War Pigs

by D V Wolfe

  I looked down at myself and at Noah. While we were waiting for the last of the cars to leave the scene, we’d changed out of our suits and back into our dirty work clothes. Noah’s tie-dyed family reunion t-shirt and dirty cargo shorts had a new layer of dirt with blood accents. I looked down at myself and saw a new layer of blood and dirt on my a-shirt and jeans.

  “Oh,” I said, “these are our uh, field clothes.” Sheriff Moody was staring at my shirt in horror, so I thought it best to distract him. “We’ve got good news for you, Sheriff.” His gaze jumped up to meet my eyes.

  “Yeah?” He asked.

  I gave him a thumbs-up. “Problem solved. We got it.”

  “What? Really?” Moody asked, seeming more surprised than I expected. It took a second for me to remember that Moody was an innocent and that the thought of something like a Hidebehind existing in real life and not just in drunken logger stories was a revelation in and of itself.

  “Yeah,” I said. “So it shouldn’t be causing you all any more trouble. I’m sorry we didn’t make it out here in time to save the first three.”

  “So who was it?” Moody asked. “Wild animal? Drifter?”

  “No,” I said. “You were right. It was a Hidebeh-”

  “Whoa!” Moody said and he looked around to make sure that Shotfall’s two a.m. crowd wasn’t standing around getting an earful. I followed his gaze and then looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

  “Worried about the papers getting wind of this?” I asked.

  “Well, I…,” Moody started. “Look, I know how I sounded earlier. I was, I was just desperate. I mean, no forensics, nothing to help us catch whoever did this. We’re a small town. I just…”

  I held up a hand. “Sheriff, don’t worry. We understand. We just wanted to let you know that we solved the problem and your loggers should be safe now.”

  “It really was a…” Moody asked, his expression returning to a mixture of curiosity and horror.

  I nodded. “Yep and we wouldn’t have been able to take care of it without your help.”

  “Wow, can I...can I see it?” Moody asked.

  “See it?” I asked, confused.

  “The..,” Moody looked around him, “the body you know. I’ve...I’ve never seen one. I mean, I’ve never seen a ...Hidebehind.” He whispered the last word like a kid saying “shit” in church.

  “I’m not sure you actually want to,” I said. “I mean…”

  “No,” Moody said and suddenly the fifty-something-year-old man turned into an excited kid, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “No, I want to see it. Really.”

  I looked at Noah and shrugged. Noah didn’t look like he thought this was a good idea, but he cut his eyes back to Moody and saw we were fighting a losing battle. With a sigh, I went around the truck and pulled the black plastic bag out of the toolbox.

  “So we burned the rest. Don’t worry, we made sure the fire was out,” I said.

  “So what’s that?” Moody asked, his excitement turning to apprehension.

  “Oh,” I said, looking down at the bag. I opened it up for Moody to see. “It’s just the head.”

  Moody threw up.

  I had to move the bag so he didn’t throw up directly into it. I wasn’t fast enough and I was pretty sure some had ended up in the bag with the head.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Shit, that smells awful,” Moody wheezed, tears running in his eyes.

  “I know, right?” Noah said. “Like a burning bearskin rug full of pork and beans.”

  Moody heaved again, repainting the sidewalk in what looked, in this light, exactly like pork and beans. I hurried around the truck to stuff the head in the toolbox and then I came back to check on Moody. When he straightened up, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Wow, I never thought I’d actually see one, in real life.”

  I nodded. “It’s actually a first for us too.”

  “So, uh, will there be a report and an investigation from your...department?” Moody asked.

  I shook my head. “No, the problem should be taken care of now.”

  Moody nodded but he still looked worried. “What if there are...more of them?”

  “I’ll give you the number to my...direct line,” I said, trying to remember what the agent in a movie had said.

  Ten minutes later, Noah and I pulled away from the curb. Moody waved to us, the scrap of paper that I’d written my number on, clutched in his hand.

