Mikkel still shook his head and disavowed himself from it, saying this was my project. Dickie was enthusiastic, but he gets enthusiastic about everything after a few drinks. And if it worked, it would pull me out of the horrible slump I was in. It was Mikkel's friend Lem who helped me set it up, being the most computer savvy of all of us. It turned out that most of the major campaign services wouldn't host us, either because of the "monsters don't exist" issue or they had rules against funding people's lives. But we eventually found a place on FundstarterGoGo and I created the campaign. Every campaign needs a title, something quick to catch them so that they read the description and watch your video. Once again, I found this one in a glimmer of inspiration.
Support Your Local Monster Hunter.
Bleed Black
Paulie pulled into the barbecue restaurant, which was actually a small mom and pop place that was two turns off the highway. I had no idea how he knew about it, but he had been there at least once before and liked their food. The building looked like it hadn't had a makeover since the Seventies. The place had a brown, almost wood-colored roof, and the rest of the building was mostly windows and wood paneling. Outside there was a large pole with a big sign above, also in retro Seventies font, red text on a faded white sign. It just said "BAR-B-Q". No name of the place, not even the effort to spell out "barbecue".
The parking lot was dirt and gravel, the entire building backing up to a field of brush. When we pulled up, there were only three cars in the lot, including a beaten up sedan that looked like it might have crawled here to die. Paulie's truck drove over the gravel, wobbling on the uneven ground as we pulled to the left to park. Paulie killed the motor and we went inside.
The inside of the place matched the outside. Old fashioned and vintage looking. There were a few tables, but it was dominated by a big diner-like counter. But rather than being the chrome and brushed metal of the typical wayside diner, this counter was made of solid butcher block wood. On top of that was a white with blue stripes wax paper tablecloth that appeared to be disposable. As we sat down at the bar, the woman behind the counter ripped off two sheets for Paulie and I, placing it in front of us. Barbecue is messy, so I guess this helped with their cleanup.
"What'll it be?" asked the woman. I had a better look at her now that we had sat down. If this place was a mom and pop place, this was definitely mom. She was in her fifties, the lines on her face showing the weathering of the years. She was somewhat overweight, which is comforting in someone who owns a restaurant in my opinion; it shows you they like their food. If I ever ran a restaurant, I'd have to get fat on general principle. She wore an apron that was already stained with wipes of today's barbecue sauce. Her sleeves were rolled up and her hands were clean.
"Ribs, hon," said Paulie. "I'd love some ribs."
"Whole rack or half?" she answered.
"Half for me, half for the kid," answered Paulie. "We'll start there and see where the meal takes us."
She smiled and nodded, writing the order and heading back to tell the cook.
Paulie swiveled on his stool to turn to look out the windows. As he lit a cigarette, he said, "Meat likes this place. He took me here once. He tends to know the best barbecue places, and according to him, Cobalt County has many."
"You're smoking?" I said. "You can't smoke in restaurants."
"Sure I can, kid, aren't you seeing me smoke?" said Paulie.
"It's fine," said the woman from behind us. "If you're from Avalon, then I understand. They have tougher city ordinances over smoking. There's a state one or two, but we don't give a damn. Do you see anyone who might care?"
I scanned the restaurant and realized we were the only customers. With a pleased smile, I pulled out my own cigarette and lit up. "I like this place. What type of ribs are we getting?"
"Pork ribs, only pork ribs," said the woman. "You want beef ribs, you gotta go somewhere else. Pork is what we do here. Well, and a little brisket. But nobody's gonna fault us for brisket."
I liked the woman, Mary, and when the food came out, I liked it too. It was both smoked and in a barbecue sauce, something that I learned was just how it was done in Cobalt County and by extension, the Avalon area as well - since all of Avalon's worthwhile barbecue came from Cobalt County, as Mary explained. After a while of eating and complimenting the place on its food and my ability to smoke while doing so, the cook came out. He was the Pop of this mom and pop. As Mary's husband, he was co-owner. His name was Frank, but I was not going to hold that against him.
Eventually the small talk came around to what we did. Paulie said nothing, just stoically finishing his last rib. But I was comfortable enough with a belly full of food, veins full of nicotine, and enough self confidence returned to me after the collections call that I could be honest.
"I hunt monsters," I said enthusiastically. Of course Paulie did too, but if he wasn't going to out himself, I was going to respect that until he pissed me off.
"Monsters?" said Frank, and an eye glance from him to Mary told me I was losing them.
"Things that hurt people," I said. "Things nobody else won't deal with. Y'know, those unexplained disappearances or weird situations."
"Oh, you're one of those," said Frank. "Like looking for Bigfoot or the White Beast."
I nearly choked on my cigarette over that mention. The White Beast of Avalon was the name of Jabberwock Jack to non-hunters. The White Beast was how Jack had appeared in the area's folklore. Since many of my current troubles came from him, it was a shocking mention. Luckily, Jack was dead - or so I was told.
