by Jeff Strand
They say things move in slow motion during moments where every split second counts, and I found this to be absolutely true. I reached for the arm holding Kyle and raked it with my fingernails, trying to break his grip on my son before he fell.
Ogre's grasp did not loosen.
Slow motion transformed back into regular speed as he dropped to the ground.
And landed on his knees, not on my son.
For a terrifying moment I thought he'd tumble forward onto his stomach, but he sustained his balance. Kyle frantically but unsuccessfully tried to wiggle free.
Again, I raked Ogre's arm with my fingernails. Kyle leaned down and bit into the giant's flesh.
"Ow, shit!" Ogre screamed and released Kyle. He shoved him away. "You goddamn little cannibal!"
I punched Ogre in the face as hard as I could. This time he seemed to feel it.
"Kyle, run!" I shouted.
Ogre slammed his hands onto my shoulders. He stood up, lifting me with him.
"How about I grind your bones, bitch?" he snarled, squeezing his hands together.
My arms were pinned, but I kicked him over and over. By now I was filled with so much adrenaline that the pummeling took its toll. Ogre let me drop then grabbed the back of my neck.
He slammed my face into his gut and pushed hard.
The smell of rotten sweat was almost unbearable.
I couldn't breathe.
Dear God, I was going to suffocate against the belly of a five-hundred pound maniac. My face was pressed so tightly against his belly that I couldn't open my mouth to bite him.
I landed several blows with my fists that did absolutely no good.
I felt myself starting to black out.
"You little shit!" Ogre shouted, although his voice seemed to be miles away. "I'll tear your tiny little--"
I could suddenly breathe again.
"--head off!"
As I pulled away, Theresa jabbed the branch into Ogre's ribs again. He swatted her aside, only to be met by another branch in his other side, wielded by Kyle.
Though neither of the branches had poked right through his body, Ogre had spots of his own blood on his shirt.
Theresa jabbed him again.
So did Kyle.
In one smooth motion, Ogre swung his arms together, catching each of my children and slamming them into each other.
He tossed their dazed bodies aside as I grabbed my own branch and lunged at him again. This time it tore across the side of his head, still missing his eye.
He snatched the stick out of my hand, picked me up, hoisted me over his head like a professional wrestler, and tossed me into the air. I landed hard next to Kyle and Theresa, sure I'd broken something.
Ogre wiped the blood off the side of his head. "I'm gonna eat all three of you right up," he said, enraged. "I'm your death. I'm the bogeyman." He stepped toward us. "And I like little girl meat the best of all."
Every muscle ached. My bones felt like eggshells. My blood felt like ignited kerosene. But I still got back up ... not in a fluid ballerina-like motion, but back up nevertheless ... and put myself between this monster and my children.
Ogre raised his fists and smiled. "You really think you can take me?"
I raised my own fists and gave him a steel-eyed gaze. "No."
"Good. Then we're in agreement."
He stepped toward me and I stepped toward him. We slowly circled each other like boxers.
Ogre spat out some blood.
I spat out some of my own.
He was almost five times my size, but I wasn't backing down.
"I'll hand it to you, you've got some spark," said Ogre, leering at me as if a fight weren't the only thing he had planned.
"I'm pregnant."
Uncertainty flashed in his eyes.
"That's right. You're beating up a pregnant lady. I bet that makes you feel like a real man, doesn't it?"
The leer returned. "You know, I said little girl meat was my favorite, but I was wrong. Do you know what really tastes the best? Do you know what I most like to feel rolling around on my tongue?"
I ran at him, claws extended, before he could finish.
He batted me aside.
"Yeah, you know what I'm talking about," said Ogre. "Maybe I'll just suck it right out of your belly for dessert."
I felt like I was going to vomit. But no. I couldn't let him get to me. They were just words.
Ogre made a vulgar slurping sound.
I ran at him again.
This time, instead of hitting me, he grabbed my arm and twisted it around my back. I cried out, pain richocheting from shoulder to wrist.
