Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3), page 25
Tim took a series of rapid steps toward Mordred, dagger in hand, counting with each step. “Six! Five! Four! Three!”
“Tim, no!” shouted Dave.
Mordred held the bag up over his head. “Eric, Scott, Nathan, Milton, RETURN!”
The air crackled with electricity while the room filled with bright, white light. Cooper had to avert his eyes. He held the shotgun by the barrel, hoping he’d at least get the chance to smash one of those fuckers in the face before they killed everybody.
From outside the room, someone started banging on the door. “Hotel security. Open the door!”
The electricity in the air died down as the white light started to fade, and the sound of screaming took up the slack.
The door flew open as a large man in a blue suit kicked it in. His suit was wet and brown down the front with what Cooper recognized as fresh, booze-induced vomit, and his eyes were wide with what looked more like disgust than terror. “What the hell is going on in here?”
Cooper turned to see what he was looking at. Mordred was standing nude in front of four prepubescent boys. Well, five if you counted Tim.
Mordred looked from the security person to the television, where the camera was at an odd angle, focused on a set of hairy balls slapping against ass.
“I can explain,” said Mordred, taking a step back away from the traumatized children. “This isn’t what it – Ow!” He hopped on one foot, having stepped on a piece of broken glass. Three hops later, he landed on a different piece of glass, lost his balance, and fell out of the open window.
Tim stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed into the night sky. “I’ve done it again.”
Chapter 34
“You’re not to set foot on Beauregard property again,” said the slightly wider of the two young security personnel while shoving Julian through a service entrance on the side of the building. Julian stumbled until he was stopped by a dumpster. The clang of metal against face reverberated in his aching head.
Julian steadied himself against the dumpster and looked at the two hefty men in blue suits who stood in a rectangle of light from a sconce on the outside wall. “Oh I’ll be back, all right. I’ll be back to kick your asses!”
The one who had shoved him just laughed, but the smaller one’s face turned foul.
“You threatenin’ me, Wingding?” He took a step forward, but his partner stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. “Don’t nobody threaten me. I’ll kick your skinny Chow ass.”
“Let it go, Matt,” said the bigger guy. “What's he gonna do? Come back here and get us with his black belt?”
“That ain’t the point, Darryl,” said Matt. “It’s a matter of –”
“I don’t have a black belt,” said Julian. The two casino thugs stared at him blankly. “I’ve got Magic Missiles.” Julian waved his arms around to add more substance to his threat.
Of course Julian didn’t really plan to come back and shoot these guys with Magic Missiles. He was neither a violent nor vengeful person. He only wanted to teach them a lesson about judging a book by its cover. From the looks on their faces, they got the message.
The smaller one frowned. “That’s the saddest display I ever seen. I don’t rightly feel like I can kick his ass like I was gonna.”
The bigger one shook his head. “What a fucking loser.”
The two of them went back inside and closed the door.
Alone with his bruised face and feelings of inadequacy, Julian skulked around to the more brightly lit front of the building. He stopped when he felt the crunch of broken glass grinding into pavement beneath his shoes. The sidewalk was glistening with tiny fragments of the stuff. Sure, it was pretty, but you’d think there’d be some safety concerns. Surely there was a better way to – “OW!”
Something small and hard hit Julian on the top of the head. It smarted like someone had thrown an acorn at him really hard, but from directly above. He looked up.
“JESUS CHRIST!” Julian shouted as three hundred and fifty pounds’ worth of hairy, naked nerd came screaming down toward him. Paralyzed with fear and confusion, he instinctively dropped onto the ground in a fetal position and shut his eyes.
His next thought was that he wished his instincts had told him to move out of the way instead.
The thought after that was, How am I having the time for all of these thoughts? Cautiously, he opened one eye and looked up again.
There were no naked Mordreds falling toward him. It must have been some kind of hallucination. As hallucinations go, that one was pretty fucked up. What the hell was that girl mixing into those Buttery Nipples?
“Sir!” said a familiar voice.
