Penn’s return to duty

Penn reported to work two days later, and sat waiting for the morning briefing to start. So far she only suffered from minimal grumbles from her stomach this morning. She was feeling better than she had in days, and the shit she’d had that morning was satisfying. That coupled with her not vomiting since the Doc had come to check her out put her in a more agreeable mood.

“Feeling better this morning,” remarked Roy Valdez, her partner, as he joined her at their table. He spoke like he wasn’t surprised to see her, and it was just a statement of fact. “You finished shitting and vomiting your brains out or are you waiting till we bust someone and then puke on them to make them melt? You know I had to deal with that poor dog you gooeyed up, right? At least tell me your shit schedule is back on track.”

“My shit sched-, the fuck are you talking about?” Penn rolled her eyes before scowling at him. “We’re not that close, Officer Valdez, for you to be worried about my hell-shit.” Penn’s whisper was sharp, and her eyes flared at him, showing the hell-rage building inside of her. She leaned forward slightly. “Don’t take liberties you don’t have an entitlement to take, Egenite.” She spoke in their native language, reminding him of his place in the pecking order of Hell’s legions. As an Asmodeus Penn had that right to remind him of his place.

Instead of putting Valdez’s familiarity to bed for the moment, he pressed harder. “You’re fucking sick, Penn. Social pecking order be blessed, but we are about to go out on the street, and you shitting yourself or puking on a perp or just as bad, a citizen, is really a big deal at this moment.”

Penn looked around the room at day-shift officers filing into the briefing room in ones and twos or sitting discussing whatever with each other. She cared nothing for them now, she only wanted to silence Roy Valdez’s criticism.

“Shut your mouth.” She reached under the table and squeezed his leg hard enough to make him wince from her emerging, piercing nails. “I’m fine, I had a great shit this morning, okay. My stomach isn’t upset, I’m back on track. Fuck, why is this such a big deal? Let. It. Go. Valdez.” Penn gripped harder to get her point across.

“Alright,” he answered, prying her hand from his leg. It took a lot of strength to remove her hand. She relaxed her grip strength as he gripped her wrist and moved her hand away from his thigh. “Alright. I’ll keep quiet.” He looked back toward the front of the room, and then whipped his head back to her suddenly. “Actually, I’ll let it go for the mo, but you’re ate the Heaven up, and you know it,” he hissed.

“Asshole,” she muttered, beginning to drum her fingers on the table. At that moment, she felt antsy, anxious even, but couldn’t put her finger on why. She balled her hand into a fist once she realized that her manicured nails were tearing divots into the coated press board tabletop.

She rubbed at the marks in a lame attempt to wipe them away. It did nothing, and she knew it would. In that moment Captain Espinoza entered the room as she gave up on trying to make the marks disappear.

Captain Felicia Espinoza took her post at the podium and greeted the gathered cops, waiting to get to their assigned patrols. She eyed Penn critically, and addressed her personally, asking if she was up to going out on patrol.

“I’m good, Captain,” Penn answered, sitting straighter in her seat. “Just a forty-eight-hour stomach bug.”

Espinoza was a good cop, bordering on great. And she was human. She had no affiliation with either side. In fact, her loyalties lay with upholding the law. Espinoza was a firm believer in the law. God, the angelic hosts, and Satan and his legions meant nothing to her. And she let everyone know her beliefs were not only the standard to uphold, but to live by.

“Right,” Espinoza answered. “On to business.”

Espinoza went into the highlights of what needed to be looked for during the dayshift and the commissioner’s and mayor’s initiatives to be more proactive in making sure various offenses was dealt with on a case-by-case basis. To Penn the initiatives meant more face-to-face human interactions she didn’t want to deal with at the best of times. At the end of the day, the individual officer was left with the unenviable position of trying to leave the population with a more favorable view of the LAPD. To Penn it just meant more listening to excuses, whining, and overall general human behavior of trying to get out of trouble or potentially get someone into trouble.

“End of the day we’ll use our best, most reasonable, judgement on when and how we act and react. Questions?” Espinoza leaned forward, her hands gripping the sides on the podium.

“How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?” whispered Valdez softly.

“You say that every time. Find new material,” Penn whispered back.

“It’s a classic. Never gets old,” he responded as Espinoza vacated the podium.

She rose from her seat, as the others did to go pick up equipment from the equipment room.

“Penn. A moment.” Sergeant Stork stepped to block her exit from the room. Penn and Valdez were the last to leave by Penn’s design. She had rightfully assumed that Stork would surely take an interest in her current health and welfare.

“Just to be clear. You’re good to go, right? No more defecating on yourself, or forcefully expelling stomach juices on any unfortunate strays?” Stork crossed her arms across her chest.

“By Belial and all the crap he gets into,” she quietly exclaimed. She stared sternly into Stork’s face. “I’m good, and I did not crap myself, Sergeant. Why is that a thing that it appears everyone is familiar with happening to me?”

“And the dog? How about that poor creature? I can’t stand dogs on general principle, but that… that was pretty grotesque, and it took pointless suffering to a new level. Regardless, can I look forward to having your partner go out and clean up another Hell-spawned crime scene? By the way, Officer Valdez, good job on that, thank you, and now, you can head to your shop. You and I are good here.”

Valdez nervously cleared his throat. “If it’s all the same, Sergeant Stork. I’d like to stay. Penn’s my partner and what affects her-”

“Get to your shop, pissant,” Stork said, and then opened her mouth slightly. She looked like she had been caught in a thought mid-sentence, but that wasn’t what was happening. Different items around the briefing room began to vibrate as the low frequency subsonic noise from her mouth grew in intensity.

Chairs and tables jittered gently, and the room’s overhead lights swayed slightly, and the glass fluorescent bulbs groaned strangely from the audible assault. The glass partition separating the hall from the room flexed against the invisible force.

Penn and Valdez both squinted their eyes in unison. Their teeth were gritted against the sound and their lips peel back, revealing their true filed to points orthodontic nature. It took a considerable effort of will to not put their hands over their ears. The atmosphere in the room was difficult to explain away to a human witness. Explaining why they were reacting to a sound only canines, and supernatural beings should hear would be impossible.

“Show me in route,” Valdez answered before hastily leaving. “Meet you outside, Boss.” His jibe to Stork, showing where his fluid loyalties lay at that moment was weak at best, but it was in Roy’s nature to try to be a smartass.

“You’re a decent cop, Penelope, but you’re a great demon. Hell and Heaven, you’re one of the original daemons. You fought on Glory Hill in the big push for Secession. Received a blessing from Luci himself for your viciousness and bravery during that engagement. Now this, whatever this is, isn’t you. Calling out sick, vomiting on curs so bad you turn them into meat jam, and shitting yourself while in uniform. Goddamn it, we may be here to undermine this existence, but we have standards,” Penn was about to speak, but Stork held up a finger to halt her, “Standards, both demon and not least of all human.”

“Sarge,” Penn answered sternly, “I did not drop a deuce in my pants. Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Probably because it’s funny as shit, forgive the pun, to cops.” Stork looked away contemplating what she’d just said, “Hell, that’s the way it is to most humans. You know how much they love their poop humor.” Stork snapped her head back up. “You binged borscht again, didn’t you? Is that why you got sick? What is in that mess that you eat?”

“Does everyone know my life as well as I do?” Penn felt exasperated at having her food preferences questioned, let alone everyone seeming to know what her favorite human foods were.

“Yeah, we know you love that stuff. Everyone know.” Stork waved the comment away before continuing. Whatever. Now, look me in the eyes and tell me, honestly, for what it’s worth, that you are solid to RTD from sick leave.”

“I’m solid, and it was only a couple of days sick.”

“You were sick. Period. How often does it need to be said, we don’t get sick?”

“I’m good. I’m solid.” Penn reiterated her statement with as much confidence as she could muster. She hoped she looked the part as much has she thought she did. “I’d like to go out on patrol, now, Sergeant.” Penn’s stomach grumbled, and then knotted before the words died in the air.

“Sure you are,” said Stork, glancing down at her stomach. “Get out of here. Get breakfast, or whatever.”

Penn calmly left the room before Stork, and then made a beeline for the second-floor bathroom. She praised whatever demons, saints or even djinn responsible that the bathroom was unoccupied at the moment she needed the privacy.

Grasping the sides of the sink, she dry heaved until her throat burned. Nothing was expelled, and Penn wasn’t sure if she should be grateful, or worried. She decided on thankful as she cleaned her face and straightened her uniform. Before she turning away from the mirror, she contemplated her bowel situation and made a disgusted face.

 Satan on the throne, she thought, returning to the mirror. She checked her bun, smoothed down her shirt, and straightened her duty belt once more. Now, I’m judging my shit habits like a human. Am I going native? Fucking-

A knock on the door disturbed her introspection.

“Are you done in there,” asked a decidedly female voice on the other side.

“Almost done,” Penn announced before pausing to stare into the mirror once more. She closed took a deep breath to steady her mind and reopened them.

For a moment, the briefest of instances, she had seen her true form, but not as a demon alone. Her reflection cast a female version of her demon face. If she was going to be honest, it was a sexier version of her natural face. The brief glimpse told Penn the reflection was very nearly a human induced sexual fantasy, a caricature of what humans thought female demons looked like.

The image was imprinted on her brain, now. It was that overly attractive red faced, demon horned pointy eared image that was something some weeaboo, Japanese obsessed basement dweller would lust after.

The image memory was only compounded by the fact that it was just her face, arms and hands she had seen. The second most shocking portion of the image was that she could see her police uniform covering her as it normally did. It wasn’t what she would normally see in a mirror. Normally that consisted of hooves, a brutal looking muscular body, horns, and sharp severe facial features. Reflections were always either that or the human form if she willed it. If anything, the uniform’s short sleeves in the mirror had indicated that the perceived alluring image was all of her at that moment in time. All of that coupled with an LAPD uniform said to perverts everywhere and on every plane of existence to come-fuck-me-now. Or at least jerk off to my image. That thought gave her a violent shudder. Penn hated pervs. They were the worst of humans who dabbled in non-violent transgressions as far as she was concerned.

The sight repulsed her the moment she thought she had seen it. The disgust quickly mingled with the subconscious possibility that the reflected look wasn’t altogether worthy of shunning. The disgust continued to fight for superiority over fascination as another more urgent knock came at the door.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to use the bathroom,” said the voice again.

Penn opened the door, and came face to face with a very human, very pregnant female.

