I fired off two more shots as I fell, hitting it in the back of one of its knees. By the next flash I could see as it took a header into the mud. That made me smile.
There was another burst of light, but this time it wasn’t the lightning. Officer King had pulled the patrol car around and now had it pointed into the yard, its headlights falling over me and the creature in the mud.
The ogre pulled itself to its feet.
“I kill you,” it said in a voice like thunder. “You die now.”
“You first,” I said, and shot it in the face.
The ogre roared in pain. It was one of the most terrifying sounds I’d ever heard. Then it was on top of me.
The thing hit me like an entire offensive line. I slammed into the ground, my breath pulled from my lungs like a rabbit from a hat. I felt a few ribs break and then I was face down in the mud.
A fist the size of a Buick Roadmaster hammered into my side and more ribs snapped like they were made of glass. I screamed and it pushed my face down into the mud, holding it there as I choked.
The creature toyed with me. Letting go of the back of my head long enough to allow me to catch my breath. Then it was back in the mud.
The third time it let me up for air I laughed when I realized that it had stopped raining.
Then there came the sudden roaring blast of a shotgun and the pressure on the back of my head relented as the ogre dropped heavily into the mud next to me, its head nothing more than a ruined mess.
Officer King stood over me, shotgun in hand and a grim look on her face. She caught me looking at her quizzically.
“Door busters,” she said, gesturing to the shotgun with her head.
“Say no more,” I said. “Help me up. I’m afraid the beast broke a few of my ribs.”
“I’ll call an ambulance,” she said, turning toward the car.
“Don’t bother with all that,” I said. “I’ll heal up in good time. Just help me up.”
It was true; I could already feel the familiar itch that meant my accelerated healing had begun.
Officer King — I suppose I could refer to her now as Diana considering that she probably saved my life.
Diana held out a hand, I took it, and she pulled me to my feet. I groaned and winced as I rose. I may heal fast, but pain is still pain. It hurts.
“Door busters, huh?” I said, wiping mud from, well, everywhere.
Door busters are solid slug rounds used by the military and the police to destroy deadbolts or hinges in doors. The round disperses after obliterating said hinge or deadbolt, reducing the risk of ricochet. And Diana just used one on an ogre's head.
“That was a little bit of genius,” I said.
“Thanks,” she said. “You gonna be okay?”
“Eventually,” I said.
“So that’s an ogre,” she said, looking down at the headless body.
“That’s an ogre,” I said.
She waved her hand under her nose, a disgusted look on her face.
“Yeah,” I said. “Fragrant, ain’t they?”
“They are at that.”
I limped over to the frame house and took a seat on the back concrete steps.
“They’re the cause of the stink, pun intended, behind the skunk ape legend,” I said.
“Skunk ape?”
“Yeah, you know,” I said. “Bigfoot. Sasquatch. Some claim that when they’ve seen Bigfoot that the creature was accompanied by an almost unbearable stench. Those folks didn’t see Bigfoot, though. They saw an ogre.”
“So Bigfoot doesn’t exist, then,” she said.
“Oh no, Bigfoot exists. And they smell just fine. They groom themselves quite regularly.”
She looked at me as if trying to decide if I was having fun with her. I wasn’t.
“Why do they stink so much?” She asked.
“Well, that’s up to debate. Scholars who study such things will tell you a bunch of nonsense regarding how an ogre releases the scent to ward off enemies. Frankly I think they just have a serious aversion to bathing. But what do I know.”
I waved my own hand in front of my nose.
“I have to admit though that this thing is a mite ripe,” I said.
Then I noticed the wind. It was still blowing heavily from the west. The ogre carcass lay east of us. I rose, a jolt of paint shooting through my midsection.
Then I heard the roar.
I turned as Diana gasped. There, standing between us and the car, the shapes quite distinct against the backdrop of the headlights, stood not one, but two more ogres.
