The Adventures of Norman Oklahoma Volume One

by Steeven R. Orr

  We made our way across the field to my car.

  “What do we do now?” she asked as I started up the engine.

  “I take you home,” I said. “Your fiancé cries, you cry, I pretend not to cry. Everyone is happy.”

  “Sounds good,” she said, a smile on her face. “And you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. What does a man typically do after saving a damsel in distress?”

  “Well, I can’t speak for the rest of them, but me,” I scratched at my chin. “I plan on throwing back a celebratory bottle of chocolate milk and sleeping for at least sixteen hours.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said. “Except for the chocolate milk. I’m lactose intolerant.”

  “That’s the most horrible thing I’ve heard all night,” I said.

  She laughed and I pulled out onto the gravel road, heading back into town.

  47

  SHATTERED GLASS

  BY THE TIME MAGGIE and I had arrived back at the Police station, the effect of the goblin mist had worn off of Anthony. He’d been sitting at a desk filling out paperwork when we walked in.

  Anthony cried. Maggie cried. I pretended not to cry. It had all happened as I said it would.

  Diana had gone home to recuperate from her temporary blindness. I’d wanted to see how she was doing, but it would have to wait. It was late and she would need her sleep.

  Pat was still on duty. She’d refused to go home until she’d heard back from me. In fact, she wanted me to do paperwork.

  “A statement?” I said.

  “A statement, Norman, yes,” she said. “I need you to fill out a statement. Tell us what went down tonight, on the record.”

  “Come on, Pat,” I said. “What good is that gonna do? No one’s gonna to believe it. There was a dang minotaur and a giant slug involved. You’d be locked up in the loony bin if you file that.”

  “It still has to be done,” Pat said. “I don’t have to file the paperwork officially, but it will be good to have it on paper.”

  “Well,” I said, yawning. “Can it wait till tomorrow? I feel like I’ve been dragged over about four hundred miles of Kansas asphalt.”

  “It’s always best to get it on paper while it’s still fresh.”

  “Trust me, Pat,” I said. “I ain’t gonna forget this one for a great long time.”

  I had planned on heading straight for home, but then I remembered that I had two small bottles of chocolate milk sitting in the mini fridge at the office. I didn’t think I had any at home, and I really didn’t feel like running to the store.

  So, I told Pat where to find Cleon’s body, and I headed for the office.

  I downed the first bottle of milk in four big gulps before I’d even closed the fridge door. I took up the second bottle and stepped over to the window. Jack had done a good job, the new glass looked great. I sipped at the chocolate milk and looked out on Main.

  I’d spent most of the last two days fighting, being injured, healing, being injured again, and even taking some time off to visit the Black. A couple of days like that can really take a toll on a person. I was only a quarter of the way in to my second bottle of chocolate milk when I started to crash.

  The idea of spending the night in the office, sleeping there at the desk, sounded simply divine to my exhausted brain. So, with my gun belt still on, I took a seat behind the desk and let my head fall forward, welcoming sleep like an old friend.

  I didn’t have the nightmare. I don’t always have the nightmare. That makes me happy, knowing that each time I fall asleep I’m not going to dream about having my intestines pulled out. It’s the little things in life you have to cling to.

  I did dream, however. It was fuzzy, something about Diana shooting little bald men full of arrows. When I asked her what she was doing, she held a finger to her lips, made a shushing noise and said:

  “Be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting zealots.”

  Then she laughed like Elmer Fudd.

  Trinity was there as well, with all three heads looking both sad and scared.

  “Why didn’t you come back for me?” the dog said from all three mouths. “I waited.”

  “I did come back for you,” I said. “You were gone. Where did you go?”

  But Trinity faded away to be replaced by Maggie.

  “I’m not safe,” she said. She still wore the rags she’d had on when I’d left her at the station. “You thought you could save me, but the monsters are still out there.”

  “You’re safe,” I said. “You’re home.”

  “I was safe before,” said Maggie. “And they still took me. They can take me again.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “What are you going to do, Norman?” She said. “You can’t watch me all of the time. You can’t watch all of us. You can’t save all of us.”

  “Why are you saying this?” I said. “I saved you.”

  “Wake up, Norman,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Wake up.”

  She pushed me and I found myself rolling down a steep and rocky hill. I bounced as I hit rocks as large as my head.

  “Wake up, Norman Oklahoma.”

  But this time the voice wasn’t Maggie’s, and it wasn’t in the dream. Someone was in the office with me.

  I woke with a start.

  A figure stood by the window. The lights were out in the office, but the figure was silhouetted by the streetlights from outside.

  “Who are you?” I asked, standing and resting each hand on the butt of a pistol.

  “You made me look like a fool, human,” the figure said with a man’s voice. A familiar voice. “I do not like being made to look a fool.” He had his back to me as he watched the world outside.

  “I make a lot of people look foolish,” I said. “But not more often than I do myself.”

  I reached out and pulled the cord to the lamp on my desk, powering it on.

  The man turned as light crept into the room. He wore a suit and had bleach-blond hair. He smiled an unfriendly smile.

