Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

“Bert took you to meet Mack,” Kevin said. “I’m pretty sure he paid for the stadium lights. They used to use fire for light, then gas generators, and some still do, but poor ventilation makes either option extremely dangerous. Mack helped them get power down here. He has a solar panel farm and some wind turbines that power the place.”

  “I’m not an electrician,” Hunter said, “but wouldn’t powering a little town like this use a lot of energy?”

  “Yes,” Kevin replied. “The power down here is finicky at best.”

  “How far away are they? I’d think they need to be close.”

  “Eureka Springs isn’t shaped like a normal town,” Bert said. “Think about the strange road system they have winding through the hills. There are forests all around town. Remember that house my mom used to live in with the deer always in her yard? She was technically in town, but the whole area is surrounded by forest, some not easily accessible by road. Mack has a large gated farm tucked away for whatever it is he does. He supplies light... And nobody in town questions him bringing vampires in that can’t seem to handle the real world.”

  Hunter nodded. “So, this is basically just a giant refugee camp?”

  Jim said, “Now I think you’re getting the idea.”

  As they strolled into town, people eyed them warily as they passed.

  “Try not to look like a tourist,” Bert said. “They don’t get a lot of visitors. Some folks aren’t comfortable with strangers.”

  Up close, it became clear just how poverty stricken the Underbelly was. Most of the people they passed were dressed in rags, while Bert and company were dressed in new, clean clothes. Clearly they were topsiders.

  Bert looked at Hunter and saw his friend was struggling to keep the shock from his face. They didn’t live in the wealthiest part of the country to begin with, but his guess was that Hunter had never experienced poverty like this. Nor had he ever witnessed the strange creatures roaming the streets. Few had.

  There was a reptilian woman in a faded sun dress, her skin green and scaled. She flicked her split tongue at Hunter as they passed. A short monkey-looking man strolled by, tipping his sombrero at them. A creature covered in feathers eyed them skeptically, snapping its beak in warning. A two-headed woman with bright pink skin winked one of her four eyes at them.

  Some kids ran past, making noise and playing just like any other children. They just didn’t look like other children. One kid in the back stopped, staring at the strangers. He was clothed in ancient, dirt stained overalls. His feet and hands were solid black with built-up soot. He had one large eye in the center of his forehead, which blinked at them curiously. He gave them a gapped-tooth grin and said, “Are y’all from the surface?”

  Jim stepped forward and leaned down toward the kid. “We sure are.”

  “Why do people from the surface have such funny looking clothes?”

  Jim looked back at the others, a pained look on his face. His friends shrugged. Jim looked back at the small child, not sure what to say, “Uh... Well...”

  “Are y’all like princes or sumpin’?”

  “No,” Jim said, smiling. “What would make you think that?”

  “Well, y’alls from the surface. Only special people gets to live up there. Kings and queens, and princes and princesses. My momma says everyone up there is rich. Is y’all rich?”

  Jim stared down at the ground, not sure how to respond. Bert couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know what to say either. It truly was a cruel world in which a child would be forced to live and grow up in these conditions, simply because he was different from the average human.

  Seeing the pain in Jim’s eyes, Bert forced himself forward. “No, we aren’t special, little dude. We definitely aren’t princes. Funny though, I was just about to ask if you were the prince here.”

  The boy eyed him suspiciously and said, “I ain’t no prince! Can’t you tell?”

  “I don’t know,” Bert said. “You look like a prince to me. Certainly, someone pretty special.”

  The boy laughed. “You’re silly!”

  A middle-aged woman in an old faded red dress ran up and grabbed the boy. “Don’t be bothering them strangers!” She pulled the child behind her and said, “Please, sirs, my boy meant you no disrespect. I promise!”

  “He wasn’t bothering us,” Jim said, putting up his hands defensively. “We were just chatting with him. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She eyed them each carefully.

  Bert put on his warmest smile. “Truly, we don’t mean you, or your son, any harm.”

  She nodded but her suspicious gaze didn’t waiver. “Well, I’ll be taking this one back home, I think.”

  Jim reached in his pocket. “Hey, before you go.”

  The woman pushed the child behind her again.

  Jim pulled out a candy bar and held it out to the boy.

  Now they both looked at him suspiciously.

  Jim stammered out, “It’s just a candy bar… A way of saying thank you for talking to us.”

  “I heard about candy bars,” the boy said, giving his mother a pleading look.

  The mother said, “I don’t know.”

  “Aww mom, c’mon.”

  “Please, I insist,” Jim said. “I promise it’s harmless.”

  “Well...” the woman was staring intently Jim. “Okay, I guess.”

  The boy cried with delight and took the candy from Jim’s hand. The mother gave him a tap on the back and said, “What do you say?”

  “Thank you, mister!” said the boy. “Mom, can I go show my friends?”

  “No, I think it’s better you put it in your pocket and just take it on home.”

  “Okay,” the boy said with a frown.

  “Thank you for the kindness,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just...”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Jim said. “We didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “He’s all I’ve got, ya’ know?” she said, glancing at her boy. “Since his father died... Well, you don’t need to hear my sob story. It’s just hard.”

