Critical Failures II (Caverns and Creatures Book 2) (9 page)

Tim’s daydream was broken by a howl in the woods, followed by an explosion of black birds fleeing the trees.

“Aw hell,” said Pep. He hobbled hurriedly up the steps of a large wooden deck attached to the back of the house. It had a set of patio furniture made of unfinished wood. He set his crossbow on the table and produced a larger one from a massive wooden chest. This one could almost be considered a siege weapon, and it even had a scope.

“What is it?” asked Gorgonzola as he scrambled up the steps. “What’s going on?”

Pep cranked the winch on his giant crossbow and inserted a silver-tipped bolt as long as Tim’s arm. “Werewolves,” he said with a wicked grin on his face.

“Oh crap,” said Tony the Elf. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” said Pep. “The stupid sons of bitches keep tryin’ to make off with my pumpkins.” He pushed the smaller crossbow out of the way and stabilized the big one on the table. He licked his lips and closed one eye as he peered through the scope with the other.

“What do werewolves want with pumpkins?” asked Julian.

“Maybe they like pumpkins,” Tony the Elf said a little too curtly. Everyone looked at him. Even Pep spared him a glance before returning his gaze to his scope.

“Who knows why folks do what they do?” Pep scanned the pumpkin patch from one forested side to the other. “There’s one!”

Tim looked up. Sure enough, a hairy lupine figure was running across the clearing at breakneck speed. It didn’t lope and bound like he’d imagined a werewolf would. It looked more like it was just some scared hairy dude.

The trigger clicked and the bow made a mechanical
‘thwack’
. The bolt just missed its target and pierced through a pumpkin instead. The werewolf made no move to steal a pumpkin. It just kept running until it reached the safety of the forest on the other side of the patch.

“Damn!” said Pep, already cranking the winch again. Then his eyes brightened as he looked into his backyard. He cranked faster. “There’s another one. Big feller this time.”

The second werewolf was indeed bigger than the first one, and he ran more like an animal than a man. Still, its gait was oddly familiar. It stopped and ripped open the pumpkin that had been shot with the crossbow. Pep lined up his shot.
Thwack.

“Fuck!” shouted the werewolf, plucking the bolt out of its ass.

“Hey,” said Tim. “Was that Coo—”

Tony the Elf slapped him in the back of the head.

“Ow,” said Tim. “I wish people would stop doing that.” He glared up at Tony the Elf, who was glaring right back with a shut-the-fuck-up look on his face. Tim picked up the hint and looked over at Pep.

Pep wasn’t paying any attention to either of them. He already had a third bolt loaded. “This one’s nice n’ stupid,” he said.

The big werewolf was still standing there with a bolt in his hand and a hole in his ass when another bolt hit him in the small of the back.

“Goddammit!” it shouted, bending over backwards and plucking out the bolt.

“Coop!” shouted another familiar voice from the wooded area where the big werewolf had come from. “Get your stupid ass over here now!”

Pep started turning the crank on his winch again. “If I can take this big feller down, he’ll make a great wood chopper.”

“Do you really think it’s right, what you’re doing?” asked Tim. His voice was shaky.

Pep laughed as he loaded the next silver tipped bolt. “Why you’re a soft little guy, aren’t you. Lycanthropy is a disease. Believe me, the man inside that body would rather be dead than be the beast it’s become.”

Tim’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way to stop this guy from shooting Cooper again without actually giving Cooper’s identity away.

“Do you mind if I give it a try?” asked Julian.

“Why sure, young feller!” said Pep. He handed the crossbow to Julian. “Have you used one of these before?”

“Oh yeah,” said Julian. “I um… I use them all the time.” It was brilliant. Julian had already demonstrated his lack of proficiency with a crossbow. He’d at least buy Cooper a few seconds to gather his wits and move. He leveled the crossbow and peered into the scope.

“Don’t rush yourself,” said Pep. “You’ve got all the time in the –”

Thwack!

“Yeeeeoow!” howled Cooper, a fresh bolt poking out of his back.

