LOTTERY

Copyright (c) 2016 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

LOTTERY

By R. Peterson

Janet Reynolds took Jack to the sawmill, dropped Sally and Mick off at Altamaha Elementary School and then held her breath as the Ford F150 lurched smoking up to the pumps at QT’s Convenience Store. She was sure the way her morning was going that she’d run out of gas. There was $16.34 in her purse including the pennies and she needed diapers. Kit Kat was beginning to cry again. Janet didn’t blame her. The car-seat still smelled like bile from when the eight-month-old had been sick the day before.

Baxley only had one cop on duty at a time and Janet saw Bobby Joe Tinker come waddling out of Quick Trips tearing the wrapper off a giant Snickers bar while holding a bag of Chili-Cheese Fritos and a large Mountain Dew under his arm as he lumbered toward his patrol car. She hoped her ex-boyfriend was too hungry to notice the expired Georgia license stickers on her pick-up.

He turned his head, saw her and dropped the chips as he came running toward her. She didn’t know fat-men could run that fast. “Get out of your truck!’ he yelled. “Yall on fire!”

Janet laughed as she opened the rusted door. “Clarence at Repair-n-Run says the smoke is from bad-engine rings … whatever they are,” she said as she waved the smoke from in front of her face. “We go through two quarts of used-oil for every six gallons of gas.

Bobby Joe shook his head. “I thought for sure this old piece of junk was gonna explode any minute.”

            “This old truck was Jack’s pride and joy back in our school days,” Janet said. “I guess it’s just getting old like we all are.”

            “If you would have married me instead of that damn Raven’s first string quarterback I’d have you driving one of them Porsche nine-eleven’s’ or something more your style … not this old corn hauler.” Bobby Joe looked sincere.

            “On what Appling County pays its deputies,” Janet laughed, enjoying the flirting from an old beau. “Robert Joseph Tinker, you got the biggest heart in Georgia from your momma … but not a lick of sense when it comes to women.”

Bobby Joe took off his hat, wiped his forehead with his hand and glanced-up at the sun, obviously trying to change the subject.. “Damn! This here day’s gonna be hotter than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch.”

A low-riding midnight blue ’64 Impala cruised slowly past the on the highway, the glass-pack mufflers sounding like the rumble of thunder. The driver and passengers were just a dim reflection behind dark-tinted windows.  “That’s Harry Shanks Walton,” Bobby Joe stared, but only for a second. “Not someone you’d want to mess with. He just got out of Georgia State Prison at Reidsville two weeks ago for two counts of rape and murder in Savanna. I hear now he’s got himself a gang.”

            “I heard about those murders,” Janet said. “That was eight years ago … maybe he’s reformed.”

            “Prison don’t make you better … it makes you worse,” Bobby Joe told her.

            “Ain’t you going to arrest him for those noisy mufflers?” Janet couldn’t help but kid her old classmate.

            “I do my job … but I ain’t got no dern death-wish,” the deputy told her.

A flat-bed truck filled with teen-age boys, some standing up in the back drinking from cans and whooping, went past the other direction easily traveling well over the posted twenty mile-per-hour in-town speed limit and saved the deputy’s pride. “See you later, Janet. Damn High School graduation is in two weeks,” Bobby Joe muttered as he loped importantly toward his patrol car. “Kids now-a-days ain’t got enough smarts to take their beer-parties out a town.”

-------2-------

The inside of QT’s was a beehive of activity. Janet noticed a long line at the checkout counter and those waiting in line did not look like they had anything to purchase. “What’s going on?” she asked Mary Jennings who was setting up a floor display for Pepsi. “That damn lottery,” Mary said. “It’s over eighty-million and every peanut-picker in the county thinks they‘re gonna win it!”

Janet remembered Jack had asked her to buy a two-dollar ticket while they were eating breakfast. The truck needed at least ten in gas to get through the week and the cheapest box of Parent’s Choice diapers was $5.97. She would be a dollar short. “Sorry Jack, looks like we’re not gonna be featured on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous this week,” Janet muttered as she waited in line.

Leroy Folsom was in the check-out line in front of her. He was wobbly and smelled like half a case of  Cartersville Swamp Water. “What will Mr. Bud Weiser be buying today?” Mary Jennings’ little sister Lisa asked him with a grin. The sarcasm went right past Leroy’s thick Georgia skull. “I’ll have me a some of that-there Copenhagen chaw,” He waved his hand. “And a quick-pick,” he told her. “Make sure it’s a winner this time.” While Lisa was using the lotto-machine to print out his ticket Leroy knocked the chew off the counter. When he rose after picking up the tin of Copenhagen a folded dollar bill was in his hand. “You dropped your money,” he told Janet. His breath smelled like Black Eyed Peas and Ham Hocks. By the time Janet turned her face back to protest that the dollar wasn’t hers, the town-drunk was already staggering out the door.

“Tony Cordess said he caught Leroy having sex with a pig,” Lisa whispered when the door closed.

“That poor pig,” Janet told her.

            “Will this be all?’ Lisa asked Janet with a grin. “I’ll be pumping ten dollars of gas,” Janet said. She was counting her money in her head; with the dollar Leroy found, she just had enough. “Give me a quick-pick too,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t.” Janet smiled. “But you know Jack … he dreams about waking up in high cotton.”

            “Don’t we yall!” Lisa happened to glance at the numbers as she handed Janet the ticket “four-nineteen … that’s my birthday,” she said, “… hope it’s lucky!”

-------3-------

Jack offered to help with the dishes after supper, but Janet handed him a beer from the fridge and told him to relax. Sally and Mick were watching an episode of Blackish. “These people don’t act like any of the Negros we know, mama,” Sally said.

            “The correct term is African Americans,” Janet told her as she sat down … and TV is just make-believe.”

The semi-weekly lotto drawing appeared following a commercial for Budweiser light beer. “I know it’s only Wednesday but I feel like getting sloshed,” Jack said. He got up and walked toward the kitchen.

