Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3) (2 page)

“You put your hand inside and speak the name of the thing you’re looking for. Katherine, what are you looking for?”

“There’s someone else in the bag.”

“What?” said Julian.

“Oh no,” said Dave. “You don’t mean…”

Katherine reached into the bag. “Ginfizzle.”

“Who the fuck is Ginfizzle?” asked Tim.

Dave sighed. “He’s the halfling who ambushed us in the woods after we left Millard’s fort.”

“Katherine!” said Tim. “We didn’t put him in there to keep you company. You were supposed to eat that guy.”

“I did,” said Katherine, pulling a snarling, writhing former-halfling out of the bag. “He turned.”

“Take it easy, Ginny,” said Katherine. “It’s me.”

At once, the undead midget turned calm. He held the hand that Katherine had retrieved him with, and wrapped his other arm around her leg. He cowered behind her as he took stock of what must have been some very unfamiliar surroundings.

“Where are we, Master? What is this place?”

Katherine stroked his dirty, matted hair. “We’re safe, dear. Don’t worry.
Nobody’s going to hurt you.
” The last sentence was clearly meant more for everyone else’s ears than for Ginfizzle’s.

“It’s nice to see you’ve made a friend, Kat,” said Tim.

Katherine squinted as the morning light penetrated more densely through the blinds. She took Ginfizzle into a shadowy corner. “We’ll retire to the freezer. We’ll need to eat when we wake up. Something alive.”

Tim shivered. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Katherine opened the freezer door. “Jesus Christ!” she said. “It smells like — Oh God! Did someone take a shit in here?”

“Oh right,” said Tim. “Sorry about that. Mordred took a dump on the floor just before he left.”

“And the puke?”

Tim lowered his head. “That’s mine.”

“Wait a second,” said Katherine. “Mordred’s alive? Why aren’t you going after him?”

“We’re working on it!”

“Well excuse me!” Katherine snapped back at him, her canine teeth growing just a little longer and sharper. “You could have at least cleaned up the shit and vomit!”

“Why don’t you get your new best friend to do it?”

Katherine’s teeth retracted to their normal size. “Not a bad idea.” She grabbed a bucket, a mop, a sponge, and a bottle of industrial strength green cleaning liquid. “Oh Ginny!”

“I live only to serve you, Master!”

The two vampires retired into the freezer. Tim let out a satisfied sigh when the latch locked shut behind them. He wasn’t sure if Katherine trusted him to let her out or if she just forgot about the broken latch, and he didn’t care. Those were two headaches he could postpone until he was ready for them. Tim rejoined the party in the dining area.

“Oh, don’t you even get me going.” Professor Goosewaddle was in a heated exchange with Julian. “You’re listed here as being proficient with every type of weapon there is, and you get a bonus to Listen, Search, and Spot checks, whatever in the Abyss those are.”

“You’ve got racial benefits as well,” said Julian.

“Oh sure!” said the professor. “Let’s have a look at those again, shall we?” He flipped over to the appropriate page. “
Size
bonus to AC and attack rolls!
Size
bonus to Hide checks!” He jabbed his finger into the book every time he said ‘size’. “Bonus to attack rolls against
kobolds
and
goblinoids
! AC bonus against
giants
! Every bonus I get comes either from being short or a bigot.”

“Are you saying you’ve got nothing against kobolds?”

“Of course not,” said Professor Goosewaddle, keeping his eyes on the book. “I mean, not the
good
ones.”

“Would you be okay with your daughter marrying a kobold?”

“That’s preposterous!” said the professor.

Julian crossed his arms with a look of smug satisfaction.

“What?” the professor exclaimed. “They’re not even mammals!”

Julian relaxed his arms. “Well I guess you’ve sort of got me there.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Tim. “We’re all humans anyway.”

Professor Goosewaddle frowned at Tim. “What is this sad obsession you have with being a human? What’s so special about being a human? I’ve had farts that have lingered longer than a human lifespan.”

“So have I,” said Cooper, returning from the back of the store. “You guys will probably want to stick to the front entrance from now on.”

Professor Goosewaddle grimaced. “I was being hyperbolic.” He flipped through the book. “I think I know what the problem is. Let’s see what this ridiculous book has to say about humans.” He settled on a particular section of the book, flipped a few pages forward, and then a few pages back. “They don’t seem to be listed here. It goes straight from ‘Howler’ to ‘Hydra’.”

