Critical Failures IV

by Robert Bevan

  “We’d better get on our way,” said Cooper. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

  Tim stoppered the decanter. “That’s true. And I certainly don’t want to be around here once all of this piss has been festering in the sun for a while. You gentlemen take care.”

  Cooper picked up his bag and let go of the chains, not taking his eyes off the two men in the wagon. But the fight had been pissed out of them. Captain Reynolds continued sobbing while his subordinate, who had been spared most of the urine assault, merely shook his head in frustration.

  They hadn’t made it twenty feet down the road when Tim heard what he was waiting for.

  “Wait!”

  Tim stopped walking and smiled to himself, but he didn’t turn around.

  “We saw your friends.”

  That was worth turning around for. “Where? Which way were they going?”

  “We met them at the crossroads south of here,” said Captain Reynolds. “They seemed unsure of their destination. They asked where the different roads led.”

  “And what did you tell them?”

  “I’ll tell you after you’ve washed the piss off of us.”

  Tim found it interesting that the captain’s demands had been lowered from releasing them to just giving them a wash. He’d done the math and come to realize that was the best deal he was going to get. There’s no way Tim and Cooper would unchain two armored soldiers they’d just drenched in piss. He was on the ropes.

  Tim turned back around and started walking again.

  “Gods have mercy!” shouted Captain Reynolds. “Fine! Porttown is to the south. Elven villages to the west, and Lighthouse Rock to the east. Please show some decency!”

  Tim nodded to Cooper, who pulled out the Decanter of Endless Water.

  Captain Reynolds put out his hands eagerly in a way that made Tim suspicious. His intentions became clear as Cooper started strolling right up to him.

  “Cooper! Stop!”

  “Huh?” Cooper turned around about ten feet away from the rear of the wagon.

  Captain Reynolds looked panicky. “We had a deal, halfling!”

  “Shut up,” said Tim. He looked at Cooper. “You big idiot. He was about to jump you and hold you hostage for the keys.”

  “I was not!”insisted Captain Reynolds.

  Cooper frowned thoughtfully. “So... We’re not going to rinse them off?”

  “Use the geyser setting, fucktard.”

  Cooper glared down at Tim, then aimed the mouth of the decanter at Captain Reynolds. “Geyser.”

  Captain Reynolds, who had been standing with his knees bent, still ready to pounce, was knocked off his feet by the torrent of water that smashed into his breastplate. Cooper spent a full three minutes showering the two men and the entire interior of the wagon, until all of the piss had been either washed away or diluted.

  It may not have been their preferred outcome, but the captain and his subordinate eagerly took what they could get, positioning themselves to allow the water to flow into their armor and through their hair.

  As soon as Cooper deactivated the decanter, Captain Reynolds started running his mouth again.

  “You sniveling cowards! I’ll have your heads, and the heads of all your friends. I won’t stop until –”

  “Geyser,” said Cooper. Captain Reynolds got blasted in the face with a quick burst of water, and fell back down on his ass.

  “Are we done here?” asked Tim. “Good.”

  Tim and Cooper continued their journey southward in silence for a while. It was an uncomfortable silence because Tim was unsure of Cooper’s mood. Time to test the waters.

  “So is that the sort of story we brag about later, or the sort we vow never to speak of again and pretend never happened?”

  “It’s the sort you can shove up your ass,” Cooper said without even looking down at him.

  Fuck.

  “Is something the matter?”

  “I’m tired of you calling me a fucktard.”

  “Oh come on, man. Don’t be such a crybaby. I was just busting your balls. We’ve been calling each other a fucktard since the third grade. That’s what we do.”

  “It didn’t feel like you were just busting my balls.”

  “You were about to get us both killed!”

  “So there it is. You weren’t just busting my balls.”

  Tim let out an extra-exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this, from you of all people. The king of insults is angered because I called him a mean name. As if I don’t have enough shit to deal with right now.”

  Cooper snorted. “And once again it all comes back to your problems.”