"Shhhhh ... not so loud, you'll wake the baby," said Ogre.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw something running toward us.
Joe.
The pug latched on to Ogre's foot and thrashed around, biting and snarling.
Ogre gave it a kick. Joe let out a high-pitched squeal then attacked his leg.
It was enough of a distraction. I reached around and grabbed a handful of blubber, digging my fingernails into Ogre's gut.
Theresa, who I hadn't seen get up, slammed a new branch into Ogre's side.
Ogre released my arm, grabbed my other hand, and pried it off his belly.
Theresa jabbed him again. The tip of the branch broke off in his side.
A second kick, a second squeal, but Joe kept fighting.
Ogre lurched his head down toward my face, mouth wide open, giving me a full blast of his fetid breath.
I leaned out of the way.
He lurched at me again, moving his mouth in an animalistic biting motion. His red teeth clacked together over and over, so viciously I thought he might shatter them.
I swear he growled.
He pushed Theresa out of the way, but she came right back at him, stabbing the branch wherever she could land a blow.
Ogre spun around, practically roaring, and reached for my daughter. I leapt up onto his back, wrapped both of my arms around his neck, and squeezed.
He grabbed my arms and tried to pry them off, but I refused to budge.
Nothing could make me budge.
I squeezed and squeezed, trying to crush his throat.
Ogre staggered away from Theresa, swinging around as he tried to dislodge me. It wasn't going to happen. I put everything I had, every last bit of strength I possessed in the entire world into breaking his neck.
"I'll kill you!" he screamed.
I wasn't squeezing hard enough if he could still scream.
"I'm gonna ... gonna..."
He let out a disgusting choking sound.
He stumbled around. My strangulation efforts were clearly doing some good. I couldn't possibly squeeze any harder, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let up.
He moved more and more erratically, swaying back and forth. And in an instant of raw horror I realized where our struggle had taken us.
I let go of him and slipped off his back.
His foot snapped the fishing line.
A long metal spear sailed down from the trees, striking the upper left side of his skull. The tip burst through his right thigh.
Ogre stood in place for what felt like an endless moment ... then fell.
I stared at him in shock.
Now the forest animals could eat him.
I turned away from the gruesome sight and Theresa rushed into my arms. I gave her a tight hug despite my aching limbs, and we hurried to Kyle, who still lay on the ground. The bite on his arm was deep, but he wouldn't bleed to death.
I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "Kyle? Are you with me?"
He nodded.
I wrapped my arms around my children. Joe didn't want to be left out, and licked my hand.
"Is the bogeyman dead?" Kyle asked.
"He wasn't the bogeyman," I said. "He was just a big fat loser. And yes, he's dead."
Kyle nodded his understanding.
"You were both very brave," I told them. "And I need you t
o keep being brave. We're going to help your father. I've got a plan."
Chapter Twelve
IT'S ANDREW AGAIN.
"One for you," said Troll, giving me a quick cut on the leg, "and one for me." He cut himself on the leg in the same spot. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me."
"Okay, that's enough," said Witch, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Let's get him back to the truck."
"One for you..."
"I said, that's enough!"
"Sometimes I think you don't appreciate the finer things in life."
"It's a wonder you have any skin left."
"You should see me naked."
"All right, enough! Let's get moving."
Witch kept her gun pointed at me while Troll stood up and pulled me to my feet. "Ready to go for walkies?"
"No, but I'm ready to crap on your front lawn."
"We don't really have a front lawn."
I almost offered to crap on his shoes, but there have to be minimum standards to even this type of conversation. With Witch keeping me very nicely covered with her gun, I got up and we headed back toward the store.
"So, Troll, is that your real name?" I asked.
Troll chuckled. "Do you always ask such dumb questions?"
"No, I just thought that might be how you guys met. Maybe at a party or something. 'Hi, I'm Troll.' 'No way, I'm Witch!' 'Wow, your parents hated you, too, huh?' 'Oh yeah. So, do you want to get together and hunt innocent vacationers in the Georgia shrubbery?' 'Sure, why not?'"