“That’s because you’re looking at the Monster Manual,” explained Dave. “Humans aren’t considered monsters.” Professor Goosewaddle’s wide-eyed, open-mouthed stare required further comment. “Um… That came out wrong.”

“I’m not so sure that it did!” said the professor. “It’s no wonder you’re all ashamed of who you are, reading this kind of…” He slammed the book shut and held it up. “Whatever this is!” He looked sternly around the room. “I’ll bet my shop that a human wrote this book.”

“I’d say that’s a safe bet,” said Dave.

Professor Goosewaddle examined the front cover of the book. “Hmph! Larry Lilacs. That’s a human name if I ever heard one.”

“Of course it’s a human name,” said Tim. “Everyone in this world is human. We were sent to your world by means of a magic that we don’t understand. We were playing this game, you see, and –”

“Playing games with forces you don’t understand is a good way to get yourselves in trouble,” said the professor.

Dave rolled his eyes. “Oh my God. It’s the eighties all over again.”

“Here’s the thing,” said Tim. “The magic dice sent us to your world and changed our human bodies into what you see before you. When you brought us back, we expected we would return to our human forms.”

The professor furrowed his brow. “It was a simple teleport spell. There were no transmutative properties to it.”

“This is pointless,” said Julian. “Mordred’s alive. He’s got the dice and the knowledge of how to use them. We find Mordred, our problems are solved.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” asked Tim.

“We’ll look for him,” said Julian. “We know he lives in Biloxi, and that he’s got a broken rear windshield. We can get online, make some educated guesses, stakeout some auto places. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Sounds like a long shot,” said Dave.

“I can’t wait until you have your first idea,” snapped Julian. “I'll be the first in a long line to tell you how stupid it is.”

“Knock it off, you two,” said Tim. “We’ve got bigger and more immediate problems. Cooper needs medical attention. Dave, you get on your phone and locate the nearest poison control center, or toxicology clinic, or whatever you can find.” He pushed a chair up against the counter, climbed up, opened the cash register, and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills. “Chaz, take this and buy a big bag of dog food for Butterbean.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to find dog food at this hour?”

“Try the shop next door,” said Tim. “The old couple that runs it are always up at the ass crack of dawn. I think the husband might even sleep there some nights.”

Chaz took the money and left.

“Next step,” said Tim. “We need to sort out transportation. I’m thinking our safest bet is a large, windowless van.”

Julian let out a halfhearted laugh. “Does anyone know any pedophiles?”

“Brilliant,” said Tim.

“What?” said Dave.

“It was only a lame joke,” said Julian.

“It’s perfect,” said Tim. “Julian, get on the office computer and check out the local sex offender registry. One of those fuckers is bound to have just what we’re looking for parked right in their driveway.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Dave.

“Did you find anything yet?”

“Why don’t we just get Professor Goosewaddle to teleport back to the shop with Cooper. Maybe he’s got an antidote, or he could take him to see a higher level cleric or –“

“Absolutely not,” said Tim. “The second we cross back over, Mordred will be in control, and he will squash us like bugs. No monsters, no contrived storylines. Just a big fucking thumb from out of the sky. Now did you find a place or not?”

Dave looked down at his phone. “I’m still working on it.”

“Then work on it!” said Tim. “Cooper, how are you holding up?”

Cooper looked listlessly down at his character sheet. “My Constitution is still 8, but I don't feel so good.”

“We’re running out of time,” said Tim. “We’re going to have to split up.”

“I found something!” said Dave. “Bayside Poison Control, in Old Town Bay St. Louis.”

“That’s thirty minutes away from here,” said Tim. “You couldn’t find anything closer?”

“Nothing that wasn’t part of a major hospital,” said Dave. “I figured we’d be safer with a smaller clinic than trying to escort a half-orc through the halls of Gulfport Memorial.”

Tim nodded. “Good thinking.”

The bell jingled as the front door burst open, and Tim nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Whoa, chill out dude,” said Chaz, struggling to carry a forty pound bag of dog food. “It’s just me.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” said Tim. “I thought it was a customer. Lock the door behind you.” He retreated to the kitchen for some bowls.

