Thor's Child ©

by K Pelle

Prologue

Shakespeare wrote: "What's in a name?  that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet . . ."

And yet, would it?  And if it would, can the same be said for a man, or does the name make the man?  There are times I wonder.  For instance I know of a man who was given the name of a pagan god and from the time he was born, his life was anything but normal . . .


The weather during the last two weeks of May had been extremely warm in the southeastern portion of Saskatchewan that year.  Olga Eklund, a local farmer's wife, found her pregnancy almost unbearable because of that heat.  On the 28th of May she went for a scheduled visit with her doctor, who examined her, then advised her not to go home and instead he confined her to a hospital bed.  Which meant her husband, Ollie, drove the twenty miles back to their home alone. Once there, he had to explain to their three children that Mama was staying in the hospital for a few days while she waited for the baby to come.  Thankfully he and his wife had made friends in the neighbourhood who could help him care for the children when they weren't in school.

At 12:30PM, on the afternoon of June 1st Olga went into labour and was moved to the delivery room of the hospital.  Within moments, her husband had been phoned and warned that the birth of his fourth child was imminent.  Pausing only long enough to call his nearest neighbours and warn them of the upcoming birth, Ollie leapt into his pickup truck and raced along country roads to attend his wife.  He'd already been assured that his neighbours would stop the school bus to intercept his two sons and only daughter, then would see that they were cared for if he returned late.

As Ollie raced toward the town of Gopher Creek, he could see a menacing storm cloud approaching from the opposite direction and frowned, hoping he wasn't driving into a hail storm.  His crops needed rain, not hail, but he was pragmatic, certain that his family would survive no matter what the weather did.  When he was only a mile from the town he realized that his hopes concerning the weather had been for nothing as he saw flashes of lightning and sheets of falling hail issue from the churning black cloud.  He jerked in surprise as one jagged streak of light even seemed to strike the tallest building in town, the very hospital where he was headed.

Moments later though, he shook his head in wonder as he drove into the hospital parking lot.  The hail seemed to have stopped as if a tap had been shut off and the huge, black stormcloud appeared to be breaking up.  Although he was a recent arrival to the prairies, he knew that wasn't normal, but right then he had other concerns.  After parking his pickup truck, he ran to the hospital entrance through the easing rain.  As he entered the building he was met by turmoil as people raced through the hallways in ordered confusion, but he paused at the information and admissions desk to ask about his wife.

"One moment, please, sir!  The hospital was struck by lightning a few moments ago and we're very busy trying to find out just what was damaged!" the harried woman behind the desk barked.

As he stood waiting, he overheard that a child had been born during the storm and that a bolt of lightning had struck the hospital at the precise instant the baby gave out his first cry.  Some whispered that the child was the victim of an electrical shock, yet others laughed and said it was just the shock of birth, while others chided that the kid was only complaining about the doctor's cold hands.  The superstitious mentioned that all the lights and everything electrical in the maternity ward died with that lightning strike, while the rest of the hospital was completely untouched.  Others just laughed, suggesting that the lightning rods on the hospital were probably ineffective, but that one was directly above the maternity ward, so it was natural that the fuses would blow.

To make things even stranger, he was told that while the child was being checked over and cleaned up, the storm continued to rage.  But, the moment the boy was held to his mother's breast the storm stopped, then quietly faded away.  In moments the wind calmed, the rain eased, the hail quit falling, the thunder and lightning died away and the clouds quietly drifted off and disappeared.  Now many were shaking their heads and saying that hailstorms in the middle of the Canadian prairies simply do not act that way.  One superstitious old Norwegian woman who worked at the hospital as a cleaning lady even called the boy, 'Thor's child,' after the old Norse god of thunder and lightning.

