Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3), page 4
“The fuck do you want?” he said, blowing a cloud of marijuana smoke into Chaz’s face.
Chaz looked down at Tim. Tim nodded. Chaz began strumming his lute and singing Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On.
“That’s the Charm Person spell?” asked Tim. It seemed more like a cruel joke.
Chaz went on singing. Much to Tim’s surprise, the alleged pedophile didn’t slam the door in their faces. Eventually, he even started bobbing his head to the beat and placed the end of his joint between Chaz’s lips.
“I’m Randy,” said the man in the robe.
“God I hope that’s your name,” said Tim.
Chaz took a long drag on the joint and exhaled slowly as his the music faded. “I’m Chaz. Dude, our car broke down. Can you give us a lift in your van?”
“No sweat, bro,” said Randy. “Let me go grab my keys.”
Five minutes later the van pulled up next to Tim’s car in the Rouse’s parking lot. Tim had spent the whole ride in the middle, rubbing thighs with a suspected child molester and staring uncomfortably at a large jar of Vaseline on the dashboard.
“Well here we are,” said Chaz.
“Would you please get the fuck out,” said Tim, nudging him with his elbow.
Tim scrambled out after him, a shower and a change of clothes now the two highest items on his To-Do list.
Dave didn’t wait for an invitation. The rear driver’s side door opened and two thick, booted feet stepped onto the pavement.
“Far out!” said Randy. “What, are you guys in the circus or something?"
"Randy, this is Dave," said Chaz. "Dave, Randy."
"Um..." said Dave. "Yo."
"You mind if we open the back doors?" said Tim.
"You got it, little man," said Randy, opening the doors.
Much to Tim's surprise, the interior of the rear part of the van was not stocked from top to bottom with rolls of duct tape, plastic sheets, and rope. On the contrary, it was mostly empty. The sides were lined with paint cans, and there were racks for brushes and rollers. As expected, there was white dried liquid splattered on the walls and floor, but there were other colors as well, suggesting that it was paint. A stack of used paint-roller trays stood against the wall against the driver's seat, and wooden paint-stirrers stuck to old newspapers on the floor. If this was just a cover vehicle, it was an impressive ruse.
Chaz and Randy had to help Dave into the van.
"Damn, bro," said Randy, admiring Dave's mace. "That's some medieval shit, yo. But what's up with the arm?"
Dave slammed the door on his side shut.
"Shit," said Randy. "Sorry, dude. He clapped his hands once. "Okay, so who wants to ride back here with Mr. Grumpypants, and who wants to sit up front with me?"
"I'll sit up front," said Tim.
"Wouldn't you rather sit in the back?" Chaz said very suggestively.
"No," said Tim. "I don't think I would."
Chaz turned to Randy. "Would you give us a moment?"
"Take your time," Randy said cheerily. He walked up front and got in the driver's seat.
"What are you doing?" said Chaz. "What if he makes a move on you?"
"I'm not so sure anymore that this guy's a pedo," said Tim. "And anyway, do you know how long that Charm Person spell lasts?"
"No."
"Well what if it runs out and he starts to lose his shit?" asked Tim. "I'm a more powerful fighter than you."
Chaz glared angrily at Tim for a moment and then hung his head. "That's so demoralizing."
"It's okay," said Tim. "You're a support character."
Chaz climbed into the back of the van and closed the door behind him. Tim hopped up front.
"Seat belts!" said Randy.
Tim buckled his seat belt. Randy started up the van.
"Just get on Highway 90 and head west toward Bay St. Louis."
"You sure don't talk like no kid I ever met."
"I had a hard childhood," said Tim. It wasn't true, but he had to say something. He hoped it would end there.
"I got a nephew about your age," said Randy. "But he's dumb as shit. All he ever wants to talk about is them goddamn Pokey-Man cards and shit."
Tim rolled down the window. The air smelled like home. The salt of the gulf, but with a hint of fast food. It was good to be back. They drove past a Dunkin Donuts where a cop was getting into his squad car. Tim gave him a friendly wave. The officer didn't wave back. He just stared open-mouthed at Tim through mirrored sunglasses.