  Jim put his hand on her shoulder. “Is there anything we can do for you? Anything you need?”

  She shook her head. “No, you’ve been kind enough.”

  “Well, maybe we can bring more candy next time,” Jim said. “Enough for all the kids.”

  “That would be wonderful,” she said. “They don’t have much. Most of them only ever heard rumors about candy, or TV, or video games. Most have never even seen the sun.” She rubbed her eyes. “But enough of that. I’m sure you gentlemen have business. I’ll leave you to it.... And thank you.”

  She turned and strolled away.

  Jim looked at the others. “I really hate this place.”

  Bert couldn’t argue. Every time he came down here it was an utter culture shock. It just wasn’t right, and he hated the Hand of Magic for it. Surely they could do something more. But then, so could he, couldn’t he? He patted Jim on the shoulder and said, “Everyone hates this place, Jim. Let’s keep moving.”

  They worked their way down to the street and stopped in front of a small building. Hunter looked up at the sign on the door and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “No, they’re for real,” Bert said. “The Underbelly Saloon.”

  Neil chuckled. “Yeah, folks in the Underbelly like to drink, too.”

  “But how do they pay for it?” Hunter asked.

  “They don’t completely lack an economy,” Bert said. “Mostly they barter and trade goods or services, but a few have access to the top side, so they deal in real money. The locals who come in here mostly trade food, salvage, work, or whatever is worthwhile. The bar owner, Brock, will happily take real money, though, because she can go topside.” He grinned. “She even carries my moonshine from time to time.”

  They walked in and found themselves in an old-fashioned saloon. A pianist sat in the corner, dressed fresh out of the 1800’s, playing an old western tune. He had four arm
s. Two stroked the keys while another held a beer, and the last held a cigarette.

  On a small stage was an orange-skinned woman with four breasts, scantily clad and putting on a show.

  The place was packed, but they managed to secure a corner booth.

  Hunter glanced at the dancer and said, “And there’s something else you don’t see every day.”

  “Just wait,” Kevin said, chuckling. “They have all kinds of exotic dancers... I mean literally exotic.”

  A tall woman approached the table, stocky and well-muscled. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and an all-business attitude. Unlike most of the patrons, her clothes were better kept, but simple. She wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a bar apron. “Waylon, I’m not out of shine. What are you doing here?”

  Bert shrugged. “Hey, Brock. Just thought we’d stop in and say hello.”

  “Hey,” she replied. “So, what do you really want?”

  “A round of beers?”

  She snorted and headed back toward the bar. Bert hopped up and followed her, waiting until she was out of range of his friends before he asked, “Have you heard about anything strange going down?”

  “In the Underbelly?” She snorted again and started pouring beers. “You wear a blindfold on the way in?”

  “I mean in general. Have you heard anything?”

  “No. Something going down I should know?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he replied, shaking his head. “But keep your eyes open.”

  “Will do.”

  “So, what’s new in the Underbelly?”

  “They’re thinking about electing a mayor. Apparently someone threw my name in the hat.”

  “You as mayor of the Underbelly?” He gave an approving nod. “I’d vote for you.”

  “You don’t get to vote, topsider,” she replied, glaring. “Besides, I’m not sure I’m interested.”

  Bert chuckled. “Of course you are, you big softy. Everyone knows you’re all about making this place a little better. And you’re not half as mean as you pretend. You’re the right candidate. Hell, you’re the only candidate.”

  “Keep your voice down,” she said, scowling. “You’re going to ruin my reputation.”

  Bert grinned and helped her carry the drinks back to the table, then handed her a little more cash than they cost. He knew she’d put it to good use. She nodded her thanks and strode back to the bar.

  Hunter said, “That has got to be one of the toughest looking women I’ve ever seen.”

  “She’s not just tough looking,” Bert assured him. “She’s about as tough as they come.”

  “So, why is she down here? I mean, she looks pretty normal.”

  “I don’t know what her supernatural connection is, but if you asked me, which you did, she’s just a good person. She runs this bar to help the community. I could be wrong, but that’s how I’ve always seen it.”

  Neil raised his glass and the others followed suit. “Let’s have a toast...while Bert finally gets around to telling us what happened with Senechal.”

  Bert glared at him, and Neil reached over and stole his beer. “Hey!”

  “Not until you promise to tell the story,” Neil said, doing is best to look indignant.

  “Fine,” Bert said, scowling. “Give me my beer and I’ll tell the damn story.”

  Neil handed it over with a triumphant grin. They raised their glasses again. Neil said, “Here’s to—”

  A loud bang outside cut him off. The piano stopped and the bar quieted for a moment.

  “That was a gun shot,” Hunter said, eyes wide.

  “It’s the Underbelly,” Bert replied. “Gunshots are a little too common.”

  His voice was drowned out beneath the sound of automatic gunfire. Everyone in the bar hit the ground.

  Hunter yelled, “Is that normal?!”

  “No!” Bert yelled back. “I think story time is going to have to wait, guys!”

  Chapter 26

  Jim summoned a magical shield around Bert and the others. Among the group, Jim was the strongest at shields by far, and he could cover all five of them effortlessly.

