out of the hospital in the dead of night. Ever since they could feel darkness gathering around them. They’d caught glimpses of claws and red eyes in dark forests and dim alleys.
Finally, they reached their destination. A fire station. As they left the basket on the steps a warm breeze gusted around them rustling the pages of the note they left pinned to the breast of the baby boy. His name is Elric. He’s 3 months old.
***
11-Year-old Elric sat kicking his heels at the principal’s office. He was already as tall as most of the teachers, and head and shoulders above any of the other kids there. His head hung down as his eyes danced across the checkered floor. Shaggy blonde hair hung around his ears and hid his storm gray eyes from the secretary sitting at her desk a few feet away from him.
He hadn’t meant to hurt Tim. He’d just pushed him to make him stop. Elric wished he could be like the other kids, but none of them wanted to be his friend. Just because he didn’t have a mom and dad like the rest of them, didn’t mean that he didn’t want friends.
The other kids made fun of the way that he looked and the way that he dressed. His foster parents spent the money that the government gave them on their own kids and dressed him in worn and tattered clothing that they found at thrift stores, or even worse, hand-downs from other older kids.
A few days later, Elric was packing his bags on the way back to a group home. His foster parents had told him he was a bad influence on their kids and they didn’t want someone dangerous living with them.
As he sat down on the bed and looked around the empty room he sighed softly. Nobody had ever wanted him to stay with them for very long. He knew it was his fault, but he didn’t know how to stop. He ate too much, was too big and played too rough. He’d had some foster parents tell him that they didn’t make any money on him and that he wasn’t worth it.
His lip quivered as he rubbed his fists against his eyes, dashing the tears away before they could fall. He sniffed and took a deep breath.
“Come on bud.” His foster dad, Arthur, opened the door and motioned to him. “Your social worker is here to pick you up.”
Elric stood up slowly and chewed the side of his cheek. “I’ll never do it again,” he muttered.
Arthur leaned forward. “What was that?”
Elric cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. “I’ll never do it again! I promise I’ll be good! I’ll never fight, and I... I won’t eat as much! I promise you’ll be glad if you keep me.”
“Oh boy...”
Elric looked on hopefully as Arthur rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.
“Sit down son. Let’s talk.”
Elric felt his heart leap as Arthur called him ‘son’. He liked Arthur, more than any foster parent he’d ever had. He didn’t like his wife, Sarah, at all, but Arthur had always been nice to him. He’d even let him go fishing with him once and they’d talked about all sorts of things. No one else ever did that.
He sat down eagerly and smiled as Arthur sat next to him and put his arm around him. “Elric, you’re a good boy. I know you don’t hear that very often, but it’s true.” Arthur chuckled softly. “We’re not sending you back because you eat too much food.”
Elric smiled as Arthur took a deep breath and continued. “You can’t stay.” Elric felt his smile slip as his heart dropped into his chest. He looked down again, away from Arthur's eyes.
“If it were up to me, I’d keep you in a heartbeat, but Sarah isn’t comfortable having you here, and I have to be a good husband and father and make sure my family feels safe.”
Elric just nodded dumbly as he mentally checked out. He was about to hear the “just give it time and you’ll find the right family for you,” speech. He’d heard it more times than any other kids he knew, and he’d stopped believing it a long time ago. He didn’t hear much more of what Arthur said, but he knew the real reason they were getting rid of him. He made himself a promise that he’d never fight again. No matter what.