  “What the fuck, man?” cried Tim. “Did we get fucking married last night? When did you turn into a nagging wife?”

  Cooper stopped walking. “Hey, I just thought of something.”

  Tim looked up at him. “What is it?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Tim kept his mouth shut for a few minutes, even more uncomfortable in the silence. Cooper was pissed. Maybe he just needed some time or space or some bullshit. Tim could give him that, after they had taken care of a more practical matter.

  “We should look at the others’ character sheets. There might be some kind of clue as to where they’ve gone.”

  Cooper snarled, stopped walking, and dumped the contents of his bag onto the ground. They each picked up a scroll tube and opened it.

  “I’ve got Katherine,” said Tim. “Her stats look okay. She’s still got the Bag of Holding. And a bunch of dead rats and a dead owlbear. I guess she’s eating well.”

  “I’ve got Julian,” said Cooper. “Full Hit Points. He’s out of first level spells, but he’s got some souvenir cups.”

  “Souvenir cups? From where?”

  Cooper shrugged. “Doesn’t say. It just says ‘Souvenir cups’ with a number two after it.” He handed the paper to Tim and opened another tube.

  Tim looked at Julian’s inventory. There they were. Two souvenir cups. “That doesn’t sound very urgent. If he’s shopping for souvenirs, he must have gotten Ravenus back.”

  “Dave bought a set of fishing lures.”

  “Seriously?” said Tim. “How are his Hit Points?”

  “He’s full.”

  Tim and Cooper looked through the rest of the tubes, finding everyone to be at fourth level, as they’d suspected, and in full health.

  Closing the scroll on his own tube, Tim smiled. “Looks like everybody is in ship shape.”

  Cooper grunted.

  “Jesus Christ, dude. When are you going to let this go. I’m sorry, okay? We’re best friends. Let’s do a bro hug and put all this PMS shit behind us.”

  “I don’t feel like best friends.”

  That stung more than it should have. “How can you say that? We just peed on a man together? What stronger bond can two men have?”

  Cooper looked at Tim. “So what do you suggest we do?”

  “Let’s go back to town. Maybe pop into a pub for a celebratory drink.”

  Cooper threw all of the scroll tubes angrily into his bag and stood up. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  “Seriously, dude. What happened to you while I was out? Did you find Jesus and give up drinking?”

  “Our friends could be in danger.”

  Tim laughed. “Danger? Our friends are sitting on some beach, fishing and drinking piñacoladas in their goddamn souvenir cups. ”

  Cooper didn’t share Tim’s mirth. “You don’t know that. They went after Mordred. He could have them locked in a dungeon somewhere, and all you can think of is crawling back into a fucking bottle.”

  “I can’t believe you’re giving me this lecture. You are the most degenerate, irresponsible drunk I’ve ever met.”

  Cooper folded his arms. “I don’t abandon my friends.”

  Tim had had enough of this guilt trip bullshit. It was time to draw a line in the sand. “Fuck all this. You go and aimlessly wander the coastline al
l you want. I’m going back into town. By the time you finally pull your thick head out of your fat ass, your friends and I will be waiting for you back at the Whore’s Head.”

  “Fine!” said Cooper. “And fuck you!” He turned around and started stomping away.

  That wasn’t the reaction Tim was hoping for. Served him right for trying to use reason with someone of such low Intelligence. The big idiot was on a wild goose chase. When the others finished their little impromptu vacation, they’d come back, and he’d still be searching for them under rocks or something. But fuck him. He could learn this lesson the hard way.

  Still, Tim felt like he should say something.

  “Fuck you too!” he called out to Cooper’s back, then started the hopefully-not-too-long walk back to Cardinia.

  “Hey asshole!” Cooper shouted a few seconds later. “Don’t forget your character sheet!”

  That was actually a good point. Tim turned around and got hit in the forehead by a hard steel scroll tube.

  Cooper chuckled while Tim rubbed the floating lights out of his vision.

  “Motherfucker!” Tim shouted. “That hurt, you know!”

  Cooper just gave him the finger as he continued to walk away.

