by Robert Bevan
Critical Failures IV
The Phantom Pinas
By Robert Bevan
Copyright 2015
For Mehghan and Jack
Pinas: (from Wikipedia) “The pinas, sometimes called “pinis” as well, is one of two types of junk rigged schooners of the east coast of the Malay peninsula, built in theTerengganu area.”
Junk rig: (from Wikipedia) “The Junk rig, also known as the Chinese lugsail or sampan rig, is a type of sail rig in which rigid members, called battens, span the full width of the sail and extend the sail forward of the mast.”
You can probably see where this is going.
Chapter 1
Spirits were high at the Whore’s Head Inn. There was plenty to celebrate. The Horsemen were gone. Enough of the roof was rebuilt so that anyone who didn’t mind the noise could sleep somewhere other than the cellar. And, of course, there were the new arrivals.
Frank had personally welcomed Stacy, Randy, and Denise (as she was now calling herself) from his seat atop the bar. His little red shoes swung back and forth at the bottom of his blue and red striped pants as he cordially explained the no violence against fellow Player Character policy of the inn and poured them each a glass of beer. He raised his own glass, which was the same size as everyone else’s, but looked comically large between his little gnome hands. Once Stacy, Randy, and Denise raised their glasses in return, they all took a sip of beer and the initiation ceremony was complete.
After that, it didn’t take long for Randy and Denise to fade out of the spotlight. In fact, Julian couldn’t recall seeing either one of them for at least thirty minutes. Frank’s attention, (as was the attention of most of the unclaimed male residents of the Whore’s Head Inn), was fixed on Stacy. Her skin-tight black leather “armor” drew a lot of attention, which Julian found ironic, considering it was probably designed to help her hide in the shadows.
“So then this big doofus,” Frank said, nodding down the bar at Cooper, who was sitting on the stool on Stacy’s left,“he gets right up in Eric’s face and says I must have left it in your mom.”
Stacy was a rowdy drunk, and laughed like she was being stabbed with a hot poker. It was almost more than Julian’s elf ears could take. It didn’t help that she punched him in the arm as well. It was a jovial gesture to be sure, meant to invite him to share in her mirth, but damn could that girl pack a punch.
And she could drink like a sailor as well. She sucked back a shot of stonepiss, slammed the glass down on the bar next to half a dozen other fallen soldiers, and wagged a finger at Cooper.
“Bad Cooper!” she said in mock sternness. “No Funyun!”
When she finished laughing at her own joke, Frank continued his story. “I thought we was all gonna die right then and there. But with nothing to lose, every person in the joint with a bow or a Magic Missile spell focused their aim on him. The big bastard turned tail and walked out. It was a turning point for us. That’s when we realized we didn’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“That’s very inspirational,” said Stacy. She slapped Cooper on the back.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.”
“Of course,” said Frank. “He and his pals came back later and burnt the place to the ground, killing two of us.”
“Oh!” Stacy clapped her hands over her mouth. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
Frank smiled and waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t be. Theypulledthrough.Ain’t that right, Rhonda?”
“Yeah,” said Rhonda, filling up two beer mugs. “I’m just hunky-dory.” She still wore a scarf around her head. Her skin wasn’t scarred or anything, but her hair was taking its time growing back to a length she was comfortable with.
Julian felt a tug on the back of his serape. He turned around, but there was no one behind him.
Tug, tug.
Julian looked down. Tim was staring up at him through drunk, bleary eyes.
“Hey, Tim. What’s up?”
Tim gestured for Julian to lean down. Julian obliged.
“Dave’s out back taking a shit,” Tim whispered into his ear. Before Julian had time to thank him for the update, he continued. “The wipes are too high up for him to reach. You think you could go out and give him a hand?”
“Uh…okay.”Julian welcomed the idea of stepping out for a bit of fresh night air, but seeing Dave squatting over a hole wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.“Save my seat?”
Tim smiled. “Gladly.”
