Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3) (14 page)

Chapter 16

Chaz waved goodbye as Tim, Julian, and Stacy drove off in Stacy’s car for D’Iberville. Having seduced Mordred online, he was of little use now for anything but babysitting two hillbillies and a gnome.

Dave was still asleep at a table, his face sitting in a puddle of his own drool. Chaz was pretty tired himself, but he’d caught a few winks on the road. He’d let Dave get a full rest before making him take over guard duty.

Professor Goosewaddle had his nose in the Caverns and Creatures Monster Manual, studying it like a biology textbook. “Where did they get all of this detailed information about the Tarrasque?”

“I don’t know,” said Chaz. “Maybe they asked it.”

“The Tarrasque cannot speak,” said the professor. “It says so right here.” He closed the book and stared at the cover. “No one’s seen the Tarrasque in over four thousand years. People scarcely even believe it exists. Who is this Larry Lilacs who claims to know so much about it?”

Chaz chuckled to himself. “Oh, I think he’s got a pretty solid claim there.”

“He sounds like a charlatan as well as a bigot if you ask me.”

“Hey,” said Randy from the kitchen. “We’s gettin’ hungry.”

Dennis licked his lips. “Tim mentioned somethin’ bout some chicken earlier. You mind if we fire up the oven?”

“Knock yourselves out,” said Chaz. He was feeling a little hungry himself. Chicken sounded pretty good. “You know how to work all that shit?”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it,” said Randy. “I’m a veteran of the fast food industry myself.” He said it like he’d served three tours in ‘Nam.

“You don’t say.”

“I do indeed.” He flicked a couple of switches. To his credit, the equipment immediately began to hum with life. “Y’all got any requests?”

Chaz looked up at the illuminated menu board above the counter. “Sweet ‘N Tangy looks good.”

“Dennis,” said Randy. “Would you top off the oil in the fryer?”

“No problem.”

“Chaz, would you mind grabbin’ a box of Sweet ‘N Tangy out the freezer?”

“Sure,” said Chaz. Both Randy and Dennis watched him as he walked past them through the kitchen. Katherine had smashed the shit out of the freezer door’s locking mechanism, so the door was held shut by a folding chair wedged under the outside handle. Chaz removed the chair and set it aside. The door swung open. The chilled air inside the freezer still carried a faint scent of shit.

He wiped frost off the labels of some stacked cardboard chicken boxes. Blue labels were
Original
. Red labels were
Spicy
. That made sense. These boxes would be the biggest sellers, and there were far more of them than there were boxes with differently colored labels. A small stack of green and orange labeled boxes sat at the back of the freezer. Chaz guessed the orange ones were –

The freezer door slammed shut. Chaz heard the folding chair being wedged back into place.
Oh no.

He ran to the door and pushed. It didn’t budge.

“Come on, Randy!” Dennis’s voice called faintly through the thick, steel door. “Let’s go!”

Chaz beat on the door. “Hey! Let me out of here!” It was pointless. The only ones who might have heard him were the ones who had trapped him in there. He backed up, then rammed his shoulder into the door. It hurt, but the door didn’t give an inch. In his real body, he could bench two hundred fifty pounds. Now he couldn’t overpower a goddamn folding chair.

He banged on the door as hard as he could, shouting for help at the top of his lungs until he finally ran out of breath.

“Hello?” said a high, faint voice.
Goosewaddle.

“Professor!” said Chaz.

“Yes?” said Goosewaddle. “Where are you?”

“I’m in here,” said Chaz, rapping sharply on the door. “The door’s stuck.”

“Ah yes,” said Goosewaddle. “There appears to be some strange metallic apparatus holding it shut.”

“It’s called a chair,” said Chaz. “Can you move it?”

After a brief scrape of metal on metal, the door swung open.

Professor Goosewaddle was carefully examining the folding chair. “Chair?”

Chaz ran through the open back door. There was no sign of Dennis or Randy.