“What are you guys doing?” asked Chaz, following Tim.

“We’re looking for pedophiles,” said Julian.

Chaz placed the dog food on the counter. “Are you sure that’s the most productive possible use of our time?”

“Holy crap,” said Julian, the sharp features of his elven face illuminated by the light of the computer screen. “These little side streets off Pass Road are lit up like it’s some kind of pedo community. Ew… I’ve delivered pizza to some of these addresses.”

“Perfect,” said Tim. “Print out a map.” He spotted Katherine’s gym bag in the corner, unzipped it, and pulled out an elastic headband. “Here,” he said, handing the headband to Julian. “You can't keep walking around in that stupid sombrero, but you still need to cover your ears. You and Chaz are the only ones who will be able to pass for humans of driving age.”

Julian put on the headband. “How’s that?”

“You look like Jane Fonda. Do you have a Papa Joe’s hat in your car?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” said Tim. “Wear it. Take Cooper and Professor Goosewaddle to the toxicology clinic in Bay St. Louis in your car. How’s your phone battery?”

“Low,” said Julian. “But I’ve got a charger in the car.”

Tim grabbed his keys off the desk and walked out of the office, back into the dining area. “Chaz, you and Dave are coming with me. We’re going on a trip to Pedo-topia.”

“What’s up with the pedophiles?” asked Chaz. “Are you looking to get laid?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” said Tim, tossing Chaz the keys. “You’re driving.”

Chapter 2

“I’m sorry it’s got to be this way, Cooper,” said Julian, holding open the trunk of his mom's Volkswagen Passat.

“It’s cool,” said Cooper, shoving the tire-change kit to one side.

“Cops will arrest a guy for being black around here,” said Julian. “If they saw you, I think they’d just open fire.”

Cooper climbed into the trunk, rested his head on the tire-change kit, and curled into a fetal position. “I said it’s cool. I don’t mind riding in the trunk.”

“And there are my back seats to consider,” said Julian. “I mean, I’d prefer you didn’t soil yourself in the trunk either, but it’s easier to –”

“Dude, stop talking.”

“Okay, here we go. Watch your fingers.” Julian closed the trunk then opened the front passenger door. “Come on, Professor. Hop in.”

“What sort of carriage is this?” asked Professor Goosewaddle. “Shall I summon some steeds to pull it?”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Julian. “Just get in and sit down.”

The professor cautiously crawled up onto the passenger’s seat. Julian closed the door behind him, walked around the front of the car to the driver’s side, and looked up into the sky.

“Ravenus?” Julian called out.

“Right here, sir,” said Ravenus, circling down from around the other side of the Chicken Hut.

“I thought you were on the beach scrounging for food.”

“I had a look.”

“Did you find anything you liked.”

“Bits and bobs, sir.”

Julian opened the back door of his car. “I’m going to need you to ride in back. “In fact, it’s probably best if you stay down on the floor behind my seat, just so nobody sees you. We’re trying to keep a low profile. Is that okay?”

“I live only to serve you, master Julian.” Ravenus hopped into the back footwell.

Julian closed the door behind Ravenus and got into driver’s seat. He leaned past the professor and pulled the seatbelt over him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Professor Goosewaddle demanded. Julian only just got the belt clicked into place as the professor tried to squirm his way out of it. “I’m warning you, elf! Release me this instant, or so help me!” His tiny right hand glowed red as a ball of fire grew in the palm.

“Dude, chill out!” said Julian. “It’s just to keep you safe. Look, I’m wearing one, too.” He pulled his own seatbelt across his chest and clicked it into place.

“Oh,” said the professor. He closed his hand around the fiery sphere, and the inside of the car became dark once again. “Sorry.”

Julian turned the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to life. Professor Goosewaddle pressed his lips together, as if trying to hold back a torrent of questions. When Julian put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking space, the gnomish professor cried out.

“By the gods, it moves!”

Julian smiled. “Oh, it moves all right. You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He shifted to second gear and pulled out onto Highway 90. He stayed in second gear a little while longer than he normally would have while he accelerated, enjoying the wide-eyed shock on Goosewaddle’s face. Then he cycled up to fifth gear as he approached his target speed of a non-suspicious five miles-per-hour over the speed limit.