27
GRUT THE BRAIN
I AIN’T ONE TO give over to cussing. Talking blue just never appealed to me. I’d always considered swearing the product of a lazy mind, one lacking in creativity. But I have to admit that when that second and third ogre showed up, I let loose with a string of curses the likes of which would have made a sailor blush.
Diana, to her credit, never once blinked.
The ogres, for the time being, seemed content to just stand and roar challenges. I think the fact that Diana had taken out their chum all by herself gave them pause. Which was fine with me, I took advantage of the lull to reload each Peacemaker.
“How many of those door buster rounds you got left?” I asked.
“One,” Diana replied.
“One!?”
“I don’t think Officer Singer fully realized what we might encounter this morning when he stocked the car.”
I finished loading the second gun and pulled both, wincing again at the stabbing pain in my torso.
The two ogres continued to stand a few dozen yards away, roaring and posturing like a pair of testosterone-laden book ends.
“I don’t like this,” I said.
“Yeah,” Diana replied, jacking her only remaining door buster round into the shotgun’s chamber. “Tell me about it.”
“No,” I said. “Something seriously messed up is going on here. There is someone, or something, out there with enough influence to coerce both goblins and ogres into working for them, or it, or whatever. Who can do that? Who has that power? And what the Hell do they want with Maggie Keaton? I’m telling ya, I ain’t happy about any of this.”
“Here they come,” she said. And sure enough, the two ogres charged, bellowing war cries as they came right at us.
We opened fire. Me with the Peacemakers, Diana with the shotgun.
Her shot took the ogre to the left in the head. It dropped like a stone and slid for a few feet before coming to a stop.
I emptied both guns into the chest of the other. I fired methodically, like a machine. Right gun, left gun, right. Left, then right, then left, then right. It did nothing more than slow the thing down.
Once out, I holstered both guns and raised my fists.
The ogre, shocked that I would raise fists to it slid to a stop, blinking.
“You fight, little man?” It said, and then laughed. “You fight me with fists?”
“I’ll do what I have to do,” I said.
Then it swung at me. One massive fist followed by an arm as big around as an elephant’s leg.
I ducked under the swing, spun, took hold of the thing’s wrist, then using its own momentum and weight, threw it over my shoulder and into the mud. It was back on its feet almost immediately, raging and spitting.
It charged, one fist out like a battering ram.
I stepped casually to the side, stuck out a foot, grabbed it once more by the wrist, and again using its weight and momentum, tripped it back into the mud where it slid to a halt.
It began to rise when suddenly Diana was there next to it. She slammed the stock of the shotgun into the side of the creature’s thick skull.
The ogre shrugged it off and brushed her aside like a stray lock of hair.
It pulled itself to its feet once more. But instead of charging headlong like an animal, it circled me. That wasn’t good. I was really banking on using its unbridled rage to take it down a peg or two. I had no il
lusions that I could get out of this encounter unscathed, but I hoped that I could at least buy some time for Diana to think of something more productive.
“You good fighter,” the creature said as it circled. “You make surprise for me.”
I didn’t respond. I rotated with the ogre as it circled, determined to keep at least one eye on it.
“You make Grut work for prize,” the ogre said. Apparently its name was Grut. “Working for prize means more to Grut. Makes Grut feel good about work. Grut earn prize.”
“Oh, you’ll earn this prize,” I said. “I’ll make you pay for every inch, you can be sure of that.”
I took advantage of Grut’s hesitation and began to reload the Peacemakers from rounds I kept in loops on the gun belt. I could load my guns blindfolded and hanging from the top of a flagpole by my feet, so I was able to keep an eye on Grut the entire time. Though I did steal a quick glance to see to the health of Diana.
She was no longer where she had fallen. In fact, I couldn’t immediately locate her at all. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I could only hope that she’d run for it. Maybe she’d come back with help, but I wouldn’t blame her if she just kept on running.
With both Peacemakers now fully loaded, I held one in each hand and waited.
“Grut not stupid like other ogre,” the thing said.
