The Adventures of Norman Oklahoma Volume One

by Steeven R. Orr

  There was no rhyme or reason when it came to goblin tunnels. Nothing was planned, nothing mapped out. While a pair of goblins had some control over where a colossal slug went, guiding them wasn’t an exact science. Or at least the goblin race had never cared enough to fine tune their control over a slug, not in my experience anyway.

  It takes two goblins to guide a slug. I don’t know how they do it, I ain’t never been invited to watch them work, but I’ve been told it takes two. The goblins might have a target destination in mind, such as Clem’s basement, and they can eventually get the slug to where they want it to go, but the path the slug takes ain’t usually a straight line.

  Goblins can do a fair amount of tunneling themselves, but they prefer to use a slug when they can.

  I was about a hundred yards in and so far this tunnel did nothing but slope down and to the left. The curve to the left was so gradual that I only noticed when the glow stick I’d dropped at the entrance eventually popped out of sight. I stepped back until I could see it again and dropped another. The glow sticks, as long as I always kept one in sight, would help me find my way back. And they would last for twelve hours, though I didn’t plan on being down here that long.

  To be honest, I don’t like being underground. Makes me feel off. Disconnected. The air always seems too thin. To be more honest, being underground scares me more than a pack of angry biters. It’s not debilitating, obviously, but if I’m gonna die I’d prefer to do it with the open air on my skin.

  But I was here for Clem, so I bit down my fears and moved on down the tunnel. It continued on with the gradual slope downward and the curve to the left. It was like walking along a giant cork screw. The further I went, the deeper I went, I could feel the weight of the world pressing down, and the pressure only increased with each step.

  To make matters worse, there was a smell in the air that I couldn’t quite identify. Stale coffee mixed with burnt toast, maybe some skunk added in, and something sweet. Was it coconut? I tried not to dwell on it.

  Eventually the tunnel leveled out and I came to a fork. Two options. Left or right. I was about to continue with the theme of the journey so far and go left when I heard it. A metallic banging from some ways off that sounded almost familiar, though I had to strain some to hear it.

  It was coming from somewhere far ahead, down one of the two tunnels. I pointed my rifle down one, then the other. I couldn’t tell which tunnel led to the sound. Maybe both tunnels led to the same place. Wouldn’t surprise me. Goblin warrens are the worst.

  The banging continued. I had to make decision.

  A moment ago, before the distant hammering had sounded, my gut had told me to go left. So I went left.

  The tunnel stretched out for about dozen or so yards and then opened up into a small room with low, rounded ceilings. Like the tunnel, the room was all rock and earth held together with worm slime.

  The banging stopped for a moment and I listened.

  There was something else out there in the distance, but it was faint. It was like someone singing off key, but I could make out nothing more than that.

  Then the banging started up again, calling to me, urging me forward. I ignored it. I wasn’t about to rush into anything down here. Instead I took a moment to look around. The room was spherical, like the inside of a big ball, the top half, anyways. You’ll find many such rooms when you travel a slug tunnel. Slugs, just like the rest of us, have to sleep once in a while, even the colossal variety. This room was one of their sleeping chambers, and it was big enough to park a couple of cars.

  See, the slug, when it’s done a good day’s work and is ready to bunk up, carves itself out one of these rooms then curls up into a balls and sleeps. Once it has moved on, a tribe of goblins move in. They fill the bottom of the bowl with rock and dirt to flatten it out, then they start decorating. Usually with cat furs and skeletons. What can I say, goblins really like cats.

  While this room had the bottom filled in, it was undecorated but for a small rock pedestal in the center. It had a cow skull atop it. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

  I stood at the threshold looking in, the light from my headlamp seeing what I saw. Nothing.

  There weren’t even any tracks in the dirt.

  I took a chance and, rifle in the lead, stepped into the room.

  Nothing happened.

