The Monster Hunters

by Larry Correia

  The other Hunters were gathered in the cafeteria. I had never seen most of them before. They were an interesting crew. Most of the heavy suits of armor had been ditched as soon as was possible, and the Hunters were trying to get in the small bit of relaxation that they could. A few had not taken theirs off yet, mostly the ones who had been lucky enough not to be splattered with undead juices during the day’s activity. In addition to the infamous horned happy face there were several other team logos present. Some were cartoonish: a fire-breathing warthog, Scud the Disposable Assassin, Samurai Jack, and one that appeared to be a cross between a shark and an octopus. Others logos were more serious: a skull with vampire teeth and a knife through it, a highly stylized dragon, crossed Kalashnikovs, and a version of Munch’s “The Scream.” All of the patches were black and olive drab green.

  Some Hunters were eating, scarfing down whatever calories were available. A large group were clustered around the TV watching the news as more reports trickled in about the worldwide panic caused by the missing five minutes, but the majority of the Hunters were cleaning their guns or sharpening edged weapons. Someone had plugged in a CD player and was playing classic rock.

  “Earl!” a ponytailed man in a Harley Davidson tank top shouted. “Hey, everybody! Harbinger’s here!” The Hunters dropped what they were doing, jumped up and crowded around us, many of them asking questions.

  “Calm down,” Harbinger boomed. “As soon as everybody’s here, we’ll have a full debriefing. Status? Who’re we missing?”

  The biker-looking fellow started to tick off names on his fingers. Apparently he at least knew everybody. “Nobody called in any casualties today. Most of these vamps never knew what hit them. We stacked up piles of the bastards. Boone is here, but his guys volunteered to be perimeter security for now. VanZant, Paxton, and Mayorga’s teams called in and are on the way. Eddings just crawled out of some mine, said he didn’t get the message to pull out before dark. So they should be last ones in.”

  “Didn’t get the message, my butt,” Julie said angrily. “You don’t stay in a vampire hole after dark.”

  “Crazy bastard,” Sam said with admiration.

  “Where’s my . . . the Boss?” Harbinger asked.

  “Called about fifteen minutes ago. Him and the Newbies kicked some serious ass up in Forestdale. They’re coming. The Boss sounded really happy on the phone.”

  “No surprise. He hasn’t got to kill anything in years. Thanks, Phillips.” Harbinger slapped the man on the back. He raised his voice so that all of the assembled Hunters could hear. “You scumbags best not have eaten everything. I’m starved.”

  “Fred’s making up some dinner—he used to be a chef, you know—but right now there’s pudding cups in the fridge,” said one, as he spooned Dorcas’ precious chocolate into his mouth.

  “You poor condemned fool,” muttered Sam under his breath. For that Hunter’s sake, I hoped that Dorcas had had a chance to use up her daily quotient of violence against vampires.

  “Whoa there, chief. We’re dying here,” the man named Phillips interjected. “Rumor has it that you had something to do with that five minutes. What was up with that?”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “It was all over the Feds’ encrypted channels. Something about a demon massacre in Natchy Bottom,” a female Hunter said. I loved the fact that breaking into the government’s secure communications did not cause anyone to bat an eye.

  “Yeah, man, that was some freaky shit,” said a short man. “Whole world is going crazy out there.”

  Most of the others nodded in agreement. In the background the news video was showing huge crowds of demonstrators gathered in front of the White House. The scrolling information across the bottom warned of the condition-red terror warning, and the declaration of martial law across the Southeastern U.S.

  “Well, I’ll address that. But I’m going to wait until everybody’s here. I’m tired and I ain’t telling that story more than once.” He pulled out a cigarette. Three other Hunters whipped out lighters. Every person in the room respected or admired Harbinger far too much to argue. “Somebody scare me up something hot and made out of cow. And that’s an order.” He leaned in, lit the end of the cigarette from one of the proffered lighters and inhaled greedily. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

  I agreed fully with that sentiment. Harbinger’s team dispersed, greeting and conversing with old friends. I dropped my bag of gear on the floor and went to scrounge up something to eat. I was starving, exhausted, sore, aching, and missing a considerable amount of blood from the leeches and thumbnail-sized ticks. However, I was still a gentleman.

