The Dark Lord of Oklahoma

by Ethan Richards

  "He has a persona. I'm still scared of him," said Sam.

  "Yeah, so am I. But, something tells me he is not the most unique person we are going to be working with," said Gavan.

  "He seemed frustrated, not by what was mentioned at Picher, but something about Ingalls. Did you notice that?"

  "Just a little," laughed Gavan.

  "He seemed so cool before. Even when he was beating me up, he seemed calm. What could make a cold dude like that lose his cool?"

  Sam stopped talking when Gavan lightly tapped his shoulder, his eyes bulging. Sam looked out in the direction that his preacher stared into. There, stood a figure which was approximately five feet tall and wore a Victorian-era hat with a faded brass band. Underneath the cap, was a bearded-face with eyes covered in thick black goggles. There appeared to be no plastics or petroleum material, and it reminded Sam of the turn-of-the-century objects in a museum.

  The figure's arms were exposed though he had leather wraps on his forearms. He wore green denim tweed pants, and a holster that exposed a wooden handle of pistol that appeared to be a musket, but as they looked closer, the gun had brass chambers that looked like a revolver, and had three barrels, that touched forming the shape of a triangle. On the other leg, it appeared to be another holster, but instead of another weapon, it held various wrenches and other tools. Finally, the figure's boots were brown, but a darker shade than the leather frontier style jacket, and had at least six brass buckles that tightened the leather straps of the boot.

  Over his shoulders, he wore a thick, frontier-style jacket, and a beige leather strap ran across his chest. On the belt was a customized shotgun with large brass rings wrapped across the buttstock. The shotgun’s butt stock had another leather strap which attached to a black, brass ring on his shoulder. The shotgun was shortened to an illegal length; it was so short that even the untrained eye would recognize that it was an illegal length. Sam and Gavan figured that legal matters did not necessarily apply to mythological figures. This figure’s brown beard ran all the way down to his chest. He had a pronounced brow ridge, a flat, broad nose, and when he opened his mouth, he revealed a clean and neat set of gaped teeth. His hands and knuckles were abnormally large. They reminded Gavan of a primate's hands.

  "What the heck is that?" asked Sam.

  "I think that is the headache Asher was warning us about," said Gavan.

  The figure now looked at the two, and his hand rested on the shotgun which hung in the three-point sling against his chest.

  The figure stood silently, staring at the two men as if to say "who the heck are you?"

  "Cries-For-War sent us -" blurted Gavan.

  Gavan abruptly stopped mid-sentence after Sam elbowed him. He looked back at the teenager who nodded with his head in the opposite direction of the Steampunk-stylized figure.

  "There’s two of them?" asked Gavan. "You've got to be kidding."

  “Nope, hahaha,” laughed an apparition of Asher Cries-For-War in Gavan's head.

  The two men looked in the direction Sam pointed to. A tommy gun was pointed towards them. On the buttstock, it had the word "Psychobilly" carved into the wood. The carving was so large Sam could see it from where he stood. After their eyes settled on the submachine gun, they began taking in what they saw. The figure holding the Thompson submachine gun seemed to be the exact height as the other figure.

  The two figures were identical and were only made distinguishable by their contrasting equipment and fashions. He had a tall standing mohawk, like psychobilly artists. He also had visible tattoos on his neck and hands. His ears were gauged with black gauges in the middle. The second brother wore a 1950s style, motorcycle leather jacket with a popped collar. Underneath this jacket was a white shirt with the arms cut out, tattoo had on it the name of band titled "Horrorpops". A band of rounds of sub-machine gun ammunition wrapped around his body, draped from his left shoulder and around his right hip. His blue jeans were rolled up at the bottom, 1950s style.

  "And who in the heck are you?" asked the psychobilly figure.

  "We know Cries-For-War-" said Gavan.

  "What does that mean?" the creature responded.

  "It means," said Sam, "you don't want to make us mad and get on his bad side."

  "You think we can't handle Asher Cries-For-War?"

  "No," said Sam. "Not without getting your pretty jacked up in the process."

  The psychobilly figure stared at Sam, who stared back at him. Gavan, could see two stubborn people staring at each other, with no potential compromise being reached.

  "Wait, wait, wait!" he screamed. "Let's not get anybody killed. Asher respects you. He sent us to you. We are here because of his respect for you."

  "He said that?" said the figure.

  "That's not all he said. But yeah, he said you guys had an arsenal that would make the Swiss green with envy."

  "That doesn't sound like him," he furrowed his primordial-like brows and moved his thick finger from the lower-receiver into the trigger-well.

  "He said you were a douche!" cried Sam.

  The creature looked at Gavan, then took his finger off the trigger, lowered his weapon, and finally threw his stocky head back and laughed.

  "I can accept that," he said and shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm Zorin, and that's my brother Dorin."

  "What the heck have we gotten ourselves into?" Sam asked loudly. "What are you guys, like short gnomes or something?"