“Tonight’s lucky winners will share an estimated jackpot worth eighty-six million dollars,” the announcer said, as the cage with the numbered balls began to roll.

“Clarence says they might have to lay off six people if orders don’t pick up,” Jack said from the kitchen. Janet heard the bottle open as the first ball rolled down … six was the number printed on the side of the white ball. Janet looked at the lottery ticket lying on the coffee table: 4-19 -11 -6 -46 with the power-ball number 9. She picked up the ticket … and her hand trembled slightly.

            “I’ve only been working full-time since January,” Jack went on as she heard him open  the cabinet above the stove. “Any of those Barbeque Fritos left?”

The next white ball rolled down … number eleven. Janet felt her heart begin to pound like a jack-hammer as Jack kept on talking “I might have to ride the bus to Cartersville and get a job in the Anheuser Busch plant working in quality control … can you believe someone gets paid to drink beer all day and say if it’s good or not.”

The next ball rolled down … it was number forty-six. Janet stood up so fast she kicked the car seat Kit Kat was in and the baby began to cry. Jack was still talking. “Fat chance of that though, guys like Gary Andersen would do that job for a bowl of peanuts and a handy restroom.”

Janet’s hand was shaking so hard she had to look three times to read the numbers on the ticket. The next white ball was rolling down … number four. Janet opened her mouth but she couldn’t make a sound. The baby was beginning to wail … still Jack would not shut up. “Seriously,” he said washing down the words with beer. “I hear they might need help on the loading docks … I still have a valid fork-lift operator’s license.”

The last white ball rolled down …. It was number nineteen. Janet felt like she was going to faint. The room was starting to spin. The baby was crying louder. Sally and Mick sensed something was wrong with their mother and they began to cry too.

“And the power ball is …”  The announcer made his voice louder for dramatic effect. “Number nine!” From somewhere in the lottery studio background Louis Armstrong began to sing “… Oh how I’d love to be in that number …When the Saints go Marching In.”

“Tonight’s jackpot is worth an estimated eighty-six million dollars,” the announcer boomed over the music.

Janet finally found her voice … and she screamed. Jack came rushing into the living room. “What’s wrong?” he said.

-------4-------

“Max Jennings will charge us some gas when he knows how important this is.” Jack’s face was flushed and his eyes looked like they belonged in some wild animal’s head. Janet sat on the other side of Kit Kat’s car seat, squeezed together with Sally and Mick. She held a square Tupperware container, with the winning ticket inside, so tightly in her fingers as if it might blow out the window, that her knuckles were turning white.

            Mick was beginning to feel cramped. “It’s stuffy in here … can we open a window?”

            “No!” Jack and Janet both screamed at the same time.

They weren’t expecting the huge crowd at Quick Trips.  People were parked alongside the highway a quarter of a mile before the convenience store. The parking lot was so full of milling people there wasn’t any room for cars. Janet recognized the local news station truck as well as two other TV vans from Atlanta.

            “What’s going on?” Jack unrolled his window next to two of the guys he worked with, who were drinking beer in the parking lot.

            “Haven’t you heard,” Tony Cordess sounded drunk and smelled like it as he leaned in the window. “Some lucky #&^%$# won the lottery and they bought the ticket out of this store.”

            “Is that right?” Jack tried to sound innocent. Behind Tony, Jack recognized George Brady another co-worker who was beating his fists against the side of his own car. “That #&^%$^# close!” he was screaming to no one in particular.

            “Yeah,” Tony was slobbering. “The mayor, the chief of Police and about thirty news-people are inside the store right now grilling Mary Jennings’ little sister Lisa about who she sold the winning ticket to … she claims she didn’t notice the numbers and can’t remember.”

            “I’m sure she must have sold hundreds of tickets today with that much prize money,” Jack told his friend.

            “I know one thing,” Tony’s words were slurred. “When I find out who won my money … I’ll cut his nuts off. That money should have been mine. I’ve bought twenty-dollars worth of tickets in here every week for the last ten years!” He spit on the asphalt. “God Dam it to Hell … that money should have been mine.”

            “How do you know the winner was a he?” Janet tried to sound cheerful.

            “If it’s a woman that has got my winnings I’ll do a lot worse things to her,” Tony promised.

            “Some friends you’ve got,” Janet said as Jack rolled up his window.

            “He’s just drunk,” Jack said. “Money and booze will make anyone crazy.”

            “Looks like not winning makes people even crazier … still want to ask Max Jennings if he’ll charge you enough gas to get you and that winning ticket to Atlanta?” Janet asked as they moved through the mad-cap parking lot and back onto the highway.

-------5-------

            Jack and Janet were too wired-up to watch television and had finally got the children to sleep. They lay propped-up in bed with the Tupperware box between them, they each had a hand on it. The poor sandwich box had moved from safe-place to safe-place ever since they got home, going from Jack’s bottom drawer under a pile of socks to the tiny freezer compartment above the refrigerator wrapped in blood-smeared butcher-paper to look like a pound of hamburger.

            “I get paid on Friday,” Jack reasoned for about the twentieth time. “All we have to do is play it cool. No-body knows we got this ticket. To hell with the mortgage on the trailer-house. We’ll rent a reliable car that will get us to Atlanta from the Avis store in Macon… our truck will make it that far … after we cash the ticket and get the money all of our troubles will be over.”

            “What will it be like to be rich?” Janet sighed and closed her eyes. “We won’t live here in Baxley will we?”

            “Baxley!” Jack laughed. “Hell no! We’ll move to Paris or London … some place fancy. Who needs these cracker-heads?”

            “Our lives will change forever,” Janet said. “I have friends here … at least I did have.”

            “We’ll find new friends where we’re going … a lot of them.” Jack promised.

            They were still awake two-hours later. Janet put on her peek-a-boo nightgown she’d worn on their honeymoon, showing her pink bra and panties and they’d made love like two muskrats for over a half-an-hour … but it still didn’t relieve the unbelievable tension.

            “I have to go to work in the morning,” Jack moaned. “If I don’t show up at the sawmill someone might get suspicious.”

