Baen Books Free Stories 2017

by Baen Books

“You were reading the newspaper.”

  Gin started the Suburu. “I would have noticed her. She rocked.”

  “Did you see the Payday?”

  “The what?” Gin braked hard. She studied her rear view mirror as if he’d been pointing out something in the parking lot behind them.

  “The candy bar. In the store. The Payday.”

  Gin smacked him. “I thought Payday was some kind of weird car or something that I was going to run into.” She continued to back out of the parking space. “Yes, I saw that you bought a candy bar.”

  “It’s not in the bag.”

  “I thought you took it. Did that bitch cashier swipe it?”

  Dugan stared at Gin as the world remade itself. There was no denying the damage done to his school via a bear. All the teachers and administrative staff confirmed it. Gin saw the angel. Gin and Jenny both saw the candy bar. The angel had taken his candy bar. Both the bear and the angel were real.

  Maybe.

  Dugan got up at sunrise the next morning and went out into the woods. He took his old muzzleloader and his camera but what he really hunting for was answers. He couldn’t talk to Gin; it was as if the angel’s wings had rendered the woman invisible to everyone else. Gin had only seen the angel after her gleaming feathers had vanished. The fact remained that there had been a very real woman at IGA who wanted to find an unnaturally large bear. More alarming was the fact that a bear—possibly his bear—had torn through his school’s offices. For the first time in Dugan’s life, there was evidence that what he saw might be real. It was the very lack of evidence that had made him start to question his sanity. He didn’t know what to think now that there was proof.

  Mist wreathed the mountains as he scrambled up and down the steep hollows, looking for the bear. The forest was still and quiet except for the occasional crow and chipmunk calling warnings of his passing. He found the bear not far from the creek bottom where he had first spotted it.

  The size of it still took his breath away. It lifted its big square head to gaze at him with dark eyes.

  “Did you trash my school?” he asked it.

  Dugan had braced himself for “No” and the need to decide if the answer was truthful or not. He wasn’t prepared for “Hm? Yes. What cookies did you bring?”

  “Pecan tassies.” He pried the lid off the tin. “Why?”

  “Because I’m smarter than the average bear.” The bear stuck his muzzle into the tin and inhaled the tassies. “Oh these are wonderful.”

  “W-w-what?”

  “The only way I could find out what your Dr. Creepy was doing was break in and read the notes he was keeping in your file. If I made a beeline to his office, I might as well spray-paint the walls with ‘weird shit happened here.’ I brought a few donut boxes and candy wrappers in, scattered them on top of the chaos, and everyone buys that some random black bear trashed the place for food.”

  “You brought the donut boxes with you?”

  “I had to go all the way Charlottesville for them. Duck Donuts. Great place, weird name.”

  “You went to Virginia to get donuts so you could cover up breaking into my school?”

  “I told you: smarter than the average bear.”

  “The average bear does not buy donuts! You are not a real bear!”

  “Obviously this depends on your definition of ‘real.’ I am a bear. I am really here, sitting in front of you, talking with you. Occasionally I drive over to Virginia to touch base with civilization.”

  “Drive? You drive?”

  “It’s a hundred and eighty miles, one way. I’m not walking that.”

  “You went a nearly four hundred miles for donuts?”

  “No. That would be stupid. I had business in Charlottesville.”

  “Business?”

  “I had to meet with my lawyer.”

  “Is he a bear too?”

  “No, he’s a wolf. They make very good lawyers.”

  Dugan pressed his hands to his face, chasing around and around all that he knew was real and everything that he suspected wasn’t. It didn’t make any sense. Bears didn’t drive. Wolves couldn’t be lawyers. The bacon maple donuts could have come from anywhere. The evidence in the form of torn boxes could have been from a school employee being selfish.

  A bear had trashed the offices. That was undeniable.

  “I don’t understand. Why did you want to know what Dr. Creagh’s notes said? I told you that he scared me. I didn’t tell him anything about you or anything else weird. Did you have to pee on everything?”

  “I went to see if this man that you’re afraid of was actually a man.”