Troll snorted. "Like I said, you're a funny guy."
"Did you get to pick your own names?"
"Yeah."
"That's cool. Otherwise somebody could've gotten stuck with Orc or something. You just don't want to go around saying 'Hi, I'm Orc.' Or maybe Pixie. Why didn't you pick Dragon, though? Dragon would've been much cooler than Troll. When I think Troll, I think of a weasely little hairy thing living under a bridge eating goats."
"You know, Andrew, the only reason I'm letting you yammer on like this is because you're a dead man. Might as well get all the talking in while you still can."
"I disagree," said Witch. "Shut the fuck up."
"You heard the lady," Troll told me.
I stopped talking for the rest of the walk.
* * * *
WE REACHED THE store and went inside. "Oh, hell no," said Charlie, emerging from the far aisle. "Don't bring him back in here again!"
"He'll be good this time," Troll assured him. "All we want is some duct tape."
"Yeah, right. You shove any more of those candy bars in your pockets and I'll have your self-mutilating ass."
"Oh, waah, waah, waah. Quit being such a baby. When was the last time you had a customer in this place? Jeez, you've got gallons of milk in the cooler that are completely solid. I've seen 'em."
Witch held her walkie-talkie to her mouth. "Goblin, you there?"
"Yeah."
"We're at Charlie's place."
"I'm right around the corner. I'll be there before Troll can steal a pack of Rolos."
"Gotcha. Witch out."
Troll took a new roll of duct tape off one of the shelves and unspooled an armlength of it. "Put out your hands."
I obliged, if only because Witch hadn't stopped pointing that gun at me. Troll wrapped the duct tape around my wrists several times, binding them together.
"Put some over his mouth," said Witch.
"I don't think they make a roll big enough for that."
"Just do it."
Troll put a long strip of duct tape over my mouth.
A truck pulled into the parking lot outside. The motor turned off, and then Goblin entered the store.
"Oh my goodness," he said, grinning at me. "You're looking kind of humble there, Andrew."
I said something amazingly clever that was muffled by the duct tape.
"I'm very glad to see you again," said Goblin. "As I'm sure you know, I've had a really lousy day, and I can't think of any better way to improve it than to watch you get strapped to a table and have your body parts replaced with..." He put his hand over his mouth in mock realization. "Oops. That's supposed to be a surprise, isn't it?"
"We've got some good ones lined up," said Witch. "Maximum pain."
"That's what I want. I mean, sure, we could just throw him down to the floor right now and stomp him to a bloody pulp, but then, what progress would we have made?"
"You're not stomping a damn thing into a bloody pulp here," said Charlie.
Goblin waved dismissively at him. "Go organize some stock or something."
Charlie opened his mouth as if to say something, but settled for glaring.
"So, Andrew, I'm sorry to hear about your friends," said Goblin. "I hope it was quick."
I said something equally clever that was equally muffled. Troll ripped off the duct tape, and I grimaced in pain.
"What was that?" Goblin asked.
"I said, bite me."
"Good one."
Troll slapped another strip of duct tape over my mouth.
"Anyway, I think we've hung out in this squalor long enough. Let's deliver our new friend, Andrew, to the lab, shall we?"
Goblin's walkie-talkie crackled. "Is anybody there?" asked a voice I instantly, and joyously, recognized.
"Who is this?" asked Goblin.
"I'm Momma Bear. How about we make a deal?"
Goblin laughed incredulously. "What's with all the deals? You'd think we were brokers or something."
"Shut up and listen. Your large friend here fell down and went boom. What do you say we make a trade?"
"Could you describe this particular friend for me?"
"A quarter ton and lying unconscious at my feet."
"Is that so?" asked Goblin. "Now, you're a petite little thing, aren't you? How exactly did you manage to take out Ogre?"
"I had help. A seven-year-old, a nine-year-old, and a pug."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm having a bit of trouble with that scenario. The klutz dropped his walkie-talkie somewhere, didn't he? I think I'm going to need some proof. Describe the birthmark on his right shoulder."