Both Ollie and his wife, Olga were Swedish immigrants and the birth of their son definitely had been memorable.  They felt he deserved a name that celebrated his unusual birthday, so their newborn son was named Tor, a Swedish variation of the name Thor.  One rumour had it that they really were honouring the old Gods, but another stated they saw the humour in the situation and went along with the joke that nature had played on the child.  A third rumour implied they had taken the easy way out, because they had really been hoping for another daughter and didn't have a name chosen for their newborn son.  Years later there were those who wondered if that old cleaning woman had foreseen the future, bestowing both a blessing and a curse upon that newborn babe.


Tor was the fourth and last child of the family and as the youngest, was often fawned over by his older siblings, so for some time he was spoiled, willful and temperamental.  Luckily he grew out of that condition fairly soon and had a happy childhood, developing quickly into a friendly, intelligent child.  As he aged, he found school to be a delight and if he was given a book of any kind, he would happily immerse himself for hours on end in the imaginary worlds created by others.  In fact, he had an almost insatiable curiosity about anything and everything.  If people were willing to teach him, Tor was willing to listen, but liars bothered him.  Discovering that someone had lied to him was one of the few times when he would show his temper.  A second annoyance was having people mispronounce his name, since as a Swede, the 'H' in Thor is silent, he insisted that his name had to be pronounced as 'Tor.'  Eventually he even began to spell it 'properly' so people wouldn't make a mistake.

His teachers and fellow students at school soon learned that he didn't like having people mispronounce his name.  Many classmates who thought to tease him about his name soon found that he was just as skilled with his fists as with his tongue and he was willing and able to return just as much as he received, perhaps even a bit more.  He was smaller and younger than most when he started school, so some tried to bully him, but that soon changed.  You see as well as going to school, he learned to work hard and put in long hours in the fields and barns, just like any other child from a farm family.  When he hit puberty, he grew to be one of the tallest students in his class and overnight his life changed, not just physically either.

Tor turned thirteen in early June of the year puberty affected him and by his birthday he was over five feet tall.  That was also the year his mother and father decided that they were going to sell their farm and move from Saskatchewan to British Columbia.  Physical development and moving from his childhood home weren't the only problems Tor had to contend with however, he also found he was developing a few astonishing mental abilities.

The astounding thing about those abilities was that each of them appeared almost fully developed and they each appeared instantaneously.  Learning to control them was a different kettle of fish however, in fact for a while they almost seemed as if they were liabilities, not assets.  The first abilities to appear probably saved his life, but they appeared during a very traumatic situation because of the circumstances which brought about their initial development.


Tor was helping his Uncle Nils pull stumps in one of his pastures not long after he'd moved to BC.  The two of them used axes, mattocks and shovels to dig around the stumps and cut off the lateral roots growing near the surface of the ground.  Then they'd use his uncle's old John Deere tractor and a chain to snap off the tap root and rip the stump out of the ground.  At least that was standard practise until they came across one huge stump which took most of one day just to dig out and clear of lateral roots.  Finally though, they thought they had everything ready for the big pull and Tor fastened the logging chain in place.  His uncle got on the tractor, dropped the transmission of that old two-lung John Deere into low gear and began to ease in the hand clutch to start pulling the stump.

For some reason Tor had chosen to stand on the hitch of the tractor, facing back toward the stump even though he knew that if that chain broke he could be killed as it snapped back.  In fact, just as the tractor began to move he had a vision of that chain snapping and literally envisioned the end of a ten-foot section of logging chain hurtling right at his chest.  At the same time he knew that if he jumped clear, that broken chain would hit his uncle in the back of his head and Tor was certain it would kill him.  He could virtually foresee his uncle's head exploding.  Then he heard(?), saw(?), felt(?) the chain snap and saw(?), knew(?), realized(?) that it was coming toward them.  He couldn't describe the sensation – there are no words for the feeling since it wasn't one of the five 'normal' senses.