  A shiver went all the way down Dugan’s spine. “Is he?”

  “No. He’s some kind of monster pretending to be human. To most people, he’s as normal as they are. You can see the flaws in his disguise. You can tell that he’s a monster. Everyone’s been telling you that you that you’re crazy and that he’s a doctor, so you’ve been ignoring all the evidence that ran counter to that. Unconsciously, though, he’s been scaring the crap out of you.”

  “What did the notes say?” Dugan cried. “You didn’t see him, so this—this guess of yours is all based on the notes. Right? What did you find out? He would sit and ask me questions and write down something. Stuff. I could never see what he was actually writing. What did his notes say about me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Wh—wh—what?”

  “He was drawing runes that would keep you from realizing he was a monster. Without magic to bolster his disguise, he wouldn’t be able to face you directly or interact with you any length of time.”

  Dugan’s head started to hurt. “But how do you know he’s a monster?”

  “He smells like a monster. I am a bear, after all. We have the best sense of smell of all terrestrial mammals. Black bears are said to be able to smell a carcass upwind from a distance of twenty miles away.”

  “You. Are. Not. A. Real. Bear.”

  “I told you. It depends on your definition of ‘real.’ In terms of my sense of smell, yes, I am very much a real bear. Besides, it’s been my experience that first thing any real doctor does is hang up all the paperwork that shows he’s a real doctor. I noticed that your Dr. Creepy’s credentials all had Dr. Metzer’s name on them.”

  Dugan had looked at Dr. Metzer’s diplomas. He’d felt comfortable enough with the man to study the office. With Dr. Creepy, he felt like he had to keep his eyes on the man at all time. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “The question becomes: why didn’t Dr. Metzer take his credentials with him. I suspect the answer is: a monster killed him.”

  Dugan hated to admit that there been something off about Dr. Metzer’s leaving. He was an idealistic young man, determined to make a difference in the isolated mountain community. The man had been proud of his framed credentials; he’d explained how the choice of his college reflected well on him. He’d thought that it be would be a good thing if Dugan applied to his alma mater of Boston University. “Okay. You’re a bear and Dr. Creagh is a monster. Shit. I have a session with him tomorrow.”

  “Don’t go,” the bear said.

  “I have to!”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I have to. If I don’t go, the county will start involuntary commitment on me because my mother and her mother killed themselves. It’s the real reason I’m in therapy. Everyone is worried that I might hurt myself. The school district has set it up that if I don’t go to these sessions, they’ll have me committed so they can’t be held responsible. Not even Principal Adkins can stop them if I skip the sessions.”

  “Oh, bother.” The bear gave the tin one last sniff. “I’ll have to do something before then. Why aren’t you in school now?”

  “It’s an in-service day.”

  “So the teachers are all at school?” The bear stood up and shook himself.

  “What—what-what are you planning?”

  “I’m just going to have a little talk with Dr. Creepy.�
�

  “No, no, that would be bad.”

  “Trust me, I want to catch him alone.”

  “He won’t be alone! That’s the whole point! There will be other teachers there.”

  “Teachers-schmeachers. They’re not the ones to worry about. You just stay here and practice your picture taking.”

  Dugan caught hold of the bear’s fur. It was like trying to stop a truck. “You didn’t look at my photos! I got some good ones! I even got one of an angel!”

  “An angel?” The bear stopped.

  “Yes! She was killing bugs in the supermarket.” Dugan was afraid to let go. “No one else could see her but I got a picture of her.”

  “Let me see this angel.” The bear sat down again. He held up both massive front paws and made the “gimme” motion.

  Dugan pulled out his camera. “See. Her wings are all cloudy in the photo but I could see each and every feather. She said she was looking for a bear. An unnaturally large bear.”

  The bear grunted. “A Virtue. Bother. I was hoping not to pull the attention of the Grigori. It’s always like playing Russian Roulette with them, especially the young ones. It depends on what definition of monster they’re using. At least it’s not a Power. They like to nuke things from orbit. Let God sort them out. That’s the problem with religious zealots.”