  “Julie, can I get you something from the kitchen?”

  “Hang on. I’ll come with you.” She set her equipment next to mine, and hurriedly made her way through the double doors. I followed, stomach rumbling, already salivating at the smell of something being fried. I stumbled zombielike in the direction of precious food. But Julie grabbed my hand, led me off to the side, waved quickly at the few Hunters cooking and scrounging, and pulled me through a small side door into the hallway.

  “What’s up?” I asked, glancing back longingly toward the kitchen. At my size and level of physical activity, I had to eat 4,500 calories a day to keep from getting cranky. She led me quickly up the stairs to the top level. I had not been up here much. I followed stupidly.

  “We died today.”

  “Yeah, I’ve done that a couple of times. It don’t get any easier.”

  She stopped, glanced down the hall to make sure we were alone. Satisfied, she turned and looked me in the eyes. “It really makes you think. Coming that close. Doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose,” I answered, slightly embarrassed.

  “You saved us. I don’t know how you did, but you’re something special. I can’t explain it.”

  “You’re the special one. I’ve known that since I first met you,” I told her sincerely.

  “I had the same reaction. I just couldn’t explain it at the time.”

  “Really?” That took me by surprise.

  “Yes. Really. Look, I know this is sudden, but what you said back there . . . in the swamp . . . right before you . . . you stepped in front of me . . .” I thought of the alien spear that I took for her piercing my heart. “Did you mean that?”

  “I . . . uh . . . well . . .” I stammered, afraid to answer truthfully.

  She responded quickly. “Because if you didn’t, I totally understand. It was a really intense moment . . . and I don’t want to move too fast . . . or anything like that. And there has just been so much going on . . . with my family . . . and . . .” She did not mention the missing Grant, but the look of guilt was obvious on her face. “It’s just happened so fast, and I wasn’t expecting anything like this. There has been something about you, ever since we met. And then when Grant abandoned you on the freighter . . . We fought about that. I couldn’t believe he did that to you. And then he disappeared, and I know how I feel about you, and I should feel guilty because he’s probably dead or worse, and so much has happened, but you’re here, and I just don’t know—”

  I cut her off. “I meant it.” I screwed up all of my courage. Compared to this moment, vampires, werewolves, undead, gargoyles, demons, giant sky squids—they were nothing. I would rather face legions of monsters than have her reject what I was about to say.

  I held both of her hands as gently as a brute like me could manage. Her expression was unreadable. “I love you,” I stated simply.

  She did not respond immediately. I felt a nervous weight form in my stomach, threatening to drag me through the floor. I swallowed involuntarily as all of the moisture left my mouth. Finally she smiled, a little smile at first, and then gradually it spread into a wide grin.

  “Me too.”

  “Really?” The weight lifted. Lightning crashed. The heavens opened and choirs of angels sang.

  “Yes. Now quit squeezing my hands, you’re gonna break them.”

  I
hurriedly let go. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” She leaned in close and we kissed. Her lips were warm and soft. She broke away and nodded her head toward one of the doors off to the side. “That’s the room that I use when I work late and end up sleeping at the compound.” Julie sounded slightly short of breath. “I figure that we have a little while before the other teams get here and anybody notices we’re gone.”

  Dinner could wait.

  I had not thought that anyone had seen us slip quietly back into the cafeteria. I had been as stealthy and nonchalant as was possible. Julie had winked at me one last time and moved off to coordinate with the other teams and take care of business. The room had almost filled with Hunters, and only one team was still missing, but was due at any moment. My gear had been pushed to the side. I picked up my bag, spotted my friends sitting at a table in the back of the room, and made my way over. The cafeteria had taken on an almost party atmosphere as Hunters who had not seen each other in months or years were reunited.

  “Hey, dude. What you been doing?” Trip said, sliding over so I could have room to sit.

  “Uh . . . nothing.”