Julian’s mind was a little clearer than it had been a few seconds ago. He'd vomited up a lot of booze, and seeing Mordred naked was enough to sober up just about anyone. A mental image started to form as to who the voice belonged to.
“Ravenus?”
“Over here, sir.”
Julian turned. Ravenus weighed down a branch of a nearby crepe myrtle tree.
“I was worried about you, sir,” said Ravenus. “I couldn’t feel your presence.”
“Sorry about that,” said Julian. “I was really drunk.”
“And then when it came back, it was in a rush of panic.”
“Yeah, I thought I saw something.”
“It must have given you quite a fright, sir,” said Ravenus. “Was it an owlbear?”
Julian laughed. “No, Ravenus. It wasn’t an owlbear. It was the weirdest thing, though. I could have sworn I saw –” Looking back up, Julian discovered that the night sky above his head was still not completely devoid of activity.
“Drew Brees away!” shouted a football player as he leapt out of the top floor window.
Julian scrambled out of the way this time before looking up again. The football player wasn’t free-falling. He was descending slowly in short bursts. When he was about a quarter of the way down, the shape of a giant bat became clear against the dark sky. Katherine?
When they were about three quarters of the way down, it became clear that the football player was not, in fact, Drew Brees, but Cooper in a Saints uniform.
When he was about three feet off the ground, Katherine let go of Cooper’s shoulders. Cooper dropped to one knee. “Touchdown!”
Katherine morphed back into her half-elven form. “Stop goofing around, Cooper! Give me the bag!”
Cooper tossed the Bag of Holding to Katherine, who immediately started pulling people out of it.
“Hey, Coop,” said Julian.
“Julian!” said Cooper, grinning through the facemask of his helmet. “Where the fuck have you been? You missed everything! Mordred just fell out of the goddamn – Wait a second… Where is Mordred?”
Julian tried to will the rest of his drunkenness away. It didn’t work. “Um… Where, exactly, did you expect to find Mordred?”
Cooper shrugged. “Splattered all over the sidewalk, I guess. Maybe at the bottom of a Mordred-shaped hole, if he landed in the grass.”
“Then it was real,” said Julian.
“What was real?”
“I was walking right past here, looking for you guys,” Julian lied, “when something bounced off my head.”
“Mordred?” asked Cooper.
Julian glared at Cooper, trying to determine whether the question was genuine or not. Cooper’s face gave no answer.
“No, it wasn’t Mordred. It was something small and hard, like an acorn, or a –”
“Or a die,” said Tim, picking up one of the magical black dice. He laughed shallowly and shook his head. “That lucky, lucky son of a bitch.” He stared out at the Gulf of Mexico. “Well played, Mordred. Well played.”
Chapter 35
“Where are we?” asked one of the former Horsemen.
“Who was that crazy little man who was trying to bite everybody?” asked another.
“Was that a Bag of Holding?” asked the only one of them who didn’t appear to be on the brink of crying.
“I want to go home,” said the chubby one who had passed the brink. Tim couldn’t really tell any of the little brats apart, but he hoped that the fat one was Nathan.
“We’ll take you home,” said Tim. “Where do you live?” He felt the dice in his pocket. They had found six in all.
“Atlanta,” said the one who seemed to still be in control of his emotions.
“Fuck,” said Cooper. “That’s an eight hour drive. Can’t we just leave these little pricks here? They’ll find their way home.”
“Huddle up,” said Tim. He led Cooper, Dave, Katherine, and Julian a few yards away. “These kids have a chance at a normal life.”
“One of those fuckers stabbed me,” said Cooper.
“But they don’t know that,” said Dave. “They were being manipulated by Mordred.”
“Everybody at the Whore’s Head was being manipulated by Mordred,” said Tim. “The choice to act like giant assholes was their own.”
“That’s right,” said Cooper.
“But having said that,” Tim continued, “They are a lot younger and easier to manipulate than us. I think we have to cut them some slack for that.”
“Can’t we just buy them a bus ticket?” said Katherine.
“I’d rather us act like decent human beings for once,” said Tim. “Julian, you wanna weigh in on this?”