“I’m sorry about that,” Penn said, looking to the pregnant woman’s stomach. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Not a big deal,” answered the woman as she side-stepped Penn into the bathroom. “Being close to eight months along makes peeing more urgent. Little bastard is dancing on my bladder.” The woman smiled at Penn as she began to close the door. “You might experience the blessed hell of pregnancy one day, if you haven’t already.”

“Yeah,” Penn said again, turning away. “Not yet, and only if I’m unlucky and Hell freezes over.”

House call for the damned, Penn

Penn felt like she’d been asleep for hours, but it had only been for a little more than one. The doorbell chiming again and again in between the incessant knocks, bordering on pounding had brought her back to consciousness.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and wiped her mouth. Gummy vomit dragged itself onto her hand and sleeve. The uniform sleeve sizzled lightly as it interacted with the acidic vomit residue. She looked to her left and saw the rug that had been leading from the front door to the living room had been eaten away. As a matter of fact, so had the hardwood floor.

She’d vomited in her unconsciousness and her home had paid for it. She could see down to the concrete pad. The cement had been eaten away somewhat, leaving a cracked and slightly steaming mess that would need to be fixed.

The knocking stopped as did the bell ringing and she forced her body up to see who had deigned to bother her.

“That’s right. The Doc’s coming,” she hissed looking out of the window beside the door.

She hurriedly pulled the door open and was about to run out to stop Doc when she realized that the front of her uniform shirt was ruin, as well her bra. She pulled the two sides of her shirt together and weakly called after Doc.

Doc had just opened the door to her new Mercedes GLA. She turned and glared at her before slamming the door shut and resetting the alarm.

She looked like a younger Mary McDonnell except with jet black hair and a constant scowl. There was nothing pleasant in her face at any time, with the exception of making money and enlarged fake breasts, lips, and other body parts at her practice as a plastic surgeon. She resent seeing the demons under her care at the best of times and this visit was costing her the monthly payment of vacation house in Milan, Italy.

“Well, look who decided to show up. I take time out of my already busy day and you don’t bother answering the door.” Doc walked briskly toward Penn, who had retreated three steps into her house. Doc’s high heeled shoes clicking on the cobble stoned walk, emphasizing how put out she felt. “This isn’t what I had in mind from a member of our illustrious police department. Are you taking a side job as a stripper?”

Doc pushed Penn further into the living room with the fingertips of her right hand. Once satisfied that Penn was in far enough, she turned and slammed the door shut.

“Sit,” commanded Doc, pushing Penn onto her couch.

“For the love of- “Penn didn’t get a chance to finish her declaration. She lurched toward the hole in the floor and vomited once more. Specks of vomit ate new holes where they landed and the concrete below the floor steamed anew. The sizzling and popping made Penn more nauseous.

“Dammit, Doc. I’m…” Penn trailed off and burped. It was loud and disgusting even to her.” I’m sick.”

Penn eased herself back onto the couch.

“I’d say you are,” commented Doc, taking a step back. She set her medical kit on the coffee table and pulled out a small flashlight and tongue depressor. “You may call me, Doctor Nightingale. Doc sounds like I should be a Marine corpsman, or part of a biker gang. I’m damned to do this for free so least you can do is show some Goddamned respect. Open.”

Doc tapped Penn on the forehead with her tongue depressor.

“Ahhhhh,” groaned Penn as Doc examined her throat.

“Now that’s a nice piece of ass there. Your throat is raw as, well, no sense using overdone similes. It’s bad.”

Doc felt Penn’s throat and listened to her two hearts, and four lungs. “Nothing abnormal there. Lay back, lift your shirt up.”

“Going the human route of examine, Doc…tor Nightingale?”

“Hm,” grumped Doc. “We have their appearance so the parts are interchangeable somewhat. I’m about to check your stomach. Is your toilet ceramic or porcelain?”

“Ceramic. You want a bowel sample too?”

“No, smartass, but if you vomit while I’m prodding I don’t want you spewing all over the place like a cheap whore version of Linda Blair.”

Penn grunted, choosing to ignore the unsubtle insult as she pulled her shirt up and laid on the couch.

Doc’s eyes narrowed as she pushed on Penn’s abdomen and sides.

“Your stomach is hard. When was the last time you had a bowel movement?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Borscht again?”

Penn nodded.

“You know how that always gets you, and yet you do eat it.”

“It’s good.”

“Some say communism was good too and look where that is.”

“Spare me, will you?” Penn forced herself upright, pushing Doc away.

“Are you going to vacate your stomach again? This blouse cost more than you make in week.” Doc stood with her arms folded. The statement of fact held little venom and to Penn it seemed forced.

“No. I just wanted to sit up.”

“I need some blood.”

“Don’t we all,” joked Penn. She rested her forehead in her hands as Doc turned to her bag and pulled out a needle, three vials, and sterile swabs.

“You’re laughing now. Roll your sleeve up.”

Penn did as she was told, and Doc tied off Penn’s bicep and swabbed her arm with the iodine wipes before tossing them carelessly onto the coffee table.

Penn’s skin resisted the needle at first, but soon gave with a faint pop.

“Depleted uranium?” asked Penn.

“Diamond tipped depleted uranium. I want to make sure I get what I’m after. Not cheap by any definition of the word, but worth it for us. I don’t use them often, but when I do…”

Doc drew the samples, pressed a cotton ball onto Penn’s puncture mark, and released the rubber tie off from her arm.

“You’re sick,” announced Doc with no small amount of pride.

“No. Say it isn’t so,” responded Penn. She held her arm above her head and sneered at Doc.

“No, smartass. You’re really sick. I’ve never seen anything like this. Remember that time Gresland over at Rosemont was sick from sleeping with that slattern that swore she was a third level virgin, but she was gutter gash from the fifth?”

“Gresland from Sheriff’s?”

“No, that’s Grusman. Gresland’s Fire Rescue. Anyway, what he got ate his member and balls away. And then what he contracted made it into his lower intestine before I could stop it. I should have let it kill him as the price for his stupidity.”

“I remember now. Didn’t everyone call him sizzle dick for the longest time?”

“Still do.” Doc dropped the samples into a specimen bag and zipped it closed.

“Demonic STDs. Who knew?” Penn chuckled and burped. A small splash of stomach acid burned the back of her throat.

“Happens more than you think. We’re down here.” Doc stood, closed her kit, and moved to the door. She snapped her fingers and a piece of paper appeared between her thumb and forefinger. She returned to Penn and laid it on the coffee table.

“This is a doctor’s note for the next week, should you need it. I will visit you in the next one to two days with the results of your blood work, and to see if you are recovering. In the meantime, plenty of rest, clear liquids, and no borscht. Definitely no borscht. Oh,” exclaimed Doc, snapping her fingers again. A Tootsie Roll pop appeared. “A treat for being a good girl.” She tossed it to Penn.

Penn caught it and grimaced at the bad joke.

“I’m almost 5 millennia old.”

“Really? Well wah. I’m one of the original fallen, but you don’t see me bragging about it.”

“You just did.”

“Hmph. Regardless, see you in two days at the outside. Good day, Officer.”

“Same to you, Doc,” belched Penn accompanied by a wet heaving stomach as the door closed.

 

Sick Penn

Valdez drove cautiously back to the station, trying not to jostle Penn and her stomach any more than he had to. He wanted to hit the siren and lights, but he thought the motion of speed would make matters worse. Even 45 miles per hour was too much.

“Stop the car, Roy,” she said weakly.

“Can’t you hold it in?” Roy made a sour face at the smell that erupted from her mouth as she belched.

“Just stop the Goddamned car, Roy,” she said with more urgency.

Roy pulled into a back alley next to an empty lot. He stepped out and looked around, wanting to make sure no one saw an LA cop spew her guts let alone a demon.

“Make it quick. I don’t want to hang around her too long.” He came around to the passenger and stood impatiently, arms akimbo.

Penn wanted to tell him to shut it, but her stomach lurched and she gagged at a dry heave.

That’s when the dog appeared. The dog had been rooting around in the alley, perhaps looking for something to eat or looking to defecate. He approached her hopefully and sniffed at Penn. It quickly let loose a mix of a whine and a growl and moved around to Roy.

“Piss off, Lassie.”

Roy gave a kick at the canine. The dog jumped away. It paced back and forth, whining hungrily as it smelled the remains of Valdez’s bratwurst.

“Go aw-,“ was all Penn could say before the black green eruption flowed from her mouth. The dog danced away almost avoiding the mess. It landed on it’s back end and it scampered a few feet before collapsing.

Even with its flesh melting off it tried to crawl away from the two officers. The dog’s cries and whines were growing louder.

Penn didn’t care about the dog’s misery. She had her own to deal with and even her heightened hearing was oblivious to it.

“Magog screamed,” cursed Roy, moving toward the dog. He snapped out his Asp as another stream of vomit erupted from Penn. He jumped away, but not before getting a small splatter on his shoes. The leather steamed and sizzled.

Without thinking he rubbed the shoe on the back of his pants. The small ate away at the pants’ fabric and into his flesh.

“What in Hell,” he muttered still walking to the dog. “That fucking burns. Fuck, Penn. What did you eat?”

He stood over the dog and felt a moments pity for it. “Sorry, dude. Helluva way to die.” He brought the baton down on the dog’s head, crushing it.

He rejoined Penn, choosing to stay next to the car’s rear bumper. He looked at the mass of sick as it evaporated away, leaving a crater of bubbling concrete that slowly cooled.

Instinctively he rested his foot on the cruiser’s bumper and pulled his pants leg. The smear had put a small hole in his pants and sock, leaving a scar on his skin.

“Feel better?” he said, putting his foot back on the ground. “I sure hope so because you’re going to see the Doc.”

“I’m good,” Penn said, leaning back into the seat. “I’m feeling better.”
“Yeah, I bet. You know our spew isn’t supposed to hurt us. I’m saved if I’ve ever seen anything like that. I mean, your mess burned me, Penn. That’s not normal.” He pulled his pants leg up and pulled the sock down. “Look at it.”

“Scars give character.” Penn licked her lips and sucked in breath.

“Get your leg in,” said Valdez, slamming the door shut.

“What about that?” Penn pointed to the dog’s body. Its rear and back legs were gone. The front half lay in the alley, advanced decomposition was already setting in to the exposed back.

“Not my problem. I should make you deal with it.” He started the car and drove down the alley and back to the street.

Stork met them at the gas pumps. She didn’t look pleased at all and she let Valdez and Penn know it before Valdez even put the car in park.

“One less unit on the streets thanks to you two,” Stork said, moving to Penn’s side of the car. “Why’d you report in if you were sick? Shit, we don’t even get sick.”

