The Last Hunter - Collected Edition by Jeremy Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

think that’s why they named me, Ull?”
    “I have no doubt.”
    “Why?”
    He laughs at this. “Because I gave you the name.”
    This has me stunned. Dr. Merrill Clark named me? Ull, the god of winter. It sounds unbelievable, but now that I’m thinking about it, it makes too much sense. My father has very little interest in ancient cultures, religions or history in general. He’s more concerned with capturing the here and now on film. But Dr. Clark, he’s an anthropologist who has written extensively on the ancient religions of the world, including the Norse gods. He’s telling the truth.
    The insanity of all this has me shaken. For a moment, I understand why Mom and Dad kept all this from me. It’s so...unbelievable. So strange, even for me. If not for my experience with the Antarctic stone in my father’s safe, I might have discounted everything Clark said. But if it’s true...
    I shake my head. Though I have a thousand more questions, I feel overwhelmed and need to process what I’ve heard. So I whittle my queries down to one and ask, “My parents kept this from me my whole life. Why are you telling me now?”
    “To prepare you.”
    “For what?”
    “In case it happens again.”

 
     
    6
     
    I spend the next two flights getting to know Merrill, Aimee and Mira in a kind of round robin rotation where everyone switches seats and either strikes up a new conversation or continues an unfinished one. I’m sitting with Mira now, and it’s dark, so she’s sleeping, but I’m wide awake. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been more awake in my life.
    Not only am I on a small plane over a very, very cold ocean between Peru and Antarctica, not only am I sitting next to a girl whose presence still has me feeling funny, not only am I going home to Antarctica, but I’m now also afraid that the whole continent will explode beneath my feet the moment I step down from the plane.
    I’ve had sixteen conversations since my first with Dr. Clark and not one could distract me from his account of my birth. So much so that I can’t remember long portions of those conversations. Me, the kid with the perfect memory, can’t remember! I must have tuned them out entirely.
    For a moment I worry if I made a bad impression somewhere along the way. Maybe I stared dumbfounded while someone spoke? Maybe I drooled like I was in some kind of vegetative state?
    According to the kids at school, that’s what I look like all the time, so I decide not to worry about it.
    A yawn grips my body. When it lets go, I’m exhausted. I look around the cabin. Mira isn’t the only one asleep. Aimee and my parents are too. The only one who’s not is Merrill. He’s staring out his window.
    I wonder what he’s looking at. It’s dark outside, so there shouldn’t be much of a view, and he’s looking down, not up, so he can’t be looking at the moon. He’s suddenly aware of me. He motions toward my window. He wants me to look. But Mira has the shade drawn.
    I look back to Merrill. He’s insistent so I know there’s something worth seeing, and I know he won’t mind that I have to lean over his daughter to look. I reach over and raise the shade. Darkness fills the window. Just like I thought.
    I lean forward, trying not wake Mira, but her nappy hair has exploded into a blond pompom around her head that is impossible to avoid. I pause, expecting her to wake up, but she remains asleep. I press my face against the window and look toward the front of the plane. At first I see nothing, but then, with my eyes adjusted to the dark, a wall of white emerges. Antarctica is just ahead, glowing in the moonlight like a continent-sized ghost. Beyond the sheet of white, an arc of dark blue fills the sky. The day is coming.
    I’m dazzled by the sight for a moment. Until my fears return. Then I feel like I’m going to puke. I feel the same way when I go to the dentist. I sit in the chair, eyeing the room for any signs of drills or needles. If I see them,