by Pat Cunningham, Savanna Kougar, Rebecca Gillan, Solara Gordon, Serena Shay
His miracle arrived in a sweep of crimson wings. Syprelli maneuvered herself beneath him. He landed hard on the flying filly’s back. Both she and Cochrane grunted and swore, though hers was more of a neigh.
Deuce steadied him. “Thanks for coming out to meet us. I take it the fight’s not going well?”
“Understatement.” His gun was gone. They were up the creek for sure now, unlessâ�¦ “Did you get it?”
“Right here.” Deuce did a little drumroll on the lid of the plastic tub under his arm. “Nice and fresh and chocked with chunky bits. Now we just have to shove it down his throat.”
“You leave that to me. Can you get me up close?”
Syprelli shook her mane. She didn’t want to get any closer to the Hellephant than she was right now. Sensible, but not helpful. “Just set me down, then,” Cochrane said. “I shouldn’t have any trouble getting that asshat to attack me.”
The shifter fooled him. She changed course, aimed for the mammoth. Cochrane was impressed in spite of himself. He’d long believed shifters were monsters that skulked in the dark and menaced honest humans. This last week had made a dent in a lot of his preconceptions. Maybe some shifters could be spared. You just had to pluck the good apples out of the rotten barrel.
First things first. He had a mutant mammoth monster to kill.
Syprelli carried Cochrane and Deuce back to the heart of the battle. Cochrane leaned past her neck to peer at the ground. It looked like a tribe of Scotsmenâ��and one Scotswoman in a Xenaesque corsetâ��was attacking the mammoth’s legs. Cochrane shook his head. This town just got weirder the longer he stuck around.
The winged filly flapped higher. “Watch out for the trunk,” Deuce said. Syprelli muttered something that Cochrane guessed was No shit in horse talk, and dove.
No good. The mammoth saw them. Syprelli swerved beyond reach of that snaking deadly trunk. She swept past the monster and climbed for another attempt. Its bellow followed her into the sky.
Deuce passed the tub of peanut butter to Cochrane. “Any idea what you’re going to do?”
“Stop him.”
Deuce shrugged. “Okay.”
The red horse dove again. This time they got help from the ground crew. The Scotsmen were watching Syprelli. When she started her dive they charged in and laid axes and knives to the Hellephant’s hind legs. The beast half-turned to deal with this more immediate assault. Its mouth gaped in an irritated roar.
“There!” Cochrane pointed. “Get me right up to his mouth.”
Syprelli whinnied. Are you out of your mind? But she bravely veered in as close as she dared. With Deuce’s help Cochrane got up on his knees on her back, with his feet under him. “Hey! Atcheson! Open wide, you son of a bitch!”
The mammoth swung its head toward them. It lifted its trunk and gaped its mouth to roar at them.
Cochrane jumped.
He landed right where he needed to, just inside its mouth. God above, it stank in here! And it was slimy, and hot as hell to boot. Bits of tree branches and mashed leaves and grass were stuck in its mammoth teeth. Cochrane anchored himself around a molar and throttled his instinct to gag. A mass of black flesh quested around for the annoyance worrying at it: the mammoth’s tongue.
Just the thing. Cochrane pried the lid off the tub and lobbed handfuls of peanut butter at that writhing slab of meat. He smeared gobs of the deadly-to-Hellephants foodstuff onto its teeth and the floor of its mouth for good measure. Finally he just tossed the whole tub down its throat. That ought to give it some problems in several hours’ time. “Bottoms up,” he said.
Now to get out of here.
Already the part of the monster that was still Atcheson was realizing something was wrong. Those hot blasts of breath came more quickly. The humongous tongue appeared to swell even as he stared at it. Short gaggy sounds rumbled up out of its throat.
It was going to vomit.
“No,” Cochrane groaned. “No no no no.” He scrambled past the Hellephant’s lips and teetered on the edge of its gaping mouth. A tusk curved just within reach. He leaped.
And missed.
Once again Syprelli appeared in the nick of time. Deuce caught Cochrane by the arm and hauled him aboard. “We figured you wouldn’t have an exit strategy,” he explained.
The airborne shifters streaked for the sky. Those on the ground scattered. The mammoth halted. It shuddered all over. It tried to scream, but couldn’t force more than a squeak through its rapidly-closing throat. Its eyes bulged. Its legs buckled. One of the Scotsmen yelled, “Timberrrr!”