Tor didn't recall doing it, but afterward, his Uncle Nils swore Tor spun around, grabbed him under his armpits, then both of them were on the ground and off to one side of the tractor.  Somehow Tor landed on his feet – twenty feet from the tractor – while his uncle landed on his butt right beside him, but neither of them fell hard.  At that time Tor was thirteen years old, a bit over five feet tall and might have weighed a hundred and fifteen pounds – if he was wearing all his clothing and a pair of heavy boots.  His Uncle Nils was nearly fifty years old, six foot six inches tall and weighed nearly three times as much as Tor did.  Tor couldn't lift him, let alone throw him, and certainly couldn't carry him twenty feet.

"Vhat da Hell happendt?" Uncle Nils growled, as he looked up at Tor.

Tor turned and stared at the tractor, the broken chain, and the stump.  He had heard(?), saw(?), felt(?) the stump snap off an instant before he'd heard(?), saw(?), felt(?) the chain break.  Then he'd seen(?), felt(?) the broken piece of chain rip right through the tractor seat and he'd heard(?), felt(?) it smash against the steering wheel of the tractor.  The tractor was still sitting there though, right where it had been, it wasn't rolling ahead and it wasn't running fast.  It was just going pop, pop, pop, pop, the same way any old Johnny Popper would do when it was idling, but a few seconds before Uncle Nils had increased the throttle speed and dropped in the clutch.  Instead of sitting there idling quietly, by rights that tractor should have been racing away, dragging that broken chunk of chain behind it.

That wasn't why he was staring at the tractor though.  Something about Tor's senses had changed.  He wasn't just staring at an old green painted machine, suddenly he could virtually sense what was happening inside that old tractor engine.  He could see the magneto spin, generating the electrical charges that became the sparks in the spark plugs.  He could see the gasoline flow from the tank, mix with air in the carburetor, pass through the intake manifold and the intake valves, then explode inside the cylinders.  He could see the pistons move in the cylinders when the gas and air mixture exploded and he could see the connecting rods force the crankshaft to turn, then spin the clutch.  In some unbelievably strange manner he could sense exactly what was happening so clearly that he could feel it, see it, touch it, taste it, hear it - or something.  He didn't have a name for the way he was able to sense all those parts or how he could tell what they were doing, how they fit together, and how they worked.  It was a completely unreal feeling and . . .

The whole concept of seeing through cast iron and steel, added to the adrenaline dump from their close call was just too much for him to take and he slowly slumped to the ground in astonishment, simply too stunned to even sit upright.

"Tor, are you hurt?" Uncle Nils leaned over and grasped Tor's shoulder as he looked into Tor's eyes.

Tor managed to open his eyes and glance up at him, but just looking at his uncle was . . . even more weird.  Somehow he could see what was happening beneath his uncle's skin, then inside his eyes – even inside his skull.  The sight of the blood pulsing through the veins and arteries as they twisted and curled around the convolutions of his uncle's brain were as clear as the mechanical intricacies of the tractor had been.

That sight was just too much for him to handle right then though.

Later when he considered what had happened, he decided his brain had overloaded and 'blown a fuse,' or something similar, at that point.  Suddenly he couldn't see, hear, feel or sense anything.  He didn't know exactly what happened to him then, but later he speculated that he must have blacked out.


When he awoke, he was lying in the bed he'd been using while staying with his Uncle Nils and Aunt Hanna.  He wasn't sure how he knew he was in their spare bedroom, because he hadn't opened his eyes, but somehow he knew where he was.  He was feeling slightly apprehensive, worried that when he opened his eyes he'd once again have 'x-ray' vision, or whatever it was that had happened previously.  Then he realized that he could hear his aunt and uncle talking, and yet he knew they were in the kitchen, probably fifty feet away from him.  Not only that, but they were whispering and they were whispering in Swedish.  He knew they had to be speaking Swedish, because normally Uncle Nils had an extremely thick accent when he spoke English, but right then Uncle Nils didn't seem to have any accent at all.  At the same time, although he wasn't fluent in the Swedish language, Tor recognised a few phrases, only somehow - he was now able understand every word they said.