  “Whatever,” Holly said as she pushed a plate of now lukewarm pasta toward me. “We saved you some food . . . stud.” She winked evilly. “Best eat. Keep your strength up.” Very few things slipped past Holly Newcastle.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled and immediately began to eat. The meal was delicious. “Wow, they sure did use a ton of garlic.”

  “The guy that cooked it, Fred, said that it might help when we fight vampires tomorrow,” Trip explained. “Maybe they won’t want to bite us if we stink like garlic.”

  Holly snorted. “That’s just an old wives’ tale. Vamps aren’t scared of garlic.”

  “Hey, up until yesterday night we thought them turning into fog was just a myth too,” I answered. “So until then, load me up, baby.”

  The final team arrived with a flourish. They were beleaguered and their armor was still splashed with undead fluids. Their logo was Smoking Elvis. Their leader waved to the crowd.

  “Sorry we’re late, but we killed twenty bloodsuckers. Let’s get this party started.” Shouts of “Showoff!” and “About time!” rose from the Hunters. But it was all in good fun.

  “Will somebody hose these guys off? Damn, Eddings, your crew smells like vampire shit!” Sam bellowed.

  “Love you too, Sam,” he shouted back.

  Harbinger cleared his throat. “Get your guys cleaned up, and grab some grub. We need to have a meeting.” At that, the newcomers immediately complied. The rest of the room went back to its heated conversations and raucous laughter. Holly watched them go. After a moment’s hesitation, she sprang to her feet and ran after them, grabbing the team lead by the arm.

  “Excuse me?” she asked as he turned around. I was close enough to hear the exchange over the noise of the room. “Are you the team out of Las Vegas?”

  “At your service.” Eddings bowed slightly. “I don’t think we’ve met, miss?”

  “Newcastle, Holly Newcastle. Yes. Yes, we have met.” She surprised all of us by embracing the filth-coated Hunter, hugging him tight, and holding him there. He looked bewildered. Finally she let go of him. He studied her curiously for a minute.

  “Ahh . . . I remember now. Wow. Good to see you. You look a lot better. You’ve gained a bunch of weight,” he said that as a compliment. “You must have put on thirty pounds.”

  “Thanks,” she answered proudly. I looked at Trip and shrugged. That was not something I was under the impression you could say to Holly, or any woman for that matter, without getting shot.

  “Earl told me he was going to try and recruit you. I’m glad to see you took him up on it. How do you like Monster Hunting?”

  “Honestly, I hated it at first, but I felt like it was something I just had to do. Face my fears, you know . . .”

  “Yeah. I understand that, after what you went through.”

  “Now, though?” Holly laughed. “I love it.”

  “I told Earl you would be perfect . . . Look, I’ve got to clean up before he skins me for being late.”

  She hugged him again. This time I could tell she was crying. I did a double-take at that. I was not aware that Holly was capable of producing tears. He whispered something in her ear, and patted her gently on the back. Eddings finally broke away and hurried after his men. Holly wiped her eyes and returned to our table.

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  “Uh . . . nothing.” She mimicked me perfectly. “Now shut up and eat your spaghetti.” She sighed and watched them leave, gradually returned to her food and ignored the rest of us.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m glad that you’re all here. We have a bit of a situation on our hands.”

  That was an understatement.

  Harbinger paced back and forth at the front of the cafeteria. The conference room was too small to fit the assembled humans and orcs, so the large maps of the South had been brought downstairs and leaned against the wall. Many of the red tacks had been replaced with yellow tacks, but there were many new red ones dotting the map. It looked like Alabama had the measles.

  Every single member of MHI was present. The ones that I knew were a small minority. Julie sat by her grandfather and a young man who must have been her little brother. Boone’s guys had come in from the perimeter and were standing toward the back. Mead had waved happily at me when he had entered. The orcs stood by themselves, slightly separated from the rest of us, packed tightly together, hooded heads kept down, shoulders slumped, not used to being surrounded by so many humans.

  “The team leads were sent a brief synopsis as to where we stood a few days ago. But we have had some new developments. At 2:39 today, time backed up for five minutes. This was felt by every single person on Earth.”