“I gave her the speech, Sarge,” said Valdez. “She’s sick alright, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. She melted concrete and a dog.”
“I don’t want to know.” Stork paused. “You know what? I think I do. What in God’s name happened?”
“You kiss your master’s hooves with that mouth?” Penn looked up at Stork and grinned limply. She took a sip of water and tried grinning wider.

“Really? Keep quiet, Typhoid Mary. The adults are talking.”

Roy gave her the run down on what had happened. Stork’s demeanor remained stern even during the overly descriptive remarks on the dog’s post mortem appearance.

“You guys are a mess.” She looked at Penn. “Are your keys in your locker? The plan is, Roy’s gonna drive you home. While he’s doing that, I’m going to put a call in to the Doc, and he’ll ascertain what’s gone wrong with you. Copy?

“Copy, Sergeant Stork.”

Stork glanced at Roy, Roy shrugged.

“Useless, the both of you. Get her home.”

The drive home was uneventful, much to Penn’s relief. She didn’t sick up any more and she was grateful not to chance ruining her car. Thank Satan for small favors, she mused as they pulled into her driveway.

“You gonna make it to the door okay?” asked Roy, putting the car into park and rolling up the windows.

“I don’t see you getting out to help me.”

“Geez no. You’re on your own. I just wanted to give the impression of helpfulness and caring. You know, doing the serve portion of our motto.” He opened the car door and stood, waiting for her to exit so he could lock it. He tossed Penn her keys. She caught them, only fumbling once

“You’re a peach, Roy.”

She opened the door, took the keys and walked slowly to her door.

“Get some sleep, Penn,” called Roy as she unlocked her door and entered. She could hear the true sincerity in her voice even as the remembered image of him shooting her flooded her conscious mind.

Penn closed her front door as a police siren chirped and she heard Stork’s impatient voice calling for Valdez.

“C’mon, Valdez. You have to catch baddies and not whatever she has.”

Penn leaned against the door, weakly removing her duty belt. She threw it onto the couch in her living room, took a step, and collapsed. Sleep overtook her once more.

 

 

Lost Penn

I’m still toying with the same idea of a string of chapters featuring a demon who is a cop. I had the first one set out, introducing her and her partner, and setting the stage for her world and current dilemma, but damned if I can find it. I thought I had posted it here, but it’s nowhere to be found, and it isn’t on my writing flash drive. I’ll keep looking, or I’ll just write it again. Writing about Officer Penelope Penn has been refreshing to me. I’m enjoying it. I hope some of you enjoy it as well.

Welcome to the new age, welcome to new age, came the song from a tinny radio somewhere in Penn’s past as gazed out onto the scorched landscape. She could feel the heat from the desert like cityscape that had once been one of the greatest cities on the planet. She spread her wings and howled defiance into the blasted arid air, her fists clenched over her head. It felt to good to be alive and better to be… a conqueror? She wasn’t sure what she was glad of.

She stepped down from the rubble of a ruined building onto the cracked concrete. She looked around, scowling at the street filled with wreckage from the day when Heaven and Hell waged war on each other with humankind trapped between. She thought of taking to the skies but opted instead to walk along the deserted and crumbling streets.

Penn’s heavy boots thumped rhythmically on the pavement. The cityscape gave her no end of things for her steel capped boots to strike against. She paused at the intersection of De Longpre and Vine, eyeballing a mass of destroyed police cars. The majority of the police vehicles were twisted and burnt out from the blasts from some human weapons or other worldly power. The officers that had been here had made a stand against the… demonic?… angelic?… she couldn’t remember exactly who they’d stood against, but they’d died in a weak attempt to hold back the attackers until some military force from up or down the coast could reinforce them.

Penn approached the destroyed barricade of vehicles. A rusted badge here, slagged weapons there, and bits of skeletal remains and tattered uniforms still sporadically littered the area. Penn began to feel loss as she surveyed the battle scene. She felt there was a holiness about the place even though the last human that had been here had died two years ago.

She paused at an open twisted door of what was once a Crown Victoria. The trunk lay open, it’s shop number dingy, but still visible. She moved along the body, smiling as she ran the clawed index finger of her left hand across the seal of the city of Los Angeles. She paused at the barely visible phrase that was once printed on all the department’s car doors; “to protect and to serve.” Melancholy was one of the many emotions that had a scent to demons, and her nose curled subconsciously at her own sad scent wafting from her body. She snarled at her weakness and slashed through the words, her claws tearing through the steel. And then the world became a fiery and chaotic mess once more.

Penn hadn’t been aware of the scent of humans, or any living thing. She’d been stupidly wrapped up in her own reminisces. The anti-tank warhead detonated right in front of her. The blast sent her barrel rolling backwards, and the car flipped away from her. Machine gun fire filled her existence even before she landed on the ground.

The impact of the rounds hurt, and more than a couple of them gouged her skin. The marks would heal in a few moments, but if they were to be joined with something heavier… And there it was. The hollow metallic whoomph, whoomph, whoomph of an M38A1 grenade launcher being fired. Whoever was behind the trigger was making use of all six cylinders. The rounds were high explosive and they did hurt. Demons weren’t invulnerable, and the humans had learned very nearly too late how to rapidly switch up weapons systems to hurt demons and angels. The remnants of humanity fought to keep hope alive. They did it even in the face of what they thought of as ethereal protectors and underworldly destroyers battled each other, disregarding everything and everyone else. Demons used to care less about humans than angels. Now the feeling was mutual, and now one of the three factions were coming after her.

Penn rolled away and scrambled to safety behind the corner of a bank. She pushed her back up against the wall as she edged away from the now larger caliber machine gun rounds punching chunks off the corner of her shelter.

“She’s on the move!” came a human voice. “Flank her, flank her!”

Penn spread her wings and flapped, gaining meager altitude before her right wing screamed out at its lack of aerodynamic integrity. She tumbled to the ground, kicking up dust and small chunks of concrete with her landing. “Baal dammit,” she grunted as she stood, and began to run.

“Contact! Seventy-five meters! Seventy-five meters!” called someone behind her. She felt the rounds slam into her back before the voice reached her. It had to be left over military hunting her because that had felt like a squad automatic weapon. The rounds that hit her were followed closely by another anti-tank weapon. Its ordinance launched her forward, sending her sliding across the ground.

“Air support inbound! Take cover! Get small!”

Penn desperately crawled forward as attack ceased and multiple rifles were reloaded. At least four were surrounding her, closing, with an additional four more scents close behind. The plotting of her enemies’ locations took only a second before she heard the sound of air rushing around a figure coming straight down on top of her. She willed her battered body to move faster to escape, not liking the new scent that met her nostrils.

She disliked the impact of the figure onto her back even less. It felt like a house had been dropped on her, and she knew that she was beyond hurt, now. She was utterly decimated. Penn had heard her vertebrae shatter, and the pain was of a magnitude that she had thought lesser beings suffered, and not Otherworlders like her. Her hubris was high in that regard. Angels had died, demons had too, at the hands of mortals. She never considered that she could suffer like those. They’d been weak, not her.

Whoever or whatever had landed on her grabbed her around the back of her neck, grasped the compromised wing with the other hand, and ripped it from her shoulder blade. It might’ve hurt if the pain of her back hadn’t been so damned excruciating.

She felt herself spin through the air and crashed into a small structure across the street. She was sure it was a Metro bus shelter. It had borne the LA Public Transit logo complete with a smiling family on a poster, staring at her. “Oh,” she said, smiling through the dark black red blood pouring from her head and mouth. “Didn’t mean to disturb your outing.” I’m going into shock. I have to be, she thought. Why else would I say something so stupid?

The being grabbed her right horn, broke it off and punched her hard enough to knock out a few teeth. How could she be hurt so badly? She was a demon. A fifth level demon at that. She’d just been promoted and had gained more power. She was now a Marchosias. That didn’t matter to her attacker apparently. Another punch collided with her left eye socket followed by another against her right check. She felt the bones in both places splinter.

“Get back, sir,” called a voice that felt brave enough to be close enough for her to smell the arrogance in its form and to smell the ham omelet MRE it had before the mission. He was close enough for her to smell it all through her blood.

“You get back,” spat the voice with rank hatred. “She’s mine. I have a personal beef with this one.” The voice sounded painfully familiar. She heard the sound of someone spitting on her and felt warm thick liquid on her eyes. Thumbs worked the spit into her eyes, trying to clear them of the blood. “Canteen,” commanded the familiar voice.

“Sir, we don’t-” protested the human voice, trying to regain control of a situation where it was the support and not the main force.

“Water,” bellowed the familiar voice once more. “Now!”

Penn never would have thought it possible, but the tepid water felt wonderful on her face. The thumbs worked her eyes and then her forehead. She opened her eyes and grinned at the hazy figure. “Mommy, I don’t want to go to school today,” she said, trying to sound clever and defiant. The figure rabbit punched her in the chest. She gasped, grimaced, coughed, and then looked up. She grinned once more out of concession that she was about to die by her former friend’s hands. The being forced her to sit up. Her back felt funny, and not in a humorous way. She fought to move her feet, but nothing responded to her will.

“Hello, Gythsmeda. How’s it going today? Good?” She coughed weakly and was aware that blood was filling a lung. It felt collapsed or very close to it. “Can’t believe He made us like them, can you?”

The demonic figure before her blurred and was replaced by a Hispanic male in his late twenties, wearing a Los Angeles Police uniform. “My name’s Valdez. Officer Raul Valdez, remember, Officer Penn?”

“And my name is Penfralia Apoclium, Gythsmeda.”

Valdez tossed her head back and took a step like he wanted to kick her in the face. Penn smiled as wide as she could. The act released a river of darker blood from her mouth.

“To Heaven with this. Give me my Beretta.” Valdez held his hand out, waggling his fingers impatiently.

A soldier stepped up, handing Valdez a Beretta 9mm pistol. Valdez racked the slide and took aim.

“A pistol? You’ve been around them too long.”

“I said the same about you once, but you just had to upset the status quo. And just so you know, depleted uranium rounds. Expensive to make, but I wanted to use my old service pistol to end you.”

“Upset the stat… That wasn’t me.” Penn breathed raggedly. That wasn’t… Was it?” She was confused. She hadn’t caused anything like this. She didn’t think she had, but a memory said otherwise.

“It was when you killed the second coming. Remember that bit of stupidity? In the park?”

“What?” Her breath was worsening. The blood bubbled from her mouth and her chest was heavy.

Valdez squeezed the trigger, and Penn’s head jerked back.

“Penn,” said Valdez, shaking her to her senses. “Hey, girl. Wake up.” She flailed at him, knocking the bratwurst he was holding to the police car’s floor.