  “She’s dangerous then?”

  “Heavily armed religious zealots tend to be dangerous.”

  “She has rifles!”

  “Yes, she does, but those daggers are the deadliest weapons she has. They’re magical. They can kill just about anything.”

  “I made a mistake. I told her about the bear at the school. She’s probably there now.”

  “Good.”

  “What? No. That’s bad.”

  “No, it’s good.” The bear stood up again. “If she takes out Dr. Creepy before I get there, then I won’t have to deal with either one of them.”

  “It’s over twenty miles to my school. It will take you all day.”

  “I’ll drive.”

  The bear owned a Smart car.

  It was tiny, shiny and blue. Decals of a snarling grizzly bear were plastered on its doors, hatchback, and headrests. It sat abandoned in a pull off on an ancient dirt logging road, a mile from anything vaguely like civilization. If it wasn’t for the decals, Dugan would have thought that a desperate tourist had stopped someplace secluded to pee and would be back any moment. Any doubts of ownership were erased when Dugan opened the door and a Duck Donut box fell out at his feet. The lingering scent of bacon, maple and fried dough followed.

  The keys dangled in the ignition on a Chicago Bears keyring.

  “Chicago Bears?” Dugan asked. “Aren’t you going a little overboard on the whole bear motif?”

  “What? I’m from Chicago.”

  “What’s Jay Cutler’s number?” His grandpa had watched the Chicago Bears play on Sunday. In their tiny cabin, it was impossible for Dugan to ignore the game as he baked cookies at the range. The commentators talked at length about the quarterback and his injuries.

  “Pft,” the bear made a sound of contempt. “Six. Ask me something hard.”

  “Where was he born?”

  “Santa Claus, Indiana.” The bear cocked his head. “How do you know? You don’t strike me as a Bears fan.”

  “I didn’t actually know where he was born.” It had been a test of his insanity; an imaginary bear should only know what he knew. Dugan wasn’t sure what he just proved; the answer sounded fake. “Santa Claus, Indiana? Are you making that up?”

  “No. If you’re coming with me, get in.”

  Dugan eyed the tiny car. “You actually fit in this?”

  “It’s bigger on the inside.”

  “It’s a Tardis?”

  “No, it’s a Smart car.” The bear opened the driver’s side door. It fished under the driver’s seat to flip the latch and push it back all the way.

  “Do you want me to drive?” Dugan said. “I do have my learner’s permit.”

  The bear paused as if he was considering it. “It’s a stick.”

  Dugan glanced at the shifter between the seats. Instead of labeled “PRNDL” it had “12345R.” “Manual transmission? I’ve never tried driving one before.”

  The bear grunted as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “This should be interesting then.”

  “Wait. It’s your car—isn’t it?”

  “Doh.” The bear grumbled as he didn’t fit behind the wheel in any way that the designers imagined. While the car provided a lot of leg room, it wasn’t wide enough for the grizzly. “I just don’t usually drive it this way. Get in if you’re coming with me.”

  Dugan wasn’t sure if he’d actually fit in the car with the bear. It overflowed into the passenger seat. Also enclosing himself in a very small space with a very big, meat-eater probably wasn’t the sanest thing to do. If he didn’t go with it, though, he couldn’t control the chaos that was about to ensue at his school. He didn’t like Dr. Creagh but the rest of the teachers and staff didn’t deserve to be terrorized.

  He eased himself into the Smart car.

  The bear smelled like clover hay, freshly cut and drying in the summer sun. It was a surprising and not unpleasant scent. Its fur was much softer than he expected.

  Jenny’s parents had owned the skin of a black bear that they had tacked to the wall of their living room. The fur had been coarser than that of a coon hound. His bear was unnaturally soft—like a rabbit. That the grizzly was fluffy, soft, and sweet smelling jarred Dugan’s sense of reality.

  With the bear overflowing onto his side of the Smart car, it took a minute for Dugan to arrange himself, his camera, his ammo bag, and his muzzleloader in the tight space left over.

  “Close the door,” the bear said.

