Hellboy: Odd Jobs

by Christopher Golden

  Before he could answer, she collapsed into the seat opposite him and leaned forward on the table.

  "My name's Lorraine Martin, from New York City," she said, slurring her words slightly as she held her right hand out for him to shake.

  She cringed when he took her hand into his huge right hand and lightly shook it. His touch was stone cold, and she could feel the terrible power trembling in his grasp. She knew he could easily crush her hand to a pulp without even thinking, but he shook her hand gently and then let it drop.

  "I'm Hellboy," he said, his voice making a deep rumble that reminded her of distant thunder.

  "Are you gonna drink that beer," Lorraine asked, "or did you bring your own in that cooler?"

  "I'm waiting for someone," Hellboy said simply.

  There was a finality in his voice that told her not to pursue it any further, but Lorraine had had enough to drink so she didn't care. She was burning with curiosity to find out who this guy was and what he was doing here.

  "A friend of yours?" she asked.

  "Sort of. Someone I work with," Hellboy replied with a quick nod.

  He looked past her. When Lorraine turned to see what he was staring at, she noticed the small clock above the array of liquor bottles behind the bar.

  It was a quarter to eight.

  "Well, until this friend of yours shows up, what say you buy me a drink?" Lorraine said.

  When she leaned forward and rested her hand lightly on his arm, she couldn't help but notice that Hellboy turned his body ever so slightly, as though shielding the travel cooler from her.

  "What've you got in there that's so important?" she asked, but he didn't answer her. He simply stared at her with a glowering scowl that made it all too clear that he wasn't going to talk about it.

  "So ... are you gonna buy me a drink or not?" Lorraine asked.

  Hellboy looked over at Kyle and said, "Get her a glass of whatever she's drinking."

  Kyle nodded and, without a word, drew a beer and walked over to the table. His face was expressionless as he placed the glass down in front of Lorraine.

  "I have to tell you one thing," Lorraine said once Kyle had retreated back behind the bar. "I don't like drinking alone."

  She clinked her glass against the untouched pitcher in front of Hellboy.

  "What say you join me?"

  When she reached across the table for the pitcher, making as if to pour him a beer, Hellboy snatched it from her and poured into one of the glasses. Holding it out to her, he said, "Here's looking at you." With that, he tipped his head back and drained the glass in several huge gulps.

  Lorraine took a long, slow sip from her beer, all the while watching him in amazement over the rim of her glass.

  Once the glass was empty, Hellboy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and placed the glass on the table. After filling it again from the pitcher, he sat back and drained it a second time.

  "Well, you certainly don't mess around, do you?" Lorraine asked, unable to conceal her amazement.

  "I probably should have something to eat first," Hellboy said. "I haven't eaten all day."

  "So tell me," Lorraine said after a moment of silence. "Who're you meeting? I can tell, just by looking at you, that you're an interesting guy who must do a lot of interesting stuff."

  "I already told you," Hellboy said, his scowl deepening. "It's someone I work with."

  "Well then, will you tell me what kind of work you do?"

  "It's ... kind of complicated," Hellboy said with a dark scowl.

  "Does it have anything to do with what you've got in that cooler? C'mon. Tell me. Whatddaya have in there?"

  "Cold stuff," Hellboy replied, and for a brief instant, the glow in his eyes seemed to intensify.

  Lorraine nodded and sat in silence for another moment. Then she said, "Does this have anything to do with what happened a year ago tonight?"

  Hellboy's scowl deepened. The two beers seemed to have gone straight to his head, and he shook it to clear it, then looked at Lorraine and nodded.

  "Matter of fact, it does," he said. "I'm waiting to meet up with my friend. A guy called 'The Finn'. Our friend, Red Shirt, died a year ago tonight. We're meeting here to raise a glass to his memory."

  "Or a pitcher," Lorraine said with a slight laugh.

  "Yeah. Maybe a pitcher," Hellboy said as he grasped the near-empty pitcher and raised it above his head to let Kyle know that he wanted a refill.