Julian gave him a look like anything he said would come out as vomit instead of words. Tim knew that look well.
“Okay then,” said Tim. “We’re going to need another car. Whatever happened to Randy’s van?”
Cooper picked his nose. “We, uh…”
“We had to ditch it on the I-10 to go after Ginfizzle on foot,” said Katherine.
“We’re right next to a parking deck,” said Dave. “And it’s not like we haven’t broken six dozen other laws today. Let’s just steal one. I’m sure Dennis has a slim jim in his squad car.”
“Slim Jim!” said Cooper. “Snap into the spice! The beefy –”
“Shut up, Cooper,” said Tim. “Do any of you know how to hotwire a car?”
“I thought maybe you might,” said Dave.
“How the hell would I know how to hotwire a car?”
“You’re a rogue.”
“Do I even have to point out why that’s such a stupid conclusion to jump to?”
“It wasn’t a conclusion,” said Dave. “It was a shot in the dark. We don’t have –”
“Pro…” said Julian.
“What is it?” said Tim. “Spit it out.”
Julian threw up into the center of their huddle. “Okay, I’m good now.”
“Was there something you wanted to say?” asked Tim.
“Professor Goosewaddle can start a car.”
Dave squinted doubtfully at Julian. “How can –”
“Good enough for me,” said Tim.
One more trip in the Bag of Holding brought everyone to the top tier of the parking deck. Dennis was surprisingly receptive to the idea of stealing a car, so much so that he suggested they go for something bigger. The hope for a replacement set of testicles was a powerful motivator indeed. Fifteen minutes later, they were all headed eastbound on the I-10 in a luxury RV.
Dennis took the first shift so that he could flash a badge if anyone gave them any trouble getting out of the parking lot. That proved an unnecessary precaution, but he took them as far as Mobile. Katherine took over after that, turning north on I-65, and Tim allowed himself to relax. While the kids huddled together in fear, the rest of the group helped themselves to the personal belongings of the family who owned the RV. They discovered a few bottles of expensive liquor and played rounds of Paper, Rock, Scissors to determine who would be exempt from driving duty. Chaz lost, and was therefore assigned to drive them the rest of the way to Atlanta once dawn broke.
A change of clothes was also a welcome treat. The closest thing Tim could find to fit him was a Nickelback T-shirt. Fucking kids these days. It was less scratchy than the rough-spun wool of his tunic, so he wore it inside out. He kept his character’s vest, though. The inside pocket still contained the six magical dice, their only chance at becoming normal again.
As tired as they all were, it was the kids who fell asleep first. Uncertainty and terror must have been really exhausting. Everyone else, it seemed, had gotten a second or third wind.
“Professor,” said Tim once he had a healthy dose of scotch in his system. “You got any more of that merrythistle?”
“Whoa!” said Dave. “Look who finally decided to let his hair down.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always up for a good smoke.”
Dave stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Hey you guys. What the shit is going on here?” His voice was artificially high-pitched, a mockery of Tim’s. It got laughs from Dennis and Randy, and even Cooper.
“Oh, I’m so sorry that I didn’t think we should all be high as fuck before we had to face off against…” He looked at the children passed out peacefully on the bed and laughed. “… Against these fucking kids.”
Julian and Cooper had a good laugh at that. Dave choked on his scotch.
Thankfully, Professor Goosewaddle had more merrythistle handy. They cracked the windows and lit up the pipe.
On the road from Mobile to Montgomery, Tim, Dave, Julian, Cooper, and Chaz filled in Randy, Dennis, and Professor Goosewaddle on the finer details of what had brought them to this point. They spoke of Mordred, Captain Righteous, the Whore’s Head Inn, Millard the Vampire, the Horsemen, and general life in Cardinia. Randy and Dennis were just high and drunk enough to buy into every ridiculous word of it.
Katherine turned onto I-85 once they reached Montgomery, but pulled onto the shoulder shortly after that.
“The sky is lightening up,” she said. “It’s time for one of you to take over.”
Katherine pulled the Bag of Holding over her head, and Chaz took over the final leg of the journey to Atlanta.
