Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3) (3 page)

“So,” said Julian. “Back to the topic at hand?”

“You don’t make anti-venom like you make a fruitcake,” said Stacy. “It needs to be made inside a living organism. They usually use a horse, an animal big enough to shrug off a small dose of the venom. They inject the venom into the animal, and its body creates the anti-venom naturally. Then scientists extract it from their blood. It’s not all that complicated, really. The horse does all of the heavy lifting.”

“So you’re saying if I had a horse and the right kind of scorpion, we could make some ant-venom?”

Stacy looked at him curiously. “Well theoretically, I suppose, but it –”

“Hold that thought,” said Julian. “I’ll be right back.”

Julian bolted out of and around the side of the building as fast as he could. When Professor Goosewaddle saw him, he put his hands up innocently. Julian ran to the car and opened the professor’s door. “I need your help.”

“Whatever I can do,” said the professor.

“Do you have any monster summoning spells?”

“Of course! What do you need?”

“Good man,” said Julian. “Come with me.” He led the professor back to the front door of the building. “Listen, Professor. The woman you’re about to meet has never seen a gnome before, so forgive her if she seems a little uncomfortable.”

Professor Goosewaddle nodded his head. “I understand.” They walked into the waiting room.

“Stay here,” said Julian. He walked to the doorway of Dr. Baxter's office and knocked lightly. “Stacy?”

“Come on in.”

Julian opened the door, but remained in the doorway. “Stacy, I’d like to introduce you to my um… grandfather.”

“Your grandfather is with you?”

“Listen,” said Julian. “Let me give you a little heads up so you’re not freaked out by him.”

“Freaked out?”

“You see,” said Julian. “He’s short and kind of deformed.”

Stacy stood up and stomped toward the doorway. “Now what kind of way is that to talk about your own – oh my. Hello, sir.”

“How do you do?” said Professor Goosewaddle.

Stacy glared at Julian. “Why he’s just adorable! Shame on you.” She bent over and extended her hand to the professor. “My name is Stacy Swanson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr…”

“
Professor
Goosewaddle,” said Professor Goosewaddle, enthusiastically accepting her handshake.

“I beg your pardon,” said Stacy. “Please come into the office where it’s cooler.”

They followed Stacy into the office and Julian closed the door behind them.

“So, Professor,” said Stacy. “What is it you’re a professor of?”

“I dabble in a bit of everything, but my specialties are Illusion and Enchantment.”

Stacy opened the door of the mini-fridge in the corner of the office and looked inside. “Can I offer you something to drink? All I’ve got is diet Dr. Pepper, but I don’t think Dr. Baxter would mind if you had one of his root beers.”

“I’d love a root beer,” said Julian.

“And you, Professor?”

Professor Goosewaddle gave Julian a panicked look. Julian nodded.

“That would be lovely,” said the professor.

“I’m still unclear as to what you think I can do for you,” said Stacy, gathering soda cans to her chest. “Like I said before, you need a –”

“Horse,” said Julian. A white mare speckled with brown appeared in the office.

“Well yes,” said Stacy, closing the refrigerator door and standing up straight. “But that’s only part of – Jesus Christ!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Swanson,” said Julian. “I know this all seems very strange to you, but we’re desperate.”

“Where the hell did that horse come from?”

“Don’t mind the horse,” said Julian. “Just brace yourself for what’s next. Try not to freak out.” He looked down at Professor Goosewaddle. “We need a giant scorpion to attack the horse. Can you do that?”

“What?” said Stacy.

“Not a problem,” said the professor. He waved his arms above his head. “Tetraethyl Orthosilicate!” A black scorpion, only just smaller than the horse, appeared between it and the desk.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?” screamed Stacy.

The horse kicked at the scorpion, but missed. Its hoof connected with the Diet Dr. Pepper can, sending it smashing through the window.

“Ow!” Cooper shouted from outside.

Stacy’s back was pressed against the wall. She threw a can of root beer at the scorpion. It hissed and turned toward her, its giant, clawed feet tapping the linoleum floor.

The scorpion had already set its sights on Stacy. The tip of the stinger on its tail glistened with beads of venom. It crouched down on its front legs, raising its rear ones, and rammed its tail down toward her. She dove under the desk as the stinger plunged through the door of the mini fridge.

“Professor!” said Julian, ducking behind a chair in the corner of the room. “Make it attack the horse!”

“Attack the horse!” Professor Goosewaddle commanded the scorpion.

The scorpion ripped the door right off of the mini fridge, sending the rest of the appliance sailing across the office, smashing into a bookcase against the opposite wall. Diet Dr. Pepper cans and Barq’s Root Beer cans flew everywhere, along with a few cups of yogurt, a salad, and dozens of hypodermic needles. The massive scorpion snapped its front claws, then tore into the horse’s flesh, lifting it off the floor before driving its stinger into the horse’s side.