  From the brief snitches of news that I had caught, billions were caught up in hysteria over the event. Some were in a panic, others in a religious fervor, and some were in denial. Thousands of babies had been born twice. Hundreds of people had died of natural causes twice.

  “Yes. Those five minutes were in fact related to this case, and it goes to show how serious this one is. This is it, folks, this is the big one. Our real enemy is one General Joao Silva de Machado. We like to call him the Cursed One. He’s five hundred years old, and in case you’re wondering how you’ll recognize him, he’s the one that’s a blob of black slime wearing conquistador armor. He’s armed with some sort of ancient artifact that will be activated at the zenith of the full moon tomorrow night, giving us”—Harbinger glanced down at his watch—“approximately twenty-two hours. This artifact was the cause of the . . . glitch. And that was just a sample of the freak show to come. When this thing really goes off, it’s the end of the world.”

  “What do you mean by ‘end of the world’?” a Hunter asked.

  “Literally. End of the world as in kiss your ass goodbye.” The crowd murmured. MHI had faced some strange things before, but never anything like this. “The artifact must be used at a specific Place of Power, but we don’t know where that Place is.”

  “Like the Christmas party in ’95?” the man named Eddings asked.

  “Correct,” Harbinger stated. “Speaking of that, the Cursed One has killed Ray Shackleford.” He stopped, counted on his fingers, and then added for clarity, “The fourth.”

  The Hunters erupted in confusion.

  “Settle down. It gets worse. They tracked him down looking for information. They got him because Susan Shackleford, who is now a Master vampire, knew right where to find him.”

  If the news of Ray’s death had upset the Hunters, the idea of his wife being a vampire stunned them into silence. You could have heard a shell casing hit the floor across that cafeteria. I glanced over at the Shacklefords. The Boss was as stoic as ever, arthritic hands steepled in front of his emotionless face. Nathan Shackleford resembled his sister and mother, but had the hulking build of his father. He was a handsome young man, but at th
e moment he looked tired and forlorn. Julie put her arm over her brother’s shoulders as he hung his head down and stared at the linoleum.

  “Yes, people. One of our own is one of the seven. Every trick we know, she knows. She helped make them up. Apparently she ‘persuaded’ Ray to lie to us. Ray told us where to go, and we went there blindly, in order to intercept the Cursed One.” Earl paused to light a cigarette. I noticed his hand was shaking slightly as the flame of his Zippo wavered. He noticed the tremor as well, and snapped the lighter violently shut.

  “Working alongside the Monster Control Bureau agents,”—most of the Hunters and all of the orcs started to grumble—“we went deep into the swamp, right into an ambush. It was the creatures from the Christmas party.” Harbinger waited for the shouts and swearing to die down. Probably half of the people in the room had been survivors of that night. “The ones we fought at the rift were just drones. These were soldiers. My team and all of the Feds were killed, but when the artifact was activated, we started right before the ambush, only the creatures had been sent away.”

  “You can’t die, Earl!” someone shouted. “That’s impossible!”

  “Nothing can kill Earl Harbinger!”

  “Quiet down,” Harbinger ordered. “Y’all know that isn’t true.”

  “But—”

  “Shut up!” the director roared. The Hunters instantly complied. “It’s possible, because it happened today.” He waited a moment before continuing. I did not know what had caused that outburst. Harbinger was a legend amongst the Hunters, but as I had seen back in the swamp, even he had his physical limits. “The artifact was the key. It summoned the creatures. It has power over time and who knows what else. It’s a little stone box about the size of a deck of cards. And you’ll know it when you see it because it holds a world of hurt, and we’re probably going to have to pry it out of the claws of something really bad.

  “On this case we have already lost two good Hunters. Jerry Roberts is dead, and Grant Jefferson is missing—either dead, turned or being held captive to be used as a sacrifice tomorrow night. If he’s still alive, we’re his only hope. So now we’re going to listen to a story. It ain’t over yet, we still have us a secret weapon . . . Owen.”