Valhalla Virus by Nick Harrow (best management books of all time TXT) 📕

but also relieved he wouldn’t have to worry about waking up Mimi while he made himself a sandwich. If there wasn’t any bacon left, he’d satisfy himself with some scrambled eggs with cheese and whatever other meat he could cram between two slices of toasted bread. His stomach rumbled at the thought of the breakfast sandwich that awaited him as he opened the sliding glass doors to the kitchen.

He stepped over the threshold and immediately cursed and clamped both hands to the stabbing pain at the very top of his forehead. He’d walked right into the top edge of the door. His fingers came away clean, so at least he hadn’t split his head open again.

But he’d walked right through those doors the day before with inches to spare. Now, though, the top of his head was at least an inch higher than the door’s frame. He’d grown nearly half a foot.

“Fuck, I really don’t want to get new clothes,” he groaned. Even in the apocalypse when clothes were free for the taking, Gunnar doubted he’d be able to find anything in his size. Shit just kept getting weirder. “I’ll worry about that after I eat.”

“You awake?” he called out as he ducked his head and entered the kitchen.

No answer.

The lights Gunnar had seen came from the dining room, and he left the kitchen to investigate. It wouldn’t be the first time Mimi had ended the night passed out in a chair with an empty bottle of tequila next to her. But there was no sign of his friend in the dining room, either. Maybe she’d slept upstairs again and had forgotten to turn off the light. The bodyguard held his breath and stood motionless, listening for any sounds of life elsewhere in the house.

He caught faint snatches of what could have been talking coming from the direction of the bedrooms. Gunnar slipped back into the kitchen, grabbed one of the big chef knives from the wooden block on the counter, then padded down the hallway on the balls of his bare feet. He belatedly realized he should’ve put on some clothes before searching for intruders, then shrugged the worry off. He’d have bigger concerns than dangling balls if there really was someone in there.

The voice came again, clearer now that Gunnar was closer to the source. The speaker sounded like Mimi, but there was a strange tension in her voice that broke and twisted the words into alien forms.

The bodyguard followed the sounds. They didn’t come from the bedrooms but the bathroom at the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar, the interior dark. If Mimi was in there, she hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on.

Gunnar stopped just outside the bathroom door and strained his ears to make sense of the sounds coming from within. Mimi kept repeating the same two syllables over and over again, the sounds almost overlapping in the rush to leave her mouth.

“Comingcomingcoming,” she rasped. “Comingcomingcoming...”

There was a desperate, urgent tone to the word that brought to mind images of Mimi’s naked body sprawled beneath him, one leg hooked around his, her fingers raking down his back.

No, that wasn’t right. Mimi didn’t sound like she was having fun in there at all.

“Mimi,” Gunnar called. “I’m coming in.”

No response.

Gunnar held the knife cocked back by his right hip, ready to lunge forward if a threat presented itself. He pushed the door open with his left foot, his eyes straining against the darkness to make out anything within. The bodyguard couldn’t see a damned thing, but the rich, coppery scent of fresh blood sent a jolt of adrenaline shooting through his system. He shoved his left hand into the room, found the switch beside the door, and flipped the light on.

Mimi stood in front of the mirror, her right hand clutching the edge of the sink, her left hand smearing blood across its glass. “Comingcomingcoming,” she groaned. “Comingcomingcoming.”

The bodyguard scanned the small room and found no one else. He held the knife behind his back to get it out of the way. The last thing he wanted to worry about was accidentally stabbing Mimi.

“Wake up,” he called out, but she didn’t stir. She adjusted her weight, scrawling another series of bloody lines and squiggles across the glass.

Gunnar couldn’t help but watch, his eyes wide when he saw the message she’d written, over and over, in blood from the torn tip of her index finger.

We’re coming.

Mimi’s eyes jolted open. She stared at Gunnar’s reflection with slitted pupils, and a wicked smile spread across her features. “I’ll see you soon, loverboy,” she said in Hyrrokkin’s voice.

Chapter 12

THE LIGHTS DIED, PLUNGING the bunker into utter darkness. Gunnar took a step back and raised his fists, ready to defend himself if Hyrrokkin had hijacked his friend’s body for a surprise attack. As much of a pain in the ass as that would be, it wasn’t even the biggest worry he had.

If the power was off, that meant Hyrrokkin’s jötnar were nearby, maybe already in the house. With no power, the security monitors were blind. The elevator wouldn’t work, either. The jötnar had trapped Gunnar and his people like rats in a cave.

A row of red LEDs hidden in the baseboards sprang to life with an electrical snap. A short digital whoop followed the red lights, and a robotic female voice announced, “Emergency backup batteries online. Generator fuel levels are at maximum.”

“Gunnar?” Mimi asked in her own voice. She pressed the fingertips of her left hand against her forehead. “What are you doing in the bathroom with me? What happened to the power? And where are your clothes?”

“In reverse order: wherever Ray put them after my shower, I don’t know, I needed a sandwich.” Gunnar grabbed Mimi by the hand and pulled her down the hall. “Tell me you’ve got weapons stashed around this place. Company’s on its way.”

“Shit,” Mimi snarled and charged past Gunnar, her loose Judas Priest T-shirt swirling above her black panties.

The bodyguard followed