Tim frowned and sat back. What the fuck was that all about? Had the cop identified him as a halfling?
They had just pulled onto Highway 90 when Tim glanced in the side mirror. The cop car was tailing them.
"Shit!" said Tim. "Dude, are your inspection tags up to date?"
"I think so," said Randy. "Why?"
"There's a cop tailing us."
Randy looked into his own side mirror. "His lights ain't on. He's probably just drivin’ behind us."
"At this speed?" said Tim. "You're driving like an old lady."
"I'm drivin’ safe, you ungrateful little prick," said Randy, annoyance just beginning to creep into his voice.
"Sorry," said Tim. He mentally reminded himself that it wasn't him who had cast the Charm Person spell.
"You want I should put the pedal to the metal when there's a cop right behind us?"
"No," said Tim. "All I'm saying is that it's weird for him to not pass us at this speed."
"Maybe he needs to make a right turn soon."
Tim hoped that was the case, but had a strong feeling it wasn't. He'd been pulled over enough to know the score. If the cop was a major prick, he'd tail you like that for a while before flashing his lights, just to make you sweat.
After another minute passed by, and the cop car didn't, Randy started to look a little nervous as well, constantly looking into his side mirror. They had just passed a strip mall when the blue lights finally flashed on.
"Aw shit," said Randy. He pulled into the driveway of what had once been a house before Hurricane Katrina swept through town. Now it was just a vacant concrete slab. The cop car pulled in behind them. The blue lights stopped flashing.
Tim heard the car door behind them open and shut, but couldn't see anything from his vantage point.
Randy looked into the side mirror again and breathed a sigh of relief. "Ain't nothin' to worry about. That's just Dennis. He's cool. I buy my weed off him."
“I guess that’s good,” said Tim. He still didn’t like where this was going.
“S’up, Dennis!” said Randy.
“Don’t you S’up, Dennis me, you stupid sack of shit.”
“What?”
“You trawlin’ for young queers on the internet again, Randy?”
“What? No!” said Randy, his face flushing red. Then he exhaled and smiled. “Oh, you thought… It ain’t like that, Dennis. I was just –”
“The judge ain’t gonna buy that I thought he was eighteen bullshit with this one, Randy,” said Dennis. “You’re goin’ away for good this time.”
“That boy had an I.D.” said Randy. “And this ain’t what it looks like. I swear it ain’t!”
“What is it you see in these kids, Randy?” Dennis spit on the ground. “Do they squeal for you? Do they just come cheaper than fags your own age?”
“I told you, Dennis. I ain’t like that!” Randy was starting to lose his temper, and Dennis was enjoying the hell out of it. If Tim didn’t step in, Dennis would push Randy into doing something he’d regret.
“Seriously officer,” said Tim. “He was just giving me a lift to Bay St. Lou—”
“Shut your cock-socket, boy,” said Dennis. “Ain’t nobody talkin’ to you.”
“Don’t talk to him like that, Dennis,” said Randy. “He’s just a boy.”
“You got a soft spot for your little cyber-queerlet?” said Dennis. “He must be something special.” He walked around the front of the van. “Hop on out of the vehicle, son. Let me get a better look at you.”
Well that didn’t sound creepy at all. But what choice did he have. To reassure himself, Tim felt for the pommel of his dagger hidden beneath his clothes. He opened the door and hopped down onto the ground.
Dennis pinched Tim’s cheek roughly. “You got some fleshy cheeks and a weird nose, but I guess you ain’t such a bad little piece of ass.”
Tim pulled his face out of the officer’s grip. His cap fell off.
“Goddamn, boy!” said Dennis. “What the fuck’s wrong with your ears?”
Tim clapped his hands over his ears. “I umm… I was in a lawnmower accident as a child.”
Dennis turned to Randy. “Tell you what. You let me take this little fag-freak for a test run, and we can forget all about this.”
