“As if you didn’t know.”
“Actually I don’t,” I said honestly.
“Don’t try and...” François stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment. “You really have no idea?”
“Nope.”
“Me neither,” Sally replied.
“I got nothing,” Ed added.
Turd growled and took a step toward us. “They lie!”
Oh crap. Even armed as we were, we stood absolutely zero chance against both of them together. François appeared willing to talk, but if Turd decided we needed to die a grisly (and sticky) death, I was willing to bet that François would be more than willing to lend a hand.
Thinking quickly, I decided to do what I did best when confronted by deadly hell-beasts ... bluff my ass off.
“We’ve already done this dance, Turd,” I snarled, taking my own step forward ... coming disturbingly close to being within his reach. “You lost. Try me again and I’ll chew you up and spit you out like the little shit you are.”
Hold on. Did I just imply that I eat shit?
To my incredible relief, though, Turd actually hesitated. It gave Sally and Ed both a chance to level their respective weapons at him, hopefully adding to my threat.
Still, if Turd smelled us coming, I had little doubt he’d soon catch a whiff of our desperation. I needed to keep talking and hope for a break.
“Is it really worth it, you two? Seriously, you’d both risk war over ... syrup?”
“War?” François spat. “You honestly don’t know what this is about, do you?”
“That’s what we said.”
“Turd, stand down. I don’t think that will be necessary.” The monstrous ape turned toward him with a glare, to which François quickly added, “Please, your mightiness. It behooves none of us to resort to bloodshed ... for now.”
Mollified, Turd relaxed and stepped back. I wasn’t sure if François was genuinely afraid of him or just kissing his hairy ass, but whatever the case, it worked. I nodded to my friends and they lowered their guns. This was the break we were hoping for. Now we just had to make use of it. The trick was going to be getting these two psychos to talk and then figuring out some way to make a break for it. I tried thinking back to my high school chemistry classes. Was maple syrup explosive? Nah, probably not.
“There will be no war, Freewill. There was never going to be,” François said in a confident tone.
“So then why the hell are we all out here in Bumblefuck, Canada?” Sally asked, not really helping things.
“Stupid T’lunta. You here because Turd is smart. I know worth of sacred trees. Worth that others will pay dearly for.”
“So ... you want to be a lumber baron?” I asked, confused.
“No!” François exclaimed. “My God, you are dense. I’ve already said it. The syrup, it’s worth its weight in liquid gold.”
My friends and I exchanged dubious glances with one another. I was fairly sure none of us had been expecting that. Hell, I suddenly wasn’t sure that we hadn’t somehow walked onto the set of some weird-ass reality TV show. This was almost too fucking surreal to be happening.
“So let me get this straight,” I said, indicating the barrels behind me. “This whole thing: the conference, the threat of war, everything ... is all so you two can corner the worldwide syrup market?”
“He who controls the maple, controls Canada,” François replied, an avaricious gleam in his eye.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Foolish child, do you not know the value of that which you stand before? Why, in your country alone it’s a six billion dollar market.”
“Really?”
“Yes!” he cried, the crazy coming to the forefront.
“So all that shit from the other day, the ritual combat and all was a setup?” Sally asked.
“Quite true.”
“But what about Turd’s mate?”
At this, Turd chuckled. “Turd have many mates. She was least favorite.”
Ed shook his head. “Harsh, dude.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” François replied with a sneer. “There are always bound to be pawns in any chess game. Take the Khan, for instance. The fat fool dared occupy my rightful seat on the First Coven.”
“That was all part of this, too?” I stammered, not quite willing to believe a syrup-derived plot could be so far reaching. This shit would blow Scooby-Doo’s mind.
“Of course. We needed a way to bring all the parties to the negotiating table. He was a more than acceptable casualty.”
“And now that we know, we get to be acceptable casualties too, right?” Sally asked, gripping her gun tighter. “Just how I always wanted to check out – killed by Aunt Jemima.”
“So that’s how it’s going to be then, eh?” I asked, readying myself for an attack that was probably only moments away.
“There’s no need for that,” François said calmly. “Unless you force my hand, that is. Killing the tramp and the human would be inconsequential. However, killing the legendary Freewill would lead to uncomfortable questions. I would just as soon not deal with such.”