“Dammit, Penn. I knew you were sick. You now owe me six bucks for that, too. Sonuvabitch,” he said, picking it up. He walked to a trash can and dropped it in before returning to the food truck to order another.

Penn rubbed her eyes and looked around through muzzy eyes. She rubbed her nose and discovered that it had been bleeding. The blood trailed down her chin and stained her white undershirt and uniform. She sat stunned, looking at the blood on her fingers. This didn’t happen to them, not to Otherworlders. By Baal she was tired of that thought always coming to mind lately.

“Here,” said Valdez, returning to the car and holding out some paper napkins. “This is kind of spooky with the nose bleed and all. You need to get looked at. Their doctors aren’t going to be helpful so you know who you have to talk to. Make the appointment. In the meantime, sit back and relax. We’re heading back the station.”

“Dispatch, 4 Adam 16, show us as 10-19. Officer now on sick call. Copy?” Valdez released the button.

“Copy, 4 Adam 16. Shown as 10-19.”

He replaced the handset and held his new bratwurst out to Penn. “Hold this for a sec.”

She took it, wrinkling her nose at the smell. It was stronger than it should have been and her stomach lurched. “All to Hell this reeks.”

Valdez put the car into drive and took it back. “Thanks for holding that for me. Screw regs. I’m hungry and you need to get back to the station.”

Penn leaned her head out of the window. It was going to be a mentally long ride back, and the humiliation of returning with a nosebleed was more than she could bear.

 

This is copyrighted by Jason McKinney. Don’t use without permission, right? Enough said.

Demon Pen – WIP

I’ve been playing with this idea for a while and this was just put down on “paper” so it’s definitely rough. Whether anyone like it or not is immaterial since I enjoyed writing it. I’m going to continue this story/idea more this weekend. I like where it’s taking me.

Settle down, Cap’s on deck,” said Sergeant Marcella Stork. Stork tapped her pen impatiently on her podium. Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap. Stork kept making the pen do it’s dance even as the morning song of roll call conversations and whispers came to an end.
“First order of business, we’ve had some minor tagging in the Boyle Heights area, no surprise there considering the past, but the brass wants an extra eye on that to keep our presence known. The area has come a long way and no one past our pay grades wants to see that ruined. Secondly, there have been a string of church break-ins in Boyle Heights. Nothing taken, but there’s been property damage and not to mention two assaults within the premises. Goes without saying, keep your eyes open. Community leaders hate people of faith getting beaten more than gentries hate having gang graffiti show up outside their door.”
Stork droned on as Officer Penelope Penn rubbed her right temple while she took notes. Penn’s head was thrumming with a headache, and she wasn’t sure how much more of the noise around her she could take. As an Asmodeus she should have been oblivious to normal discomforts. This was something unheard of for her.
She shut her eyes and to block the pain and was successful up until the time her partner, Roy Valdez, nudged her back into pained awareness.
“We got our assignment, Penn. Time to shine.”
Valdez was standing, staring at her for a moment in confusion. “Penn? You okay? You look like you’re hurting.”
She opened her eyes and for a moment she could see the demon he was, and not the human he pretended to be. For two seconds the sight of him frightened and angered her. Her nostrils flared and her nails bit into the fake wood of the table.
“Yeah,” she said, regaining her composure. “I’m good. Let’s get our shit together and get out there.”
“Right. I’ll get our long guns and meet you at the black and white.” Valdez hesitated long enough to give her a doubtful look.
Penn stood, collected her notebook and pens and turned to leave when Sergeant Stork called for her.
Penn joined Stork at the podium, and Stork gave her a look meant to silence her as the room cleared of the last two officers to leave.
“Good job on handling that homeless homicide the other night.”
“It wasn’t that good of a job. I had the assholes-”
“You’re goddamned right it wasn’t that good of a job. What the Hell were you doing, engaging three angels like that? Are you trying to start a Holy War or something? Valdez told me he had to back you up because you were letting a little fire show to get your point across. You know they have free reign to take who they want. If they help a lostie to their end, what’s it to us? Nothing, that’s what. You keep your mind on regular human LEO matters and not this shit. You suspect something dirty with the Hosts and their bullshit you report it to me and then leave the aforementioned Hosts’ bullshit up to Semyaza and Aolas. Copy that?”
“You copy this, Halpas,” answered Penn, dropping human pretense and using her demonic rank. “That was murder of a human being. It wasn’t his time. It was three spoiled kids kicking a puppy to death. We’re cops, right? Or at least we pretend to be to keep up appearances. I get cruelty, I like it, but this was something different. I’m telling you it wasn’t his time, and they…”
Penn trailed off. Her vision dimmed for a minute and the sight of Stork in her true form appeared before her. Once she found the bloodied bird like head with its barbed hooked beak, twisted horns and pointed ears amusing, except now it angered her. She still gripped the pen in her hand and it splintered oozing the black ink onto the podium.
“Are you sick? Can’t be. We don’t get sick, not from human bugs anyway. What’s your damage, Penn? You on your monthly?”
“Fuck you. Go lay an egg or suck one. I’m fine, and it wasn’t his time.” She was never good with comebacks, and it felt like her worst one yet.
A malicious chuckle cleared Stork’s mouth. “Who says it wasn’t his time? You? Neither you nor I get a say in that. Only the dicks above and below get to make that determination. Go meet your partner. We’re done here.”
Penn scowled at Stork and then at the shattered pen still in her grasp. She let the remains fall and walked out of the briefing room, forcing herself to remain calm.
She walked into the hall and found Valdez waiting for her, leaning on the opposite wall.
“What was that all about? It sounded like you had her shitting all over you.”
“No one heard any of that, right?”
Nope. Not that anyone would understand either of you. You were both speaking Aramaic of all things. Why in the High Heaven would you even think that’s okay, by the way?”
“I didn’t even realize it. Let’s get to the car. We’ve got to talk something out.”
“Yeah, well…” said Valdez, straightening up. “Here’s your Bushmaster and mags.”
Penn grunted, and took the rifle.
They pulled out onto 1st Street in silence. Penn waited thirty minutes before addressing Valdez and what Stork had told her.
“Look, I never said I had to save your ass from the Lordship and her dogs. I told her I backed you up, and that was it.”
“Stork left me with the impression that you had to pull my ass out of the fire.” Penn popped a dozen Tylenol into her mouth as stared out the window at the passing neighborhood. She chewed them feverishly and gulped down water to cleanse her mouth.
“That stuff will kill your liver,” joked Valdez, trying to lighten the mood.
“The sight of you in your true form will do that faster. What the Hell were you even thinking.”
Valdez glanced at her disbelievingly. “What are you talking about? My true form? Pen Penn I haven’t changed but once in the past 24 hours and that was in the flame baths to get the human stench off me. True form. Huh, you’re either coming down from a high, or you’re sick. And that’s two things I know are impossible.”
“Goddamn it. I’ve got a headache. That shit happens to us from time to time. For fuck’s sake why is everyone bringing this up? It’s just an aftereffect from touching the Lordship. For Christ’s sake.”
Penn drained her water bottle as the cruiser slowed for the red light.
“Wow. Enochian, German, and Russian all jumbled together. I get the Russian and the German. They’re good for limericks and tongue twisters, but the Enochian? No one speaks that dialect anymore, thank you very fucking much, Baal. Something is literally eating you.”
What had once been a 16th century attempt to make a human’s soul wither as a practical joke had led to the near annihilation of a common dialect of demonic speech. Baal had been demoted in the hierarchy due to the stunt.

This is copyrighted 2018 by Jason McKinney. Enough said.

Sheriff Teddy and the Plutonian Invaders – Chapter six

Chapter Six
Trouble, Trouble Everywhere

The pond was still and empty that Sunday morning and Geraldine was nowhere in site. Teddy and Puffy checked her nest and found that it was empty also. The nest was left in disarray, which was odd for Geraldine. Geraldine was famous around the farm for keeping a well-kept nest. On that day however, the nest had sticks and straw strewn on the ground all around it.
“This isn’t how Geraldine lives,” Teddy commented. “It’s a mess here.”
“She wasn’t alone, Teddy,” said Puffy. “Look here. There’s a handprint in the dirt.”
Teddy walked over to where Puffy had found the handprint and was amazed to see that it looked like a human handprint.
“Do you smell bananas, Puffy?” Teddy asked as he raised his nose in the air.
Puffy sniffed the air and confirmed Teddy’s suspicion. “That’s an odd smell to be near a goose nest.”
“Indeed, indeed, Deputy. I don’t like this at all. First Joey flies in dazed, confused and hurt then we find Brownie is missing and now Geraldine’s gone too. This has gotten way too complicated.”
Puffy studied the handprint for a moment longer before he realized that it wasn’t a handprint at all. “Teddy!” He meowed in astonishment. “This isn’t a handprint like you’d see from a human. It’s a footprint from a chimpanzee!”
“A chimpanzee?” asked Teddy in amazement. “Are you sure Puffy?”
“Yeah, I’m one hundred percent sure. I watch those animal world shows with the farmer and I’ve seen chimpanzees on there. They leave footprints just like this one.”
“How can you tell it’s a footprint from a chimpanzee?” asked Teddy.
“Look here,” Puffy instructed, “see how you have this wide space between what looks like a thumb and the first finger?”
“I see it. What does that mean?”
“The space between them is too wide!” Puffy said triumphantly. “And look over here, see these four dents in the dirt?
“I see them, Puffy. What are they?” Teddy asked in a very interested tone.
“Knuckle prints, boss. Chimps walk on two legs like humans but they sometimes need their knuckles to move faster.”
Teddy’s eyes widened as he listened to Puffy impressive explanation. “So you think a chimpanzee snatched Geraldine in the middle of the night, but why?”
“I don’t know, boss but the direction of these prints look like the chimp was leaving Geraldine’s nest.”
“Are there any more prints we can follow, Puffy?”
“Afraid not boss but it looks like they were heading toward the border of the farm. Chances are they won’t be far. A chimp is going to be very noticeable on the farm or any where around here.”
“I suggest we start looking around the forest for starters,” suggested Teddy.
“I understand that chimps like trees.”
“Good call, boss. Let’s go take a look,” Puffy said.
The two law animals walked off toward the forest armed with the new knowledge of what kind of animal they were looking for. The reason for Geraldine’s abduction still escaped them but they were confident they would find out soon enough.
***