  “Well,” Noah said on a sigh. “Job done. We could take a leisurely drive back to Rosetta’s for a refill and a good night’s sleep on her comfy couches…”

  “Turn on the radio,” I said, “let’s see what Walter’s got.”

  Noah groaned. “Or I can turn on the radio and we can jump right into another shitstorm of a hunt.”

  I grinned. “That’s the door I want.” I meant it, but if I was being honest, all the things Noah had said about refilling at Rosetta’s sounded really appealing. But, we had to keep going. Three months and some change was all I had and there were still a hell of a lot of souls to save.

  The radio was in the middle of a Crosby, Stills, and Nash song when we hit the highway on the other side of Shotfall. We took a curve and I felt my stomach drop when they reappeared. The burning apparitions of the citizens of Ashley, Kansas that I’d condemned to Hell along with me, lined the sides of the highway, screaming and running right at us. I dug the pill bottle out of the seat crack and popped the cap.

  “Again?” Noah asked. I turned to look at him. He glanced down at the bottle in my hand. “It’s just, I’ve noticed you’ve had to take more of those lately.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’m building a tolerance to them.” I dry-swallowed a third pill, closed the bottle, and dropped it back on the seat. I did my best to ignore the flaming bodies, hurling themselves at us and turned the knob up on the radio. The song ended and after a few seconds, a Kansas song came on.

  “Oh thank god,” Noah muttered. “I had this terrible feeling that Walter was about to come on and announce that there was a showdown between the demons, cannibals, and a god happening two towns over.”

  “If only,” I muttered.

  “It’s just a couple hours back to Rosetta’s, right?” Noah asked and I didn’t miss the note of hope in his voice.

  I glanced down at the gas gauge. “Yeah, but we need to stop for a fill-up if we’re going to get there.” I sighed. Might as well drive that way until Walter gave us a different heading. In fact, after we filled up, I would just call him to see if he had anything new to hunt. Shit, I might even get to hear about it before he put it in the weather report.

  A turn off for a truck stop came up on the right side and we sailed down the ramp and into the parking lot. We swung around the side of the building next to the pumps and I paused. There was a bench set in the concrete just outside the truck stop doors. Sitting on it was a man in a dirty brown jacket. He was sleeping soundly, his head leaned against the shoulder of a man wearing a pressed black suit and a murderous expression.

  “Is that…,” Noah started.

  “Festus,” I said, pulling up and parking next to one of the pumps. “Aww, it looks like he made a friend.”

  He was already on his feet, striding towards us when Noah and I got out and slammed our doors shut.

  “Finally,” Festus hissed.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry. Didn’t know we had an appointment with you.”

  Festus glared back at the bench he’d been sitting on and pulled out his red notebook.

  “Exciting news to report?” He asked.

  “How about you go first,” I said. “Did you get the paperwork for the incubus and Nigel the demon?”

  “No,” Festus said on a sigh. “They still haven’t sent it to me.”

  “What about Ber-the Duke?” I asked, ignoring the low rumble under our feet. “Is he still in his office?”

  Festus threw his hands up. “What am I, his valet? How am I supposed to know?
”

  I’d had a feeling that the Hellgate in Garnett had been the Duke’s peons trying to find another way to get him upstairs. If he was the red-carpet-unroller for whatever demon spring break the upper management downstairs were planning, he had to be getting anxious about his travel plans. Not to mention the fact that all the forces of Hell that he could drum up hadn’t been able to bring him back his soul stone which was currently residing in my pocket.

  “Because you’re a demon and you hang out with other demons and demons talk. Now spill. Where is this asshole? I have a death to avenge and my calendar is getting crowded.” After killing Ornias, a mid-level demon, I’d been convinced that he wasn’t the top of the food chain. There was a bigger demon acting as the real brains behind everything, including Nya’s death. And there was only one big-dog demon I knew of that had been wrapped up in this mess from day one. Berith, the Duke of Hell. Lately, Festus had been going behind enemy lines as often as he dared to find out anything that might be helpful. Come hell or high water, I was going to kill Berith. For everything he’d done, but especially for what he’d done to Nya.