  When the pain subsided, Tim packed away his scroll tube and started walking back to the city. When he came to the bend in the road where the overturned wagon had been, he cut through the woods. He was in no mood to hear anymore of Captain Reynolds’s shit.

  To make sure he didn’t accidentally get lost, he stayed close enough to the edge of the forest so that he could see the road, but deep enough in so that he was confident he wouldn’t be seen.

  Among the trees, Tim felt much more aware of the potential danger he was in. He pulled out his dagger, but that did little to put him at ease.

  He stopped briefly to check out the overturned wagon. It was still there, the horses still tethered to the front. If any monsters chased him right now, he could make a run for it and hope his pursuer chose to eat the horses instead. He scanned the trees behind him. No monsters. Ah well, it was still a good plan.

  Now that he’d passed the wagon, Tim walked closer to the road, and finally left the woods entirely. Strangely, he didn’t feel any less scared. There wasn’t anything containing the monsters and bandits to the forest. Something could jump out of the trees any moment, and he’d be fucked.

  He walked for half an hour, jumping at the sight of every bird flying out of a tree in his periphery and the sound of every cricket chirp. When he saw an approaching horse-drawn cart, he allowed himself to relax a little. He could at least pretend he was relatively safe for the next couple of minutes.

  The driver was a heavyset human with a shaggy beard a dwarf might admire. In the seat next to him sat a heavy crossbow, no doubt to discourage those who might seek to relieve him of his wares. Wooden crates were stacked and secured with ropes in the back of the cart. When it got close enough, Tim could read the words BUCKLEY’S SUMMER ALE printed on the sides of the crates. A summer ale sounded like the perfect way to ease the rest of his journey. He didn’t have any money to offer, but it never hurt to ask.

  Tim smiled up at the driver as he drew closer. “Spare a summer ale for a weary traveler?”

  The driver spat in Tim’s direction. “Spare this, runt.” He threw a fast-food soda cup, which Tim was able to swat out of the air before it hit him in the face.

  Tim kicked some dirt at the wagon as it passed. “Screw you, man! Why does everyone in this stupid world have to be such an –”

  Where the fuck did he get a fast-food soda cup?

  Tim got on his hands and knees and inspected the cup closely. This was no fantasy world cup. It even had a plastic lid and straw. He ran his finger along the side. It was waxy. Rolling the cup over with that same finger, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw what was printed on the other side.

  Arby’s

  Tim picked up the cup and pulled the lid off. There was still a bit of watery brown liquid at the bottom. He poured it onto the tip of his tongue, then spat.

  “Blegh. Fucking Pepsi.”

  Why was there an Arby’s cup here? Would Mordred have put an Arby’s in his fantasy world? No. He might be a fat stupid asshole, but he took the game far too seriously to throw a modern fast-food restaurant into his beloved creation. But what else could it be? Who else could have...

  Tim looked up toward the city. “Goosewaddle.”

  Chapter 25

  Katherine floated in total darkness, surrounded by dead rats, globs of coagulated blood, and some horrible, armless, brainless bird-bear hybrid monster. She was starving. The dead creatures’ blood had gone stale, providing her no nourishment. So much for that plan.

  What the hell was she doing? She’d vowed to herself to never get in this bag again. And yet here she was. She was probably going to die in here. Who sees a nasty old blood-smeared bag on the side of the road and says “Hey, I think I’ll pick that up.” Nobody.

  She had no idea if it was day or night outside. How long would it take for her to starve to death? Days? Weeks? What a shitty way to go. She should have just let the sun fry her.

  And then an even worse thought occurred to her. What if she didn’t die? What if she lived forever, eternally starving in this void. Panicking, she rummaged through her bag, looking for something she might be able to kill herself with. There was nothing.

  The hunger was bad, but the loneliness and boredom were worse.

  A rat floated by close enough to grab, so Katherine grabbed it. She threw it as hard as she could. It collided with another rat and stopped, the second rat zooming off like a struck pool ball.

