Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3) (18 page)

“What?” said Dave. None of what Tim said made any sense to him. What the hell had they all gotten up to while he was sleeping. “Where are you?”

“We’re at the Olive Garden in D’Iberville,” said Tim. “Hurry up!”

“Wha… Olive Garden?”

“I don’t have time to explain!” said Tim. “Just get over here! Mordred’s got Stacy!”

A pair of scared green eyes flashed in Dave’s memory. The rest of her bore at most a passing resemblance. Her hair was darker and straighter. Her nose was a little thinner. But her eyes were unmistakable.

“Tim,” said Dave. “Mordred’s got Stacy, but she’s not in his car.”

Chapter 23

Cooper pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head as he followed Katherine across the parking lot toward Dick’s Sporting Goods. He didn’t pull the drawstring. Some cover was better than none, but he still needed to see. A couple of the shopping center groundskeepers gave him a cautious glance as they blew leaves and debris from the most recent summer storm into piles, but none of them ran away screaming or attacked him with their leaf blowers. That was as good a reaction as he could hope for.

The inside of Dick’s was alive with gossip and rumor.

“Now I don’t mean to be insensitive or nothin’,” one overweight goateed man said to another. “But if you got a kid with mental problems that severe, you need to keep that kid locked up.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said the second man. “Kids like that pose a danger to themselves and others. It’s just plain irresponsible to –” He wrinkled his nose. “Do you smell somethin’?“

Katherine pulled Cooper’s drawstring tight as they approached the two men. “Excuse me,” she said, taking advantage of the interruption of their conversation. “Did a naked, retarded boy just run past here?”

“Yes ma’am, he did.”

“Which way did he go?” Katherine’s voice was demanding and impatient. “He, umm… he needs his insulin, or he’ll really start to freak out.”

“He ran over there past the Menswear department and turned left, back toward Hunting and Fishing.”

“Shit,” said Katherine.

Cooper maneuvered his head until his lips lined up with the tiny opening in the front of his hood. “Do you think he knows how to use a gun?”

“Let’s not give him a chance to learn,” said Katherine. “Come on!”

“Sounds like we’d best skidaddle,” said one of the men.

Cooper pulled down his hood to see which way Katherine had gone.

“Jesus!” said the other man. They shoved one another, each trying to be the first to get out the front doors.

“Cooper!” shouted Katherine.

Cooper turned around and spotted her near a rack of New Orleans Saints football jerseys. Once he started running toward her, she continued on her way. As soon a she cleared the Menswear department, a gunshot echoed through the warehouse-like store.

Shoppers screamed and panicked, running this way and that, as Katherine stumbled back behind the cover of the football jerseys. When Cooper caught up to her, she was clutching a wound just under her left breast.

“Shit! Katherine!” said Cooper, kneeling next to her. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Katherine said through gritted teeth. “I just need a few seconds to regenerate.”

Cooper growled quietly. “That little fucker learns fast.”

“It wasn’t him,” said Katherine. She licked the blood off of her hand and frowned at the hole in her dress. “It was a store clerk. Ginny must have Dominated him.” She grabbed the sleeve of Cooper’s sweatshirt as she stood up on wobbly legs.

“Hey Kat, take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” said Katherine. She looked across the lane at Children’s Sportswear, where a young mother was crying on the floor, huddled protectively over her two kids. “Get the fuck out of here, lady!” After a couple more seconds of the woman’s confused crying, Katherine bared her fangs and hissed at her.

The woman didn’t need to be told a third time. She grabbed her two kids by the arms and dragged them toward the exit.

“It’s touching to see you care so much,” said Cooper.

“We need to clear these idiots out of here before someone gets hurt.”

“How?”

“I’ll take care of that,” said Katherine. “I need to cross over to the back of the store. Do you think you can provide some sort of distraction?.”

“I’m on it,” said Cooper. He grabbed a cardboard cutout of a blonde Saints cheerleader. “Get ready to move.”

“Hang on a sec,” said Katherine. “I’m going to make myself a smaller target.” She morphed into a normal-sized bat.

“Ready?” said Cooper. Katherine nodded her little bat head once. “Okay, go!”