“Shit!” said Julian.

“Dude!” said Tim. “What the fuck, man?”

“Well done, my boy!” said Pep, retrieving the weapon from a stunned and silent Julian. “Now shut up a spell while I put this big bastard out of his misery.” He flicked his hand at Tim.

“I don’t think –” Tim started to say, but the words weren’t coming out of his mouth. Also, he was deaf. He looked around. Tony the Elf was digging in his ear with his finger. Gorgonzola was slapping the side of his head. Julian was opening his mouth widely over and over again, presumably trying to make a noise. He turned back just in time to see Pep pull the trigger on the crossbow.

Tim looked towards Cooper and caught sight of the smaller werewolf. It moved so fast, it barely registered as more than a brown flash as it zipped out of the woods, snatched the flying bolt out of the air, and disappeared into the woods that it had originally come from. Cooper stumbled back toward the safety of the forest behind the other one.

The sound of Pep’s snapping fingers brought sound rushing back into Tim’s ears.

“Blah! Blah! Blah! Blah! Blah!” Julian shouted, until everyone turned around to look at him. He shut up.

“Did you boys see that?” asked Pep, still peering out at the werewolf-free pumpkin patch. “Ain’t never seen one run that fast before.”

“Yeah,” Tim said with a relieved sigh. “That was remarkable.”

“Well,” said Pep. “I suppose that wraps up today’s excitement.” He placed his giant crossbow carefully in its case, lowered the lid, and buckled it shut. He turned to face his guests with a broad smile. “Now how would you boys like – well I’ll be gods damned.” He was looking past them, out into the pumpkin patch.

The smaller werewolf popped out from behind the cover of the trees, jumped onto an impressively large pumpkin, and used it to spring himself into a somersault.

“The little one’s got some spunk in him,” said Pep. “I’ll give him that.” He frantically went to work re-opening his crossbow case as the werewolf landed flawlessly on his feet and did a series of cartwheels toward the other side of the pumpkin patch.

“The trick,” said Pep, squinting into the scope, “is to give him the proper amount of lead...” he moved the crossbow slowly ahead of the werewolf’s position. “… and wait for the perfect shot… and then…” 
Thwack! 
The bolt caught the werewolf right in the neck. He went down mid-cartwheel, disappearing into the sea of pumpkin vines.

Tony the Elf gasped. Whoever the guy in the other wolf suit was did not stand up.

“Ha!” said Pep. “That one could be a kill! Let’s see what his friend has to say about it.” He hurriedly loaded another bolt and aimed the bow right where he expected Cooper to exit the woods.

A moment of tense silence passed, but Cooper did not disappoint. He poked his wolf-masked head out from behind a tree, and Pep immediately fired. It hit the tree.

“Damn!” said Pep. “Too rushed.”

Cooper bolted out into the open, waving his arms like he was trying to ward off a swarm of mosquitoes as he ran. That only slowed him down and made him a bigger target. Pep hit him twice, once in the chest and once in a flailing arm, before he reached his partner in crime.

“Knock it off, fuckwad!” shouted Cooper, bending over to pick up whoever that other guy was. On his way back to cover, Cooper held the limp body he carried in front of him, but the one last shot Pep was able to get off found its way to Cooper.

“Ow!” said Cooper. “That’s my fucking ear, you sick bastard!” He yanked the one bolt out of the tree before taking cover again.

Pep kept his bow ready, aimed just to the left of their cover, but nothing emerged. He frowned and lowered his weapon. “I guess they done learned their lesson for today. I’ll bet you anything, though. Those stupid sons of bitches will be out there again tomorrow.”

He placed the giant crossbow back in its box. “Can I offer you fellers a drink? Lemonade? Something stronger?”

“I don’t know,” said Tim. He stared out beyond the pumpkin patch, desperately looking for some sign that the guy who had been shot in the neck was okay. “Maybe we should –”

“Lemonade would be lovely,” said Tony the Elf.