Julian helped Tim up onto the stool. Tim slid his hip flask across the bar for Frank to fill up. He didn’t even bother with glasses anymore.
“Hi, Stacy,” said Tim.
“Tim!” Stacy ruffled his curly hair. “How’s my favorite little drunk?”
“I’m actually a full-grown adult, you know.”
Julian sensed a punch coming, and stood ready to catch Tim if he should go flying off the stool.
Stacy’s punching arm, however, was occupied with getting her glass refilled. “I’m just fucking with ya!” Her focus shifted to Julian. “Where do you think you’re going?”
To give my ears a break.
To help Dave wipe.
“I gotta pee,” Julian lied. “I’ll be right back.”
Stacy grinned and winked at him. “Don’t get lost.”
Julian slipped through a section of unfinished wall at the back of the inn. The air outside was refreshingly cool and crisp, more so than he remembered it being before their brief sojourn in the real world. Autumn must be on its way. He hoped the winter here wouldn’t be too cold. One of the best things about moving from Buffalo, New York to Gulfport, Mississippi– indeed, maybe the only good thing – was the weather. If Julian never saw another flake of snow for the rest of his life, he could die a happy man. He made a mental note to ask Ravenus what winters here were like. Rounding the corner to the back of the building, he spotted the outhouse, one of the first parts of the building to have been rebuilt, probably even before the bar. It was situated next to the kennel where the wizards’ and sorcerers’familiars, and the druids and rangers’ animal companions stayed. The animals didn’t mind the smell, and the constant din of animal noises gave the occupant a little bit of privacy while they were doing their business.
Julian knocked on the door.“Dave? You in there?”
No answer. Maybe he was concentrating.
Julian knocked harder and raised his voice. “Dave?”
Still no answer, and the door didn’t feel locked.
Julian cautiously pulled on the handle. The door opened a bit, and nobody screamed from inside, so he opened it the rest of the way.
Of all the modern conveniences the residents of the Whore’s Head Inn had collectively decided they could live without – cars, HBO, electricity used as anything but a means to blast your enemies to smoldering bits – toilet paper was the one thing nearly everyone insisted upon. Julian hadn’t yet had the opportunity or the nerve to inquire as to how the locals cleaned up after themselves, but he made sure to wash his hands thoroughly at his first opportunity after shaking anyone’s hand.
Frank had worked out a deal with a nearby tailor who agreed to save scraps of fabric that he would have otherwise thrown out in exchange for Frank’s agreement to have all of their tailoring done at his shop.
The stack of irregularly shaped scraps of linen and wool was on a shelfmounted inconveniently high for a dwarf, halfling or gnome to reach, which was an oversight that should certainly be addressed, but Julian didn’t think it looked impossible. There was even a small wooden crate on the ground, presumably put there as a temporary solution until someone got around to actually remounting the shelf.
Conspicuously absent from the lavatory, Julian observed with some cur
iosity, was Dave. Had Tim deliberately sent him on a wild goose chase, or –
“Hey!”came a voice from the other side of the animal pen. It was barely audible over the collective murmur of wolves, cats, owls, and other assorted animals, so Julian assumed it was not directed at him. His elven ears were much more sensitive than his human ones had been, and he had learned, through many a trial-and-error, to stop answering every address he heard. Still, it was a female voice, and Julian thought he might have heard a trace of distress in it.
Julian cleared his throat as he approached the alley between the Whore’s Head Inn and the charred remains of the abandoned building next door.
“God dammit, Randy! Lower!” Dennis’s female dwarf voice was not entirely dissimilar to the voice he’d had before. “If I wanted it in the pooper, we’d have done this a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry,” said Randy, whose voice hadn’t changed at all. “It’s all slippery down there. It feels weird.”
By the time Julian had formulated an image in his mind as to what he was about to walk into, the image was right there in the pasty, hairy flesh, holding him trapped like a deer in headlights.
