Karl Dies in this Book: Chapter 11

In the bathroom I made the horrific discovery that my hair had been turned from its reddish, brownish, blondish colour to completely sun bleached blonde. A quick check of my still black eyebrows and red beard told me that it hadn't been the explosion but was in fact the contact with Sun God balls.
I undressed and got into the shower, observing the severe bruising starting to develop over good chunks of my body. It's not like the movies, you can't get tossed around by a giant without expecting moderate to severe injuries. I stood under the water for longer than necessary but it felt good on my aching flesh.
I washed my hair four times, hoping the colour would return. No such luck. The hot water ran out and I shut off the tap.
I grabbed the towel and took a second to look at what remained of my body in the mirror. I was tall, over six foot, and bulky tipping the scale at over 250 lbs but very little manifested as fat. My skin tone could be described as Irish, impossible to tan, except now it was spotted with purple and green bruises like some acid trip version of camouflage.
I got dressed, putting on boxers and socks for the first time in months. A cold dead hands t-shirt and multicam pants covering most of the bruises that had already begun to throb.
I combed out my beard and brushed my hair into a messy ponytail. I almost looked human again, didn't even recognize myself in the mirror, though the white hair may have been a contributing factor.
I returned to the living room just in time to watch the Freyr fall from the roof thumping loudly to the floor.
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me my hair was white?"
"Figured you knew, or you'd freak out."
"Fuck you."
"Just like that. You ready to go? Green dude says we gotta get moving fast."
It suddenly realised Billy Dee Yoda had disappeared again, big surprise.
"Fine, but we're taking my Jeep."
Karl's wrangler was really cool looking and great off road but it had shit for storage and terrible gas mileage. My Grand Cherokee wasn't meant for offroad but on the highway it was comfy, loaded, and could go forever on a tank of gas.
Karl nodded and went off to transfer his stuff from his Jeep to mine. I went back and started packing. This consisted of a rain jacket, two more pairs of camo pants, a handful of underwear and socks, extra knives, extra axes, and all my guns and ammo. Now I'm not some crazy prepper by any means but I have more than most to say the least.
In ten minutes the back of the Grand Cherokee was loaded with all our stuff and I was backing out of the driveway. Karl looked longingly at his Jeep and I said a silent goodbye to my life and my past.
We stopped at the gas station and filled up, as well as grabbing snacks and Mountain Dew Kickstart, which for those who don't know is a grape flavoured energy drink that I have a fondness for.
Two hours later as the Jeep cruised down the highway loaded for war, my bladder rapidly filling with caffeinated urine, Karl finally spoke.
"You still wearing your wedding ring buddy."
I fingered the big steel loop on my left ring finger. "It took you two hours to say that?"
"Seemed like a more dramatic thing to do."
"You make my head hurt sometimes."
"So you never told me what happened that night, the night the killer was in your house."
I hadn't actually, I had not spoken of it since that night. But, I figured since there was a few more hours to go until we got somewhere now was as good a time as any.
Right, so I explained the taste of blood drives me insane. Anyway, in my rage I  screamed enough and grabbed the killer's wrists, squeezing hard enough to feel bones grinding unnaturally. With no facial features it was hard to tell what the bastard was thinking but my guess was shock.
It was definitely shock when I simultaneously pulled his face down and threw my head forward, the arch of my forehead impacting his lip less smile. I felt several of them shatter as warm blood flowed from my forehead.
Taking advantage before I could get punch drunk I rolled us over until my bulk pinned the creepy fucker to the floor. Then I drove my thumbs into his lid less eyes, unprotected they were easily punctured, he screamed, it felt good.
Then I saw it, the Freyr, only a few inches away. I pinned his head with a hand on the throat and grabbed the axe. Because of the awkward angle the hit bisected his face at a forty-five degree angle, he stopped struggling.
I turned to find my wife behind me, staring on in horror, blood stinging my left eye i stood up, she took a step back.
After I disposed of the body she made me tell her what was going on, I did. She nodded with understanding and two days later she was gone. I didn't blame her.