“You fellers just sit back and take in the fresh air,” said Pep. “I’ll be right back.” He hobbled through his back door.

Tony the Elf waited until the sounds of clinking glasses could be heard in the kitchen. He cupped his hands over the sides of his mouth and made a bird call. Two chirps and a high-pitched whistle. There was no response. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Julian.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tony the Elf snapped back at him. “What the hell was that business with the crossbow?”

“I was just trying to buy him some time.”

“Then why did you shoot him?”

Julian looked down. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You took aim at him and pulled the trigger!” Tony the Elf was doing his best to keep his voice below a scream.

“I must have rolled a 20,” said Julian. “I’m not even proficient with a crossbow.”

“What are you talking about? 
Everyone
 is proficient with a crossbow. It’s a Simple Weapon, for crying out loud!”

“The only time I ever tried to use one, it butted me in the face.”

Tony the Elf rolled his eyes, and Tim suddenly realized what he was about to say just before he said it. “You’re thinking about this all backwards. You didn’t roll a 20 this time, thank Christ. You rolled a 1 last time.”

“So you’re saying I’m proficient with a crossbow?” asked Julian.

“Of course you are, dumbass!”

“That would have been nice to know earlier,” said Julian. “I don’t have as many Hit Points as the rest of you guys.” 

Tony the Elf shook his head as he cupped his hands over his mouth to try his bird call again. Two chirps and a whistle. This time the call was answered by a long “Coo” and a “Yup yup!” 

Tony the Elf breathed a sigh of relief. Tim and Julian followed suit.

“What the hell kind of bird makes that kind of call?” Tim joked. Tony the Elf smiled at him.

“I dunno,” said Pep. “I hear it every now and again. I wish I could find it so as I could shoot it.”

He set a tray down on the table. It had a clay jug and five small glasses. “Now let’s get down to business. I presume your visit here today had purpose beyond destroying one of my gardeners.”

“We’re looking for a girl,” said Tim.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told about me, but I trade in pumpkins.”

“Why pumpkins?” asked Julian. Tim didn’t know whether Julian was sincerely interested in this crazy old man’s hobbies, or whether this was some kind of Diplomacy tactic. Reluctantly, he kept his mouth shut.

Pep shrugged. “I like pumpkins.”

“That doesn’t seem very evil of you,” said Julian.

That was maybe one of the least diplomatic sentences that Tim had ever heard. “What the hell are you –”

“I’m sorry,” said Julian. “I just have to know. My understanding of the rules is that only evil clerics can make and control zombies.”

“You got some gall, son,” said the old man. “You trespass on my property, destroy one of my gardeners, and then you have the nerve to sit there and judge me while you sip my lemonade?”

“You misinterpret my meaning,” said Julian, who didn’t look at all worried about having just insulted a homicidal priest whose hobbies included murder for sport. “It’s just the opposite, really. You have been a gracious and hospitable host, and I was second-guessing my own preconceptions of good and evil.”

“Is that so?” said Pep. He stared ponderously at Julian.

“What is it about pumpkins that you like?”

“They grow quickly,” said Pep. His time-worn eyes sparkled with the fervor of someone who is talking about something they are truly passionate about. “The vines are strong and determined. They’ll climb up fences or trees, strangle the life out of anything weaker. You got pumpkins growing in yer garden, you can forget about tomatoes and asparagus. The pumpkins will take over everything.”

“Well I guess that’s pretty evi—”

“It’s my sister,” Tim interrupted. “The girl we’re looking for, that is. We have it on good authority that she has recently acquired a large pumpkin.”

“I was just getting around to that,” said Julian.

“How recently,” asked Pep, “does your good authority claim she has acquired this pumpkin?”

“Sometime last night,” said Tim.

Pep sat back in his chair and stroked the white stubble on his chin. “It’s not proper business etiquette to give away personal information about my customers,” he said. “But in Millard’s case, I could make an exception. The poor guy gets lonely up there in that old fort of his. He’d welcome the company.”