  While they waited for the fresh pitcher to arrive, Hellboy refilled his own and Lorraine's glasses. Lorraine settled back in her seat and took a deep breath, taking it all in. One thing she couldn't help but notice was the sour stench that emanated from either whatever Hellboy had in the cooler, or else from Hellboy himself.

  Maybe he didn't smell so good after being out in the rain, she thought.

  Kyle arrived with the full pitcher, placed it on the table in front of Hellboy, and walked away. He had caught only a few snatches of their conversation but, knowing what he knew about the events that had transpired this time last year, he didn't want to know any more.

  "So," Lorraine finally said, unable to hide her interest, "are you gonna tell me how your friend Red Shirt died? Or am I gonna have to get you drunk first, and pry it out of you?"

  Hellboy shook his head and then belched loudly. This got a reaction from the Farrow brothers, both of whom turned in their seats and glared over at the table.

  Once again, it was Tommy who spoke.

  "Hey, you wanna keep it down over there?" he shouted. "This isn't a fucking barn, you know."

  Lorraine saw the orange glow in Hellboy's eyes flare up as he stared back at the two brothers.

  "You might want to watch your language with a lady present," Hellboy said. Then he sucked in a deep breath and belched again, louder.

  "Lady?" Tommy said, gawking back and forth like a chicken, looking for grain. Then he crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. "I don't see no lady here. All's I see is a drunk slut Flatlander and some kinda freak that looks like he escaped from the circus."

  Sensing trouble, Kyle quickly stepped over to Tommy and got his attention.

  "Chill out," he said under his breath, "or I'll have to ask you to leave. Trust me. You don't want to mess with him."

  After catching the scathing look from his older brother, Tommy turned back and continued drinking in silence.

  "Ahh, forget about them," Lorraine said with a dismissive flick of her hand. "They're just a couple of dumb-shit rednecks. Tell me about your friend Red Shirt. How'd he die?"

  Covering his mouth with his huge right fist, Hellboy belched again, softly this time, as he settled back in the seat. The cushion groaned beneath his weight.

  "It's kind of complicated," he said.

  When he spoke, Lorraine noticed a faraway look in his eye. She glanced at the rain washing down the window beside them and said softly, "I ain't going anyplace in a hurry."

  "Well," Hellboy said, "The Finn will be here pretty soon, but I guess I can tell you about it. You see, about a year and a half ago, this town had a problem with a serial killer, a man named Moses McCrory. He'd killed something like nine women

  some of em young girls, really, before the cops finally ran him down."

  "So he's in jail?"

  One corner of Hellboy's mouth twitched. "No," he said. "The police shot and killed him." He paused to take a single gulp of beer. "That's when the real trouble started."

  Lorraine squinted at him and shook her head. It crossed her mind that this whole episode was beyond strange.

  Here she was, sitting in a bar in a town she'd never been to and never intended to visit again, talking about a serial killer with a big red guy with a stone fist and bumps that looked like sawed-off horns on his forehead.

  For all she knew, he could be the dangerous killer, and he was setting her up as his next victim. But she couldn't deny that she was fascinated. She had to find out more.

  "I don't get it," she said. "If they killed hi
m, then that should have ended it unless Oh, wait a second. I get

  it. He wasn't the real killer, right?"

  "Oh, he was the real killer all right. He strangled his victims with a piece of piano wire that pretty much took their heads off. But shortly after they killed him, more people started dying, only this time in much more gruesome ways."

  "I know what it was," Lorraine said, snapping her fingers and jumping excitedly in her seat. "I saw a show about this once on A&E. They had what they call a 'copycat' killer, right? Someone who started imitating the first killer."

  Hellboy shook his head, then reached for the pitcher of beer and refilled his glass.

  "Not exactly. You see, I only get called into things when they get really weird."

  "And this got really weird?" Lorraine said. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat and glanced over at Kyle, slightly reassured by his presence.

  Hellboy nodded and then, with a what-the-hell shrug, finished off his beer.

  "Once the killings started again, the local police couldn't handle it," he said, "so they called in the State CID."