  “I’m getting to it.” Dugan had to hitch himself closer to the bear to actually get it shut. There. He was in a very small car with a very big bear.

  They sat for a full minute in silence.

  “Can you turn the key?” the bear finally asked.

  “W-w-why me?”

  “I’m afraid that I’ll snap it off in the ignition.” The bear held up his massive right paw and flexed it. “Not a primate. No opposable thumb.”

  Dugan leaned over to turn the key, wondering how the hell the bear drove the car when he didn’t have a passenger.

  Backing the car onto the logging road required several minutes of annoyed rumbling and furry elbows in Dugan’s face. An angry grizzly in a tight enclosed space was a frightening sound. Dugan pressed himself tight against the passenger door and made sure it was unlocked, so he could bolt quickly. The only comfort was that the bear wouldn’t be able to quickly follow; it was wedged in tight behind the steering wheel.

  Once on the road proper, though, the bear proved to be a calm, skilled driver, manual transmission and all.

  He was in a car with a grizzly bear going to fight a monster at his high school.

  Maybe. If he wasn’t so crazy that he could no longer tell truth from reality.

  His high school was in the shadow of Thorny Creek Mountain. It had been built in 1968 as a merger of three different towns whose old schools were being torn down. It was, by necessity, equally distant from all three population centers. He’d just never noticed how isolated it was from everything. There was nothing but fields and trees for as far as the eye could see.

  Dugan scanned the parking lot full of cars. The angel’s black Land Rover wasn’t among them. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad. He wasn’t sure what kind of car that Dr. Creagh owned. He wasn’t even sure if the man—monster—whatever—drove. He vaguely remembered someone saying something about the new psychologist living near the school, with the implication that he walked to work. There were some houses on down the side road, out of sight of the school.

  The bear started to pull into the first free slot. It put the Smart car in direct view of the offices.

  “No!” Dugan pointed toward th
e narrow lane that led back to the baseball diamond. “If we drive up there, we can park the car where no one will see us get out.”

  The bear grunted. “I suppose that would be wiser.” It guided the car up the lane. There were one or two worrisome grinding sounds as the car bottomed out on the rough, twisting steep grade. The school was ringed with pines, screening the baseball diamond from anyone that might have noticed the Smart car drive past.

  The bear fumbled with the key ring and then growled with annoyance. “Turn it off.”

  “Okay.” Dugan turned the key. “Let me go first.”

  “For God’s sake, why?”

  “If anyone sees you they’re going to call the police.”

  “Hm, I suppose you’re right.” The bear cursed as he attempted to open the door without breaking the handle.

  Dugan hopped out of the car. He ran around to the other side and opened the driver’s door. “Stay back and let me do the talking. I’m good at talking.”

  “So you claim.” The Smart car shook and swayed as the bear attempted to climb out without damaging his car. Dugan’s thoughts flashed to Winnie the Pooh, stuck in Rabbit’s door for a week. Surely the bear couldn’t get wedged in his own car.

  The right side wheel lifted off the ground as bear heaved himself to the left. Dugan scurried back, afraid that the car would roll. With a curse, the bear forced himself out the door and the wheels thumped back onto the ground.

  They walked down the hill, keeping the pine trees between them and the school. It was weird that despite the fact that they’d been traveling for nearly an hour between walking to the car, struggling for the bear to get in and out, and the drive itself, Dugan hadn’t considered the actual upcoming confrontation. What was the bear planning to do? Maul Dr. Creagh?

  “We just need the man to sign the paperwork saying I don’t need therapy anymore.” Dugan was keenly aware that he still wasn’t entirely sure that there was a talking bear walking beside him. The fact that he was at the school seemed to prove he was, but it all felt more surreal that any other moment in his life. How was this real? Shouldn’t real feel more normal? Boring? It didn’t help that sheer nervousness was making him want to giggle like a five-year-old. This had to be actually happening but cold reason insisted that he wasn’t about to walk into the school with a grizzly bear. He had to be alone and something was seriously wrong with him to not be able to find any rational proof that he wasn’t.