"No, we're not like that at all," I said. "I could give a damn whether Bigfoot exists or not." I looked over to see if Paulie was going to help, but he was drinking a cup of coffee like no conversation was going on. "I don't wanna go looking for weird creatures, especially if they're not doing anything. But like, if someone is getting hurt, we want to find what's doing it." I glanced at Paulie again and decided I was going to go forward whether he wanted to help or not. "Just tonight there was a dog-like creature that was causing problems near Unglegore. It had to be put down."
There was a pause. "I heard about some trouble up there," said Frank.
"Frank, ask him about the thing out back," said Mary.
"That ain't anything," said Frank.
"But he could -" started Mary.
"It's nothing," said Frank.
"But -" said Mary.
"He's just a kid anyway," said Frank.
"I'm more than a kid," I said. "I really do this professionally." With a smile, I pulled out my business card and put it on the table.
When I decided to do the FundstarterGoGo campaign, I knew I had to go into it fully. As Dickie said, "Go big or go home!" I couldn't half ass it, and I needed to let people know whenever I could. So I looked into cheap alternatives for people who were severely lacking funds. For someone as hands on as myself, the obvious choice was business cards. I could leave them after a job or wherever I thought someone might need my services. It was probably the best card $15 bucks online could get me. First was my name, SZANDOR NOWAK, then MONSTER HUNTER. After that was the link for the FunstarterGoGo campaign, a link to my Matreon[2], then my email address, and finally as a concession to where I've come from, the link to the old website that Mikkel and I have had for years. When I was setting this all up, I realized how old and janky our website looked, but any major changes would need to be approved by Mikkel and Lem, and I figured that a battle not worth fighting. At least I controlled the campaigns.
Mary picked up the business card and showed it to Frank. "He's got a business card, at least. He's not just putting us on."
"But what can he actually do?" said Frank.
"Why don't you tell me about it and I'll see what I can do," I said.
Frank sighed. "It's really not anything. Our home is behind this restaurant, as well as our garage. In the middle of the night, all our dogs start going crazy. They're outside but fenced up, so they can't go running after whatever it is. I do
n't think it's anything."
"But it's been going on for weeks," said Mary. "And tell him about the bobcat."
"I found a dead bobcat," said Frank reluctantly. "I thought maybe that's what was making them crazy. And I still think that's what it was," he said to Mary.
"But then why is the bobcat dead?" said Mary.
Frank shrugged. "We don't know why it died. Animals sometimes just die. It wasn't bloody. I just got rid of it."
"I think there's something weird out there," said Mary. "I don't like putting trash out there anymore."
"Just do it in the morning," said Frank.
"But then the trash sits inside all night and stinks up the place," said Mary. "We need to get it outside at the end of the day."
"So yeah," said Frank, turning back to me. "Like I said, this ain't nothing."
"It could be something," I said. "I mean, that hound in Unglegore was something for sure. Maybe there's more than one or something." I glanced at Paulie who gave a very slight shake of his head, but was otherwise engrossed in drinking his coffee.
"Do you really think it is?" said Frank. "Is that what you investigate?"
"Normally, no," I said. "I'd want a lot more information before I'd go searching. But I'm here already and I'm feeling good after those ribs. Tell you what, let me go out back and see what I can find out. Then I'll come back in and tell you what I think."
"I dunno if we wanna pay for that..." said Frank.
"No charge," I said. "I'm just looking out back."
"I'm not sure..." said Frank.
"Yes," said Mary, putting her hand on Frank's arm. "Yes, please go check it out. Thank you."
I got off my stool and looked over to Paulie. "I'm still finishing my food," he said, making his meaning clear. This was my own initiative and he didn't want a part in it.
I shrugged and left the restaurant, leaving the bright inside for the dark outside. Walking around the building, I saw the sign for the alley and then decided that my FundstarterGoGo campaign needed a new video. Typically, campaigns have a very positive and exciting video that gets people amped up about what you are doing, which helps translate their excitement into money. I had tried doing one of those in front of a wall in my apartment with Dickie holding the camera, but truth be told, it looked really lame and I felt like an idiot. And you can very obviously tell that I felt like a tool doing it. I haven't looked that bad and awkward on camera in a long time. So as I prepared to check out the mysterious goings-on behind the barbecue place, I decided this might be an opportunity to get new video. If I found a monster or did something cool, that would be a far more interesting video for my campaign - it might also tantalize potential backers with what they might get in additional videos.
And so we come back round to where this story started. I introduced myself to camera, then clipped it on me. Behind that barbecue place I heard a noise in a pile of trash bags and found a strange man laying in them. Then his head exploded, showering me with blood, brain, and bone.
Shock paralyzed me for far longer than I'd like to admit. I was unsure of what happened then unsure of why it happened. Then I wondered why it always happened to me. The first real action I had that wasn't mired in confusion or self-pity was to get my phone out. Well, the very first action was that I threw up the ribs I had eaten. It doesn't matter how much blood I had seen before, nothing had prepared me to have a man's head burst at point blank range and then be left standing there wearing a good chunk of the contents of his skull. I got my phone out and called Paulie.
"What's up, kid?"
"I need help," I said feebly.
My voice must have told him that things had gone badly, because instead of making some snarky comment, he just said, "Be right there."