  Now that I was in, I could see no less than five tunnels leading out. One of them was right next to the one I’d just exited. Looking into it I could see a faint green glow some ways back. One of my glow sticks. This was the right fork of the tunnel. I shook my head, two tunnels leading to the same spot.

  I moved into the center of the room. The metallic banging continued, and from where I stood I could hear which tunnel it was coming from. To be honest, it all felt like a trap, but the noise was the only lead I had. So, dropping a glow stick outside the tunnel that brought me into the room, and another inside the tunnel that was taking me out, I continued on.

  I didn’t have many of the glow sticks left. Any more twists and turns and I’d soon be out. Luckily the tunnel I followed was long and straight, no other tunnels leading off from it.

  The banging noise drew closer as I loped along and I realized what it sounded like. It was as if someone was hammering on a wire cage, like what you’d see in an animal shelter. I didn’t like what it meant. Not one bit.

  After another five minutes of walking I could see a pinprick of light some ways ahead. I switched off my headlamp and crept on toward the light.

  I stopped every now and then as the light intensified so that my eyes could adjust. As the light grew, so did the noise. Eventually I’d reached the end of the tunnel. I hung back, as far into the darkness as I could, and tried to spy what was in the room beyond.

  The banging stopped. In its place was a yowling, like an animal in distress. This was the off key singing from earlier. I crept forward another step and then someone spoke.

  “Pretty kitty,” it said. The voice was low and wet, like someone talking with food in their mouth. It was ahead of me, from the room beyond the tunnel.

  “Soft fur,” it continued. “Pretty fur. All trapped. Nowhere to go. It okay, kitty. Nice kitty. Lolm try more, get kitty out.”

  The banging started up again. I moved closer, rifle ready.

  The room was the same size as the last, which would make sense as it had probably been carved out by the same slug. There was a fire burning in a pit lined with rocks in the center of the room. At the far end, on the other side of the fire, sat a row of wire cages. Ten wide and four high. The cages I could see were empty. The cages I couldn’t see were blocked from view because something was standing in front of them.

  It was stooped and no taller than me. It wore rags that resembled old bed sheets. Its skin was scaly with random patches of fur. It held a jagged chunk of rock that it used to hammer on the front of one of the cages, probably the lock. By the sound of the yowling I could only assume that the cage held a cat. Possibly one of Clem’s.

  The creature took a breather from banging on the cage. The cat continued to yowl and holler.

  “Lolm will open cage,” the thing said. “No fear. Lolm will free you, pretty kitty.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what the thing was, the light in the room was bad. But whatever it was, maybe its intentions weren’t of the nefarious type. Maybe it was trying to free the cat. Like I’d said earlier, not all monsters are bad. Most of them just want to get through life with as little fuss as possible. Despite the way it looked, regardless of the gloom and the terrifying location, it was entirely feasible that this creature was actually trying to help.

  “Lolm so hungry, pretty kitty.”

  Then again, I’ve been known to be wrong.

  “Lolm will free you and then he can eat you,” it said.

  I stepped into the room, rifle at the ready.

  “Lolm’s gonna put the rock down and step away from the cage,” I said. “Or Norman’s gonna put a bullet right into Lolm’s he
ad.”

  The thing turned to me in alarm, hissing. Its eyes were yellow and round like saucers, its mouth wide like a catfish.

  A troglodyte.

  I squeezed the trigger.

  13

  FOOD FOR A TROGLODYTE

  TROGLODYTES ARE SCAVENGERS, THE hyena of the monster world.

  They don’t go looking for fights, preferring to come in after it’s over and pick off the remains of what lost. But they can look after themselves when necessary. They ain’t no wilting flower that’s to be sure.

  Yet, at the same time, they startle easily and when given the choice, will run rather than fight. Which is why, when I fired, I aimed low and the bullet struck within inches of the thing’s big webbed feet.

  It screamed and ran off through one of the side tunnels, its feet flapping against the slime-hardened floor.