A few seconds of silence.
"It looks sort of like a deformed butterfly."
"Uh-oh," Troll whispered.
Goblin frowned. "Okay, you've got my attention. What is it you want?"
"I want my husband and my friends back. You let them go, and I'll tell you where to find your buddy."
"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you," said Goblin. "Apparently two members of your party are deceased. Your husband's okay, though."
"Let me talk to him."
"That can possibly be arranged. First, let me hear Ogre."
"He's unconscious."
"I know. But he snores loud enough to wake the dead. Let me hear it."
"He isn't snoring."
"Now, see, we have a bit of a continuity error here, because Ogre always snores. Therefore, he must be..." Goblin trailed off as he apparently realized exactly what this meant. "...aw, shit."
Troll slammed his fist against one of the shelves. "What the hell is the matter with us today?"
"Shut up," Goblin snapped at him. He spoke into the walkie-talkie. "I want to share some important information with you, Momma Bear. You're not getting out of these woods, I promise you. I don't mean that as a vague threat, I mean you aren't getting out, case closed. But I'll make you a deal of my own. We're at the store where you all stopped not too long ago, and dear Andrew currently has all ten of his fingers. Every five minutes, the number of fingers will be reduced by one. Then we're going to put a gun in his mouth and make him pull the trigger with one of his bloody stumps. So you've got fifty minutes to get yourself over here and save your husband's life. Does that deal work for you?"
"Let me talk to him."
Troll tore off the tape again. One more time, and I was sure the tape would take my lips with it. Goblin held the walkie-talkie to my mouth. I shook my head and refused to speak.
&
nbsp; "Say something," Goblin demanded.
I remained silent.
Goblin shrugged, and then kicked me in the leg. I couldn't help but let out a grunt of pain.
"Did that sound like him?" Goblin asked into the walkie-talkie.
"Helen, stay away from here," I said. "They'll kill you. Are the kids okay?"
"Yes, we're still together."
"Don't come anywhere near the store. It's a trap. Get Kyle and Theresa to safety."
"Well, of course it's a trap," Goblin said. "The point was to see if true love would get her to risk her life to save yours. Tell me, Witch, has it been five minutes yet?"
"No, but we can cheat."
"Well, we don't want to cheat. That wouldn't be fair. Instead let's tweak the rules and say the clock started at the beginning of this conversation. Troll, find a pair of wire cutters."
"Don't worry about that, I've got my knife."
Goblin shook his head. "It'll be easier with the wire cutters."
"Why make it easy?"
"Because you won't be cutting off his finger." Goblin looked me in the eye. "He'll be doing it to himself."
"Oooooh, kinky," said Troll, laughing as he walked to the far aisle.
"If you get blood on any tools, you're paying for them," Charlie said. "I mean it."
"Helen, don't come here, no matter what," I said. "Let me talk to the kids!"
"Aw, this is so touching," said Goblin.
"Daddy...?" said Theresa, hesitantly.
"Yes, Theresa, it's Daddy. I love you, sweetheart."
On the other end I heard Theresa burst into tears.
"This is gonna make me sick," said Witch.
"You're right, enough of this sappy crap. Troll, are you going to get those wire cutters or do I have to gnaw his finger off myself?"
"Right here," said Troll, emerging from the aisle, waving a pair of wire cutters still in the package. "Nice and new."
"Who said you could open new merchandise?" Charlie demanded. "This is my store! You people don't get to just help yourselves to whatever you want!"
"Give it a rest, Charlie," said Goblin. "I mean it."
"Hey, we're in my store, and nobody tells me to--"
"Now!"
Troll glanced at the back of the package. "Oh, wait, it says here 'Not For Use On Human Fingers.' Doesn't say anything about toes, though."
Goblin snatched the wire cutters out of his hand. "Grow up. Get his hands free." While Troll used his knife to cut the duct tape binding my hands, Goblin removed the wire cutters from the packaging and held them in front of my face. "Well, Andrew, the clock is ticking, so we'd better get started. Are you left handed or right handed?"