While Teddy and Puffy were searching the pasture and old barn, a strange duck was impatiently waiting next to the tall grass at Geraldine’s pond. The duck was not used to being kept waiting and hated dealing with bounty hunters and especially hated farms.
“Where is that chimp?” The duck said to himself in an agitated voice. “He should have been here by now.”
“I am here, monsieur,” said a French accented voice from within the grass. “I ma just making sure you are alone.”
The duck quacked loudly in surprise and turned around to face the direction the voice came from. “Get out here, Cyril,” the duck said angrily. You’ve gotta stop being so sneaky and let respectable ducks know you’re near them.”
Cyril walked out of the tall grass and sat cross-legged in front of the duck. “Qui, monsieur, I should stop being so but my job is, how do you say, extremely dangerous and I am behind the enemy lines, so to speak.”
“If you’re asking for more payment then you’d better forget that idea.”
“Oh, no, monsieur, I am getting plenty of the bananas. You are paying more than enough; it is just the law animals here are more difficult than I expected.”
The duck stretched his neck forward and quacked furiously. “You said you were the best and here’s where you prove it so do what you’ve been paid for.”
“Ah, I intend to. I have asked you here to let you know that I have your wayward comrade, monsieur Slick.”
The duck became enraged and hissed at Cyril. “My name’s Charlie Muscovy, chimp! Nobody calls me Slick or even Charlie Slick to my face.”
Cyril merely shrugged his shoulders at Charlie’s anger. “As you wish monsieur Char-lee. I just thought you would like to know that I do have your friend.”
“He’s no friend of my, paly. Where is he now?”
“He is in the forest hanging from the tree. I will bring him to you or you to him once you have given me the rest of my payment.”
“The rest of your bananas are in the same place as always at Great Egg Harbor. Now where is he?”
“Patience monsieur Char-lee, I have to verify it through my own network of ducks and geese. It’s not that I don’t trust you its just business.”
Charlie Slick had become very angry. He wanted to slap Cyril but Cyril’s reputation prevented him from doing that. Charlie knew that in a fight between him and Cyril that Cyril would always win.
“Fine, I’ll wait but my associates that are waiting for me may not be so patient.”
“Understandable but that is the way of business. You were lucky that I had a friend who knew that goose from Goose-slavia that came here some time ago. True, finding your friend through a crazy goose was not what you had expected but it worked out in your favor, no?”
“Yeah it worked out but who can trust what those crazy Goose-slavians say?”
Cyril chuckled. “Obviously you put enough trust in that goose, monsieur Char-lee for here we are.”
“It don’t matter; you just check your own sources and then give us that duck!”
“Qui monsieur, you shall get him. I will let you know sometime tomorrow when that will happen.”
“We’re in the forest next to that field right now. We’re going to be moving on to a barn we saw when we came in. Next time I see you, chimp, I hope you have the duck ready to be dropped off,” Charlie said with a threatening voice.
“Once again, monsieur, you shall get him soon.”
Charlie looked Cyril over then shook his head before leaving. Charlie couldn’t believe that he was dependant on a chimpanzee to get Joey la’Orange but Charlie was smart enough to know that Cyril was the best at getting the work done and not causing a big mess.
Charlie waddled his way to his two associates hiding in the forest. They had flown in earlier that morning and neither of them had any idea that the two law animals had been searching the forest before their arrival.
He was so intent on his thoughts that he didn’t realize that he had wandered right into the farmyard and had been quickly spotted by a horse at a fence.
“Hey, Joey, where’s the Sheriff. I want to be put down now!” the horse yelled in his direction.
“What, what!” Charlie said in surprise. He looked over and saw the horse looking directly at him.
‘Aw, geez.’ Charlie thought as he waddled faster. ‘Just act like that big hayseed ain’t there.’ Charlie hurried along toward the forest and disappeared from the horses’ sight.
Charlie waddled back as fast as he could back to the forest; taking time to avoid open places on the farm.
Two other ducks, one of which had a scar running across the right side of his bill, were waiting for him behind a pile of brush.
“Did that Frenchie get the target?” The scarred duck ask.
“Sure did, boss but he’s making sure he’s got his bananas before he turns our boy over,” Charlie responded.
“Good. If he were anyone else I’d say it’d take about a couple of days for him to find out.” The scarred duck cleared his throat with a raspy quack. “But if I know Cyril he’ll find out by tomorrow at the latest about his cut.”
“Then why would he wait to give us our boy?” The third duck inquired. “It’s bad for his business to make clients wait.”
“Patience, Vercilli,” the scarred one said smoothly. “Cyril’s nothing if not methodical. I’m sure he wants to make sure the heat don’t get turn up when he delivers the goods.”
“I don’t like it, Dante,” the duck called Vercilli said impatiently.
Dante, the scarred duck slapped Vercilli in the head with a wing. “You aren’t here to like anything, mook. You just do what you’re told, capesh?”
“I’m sorry, boss,” Vercilli said remorsefully. “I meant no disrespect.”
“You’re a good boy, Vercilli. Just relax and leave the heavy thinking to me. Once we get our wings on Joey the Duck we’ll be able to put this whole misunderstanding between him and us in the past.”
Charlie and Vercilli nodded agreement with Dante. The three gangster ducks then found the old barn to lay low in and spent the rest of the day running through their plans on how to properly deal with Joey la’Orange.

***

Cyril the Bounty Hunter watched Charlie leave the pond with blatant dislike. Deep down inside he couldn’t stand working for the Duck Mob. He constantly complained to himself about their rude behavior and ill tempers. “I will definitely retire after this mon cher,” Cyril said as he pulled the large bag containing Geraldine from behind him. “Silly little duck believes you are in the forest. I am much too smart and how do you say, wily, to leave my prize lying around where any animal may find it.”
Geraldine struggled briefly in the bag to get free but Cyril had her bound too well. “Please, my friend, do not excite yourself.”
A little while later a goose landed in the bush almost beside Cyril. “I’m here, chief,” the new goose said as he shook his feathers back into place.
“Ah, my good friend Gerald. Did you find the bananas where they were supposed to be?”
“Sure did, chief,” Gerald said. “They left all the bread you told them too as well.”
“Good, good. We will deliver this headstrong duck to them tomorrow morning and then we will be away to the French Riviera and retired, no?”
“You got that right, chief. I can’t wait to get out of this business. I’m getting to old for these long distance errands.”
Cyril petted Gerald’s head and smiled. “Then we are agreed, my friend. Come let us take our prize back to the forest and prepare for our much earned permanent rest.”
Gerald was about to fly off when he saw Teddy and Puffy walking toward the pond.
“Oh crud, chief, we got a dog and cat coming this way,” Gerald said in an alarmed voice.
“Quickly, follow me deeper into this grass,” said Cyril as he grabbed the Geraldine filled bag. “We must egress from here, no?”
Cyril and Gerald retreated as far into the grass as they could and still watch Teddy and Puffy with careful eyes.
Cyril watched them intently paying careful attention to Teddy. “This isn’t how Geraldine lives,” he heard Teddy say. “It’s a mess here.”
The Cat, as Cyril preferred to call Puffy responded, “She wasn’t alone, Teddy. Look here. There’s handprint here in the dirt.”
Hearing Puffy make that discovery made Cyril’s’ heart skip a beat. Gerald made a move to go after Puffy and Teddy but Cyril stopped him. He placed a finger on his lips to keep Gerald still and quiet.
Cyril watched Teddy walk over to Puffy and listened even closer to Puffy’s explanation of the walking habits of chimpanzees. His nervousness increased when he saw The Dog stick his nose into the air and ask if the cat smelled bananas.
The Cat sniffed the air too and gave his thoughts on the smell as well.
In time The Dog and The Cat left the pond and a clearly shaken Cyril behind.
“This is getting problematic mon ami,” Cyril said to Gerald as they slowly stood up.
“Its getting hot here, chief. Who’d think that a couple of rube’s like them could be so sharp.
“Quite, my dear Gerald. Now let us go before they decide to look around again,”
“Right, chief,” quacked Gerald softly. Before Gerald could fly off Cyril placed a hand on his wing.
“Gerald, I want you to go back home and make sure that we are ready to leave once this is over. I am tired of this work and this job in particular.”
“I’m on it, chief,” Gerald said as they slowly walked out of the tall grass.
With much practiced quiet and precision, Cyril ran around the edges of the farm toward where he had left Geraldine. Cyril didn’t like running the long way around to get to his hideout but he didn’t want to take chances. With his new orders in wing, Gerald flew off staying close to the ground to avoid detection himself.
In the mean time, Joey was oblivious to all that was going on at his adopted home. He had fallen into a deep sleep on the front porch under the farmer’s rocking chair. Little could he even suspect that his dear friend Brownie was in outer space, Geraldine had been kidnapped by a chimpanzee who thought she was Joey and that two old associates and his old boss were on the farm looking for him. At that moment, Joey was only concerned with sleep and the bright blue sky he was dreaming about.

Sheriff Teddy and the Plutonian Invaders- Chapter five

Chapter Five
Can It Get Any Weirder?

Back on the Earth, Geraldine was in just as much trouble as Brownie was in space. She had been carried far into the forest that lay between the farm and the old barn. When she finally had the bag pulled away from her head she was startled to see that it was morning. As she looked around a dark, furry face with a turned up nose greeted her as a hand plucked the rubber band from her bill.
“Bonjour!” said the furry face. “How are you today, monsieur?”
“What in the name of Swan Lake is going on here? I demand to know what this is all about! Who are you? Where am I?” Geraldine crowed loudly.
“Please, calm down. I was told you were chatty as well as feisty but you are, how do I say, a loud mouth,” the strange beast said with a strange accent.
“Loud mouth? Who do you think you are? Do you know who I am? Who are you anyway? What are you anyway? Why do you talk so funny?” Geraldine’s string of questions was never ending and for a moment her kidnapper considered letting her go and telling his employers that he couldn’t locate their target.
“I do not talk funny,” he said. “I think what you are hearing is my French accent. My name is Cyril the Bounty Hunter, monsieur. I am here to take you to your bosses that you have abandoned. Now please, monsieur, if I give you this banana will you shut your trap?” Geraldine’s kidnapper said as he offered her a banana. “For a duck you are quite the, uh, bag of wind.”
“Bag of wind? Duck?” Geraldine yelled. “I don’t have to take this! I’m leaving!” She made a move to go but a furry hand stopped her.
“You would do well to look around. We are above the ground and in a tree. Your wings are in a bag as well as your legs how will you get away?”
“What, what?” Geraldine shrieked as she looked down. She was indeed in a tree and had no way of escaping.
“So you see, monsieur. You are too far up to get away. Ah yes, your employers are most disappointed in you and your failing to return. You did not complete the task you had set before you. They are not pleased with you at all,” said Cyril the Bounty Hunter.
“Now see here, you brute. How did you get up into this tree? You have no wings and you’re not a bird! She shouted, as she looked over Cyril the Bounty Hunter’s body. The only thing she could see that was on his back was a small backpack. “Answer me this instant!”
Cyril the Bounty Hunter looked at Geraldine in amazement. “Forgive me, monsieur; I thought that you would know a chimpanzee when you saw one. My species are most adept at tree climbing.”
“I demand you let me go!” Geraldine screamed again. “When Sheriff Teddy finds out…”
“Ah, but your new, and soon to be old, employer cannot help you. I could hear them last night as we entered this forest. Lots of quacking and barking nearby and they had their bright lights out looking for you. They were quick to start their search and seemed very upset that you are missing. Now enough of this chit chats! Let us away!” Cyril snapped the rubber band back on Geraldine’s bill, shoved her into the bag and leapt off the tree limb swinging to another corner of the forest.
“Do not worry mon ami! We will be at our final location to meet your associates in the near future.” Once again, Geraldine had the feeling of airsickness as Cyril swung with her through the forest.