Cooper peeked the head of the cardboard cheerleader out from behind the cover of the football jerseys. Another shot fired out. The top of the cheerleaders head flew off. Hopefully that had bought Katherine the time she needed.

“That’s her!” cried the voice of the little pain-in-the-ass halfling vampire. “The bat! Shoot it! Shoot it!”

Another shot fired, and an overhead lamp exploded, raining down sparks and shattered glass. But Katherine made it to the other side of the lane and out of the gunner’s line of fire.

Cooper breathed a relieved sigh and wondered briefly what Katherine needed at the back of the store. Then he stared at the football jerseys, frustrated that he couldn’t read the players’ names or numbers.
Illiteracy sucks.

An idea popped into Cooper’s head. He grabbed the biggest jersey he could find off the rack, and backtracked toward the front of the store. He turned right just before reaching the checkout stations, looking for the sports equipment.

As he ran, he couldn’t believe how many people were still hanging around. Most of the customers and staff had evacuated, though a lot of them were crowded against the front window, peering inside. But there were still a surprising number of people inside, just hanging around. Maybe they were too scared, too stupid, or too curious to move. Cooper ran past them. He stopped running when he saw a display of footballs. He walked down that aisle, scanning the shelves for football pads. He tore open a few boxes that looked promising, and eventually found shoulder pads, a back plate, a breast plate, elbow pads, knee pads, shin guards, a cup, a jockstrap, and of course, a Saints helmet. None of this would stop a bullet, but maybe it would slow one down, or deflect it, or maybe just provide a little Armor Class bonus. At the very least, it might keep that little fucker’s teeth out of his flesh for a minute or two.

“Are you homeless?” said a little boy without much self-preservation instinct. Cooper looked down at him. He guessed the kid was about ten years old.

“You better get lost, kid, if you ever want to sleep again,” said Cooper, still trying to keep his face as obscured as possible while still being able to see what he was doing. He faced away from the kid and pulled off his sweatshirt and tried on the shoulder pads. They were a little small, but they’d do.

“My dad says most of you guys are fakers, driving around in BMW’s after you spend all day harassing people for change,” said the kid. “But you look like the real deal to me.”

“Thanks,” said Cooper.

“What’s wrong with your ears?”

“Vitamin deficiency,” said Cooper. “I didn’t eat my vegetables when I was younger. Now beat it!” He put on the helmet, suddenly feeling sensitive about his orcish, misshapen ears.

Cooper peeked back to make sure the boy had gone. He had. Thank fuck. He pulled down his pants and sorted through the torn cardboard boxes, looking to see where he’d placed the cup and jockstrap.

“Where you been, Donny?” said a man in the next aisle. “I been lookin’ all over for you. It ain’t safe here.”

“I was talking to this homeless guy,” said the boy. “He took off his clothes and told me to beat it.”

“He said WHAT?”

Oh shit.
He’d wanted to say ‘Fuck off’, but deliberately chose not to swear at a ten year old kid.

As Cooper struggled to remove his pants from around his huge half-orc feet, he heard the unmistakable sound of aluminum baseball bats clanging and sliding against one another, as if one was being pulled from a pile.

When the crazy, angry redneck stepped into his aisle, Cooper was naked except for his head, shoulders and ankles. He was grateful that he didn’t have an erection.

“Jesus Christ Almighty!” said Donny’s father, staring down at Cooper’s bumpy, scabby junk. He turned toward his kid, who was out of Cooper’s field of vision. “Donny, did you touch this man’s wiener?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now stay there.” He turned to Cooper, slapping the business end of the bat into his open palm. “I’m gonna teach you the meaning of ‘beat it’.”

“This looks worse than it is,” said Cooper, standing up awkwardly, still trapped by his khakis.

Donny’s father took slow, deliberate steps toward him. “It’s about to look even worse, you sick sack of sh—” He paused, his expression changing from rage to bewilderment.

“Shit?” suggested Cooper.

“Just how many kids do you molest in a given day?”

“What the fuck kind of question is – AAAAAUUUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHH!”

A powerful set of razor-sharp teeth clamped onto Cooper’s right ass cheek. Pain seared through his entire backside. He lost control of his sphincter muscle and sprayed his assailant with a thick, chocolate coating.