Dennis, or Denise as she was now known, stood on a hastily stacked pile of lumber, bent over forward, pants around the ankles, bracing herself with one arm on the wall of the building. Randy was behind her, eyes closed, listlessly thrusting his pelvis.
“That’s how it’s supposed to feel, you fuckin’ queer. Hey, now! Don’t you go soft on me, Randy. Just think about Caillou, or whatever it is you jack off to at home, and –” He looked up, right at Julian.“MotherofFuck!”
“Wha-wha-wha?” was all Julian could stammer out.
Denise lost her balance and fell forward off the stack of boards.
Randy stopped tugging on his semi-erect penis and started crying. “I told you, I ain’t like that! He said he was twenty-two! He had an I.D.!”
Denise scrambled to pull her pants up. The left side of her beard was caked with shit. With the high concentration of familiars and animal companions, it was wise to watch where one stepped.
“What the fuck, Confucius?” said Denise. “What’s a lady got to do for a little privacy ‘round here?”
Julian snapped out of his trance. The game might have switched Dennis’s gender, but he was still the same racist redneck asshole on the inside.“My name is Julian. And you’ve got shit on your face.”
Randy choked back a sob as he pulled up his pants. “You ain’tgonna tell no one, is you?”
Julian shook his head. “I’m going to do everything in my power to erase this from my memory. Have either of you guys seen Dave?”
“Is he the husky one with the big beard?”
“That’s him.”
“He said he was gonna turn in early, on account of he wanted to get a good night’s sleep without no more bad dreams.”
“Is that right?” Julian bit his lower lip thoughtfully.
“You got wax in those big ears, Charlie?” said Denise. “Your little butt buddy ain’t here. Show’s over. Take a hike.”
Julian nodded, and walked back briskly in the direction he had come from. After clearing the outhouse, he nearly ran right into Stacy.
“Stacy!”cried Julian. “What are you doing back here?”
“I was looking for you,” said Stacy. “I thought you might have gotten lost.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I told you not to do that.”
“Where’s Tim?”
“He fell asleep on the bar. Frank said it happens all the time, and to just leave him there.”
Julian nodded. “He’ll be out for a while.”
Stacy tried to look past Julian, and Julian shifted his stance to block her view. This, of course, only served to make her even more curious. “What are you doing sneaking around out here in the dark?” She feigned left and stepped past his right.
Julian grabbed her by the arm. “Please, Stacy. Don’t go back –”
She stopped him with a cold stare. She looked down at his hand on her arm, then back up into his eyes.
Julian released her. “I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s –”
Stacy grabbed him by the arms, shoved him against the wall, and thrust her tongue into his mouth.
Julian’s thoughts grew fuzzy as all the blood in his head raced down to his groin.
Chapter 2
Tim had laughed when Katherine told him she was stepping out for some air.
“You don’t even breathe,” he said.
Well fuck him. Why should she even bother reporting her comings and goings anymore? Nobody ever consulted her before making decisions. Just stuff the bitch in a bag. Toss her a rabbit from time to time.
She beat the air with her leathery wings, climbing higher into the sky. What the hell were they doing back in Nerd World? She wanted so badly to be angry with her brother and his idiot friends, even if she knew in her cold, dead heart that everything they’d done was to protect her.
They killed her fiancé, Millard. Sure, he’d killed her and magically coerced her affection, but Tim didn’t even listen to her objections.
They killed Ginfizzle. Sure, she’d been trying to kill him as well, but they didn’t even let her say goodbye.
And now they brought her back here, in a fucking bag, without even asking her opinion on the matter. Sure, the bag was only there to keep her out of the sun, but she still wanted to punch something.
The mountain grew closer as she flapped. Millard’s keep, her home for most of her previous stay in this world, was a jagged silhouette against the moonlit clouds.