  "CID?"

  "The Criminal Investigative Division. They pieced together a few things, like how the victims were killed, and that the killings only happened on rainy nights, but the staties couldn't handle it, either. These recent killings were really bad."

  "How so?"

  "The victims were all beheaded. That's how they died. Only this time, the killer strangled them with a length of barbed wire, and he pulled it so tight their heads came right off."

  "Oh my God," Lorraine said, shuddering and hugging herself as a slow chill ran through her. She suddenly felt alone and very vulnerable.

  "Yeah," Hellboy said, "and then he'd stuff their open necks with straw. Also, all of the victims were missing body parts ... arms, legs, internal organs ... different parts from each victim. That's when they called me, and I brought along my friends, The Finn and Red Shirt."

  "Well then," Lorraine said, taking a deep breath and slumping back in her seat. For a while, she'd forgotten all about her glass of beer but now her throat was parched, and she picked it up and took a quick sip. "If you're waiting for The Finn, like you said, then it must've been Red Shirt who died, right?"

  "Kind of a no-brainer," Hellboy said. "Yeah. It was Red Shirt who died."

  "Was he an Indian? His name sounds like it's Indian."

  Hellboy sniffed with laughter as he raised the pitcher above his head, signaling for Kyle that he was ready for a refill.

  "You know, you're a regular Sherlock Holmes," Hellboy said. "Yeah, Red Shirt was a Native American and, as it turned out, I needed him to help me figure out what had happened to Moses."

  "Wait a second," Lorraine said. "I thought you said Moses was shot and killed by the police."

  "He was," Hellboy said, barely acknowledging Kyle when he came over to the table and replaced the empty pitcher with a full one. "It took us a while to piece it all together, but you see, the cops found Moses in a corn field when they tracked him down. When they shot and killed him, he was right beside an old scarecrow the farmer had left in the field."

  Hellboy paused, and in that brief moment of silence, he eyed the full pitcher of beer. His head was spinning from what he had already had to drink, but he refilled his glass again from the pitcher and took a few gulps.

  He was just replacing his half-empty glass on the table when Tommy spoke up.

  "Christ, you see that, Jed? He drinks like a fuckin' animal!"

  Hellboy shifted forward in his seat, as if to get up, but before he did, Kyle stepped over to the two Farrow brothers.

  "I'm gonna have to ask you fellas to leave," he said in a low, controlled voice. "I don't want no trouble here tonight."

  "I ain't causin' any trouble," Tommy said, his voice winding up higher. "He's the one who's causin' trouble.

  Why do you even serve a goddamned freak like that?"

  "All right. That's it," Kyle said, scooping away Tommy's and Jed's glasses and pointing at the door. "You fellas will be welcome here tomorrow night provided you learn yourselves some manners 'tween now and then."

  "What the fuck?" Jed said. "I didn't do nothin'. I was just sittin' here drinkin' and mindin' my own business."

  "Go on! Get out!" Kyle said, his voice stern and cold. "The both of yah get home before you get into more trouble that you can handle."

  "I can handle anything that freak's got to dish out," Tommy said, his body stiffening as he cast a challenging glance at Hellboy. But Jed prodded his brother to silence with a sharp jab to the ribs.

  Lorraine couldn't help but smile as she watched the two rednecks make their way to the door, looking like a couple of schoolboys who had been scolded.

  "Have a nice night," she called out as Jed swung the door open, and both of them stepped out into the storm.

  "Pardon me a minute," Hellboy said as he shifted out of the booth and stood up. "I have some business to attend to. I'll be right back."

  Lorraine was amazed by the size of him when he stood up, but she tried not to let it show. Smiling, she said,

  "Well, considering how much beer you've put away, it's no wonder."

  She didn't bother to turn and watch him walk away. Instead, her eyes shifted to the cooler he'd left behind on the table. She was dying to know what was inside it. This Hellboy, whoever he was, sure was a strange one, so whatever was in that cooler was probably something just as strange as him.