“But you have to know I’m going to rat you out,” I replied.
“Will you?”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure I just said I would.”
“That would be a shame. Then I couldn’t offer you a share of the profits in exchange for your silence.”
There was a pause in the conversation. Did this dickhead just offer me a bribe? He must’ve thought we had rocks in our head to...
“How much are we talking about?” Sally asked.
“What? Are you seriously...”
“I’m with her, Bill,” Ed said. “Let’s hear him out. He did say it was a six billion dollar industry.”
“Yeah but...” and then it hit me. Ed was right. I could stand on my principles and try to fight my way out of this mess ... probably losing in the process. Or I could take a big fat paycheck, keep my stupid mouth shut, and walk out of here both wealthy, a hero, and without getting my ass kicked. Don’t get me wrong. I like to think of myself as a pretty ethical guy ... but I’m not a fucking idiot.
I looked at my companions. They both nodded. Still, I had to consider the consequences of my actions. I’d be a hero, sure, but it would be undeserved. Also, there was a good chance that this asshole would get credit for the peace talks and end up winning the open slot with the Draculas. From what I had heard, they were already a giant cluster of dicks. Did I really want to make it worse by putting this douche on the ruling council, fucking over a friend – James – in the process?
On the other hand, not dying was definitely appealing. Fulfilling this would also get the Draculas off my back with regards to the debt they felt I owed them. Then there was the money. Not having to work again was a serious perk. I could buy myself a new computer. Hell, I could buy a nice car and new clothes. I could even afford to whisk Sheila away on a romantic weekend for two to someplace exotic like Aruba. But would she respect me if she knew I had done this?
Fuck it! It’s not as if she would ever know. Should I ever confess my love to her, I doubt it would include a statement about selling out the vampire nation.
That settled it. Aruba, here we come.
“I think we can make a deal,” I said. “Like Sally was saying, how much are we talking about?”
“Ten million at the very least,” François answered with a big grin.
Whoa! Papa gonna buy himself a very nice brand new bag. “Each or split three ways?” I asked – hey, since we were negotiating.
“You misunderstand, Freewill,” François said. “There will be no split. The less who know about this, the better. As I said, their deaths are inconsequential.”
Uh oh.
I opened my mouth to protest. “Now wait just a...”
Unfortunately, I was a second too late. One of the barrels went flying over my head, slamming into Turd like a ... syrup filled missile, I guess. The container shattered, drenching both
François and him in the goop. Unfortunately, Turd didn’t budge an inch from the force of the impact.
“Turd no like being sticky.”
“You’ll regret th...” François didn’t get a chance to finish the threat as another barrel slammed into him. Sally’s aim was impeccable.
“Move, now!” she ordered, right before opening fire. Before Ed and I could even take a step, both François and Turd had each taken a fifty caliber slug in the leg. No way was it going to stop them, but it would hopefully make all the difference in a foot race – which is exactly what we found ourselves in. Except instead of a gold medal, the prize was our lives.
French Fried Mountain Oysters
“Please tell me you’re still packing those silver slugs,” I said, making it back outside.
“Never leave home without them,” Sally replied with a sly grin. That was good. Silver didn’t mix well with vampire blood. Right about then, François’s leg should be starting to look like a giant Roman candle. Unfortunately, I had no idea if it would have the same effect on Turd.
“Think it’ll stop them?” Ed asked.
A bellowing roar answered before I could. Yep, that was about what I expected.
“Sally, you take Ed and make a run for it. I’ll try to hold them off.”
“Really?”
“No, not fucking really! Do I look batshit crazy to you?” I replied, bolting for the tree line.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Crippled or not, we can’t outrun them at this pace,” Sally stated. She was right. Our vampiric speed was one thing, but Ed was still human. Though arguably in better shape than I was, he wasn’t exactly a long distance sprinter (I had once heard him say, “People who have time to jog should get a second job”). I wasn’t about to leave him behind and thus had matched his pace. Sally, in a surprising show of humanity, had done likewise.
“I’m open for suggestions.”
“You could leave me behind and try to find help,” Ed said.
“No way, dude.”
