by Hunter Blain
I was staring straight up and noticed the gargoyle was looking down on me from above. Both it and the church swirled in my vision. I could barely make out that it was perched at the very end of his platform and was shaking his tail in the air behind him, like a cat about to pounce.
There was a rustling sound several feet beside me, and I struggled to turn my head to see the angel golem pulling himself out of his crater. His lower half had shattered, and he walked on his hands toward me, slime-covered stone face expressionless but intent on me.
Seeing him crawling on his hands, I wheezed out, “Welcome to the club, McNubbins.”
Feeling exhausted and with everything broken or missing, I struggled to turn onto my stomach and start crawling in the opposite direction of the handicapped angel. The thought of two snails racing entered my mind, and a delirious smile upturned the corners of my mouth.
That’s when the handi-capable gargoyle decided to jump off his perch and land in front of me with an impact that made me bounce off the ground. All four of its paws imbedded deep into the earth, and he struggled to pull free, his eyes never leaving me.
I shifted course and crawled perpendicularly to my new stoner friends. Black dots drifted in my vision as I exerted myself. As I turned, I became aware of wet grass behind and under me. Precious blood squirted out of my torn leg. As quickly as I could, I focused everything I had in closing the grievous wound. The cords on my neck stood out, and my eyes were shut so hard I thought my cheeks and eyebrows were about to high-five. I felt the artery closing, but that was all I dared to do while in a high-speed pursuit with the golems.
There was a sloshing sound from behind as one of the paws was freed from the earth, breaking my concentration. Dread sunk in as I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop whoever was the winner of the “Murder John” race. I shook the fear out of my head momentarily and turned to start crawling again. I was barely able to keep my eyes open. My eyelids were so heavy, and promised a quick nap would fix everything. Only my ravenous hunger kept me on the verge of consciousness, refusing to give up before seeing if it was possible to drink an Olympic-sized pool full of fresh, steaming blood.
Keeping my head down, I put everything I had into escaping. My arms were made of jelly. My fingers could no longer flex, forcing me to rely solely on my palms. The world around me was becoming black around the edges.
There was another slosh from behind, and another. I dared not look back, keeping my focus on the ground directly beneath me.
My hand landed on a steel-toed boot, and I struggled on a popsicle-stick neck to look up. There were tree trunks of pure muscle attached to the boots. Even through the 5.11 tactical pants, I could see the sweeps of massive quads. My eyes kept climbing upward to a barrel chest and bulbous arms interlaced with veins the size of the Alaskan pipeline. Perched on top of the chest was a chiseled, well-groomed jaw.
“Dep…weg…” I sobbed in a burst of relief. Tears blurred what vision remained. I just wanted to roll him on his back and pet his belly until my hands fell off.
“You should have called, John,” Depweg said in a strong, deep voice, eyeing the statues.
“New phone…who dis?” I managed to get out before letting my face fall onto the grass.
There was another freeing sound from behind, followed by a gallop that reverberated through the ground, making my head bob up and down slightly.
The boots stepped over my disfigured body and walked confidently toward the approaching statue.
I propped a weakened forearm underneath my chin and looked over my shoulder as best I could, struggling to focus on Depweg.
The creature oriented on the new threat and continued to charge. All I could do was watch, helpless, as the giant stone monster grew closer. It had considerable size and immeasurable weight on Depweg. He should have just picked me up and ran.
When it was within pouncing distance, it leaped in the air, stone claws outstretched.
Using supernatural speed, Depweg grabbed one of its paws and turned 180 degrees, like a lumberjack swinging an axe at a downed log, and slammed the creature on the ground in front of him. There was a tremor at the impact, and the gargoyle shattered into grapefruit-sized rocks that tumbled in all directions. One rolled right up and smacked me in the Almond Joys. All I could do was laugh and say, “No way, man. No way,” as I gently rocked back and forth on the ground, grasping my supernaturally crushed gonads with my free hand.
Depweg, still holding the now severed, solid paw of the crumbled gargoyle, turned to the crawling angel. Without a moment’s thought—or even a witty remark—Depweg stepped forward with one leg and threw the paw at the angel with monstrous force, like a baseball pitcher who was also a freakishly strong werewolf. His aim was true, and the head of the angel exploded into dust. The rest of the body became motionless where it lay, hands still reaching out.
Relieved and still holding my downstairs mix up, I gave in to the demand of my eyelids and let them close, allowing the blackness to overtake me.
Chapter 28
Present day
I awoke to a bright light above me. My eyes fluttered, and I looked around to see a white, clean room with stainless instruments lying on small cloth-covered tables. The smell of fur hung heavy in the air, masked with cleaning supplies and bleach.
Depweg approached and laid a hand on my shoulder.
Squinting up at him, I said, “I thought they only took injured friends to the vet in the movies.”
“What, you thought you were my only friend, John? Typical narcissism. Doc,” Depweg said while shifting his gaze across the room, “guess we need to put him down.”
There was a chuckle from the other side of me, and a balding, white-haired man with glasses looked down at me. As he did so, he said, “Well, I guess I do have some garlic bread left in the fridge.”