            “There’s a bottle of Benadryl I keep for my hay-fever above the sink,” Janet told him. “Take two of them with a glass of milk and they’ll knock you out for sure.”

An hour later they were finally sleeping soundly. Janet was the first to awaken from banging on the trailer door. Jack was still groggy from the drugs. “My God it’s two AM,” she said as she walked into the living room still wearing the naughty nightgown. “Who’d be coming around at this time of night?”

            “It’s me, Lisa Jennings,” a tiny voice said. “Can I come in? It’s very important.”

            “It’s Mary’s little sister,” Janet told Jack who was following behind rubbing his eyes. “She sounds like she’s been crying!”

Janet had just released the lock on the door and turned the knob when it burst inward. Two large bear-sized men with scared faces and one short-one with greasy black hair pushed Lisa into the trailer before them. Janet stared at the girl’s hands, her fingers were all bleeding and several of her fingernails appeared to be missing.

            “I’m sorry,” Lisa sobbed. “I didn’t want to say anything to anyone but they were waiting for me at my house.”

            “I believe yall have something that we want,” the biggest one sneered.

            “This is about the lottery ticket isn’t it?” Jack said. He was still holding the Tupperware box in his hand. He pushed it toward the now smiling man. “Take it … and leave us alone.”

            “We seem to have a little problem,” the man said. “Only the person who bought the ticket can cash it … and that will be in no less than twelve hours in Atlanta.” He reached out his hand and lifted the bottom of Janet’s teddy. She slapped his hand away.

            “Leave her alone!” Jack lunged forward and the other two men grabbed him from behind.

            “I’ve been in prison for eight years,’ the biggest man said as he viciously lifted Janet’s arms and held them above her head. “Do you know what going without a woman for that long does to a man?” He stared at Jack and then turned his black eyes back on Janet. He slowly began to lift her nightgown again as she began to sob.

            “It turns you into a #&^%$^#  animal,” the short, stalky men holding Jack said just before he punched him repeatedly in the face.

One of the men tied an unconscious Jack’s arms behind him with Janet’s bra and then stuffed her torn underwear into his mouth sealing it with duct tape as the two others dragged a kicking Janet and a now naked Lisa into the bedroom.

From somewhere in the dark Kit Kat’s cries mixed with Janet’s sobs. “She’s only sixteen,” Janet begged. “Do what you want to me, I’ll do anything you say, but leave her alone.”

            “We got eight years of real dirty thoughts in us,” the man said as Janet began to moan. “That’s going to take more than one woman and nine-hours to satisfy.”

To be continued …

           

           

           

CREEPAS part 3

Copyright (c) 2016 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

CREEPAS

Part 3

The Tomb of Thalnos

By R. Peterson

             No one wanted to leave Melania, but she insisted. “I’ll be perfectly fine,” she said. “Standing just outside the instance is the safest place.”

            “I’d feel a whole lot better if you came along,” Sheriff Walker said. “But I know someone has to be outside to resurrect us if we should die.”

Melania laughed. “It’s not if, it’s when.” She took both the Sheriff’s hands and forced him to look at her. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like to die? You are going to find out inside that tomb that Creepas just disappeared into. That un-dead Rogue possesses powers and abilities that are beyond your comprehension. I’m sure that you all will die at least twice. The only thing I’m not sure of is the third time. If you can destroy this demon, many more lives can be saved in this world, if not …. God help us all.”

Sheriff Walker held up the sword Tugg had taken from the chest and rotated it in his hand. “This looks like a lethal weapon,” he said. “But I’m not sure it can take down whatever is killing people in Cloverdale.”

            “Like the Mormon armor you’re wearing, you must believe in your tools and your abilities,” Melania told him. “Success depends on it.”

Tina shook her head at her cheap New Year’s Eve noisemaker while Tony chopped a huge jagged hole through the guardhouse door with his axe and David let fly a dozen arrows across the graveyard into a withered tree. “You can be serious,” she said. “Unless the stupid noise this thing makes can kill demons, I’m in a lot of trouble.”

            “You have a very important part in this party,” Melania said. “You must distract the monsters from their prey before they can finish them off.” Melania smiled. “I’m sure Creepas will hate this sound.” She turned toward Sheriff Walker, Tony and David. “When she distracts the monsters, whoever is most healed must step in and fight the creature to make sure she does not get attacked. This is very important. Do you understand?”

            “A typical bait and switch,” Tony said. “Me, David and Tugg have done this a thousand times in dungeons.”

Melania closed her eyes and rubbed her empty hands together for almost a minute then she carefully extracted five tiny glass vials from the wooden recipe box that appeared. “Use these to heal yourself,” she said as she handed a vial to each member of the group. “But only a single drop on your tongue, and only when you’re very weak. Too much … and you’ll swell up and burst like a balloon!”

            “#%$&^# cool!” David said carelessly dropping the tiny bottle into his coat pocket. “It’s like an energy drink!”

            “It’s more than a few B vitamins and a ton of caffeine,” Melania told him indignantly. “Each vial contains a thousand grains of diluted Apitoxin, or African honey bee venom mixed with wolf blood.” She said. “It will put that life-force pump in your stomach, that no doctor knows about, into high-gear … for about thirty seconds.”

Red and purple beams of light began to swirl around the moss-covered crypt entrance that Creepas had dragged Cynthia into. “You must go now,” Melania told them. Tugg handed the remaining skeleton key to Tony; the other key had dissolved when the chest was opened. “You go first,” he said. “We’re all right behind you.”

                “We go together as a group,” Tony said. He waited until they were in a tight group then began to slowly cross the open space toward the glowing tomb. “No laggards and no gung-ho mob-pullers bringing every boss-monster in the dungeon down on us.”