  Festus met my gaze and his whole face seemed to sag, exhaustion and anxiety had etched permanent lines across it. “Bane, I’m the ‘soul accountant’ for Bane the Escapee. You think the demons hate you? Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been eviscerated, disemboweled, cloned, bludgeoned, made to watch while my copies were being eaten alive, and much, much more, just because I’m your accountant?”

  Festus had alluded to this before and I’d certainly seen some of the injuries to prove it, but looking him in the eyes now, I felt like I was seeing a flicker of what he must have been like as a man, god knows how many years before. And for the first time, I was one hundred percent certain that Festus wasn’t lying.

  We were quiet for a minute. “Cloned?” I asked finally.

  Festus nodded. “Yeah, and not in a petri dish like you humans do it. No, in Hell, they slice you right down the middle, which is painful, don’t get me wrong, but then they rub brimstone on the open wounds and you have the pain of regrowing half of your body until there are two of you, both in the same agonizing pain. Then they torture one of you while the other one can feel the torture, but also the one being tortured can feel it and it creates this kind of infinite loop of agony.”

  “Sounds like a good time,” I said softly.

  “Oh, it’s all the travel brochures swear it is and more,” Festus said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I knew your bosses gave you a hard time and were violent dickbags because of me, but I didn’t know all the other demons were doing it…”

  Festus sighed. “It’s not one hundred percent bad, most demons of my rank would never get a chance at an Empty House or the ability to come topside, so, silver lining.”

  “I guess,” I said. “So, we killed a Hidebehind tonight.”

  Festus raised an eyebrow. “A...what?”

  “A Hidebehind,” I said with a shrug.

  “From those drunken logger stories?” Festus asked.

  I threw my hands up. “How does everyone else know that ‘drunken logger stories’ are a thing except for me?”

  “Maybe because you grew up in western Kansas where trees aren’t really a ‘thing’,” Noah muttered behind me. I turned to see Festus and Noah share a fist bump.

  “Whatever,” I said. “Anyway, with the dead Hidebehind, what’s my total up to.”

  “Hang on,” Festus said, consulting his notebook. “Hidebehinds are supposed to be invisible. How did you…”

  “Apparently, they’re only invisible to the sober,” I said.

  Festus shook his head. “So you conned the kid here, into being sober bait while you got hammered and what snuck up on a Hidebehind before it could kill him?”

  I paused, about to argue, and then I had to let it go since Festus had a pretty good pulse on what had happened. “Yeah, that about covers it.”

  “Shit,” Festus said, looking at Noah. “Better you than me.” I’d moved away from Festus and pulled the head back out of the toolbox.

  “Hey Festus,” I said, coming to stand next to him and opening the bag. “See?”

  The head had started to bloat and decompose in the bag because of the warm night, confined space, and the bag holding in the gasses it was letting off. The smell that I stirred up from it as I opened the bag was a new level of putrid.

  “Dear gods below,” Festus coughed, staggering back from it. “Did you go gift shopping in the fifth ring?”

  “Of Hell?” I asked. “No. We took the thing’s head.”

  Festus looked like he was trying to prevent a dry-heave. “Well, I hope you two are very happy together. Put that thing away.” He turned away from us and leaned over his notebook.

  “How many do I have left?” I asked, stuffing the head back in the toolbox.

  “Well, according to the line item in here, Hidebehinds are worth two souls. But the count won’t be official until I see the paperwork,” Festus said. “That’s only two hundred and thirty-one souls remaining. And just a few days over three months to get the rest in. Let’s see, that’s about two and a half souls a day. Not too bad.”

  I sighed. “Thanks for the ‘meh’ news. Did you ever find out if Fergus or Dorcas, or whatever his name was, that we killed in Garnett, was worth more than five souls?”

  “Furcas,” Festus said, going slightly pale. “No, I have a...meeting with my boss about that.”