The horse whinnied in pain, then vanished.

“Goddammit,” said Julian. “You weren’t supposed to kill it. We just need to poison it.”

“Sorry,” said Professor Goosewaddle.

The scorpion thrashed its tail around, trying to shake the refrigerator door loose. It smashed a picture on the wall.

“Let’s try again,” said Julian. “Horse.” A shorter, but stockier, black draft horse appeared. “No claws this time, Professor. Just make it use its tail. And just once.”

“Be a good boy, Mr. Scorpion,” said the professor. “Give the horse a nice solid sting, would you?”

The scorpion obediently plunged its stinger into the horse’s side. The horse screamed and kicked, but fortunately did not disappear.

“Now get rid of the scorpion!” said Julian.

The professor snapped his fingers. The scorpion disappeared and the broken refrigerator door clattered onto the floor, bursting a cup of yogurt.

“It’s okay, Miss Swanson,” said Julian. “You can come out now. The scorpion is gone.”

Stacy tentatively peeked her head over the top of the desk. “Why is there a different horse here? What the hell is going on?”

The horse was in bad shape, blood dripping from the wound in its side. It groaned and shat on the floor.

“We’re sorry about the mess,” said Julian. “This might have worked better as an outdoor project.”

“Is everyone okay?” asked Cooper. He stood in the doorway with a black eye, holding a dented can of Diet Dr. Pepper. “I heard screaming.”

Stacy screamed again and threw her remaining root beer can at Cooper. “WHAT ARE YOU?”

Cooper caught the can before it could blacken his other eye. “Fucking hell, lady,” he said. “Don’t you know how to fight with anything but soda cans? Oh hey, Barq’s. Sweet!” He held up the dented Diet Dr. Pepper can. “You know they say this tastes just like regular Dr. Pepper, but that’s bullshit. This stuff tastes like ass.” He pierced the root beer can with a tusk and sucked out the liquid.

“Somebody better tell me what the fuck is going on before I really start to lose my shit!” said Stacy.

“Miss Swanson,” said Julian. “This is my friend Cooper. He’s the one that was poisoned.” He gestured at Cooper’s foaming wound. “We’ll be happy to answer all of your questions just as soon as we get him healed up. Now we’ve got a poisoned horse. What’s the next step?”

Stacy stepped carefully over soda cans, broken glass, and syringes, inching her way toward the exit. “Now you need to wait about ten weeks for the antibodies to build up in the horse’s blood.”

“We don’t have that kind of time!” said Julian. “The spell duration on that horse has less than two hours to go, and Cooper might have even less time than that.”

“I may be able to help,” said Professor Goosewaddle. “I’ve been working on an aging spell. I haven’t worked out all of the finer details, but what I’ve got so far might serve our purposes.”

“How’s that?” asked Julian.

“If I can magically age the horse, its body will go through the processes you require within the time frame of the Mount spell.”

“Good enough for me, Prof. Have at it.”

Professor Goosewaddle placed a hand on the horse’s front leg. “Furfuryl Furfurate.”

The horse’s eyes immediately began to glaze over. Its body withered, skin stretching around its bones. Its wound grew wider and festered rapidly. And then the horse blinked out of existence altogether.

“What the hell just happened?” asked Julian.

“Interesting,” said the professor, stroking his beard. “It would appear that the horse starved to death. I’ll make a note of it.”

“What’s the point of an aging spell if it doesn’t account for nourishment?”

“I said it wasn’t perfected yet,” said the professor. “Trial and error, lad. Trial and error.”

“Well shit,” said Julian. “You killed another horse. Now what do we do?”

Stacy made her move, bolting for the exit.

Cooper stepped in her way, but looked like he was only barely able to keep on his feet. “Not so fast, lady.” He leaned against the door frame. Urine trickled down his leg, forming a brown puddle around his foot.

“Shit,” said Julian. “His kidneys are giving out. He’s out of time. Stacy, we need a scorpion anti-venom right now.”

“Take as many as you want,” said Stacy. “They’re all over the floor.” Her voice was shaky. “Just let me go. Please!”

Julian picked up a few syringes off the floor. “These are all scientific names. I don’t know what any of them mean. Just help me find one for a scorpion, and you can go.”

Stacy got down on her hands and knees, picking up and discarding a few syringes before she found a satisfactory one. “Here,” she said, standing up and handing the syringe to Julian. “
Vaejovis Carolinianus
. It’s a scorpion. Nothing like the thing that trashed this office, but it’s all we’ve got.”