***

At the barn Teddy and Puffy were investigating Joey’s strange report. They had no idea that Geraldine was in trouble or that she was close to them. Teddy was busy in the barn sniffing around a large partial circular imprint in the ground where Joey said he had seen the saucer. Puffy was in the field in front of the barn also looking for clues to what had happened the night before.
“Hey Puffy!” Teddy barked from inside the barn. “I’m seeing some very odd tracks in here and some really strange smelling dirt. Do you see anything out there?”
“I’ve got some weird prints out here too,” answered Puffy. Puffy went inside the old barn to sniff the dirt that Teddy was in front of.
“What do you make of that dirt, Puffy?”
“I don’t know,” Puffy said in between sniffs. “Kind of smells like it was burned
something.”
“That’s what I thought also. I also noticed the air has a faint smell of something like ice to it as well,” Teddy said as he sniffed the air, too.
“Really?” Puffy said as he stuck his nose in the air. “I can’t quite catch the scent like you can.”
“It’s just odd the two smells being together like that,” Teddy said before he reexamined the tracks in the barn. “Look at these, Puffy. Four legs but the feet are close together. Kind of like a dachshund but with shoes on.”
Puffy looked closely at the footprints and grunted. “This dirt smells funny to me too. Like dirt after a good rain.”
“Indeed,” Teddy said as he sat to scratch behind his left ear. “What about tracks and scents in the pasture?”
“The ones I found point to what Joey was talking about. His tracks end like he took off flying after a dead run and Brownie’s are scattered all over like he was running for his life. I don’t like this, Teddy. Not one bit. Especially if I have to admit that the duck might be right.”
“Are you telling me that you think Brownie was abducted by aliens?” Teddy asked in astonishment.
“I’m not quite ready to agree totally but I’m not going to discredit it either,” Puffy answered warily.
“I have to admit it is odd. My question is though, how did they get their ship into the barn. I mean the barn roof has holes in it but not big enough to get something like that in here,” Teddy pondered.
“I don’t know what to tell you, boss. Maybe they teleported in here or maybe they dug their way in. They are supposed to be giant worms after all,” Puffy said sharply.
“Careful, Puffy. You’re close to admitting the alien story is true and if it is then anything is possible.”
“Yeah, I know and that honestly worries me,” Puffy said with great concern. “If what happened here was the work of aliens, then what are we going to do?”
Teddy looked intently into the sky before answering Puffy. “I don’t have an answer for that, old friend. I just hope that wherever Brownie is right now that he’s okay and not in any serious trouble.”
“Humph. If aliens do have Brownie it’s they who are in trouble and not him,” Said Puffy.
Teddy laughed good heartedly. “I’m more than willing to go along with that. Come on, let’s head back and ask some questions around the farm. Maybe somebody saw something and I’m hoping that somebody is Mavis. She knows everyone’s business,” Teddy said as they were leaving the barn.
Puffy let out a small hiss. “Why do you have to do this to me, Teddy? Dragging me along to meet with her. She’s such a babbling bore.”
“I can honestly say she feels something like that toward you, too. God knows why you two don’t like each other.”
“I like her fine as long as I’m not around her, boss.”
“All you have to do is just stand there and look sour. I know you can handle that, Puffy,” Teddy said with a grin as they reached the edge of the forest.
The two law animals walked back to the farm taking a short cut through the least dense part of the forest. As they walked through the forest, Teddy and Puffy had no idea they were being watched by three sets of strangers eyes. The owners of the eyes said nothing to each other in the chance that they’d be heard and their plan disrupted. Instead they just watched and calculated on how they would deal with the law dog and law cat if the time came.
***

Back on the farm Mavis had woke up early that morning and started in on Benny. “Why isn’t this stable in shape yet?” She blustered at him.
“Same reasons as why you always feel the need to talk, which is no reason by the way,” Benny replied smartly.
“Now you see here. I’m expecting Geraldine over any minute this morning and I don’t want her to think we live in a stable.”
“New flash, dear town crier! We do live in a stable! We’re horses!” Benny said mockingly. “And your friend lives in weeds as all water fowl generally do.”
“I am a thoroughbred and don’t you call my friend foul!” Shrieked Mavis.
“I called her a water fowl and not foul! F-O-W-L not F-O-U-L! Aw, forget it,” Benny said bitterly. I think I’ll go break my leg. Maybe the farmer will put me out of misery.” Benny left the sable with his head held low. He decided that maybe he could stop Geraldine from coming over if he got to her before she got the stable.
While he was making his way to the fence he saw Joey walking away from the pond. “Hey Joey!” Yelled Benny. “Hey, Joey, where’s the Sheriff. I want to be put down now!”
Instead of answering, Joey just looked at Benny for a long moment and then waddled away faster toward the forest.
“What the dickens was that all about. That’s not like him at all. Usually can’t shut the bugger up,” thought Benny aloud. He decided to mention it to Teddy the next time he saw him.
Benny waited by the fence for an hour but saw nothing of Geraldine. After the first twenty minutes of waiting Mavis joined him which made the forty minutes that came after that much harder for Benny. When Geraldine didn’t show up, Benny himself became concerned.
“I’ve got my doubts about your friend showing up, Mavis dear,” Benny said with concern. “She’s usually not ever late at all.”
“Hmph, why would you care, Benny?” asked Mavis in a harsh tone. “You’ve never shown any concern for her before.”
“Yeah, well normally I wouldn’t but life’s taught me that when the punctual don’t show up on time, it’s not a good sign. We’d better get Sheriff Teddy.”
“You do that. My heart can’t take much more of this stress. I’m going inside,” Mavis said before going into the stables.
Benny was about to bay for Teddy when Teddy and Puffy came trotting up to the stables’ back fence.
“Good morning, Benny,” Teddy said as he stopped at the fence line. “Mind if I speak to Mavis?”
“Don’t mind at all, actually. I was just about to call for you. Geraldine was supposed to be here an hour ago and she hasn’t shown up yet.”
“That is odd,” Puffy said seriously. “That goose never shows up late to flap her bill.”
“Agreed, Deputy,” Benny said. “I don’t know why but I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
“We’ll head down to the pond and have a look see,” Teddy said turning toward the pond.
“That may not be necessary, Sheriff,” said Benny. “I saw Joey down there about an hour ago. I tried to talk to him but he didn’t say anything to me not even any smart alecky remarks. He was acting pretty weird even for him.”
“Since when did you become Mr. Community Watch, Benny?” asked Puffy.
“Since I decided that the Sheriff might give me time off from my sentence for good behavior, Deputy.”
“We’ll see what we can do, Benny. See you in a little while,” Teddy said nodding to Benny.
“See you later, fella’s,” Benny said amicably in return. Benny turned toward the stables calling for Mavis. “Get out here, Mavis. The Sheriff wants to talk to you.”
Mavis walked up to the fence as Benny went inside the stables. With her usual grace and poise she addressed the law animals. “Thank goodness you are here, Sheriff. My dear friend Geraldine is missing and I fear for her safety.”
“Well Mavis, being an hour late to meet with an animal is hardly missing but we’ll look into that,” said Teddy. “ The reason we’re here is that I would like to ask if you saw anything unusual last night around the farm or pasture.”
Mavis stood still staring at Teddy for a moment. “Sheriff, that question implies that I am knowledgeable about anything that goes on here at the farm.”
“You’re the farm busy body, Mavis so yeah you are knowledgeable of what goes on here on the farm,” Puffy said sarcastically.
“Why do you always bring him with you, Sheriff?” Mavis asked angrily. “Do you always keep such impolite animals in your employ?”
“Puffy, please let me handle this,” Teddy said without looking at Puffy.
Benny bayed loud laughter from inside the stables. “Deputy, you’re on your own with this one. I don’t have a horse in this race.” Mavis didn’t bother to respond to Benny’s remarks. She just shook her head and muttered something about how she loved him regardless of what he may say.
“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry for what I said Mavis,” said Puffy.
“I accept your apology deputy now please allow your superior and I to converse,” Mavis said as she proudly raised her head.
Teddy rolled his eyes and resigned himself to try to talk to Puffy again about his dislike of Mavis again. “Mavis,” began Teddy, “You keep your eyes and ears opened in the best interests of all the animals. I appreciate you looking out after everyone so I figure you may be the one to have seen something out of the norm last night.”
“One does what one can to look after their community, Sheriff. Sadly I have not noticed anything out of the ordinary today. Last night is a different story though,” Mavis said as she walked closer to the fence and lowered her head toward Teddy and Puffy. “Last night, there were all sorts of barking and quacking from the pasture. Why I thought the duck was trying to kill that poor nephew of yours, Sheriff.”
Teddy stretched his head forward. “Could you make out anything that was being said?”
“No, I couldn’t hear anything being said but your nephew and that duck were carrying on something terrible. I could have sworn they were attacking a giant squeaky toy because I kept hearing the most horrifying squeaks. I also saw some strange flashes of light on the horizon,” Mavis said in an almost whisper. “Then I saw a streak of blue light that flew off toward the sky. It was most peculiar.”
“Well, that seems to match some of what Joey told us,” said Puffy.
“Indeed,” answered Teddy thoughtfully. “The more I hear the more I think we have a rather big problem.”
“A rather big problem, Sheriff?” Mavis said with a grin. “Please elaborate, Sheriff. I’m dying to know.”
“I bet you are Mavis,” Puffy hissed before he stuck out his tongue and bit it to keep from saying more.
Mavis furiously scowled at Puffy. “Rude feline. Rude, rude, rude!”
“Please, Mavis, just ignore my deputy for now,” Teddy said calmly. “If you happen to notice anything else unusual, Mavis, let us know.”
“I will do that, Sheriff. Please excuse me; the stress of this day is giving me the vapors.” Mavis walked back inside the barn leaving Teddy and Puffy to decipher what they had been told.
“Now this is just weird,” Puffy said as he stood up.
“Indeed it is,” Teddy said. “Puffy, let’s go to the pond and look for Geraldine. Maybe she knows something.”
The two law animals walked to the pond without saying a word to each other. Teddy was trying to figure out what to do about a deputy being abducted in an alien invasion while Puffy was trying to convince himself that there wasn’t an alien invasion.