They were midway between the gate-house and the tomb when David stepped on a hidden switch in the grass. A steel door covered with sod opened in the ground and a swarm of ravens vaulted from the gaping hole and attacked the startled party. Sheriff Walker was trying to protect his eyes with his arm and swung the sword in the air blindly, as three of the huge birds attacked his neck, back and side. Tugg dropped his axe when a raven landed on his arm and began to peck his hand and another landed on one shoulder and started to tear off his ear. David dropped his bow and ran screaming toward Melania. He was less than fifty feet from her when he collapsed under a huge pile of flapping wings and snapping beaks. Tina stood turning in a circle, blowing the noisemaker and scaring away one bird as three others attacked from different sides.

Sheriff Walker was no more than a huge mound of feathers when an especially large raven lifted Tina high into the air and soared across the graveyard with her still blowing the noisemaker.

Moments later, all five appeared before Melania, shimmering like ghostly apparitions made of white-smoke and broken mirrors. “That’s one life!” she shook her head as she produced a Tarot card showing naked men, women and children rising from open graves. “God help us all if I have to use this Judgment card more than once more.”

                “It’s not so #%$^%# bad … death isn’t,” David said as he thrust his transparent arm through a stone wall and stared at the others.

-------2-------

            Melania took another card from the Ombré recipe box, this time two Acolytes were shown kneeling before the Hierophant ready to hear and pass on his teachings. Melania read from the back of the card in Latin and then vocalized the recipe out loud. “A word of color to each I give, to protect from harm and let you live.”

Melania then placed her hands on Tony’s head and said “Blue”.  She did the same for David, Tina, Tugg and the Sheriff giving them the colors black, pink, red and silver as they became once again living.

“#%$^%# black! I like it!” David danced around while a dark aura surrounded him. The others were haloed by their respective colors.

            “If any member’s color should disappear or turn pale,” Melania said. “It means they are in trouble and need help.”

            “And what color will you be?” The Sheriff asked Melania.

            “White of course,” she said. “The color of spirit and resurrection. She began to radiate a somehow comforting cold and to glow like sunlight on a snowdrift.

This time the entrance to the crypt was without mishap. Tugg used the skeleton key to open the massive stone door and they entered through a swirling vortex of blue and magenta light. It took several moments for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. They found themselves in a long dim hallway lit by tallow-pots placed on candelabra imbedded high on walls lined with books every hundred feet or so.

A dozen sets of red eyes from three directions slowly turned and became aware of the intruders. They were huge rat-like creatures, with oriental faces, walking upright about six-foot long from the tip of the nose to the end of each fleshy tail. Each wore a red jacket with gold dragon-head buttons and carried a wicked looking knife half as tall as they were.

“We’re in the #%$^%# library … those are Gallants!” David gasped.

“Tina!” the Sheriff said. “Use your distraction weapon and see if you can draw one or two towards us.”

Tina muttered “weapon?” under her breath and then blew on the New Year’s Eve noisemaker. A long tube made of paper extended a foot from her face and made a sound like a drunken quacking duck. Three of the Gallants immediately screamed and rushed toward her.

The Sheriff and Tugg jumped between Tina and the charging enemies slashing with sword and axe while David stood back and let fly his arrows.

Two of the guards went down quickly. The last was a champion named Magnaphem. He had The Sheriff’s silver aura beaten to a dark grey before Tugg rushed to his aide and dispatched him with several strokes of his axe. “#%$^%# cool!” David laughed standing over a crumpled body. “I must have shot forty arrows and they’re all coming back.” The group watched as arrows began to re-appear in David’s quiver.

It took more than an hour to move through the library. The vast caverns filled with books contained small alcoves every so often that contained small pockets of Monks and Diviners plus groups of vicious guards that looked like Indian bears roaming the halls. Tina heard a growling sound coming from a small alcove. “I think we’re coming to the end,” she said.

Six horse-sized hounds, three on each of two chain leashes jerked a twisted old man wearing railroad coveralls from a doorway. Two rows of dripping fangs, each razor-like tooth at least six-inches long, gleamed from each struggling beast in the lamp light.

A cruel frowning mouth filled with rotted teeth omitted a green glow and radiated a vile rotting-cabbage stench as the man spit on the ground and then spoke. “You are visiting the library after hours,” he whispered, “… the penalty is death.”

“#%$^%# damn! It’s the Hound master!” David gasped.

-------3-------

            The man with the cruel mouth released all six dogs and they lunged forward. Tina stepped out of the way and blew her noisemaker but the beasts would not be distracted. The Sheriff’s sword tangled in a mass of scrambling legs and gnashing teeth as one of the dogs pounced on him. David was just taking an arrow from his quiver, when a hound launched itself through the air and bit his bow in half just above the hand-rest. Tony and Tugg were each trying to fight two of the beasts at once and they looked like small whirlwinds of gnashing teeth and flying fur.

Tina screamed as the colored auras around the players began to dim and then go out. She had only run twenty yards down the hall when the two remaining dogs brought her down. Tina’s last memory was of the old man standing over her licking his lips. “Why ain’t you pigs!” he complained. Slobber dripped on her from his rotted mouth. “I have me a hunger for pork.”

Melania was already resurrecting The Sheriff and Tony when Tina appeared back at the guard house. David sat on the stone floor examining his broken bow. “There are two dogs, the old man and Creepas left,” she said. “This is the last time I can bring you back to life.”

“Damn that Hound master!” David cursed. “Why couldn’t that #%$^%# have had sheep on those leashes?”

Melania took another card from her recipe box and rubbed it between her fingers. David’s bow magically repaired itself.

“Stay in a tight group this time,” Melania told them as she looked at her cards. “I sense deception and behind a torn curtain, there is a treasure room that must not be entered.” The five were already running toward the swirling lights of the tomb entrance.

They followed Melania’s instructions and formed a circle as they moved together, with Tina in the center. The Hound master was in the same doorway as before. The two remaining dogs hunched on the floor before their master blood mixing with saliva as it dripped on the stone. This time the old man held a long gleaming knife in each hand. “I’ll cut your ears off,” he swore as he looked at each of them. “To show these mutts how it’s done.”