Yet he knew hearing and comprehension of that sort wasn't normal.  He was even more worried about controlling what was happening to him - even though he covered his ears with his hands he could still hear his aunt and uncle's private conversation.  That sent a shiver down his spine.  Suddenly he was certain that he wasn't hearing them with his ears, instead he was certain that he was actually listening to their thoughts because no matter what he did he couldn't shut out their conversation.  At that point he began to worry about his sanity, and yet he wondered what his Uncle Nils thought of what happened, so even though it felt wrong, he listened.

"But just what happened, Nils?  Why are you so upset?  After all, neither of you is injured and the tractor isn't badly damaged." Aunt Hanna said softly.

"That's just it, Hanna, I don't know what happened.  I heard the chain snap, but before I could even duck out of the way, I was falling on my ass, and I was about thirty feet away from the tractor.  Tor had been standing behind me on the tractor hitch, but suddenly he was standing at my side and we were both looking at the tractor!" Tor 'heard' Uncle Nils sigh heavily.  "I had just opened the throttle and thrown in the clutch, so when the chain broke the tractor should have run off and had an accident, but it was just sitting there, and it was idling.  I didn't pull the clutch out of gear or push in the throttle, so how did that happen?  It just doesn't make sense, woman.  Tor and I stared at the whole thing for a minute, then he just crumpled as if he was hit over the head.  I looked for bumps or cuts on his head, then checked his pulse and temperature, but he seemed okay so I brought him home.  Now you know as much as me, which is really nothing."

"Could he have grabbed you and jumped?"

"Hanna, look at him once.  He is thin as a stick and he has the muscles of a chicken, but that's because he is becoming a man now and grew tall so fast.  He's clumsy yet, since his brain and muscles haven't caught up to the size of his bones.  The way he is now, he couldn't pick up one of my boots without dropping it twice, so there is no way he would be lifting me up and moving me."

"But when you came in, you said he grabbed you under the arms, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, but he didn't lift me.  It was like he was frightened and wanted a hug or something.  Nothing lifted me, I tell you.  One second I was sitting on the tractor seat, the next I was falling on my fat ass - there was no lifting, instead we just moved.  It - makes - no - sense!!!  Somehow we flew from the tractor to the ground, but with no wings and I don't know how it happened."

"Well, from what I could see Tor isn't hurt in any way.  When he wakes up, we'll ask him what he remembers, but I think we should be careful and not press him too hard."

"I agree, Hanna.  I think I was more upset when he keeled over than I was to find myself sitting on the ground and not on the tractor." Uncle Nils sighed.  "I do have to say that I'm going to be sitting down carefully for a while though.  One minute I was sitting on the tractor seat and the next minute the seat was just gone.  My feet were on the ground, but there was no seat under my fat bottom so I was falling, just like someone had pulled the seat out from under me.  I landed on a rock as big as my head and it felt like I was kicked by a mule, so I'll bet I've got a big bruise on my sit-me-down."

"Well, don't ask me to kiss it better," Aunt Hanna chortled.  "Now I think I should go check on the boy.  I don't want to leave him alone for too long just in case there is something wrong."

"I wonder if I should call Ollie and Olga?"

"What are you going to tell them?  That you learned how to fly or that Tor was so surprised that he fainted?  I think you should keep this quiet unless you want to be made to look like a fool, you big galoot.  If you're not hurt and Tor isn't hurt, I think this should be a family secret.  No one would believe your story anyway.  In fact if I hadn't been your wife since I was sixteen years old, I wouldn't even believe you myself."

"Yah, I suppose that being quiet about this is a good idea, but only if the boy is okay.  I will try to calm down while I do the chores.  Maybe tonight if Tor is up in time for supper we can ask him what he thinks happened?"

"Okay, but don't push him, Nils.  He's young and he was probably trying to keep up to you when you were digging out around those stupid tree stumps.  Maybe he was just so tired that the surprise of the accident, along with your lucky escape was too much for him to take."