“What manner of sorcery propels this vehicle?” asked the professor, running a finger across the cracked vinyl of the interior door handle.

“Um…” said Julian, unsure of how to answer. “Internal combustion?”

“Fireballs?”

“Sure.”

“Sir,” said Ravenus from the rear footwell.

“Yeah?” said Julian. “What’s up, Ravenus?”

“There are some snacks down here. Would you mind if I helped myself to some of them?”

“Since when do you eat people snacks?”

“They’re dead bugs.”

“Ew,” said Julian. He really needed to clean his car more often. “Knock yourself out.”

“If the vehicle is propelled by fireballs exploding inside it,” said Professor Goosewaddle, “then how is it that we, too, are not exploding?”

“Listen, Professor,” said Julian. “I know all of this is very strange to you, and that you have a lot of questions. But I’m not equipped to answer those questions. We live in a world where very smart people, scientists and engineers, make things so that the rest of us stupid people don’t have to understand how they work. It’s great for us. It allows us to have all sorts of luxuries without having the first clue as to how they work.”

Professor Goosewaddle frowned. “That sounds dangerous.”

“Here’s an example,” said Julian. “Do you like music?”

“What a peculiar question,” said the professor. “I don’t know of anyone who actively dislikes music.

“Okay, good. Just sit back and enjoy.” Julian, keeping his eyes on the road, fumbled around behind the back seat until his hand found his CD binder. He pulled out a random CD.
The Pixies: Doolittle
. He nodded to himself in approval. There couldn’t be a better introduction to the music of Earth. He slipped the disc into the slot. They were only about five seconds into
Debaser
when Professor Goosewaddle flipped the fuck out.

“What is this?” cried the professor. “Make it stop!” He leaned forward, stretching his little gnome arm out to punch random buttons on the car’s center console.

“Hey!” said Julian. “Knock it off!”

“I feel the icy breath of the spirits within!”

“You just turned on the air conditioner, you idiot.” Julian slapped the professor’s hand away and turned off both the AC and the music. “Now just sit back and behave yourself. Don’t touch anything.”

They drove in silent peace for a good thirty seconds or so before the passenger’s side window went down. Julian glanced to his right. The professor had found the window button. No harm in that, really. As long as he didn’t actually try to jump out the window, it was harmless. And he supposed they could use some fresh air.

And then the window went back up.

And then down.

And then up.

And then down again.

And then up again.

Julian made it through about six more cycles of this before he lost his shit. “STOP! Just stop it already! It goes up, it goes down! You’ve cracked the code! You’ve unraveled the mystery! Just please sit still for five more minutes!”

Bayside Poison Control was easy enough to find. It looked to be a fairly new building in a part of town that had otherwise not seen much construction after hurricane Katrina had wiped the place flat. The only other car in the small parking lot beside the building was an early 90’s era Toyota Corolla. Not really what Julian expected a doctor to drive. Maybe toxicologists weren’t paid as well as neurosurgeons. Maybe he was just frugal. It didn’t matter. They were here. Julian parked the car, pulled up the handbrake, turned off the engine, and removed the key.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Julian said to Professor Goosewaddle and Ravenus. “I’m just going to run around front and see if this place is open.” He pointed at the professor. “Don’t touch anything.”

If not for the sign out front and the fact that it had a modest parking lot, the building could have easily been mistaken for a quaint suburban house. It had yellow siding, green-shuttered windows, and a friendly red door. A plaque to the side of the door read “Harvey Baxter PhD Toxicology”. This was the place, all right. Julian turned the knob. It turned freely. That was good. The door was unlocked, which meant the place was open. He pushed the door open and started to step inside.

HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!
Julian’s car alarm was competing for attention with The Pixies’ Doolittle album.
Fuck.

Julian ran back around to the side of the building. His car was not where he had parked it, not even facing the same direction. It had swerved to the side and backed into the Corolla. The windshield wipers were flapping back and forth as fast as they could go. The hazard lights were flashing on and off. The gas tank and trunk were both wide open.
Cooper!

“Goosewaddle!” Julian cried. “What are you doing?”

The professor, still in his seat, opened the window. “I’m sorry. I got bored.”

“I wasn’t even gone a minute!” said Julian. “How did you turn on the car? I took the keys out!”