The dogs charged forward and the old man showed surprising agility as he leaped over them and attacked from behind. Tugg took a nasty cut to his shoulder before one of David’s arrows went through the old man’s neck.

The remaining dogs proved to be especially vicious. Their jaws still kept biting even when they both lay in a bloody heap on the floor. The five players were wounded badly and drank the rest of their vials before their colored auras went out completely.

            “All we have left is to find Cynthia and then get out of here,” Tony said.

            “Creepas must be destroyed,” The Sheriff told them. “If not he’ll just slink back and kill again, perhaps he’ll take Cynthia again just to spite you.”

            ‘This place is huge,” Tugg said. “How will we know where to find her?”

Just then a terrified scream came from the end of a hallway that veered to their left. It was unmistakably the voice of Cynthia Bowles. “This way I think,” Tony said. All five shuddered as they walked toward the sound.

-------4-------

Cynthia lay tied to a flat slab of stone high at the top level of what looked like an ancient altar. A figure wearing a red hooded-robe stood over her with a knife in its boney hand. The thing slid back the hood. It was Creepas. “You’ve brought an audience,” The female undead Rogue hissed looking directly at Tony. “Good! I was hoping you’d bring friends.”

            “Stay back!” Tony told the others as he raised his sword. “This is something I have to do alone!” He charged forward swinging the sword and just as he reached the altar Creepas vanished in a puff of smoke. Sheriff Walker, David, Tina and Tugg were still gaping when the creature appeared behind them. A slash of the blade, now glowing blue, in the air above their heads stunned them all. “Wait right here,” Creepas said to them with a giggle. “I’ll get back to you!”

Tony dropped to the floor and rolled as the creature leaped into the air and pounced on the spot he’d been standing on a split second earlier. As soon as Creepas’s feet touched the stone floor Tony slashed with his sword striking both legs.  The force of the blow dislodged the sword from his hands and it skittered across the stone floor and stopped just below the slab of rock Cynthia lay on. The Rogue screamed and began to leap like a frog as she hobbled away. The magic spell that held the others frozen was beginning to fade. David’s arms became unfrozen and he fitted an arrow into his bow and let it fly. Creepas shrieked as an arrow passed through her neck. She whirled-around in mid-air and charged toward the group, her blade flashing as if in a whirlwind. “A little Slice and Dice?” Creepas screamed. “… and lunch is served for all.”

The Rogue was too fast with too much agility. The group’s life-force auras were already beginning to fade to nothing. They were still mostly frozen and helpless. A moment later they lay in a helpless pile on the floor only moments away from death. “I should finish you now … but I want you to watch this before you die,” Creepas hissed. She slowly stalked toward Tony who was crawling toward his sword.

Creepas stomped on Tony’s hand and then used the other foot to kick-away the weapon. “This is all your fault,” she smiled at him and hissed. “I was just picking some flowers when you struck me down.”

Her bony fingers forced Cynthia’s chin upward exposing the white flesh of her neck. The gleaming knife was poised in her left hand. “I love to pick flowers and you destroyed that … now I’m going to destroy what you love!” She turned and stared at the helpless party members. “But not right away …” She ran a bony finger across the knife-blade drawing a dark bead of blood like old ink. “This weapon is coated with a special poison that will take almost an hour to kill its victim,’ she said, “We’ll all have a little party while we wait.”

A wailing cry as loud as a freight train came from the hallway and grew louder at an amazing pace. Melania burst into the room holding the Ombré box high above her head with one hand and a card with the other. The white aura that surrounded her was now as bright as the sun. “I am out of the power to heal and resurrect,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I am without fight.”

Purple beams of arcane power flew from the card and enveloped them both as they fought. Melania fell rolling to the floor with the struggling Rogue on top of her. Creepas tried to force the blade downward only inches from her throat but was weakening. Finally Melania was able to push the creature off and then stand.

Creepas lay in a heap on the floor as her breathing slowly began to falter. Just as the others were coming unfrozen … she lurched once more and then her breathing stopped completely.

The entire chamber began to shudder as if from the beginning of an earthquake.

 “#%$^%# … I thought for a minute we weren’t going to make it!” David blurted as he ran forward. Bits of stone and dust began to fall from the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” The sheriff was staring at Melania. She looked suddenly too pale.

Melania’s eyes shifted downward to where The Rogue’s dagger point lay imbedded in her ankle.

A tiny trickle of blood was already beginning to pool on the floor.

            “We’ve got to get you to a doctor,” the Sheriff said.

            “No doctor,” Melania told him. “Allison will know what to do!”

Tony untied Cynthia and then helped the Sheriff carry Melania and they started toward the entrance. “Where is David?” Tina looked around as a wall to her left collapsed scattering hundreds of books across the floor.

            “I’ve found it!” David’s voice sounded from behind the altar. He had pulled back a red curtain and a large wooden door stood open. “The treasure of Thalnos!” Open chests filled with coins and other golden objects gleamed in the lamp light.

            “We have to leave now!” Tony yelled to his best friend as they staggered toward the door, “this whole place is coming down!”

            “%#$# that!” David called back. “I didn’t do all of this just to leave empty handed!” Tony turned and started back for him, but Tina pulled him back. “We have to get Melania back or she’ll die,” she said.

Tony thought he could hear laughter coming from deep inside the tomb of Thalnos just as they carried Melania and Cynthia through the doorway. A moment later the entire structure crumbled into a pile of dust and cut stone.

Lenard was standing beside the Buick Roadmaster with the motor running and all the doors open when they arrived. He was licking his fingers and smoothing his almost invisible whiskers. “Take this lady to her home,” the Sheriff said. “And don’t worry about breaking the speed limit.”

“I never do,” Lenard’s voice sounded like a purr.

The full moon floating above Motha Forest spotlighted the ancient car as it roared through the mountains headed for Cloverdale. Tony turned and looked back just once as they left the tree-line. Cynthia leaned over and kissed him.  “What a night,” he said.

THE END?