“I can see that,” I replied. “It’s obvious to me that Grut is one of the great ogre thinkers. Maybe, in light of this new information, Grut may want to handle our little dispute by participating in a contest of wills wherein our two combatants, that would be you and I, battle using only our respective intellect rather than engaging in barbarous fisticuffs?”
Grut stopped circling as he processed what I’d said. Occupied as he was with this intellectual puzzle, he hadn’t noticed that the headlights from the patrol car that had been shinning into the yard had changed.
I, on the other hand, had noticed the change. The lights had grown brighter, closer even. And so I dove to one side as the patrol car, driven by Diana, plowed into the beast from behind.
The ogre was thrown a few dozen feet. It recovered at once, however, and was soon back its feet, shrugging off being hit by a car as if it was nothing.
Diana gunned the engine but the tires only spun in the mud. Grut roared and moved slowly toward the patrol car. Diana, her foot pressed firmly on the gas, bounced up and down in the driver’s seat, hoping to rock the car into some traction. But the tires only continued to spin.
Grut reached the car, raised both fists over his head, and then brought them down together on the hood, roaring in frustration. The hood caved in, the sides flaring out. Diana’s foot remained on the gas.
I pulled myself to my feet with more of the wincing and the groaning. The ribs were having a hard time healing, what with all of the fighting, jumping, and falling in the mud. I ran for the back of the car, slamming into it with all of my strength. I can admit now that I screamed in pain. Tears may have even fallen from my face. But it had worked. The tires hit a layer of dry earth and the car shot forward, slamming into the ogre. I watched as Grut went for a ride, hanging off the front of the hood, his torso dangling in front of the radiator grill and push bumper.
Diana didn’t stop this time, driving through the yard and then crashing through the privacy fence that separated the yard from the Happy Hamburger. The ride ended when the car slammed into the drive-in’s concrete exterior with the ogre trapped between.
By the time I’d arrived, Diana was out and standing by the hood where Grut was, amazingly, still alive, though fading fast.
The ogre was pinned tight to the wall of the Happy Hamburger. Blood trickled from one corner of its mouth and its eyes had begun to cloud over as it coughed.
“Okoma,” it said in a voice weak with pain.
It took me a moment but I suddenly realized that the thing had just said my name. Or at least it had tried to.
“You know me?” I asked.
“Yes,” it coughed. “Master said you would come. Master was right.”
“And who is Master?” I said. “I’d really like to drop in and say hi or something.”
“Master is,” it coughed blood onto the hood of the car. “Master is secret. Grut not tell.”
Grut laughed and then its eyes rolled into the back of its head and it died there between the car and the Happy Hamburger.
28
JENNER TAKES THE CAKE
ABNER LEMONZEO BEGAN HIS day with a hundred push-ups and a hundred sit-ups. It was a habit he’d gotten into while incarcerated. Actually, it was the one good thing he’d taken from the whole experience. Thanks to prison he was in the best shape of his life.
Following the exercises he hit the shower, and remained there until the water went cold. The freedom of being alone in the shower was something he’d never take for granted again. Not anymore. Back in prison a shower was something you did quickly. You got in and you got out. You also had to focus more on who was around you then getting clean. It was a nerve wracking affair.
Once well and fully soaked, Lemonzeo would, weather permitting, air dry on the veranda. Living out in the country as he did, he didn’t need to worry about neighbors being offended by the lack of clothing.
As he sat and let the air do its thing, he sipped on hot coffee and smoked a thin cigar. Normally, under such circumstances, Lemonzeo would be feeling good. Pretty darn great, to tell the truth. But not this morning. This morning Lemonzeo was more than a little anxious.
He had made what he thought was a necessary, yet risky decision yesterday morning. He’d agreed to help to kill Norman Oklahoma for a group of vampires in return for a substantial cash donation toward his various enterprises. Which, he could admit to himself, were not all completely legal. He’d figured it was easy enough promise. After all, he’d already sent a man to kill Oklahoma.
Not a man, exactly.