The Hellephant collapsed just short of the bridge over Schitt Creek. It rolled over onto its side and wheezed desperately for breath. Red splotches�monstrous hives�appeared on its trunk.
Cautiously Syprelli came to earth a prudent distance away. Dante, the Scotsmen, Rafe the eagle shifter, and a naked Turkle, even scrawnier and uglier without his clothing, crept up on the mammoth. When nothing happened to them, Cochrane joined them. “Is he â�¦ ?”
“Not yet,” Dante said, with a jerk of his chin at the Hellephant’s heaving side. “Its mutant genes are trying to fight the allergy, and its human genes are resisting. It might survive. It might even recover, given sufficient time. We have to act fast.”
“No problem,” Cochrane said. He glared into the former Atcheson’s glassy blue eye. “Just hand me a gun. I’ll make it quick.”
“No.”
The hunter stared at Dante. “No?”
“I need to put in a call to the local witches. If they can’t restore him to human form, they’ll move him somewhere elseâ��another dimension, another planet. Some place where he can’t hurt anyone.”
“Works for me,” Turkle said. “Someplace where he can smash stuff and be the biggest bastard around. I suspect he’d like that. Got a radio in m’truck.”
“Thanks.”
“You can’t do that!” Cochrane yelled at Dante’s retreating back. “We have toâ��”
One of the Scotsmen stopped his tirade with a meaty hand on his arm. “Leave it, laddie,” he advised. “Yon beastie’s threat is done. â��Tis up to us to help him now, as well as we’re able. That’s our way.”
Your way sucks, Cochrane wanted to say. However, he saw that he was outnumbered and prudently kept his mouth shut. His opinion of shapeshifters rearranged itself yet again. He stood off to one side and glowered at his fellow defenders, and concluded his original hunt might not be finished after all.
****
Sometime later a weary, poo-streaked Ewan and Maureen trudged up the highway and joined those still on the battlefield. They made a wide detour around the laboriously-wheezing Hellephant and reported in to Dante. “I see you saved the day,” Ewan said. “Sorry I missed it. Anybody get a video?”
“We were busy,” Dante said dryly. “Duff and his buddies will be happy to fill you in, but you’ll have to buy the drinks. By the way, where’s my car?”
“Back there.” Ewan jerked his thumb to indicate the highway behind him. “It’s a littleâ�¦well, try not to be too upset. It was all for a good cause.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Shit happens.”
Chapter Fifty:
Transcripts from the Battle of Schitt Creek
By Rebecca Gillan
Loki: Tango Helo Oscar Romeo, check check
[burst of static]
Thor: Who?
Loki: TANgo HEEEEElo Oscar RomEO! Check CHECK!
Thor: Dude, everyone knows who we are. Just say m’name.
Loki: Whatever, catbox breath. Clearly you can hear me so the radio check is a go.
[five minute silence]
Thor: Contact!
Loki: What? Where?
Thor: Dude, someone just drove Dante’s ride into a giant pile of bantha poo!
Loki: Ok, I see it now. Yeah, that does kind of look like a bantha except it has a trunk�
Thor: DUDE! DUDE! Did you just see what Ewan did?
Loki: Yeah! He went fishing for hellephant while
Duce distracted the bugger by nipping its heels! That was totally awesome! Dad, can I go chase the hellephant, too? [muffled sounds] Why not? Uncle Bo and Uncle Nick let us nip at their heels when they play chase all the time!
Thor: �PLAT! Right into the poo with you!
Loki: What’d I miss?
Thor: If you’d not hold the transmit button while begging Dad for something you know he’s not gonna go for, you’d know.
Loki: Just tell me!
Thor: Well, Ewan used that big fishing pole like a long range grappling hook to climb up on the bantha or hellephant or whatever.
Loki: Saw that part.
Thor: Yeah but you missed seeing Ewan duke it out with the mutant werewolf on the hellephant’s back while the skinny chick tried not to fall off the thing’s head because the mutant just kinda tossed her away when it went to go after Ewan. And then Ewan flat out NUT SHOTTED the mutant with the fishing pole and then it fell off the hellephant and landed right in the middle of fresh steaming pile of poo!
Loki: Dude, that’s awesome. I wanna be like Ewan when I grow up!
[muffled sounds. Mooney smacking his pup over the head?]