Cooper slid down the doorframe to a sitting position, wheezing a hollow laugh. “Anus.”

Julian ripped the plastic wrapper off of the syringe, uncapped the needle, and stabbed it into Cooper’s gut, pressing down on the plunger.

Cooper’s eyes rolled up in his head. He collapsed prone on the floor, his body convulsing. When he finally lay still, he let out a long, steady fart that Julian feared might be his spirit departing from his body.

“I’m sorry, honey” said Stacy. “I told you it was a longshot. There was nothing more you could've done.”

Professor Goosewaddle removed his cap and held it to his chest.

Cooper opened his eyes. “Is it okay if I smoke in here?”

“Cooper!” cried Julian. “You’re okay!”

“Not quite,” said Cooper, sitting up. “I still feel a little –” He belched up a gob of brown phlegm. “Oh, there it is. Yeah, I’m ship shape.”

“Ha!” said Julian. He grinned at Stacy. “You could have saved us a lot of time and trouble, Doc, if you’d just given us the antidote in the first place.”

“But I don’t understand,” said Stacy. “That couldn’t have worked so quickly.  It shouldn’t have worked at all. Wait, what the hell
are
all you people?”

Chapter 3

Tim experienced two new sensations on the way to Pass Road. He’d never before ridden shotgun in his own car, and he’d never before ridden in any car as a halfling. He had to stretch his neck to see over the dashboard.

“All right,” he said to Chaz, who was driving. “Slow down. We’re coming up on the first side street on the map.” He the map he’d printed out at the Chicken Hut. Four of the ten red circles in the neighborhood were on Ganders Road. That would be their first, and hopefully last, stop.

Chaz turned the car onto Ganders Road. Two large, windowless vans were immediately visible.

“I can’t believe this actually worked,” said Dave from the back seat. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“That one,” said Tim, pointing to a house on the left side of the quiet street. “That house is marked on the map. Pull up in front of there.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just continue driving in two cars?” asked Chaz.

“Never split the party,” said Tim. “It’s bad enough we’re split right now. God only knows what kind of disaster Cooper is causing. We need a Mystery Machine to keep everyone together until we find Mordred. Anyway, Katherine and her new friend are going to need to eat. Can you think of anything better than a pedo?”

“I don’t know,” said Chaz. “A stray dog maybe?”

“Dogs don’t drive vans,” said Tim.

“Or fuck kids,” added Dave.

“You don’t know this guy’s story,” said Chaz. “What if he’s on the sex offender list for something stupid, like pissing on the fence at a playground on his way home from a bar or something?”

“I predicted the van, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” said Chaz. “Lots of people drive vans. It’s not like they’re manufactured specifically to cater to the child-molester demographic.”

“We’re not going to hurt him right away,” said Tim. “We’re just going to bring him along to make sure he doesn’t report his vehicle stolen. If we don’t get a pedo-vibe from him, we’ll send him on his way after we find Mordred.”

Chaz sighed. “Fine. So what’s the plan? We just barge into this guy’s house and kidnap him?”

“Do you have the Charm Person spell?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” said Tim. “Start driving. I don’t want my car to be identified.”

They pulled into the parking lot of a nearby Rouse’s. There were a few cars, probably belonging to the opening crew, but it was still too early for the store to be open. Chaz parked the car at the back of the lot, near a dumpster. He and Tim got out.

"Bring your lute," Tim said to Chaz.

"Should I bring my mace?" asked Dave.

"Sorry Dave," said Tim. "You're going to have to stay here."

“What happened to
‘Never split the party’
?”

“Chaz and I can pass for human at a casual glance,” said Tim. “You look like a Ren Faire Santa Claus. Just hang out here, lie low, and we’ll come back for you with the van.”

Tim led Chaz back to their target’s house. To save time and keep out of view as best they could, they hopped over chain-link fences and cut through backyards as much as possible. They got barked at by a few dogs, but made it back to the house without any problems.

“Remember,” said Chaz. “We try the spell first.”

“Agreed,” said Tim. “But if it doesn’t work, we’ll have to jump him. Don’t let him close the door.”

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Chaz rang the doorbell. The better part of a minute passed, and Chaz was about to try again when the peephole in the door darkened. The deadbolt turned and the door opened inward. A man stood in a loosely-tied threadbare bathrobe. He might have been handsome a few years ago. He had the look of someone who used to be muscular, but had let it go to flab. His black hair was oily and sticking up. His facial hair was somewhere between intentional beard and neglect. He sucked the end of a joint as he eyed Chaz. He gave Tim a quick scowl, licked his lips, and looked back up at Chaz.

“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?”