Author's note ~ I recently started playing "World of Warcraft" on the "Nostalrius Begins" realm ... along with more than 14,000 other players and my son after he returned early from an LDS Mission to the Philippines due to an illness ... my favorite character is a level 36 Undead Rogue ... "her" name is of course ... "Creepas."

           

           

CREEPAS part 2

Copyright (c) 2016 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

CREEPAS

Part 2

The Scarlet Monastery

By R. Peterson

Sheriff Walker and Tony Lemon climbed the intricate inlaid stone pathway and stairs that led to the mansion’s entrance. The once elaborate and pristine landscaping, once filled with exotic flora from all over the world, had withered and yellowed over the decades. A massive ironwood exterior-door, surrounded by carved beams and moss-covered stone, had no doorknob just a heavy cast-iron gargoyle knocker that looked ready to bite-off someone’s fingers.

The Sheriff motioned for Tony to use it, and when Tony hesitated, the Sheriff smiled and banged it loudly three times. The twenties-something lady who opened the door a minute later, was pretty and far from looking like the oldest woman in the world. Tony gaped at a glowing gold medallion with strange markings dangling between her ample cleavage.

“I’m Sheriff John Walker and this is Tony Lancer. We’d like to speak with Mrs. Descombey if that’s possible,” the Sheriff lightly thumped Tony’s head, “is she at home?”

“Of course,” The woman smiled. “Melania has been expecting you. My name is Alison Weatherbee;  I’m her in-home caretaker and apprendista.”

Allison led them down a long hallway overflowing with framed portraits of cats. Many were exquisite oil-paintings. Tony recognized several famous artist’s signatures: Georges-Pierre Seurat and  Pierre-Auguste Renoir from an art appreciation class taken  his Sophomore year at Cloverdale High School, along with others. “These must have cost a fortune,” he gasped.

“Actually they were all gifts,” Allison said with a wink. “Melania has hundreds of friends from this century … and even more from the last.”

Melania Descombey’s thin frame  was sunk deep in a French-wing armchair in one corner of a very-large library. She was gently stroking a mangy, half-starved cat that looked like it might have just crawled out of an alley after a garbage truck ran over its tail. The Sheriff seemed relaxed, but Tony was a bundle of nerves.

                “I see you love cats,” Tony blurted. “Is this your only pet … or do you have more?”

Melania laughed and shook her head. “Lenard is not my pet … he’s my chauffeur.” She sat the cat down before she continued. “I pay him and the other servants every Friday and this one has a bad habit of squandering his money in saloons and bawdy houses. Every Sunday morning I have to send one of my other employees searching the town for him.”

                “I don’t seem to recall issuing a driver’s license to a gray tabby with a bent tail,” the Sheriff snickered.

Melania smiled back and lifted a document from the table next to her and gave it to him. “You should,” she said. “You road-tested him and signed the motor-vehicle chauffer’s permit yourself.”

The photo on the license showed a graying man in his late sixties with a crooked smile and unkempt wooly hair. The name above the signature, read Lenard M. Walton.

“But enough about me and my family,” Melania continued. “We have some real troubles in our town don’t we Sheriff?”

                “I thought the murder of the vagrant last year was a one- time horror,” the Sheriff said. “Now we have two brutal killings and a missing girl … and it’s only Tuesday.”

                “You can’t run away from a fight,” Melania turned and spoke directly to Tony. “Some people in this World, and non-human things in other worlds, just won’t let you walk away.”

Tony could somehow tell by looking in the old-woman’s eyes that she knew everything about him without him saying a word. “It was just a game,” he stammered. “I’ll sell my computer, I’ll never play again … I just want this to stop!”

                “Creepas is no longer in her cyber-word … she’s in ours,” Melania said. She stood and used a wooden cane with the top carved like a bear to shuffle toward a door sunk into the bookcases. “It’s a pity about what happened to your dog and to Mr. Lewis but at least that pixilated demon is in our world now and not in her own.” Melania removed a coat from the closet and Sheriff Walker helped her slide it over her boney shoulders. “ There she has the advantage… here in this fair town … we do.”

                “But how can I fight an undead monster Rogue in real life?” Tony gasped.

                “You’re a good player,” Melania said. “Level sixty I believe. You should be an equal match for our murderous non-living slasher.”

                “But that’s a video game,” Tony stammered. “This is different!”

                “William Shakespeare said … All the world’s a game and the people merely players,” Melania told Tony with a sly grin.

                “I believe what the Bard said was … All the world’s a stage …” Tony corrected her.

                “Don’t tell me what I heard,” Melania was indignant. “I was with Billy yesterday  morning inside his house in Stratford-upon-Avon near London. He was playing Final Fantasy part-two on a Dell laptop and winning. You can’t expect him to huddle in some British library re-writing all those dusty plays forever can you?”

                A gray-haired man, slightly hunched over, and with bloodshot eyes, entered the room. “Your car is warmed-up and ready for travel,” he informed Melania.

                “Thank you Lenard,” Melania replied. She smiled and looked at the Sheriff and Tony. “It’s getting late … we must be on our way.”

                “Would it be too much to ask what exactly what is our destination.” The Sheriff gently took her arm as she followed Lenard.

                “It has to be the Scarlet Monastery,” Melania said. “Wasn’t that your destination when all of this started?”

                “I guess so,” Tony stammered. “But I didn’t consider going into that place alone. It takes five players to do an instance.”

                “Then we’ll stop and pick up two more on the way.” Melania stared at the setting sun. “It will be dark soon. We’ll have to enter the dungeon while we can still see.”

                “Where exactly is this world’s version of the Scarlett Monastery,” the Sheriff asked.

                “High on the side of Bear Mountain inside Motha Forest,” Melania told him. “It was called the Crimson Robe of Christ refuge when father Joseph Blanche and his monks lived there about one-hundred sixty years ago … but it’s close enough to mirror Tony’s game in our world.

Melania’s driver stood next to an idling  1949 Roadmaster in immaculate condition. Colored lights inside the trademark Buick Venti-ports were wired to flash on and off with the distributor and made the automobile resemble a World War II Spitfire. Both back doors were open. Sheriff Walker helped the old woman settle into the large rear-seat with the bear-cane across her lap while Tony walked around to the other side.