  If she had pool balls, she could set up a cool game of zero gravity 3D pool. That would be kind of awesome. She’d have to build, like, a bunch of green felt blocks, some with pockets and some without, in different locations and... Holy shit, she was losing her mind. If she had a pool cue, she could stake herself in the heart with it.

  “Come on, Katherine,” she said to herself. “There’s a way out of here. You’ve just got to think. You’re a smart girl. When you put your mind to it, there’s no obstacle you can’t – What the fucking fuck!”

  Someone grabbed her wrist. The next thing she knew, she was in some kind of dark dungeon, standing face to face with a black-skinned, white-haired elf, who was still clutching her wrist.

  After a brief wide-eyed, confused exchange of gawking at each other, the elf glanced down at the wooden table next to him. On top of the table lay a dagger with a long, slender black blade.

  A second passed. With his free hand, the elf grabbed for the dagger, and Katherine bit his throat out. Elf blood, as it turned out, was exquisite. It was thinner and sweeter than rat or rabbit. She sucked down gulp after gulp after gulp until she started to feel bloated.

  Once Katherine had a good belch and wiped her mouth off on the elf's clothes, she started thinking about her next move. She was in a small room. The only exit was a wooden door. It looked old, but sturdy.

  This guy had probably discovered the bag on the side of the road, detected that it had magical powers, brought it home, and was hiding out in here so he could keep all the loot inside for himself.

  The elf stared at her, its mouth and dead eyes both open wide, as if it was shocked at the assumptions she was making.

  “What?” said Katherine. “It’s not because you’re black. This was no hate crime. You were clearly reaching for a weapon with which to stab me. I was acting in self-defense.”

  The elf continued to stare at her.

  “I have black friends.” She thought for a moment. “Well, a black friend... on Facebook. To be honest with you, I don’t even know who she is. She posts all the fucking time though. Always about Jesus. I want to unfriend her, but I don’t. Because I’m not a fucking racist.”

  Katherine sighed. It was damage control time. At least she didn’t have to do it with her bare hands this time. She grabbed a fistful of his hair with one hand, and the dagger in
the other.

  “For the record, I’d do this if you were white too.” She drove the dagger into the elf’s skull, then worked it back and forth, up and down, and in a circular motion to give the brain a good scramble. After she’d wiped the blood and brains off on his sleeve, she brought the Bag of Holding down over his head. Then she chucked the dagger in as well.

  With her ear to the door, Katherine listened closely for any outside activity, but didn’t hear anything. Judging by the dankness of the air, the lack of windows and the generous splotches of black mildew all over the dull, rusty orange brick walls, she guessed that she was underground.Opening the door probably wouldn’t fry her with sunlight. Still, she stood to the side as she pushed the door ajar.

  No light outside either. Not even torches. That was fine for Katherine. As a vampire, she could see in the dark. But this elf guy must have really been going out of his way to secretly check out his newfound Bag of Holding.

  This stupid bag may be more trouble than it’s worth. She needed a place to hide it. If she turned into a bat or a wolf, she could just absorb it. But she needed to talk to someone to figure out what time of day it was outside.

  “What if...”

  She set the bag on the ground and took a couple of steps back from it. The room she was in was pretty small, so she opted for her normal-sized wolf form rather than the huge version. She picked up the bag with her mouth, careful not to tear or puncture it, then changed back into a half-elf.

  The bag was gone. It was part of her. That was weird. Did that mean that all of those dead bodies were floating around inside her?Ew. But just think of the practical implications. If she ever got back home, she could make a killing as a heroin mule. Or maybe something less horrible. She’d think more about that later. Right now, she had to find out where she was, and if it was safe to leave.

  Katherine opened the door wider and stepped out to find a hallway of rough grey brick, which did a much better job of hiding the mildew. The room she had come out of was at the end of the hallway, so she walked in the only direction there was to go.

  She soon came upon a T intersection with a door on the right. She could go straight, turn left, or see what was behind the door. Listening at the door, she could tell there were definitely people in there. That was good enough for her. She pulled the door open.