  Lorraine chuckled to herself when she thought how surprised and disappointed she'd be if she opened up the cooler and found a picnic lunch with sandwich, soda, and chips.

  But

  no. Hellboy had said he hadn't eaten all day, so it probably wasn't food in there.

  So what could it be?

  Leaning across the table, Lorraine sniffed the air. The thick, rotting aroma still lingered and almost made her gag.

  Was there a fish in there? she wondered. Maybe Hellboy had been up north fishing, and this was his prized catch.

  After a quick glance behind her to make sure Hellboy wasn't on his way back from the rest room yet, she reached out for the cooler with one hand. She noticed that her hand was trembling as she touched the cool, still-damp plastic. The barroom seemed suddenly dense with quiet anticipation as she ran her fingers down to the latch and slowly began to apply pressure to release it.

  "I wouldn't do that if I was you."

  The voice, speaking so suddenly behind her, made her jump. She jerked back and dropped both hands below the table as she spun around and saw Kyle, watching her from behind the bar.

  "Trust me. Hellboy's not the kind of guy you want to mess around with," Kyle added.

  As if on cue, the front door of the bar opened, and Hellboy strode back inside. His trench coat was drenched through, and his muddy hooves made loud, wet sounds as he walked back over to the table.

  "Why'd you go outside? I thought you had to go to the bathroom?" Lorraine asked, her heart fluttering in her chest.

  "Just had to check on something," Hellboy said simply as he wiped the water from his face. He sat down and took a healthy swallow of beer. He indicated Lorraine's all-but-forgotten glass of beer and added, "Come on.

  Drink up."

  Lorraine's throat was so constricted she could barely swallow as she took a tiny sip of her beer. It had just about gone flat, but she didn't care. After taking a moment to collect herself, she said, "So you were saying ...

  "

  "Where was I?" Hellboy said.

  "You were telling me how, when they killed Moses McCrory, he was in a corn field, next to a scarecrow."

  "Yeah

  right," Hellboy said. "Well, you see, in some primitive beliefs, it's birds usually crows, but

  sometimes other birds

  that usher the spirit of the recently deceased into the afterlife. If that's true, then

  "

  Lorraine interrupted him with a snap of her fingers.

  "

&n
bsp; Then Moses' spirit wouldn't have been taken because the scarecrow would have scared away the crows."

  Hellboy nodded slowly. "You got it. It took me a bit longer to piece it all together, but you have to remember, we were in the middle of it."

  "So where did Moses' spirit go?" Lorraine asked, feeling a terrible chill creep up her back.

  "Into the scarecrow, of course," Hellboy said simply.

  Before he could say more, and before Lorraine could ask him to explain that, the bar door suddenly flung open so hard it slammed against the wall with a resounding bang. Lorraine's first thought was that the Farrow brothers had returned, maybe with guns or knives to settle their score with Hellboy. She turned around quickly, surprised to see a tall, thin man framed by the doorway.

  He was hatless, and the rain had plastered his thinning, blond hair in dark squiggles against his skull. His face was pale, almost bone white. The dim light in the barroom glanced off his high forehead and the angular planes of his cheekbones, but the rest of his face

  especially his eyes and mouth

  seemed to be in

  shadow, no matter how the lighting shifted as he looked around. Then he started over to the table where Lorraine and Hellboy sat. Without saying a word, he hooked a chair with his foot, swung it around, and sat down with his elbows resting against the back of the chair.

  "I wasn't sure I had the right place," the man said in a low, gruff voice, "until I saw those two guys stretched out unconscious in the parking lot."

  "What

  ?" Lorraine said, and then cut herself off when she realized what Hellboy had done.

  Hellboy's face remained expressionless as he leaned forward and said, "Lorraine, I'd like you to meet The Finn. Finn ... This is Lorraine."

  "Pleased to meet you," The Finn said, but Lorraine couldn't be sure if he was sincere or not because the light from the bar was behind him, and she still couldn't see his face clearly as they briefly shook hands.

  "I was just telling Lorraine, here, about what happened last year," Hellboy said.