  Zorin started to raise his Thompson again, and Gavan waived his arms. “Stop! Stop! Sam, have you never read Tolkien?"

  "What does that have to do with this?"

  "Everything. I think it's pretty obvious who these guys are," said Gavan.

  "Well then," said Sam, "who are they?"

  "I think it's pretty obvious. They’re gun tottin' dwarves."

  ***

  The twin dwarves took Gavan and Sam into their garage. The four discussed their plans and the events that had transpired. Zorin and Dorin were not wholly uninformed of the Witch-Queen but understood the wickedness of Ragnog. After their discussion in the garage, they walked to Sam's car.

  "If there's a chance we're going to die, we aren't going to go out in that," said Zorin.

  "This is my set of wheels, man," said Sam.

  Zorin stood with his arms crossed and his Thompson pushed to his side. He looked up at Sam before looking at his car again. “That explains a lot, boy," he chuckled.

  Sam clenched his fists and flexed his muscles as an act of intimidation.

  "Well, if you're going to hate on my buddy's ride, you better have an alternative," said Gavan.

  "Don't worry, humans. We have a chariot," said Zorin.

  He turned his back to them and walked away. Gavan and Sam looked at each other, both shrugging. Dorin brushed past them both, and then raised his hand and waved them forward. The two men obediently followed.

  They walked from their location into a wooded area. Zorin pulled back brush and severed tree limbs to reveal the body of a vehicle hidden in a car cover. He crept forward underneath the vines and, with both hands, pulled the camo-net back.

  Their eyes lit up as they looked at the vehicle. A smiling Zorin picturesquely stood to the side of the car, with his fists pressed against his hips.

  Instantly they could see the dwarf's pride, and immediately they knew it was justified. Zorin's sweat and hard work had not been in vain. It was a customized rat rod, small in size so a short creature could operate it. Ghost flames ran across the front of the dark, green truck which had a two-row cab and bed in it.

  "Let's get in," said Zorin.

  "We can't fit in there," said Gavan. "You have to pull it out."

  Zorin looked at Gavan before casting a stare at Sam. "I forgot I'm dealing with humans," he sneered.

  The two dwarves crawled into the vehicle, pulled the rat-rod out and parked it in front of Gavan and Sam.

  Sam looked at the truck and smiled. "As insulting as that Zorin dude is, you gotta hand it to him…that look
s awesome."

  Dorin got out of his truck, and came and opened the door for them. Soon, all four were squeezed into the rat-rod and headed down the road.

  CHAPTER 3: I AM PICHER

  Gavan - Picher, Ok

  "Put these on," Zorin handed two black leather bags with faded brass buckles to Sam and Gavan. "You are gonna need these."

  Gavan and Sam tore into the baggage and pulled out the items.

  "Wait, what are you going to do to us?" asked Sam.

  Sam held a leather mask, with rough silver goggles which came down to a cylinder in front of the face.

  "This isn't what you think it is you, pervert," said Gavan. "It's a gas mask."

  "Gas mask?"

  "Yes, we're going into Picher."

  Gavan took his mask out of the bag and slid it onto his face. He reached for the goggles and began adjusting the lenses. The lenses focused in and out.

  "This is awe -"

  Gavan pressed a button and the light in the lens turned green.

  "What is this?"

  "Yes, it has night vision capabilities," said Zorin. "Go ahead and put those on. We're almost in town."

  Sam obediently slid the leather masks on and began adjusting the lenses.

  "Hey," said Sam, in a muffled voice. "Where are your masks?"

  Zorin and Dorin looked at each other and burst into laughter.

  "We're dwarves. A touch of mine-air doesn't intimidate us," said Zorin.

  "Look!" said Sam pointing. "I didn't know there were mountains like that in this part of the state."

  They had now arrived in the ghost town of Picher.

  "Those ain't mountains," said Zorin.

  "They're mountains," said Sam.

  "Not mountains. Chat," said Zorin.

  Sam started to ask more questions but stopped.

  A river of blood ran in the drainage ditch, which was underneath the road. Looking out the window, Sam saw orange soil on either side of the scarlet stagnate stream.

  "What is that?" cried Sam.

  "It's not blood," said Zorin. "It looks like it, but that is Tar Creek."

  Even Zorin and Dorin's mechanical genius could not stop the car from shaking as they drove down the abandoned and decrepit path. Grass stood tall in the middle of the cracks in the road. Further north they drove. From the rural outskirts, they continued moving into the center using the giant water tower as their guide. They saw a giant gorilla statue outside of a park. Ivy covered the entirety of the light poles that were in the town. A tumbleweed rolled in the street.

  "Alright, we got you safely to Picher. We know the area and you know the enemy," said Zorin. "Now, what are we looking for?" asked Zorin.

  "Anything tied to Sasha Ferrell," said Gavan. "Her existence, her childhood, anything. She has managed to stay untraceable, but we know she is from this place."