  I levered another round into the chamber and followed it on into the tunnel, sending another shot its way. But again, the purpose was to frighten, not kill. The thing didn’t deserve to die. It wasn’t hurting no one. So I let it run and returned back to the room with the cages.

  Sure enough, in one of the cages, I found a cat. It was fat, like it had been eating well. Which made sense. If a goblin pack had been using these cages to hold cats to eat, they would’ve been fattening them up. We do the same thing with cattle, so I ain’t judging.

  I had no idea if this cat was Mrs. Whiskers, Meowzers, or any of the other foolishly named cats of Clem’s. It could’ve belonged to one of the neighbors. Regardless, it was why I was down here so I needed to get it free.

  The trouble was the big iron lock on the cage’s door. It was like something King Arthur would have used to keep his round table locked up for the night. It was big, it was old, and it looked dern near impenetrable.

  In the movies, or on TV, when faced with a lock and no key, the hero of the tale would often just shoot the thing off. I try to avoid that if I can. It works if you know what you’re doing, and I do, but I didn’t want to come all this way and accidentally shoot the one cat that seems to have survived.

  I stared at the lock for a moment without any ideas. So I switched my headlamp back on and took a look around the room. The fire pit contained the bones of what I figured were the former residents of the empty cages. That was news I wasn’t looking forward to taking back to Clem.

  I bent to get a closer look at the lock. I’ve been known to pick a lock or two in my day, but the few times I’d been successful had come more from luck than skill. I sifted through the contents of my bag, thinking maybe I’d brought along something that might help me out. I’ve collected a number of artifacts over the years, objects of power that have been known to come in handy from time to time. But I had nothing on me that could get me through that lock, not without killing the cat in the process. Which, again, I didn't want to do.

  Then something struck me in the back of the head. My vision blurred and the ground rose up to meet me as everything went black.

  When I could open my eyes again, I was on the floor with something large on top of me.

  The troglodyte.

  “Human not steal food!” It bellowed into my face, coating me in spittle.

  It reared back and I could see a rock in its hand.

  It brought the rock down on my head before I could think to move. Everything went aquatic at that point, like moving underwater.

  “Lolm hungry!” It shouted.

  It reared back once again. I brought my arms up in time to stop the third blow.

  “Pretty kitty is for Lolm!” It hammered at my arms as it had done with the lock. “Not for human!”

  I pushed and managed to roll, taking the thing with me. It fell to the floor but was back on me before I could so much as blink.

  “Lolm stop human! Lolm eat pretty kitty!”

  Once more, it reared back, preparing to bring the rock down on my head. I threw my hands out, clawing at the dirt around me, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. The cat yowled and hissed behind us.

  The monster swung. I managed to move my head enough that the rock only grazed my temple. I barely felt it, I was beyond pain at that point. All I could think about was not dying in some dern goblin tunnel, and certainly not by a troglodyte. I had my pride, after all.

  The troglodyte threw the rock aside and opened its wide, catfish mouth. Then, with a roar, it bit me where my neck and shoulder meet, its yellowed teeth sinking into my flesh.

  I screamed and threw a fist into the side of the monster’s head. It grunted but didn’t let go.

  I hit it again, and again, but I couldn’t dislodge it from my neck.

  I tried going for my guns, but I must have dropped the rifle when I fell, and the creature’s knees kept me from my pistols as it straddled me.

  I searched with my hands along the dirt floor as the thing tore a chunk from my neck. It threw its head back and swallowed.

  A troglodyte had just eaten a piece of me. I’d never before been so offended, disgusted, and afraid all at the same time. I clung to the anger as my life poured from the hole in my neck. I would heal, probably, but I couldn’t let the thing take another bite.

  The problem was that I was losing strength fast. Fortunately the anger over being eaten had pumped a fistful of adrenaline into my system and I was able to rock to the side once more. But this time, the troglodyte managed to stay atop me. However, it had moved just enough that I was able to pull one of the Peacemakers, and, as it went for my neck for the second time, I thumbed back the hammer, jammed the barrel into the side of its head, and squeezed the trigger.