“Or else what?” said Randy.
Dennis grinned at Randy. “Oh you ain’t gonna like option B.” His erection had grown visible through his pants. He caught Tim noticing. “You see something you like, son?”
“I thought only criminals carried hypos in their pockets.”
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have a tiny dick.”
“Why you little shit.” Dennis backhanded Tim across the face, knocking him to the ground. “I reckon I’m gonna enjoy this. Randy, you got any rubbers? With a mouth like that, you know this ain’t his first time around the block.”
“Come on, Dennis,” said Randy. “Just let the boy go.”
“Never mind,” said Dennis. “I got one.” He kicked Tim. “Go on. Get up, boy.”
Tim stood up. “I’m warning you, you sick fuck. You’d better stay away from me.”
“Hop into the back of the van, son” said Dennis. “Randy, not a word out of you or I’ll shoot you dead and put a knife in your hand.”
“You’re a fucking police officer!” cried Tim.
“That’s right,” said Dennis, pulling a condom out of his back pocket. “And now I’m about to protect and serve.” He opened the right side door.
“Sleep, baby, sleep,” sang Chaz with a single strum of his lute.
“The fuck?” Dennis dropped to the ground like a bag of potatoes.
“Well,” said Chaz. “That’s me tapped out of spells for the day.”
Tim removed the officer’s gun from its holster. “Help me get him into the van.”
“What?” said Chaz. “We’re kidnapping a fucking cop now? Are you out of your mind?” In spite of his objection, he still grabbed the arm Tim lifted up to him. “You know those cop cars have cameras, right?”
“I think the good officer probably shuts the camera off before he rapes kids,” said Tim. “Don’t you?”
Dave and Chaz pulled the sleeping officer into the van.
“You hop up front, Chaz,” said Tim.
“Why?” asked Chaz. “What if Randy comes out of the spell?”
“Keep this pointed at him.” Tim slapped the gun into Chaz’s gut. “It’s just as good as a spell.”
Tim grabbed the rear bumper of the van and lifted himself inside like a gymnast. He and Dave closed the doors. Dave sat back against the wall, but Tim’s mind was racing. He could feel his pulse beating in his temples. He scanned the van until he spotted a roll of duct tape. That would do.
As soon as the van’s engine started up, Tim got to work taping Dennis’s hands together and his mouth shut. He then set to unbuckling the officer’s belt.
“Um…” said Dave. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Do you remember that scene in Fight Club,” said Tim, “when Brad Pitt threatens to cut the police commissioner’s balls off?” He unzipped Dennis’s pants and pulled them down to his knees, revealing white briefs against whiter skin. “See if you can find a rubber band.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” said Dave. “That dude’s a cop. Don’t you think we’re in deep enough shit as it is?”
“This dude just tried to fuck me against my will,” said Tim.
“Yeah, I know, but –”
“And do I have to remind you that he thought I was a kid?”
“I’m only thinking about –”
“You’re not thinking,” said Tim. “You and Chaz are missing the bigger picture here. We’re off the grid. If the cops get us on camera, get our fingerprints or whatever, who gives a fuck? We’re in deep shit all right. But here’s the good part. We’re in so deep that we get to act with a sort of impunity. We can’t live here like this. There are only two ways this can end. We get Mordred to change us back into our normal selves, in which case we’ll never be suspected of the crimes committed by the carnival freaks we currently are. Or we die trying, in which case why not put the fear of God into this kid-fucker before we go?”
Tim pulled the cop’s underwear down. The sick fucker still had a semi going. He wiped his sweaty palm on his pants and shivered as he wrapped his hand around Dennis’s scrotum. He drew his dagger and placed the blade against the base of the sack. “Wake him up.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Dave.
“Fine,” said Tim. “I’ll wake him up.” He squeezed Dennis’s balls together.
Dennis groaned. It sounded more like pleasure than pain, so Tim squeezed harder. The groan became suddenly sharper and louder until Dave finally acquiesced and clapped his palm over Dennis’s mouth.