Lenard had a fit of coughing just before he slid behind the steering-wheel.  He ground the transmission gears, and the antique car roared away. Tony wasn’t surprised to look out the side window and see a large fur-ball lying on the cobble-stone driveway where the slovenly chauffeur had stood.

-------2-------

                Tony had two friends he played online with regularly. Most instances took a five-man team and they usually picked up the two others in-game.  It took five minutes of ringing the bell to get David Wickham to answer the door. “I almost had a group put-together for Dire Maul,” he complained. “Everyone’s looking for a #&^%@& tank. Sometimes I think I’m the only warrior on this realm.”

                “We’re going someplace a lot more unique ,”Tony said as he dragged his cursing friend out to the Roadmaster, “…and a lot more dangerous.”

Sheriff Walker recognized David when he climbed in the front seat next to Lenard. “Hey, aren’t you the punk we caught jamming wads of bubble-gum into the parking-meter coin slots?”

                “#&^% … that was over a year ago,” David said. “I’ve #&^%@& grown-up since then.”

                “Are all your adjectives swear-words?” the Sheriff shook his head.

                “What’s a #&^%@&# adjective?” David looked bewildered.

The next stop was in front of a ramshackle trailer-house where an obese boy, with an army of pimples waging war on his face, was pushing a squealing girl on a tricycle across a weed-infested lawn. “Hey Tugg,” Tony yelled. “You want to do a real-life dungeon tonight.”

                “I can’t,” Tugg gaped at the antique Buick shooting fire from the port holes and then smiled. “Mom and Jim are drinking-up mom’s welfare check down at the Four Bullets Bar. I promised them I’d watch Tina.”

                “Tugg is our Hunter … a puller,” Tony said. “He gets the enemies to come to us one-at-a –time so we don’t get blitzed. I don’t think we can do this so-called dungeon without him.”

Melania was looking through a handful of very-old Tarot cards taken from a wooden recipe box with the word Ombré and other things carved on the front. “Bring the sister along,” she called as she held one of the cards up to the fading light. “She likes to play games doesn’t she?”

                “I change the password on my computer at least twice a week,” Tugg said, “and she still gets in and plays all my characters.”

                “How old are you, Tina?” Melania pulled the tiny girl onto her lap, when they all crowded into the old car.

                “I’m five,” she said, “but my Druid can turn into a cat.”

                “Is it a nice cat?” Melania asked her.

                “No it kicks ass, and bites people!” Tina made her face into a scowl. “So watch out!”

Sheriff Walker and Melania both laughed. Tony, David and Tugg were busy doing up their seat belts as Lenard took the Buick up to ninety along a cliff-lined winding-road heading into the mountains. Lenard opened his window and his mouth and let out a prolonged yowl that reminded Tony of the dark furry shapes on their back fence at home, that his sleepy father sometimes threw shoes at on hot summer nights.

-------3-------

The Crimson Robe of Christ refuge looked like it had been carved into the solid granite of the mountainside. Long-dead but still standing Lodge-pole pine trees, stood like forgotten sentinels around a twisting path that led to the entrance. “I believe we’ll find weapons just inside the gate-keepers house,” Melania said. “The monks who lived and died in this place had to protect themselves from Indian attacks and roving bands of ex-confederate soldiers.” She pressed a button on the Buick’s dashboard and instructed Sheriff Walker to open the trunk.

The Sheriff lifted-out a very old wooden box containing what looked like stacks of white linen. “These are Mormon Priest garments meant to protect the faithful from harm,” she said as she hobbled around the car with her cane. “The Mormon’s Nauvoo Temple  was burned on the night of October 8th. 1848. My mother was camped nearby in a wagon and was awakened by the smoke and the shouting. She saw a smoldering man carry this box from the flames and then collapse at her feet. She sensed the magic in the holy garments and kept them.” Melania looked at the gaping four males and smiled. “These will do for our instance armor!”

                                “I don’t know about any of you,” David said. “But no way am I wearing any #&^%@&# Mormon underwear.”

                                “Suit yourself,” Melania said as she and the others, even Tina, slipped on the white garments. “But you won’t survive long without them.”

                “I don’t see how some #&^%@&# underwear is going to protect anyone,” David grumbled as he reluctantly slid a white top over his Siouxsie & The Banshees t-shirt.

                “The Latter Day Saint women who crafted these garments had great faith,” Melania said. “Enough so to protect even a fowl-mouthed non-believer like you … should you somehow be found worthy.”

The group of six started along the path toward the entry gate and a rocked-in structure that must have, at one-time, been a guard-house. “The weapons we need should be inside this hut,” Melania said. “But be cautious. There might still be remnants of the Crimson Robe of Christ hanging around.”

                “Not #&^%@&# likely,” David sneered. “No one ever gets to be over one-hundred sixty years old.”

                “Watch your mouth!” Tony slammed his fist into David’s shoulder.

                “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain of profanity,” Tugg was trying to break the tension by imitating the forceful voice from the Wizard of Oz. “David’s big-brother just got out of the Navy and David tries to imitate his delightful speech.”

“Joseph Blanche had a devoted following,” Melania said ignoring all three boys. “It’s possible that some of his monk’s descendants are still protecting his dominion.”

“What exactly happened to this place; why was it abandoned?” Sheriff Walker was sweeping the overgrown path with his flashlight.

“Joseph Blanche was assigned by the Catholic Church to convert the native Indians to Christianity,” Melania said. Her voice suddenly became a whisper as they ducked under a thorny Russian Olive branch growing over the path. She stopped to examine a bleeding scratch on her arm. “He oversaw the construction of this abbey and after it was completed, sent for his devout mother and sister to join him in his glorious service God.”

“Things go all-right until #&^%@&# women come on the scene,” David snickered.

Sheriff Walker looked at the boy and shook his head.