Finally their voices stopped and Tor sighed in relief.  Perhaps what had happened was a one time thing.  Perhaps it would never come back, but as he thought about that he sighed again.  In a way what had happened had made him feel powerful, but it was a scary kind of power, not something he would really want.  Besides, he felt that if anyone knew that he could do that sort of thing he'd be seen to be dangerous because he'd be different and people didn't like different.

If his Aunt Hanna was hoping to keep things a secret, he wasn't going to argue with her, in fact Tor decided that he just might want to keep what had happened even more secret than she did.  He decided that he would be safest if he pretended that he didn't remember anything at all.  He knew that one day Uncle Nils would tell his father, but even though Tor hated lying, he'd have to act as if he didn't know a darn thing.  He really didn't know what had happened anyway, so how could he explain it?  Which meant that until he knew what had happened – or if it was going to happen again, – it was better to just shut up and let everyone else make guesses.  Perhaps they would say something that might help him understand, because right then he had no idea what he had done or how he'd done it.  Still, he knew he had done something – something which was completely impossible.

Tor heard the outside door close as Uncle Nils went to do the chores, then he heard Aunt Hanna's footsteps on the stairs, but he just lay there with his eyes closed.  When he heard the bedroom door start to open, he jerked as if he'd been startled, then started to sit up.

"Aunt Hanna?  How did I get back here from the field?  What happened to me?  Where is Uncle Nils?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Just stay where you are and don't get up yet," she ordered, but her face had a smile as she held his wrist to check his pulse.  "When Nils carried you in here, you were as floppy as a wet noodle, so I want to be sure you weren't hurt in any way.  But you can talk, so you can tell me if you hurt anywhere, can't you?"

"No, I just feel a bit tired, but I was digging with a shovel and swinging an axe all day, so that's a good excuse to feel tired.  Only why are you asking about how I feel?  What happened?  The last thing I remember, I was standing on the tractor hitch and Uncle Nils was starting to pull a big stump out of the ground.  Then I was here, and you came in the door.  Have I been dreaming?" Tor brought his hand up to his head.  "Or, did something fly off that old stump and knock me out?"

"No, you don't have any bumps on your head, so you weren't hit by anything and your uncle is telling wild stories that I'm having a hard time believing, but I'm sure it will all come out in the wash.  Now, you can sit up, but do it slowly."

Hanna Eklund wasn't trained as a nurse, but you wouldn't have guessed that if you had seen her checking how he moved and walked until she was certain he was okay.  Eventually she decided that he'd survive, but she wanted him to rest and relax until she had supper ready.  Since he wanted to think about what had happened anyway, he didn't argue about that idea.

In all honesty lying in bed and wondering about what had happened didn't bring any great revelations though.  It didn't bring rest and relaxation either, instead he was left feeling that he was even more lost and far more nervous than he had been previously.  He had read some science fiction stories that dealt with happenings which were similar, but while those stories referred to teleportation and telepathy as talents, he wasn't certain of that.  In fact he wasn't sure if what had happened to him was a talent or a curse.  If the abilities returned and if he could learn to control what happened, then he felt he'd have to call the ability a talent, but if he couldn't control that ability, it was definitely going to be a curse.

His biggest worry was that even if he did learn to control those strange abilities, someone was going to find out what he could do.  He knew what happened to people that were different from others.  He had lived through being singled out, teased, tormented and even harassed – and that just because his name wasn't lily-white Anglo-Saxon normal.  He knew that the more unlike the crowd you were, the worse the discrimination would become, so what would idiots like those he'd already met do if they discovered what he could do now?  The longer he lay there and thought about situations of that sort, the more worried he became.

Tor knew that he had to gain control of anything he was able to do.  So in the long run, he had to learn just what new abilities he now had, then somehow he had learn how to handle those abilities without anyone else suspecting what he was doing.

Tonight though, he was going to have to face his Uncle Nils across the dinner table and act as if he didn't know what had happened out in the far pasture.  That was going to be a test in itself.

Chapter 1