Dennis came wide awake and struggled against his bindings.
“I wouldn’t squirm too much, officer,” said Tim. “I’ve got a knife on your sack.”
Panic and understanding shone in Dennis’s eyes, and he stopped struggling at once.
“My friend’s going to take the tape off your mouth,” said Tim. “Promise not to scream?”
Dennis nodded.
“All right.” Tim nodded at Dave, who then ripped the duct tape from Dennis's mouth.
"Ow!" said Dennis. Some of his mustache hairs had come off with the tape. “You two assholes got no idea how much trouble –”
Tim pressed the dagger more firmly against Dennis’s skin, just short of slicing through. “You’re the one who’s in trouble right now, officer. So shut up and listen.”
Dave looked sympathetically down at Dennis. “I’d hear him out.”
“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” said Tim. “I’m not what you think I am. I’ve got eyes and ears all over town, and I’m going to be watching you. If I ever hear of you even looking at another –”
Bump. The van ran over a pothole, knocking Tim backward onto his ass.
Dennis screamed.
Tim looked down and discovered he still had a pair of hairy, bloody testicles in his hand. “FUCK!” He flung the sack away to the other side of the van.
“JESUS CHRIST!” shouted Dave. He clapped his hand over Dennis’s mouth. “You cut his fucking balls off!” Dennis writhed around, smearing blood all over the van floor.
“Dude!” cried Tim. “Heal him already!”
“I heal thee!” said Dave.
Dennis stopped squirming and passed back out. New, hairless skin closed the wound, and a small squirt of semen seeped out of his dick.
Tim sat back, groping in his vest’s inner pocket for the pack of cigarettes he’d grabbed from the Chicken Hut. “I guess he still had one left in the chamber.”
Chapter 4
Scott and his crew sat around a lonely table in a dark corner of the Stone Dragon Tavern, the ritziest place their group was still allowed into. While the other three merely sat silently, sulking into their beers, Scott tried to remind himself that all was not lost. They’d had a bad day, but they were still the biggest badasses on the block, at least in this part of town. They could still stir some shit up.
Eric was doing more than sulking. He was still seething as he sat, bare-chested while he had the tavern keeper clean the vomit off of his armor and undershirt. His half-orc skin was gray and smooth, save for the scars he’d earned in the battles they’d fought since they’d come here. When he was in a good mood, he’d point to a certain one and recall the story behind it. The battle they’d just walked away from wasn’t a story he’d likely be telling anytime soon. Vomit stains were not scars, and defeat was not fun to recall.
“I’ll murder them all,” Eric murmured into his beer. “I’ll save that half-orc for last. Make him watch while I tear his friends apart with my teeth.”
“They’re gone,” said Scott. “I know the aura of a Teleport spell when I see it.”
“Then we’ll find them,” said Eric. “How soon can you get the Scry spell?”
“It’s a fourth level spell,” said Scott. “I get my first one next time I level up, but I don’t want to waste it on Scry. I want Greater Invisibility.”
Eric slammed a meaty fist on the table. “Do you want to find those bastards or not?”
Scott sat back in his chair just far enough so that if Eric wanted to punch him, he’d have to stand up first. “It’s not a problem. I’m a wizard. I can write both spells in my book. It’s just that I get the first one for free. The second one will just be a little expensive.”
“You’re both wasting your time hunting that half-orc,” said Milton, lifting his beer to his bony face with arms thinner than the legs of the chair he sat on. He grinned in spite of his cloak still being damp with half-orc urine. “He’s well dead by now. I left that jerk a little surprise. That dagger I shoved in his gut was slathered with giant scorpion venom.”
“It’s still worth finding them,” said Nathan, barely visible in the dark corner. His white teeth gleamed through the shadow of his black hood. “Wouldn’t it be fun for me to turn his filthy body into a zombie?”
Nathan, Milton, and Eric looked at Scott.
“That would be badass!” said Scott. “Scry it is, then!” He raised his glass. The others raised theirs and they all clinked together.