  The gun crashed and the creature rolled to the side, carried by the force of the bullet. It rolled off me and lay still.

  I blacked out, I ain’t gonna lie. I’d had a hunk bit out of me and I needed to heal. When the wound is bad my body tends to shut down so that it can divert all of its energy into the healing process.

  When I woke the cat was purring. Everything had gone dark but for a red glow nearby. The fire had gone out. All that was left were the glowing embers.

  I sat up and felt at my neck. It was tender and raw to the touch. It still bled a little, but most of the hole had closed.

  I checked my head and found that I still wore the lamp, so I switched it on. The light hurt my eyes.

  I pulled myself to my feet. I was a little unsteady, but all in all, considering I’d been gnawed upon, I felt pretty good.

  I scanned the floor around me with the headlamp and soon found both the rifle and the pistol. I replaced the spent shell in the pistol and returned it to its holster. Then I checked my watch. It had been coming up on Eight when I had arrived at Clem’s earlier. The watch said it was now half past Nine. I hadn’t been out that long. But still, Clem was probably freaking out. I needed to wrap this up.

  I went to the cage and had a look at the cat. Around its neck, hanging from a leather collar, hung a metal tag. The tag had the name Biscuit engraved into it.

  I smiled. This was Clem’s cat.

  But how to get the dern thing out of its cage.

  The cat only looked up at me and purred.

  “You and I got one thing in common,” I said to the cat. “We were about to be a troglodyte’s dinner.”

  I laughed which got my head to swimming. My vision clouded and I fell to my knees in the dirt, one of them slamming down onto something solid that tore through my pants.

  I grabbed at the thing, thinking to toss it aside. But I didn’t.

  As with any foreign object that we, as human beings, step on, fall on, or encounter in such a way that it causes us a moment of pain, I took at look at the thing. I wanted to see what it was that hurt me. We all do it, and I’m glad that I did. The thing that I had pulled out of the dirt was a large, iron, key.

  I gave it a try and, sure enough, it fit perfectly in the lock. Clem wasn’t going to be happy about the others, but knowing that I’d be able to bring one of his cats back to him, knowing that he would find comfort in the f
act that one of them survived, brought some comfort to me as well. It almost made up for being chewed on by a dern scavenging troglodyte.

  But as soon as the cage door swung open the cat was out like a shot. The only thing that stopped it from getting too far was my face, which it clung to with a fairly strong set of sharp claws.

  I reacted the way most folks would react to having a furry ball of claws and teeth attack their face. I screamed, back peddled around the room, and tried to swat the dern thing off with my rifle. It eventually let go and took off down one of the tunnels.

  Once I’d caught my breath and wiped my own blood out of my eyes, I thought about letting the dang thing go. But then I thought of Clem and how he was gonna feel knowing that he lost all his cats. I couldn’t do anything about the ones that had been eaten, but could certainly go after the one that still had some juice left in its tank.

  My face itched, an unpleasant feeling that was like a colony of ants crawling all over my skin, but it meant that the healing had begun. Luckily it was only a few scratches otherwise I would have blacked out yet again. But I didn’t, so I pushed the feeling out of my mind and set off after the cat.

  I’ve made many mistakes in my life. A fella who’s lived as long as I have is bound to make their share. But looking back on it now, going after that cat was certainly one of the dumbest.

  I followed the cat for as long as I could. But, as most of you know, cats are fast. Of course, this one was rather fat, so even after it took off ahead of me, I eventually caught up to it sitting there in the tunnel cleaning itself. But then, once I’d gotten close enough to grab it, it was off again. This happened several times and it chose tunnel branches at random.

  I ran out of glow sticks fairly quick as I chased the cat down this tunnel and that. Left fork, right fork, then right, left, two more rights, another left, and then… well, I lost track. After a while I couldn’t even see the cat anymore. It wasn’t long before I hit upon two very important realizations.