Sheriff Teddy and the Plutonian Invaders Chapter four

 

Chapter Four
Brownie: The First Law Dog in Space!

While Joey was telling his incredible story to Teddy and Puffy, Brownie was on his way to the far reaches of outer space. He was in a rather big room and trapped in a large transparent bubble made of a strange stickiness. Brownie being Brownie couldn’t resist the urge to lick to bubble that imprisoned him and was greatly surprised at how it tasted. “Gross!” he yelp with disgust. “This tastes like tree goo.”
“As it should Earth human,” said a loud squeaky voice from the corner of the room.

“Your cell is made from what you would call a ‘plant’ on your world.”

“A plant? You made this from a plant on my world?” Brownie asked curiously.
“No, we made this from a plant on my world,” the voice said. A moment later one of the alien worms walked from its dark corner toward Brownie.
“Then why did you say a plant from my world?” Brownie asked.
The alien sighed impatiently before answering Brownie. “I meant that it was made from something you call a plant on your world.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Said Brownie as he sniffed another portion of the bubble. “Geez, you guys are more confusing than Joey. And why did you call me an Earth human?”
“That is what you are. You are an Earth human. Obviously a part of the ruling class judging by the domicile you found us in,” the alien said in a snobby voice.
Brownie laughed at hearing what the alien had said. “Boy, you guys are not too bright! There was nothing dome shaped about the barn you were in! Besides, I’m not a human; I’m a dog!”
The worm aliens’ beady eyes appeared to grow in surprise at Brownie’s response but the alien quickly regained its neutral expression. “Good try human. We know that you are the ruling class as we have watched with great interest your dealing on your land mass.”
Brownie laughed harder and longer this time, which annoyed the alien even more. It raised a tentacle that held the ray gun that had fired the silver beams at Brownie. “You will be silent! I will not tolerate your insolence!”
“I’m sorry,” Brownie said still laughing. “It’s just that you think I’m human and that I’m in charge of the farm!”
“Stop laughing! Your attempt at trickery will not work! We were disappointed that we were not able to get the dog accompanying you but when we return to your land mass we will succeed where we failed.”
Brownie was on the bottom of his bubble cell now rolling on the floor laughing. “You think Joey’s a dog! You are too much! He’s a duck, wormy!”
This made the alien furious. He fired a silver beam at Brownie but it didn’t have the same immobilizing effect as it did before. It in fact it made Brownie stop laughing and start moving one of his hind legs in a scratching motion.
“Ah, yes! That feels so good! It’s just like when the farmer scratches my belly,” he said smiling.
The alien was dismayed by what it saw. “Stop that this instant!” Shrieked the alien in a tone that sounded like it had started to breath helium. “Look what you’ve done! I’m beginning to hyperventilate!”
The alien shut the ray off and stomped all four of its feet out of the room. “What an annoying Earthling! The fubilizer is not meant to do anything pleasurable.”
Brownie couldn’t understand the alien anymore as it tromped away but the high-pitched squeals that he heard now hurt his head too much at that moment to think about it.

“Wow. Puffy’ll never believe this!” he said aloud. “These aliens are more high strung than Benny is!”
His talk with alien had tired him out more than he had wanted. He lay down and took a nap for a while before another alien worm entered the room. It was a different worm this time; Brownie could tell by the way it smelled.
“Awake, human!” The second alien squeaked.
“Huh? What do you want besides having me tell you that I’m not a human?” Brownie said in sleepy defiance.
The alien blinked its beady eyes at him and then spoke in a softer tone of voice. “Forgive me and my comrades, human. We mean you no harm we just wish to get to know you while we are on this long trip back to our home world.”
“Long trip back to your home world?” Brownie said as he cocked his head curiously. “Where do you guys live? Somerset county? I know that’s a long ways from where I live. You know that place where I live? It’s where you took me from.”
“We know we took you from Earth, human,” the alien said as he sat down. To Brownie it wasn’t sitting so much as it was watching the legs disappear into the alien worms body.
“Glad to hear it. Like I told your friend, I’m a dog. A law dog to be exact and not a human.”
“We are verifying what you say at this moment,” the alien said as it pulled a silver bag from inside its rust colored body suit. It opened the silver bag with a tentacle and scooped out a thick mud like substance and proceeded to eat it. The alien paused after its first bit and looked quizzically at Brownie.
“My apologies,” it said in squeaky sincerity. “Would you like some?”
Brownie was horrified by the offer. “Are you kidding? I know dirt when I smell it and I don’t eat dirt. I mean I eat a whole lot of things I probably shouldn’t but dirt’s not one of them.”
“Forgive me, please for indulging in this snack. Your world is made of such tasty food indeed.”
“It’s made up of dirt!” Brownie roared. “You know, dirt! The stuff you walk on?”
“We live in it actually. You will see that once you arrive on our planet,” the worm said before taking another bite of the mud it was eating.”
“At least it’s close to home and I can just walk back,” said Brownie optimistically.
This time it was the aliens turn to laugh and it sounded once again like a voice that had breathed in helium. “Human…”
“Dog!” Brownie said.
“Whatever,” responded the alien. “You are going to Pluto. Please look and see how far from home you truly are.” A tentacle waved through the air and Brownie was amazed to be able to see through the wall of the room and out into space.
“The planet we are now passing, you call Neptune on your world.”
“Holy baloney!” Brownie shrieked. “This is like the coolest thing ever! Uncle Teddy’ll never believe this!”
The alien was a little stunned and unsure about how to respond to Brownie’s reaction. “Um, yes. Coolest ever, of course.”
“I have a few questions, wormy,” Brownie said as he gazed at what he saw.
“My name is Kynorgblip,” said the alien. “And we know that you are called ‘Puffy’.”
Brownie whipped his head around in extreme surprise. “What do you think my name is, how can I understand you and what do you call yourself again, Knee-orb-lip?”
“Your name is Puffy, my fellow Plutonians and I release a chemical through our suits that allows you to speak to me and me to you, and I am called Kee-norg-blip,” explained the alien with great patience.
The thought of the alien having such a funny name coupled with the alien and his friends thinking that Brownie was Puffy caused Brownie endless laughter.
“Look, Dee-dork-flip, my name is Brownie, not Puffy. Puffy’s a cat and my bestest friend!”
My name is Kynorgblip!” the alien screamed, “I will also not tolerate any more of your human trickery.”
“Brownie is my name and I think I’ll call you Alphabet and I’m a dog!” Brownie said gleefully.
“Milnorpop was right!” Raged the alien in another helium sounding tone. “You are an infuriating beast!” The second alien worm turned off the view to space and stormed out like the first.
“Hey! I’m getting hungry, by the way!” Brownie shouted. He then started to giggle for no reason at all. “I’m getting hungry and you need to stop being so funny! Start with the food and stop with the funny!” Brownie howled as he fell onto his side and then into sleep.

