A Hero’s Welcome

A soft clinking to his left grabbed Garrett’s attention. When he turned toward the sound, he found the old school pineapple grenade of the insurgents, pin pulled and no time to think. With a whispered prayer, he smothered it with his body, shielding his team from the blast. Just as his torso exploded into searing pain, the world went dark.

He opened his eyes to a sparkling golden ceiling. Where was he? Squinting against the glare, he counted hundreds of tiles. No, not tiles. Golden shields? He bolted to a sitting position, expecting pain and found none. Shit. Pain meant life. He didn’t regret his act, fully aware he had saved lives, but now he was dead. Or, maybe he was drugged. Pain medication could take away pain and cause hallucinations, couldn’t it?

He leaned back on his elbows against the cold marble floor, taking in his surroundings. Wherever he was seemed to be built entirely from dark wood, save for the floor and ceiling. Down a massive corridor, he found what appeared to be a banquet hall of sorts, long wooden tables with benches and chairs surrounding them. Something about it was familiar, but he didn’t know why.

He heard her before he saw her. The only other person in the room, she was dressed in leather armor and carrying a spear. Finally all the pieces fell into place. He was in Valhalla, a Valkyrie coming toward him, her blonde hair in intricate braids, her face indescribably beautiful. He was to become a member of the Einherjar. He shook his head. Not only was he dead, he was headed to Valhalla? He might have been raised Lutheran in Minnesota, but he knew the old tales. He shook his head. No, those were myths, not truth. Valhalla, Valkyries? He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again. Nope, he was still on a white marble floor staring up at a Valkyrie. Drugs. He had to be on some kick-ass drugs.

“Sergeant Garrett Poulsen, son of Oliver and Marietta Poulsen, grandson of Stefan and Brenna Poulsen, come with me.” Her voice was softer than he expected, her Scandinavian accent evident.

Make that fucking amazing drugs. This woman, this Valkyrie, was breathtaking. He might be dead, or think he was dead, or whatever, but parts of his body didn’t care.