“Shit!” he shouted. He’d never live this down. He stomped back into the Chicken Hut.

Professor Goosewaddle spread the rear legs of the chair apart from the front legs. The seat slid down to its horizontal position. “It
is
a chair! My, but that’s clever.”

“We are so fucked,” said Chaz.

“Sit down,” said the professor, gesturing proudly to the chair he’d just unfolded. “You seem distraught. Is something amiss?”

Chaz sat in the chair. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here at all?”

Professor Goosewaddle looked away. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Randy and Dennis just escaped,” said Chaz. “If they bring the police back here before we get Mordred, we’re fucked with a capital FUCK.”

“Would you like me to scry them?”

“To
what
them?” It had been a long time since he played C&C.

“Scry,” said the professor. “It’s a spell which allows me to see through their eyes.”

“Hell yes!” said Chaz. “Do it!”

“I will require a mirror or a crystal ball.”

“There’s a mirror in the office.”

“That one is cracked. The fragments are too small.”

Chaz combed his fingers through his hair, thinking as hard as he could. Finally, it hit him. “The bathroom!” He ran out the back door again. “Follow me.”

He ran around to the side of the building and pushed open the bathroom door. A warm, moist wave of urine and shit laden air forced him back a few steps. Bracing himself, he pushed the door open again. It looked like a shit grenade had been tossed in there. The toilet was utterly destroyed. Broken pieces of porcelain poked out like little icebergs in a brown sea of shit-water on the floor. As grim as the bathroom was, the one thing it had going for it was an unbroken mirror mounted on the wall.

“Merciful gods!” said Professor Goosewaddle. “What is this place? What happened in here?”

“This is a bathroom,” said Chaz. “Cooper happened.”

“How can I be expected to concentrate on my spell in an environment such as this?”

“You’ll just have to do your best. We’ve got to hurry.”

“Hurry indeed,” said the professor. “I don’t wish to spend one more second than is necessary in this foul pit.”

Chaz picked up the professor and leaned in to place him atop the sink counter. Fortunately, it was close enough so that he didn’t have to actually step into Cooper’s half-orc gumbo.

Professor Goosewaddle looked into the mirror and choked out a few words that Chaz couldn’t understand. After a few seconds passed, he said, “I see with the eyes of the one called Dennis.”

“Where are they?” said Chaz.

“I do not know,” said the professor. “I am not familiar with this place.”

“Well what do you see?”

“He is running. To his left there is coastline, and a vast, moonlit sea.”

“The Gulf,” said Chaz. “So they’re on the beach?”

“No,” said the professor. “They are on the other side of the great road. Dozens of those… oh, what were they called? Otto-mobiles?”

“Automobiles?” said Chaz. “You mean cars?”

“Yes, that’s it,” said the professor. “Do you know they light up in the front when it turns dark?”

“Car!” said Chaz. “That’s where they’re going. They’re making a break for Dennis’s squad car. We ditched it just a few miles away from – Hang on. Why didn’t you use this Scry spell to help us find Mordred?”

“Who’s Mordred?”

“You really have no clue as to anything that’s going on around here, do you?”

Professor Goosewaddle shrugged. “Nobody tells me anything. I’m just a gnome.”

“Let’s go,” said Chaz. “We’re wasting time.” He held out his arms to catch the professor.

Professor Goosewaddle jumped off the counter into Chaz’s open arms. “You’ll have to go alone. My little old legs can’t move as fast as theirs.”

“No way,” said Chaz. “Those two rednecks would kick my ass. I need you to magic them.” He ran around to the front of the building.

“But how?” asked the professor, waddling after him. “We have no Otto-mobiles.”

“We’ve got something better,” said Chaz. “An Otto-bike.” He wheeled his motorcycle out from the other side of the building. The keys were still in the ignition. He’d only meant to step into the Chicken Hut for a second to see what was keeping Katherine when Mordred tricked him into rolling that die.