I stood there in the darkness, my arm hanging limply at my side holding my flashlight, its lens half covered in blood and showing a red beam of light on the ground. I had been feeling pretty good after dinner, and now... now I felt like I didn't know what was going on anymore. I was covered in blood. I hadn't even done anything. Without warning or reason, the man's head just exploded!
A flashlight came dancing along the alley and when it got close I finally turned and shined my red light on him. Paulie had his flashlight in his left hand, his right hand on the handle of a wicked knife he carried on his belt, the top of the knife sheath unbuttoned for a quick draw.
"Shit! What happened?" he said as he saw all the blood on me.
"I don't even know!" There was more of a hoarse howl in my voice than I would have liked.
I gave him a quick rundown of what had happened. He asked no questions, but instead Paulie walked over to the headless corpse and examined it.
"Not a ghoul," he said. "No evidence of decay or necrosis. Probably not a zombie." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rubber glove which he put on his hand with a snap. Carefully, he rolled the corpse over so he could examine the back. "Nothing burrowed into its back. Not even a Spider zombie[3]."
"Why did his head explode?" I asked.
"I honestly have no idea," said Paulie. "Not an experience I've had or heard of, kid."
"I need to clean this all off me. It's... it's terrible. Let's go back inside and after that we can ask them about this guy."
"Oh no, oh hell no," said Paulie. "We need to get the fuck out of here. We got a dead body and his blood all over you. If we go back in there and tell them they got a corpse in the back, they're calling the cops. You got fresh blood all over you, so it's not like you found someone already dead. You were there, up close when he died. How's that gonna look to the cops?"
I shook my head; I was still having trouble thinking through the shock. "Not good, I guess."
"Really not good," said Paulie. "What we need to do is get the fuck out of here and fast. Let me think." He paced back and forth. "We need to do this quick before Frank and Mary come see what we're up to. I'm glad I settled up our bill with cash already; there's nothing to trace us to them, just a description. Let's see. I need you to put your jacket over your head. The blood and gore is mostly on your top half. We need it so nobody can see blood all over you. Then I need you to run to my truck and climb into the back. Hide there and I'll drive away."
"Can't I sit up front with you?"
"Covered in that blood? Fuck no," he said. "You're going to both ruin the seats and make it a permanent crime scene. You go in the back until we can get you clean. Fuck. This is going to be some CSI shit. Fuck. Okay, the jacket is good enough for now. Go! Run to the back, and I'll come a minute later, so it looks like you're grabbing something. Fuck."
Following his orders I pulled my jacket over my head and ran for it. When I reached the end of the alley I clicked off my flashlight and went for the truck, kicking up gravel. I didn't spare a glance at the restaurant to see if Frank or Mary was watching. I climbed into the back and went flat, feeling the hard metal of the truck bed. Half a minute later I heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel. The truck's door opened. Then I felt something soft tossed on me.
"It's a towel," said Paulie in a low voice. "Clean up as much as you can while we're driving, then cover yourself. And don't lose the towel! We need to get rid of it properly!"
The engine started, the truck began to rattle, and then I was bumped around the back as he reversed through the gravel. He put it into forward gear and he peeled out as soon as he was on real road, trying to get as far from the restaurant as possible. Laying flat in the back, the blood half cleaned, my head covered, I had no idea where we were going. I used the time to try to get my panic to a manageable level. Getting some of the blood off helped. There's some primal fear that comes over you when you're covered in blood. Your skin just knows and panic sticks to you, as if it soaked into you from the blood. Even a partial cleaning helped me go from a What the Fuck Panic down to a My Life Is Over I'm Going to Jail Fear, before calming to a simple What's Wrong With My Life Anxiety. As the truck rattled along at what felt like a swift pace, I had a lot of time to regret going
into that alley.
Eventually the truck made some turns and then pulled to a halt. I heard Paulie get out and walk around to the back. "You can come out now."
I pulled the towel and the jacket off. We were parked in front of a set of storage garages. I could see the lights of the highway a few blocks away. We were still in Cobalt County, evidenced by the fact that these garages weren't by anything other than roads and a far off gas station.
"I rent one of these," said Paulie, unlocking the garage at one end and pulling up the door. Inside were various boxes, a rack of clothes, and a desk. I recognized weapon crates when I saw them, and there were plenty here. I'm guessing either this was one of Paulie's backup places to run to if things went bad or maybe just some sort of armory. There's some sense in not keeping a large amount of possibly illegal weapons at your home.
"Thank god," I said, as I started to get out of the truck.
"Where the fuck are you going?" he said.
"To go get some clothes?"
"You're still a walking crime scene." Paulie grabbed more towels and put them down on the ground under the truck bed. Then he made a path of them out over to the grass near the garages. "Empty out your pockets in the bed. Then walk on these and only these. Get over onto the grass."
I gently got out of the truck and onto the towels. Some blood dripped onto them, so I saw his point. I still felt awkward and self conscious, something I would have felt even if I wasn't playing a weird game of The Floor is Lava. While I walked to the grass, he pulled a coil of garden hose from the garage and attached it to the faucet on the side of one of the buildings.
Support Your Local Monster Hunter Page 3