Loki: Fine. Dad said to repeat Ewan’s coyote call since not ever’one can understand it. He is saying that the hellephant’s going to be in range of Schitt Creek in les than five minutes and that he didn’t see where the mutant escaped to after it got out of the scat pile.
Thor: Moon-Moon said it headed towards the tiger compound.
Bo Ewing: Say again? It headed to the tiger compound? Not the Hancock Packlands?
Thor: That’s right, Uncle Bo. It went east toward the tigers, not southeast toward the other mutant wolves.
Bo: Good to know. Tell Dante we’ll reshuffle the secondary line to protect the northwest edge of town, as well.
Dante: Got it. Keep up the good work, pups.
Thor: Who’s on the secondary line?
Loki: I heard Dad talking to Uncle Nick about it. If the wolves can’t stop the hellephant before it reaches town, the herds are going to try to redirect it.
Thor: Uh, I don’t think that’s going to work. Uncle Bo and Han are pretty big and Aunt Mary and Grandma are pretty tough, but there’s no way a heard of Big Horns is going to be able to turn that thing.
Loki: That’s why it’s called a last ditch effort, butt-sniffer. And it’s not just the Ewing herd. The oxen, the mustangs, even the elk are waiting on standby.
Bo: That’s right boy. If the offence fails, our only hope of stopping that monster is to try and appeal to its herd pachyderm herding instincts.
Thor: It’s bigger than most of the trees, Uncle Bo.
Bo: That’s why it’s a last ditch effort, fuzzball. No how about an update on the battle field?
Loki: Ok, Ewan just howled that Atcheson is ‘lergic to peanuts. Who’s Atcheson?
Thor: Moon-Moon says that’s the hellephant’s name.
Bo: Allergic to peanuts, got it. What’s the beasts ETA?
Loki: Dad said it’ll be to Schitt Creek in about three minutes ‘cause its speeding up. A flying horse just shifted and has somebody on its back. Dad said it looks like they are headed for the Turkle spread, prolly because Mrs. Turkle stock piles peanut butter.
Thor: It just bugled. Looks like the fight’s about to begin.
Loki: Mr. Turkle just lit it up with a grenade launcher! The hellephant has stopped charging� Mr. Turkle is still firing grenades�
Thor: Dude! The monster just batted that grenade away like it was a baseball!
Loki: It just charged again. It just grabbed Mr. Turkle with its trunk!
Thor: It’s gonna eat him!
Loki: calm down! Look, that human with the huge gun is shooting at it.
Thor: Oh my GOD! There’s a bunk of dudes in skirts with swords charging the hellephant’s hind legs!
Loki: Calm down, butt munch! We’re supposed to be reportin’ on the battle progress.
Thor: Eat that, you ugly bantha monster! Woooo!!!!
Loki: looks like Mr. Turkle just shot his way out of the hellephant’s mouth.
Thor: That’s a spicy meata balla!
Loki: Dude, cartoon references?
Thor: Airborn!
Loki: Ok, the human just got thrown by the hellephant and the flying horse is back. It just plucked him out of the sky before he hell.
Thor: Dudes in skirts kick tail! Oh! OH! Ah-wooo!
Loki: My brother to doofus just wolfed out and the flying horse is making strafing runs on the hellephant while the guys in dresses distract it. [muffled sounds] Kilts. Dad says it’s guys in kilts, not dresses. Oh now that was just cool! The flying horse swooped in and the human jumped into the hellephant’s mouth, rubbed something all over its teeth, and then jumped back out just in time for the horse to catch him! And then the hellephant tried to puke but it can’t ‘cause its tongue is the size ofâ��
Mooney: And that’s all for the Loki and Thor comedy hour.
Dante: That it is. I’m calling this battle a wrap. Call in the witches to do triage on a prehistoric monster in full anaphylactic shock due to peanut allergies. Get clean up out here for all the monster poop. And has anyone seen my car?
Chapter Fifty-one:
Restitution
By Pat Cunningham
Cochrane glanced around Talbot’s Peak’s center square and tried not to let his horror show. It looked like the whole misbegotten population had turned out. To honor him, the wolfman Dante said. Yeah, right. They were still shapeshifters, and they still outnumbered him, and they had still confiscated his weapons after the fight was over. This better not be the honor accorded the victim right before the sacrifice.
At least they’d left him his clothing this time. That was a step in the right direction.