  It was Stone Face from the pub. Furthermore it was a...

  “Vampire,” I said.

  On instinct I drew both revolvers, thumbing back the hammers as they cleared leather.

  The vampire charged.

  I opened fire.

  I alternated between the gun in my right hand and the gun in my left. I worked like a machine. Right, then left. Right, then left. Not too fast, not too slow–just right, then left–squeezing off shot after shot.

  The slugs slammed into the vampire, knocking him back a step with each shot. I stepped forward, following the biter back across the room toward the window.

  By the time I’d fired off my ninth shot, the biter was up against the glass. The window that looked out over Main Street. The window I’d been thrown out of by a walrus just the other morning.

  My tenth shot hammered into him and he fell back against the glass. I heard the it crack and I fired off shot eleven. He slammed into glass again and it shattered behind him. Shot twelve took him out through the open window and he fell, following the shattered glass to the empty sidewalk below.

  I holstered the pistols and ran to the desk. I pulled open the top right drawer. In it was a box of bullets. Not your regular ones, but custom made. These were made of silver. They were vampire killers. I grabbed some up and loaded both pistols as I ran to the window.

  I looked down at the fallen biter as I slid the last cartridge home. He’d picked himself up from the sidewalk and looked up at me. Then he ran.

  I considered shooting him down, but I’d happened to blast him out the window as one of Eudora’s finest had been driving by. I’d also managed to gather a small crowd, regardless of the hour, and I didn’t feel good about opening fire among innocents.

  I took one last look at the broken window as the sound of running feet thundered up the stairs, and I realized that I was gonna have to call Jack back out to put in more glass.

  Maybe I
should just brick the thing up.

  THE END… FOR NOW.

  WHAT’S NEXT?

  The Adventures of Norman Oklahoma are not finished. Not by a long shot. I have many more stories to tell, many more adventures for Norman to take.

  Want to know more?

  Okay, how about a small preview.

  Turn the page.

  PREVIEW

  BUMP IN THE NIGHT

  SUSIE FRANKS, DESPITE being just nine years old, had never been afraid of the dark.

  Most of her friends found fear in the dark places of the world. Not one of them could sleep at night without a light on. They typically needed to cuddle up with some sort of stuffed animal or doll as well.

  But not Susie.

  Susie had never been much afraid of anything. Even as young as she was, she seemed to understand the futility of fear. Being afraid was a waste of time, plain and simple. On some baser level she understood that whatever would happen would happen, and so she had always slept like a baby and never really worried about future problems; like trips to the doctor or the dentist.

  Furthermore, the idea that monsters were lurking out there in the dark, hiding in her closet, or creeping about under her bed was, in her opinion, ludicrous.

  Monsters didn’t exist. She knew that. The stories were cool, sure, but that’s all they were to her. Just stories.

  And so, as night crept into the world, Susie began her before bed routine.

  First, a shower. She’d stopped taking baths when she was seven

  Soon she was what her dad called squeaky, meaning squeaky clean. Sometimes her dad would run a finger gently across the back of her hand and make a squeaky noise. And though he wasn’t very good at it, it always made her laugh.

  She dried and got into her pajamas. Then, at the last, she brushed her teeth.

  Time for bed.

  Not time, however, for lights out. First, her dad would read her a story. They have been reading the one about the spider that talked to the pig and would leave notes for the humans in her web. Susie loved it.

  Following the story Susie would give her dad’s beard a rigorous scratch.

  “Enjoy it while you can, Little Nibbler,” her dad said, using the nickname he’d been calling her since before she could remember. “I might go shave it all off tonight after you’re asleep.”

  “You better not,” she said. Then she made both hands into fists. “If you do, I may have to pound on you some.”

  “Whoa there,” he said, putting both hands in the air and backing away. “No need for violence.”

  Susie giggled. She knew her dad wasn’t really scared.

  “I love your beard,” she said. “Always keep it. Forever.”

  “Forever and ever,” her dad said.

  “What’s with all the hullabaloo?” Her mom was suddenly there beside her dad.

  “Dad said he was going to shave his beard again,” Susie said.

  “Tattle tale,” her dad said, then stuck his tongue out at her.

  “That old chestnut?” Her mom rolled her eyes. “You beat that dead horse anymore and there won’t be much left.”

  “Gross,” Susie said. She scrunched her nose up in mock disgust.

  “Right?” Her dad pretended to throw up.

  They all laughed.

  Then the three of them said prayers and, after a round of I love yous, her parents turned off the light, and shut the door.

  Once the door latch had clicked closed, something cold suddenly crept along Susie’s spine. She ignored it and closed her eyes.

  But the feeling continued. She tried to laugh it off, dismiss the feeling, but each time she closed her eyes, the sensation only intensified. So she lay there with her eyes open, listening to the sounds of the house at night.

  The feeling persisted. Something wasn’t right. The room, the way it felt, was off. A part of her, something deep inside, recognized the feeling, had identified it almost at once. She tried to push the thought out of her head, but it wouldn’t go away.