“Good,” he replied with a grin. “Because if you had said yes, I would’ve shot you in the back.”
“Asshole.”
“If you two are finished verbally blowing each other,” Sally growled, “we could use a real plan.”
Another roar followed by a splintering crash told us that the Sasquatch leader was on the move. If we were going to come up with something above and beyond let Turd run us down and tear us limb from limb, it would have to be soon.
“It sounds like there’s only one of them,” Ed said. That made sense. As I had noticed earlier, the settlement had looked deserted. The other Bigfeet had presumably been sent ahead to prep for the day’s events. Still, I would have expected at least a few guards. Was it possible that Turd was keeping his dealings with François under wraps from his own people?
Turd obviously kept some of his followers in the loop. That would explain the Squatch that accused us of being defilers. On the other hand, there was Grulg. He was obviously not pleased with his leader’s antics. The big question was whether the majority of his people knew about this. Considering the empty village, I was willing to bet the answer to that was a big fat “no.” I had pretty much dismissed Turd’s technology fetish, but perhaps there was something to it after all. Maybe it was something we could use.
Another bellow echoed through the woods, this one a lot closer.
Shit! I wouldn’t be able to use anything against anyone if I got my head pounded into mush.
“We need to make a stand,” I shouted, before I could consider the idiocy of saying so. Seems the Dr. Death persona deep within my psyche was once again feeling brave. Oh well, it was better than nothing ... barely.
“We can’t outrun him in the woods, and we can’t hide either. But if we concentrate everything we have, we might be able to stop him.”
“I can dig that,” Sally said, loading a fresh clip into her comically oversized handgun.
“No killing,” I warned.
“Aw, you take all the fun out of my afterlife.”
“If we do that, we might as well sign the declaration of war ourselves.”
“Bill’s got a point,” Ed agreed.
“First time for everything,” Sally replied. “What about François?”
“Fuck him,” I said. “We light that asshole up like the Fourth of July.”
“Ooh,” she purred. “Now you’re making me all tingly inside.”
♦ ♦ ♦
We got lucky and emerged into a small clearing. At the far side, we stopped and took cover amongst the trees. Sally and Ed aimed their weapons while I readied the cattle prod just in case their guns didn’t stop him.
As we waited, inspiration hit (sorta). “If he doesn’t go down, stop firing and try to draw him off.”
“Why?”
“I’ll jump on his back and bite him.”
“Will that work?”
“Beats the fuck out of me.”
Sally and Ed both exchanged doubtful glances. Gotta love their faith in me. Oh, well, fuck it. It’s not as if they had anything better to offer.
We hunkered down and waited. The second Turd showed his ugly face, we were going to give him a twenty-one bullet salute.
Only he didn’t show up. Only seconds earlier, it had sounded like he was right behind us, but now it was quiet – too quiet.
Oh, fuck! Suddenly I remembered that these guys weren’t just giant, foul-smelling apes. They were giant, foul-smelling forest spirits. Trying to catch Turd in an ambush would be like a bunch of backwoods rednecks hoping to master the intricacies of the NYC subway system on their first try. A sinking feeling hit my gut. However, that almost immediately paled in comparison to the feeling that hit the back of my head.
WHAM
One second, I was thinking how fucked we were going to be, and the next I was sent flying, completely clear on the concept of how fucked we actually were.
I landed hard, eating dirt (I hoped) as the sound of gunfire erupted behind me.
♦ ♦ ♦
I was lifting myself from the ground when a foot planted itself squarely in my back, forcing me down. It was way too small to be Turd’s.
“You disappoint me, Freewill,” said François. “Such a strategy would have been pathetic for a two-year-old, much less a being of your legendary status.”
I tried to spit out a witty retort, but my face was pressed down into the dirt.
“What was that?” he asked, bemused. “Sorry, I didn’t catch you?” The foot lifted off me, but almost immediately impacted into my side. I rolled over onto my back with a gasp of breath. François’s foot came down onto my chest, again pinning me in place and cracking a few ribs for good measure.
I blinked the debris out of my eyes and looked to find him grinning down at me. “I believe you dropped this,” he said, bringing up a bloodied hand and dropping something from his fingers.
The Mourning Woods (The Tome of Bill Book 3) Page 29