  "Is anyone from Picher?" asked Sam. "This is a wasteland."

  "Good people used to live here. Heck, back at the turn of the century, we'd come out here and worked in the mines," said Zorin. "But there was something in them in mines, and then a horrible tornado came into Picher and was the final nail in the coffin. Then the feds forced all of the people out."

  "So with all the things you have read and the experiences that you have had, do you believe that is the real reason for Picher's demise?" Gavan wanted to know.

  "I don't know," said Zorin. "But I am sure we are about to find out."

  "She was a Gorilla," said Sam.

  "What?"

  "That's the mascots, the gorilla, the Picher Gorillas. Ms. Ferrell went to Picher, so she was a gorilla. A Picher Gorilla. Let's go to the school and see what we can dig up."

  "Dorin and I will patrol outside while you go look inside the school. Keep your ears tuned into your radios,” said Zorin.

  The dwarf drove the customized Psychobilly themed rat-rod drove to the building. Gavan and Sam quickly jumped out of the vehicle and sprinted towards the school. Their chests heaved as they dashed into the building. Both men paused for a while to catch a breath. With both of them grabbing their knees, Gavan looked at Sam and said something unintelligible.

  "What?" asked Sam.

  Gavan felt the muzzle near his mouth and twisted it. He still could not feel fresh air, but he tried his voice anyways.

  "Someone has been here," said Gavan. "And I mean recently. We need to be careful."

  "How can you tell?" asked Sam.

  The inside of the building was covered in dirt, dust, and debris. Gavan pointed to an area in the hallway that was not covered in dust. Sam followed his finger before nodding his head. The two looked for the library using a map they found in the hallway. The light in the hall was dim and the two men had to fumble with their night vision goggles to see the map. Finally, Sam pulled out his cell phone and used it as a light.

  "There," he said, pointing to the library on the map. The two then moved down the hallway before they realized they were in the wrong spot. They went back to the map and readjusted the lenses on their goggles. With their vision now adjusted for the hallway, the two fumbled their way to the library.

  Dust covered the entire room. Fortunately, the library was on the outside of the building, so light came in making the room a little less dim. The books were caked in dust, as if no living hands had ever touched them.

  "Down there," Gavan pointed to the yearbooks, and the two walked towards them. Sam took the catalog and began looking for the year he had seen on the class ring.

  "It's trashed, "said Sam. Some pages have been ripped out."

  "Look at this. All the other years are there except for four years. This whole room looks as if it hasn't been touched, except for these pages.” Said Gavan.

  "Well, we know which years to look for," said Sam. "There has to be a copy somewhere in this town."

  "There's also a good copy of cancer floating around this town too," said Gavan.

  "It's not cancer that I am scared of. There!" Sam pointed to the reference section. "We can use the references to find out what happened during those missing. Something thought it was important enough to hide, then I think it's important enough for us to look," said Sam.

  Sam walked towards the references. Juxtaposed to the deserted scene in the library was a chaotic scene in the references section. A rack of newspapers was thrown down. Some papers were torn apart and the newspaper stand had been destroyed. While the entire area was not burned, there were ash and a white particle around the cooked portion of the room.

  "There," said Sam. "That's her."

  Sam held up a burned white particle. Inside the mask Gavan’s mouth gaped in shock. That white particle was a page from a yearbook. How did Sam recognize that is what is was a picture? The theologian could not see any resemblance to Sasha. Taking a closer look, he still didn't understand how Sam could identify anything from the burnt papers.

  "Trust me," Sam furiously scratched the picture to make it more transparent.

  Gavan shuddered. He could hear heavy muffled breaths coming through Sam's gas mask. The youth minister knew Sam had returned to his addiction to the Witch-Queen. Sam got down on his hands and knees and crawled to the trash. Obsessively he started digging through the ash.

  "Are you sure you can do this Sam?" asked Gavan.

  "There," said Sam, emphatically shaking a picture. "That's her! I know it, I know that's her.

  Gavan took the picture from Sam. The girl in it has red hair and green eyes.

  "But that doesn't look like her." started Gavan. Much to his shock, Sasha Ferrell’s name was inscribed on the picture.

  Both men froze. Faint footsteps padded down the hall. As these footsteps got louder, the two looked around the room as they planned an escape. Gavan and Sam sprinted towards the windows just as the door sprung open. A horrible cry rang out followed by gurgling sounds. Both men spun around and behind them was an orc with an ax buried in his face. But the shaft was attached to the door frame. It appeared to have swung around the frame and into the vict
im's face as if the library door was actually a trap door.

  "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," said Gavan.

  "We never were -" Sam stopped mid-sentence and let out a loud scream.

  Gavan jumped back and attempted to grab his pistol. A hand was on his arm before he could do this. The grip was strong. Slowly, the silent stranger raised his other hand and pressed his finger to his lips, a sign for Sam and Gavan to remain silent.