“Ha!” I said victoriously, “Doesn’t work.” I noticed I had my energy back, which was curious. I still felt like an empty shell, but it was infinitely better than what I had just been through.
“In that case,” the doc said while turning to his instruments table, “maybe this will.” He showed me a glinting bone saw. “Infused with iron, of course.”
“Yeah, that’d about do it,” I said, shifting my gaze back to the light, completely aware I wasn’t in any form of control in this situation. I pulled my hands to my face and dragged them from my forehead to my chin, exhaling as I did. An IV stuck out of my hand, and I followed the red line up to a bag hanging from a metal stand.
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked down at the rest of me to assess the damage. My legs weren’t fully healed, but that was to be expected from blood that wasn’t straight from the well. However, they had grown several inches and had started sprouting tiny feet.
“Look at it this way, John,” Depweg started, “Think of all the money you’ll save from only having to buy Barbie shoes now.”
He took in a deep breath and bellowed a throaty laugh that could be felt as much as heard. Doctor Glasses giggled in short titters while covering his mouth with a closed fist.
Feeling stronger, I kicked my baby foot out and placed it under his nose in a fraction of a second. He was still laughing with his eyes closed when he stopped, nostrils flaring. He opened his eyes, and they grew wide with disgust.
“Kiss it,” I said, wiggling my microtoes, tickling the tip of his nose.
He shook his head and swatted at my foot while stepping backward, trying to flee from the horrible sight and delicious smell of my fetus-like appendage.
“Ah, Deppyweg, you know just how to make me feel sexy,” I mocked with pouty lips.
Depweg’s demeanor straightened as he said, “Glad to see the bags did their trick. We were concerned you were going to wake up in a blood rage.”
As he said it, the doctor put away the iron-infused tools. I stared with morbid understanding, and gulped.
“Me too, buddy. Me too,” I said. “Thanks for saving me, man. You’re the Westley to my Buttercup.
”
“You’re a terrible man, but I’d hate for you to die,” he mocked.
I didn’t smile or correct his movie reference. I just laid my head back down on the cool metal and closed my eyes. I was a terrible man.
Depweg’s voice interrupted my self-loathing, “Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?”
“How did you f—”
“Glad you asked,” Depweg interrupted. “Got a call from your bartender friend. It would seem that you’ve spoken about my canine sanctuary, openly, in his bar. A quick Google search and he had my business number.”
“Well, I only talked about you to him. Not like I have a lot of friends who hang out there,” I said, defensively.
“For future reference, I would appreciate not being mentioned in a supernatural hangout. My kind is considered a trophy, and there are some who would test their metal by hunting us,” Depweg informed. I looked at him, feeling embarrassed, and didn’t respond.
“But…” Depweg said, “this one time, I’m glad you did. I would have been your only pallbearer, and that would have been difficult.” He smiled warmly.
“I’m surprised Val called you. He seemed pretty upset with me,” I said.
“He was, but when no one had heard from you for a few nights, he decided it was time to bring in the big guns,” Depweg said while flexing his massive twenty-inch arms.
I laughed, and it hurt my everything.
“Knew I’d get ya to smile, bloodsucker,” Depweg said, punching my arm playfully.
“Bone licker,” I countered just before a thought entered my mind. “How did you know I was at the church?”
“Val told me the direction you were heading based off his security cameras, and mentioned the only other place you openly talk about is the church. I followed your path and found some scent trails. Then I saw a building that could only be the church you had so fondly described. It definitely looked as if it had been made just for little ol’ you,” he finished with a smile.
“How did you know he had me in the catacombs?” I asked, perplexed. “Your nose can’t be that good, man.”
“I’m not telling if it is or isn’t, for fear you’ll go and tell everyone who will listen!” Depweg joked. “The truth is I searched the grounds until I was certain your scent ended at the church. Then I waited.”
“Why didn’t you try to break in?” I asked.
“I could sense the traps the father had placed. Plus, I knew he was your friend, and I didn’t think you were in any real trouble.”
My mind flashed to the special John Room that was my cell, and I shuddered.
“Imagine my amazement when I saw you flying off the roof with a freaking statue, of all things,” Depweg said, amused. “They really wanted you, brother.”
“They were obviously girl statues. Happens all the time. Sometimes I’ll just be walking down the street, and a mob of women—”
“Will cross to the other side of the street?” Depweg finished, interrupting me.
“Oh, Depweg, it’s almost as if we finish each other’s…” I said, leaving a moment of silence at the end and waving my hand in the air like reeling in a fish.
“Sandwiches, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes.
I sat up on the table, letting my baby feet dangle off the side, kicking to and fro. My eyes fixated on the floor in front of me. “Did…” I began, “Did Val tell you anything?”
“No,” said Depweg.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“But Da did,” he said while staring directly at me, expressionless.
I looked up at him in shock, mouth open.
“I went by your house first, just to cross it off my list. Da was there, cleaning up what looked like a night to remember.”
“What did he say?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“The truth,” he replied. “That you lost control and made some mistakes. He was pretty upset, but was also worried. He confirmed that you could only be at the bar or the church.”