  “That’s good, right?” I said. “It probably means he’s worth more?”

  “Good for you,” Festus muttered. “If it’s worth more souls, I’m guessing he plans to beat them out of my hide. I don’t have to tell you how annoyed they are that you’re doing so well.”

  I felt a flash of annoyance all my own. “Instead of beating the messenger, well, the accountant, why don’t you tell those dickbags to come and try beating them out of me?”

  Festus rolled his eyes. “Yes, that would make them stop.” He pulled out a pack of clove cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth. He started searching his pockets for his lighter. “Where are you off to next?” Festus said, some of the banter going out of his voice.

  I shrugged. “We still don’t have any leads on Joel or Sister Smile. He’s probably dead by now.”

  We were quiet for a moment and I could see horror playing out on Festus’ face, most likely playing back his time with the cannibal tribe before we got him out. He shook his head, clearing the emotion like shaking an Etch-a-Sketch. “Humans,” Festus said. “We think we have the market cornered on torture and unspeakable horror, but humans, you always find ways to give us new ideas.”

  “That’s pleasant,” I said.

  Festus moved a few feet away, still patting his pockets, looking for his lighter. “Yeah, and it’s going to get a lot more ‘pleasant’.” He turned around to face us, opening his suit jacket to search the pockets.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Anymore,” Festus said, shaking his head, “going back to the office feels like I’m tiptoeing over land mines.” He was annoyed now and distracted as he re-checked his pants pockets for his lighter.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Where the hell is it,” Festus said around his cigarette.

  “Noah,” I said, turning my head to look at him. I nodded my head at Festus and Noah sighed. He stepped forward and pinched the end of Festus’ cigarette between his fingers. The paper started to burn and smoke filled the air. The cigarette burned quickly and Noah jerked his hand back, wiping his fingers on his dirty cargo shorts.

  “Thanks,” Festus said, looking at the half-burned cigarette. “I’ve been meaning to cut back on my smoking anyway.”

  “So why are you walking on landmines in Hell?” I asked. “And I know how that would sound if I said it to anyone else, but you’re from there, and I know that’s probably not the norm for you. Just tell us. What’s going on?”

  Festus chuckled and took a pull on the cigarette. �
��That’s just it. I have no idea. Everyone is busy. There are a lot of meetings behind closed doors happening. More screaming at night, more development, and expansion. But everyone is so tight-lipped. At first, I thought it was just because it me and all of Hell knows what I do with my time,” Festus said, gesturing to me. “But I saw three of my superiors booted out of some big to-do on the corporate level. They were pissed and saying something about “on their own heads” when they passed me. It just...gave me this really bad feeling. I mean, I usually have bad feelings when I go back downstairs, but this...this was more. They’re working on something.” He turned his attention back to Noah and me. “And the best advice I can give you is to lay low, collect your souls and try to avoid painting any more targets on your back. Red really isn’t your color.”

  “So how bad is it going to be if we don’t do any of that?” I asked.

  Festus sighed. “Bane, they aren’t playing anymore. It’s not just that you’re getting closer to actually finishing. I don’t know what it is, but there is something a lot bigger than your little topside field trip-scavenger hunt going on now.”

  I nodded. “I know. Still, I just can’t help myself when it comes to wanting to big game hunt those fuckers.” Festus looked like he was about to argue and I felt the hot surge of anger again. “Ornias was trying to kill me, remember? I want his boss, Festus. I want the Duke. I owe it to Nya. And you’re the only spy I’ve got.”

  Festus looked down and shook his head. “Is revenge worth undoing everything you’ve done up to this point? If the Duke decides to come after you and you kill him, that’s one thing, but if he makes it out of the pit and you go looking for him, you’re going to be kicking a whole new kind of beehive. Just leave it alone.” He took a last pull on his cigarette. I looked down and kicked a rock across the cracked pavement. The annoying stinging in my eyes had started again and I wasn’t going to let Festus see me like this.