  Someone, or something, was in the room with her.

  A war began inside her. Instinct taking up one side, and her rational brain taking up the other.

  It was impossible for someone else to be in her bedroom. How did they get in? The windows were closed, her door was closed. There was no way.

  Perhaps they had been in her room the entire time?

  Okay, yeah, right. That was stupid. She would have seen them. Her parents would have seen them.

  Maybe, whoever it is, was invisible.

  Alright, now that was even more dumb than the other thought. She laughed.

  Yet, still… never hurt to be careful. So she got out of bed and switched on the light.

  Nothing. Just her, the bed, her dresser, the rocking chair, and the bookshelf that didn’t hold only books, but also her collection of piggy banks. She had five of them now.

  That was it. She was alone.

  But the icy feeling remained.

  She could go into her parent’s room. She knew they were still awake, she could hear the sound of the television drifting down the hall. But no. That’s not who she was. She laughed again, switched off the light, and got back into bed.

  This time she pulled the blankets up around her and turned on to her side, her back to the room. She yawned and burrowed deep into her expansive pillow. Her eyes grew heavy and she yawned, long and wide. She closed her eyes and tried to picture what her dad would look like without a beard. The smile from such a thought froze on her face when she heard it. A soft exhalation of breath from within the room behind her.

  Her mom had often been known to check in on Susie one last time before officially turning in, and Susie might have dismissed the sound for that if it weren’t for one thing. She never heard the door open. She opened her eyes. If her mom was in the room, she should see the light from the hallway shining on her wall. All was dark.

  She remained still for a few minutes, her back to the room. She heard nothing more but the occasional laugh track from whatever show her parents were watching in their room. So, once again, Susie rolled out of bed and switched on the light. Once again nothing was there. She laughed and shook her head, feeling silly over the whole thing. She turned out the light and got back into bed.

  Yet, the ice still played along her spine. She shivered and pulled more of the blankets up around her. She snuggled in, pushed her thoughts to something more pleasant, and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall asleep at last.

  The nightmare began almost at once.

  She stood at one end of a damp hallway made from brick and stone. The light from torches bounced weakly from the walls, creating more shadows than light. Along the wall on either side were dark, wooden doors with small, iron barred windows set near the tops. Behind these doors she could hear the groans and weeping of the anguished and disparaged. They sounded like children.

  Something dark and unnatural waited for her at the other end of the long hallway. She couldn’t see it crouched there among the shadows, but she could hear it breathing, even over the cries of those imprisoned behind the wooden doors.

  She turned and found an escape behind her. There, at her end of the hall, just three steps away, was an open door with sunlight shining through. She took a step toward it, then another, and then another, only to find the doorway still three steps away. She tried again, walking and then running to the freedom the sunlight promised. But regardless of how fast she ran, how far, or how hard, the door continued to remain just three steps away.

  She stopped, her heart racing, sweat pouring out of her, her breath coming short and quick. She bent, resting her hands on her knees, her head hanging low. She watched her sweat fall to the stone floor and knew on some level that this place was not real. She knew that this was a nightmare, and yet there was nothing she could do to change anything.

  The breathing behind her continued, louder now. It seemed to be right on top of her. She spun, looking for the source and finding nothing. She contin
ued to spin, the breathing was all around her, she turned and turned, faster and faster, until suddenly there was a face before her.

  It was a man, pale and hairless, with yellow eyes like a snake. The man opened his mouth to reveal row upon row of jagged teeth, yellowed and razor sharp.

  “Susie!” the man said, his voice like a rusty hinge.

  She woke in her own bed with a start, her breathing heavy and labored. She sat up and looked around. The faint glow from the digital clock on the dresser told her she’d only been asleep for an hour. She could no longer hear the television from her parent’s room. She thought about getting out of bed and turning on the light, maybe going into the adjoining bathroom and getting a drink, but she dismissed the thought with a shake of her head.

  As she snuggled back in under her blankets, once again lying on her side, her back to the room, she almost laughed out loud at how silly she was being. There was nothing to fear. It was just a dream. Her own imagination at work inside her head. It was so silly to get all worked up over a stupid dream.

  And yet…

  The breathing from her dream. She could still hear it. It was stuck in her head like a tick. She tried to shake it off. Never in her life had a dream affected her so, not her like this, and she didn’t much care for it.

  The breathing continued. There was something about it… something real. It was almost tangible. She even thought she could feel it on the back of her neck.

  Soft. Measured. Inhale and exhale. Calm and deliberate. This was no remnant from a dream.

  Someone was in the room with her. The realization hit her like a bucket of ice.

  She wanted to turn around, wanted to scream, wanted to do anything other than cower under her blankets with her back to the room. But that icy feeling that had started in her spine had quickly migrated throughout her entire body. She was unable to move. Her fear, something she’d thought she had no use for, had her rooted to the spot. The only part of her that seemed to be capable of motion were her eyes, and she struggled to find a way to turn them enough to see what was behind her.

  Suddenly the room was darker.