“Am I really that boring?” I asked. “I mean, sometimes I go to the movies, and stuff.”
He rested a hand on my shoulder. I met his eyes. There was understanding in them.
“You aren’t mad at me? Everyone else is,” I said, defeated.
“I’m a werwolf, John,” he said, using the German wording again. “Losing control is something I know a lot about. To feel the call of the primal rip you from the pilot seat.”
I barked out a quick laugh and pointed at him. “I use a similar metaphor!” I told him with a beaming smile and wide eyes.
Depweg smiled again and patted my shoulder before letting his hand fall back to his side.
“Now then,” he said, “how about you rest at my place while Da fixes up your house? I have the newest John Wick movie on Blu-ray.”
“Lair,” I corrected him. “House sounds so…white picket fence and stuff,” I said, trying to find the right words. “But a lair, mmm, yes.”
Depweg paid the doctor with a stack of cash, shook his hand, and headed for the door. I put on my coat, which dragged on the floor behind me, like a kid wearing his dad’s clothes. The doctor gave me a medical bag filled with bloody rags and bandages.
“Figured you’d want to dispose of these yourself, personally,” the doc said with a smile and using a terrible Sylvester Stallone voice.
“Judge Dredd,” I said without hesitation. “Give me a challenge next time,” I finished with a wink.
I hopped off the table and landed on my adorable little nubs and started walking, swaying to the sides and pivoting at the hip until my knee caps grew back.
As we walked, I looked up at a now towering Depweg and asked, “Seriously, why didn’t anyone tell Stallone that his redundant statement was, well, redundant?”
Depweg smiled and chuckled a few times, always entertained by my theatrically based commentary.
We got into Depweg’s reinforced Jeep and took off. I was ready to relax. But first, I needed a drink.
Chapter 29
Present day
“Pull down this street and slow down,” I told Depweg. He did so with a wrinkle in his brow, compliant but confused.
“I need to eat,” I informed him, pulling my legs up with my hands and wiggling my baby toes. “This is one of my favorite parts of town. I call it the ol’ fishing hole.”
We crossed an intersection with a group of savory characters standing around a car listening to loud, verbally suggestive music. “Pull over here and turn on your emergency lights.”
Depweg did, trusting me. “Pop your hood, and for Lilith’s sake, stay in the car. You’ll scare the fishies!”
I got out of the jeep and wobbled adorably to the front, cringing as my ancient duster dragged on the ground behind me. Climbing up on the bumper and lifting the hood, I stared at the engine and cursed.
“Ah, jeez!” I said loudly. “The gosh darn flux capacitor is busted!” I normally wore a reflective Movado watch made of tungsten when I fished, showing it off by keeping one hand on the hood and letting the sleeve of my duster slide down. Since this had been an impromptu hunt, I’d left it at home in my hopefully not-flooded dresser. Fishies loved shiny things.
Instead, I pulled out my wallet and fanned out my cash and asked loudly, “How much is it for a tow truck?”
The fishies, who had been pointing and laughing at my nubs, stopped talking. I reached out with my senses and could feel them behind me. One had been sitting on the car but now was standing up, looking around at his friends to make sure they were all on the same page.
“That’s it,” I whispered. “Come to mommy…I mean, daddy.”
“Heard that,” Depweg stated from the driver’s seat.
“Shit,” was my only response.
“Yup,” he said while audibly unlocking his cell phone, uninterested in the outstanding citizens approaching from behind.
With my back to the gentlemen, I let my wallet fall to the ground and loudly cried out, “Oh noes! My wallet full o
f monies! Can anyone help me!”
“Say, homie,” said one in perfect elocution. “I think I can help wit dat.” He bent over to scoop up my wallet.
A smile spread across my face, and then I let it drop to feigned sorrow. I dropped to the ground and turned to face them. I reached out my hand palm up, giving him the chance to return the wallet.
He smiled at me instead and asked, “What else you got, McNubbins?”
The irony was not lost on me with that comment.
In a sheepish voice, I said, “No…nothing, sirs. I just need my wallet for my grandma’s operation.” My hand was still outstretched.
The thug pulled out my cash and pocketed it, handing me back my wallet and saying, “Here ya go, fool. As requested.” His posse laughed and spread out, surrounding me. There were five of them. The leader had a bald head with tattoos on his face and neck. He wore a white hoodie and Adidas athletic pants.
The others had on various clothes that had clearly been bought at the same shop, or taken from someone’s house. Tattoos were prominent, as were gold necklaces. I was somewhat impressed that the races were mixed. Progress, I thought to myself.
One of the blood jugs reached down and seized my arms from behind while another kneeled down and started riffling through my clothes.
A toothy, predatory smile crossed my face, and I headbutted the fool in front of me, sending an eruption of blood in all directions around his nose. His hands reached up to grasp his broken smeller, and the other gents pulled out switchblades, except the leader. He pulled out a Springfield 1911 and pointed it directly at me.
“Can we hurry this up, John?” Depweg asked from the driver’s seat, followed by laughter and the sound of the like button being pressed. “Puppies playing with a tennis ball,” he said to himself while chuckling. “That ball’s too big for you, fella.”