“What is that?” asked the professor, clearly mesmerized.

“It’s like a car,” said Chaz. “It goes just as fast, only on two wheels instead of four.”

“You’re mad!” said the professor. “I’m not riding on that thing!”

“Oh yes you are. It’s the only way we’ll catch them.”

“Look at that thing!” cried the professor. “The only thing keeping it from falling over is a metal stick!”

Chaz pushed back the kickstand. “Happy?”

“And what happens if you let go of it?”

“What are you talking about?” said Chaz. His patience was wearing thin. “It’ll fall over I guess.”

“Exactly!” said the professor. “And that’s when it’s standing still. How much less stable will it be in motion?”

“It’s plenty more stable in motion. That’s the whole point!”

“You speak madness, boy! Have you ever tried to run with a book atop your head?”

“This is different,” said Chaz. He understood Goosewaddle’s argument, and didn’t know how to counter it.
Why does a bicycle or motorcycle stay upright while in motion?
He had no fucking idea. He just knew that it was true because – “How about a demonstration?”

“Come again?”

“If I show you that it’s safe, if you see it with your own eyes, will you stop being a little bitch?”

“Absolutely not,” said Professor Goosewaddle. “But please demonstrate anyway. I must see it.”

Chaz put the kickstand down and crossed his arms. “No.” He hoped Goosewaddle was as curious as he let on. Plan B involved tackling him, and Chaz knew that wouldn’t end well.

“Oh please!”

“Only once we have an agreement.”

Goosewaddle shook his little fists. “Fine! If it appears safe, I will ride with you.”

Chaz mounted his bike and turned the key. The engine roared to life. He twisted the throttle, and it roared even louder. Professor Goosewaddle took a step back.

“Watch and learn,” said Chaz strapping on his helmet.

“Oh, that’s very reassuring,” said the professor.

Chaz pulled out of the parking lot onto Beach Road. It felt good to be back on his bike. He rode up to the next light, turned around, and sped clear past the Chicken Hut. He caught Professor Goosewaddle staring slack-jawed at him. He made one more U-turn and pulled back into the Chicken Hut parking lot.

“Astounding!” said the professor. “It’s like a wheeled, mechanical horse!”

“Bon Jovi made the same observation.”

“Who?”

“Come on, Goosewaddle,” said Chaz. “Time to saddle up.”

“I’m sorry,” said the professor. “It’s just too terrifying. I can’t possibly –”

Chaz grabbed the professor by his arm and pulled him up onto the seat behind him. “Now hold on, and don’t try anything stupid or we’ll both die.”

Goosewaddle’s long, continuous scream drowned out the engine noise as Chaz pulled out onto Beach Road again. The little guy had quite a grip, but Chaz didn’t have time to worry about his kidneys being squeezed into his spine, or the unexpected rush of warmth he felt in the small of his back.

Also low on his list of worries was getting a speeding ticket. He was on his way to assault a cop anyway. They flew down Beach Road, swerving around cars or riding on the shoulder when they had to. As fast as they rode, it wasn’t fast enough.

When they pulled up behind Dennis’s car, Dennis stepped out from behind a nearby tree with a shotgun pointed at them.

“Get off the bike.” Dennis’s voice was shaky and nervous, which troubled Chaz far more than it would have if he’d been speaking forcefully and confidently. Arresting them might have worse consequences for him than just flat out murdering them.

“Take it easy, man,” said Chaz. “Let’s talk this through.”

“Get off the bike!” His voice was more resolute this time, as if he’d come to a stronger decision as to which way he was leaning.

Chaz got off the motorcycle, put the kickstand down, and then put Professor Goosewaddle down. The professor dropped to his knees and vomited.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Dennis.

“He’s never been on a motorcycle before.”

Dennis scrunched up his face in confusion. “Never?”

“He’s never even seen one.” Chaz took a step forward. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He wished he’d brought his lute along.