So he made the deal, thinking that Oklahoma was already dead. He’d have made it anyway; the deal was going to help him get back on top. To get back all that he’d lost when he’d been locked away.
And really, it had all seemed so simple. Kill Norman Oklahoma. One man. What could be so hard about that?
But then something had gone wrong. Norman Oklahoma had survived. Lemonzeo had hired one of the best, the Walrus, yet Oklahoma lived. Not only that, he had come to visit with Lemonzeo and got into it with the very vampires Lemonzeo had gotten into bed with.
The two vampires, Thomas and Alexander, were anything but happy when they’d left the Pub yesterday morning. Not that he blamed them, but in reality, it wasn’t his fault. He’d bought the best. But the best, it turned out, hadn’t been good enough.
Thankfully Thomas and Alexander didn’t make the decisions. They had a boss just like anyone else.
Bertram Brone.
That’s who worried Lemonzeo.
Would Brone continue to fund him after this? The purpose behind killing Oklahoma had been to keep him from discovering that vampires had taken root into Eudora. And now, well, that cat had been pulled from the bag kicking and screaming. He had another meeting with Thomas and Alexander later this morning to discuss, he supposed, that very thing.
Sufficiently dry he adjourned to the bedroom to dress—shorts, t-shirt, no shoes. Soon he was in the kitchen scrambling eggs. A little salt, pepper, a few pats of butter. The key was to whisk it all with the eggs until they were blended smooth. Lemonzeo had always felt that his scrambled eggs were the best around.
As he was plating the eggs and toasting the bread, his assistant, Jenner, entered the kitchen. Jenner carried with him one of those electronic tablets that Lemonzeo could never figure out the use of. What was wrong with a little black book and a pencil?
“Good morning, sir,” Jenner said, swiping and tapping at the screen.
“Have a seat, Jenner and I’ll plate you up some eggs.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jenner said. “I would be happy to share your table with you, but I’m afraid I�
�ve already eaten.”
“Well then,” Lemonzeo said, sitting with his own plate. “That just means more for me.”
It had been the same every morning since Lemonzeo had been released from prison.
“Tell me what’s going on in the world, Jenner,” he said as the two men sat together at his kitchen table.
“The Brotherhood of Minos is still poking around,” Jenner said.
“Still? Talk about your inflated sense of self. What are they doing?”
“Looking for converts, I believe. More men to join their cow cult or whatever it is they worship.”
“The Bull God,” Lemonzeo said.
“Of course,” Jenner said, swiping at the screen of his tablet.
“The Walrus has been taken to a facility in Denver,” Jenner said, reading from the tablet.
“I regret using him,” Lemonzeo said. “But his references were impeccable.”
“I have to admit that I continue to find this Norman Oklahoma quite curious,” Jenner said. “The Walrus is a formidable opponent. For Mr. Oklahoma to have walked away unscathed, and twice no less… Curious.”
“The man does have an annoying habit of surviving,” Lemonzeo said. “What else do you have for me?”
“Well,” Jenner swiped at the screen a few times. “Speaking of Norman Oklahoma. A girl, Maggie Keaton, was abducted last night. The Police, along with Mr. Oklahoma, are looking into it.”
“Another girl taken?”
“Yes,” Jenner said. “But this doesn’t seem to be connected to the other abductions. They were all children. Maggie Keaton is a grown woman.”
“Do we know who took her?” Lemonzeo said. “I don’t like kidnappings. I especially don’t like them happening in my town without my knowledge.”
“I’ll continue to make inquiries,” Jenner swiped the screen again. “Your meeting with the vampires is in an hour.”
“Yes, yes,” Lemonzeo said. “Not a meeting I am looking forward to. They didn’t leave happy yesterday.”
“After the way Mr. Oklahoma treated the two, I don’t blame them.”
Lemonzeo smiled. “He sure took them down a peg or two, didn’t he?” Then he laughed.
The Adventures of Norman Oklahoma Volume One Page 15