“It was nothing,” said the professor, looking mighty pleased with himself. “A small, focused modification of a Lightning Bolt spell into the keyhole did just the trick.”

“Well make it stop!”

The professor snapped his fingers and the car fell silent.

“What the hell is going on out here?” shouted a voice much younger and more female than Julian had anticipated. “It’s seven o’clock in the – my car!”

“Don’t make a fucking sound!” Julian whispered at the professor. He whirled around, trying to obscure the woman’s view of Professor Goosewaddle while scanning around for any signs of Cooper, hoping desperately not to find any.

A young woman glared at him with striking green eyes. Her hair was an explosion of auburn curls, no doubt exacerbated by the humidity. She wasn’t exactly what he expected Dr. Harvey Baxter to look like. But she had a lab coat on, and that was credentials enough for him.

“Um,” said Julian. “Sorry about that. I’ll pay for that.”

“You’re goddamn right you will, amigo,” said the woman in the lab coat.

“Huh?” said Julian. “Oh right, the serape, and the… This isn’t… I can… Um, are you Dr. Baxter?”

“Do I look like a Harvey Baxter to you?”

“No, I just thought –”

“I’m his assistant,” said the woman. “Dr. Baxter won’t be in until ten. My name is Stacy. What do you want?”

“I, uh…” said Julian. “I’ve been poisoned. I got stung by a scorpion.”

Stacy put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t appear to be in a lot of pain.”

“I mask my feelings because I’m insecure?”

“Know what I think?” asked Stacy. “I think you’re full of crap. Show me where the scorpion stung you.”

“Okay, I lied,” said Julian. “It wasn’t me. It was a friend. I need to get a dose of scorpion anti-venom and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“This isn’t a supermarket,” said Stacy. “You don’t just walk in and pick up some scorpion venom. It’s more complicated than that. Where is this
friend
of yours anyway?”

Julian was losing ground. It was time to pull out the big guns. “Listen, Stacy,” he said. “I know I’ve made a bad first impression. But my friend is in some serious shit. If I don’t help him, he’s going to die.” He hoped that the fact that he was telling the truth would lower the Difficulty Class on his attempt at Diplomacy.

Stacy crossed her arms and stared at him for a moment. “Fine,” she said. “Come on in. I need to get your insurance information anyway.”

Julian turned back to give Professor Goosewaddle a warning glance, then followed Stacy back to the front of the building.

The interior matched the exterior’s suburban home theme. The waiting room was furnished with comfortable, orange sofas on opposite walls. A coffee table sat between them, stocked with an assortment of science and wildlife magazines. The beige linoleum floor shone like the surface of an operating table.

“Sit down,” said Stacy.

“I’m sorry,” said Julian. “Time is kind of a factor here. Can you at least tell me whether you have any scorpion venom antidote here or not?”

“It’s not that simple,” said Stacy. “And I’m still not sure I believe you.”

“What kind of scam do you think I’m trying to pull here?” said Julian. “Why would I be asking you about scorpion anti-venom if I didn’t really need it? Are the kids using it recreationally these days or something?”

“Do you even know what kind of scorpion stung your friend?”

Julian shrugged. “I’m guessing
dire
.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Julian pleaded. “We’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

“It most certainly
does
matter,” said Stacy, walking into a large office. The name stenciled on the opaque glass was Harvey Baxter. Julian followed her. “If you use the anti-venom from the wrong type of scorpion, it’ll probably have no effect whatsoever. It might even do more harm than good.”

“Well can we make some?”

“Make some?”

“Yeah, just give me a list of ingredients or whatever and we’ll whip up a batch. What’s in anti-venom? Vitamin C? Riboflavin? Yellow Number 5? Sprite? What?”

She walked around a desk to the window behind it and pulled the cord to raise the blinds, smiling back at Julian and shaking her head. “Riboflavin?”

When the blinds went up, Cooper was standing, like the giant monstrous dumbass that he was, right there in the window.

“Oh shit!” said Julian. Catching himself before she had the time to turn around, he pointed to the first thing his eyes could find, an open can of Diet Dr. Pepper on the desk. “You’re drinking soda this early in the morning?”

“What?” said Stacy. “I’m not a coffee person.” Cooper ducked out of the way just before she turned back to the window. She lifted it open. “Whew? What’s that smell?” She closed the window again.