Ginfizzle released his toothy grip on Cooper’s ass. Cooper looked back. The little vampire was covered from the neck down in yellow-brown, liquid shit.

“I… never…” Ginfizzle stammered.

Cooper snorted. “You literally bit the shit out of – OW!” Cold aluminum cracked into the right side of Cooper’s ribs. He turned just in time to avoid a second blow, caught the bat with his hand, and ripped it out of the angry father’s grasp.

Cooper raised the bat over his head, but Ginfizzle snapped out of his shit-induced shock just in time to disintegrate into a pink mist before Cooper could connect with his head. The bat passed harmlessly through the mist and struck the floor hard, sending vibrations up through Cooper’s arms.

The mist flowed out of the football equipment aisle and turned left.

Cooper grabbed Donny’s father by the shirt and pulled him close so that he could get a good look at his pissed-off half-orc face. “Don’t make me kick your ass in front of your kid. Do you understand?”

Donny’s father shut his eyes and turned away. “Dear Lord, is that… Funyuns?”

Cooper gave him a good shake. “Listen, man! I’m not fucking around. Some heavy shit is going down right now. It’s not safe for you and your –”

“You would hurt my master!” said a voice from Womenswear.

Cooper looked back. A bald man in a Dick’s uniform, sporting a Mr. Kotter mustache and a belt like the equator, was pointing a rifle at him. Two rats were scurrying toward him from behind.
That’s weird.

Screams broke out from all areas of the store at once. Mostly women, but a few men as well.

“Fuck,” said Cooper, releasing Donny’s father. “Run!”

Donny’s father took off. Cooper tried to run after him, but his pants were still wrapped around his ankles. He fell to the floor just before the Dick’s employee fired the gun. The bullet went through a football a good six feet from Cooper’s head, instantly deflating it.

“Ha!” Cooper called out. “I’m down here, asshole!” This guy was obviously a decent shot when he had time to line up his aim. He was useless when he had to shoot on the fly. Either that, or he was distracted by the rats nibbling at his ankles. Not wanting to gamble his life on it, Cooper scooted backwards, leaving a trail of shit and ass-blood in his wake, while the shooter kicked the rats away, reloaded his weapon, and advanced.

Where the fuck is Katherine?

Cooper continued scooting, though it was clear he wouldn’t be able to make it to the end of the aisle before the shooter got off another round. Cooper had a fair amount of Hit Points, but he didn’t know what the Damage range for a rifle was. And unless this guy got within a few feet of him – not likely – Cooper wouldn’t be able to fight back.
Fucking pants.

Cooper felt a pinch on his elbow. Another fucking rat. “Dude,” he called out to the approaching gunman. “You have a serious pest control problem.” He grabbed the rat and chucked it at him.

“The master must not be harmed,” said the gunman. He was now in the football aisle with Cooper. He held up his gun, lined up his shot, and sprouted a gigantic metal dick.

“What the fuck?” said Cooper.

The gunman moaned as he slowly collapsed to the floor. Donny’s father, standing behind him, relieved him of his gun as he went down, and removed the baseball bat from between his legs.

Cooper grinned. “Two balls, one strike!”

Donny’s father approached Cooper. “Do you want to tell me just what the hell is going on here?”

“A lot of scary shit,” said Cooper. “Now help me take these pants off.”

Donny’s father pulled on the pants while Cooper did his best to anchor himself on the floor.

“Cooper!” shouted Katherine, standing over the disarmed, still-moaning gunman. “What the hell are you doing?”

Cooper covered his junk with a scrap of cardboard. “Katherine! Where the fuck have you been? I thought you were supposed to get rid of all the people.” He pulled one leg free of his pants.

“I tried,” said Katherine. “I summoned a bunch of rats and told them to go bite people. It sort of backfired. Now everyone’s on top of checkout conveyers and display tables, screaming about the rats. Why is this man taking your pants off?”

“I thought a football uniform might give me a boost to my Armor Class,” said Cooper. “Besides, I shat in these like three times already.”

“Lord Almighty!” said Donny’s father, dropping his end.