  Protected, Bert rose to his feet and glanced around. It didn’t appear anyone in the saloon was hurt. Over at the bar, Brock pulled an AR-15 from behind the counter. She set it on the bar and retrieved a pump action 12 gauge which she tossed to the piano player. Then she produced a lever action rifle which she handed off to another bartender. Keeping the AR to herself, she checked the clip, chambered a round, and nodded at Bert as she flipped off the safety.

  “Everyone stay low,” Bert said, glancing around the saloon. “If you have a weapon, arm yourself. There’s no telling what’s going on outside, but it sounds like a goddamned war zone.”

  Brock ducked lowed and moved over beside him. “Is this what you were referring to?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “But we need to find out what’s going on out there. Just keep everyone low and we’ll check it out. We’ll be back as quick as we can, if we can. If not… Well, then, we won’t.”

  Bert signaled to his friends and they rose to their feet. Gasps went up around the bar as they dropped the veil on their staves.

  Neil glanced at Hunter. “Looks like you may get to see some magic.”

  Hunter nodded in reply and drew his 1911.

  Bert gave him a nod and said, “Hunter, no matter what happens, stay in the middle of us. In fact, stay glued to Jim’s hip. That’s the safest place you can be.”

  “Understood,” he replied, moving to stand next to Jim. Bert took point, with Neil right beside him. Kevin brought up the rear. He couldn’t remember the last time the four of them had worked together, but he was proud to see everyone remembered their positions. Just like riding a bike, their years of practice still paid off. Bert and Neil always took the front, or either side of Jim, because they were the best with attack magic. Jim took the center to cover everyone with his shields. Kevin took the rear, saving his ability to augment his own strength if someone tried to attack them from behind. They called it the Phalanx.

  Staying in formation, they stepped out in the street.

  “My God,” Hunter said. “What is this?”

  The other didn’t have an answer. It was a massacre. Bodies lay strung about, the dirt-covered street now a river of blood. Civilians, citizens of the Underbelly, lay dead all around them, riddled with bullet holes.

  “This way,” Bert said, leading them into the alley behind the saloon. There were a few main roads through the Underbelly, but much of it was tight alleyways which would offer concealment. He led them around a few corners then back toward the main road, sticking close to walls, and looking for a place where they could peek out behind cover.

  Ahead were a few old trash barrels and some crates stacked waist high. On the other side was the main road. It was the best he could hope for.

  He motioned to Neil, who turned around and covered their rear. The others fell in line with Bert, ducking down by the crates and peeking over at the main street.

  Men, who looked an awful lot like ninjas, stood in the street among the corpses. On closer inspection, Bert realized some of them were wearing combat fatigues and balaclavas, so still ninja-like, but these held assault rifles, while the more ninja-ish ones had swords. He had a sick feeling he knew who they were.

  One of the Underbelly folks was still alive, despite being shot numerous times. Running on what Bert guessed was pure instinct and adrenaline, he was attempting to crawl away while screaming desperate inhuman cries. One of the sword-wielding ninjas stepped forward and drove his blade into the man’s back. He cried out once more and then his body sagged to the ground.

  “Who the fuck are these guys?” Kevin asked in a whisper.

  “The Brotherhood of the Magic Bane,” Bert replied.

  Jim whipped his head around. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  Bert shook his head.

  From the back, Neil asked, “How do you know?”

>   Bert glanced at each of them and said, “I met one recently.”

  Neil shook his head in disbelief and said, “How the fuck?”

  Kevin growled, “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even think these guys were real.”

  “Oh, they’re real,” Bert assured him. “And they’re bad news. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

  “What about these people?” Jim asked.

  “I don’t know,” Bert said, shaking his head. “They suppress magical energy. Our spells are pretty much useless. We need to warn Carter. That’s the best I can think to do.”

  “And what do you think that prick will do?” Kevin asked. “He doesn’t care about these people.”

  “I don’t know, Kevin. Maybe the Hand has some kind of protocol in place.” Bert wasn’t confident in his words, and from the looks on his friends’ faces, they weren’t either. “Let’s move toward the exit and see if they have the way out covered. Then, if we need to, we can work our way back toward the Saloon. In this fight, Brock’s people are better armed than us.”

  No one argued the point, and Bert moved back down the alley, wielding his gun instead of his staff. They came around the next corner and found it deserted. They moved on, winding through the next alleyway, the sounds of gunfire still echoing from every direction.

  Bert poked his head around a corner, and it looked as though the path to the stairs was clear. Remembering his previous encounter with the ninja who’d appeared in the van, he doubted they’d left the stairs uncovered. He probably just couldn’t see them.

  He led them down another alley and they found themselves near the edge of the town. Down the main street, bodies were strung about as before. Bert turned his head and started marching toward the next alleyway and the possibility of escape. He felt like a coward, but Robert had been pretty clear. Against the Brotherhood, their magic was useless. His own experience had proven this to be true.

  “Wait,” Jim said, turning and running back toward the main road.

  Bert glanced at Neil, who shrugged, and they took off after Jim. He was their best shield and without him they’d be in much worse trouble if the Brotherhood stumbled on them.