A lean, gangly man with a twitchy nose stepped up to the podium. He’d been pointed out to Cochrane earlier as the current Mayor. “Fellow Peakites,” he spoke into the mic, “by now you’re all aware of the monster that threatened us and our town. We came together in the face of peril, and we triumphed. I’m proud of all of you.
“Today we honor those who directly risked their lives and safety to defend us. Dante.” The wolf man seated near the podium stood and bowed modestly to the cheering crowd. “Duff McDuff and his cohorts.” From out of the crowd the Scotsmen and -woman raised tankards of liquor and roared something in Gaelic. “Rafael Golden.” The Mayor nodded skyward, where an eagle circled. “The Turkle family, who politely declined to join us this afternoon. Ditto for Syprelli, a newcomer to Talbot’s Peak, who nevertheless put her life on the line for us. I hope you all help to make her feel welcome here in the days to come. May I also extend our gratitude to a young man who played a vital role in our defense, yet chooses to remain anonymous.” Cochrane spotted Deuce standing with a bunch of glowering wolves dressed like “Twilight” wannabes. He was the only one smiling.
“Ewan Carter and Maureen Starkey.” The blond man standing at the front of the crowd hastily yanked his hand off his girlfriend’s rack. The girl in the glasses just laughed and left her own hand where it sat comfortably on his ass. Cochrane tried not to scowl directly at them. That damned coyote still owed him for that bite on the wrist, even though the cast had come off a while back. And her. She was a hunter, or supposed to be. She’d clearly thrown in her lot with the enemy. Women. Couldn’t trust ‘em.
“And a special thanks and our undying gratitude to another stranger to our town, who nevertheless literally leaped into the jaws of hell to save us all. Abel Cochrane.” The crowd broke into thunderous applause. Numerous hands propelled him toward the podium. The Mayor stepped back and motioned to the mic.
Cochrane stared out at the sea of faces confronting him. Shifter faces. Monsters, every last one of them, hiding behind faux human features. Clapping and chanting his name.
“Just doing my job,” he mumbled into the mic, and tried to make his escape.
“Just a moment.” The Mayor caught his arm. “I’ve bee
n told you initially came to Talbot’s Peak for a specific reason. We’d like to help out. Mr. Lincoln? Mr. McMahon?”
Cochrane stiffened. He recognized those two old geezers stepping out of the crowd. Purple paint, cardboard fairy wings, public nudity and the cops. He wasn’t going to forget those sons of bitches any time soon.
“Mr. Cochrane,” the aged ape who’d once been Mayor of Talbot’s Peak boomed within earshot of the mic. “Last time you visited our fair hamlet, Vern and Iâ��well, we did something mean that I know now we shouldn’t’ve. We’d like to apologize for that. No hard feelings?”
He held out his hand. Cochrane just stared at it. “Take it,” Lincoln murmured through a politician’s smile. “Otherwise Vern here’s liable to shift, and that’ll put his big wolfie jaws right in line with your dingle. We wouldn’t want any accidents to happen in front of the children, would we?”
Goddamn shifters. They’d trapped him good and proper. Cochrane seized the ape’s hand and pumped it once, then repeated the gesture with the grinning old wolf’s. The audience went wild. Short trip for them, he thought scathingly.
The high school band raised their instruments and broke into the ceremonial music from the end of the first “Star Wars” movie. That appeared to signal the end of the gathering. The crowd broke up, most headed toward the center square’s various eating establishments. Better that than him, Cochrane reckoned.
Oh Christ, here came the coyote, with Maureen at his side. Probably after the rest of his arm. The hunter tensed for battle.
“Mr. Cochrane,” Ewan said, amiably enough. “As long as everybody’s apologizing, I want to say I’m sorry for the bite. You sorry you tried to kill me?” Cochrane didn’t respond. The coyote shrugged. “Told you,” he said to Maureen.
“That’s why I didn’t take the bet. Sir?” Maureen addressed Cochrane. “I quit.” She walked off arm and arm with the coyote, now and forever a traitor to humanity. Picked a monster over her own kind. Typical woman.
Once he got his weapons back, she could die along with the rest of them.
“Mr. Cochrane.” Now that the mic was shut off, the Mayor also shut off his joviality. “You saved a ton of lives at the risk of your own, and we’re forever grateful. Just the same, I think it would be best all around if you left Talbot’s Peak right now and never came back. I’d even go so far as to say stay out of Montana altogether. There are plenty of other places in the world for you to ply your trade. I’m sure you can find one.”