About an hour later, the sun peeked over the eastern horizon. Dave struggled to stay awake long enough to pray for his daily allotment of Healing spells, and shortly after fell asleep with his head resting on a healthy and grateful Butterbean.
Tim grabbed an emergency flashlight from a wall socket. “I’m going into the bag,” he said to Julian, the only one, aside from Chaz, who was still awake at that point. “Give me about ten seconds, then pull me back out.” He stepped into the Bag of Holding. The sensation this time was stranger than usual, as it felt like he should be falling through the floor of the RV onto pavement rushing by at eighty miles per hour.
But there was no pavement. No traffic. No white noise. Just peaceful darkness. Void.
Tim clicked on the flashlight. Light reflected off of random, floating debris. An Arby’s wrapper here. A torn scrap of clothing there. Finally, he found what he was looking for. Katherine and Ginfizzle, sound asleep, floating in space. They were locked together in an embrace, with Ginfizzle’s head nuzzled against Katherine’s breasts. They looked so peaceful, like a mother and child. It didn’t make what Tim had to do any easier.
Sound and light came crashing back as Tim was yanked backwards into natural space-time.
“Everything okay?” asked Julian.
Tim shrugged. He walked up to the front of the RV. “Pull over.”
“There’s an exit five miles up the road,” said Chaz. “Can you hold it?”
“There’s a bathroom twenty feet behind me,” said Tim. “Pull over here.”
Chaz pulled the RV onto the shoulder of an innocuous stretch of open road. Tim looked out the window. To the right was an open meadow. No trees. No rocks. No shade. Tall grass and blue wildflowers. It was perfect.
“Keep the engine running,” Tim instructed Chaz. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed the Bag of Holding, opened the door, and stepped outside.
He walked a good fifty yards out into the meadow, far enough for people casually passing by at eighty miles per hour not to be able to see what he was doing. When he judged himself far enough away from the road, he still waited for as big a gap in traffic as he could get.
The little shit inside this bag had been a remorseless killer in life, and he was no better in undeath. Tim held the Bag of Holding upside-down and reached up into the opening. “Ginfizzle.”
The miniature vampire spilled out of the bag and immediately began to sizzle in the quiet light of dawn. His eyelids opened wide, allowing his liquefied eyeballs to run down either side of his bubbling, blistering face. He hissed and gasped as he made one desperate swipe in Tim’s general direction, but he didn’t even come close to touching him. The skin of his arm ignited, and his arm fell across his chest, catching the rest of him on fire. It was a quick-burning fire, consuming his clothes and skin in less than a minute, leaving behind only a clean white skeleton. It looked like a child’s skeleton, only with big, pointy incisors. A few seconds later, even those remains collapsed in on themselves and crumbled into a pile of fine, white dust.
Neither Julian nor Chaz asked any questions about what happened when Tim returned to the RV, though they had both no doubt been watching through the windows. Chaz was in the driver’s seat, and Julian had gone as far as to pretend he was sleeping.
“Elves don’t sleep,” said Tim.
Julian opened his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.”
When they got close enough to Atlanta, Tim banged the butt of his dagger on the wall. “Rise and shine!”
Cooper responded with a fart, and that did more to wake everyone else up than the noise did. With the windows open as wide as they would go, the sandy-haired skinny kid – Tim neither knew nor cared which one he was – navigated them toward the suburban neighborhood where the four of them lived.
“We’re just going to drop you kids off at the front of your neighborhood,” said Tim. “You can make it from there, right?” The four of them nodded.
Twenty minutes later, the RV pulled up to a quaint little subdivision with a large wooden sign at the front which read Peachtree Springs.
“I want you kids to forget whatever you think you saw or experienced,” said Tim. “And remember, life gets better after high school. You can let your nerd flag fly, and nobody will ever give you shit about it. Just promise me you’ll hang on until then, and try to be good people.” It wasn’t a Braveheart caliber speech, and the bit about life getting better might have been a bit of a stretch, but it was the best his liquor-addled brain could puke up just then.