She emitted a screech as high and loud as her dire throat could force out. A second later, the image formed in her mind, as clear as if she was seeing it with her eyes. At least two dozen shambling corpses guarded the keep, still obeying the command of a master who had long since turned into dust. They’d do nicely.
Spotting a relatively zombie-free landing spot, Katherine changed from her dire bat form to her half-elven form about ten feet from the ground. She hit the ground harder than expected, and skinned both of her knees. No big deal. They’d heal by the time she got to her feet. But she really needed to work on that entrance before trying it in front of anything living.
The nearest zombie was on top of her before she could stand up. A farmer, she judged by his torn, decaying clothes. He lunged toward her, his dried, pruny eyeballs pointed in opposite directions, both arms raised to strike. She drove her heel up into his crotch, sending him flying onto his back. That was mildly satisfying.
She tried to do that martial arts move where you spring from your back to your feet in one fluid motion. She had the Strength and Dexterity for it, but lacked the knowledge of exactly how it was done, so she spent a few seconds flopping around like a fish before giving up and standing the conventional way. Meanwhile, the zombie got to its feet like a marionette in the hands of an unskilled puppeteer.
Keeping aware of the other approaching zombies, she judged that she had sufficient time to enjoy the first one properly before she had to start fighting for real.
The zombie she’d kicked in the dick stumbled toward her, snapping its jaws, its bone and muscle tissue showing through holes in its rotting skin.
Katherine cocked her right arm back, then let her fist fly as the zombie came within range. She savored the crunch of bone as she punched through its face, taking its head clean off above the lower jaw. Now that was satisfying.
Catching the collapsing zombie by the wrists, she spun around, making two full rotations before connecting its foot with the head of the next one that got too close. She let go of the body, temporarily putting two more approaching zombies on their rotting asses, then charged into the horde in a whirlwind of fists, elbows, and feet.
She punched through sternums and skulls, cracked pelvic bones with kicks so hard they should have shattered her own bones.
“I am not a piece of luggage!” she shouted into the face of a zombie she held by the throat.
It
opened its mouth wide and reached for her with its dried out tongue.
“That’s fucking disgusting.” She grabbed a second zombie by the throat and smashed their two heads together.
After she uppercutted the head off of the last zombie standing, Katherine stood back and surveyed the carnage. There was no way she was ever riding in a bag again, only to be pulled out at the convenience of others. She was a motherfucking badass.
The bodies were literally piled on top of one another, and she felt like she could go ten more rounds. A few of them had gotten in some lucky punches or bites, but her skin was entirely clear of bruises or scratches.
Her dress, however, was a different story. The thing was done for. Perhaps she’d underestimated just how few zombies had gotten in a lucky bite after all. No matter. Millard had spoiled her during her stay here. She had plenty to wear.
The main entrance to the keep was too secure for her to break through, so she turned into a bat and flew in through her old window. Strange as it was, it reminded her of high school, sneaking back into her room at three in the morning after making out with Tommy Hodges.Ha! What a fucking loser.
Katherine’s room was just as she left it. The open closet showcased a number of dresses which Millard had given her, as well as the druid clothes and leather backpack she had entered this world with. Even her bath was still running. The giant, hollowed-out pumpkin overflowed with water constantly pouring out of a magical silver pitcher.
She settled on a black turtleneck sweater and a pair of pants not entirely unlike blue jeans. She’d had the hardest time explaining the concept of blue jeans to Millard, and he’d had at least as hard a time trying to re-explain it to his tailor. There was a pile of horrendously failed attempts sitting in the corner.
After peeling off the remains of what had once been a dress, but could now be better described as an assortment of torn strips of fabric glued to her body with zombie gore, Katherine ascended the steps next to her pumpkin and dipped her toe in the bath, then immediately jerked it back. The water burned her skin. She remembered a lesson she’d learned on her first day as a vampire. Do not touch running water. She tipped up the pitcher and waited until the water was still, then tested the water again. It wasn’t exactly what she’d call refreshing, but at least it didn’t burn.