                “Mrs. Blanche and her daughter never made it to the Monastery,” Melania continued. “Tugg, better cover your sister’s ears. After the boy obliged fighting with a struggling sister, Melania went on. “Their wagon-train was massacred by a hostile band of crow Indians under Chief Burns His Hand. The women were especially brutalized, the fortunate were skinned-alive and lashed to cactus plants … the others met a much more hideous fate.”

                “It was a test of   Joseph Blanche’s power to forgive,” Tony suggested.

                “If it was … he failed,” Melania said. “Joseph Blanche used this domain as a place of retribution.” She shook her head in sadness. “He began by secretly torturing Indians, even innocent women and children. It became a refuge of evil. After a decade, he’d spread his calling to the judgment of whites, especially Mormons and others he deemed had lost God’s favor.”

                “I’ll bet that made him popular with the early settlers back when Cloverdale was called South Fork.” Tugg said sarcastically as his bulging eyes scanned the darkness.

                “Sadly, it did for many,” Melania said. “Fear makes people do horrible things. Joseph Blanche’s followers actually expanded, although many held absolutely no Christian ideals and some that might be called Satanic.”

--------6-------

They were nearing the stone guard-house. Melania put a finger to her lips and motioned for everyone to continue in silence. The closer they got, the more they noticed the building seemed to have been abandoned for years. A heavy-plank door stood half-open. Dry Kali tragus (Russian Thistle) and other trapped tumbleweeds, clogged the doorway.

                “Wow! You #&^%@&# had me going for a minute,” David said as she kicked away the weeds and forced open the door. “See nobody home!”

Tina screamed.

The dark figure who leaped from the shadows was at least seven foot tall, wore a dark hooded robe  and was brandishing what looked like a large sword. Sheriff Walker grabbed David and forced him to duck , just as a razor-sharp blade swept across his scalp leaving less than a quarter inch of hair on his head. Two other sets of fanatical eyes sprang upward in the dark guardhouse and raced toward them. The Sheriff rolled with David and began to draw his service revolver with a lightning speed  that would have impressed even his famous lawman ancestor Thomas Lang, but the towering brute kicked it from his grasp with surprising ease. The Sheriff and David were pressed against the splintered door and couldn’t move. The man raised the saber high over his head and was about to cut Sheriff Walker and David in half when a fiery blast roared from behind. Two more shots followed in rapid succession dropping the two other guards who also fell against the door. All four men stared at the smoking gun in the old woman’s hand.

                “My mother Jesska used to say there is magic in everything,” Melania said, “and I’m sure that includes a Colt Peacemaker.”

                “What the hell are these things?” Tony took the Sheriff’s flashlight and shown it on their attackers. Rotted skin and dark stringy hair clung to one half of the bodies the other half was nothing but moss- crusted bone laced with plant roots as if the figures had lain half-covered by dirt for a century.

“These men obviously made a sacrosanct covenant to guard this entrance for eternity,” Melania told the group. “A promise of that type must be fulfilled … even after death.”

At the back of the room they found a large wooden chest complete with iron bands and a rusted lock that looked as if it might weigh ten pounds. “It may take some time to open this,” The Sheriff said as he tried to pry away the hasp with his belt buckle.

                “Search the guard’s pockets for a key,” Melania told them as she extracted one of the Tarot cards from her recipe box, stepped into the doorway and held it up to the light from a rising moon. Beyond the entry gate, an ancient graveyard surrounded the Monastery.  An aged and yellowed fortune card showed a traveler with all his belongings tied to a stick and about to walk off a cliff. “There may be more than one key.” Melania added.

                Tony tried to turn over one of the bodies which broke in half spewing a vile yellow liquid that reeked like rotting cabbages and caused him to stumble into a corner and vomit. David picked up a squirming Tina and held her in his arms as if she was now suddenly his responsibility.

Tugg shrugged his shoulders, held his nose and thrust his hand into the slime. After some minutes of gagging he pulled two large skeleton keys and another object from the goo. “What’s this?” he asked Melania as he handed her what looked like a bird-in-flight carved from white ivory.

                “This was placed here for me,” Melania said. She was already attaching the figure to her cane in place of the bear. “It looks as if I am to stay here and be your Spirit Healer. You five must enter into the instance without me.”

                “Then when we die you can resurrect us,” David was almost laughing, “and I thought this was going to be #&^%@&# hard.”

Melania took another card from the recipe box and again held it up to the moonlight. It was the Three of Cups upside down. “I can bring you back to life twice,” Melania told them. “On the third time, death becomes irretrievable.”

                “But we will win won’t we?” Tony stepped forward. “Whatever has taken Cynthia will be destroyed and she will be returned to our world …. right?”

                “Outcomes are not meant to be discerned,” Melania told him. “To do so … binds us to their fate.”

                “But I have to know that everything will work out,” Tony pleaded. “I can’t go on without knowing.”

                “Very well but this is beyond my judgment,” Melania said. She extracted another card from the recipe box and was holding it up to the moonlight when Tina’s frantic scream made it slip from her fingers. Everyone looked in the direction the girl was pointing.

                A hunched bony figure with long stringy dark hair was leaping over headstones and dragging a terrified girl across the dead grass. That’s Cynthia,” Tony gasped. He started to chase after them, but Sheriff Walker held him back. They watched as a stone door opened and Creepas and the girl disappeared down a dark stairway inside a moss-covered crypt. Seconds later the door closed with a low boom.

Tugg had the chest open and was extracting a sword, an axe, a long-bow with a quiver of arrows and what looked like a New Year’s Eve noisemaker.

                “Four serious fighters and a distraction,” Tony said with jubilation. “This will be perfect.”

Melania took the Sheriff’s flashlight from David and was searching the floor of the room for her dropped card. Moments later, she let out a small shriek. A somehow pristine and un-yellowed Death card lay on the stone floor.

                “Is this going to be a #&^%@&# wipeout,” David gaped.

                “It’s difficult to predict,” Melania told them. “One thing is certain. One member of our party will never return to this world.”

To be continued ….