Werewolves of the Dead Chapter thirty

Chapter Thirty

Drexler awoke to thin sunlight piercing the horizon. She was exhausted and hungry. Sleeping in unconsciousness wasn’t restful like sleeping because you were sleepy. Not by a long shot.
She struggled to stand, and fought harder to keep upright. She went to wipe the hair from her face and realized that her left arm was unresponsive. Drexler looked down to find that particular appendage was a mass of broken bone and burnt twisted muscle and skin. Her gaze traveled up to her shoulder. It was just as ruined. She felt the right side of her face. It was rough and crusted with dried blood.
“Fuck,” she scoffed. “I need to eat. Goddess, am I hungry.”
She’d left the little bastard five or six miles back, she didn’t really remember, stashed in a grated drainage ditch. She’d snatched them right from underneath the soldiers’ noses with very little effort. The poor fools were tired, hungry, and their only lycan was busy with other pressing matters. It was easy just to wait for Shannon the Mongrel to leave with her…whatever she was…and then lure the mother out with the boy. She’d snatched them and kept them hidden from the soldiers without any of them being the wiser.
Department stores had hidden passages with strategically placed mirrors to look out for shoplifters. The only people that were privy to such knowledge were store managers and the police. She’d kept them in such a location, and in one instance, two soldiers had been mere inches from Drexler as she’d peered out at them. One of them had even flossed his teeth as she made faces at him on the opposite side of the glass. The bound and gagged woman had been alive then. She killed her right after the soldiers had left. Killing her sooner would have more than likely alerted them to her presence. Humans had a habit of soiling themselves when they expired. It made dining difficult, but sometimes you didn’t care. That was one of those times.
Drexler had stripped naked, transformed, and then killed the woman in front of the boy. She didn’t do it out of malice or to make the boy suffer. It had been a moment of opportunity. She was hungry and she needed to be fed. Human meat was more satisfying as a werewolf than a human. She derived no joy from the boys screams, if he did scream, she didn’t remember either way, or from the fact that once she had finished she realized the boy was unconscious. That worked out for her; it made transportation that much easier. She’d followed two miles behind the parting soldiers hoping to maybe take a straggler or two for additional ammo for her stolen weapon when she realized they were staying close to the freeway. They were either hoping to come across transport to save boot leather, or they were meeting up with another group.
That’s when she decided to stash the kid and run her own recon. If they were linking up with more, then she’d go her own way. There was only so many she could stand against and win. If not, then maybe she could do some damage. And things had worked out better than she had hoped. Things had also quickly gone sideways. She’d gotten overconfident and had paid for it. Now she was without useable salvage, but at least she had the boy.
“Hmmmmm. The boy.” Drexler began to salivate and that saliva dripped in thin drops from her the left corner of her mouth. Her wound needed those precious fluids so she forced her mind away from the hunger and the images that came with it. Her body was healing, but like anything else, no fuel meant slower recovery times. She had to get back.
Slowly, she began her trek back to her base camp, humming In the Year 2525. “If man is still alive. If woman can survive…” Drexler had always loved the song. She had given the thought of what lycan life would be like with such helpless meat at the ready. A pointless thought, but she entertained it even now. “I guess it’s time for the judgement day,” she said, glancing over at two slow moving figures over six hundred yards from her. They were shamblers and not worth her time and effort. Not that she had much effort left to give them. She blew them a raspberry and tromped onward.
In time she had made it back to the drainage ditch and was appalled to find the grate and been wrench away. Her meat was gone, but her stashed weapon and thermal imager remained buried under a reeking pile of washed up storm washed detritus.
“No, no, no, no,” she pleaded as she sloshed through the brackish water. She ran her hands through the water, splashing it everywhere in the vain hope that he had heard her coming and was holding his breath. He wasn’t there. The boy was really gone. She paused fist halfway to striking the wall in a mindless rage when she realized there was a scent. No, not a scent; scents. Both male, and not more than fifteen minutes old. They couldn’t have gone far. The men had only cared about the boy. They hadn’t searched for anything else. Maybe they thought he was in danger, with him being tied up and gagged, and decided that Good Samaritanism still applied.
“Ha!” Drexler scoffed as she dug in the mess for the rifle and the thermal imager. She looked at the imager and smashed it against the concrete wall. She’d only stolen it to take away any advantage it gave them in the night.
Drexler hurried out of the ditch, hunger almost forgotten.
“Fee fi fo fum,” she said sniffing the air. She followed the scent, breaking off from following once she felt comfortable they were going to continue on their main trek. They were avoiding the freeway, but keeping to space with nearly knee high crab grass that allowed them cover should they need it while allowing them a full range of sight for any trouble. They knew enough to be dangerous, but she knew more.
She circled wide, using her instinct the plot their course. She was off course twice but correctly quickly each time. Her stomach growled as she caught the boy’s scent. Fresh meat was on the menu for lunch and nothing was going to stop that ala cart treat.
Drexler crouched low as she moved along the grass. She could hear their faint voices as she closed on them. Were they laughing and whooping, and carrying on like they were on a hunting trip? And was that whimpering she heard? First and foremost, it sounded like they were having a high time, and as she raised up enough to aim the M4, she froze.
They were having a high time. A high hard one as a matter of fact, and at the cost of the boy’s virtue. They were raping him. Those motherless sons of cur bitches were raping that boy. She didn’t know what angered her more; the fact that they were bespoiling her meal or that they were sexually assaulting a child.
‘I’m a mother fucker,’ she thought, as she lowered her rifle, and eased her breathing, ‘but even I have a limit that must be maintained.’
She raised the rifle up quickly and squeezed off a shot. Her marksmanship skills were always sharp and the round that entered the man taking the boy from behind proved it. He slumped forward, pinning the boy beneath him.
The second had been massaging his hardened prick as he watched his friend work the boy over. The shot had taken him by surprise, and he dropped his dick and lurched for a bolt action rifle leaning against a battered backpack. Drexler squeezed the trigger again. The shot slammed into the shoulder of the arm reaching for the rifle.
“Don’t fucking move, and you won’t get hurt,” she said, rushing to the man. She kicked the rifle away. “Down on the ground, hands on your head, now!”
Drexler stomped on the man’s back, causing him to howl in pain.
“You’re a cop? Ain’t no jailing us now. World’s over,” he sputtered before Drexler moved her booted foot up to the back of his neck.
Her face itched like crazy. She scratched it and found that new skin was forming, but it was nowhere near what it could be if she were operating on a full tank. She hit the man on the back of the head, and quickly handcuffed him.
“You didn’t have to hit me again,” he cried as she flipped him over.
“Shut up,” snapped Drexler.
She moved to the boy and checked his pulse. He was out, and his breathing was slower than what it should be. She licked her lips and looked form him to the dead man. She laid her rifle down, and went to work on the man.
She tore out his neck at the shoulder and swallowed greedily.
“You’re one of them.” The man’s shrieks were high and shrill. The sounds he made were very similar to that of a terrified preteen human female. Hell, Drexler knew women that hadn’t screamed like that before their deaths. And how much more irritating and nerve wrecking he was to her hearing.
She whipped her face toward him. The change was evident on her face and she wanted to see it as she snarled at him. She knew her now lovely golden eyes and sharpening features would scare the man into submission. In reality, all he did was scream louder. She wrenched his dead friends arm out of the socket, the sound it made as it was ripped free was more satisfying than the sound it made when she struck him with it. His moan pleased her as his head slammed into the ground.
“Better,” she said, returning to the meal.
She fed until she was beyond satiated. This was the werewolf feeding equivalent to grudge fucking. It was satisfying, but not in the act itself. The act of stuffing her face and filling her cave like belly was nice, but the violence and rage that the act allowed free was the true release.
Drexler pushed herself away from the body and leaned back, propping herself up with her arms. Her stomach growled back at her in pain at the amount of redneck meat she had consumed. She belched loudly and laughed at the sound. She cut the mirth off as she remembered the boy.
“Child,” she asked, looking around the camp sight. The boy was gone. She moved toward the still unconscious dimwit.
“Where’s the boy,” hissed Drexler through her bloody teeth, meat wedged firmly into every crevice. “Where’s the boy?” she said, slapping him. She licked her muzzle anxiously as she struck him again and again. “Where’s.” Slap. Harder and louder. “The.” Slap. Slap harder and louder still “Boy.” Slap harder yet, followed by a sharp even louder crack.
“Shit.”
She opened her hand and watched the body fall to the ground.
“Shit. Fuck.”
Drexler stood and drew cool the air deeply into her lungs. The smell of decay and different gore caught her attention.
“Fucking shit.”
She ran full out in the direction of the smell. She crested a knoll and found two undead ripping into the boy. Neither noticed her approach as they performed their own gluttony. She reached the first, a newly dead mid-teen girl, and snapped her neck. The arms ceased their pulling at organs and flesh, though the mouth still worked at chewing the flesh, and the eyes still moved, seeking answers to where the body had gone.
The second, a boy of the same age, didn’t notice what had happened to his partner. He continued digging into the boy. The ripping sound of flesh had never bothered her, but this time the sound made even her cold skin crawl. The rip, slurp, crunch, rip, slurp, crunch repetitiveness tickled her conscious and subconscious mind. She almost had to force herself to move for the final kill with purpose and not overzealous anxiousness to end the noise. Drexler smoothly snapped his neck, giving it an extra pound of torque. Like the girl, his mouth still worked at what had been shoved into his mouth. Drexler stood, reverted back to her human form, and contemplated her next move.
“Oh well. What the hell,” she sighed, turning the boy’s head toward his left shoulder. She then pulled the boy’s corpse close to the girl’s. “Maybe you and she can gaze upon each other for however long it takes for you both to rot away. Gaze, and perhaps contemplate how damned ugly you are. Or how you’re love, be it true romance or sibling what have you, lead you to this place.”
She moved to the boy, and breathed deeply. She bent down to close his eyes. She paused when the mouth moved as her hand passed over it. He’d come back. He looked Drexler in the eyes and his mouth worked again, this time opening wider before snapping closed. She could’ve sworn that he was trying to say something, but she could’ve been wrong. Wrong or right, Drexler had to do something.
“Not good,” she said flipping him over. Organs that she had exquisite familiarity with spilled from the boy. “Oh what they have done to you,” Drexler said, searching her pockets. She didn’t have anything sharp on her so she searched the undead teenager first, and found nothing useful. The girl proved otherwise. She had a number two pencil stuck into her pulled up hair.
“Let’s give you a go,” Drexler said. She gave the pencil a twirl between her fingers as she straddled the boy.
With a well-honed motion she drove it into the back of the boy’s skull. Drexler flipped the boy’s body over, and was pleased to see the motions of the jaw and the searching eyes had stopped. She smiled down at the still face, the unseeing eyes and the aging that death and undeath had brought to his face. “Come along, Sonny-Jim,” Drexler said, sweetly brushing the boy’s hair from his face. “I must make sure that you are reunited with your friends.”

This work is copyrighted by Jason McKinney. Any use, in whole or in part, is prohibited unless authorized by the author.

Sheriff Teddy and the Plutonian Invaders Chapter three

Chapter Three
Joey’s Fantastic Tale

Teddy and Puffy woke up the brilliant summer morning feeling well rested. They walked out into the farmyard to accompany the farmer on his morning rounds of the farm. When Brownie didn’t run up to them like he did every morning, Puffy and Teddy knew something was wrong.
Puffy looked around the farmyard but didn’t see Brownie anywhere. “Where’s that goofy brown menace,” Said Puffy in an annoyed voice.
“That’s a good question, old friend,” Teddy said as he turned from watching the farmer feed the cows to looking around. “He’s not even in the farmyard or we would have seen or at least heard him by now.”
Just then a loud quacking filled the air as Joey swooped in from the pasture. He landed clumsily in front of the barn and skidded to a stop ten feet away.
“We’ve got to help Brownie!” Joey said as he stood up and then fell over after taking a couple steps.
“What?” Teddy barked. “What do you mean we’ve got to help Brownie?”
“Brownie’s in trouble? Where, Joey? Where is he?” Puffy growled.
The farmer came out of the barn to see what the commotion was all about. He saw Joey attempt to stand up and fall over again before running to Joey. Teddy and Puffy ran closely behind him.
“Land of gumption!” The farmer yelled before he gently picked Joey up. “What have you done to yourself duck?” He asked as he walked back to the farmhouse with Joey in his arms.
Wilma, Florence and Stella Cow had all come out of the barn when they heard about Joey’s current troubles.
“What’s the matter duck?” Stella mooed loudly as she walked to the fence. Got into the farmer’s cider again!”
Teddy turned to look at Stella and her sisters. “You gals just need to tend to your hay. This may be official farm law business.”
“Why do you keep him around anyway, Sheriff?” Florence said in a shrill voice. “He’s not one of us!”
Puffy who was halfway back to the farmhouse with the farmer, ran back to face the cows. “You watch your mouth, cow!” Puffy snapped back. “You’re right, he ain’t one of you! He’s a duck who serves this community and has laid his life on the line time and again to protect you and me both!”
Florence and Stella stood dumbfounded before they tried to stutter a response. “You… I mean…who are you…Sheriff! We don’t have to stand for this do we?” Stella sputtered.
“Ladies, go back inside and we’ll forget all about what you’ve said here” Said Teddy sternly.
Florence and Stella slowly walked inside their barn leaving Wilma behind. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. Deputy Puffy, I apologize for the way my sisters acted. I truly hope Deputy Joey is fine,” Stella said with care in her voice.
“Thanks, Wilma,” Teddy said. “I know he will be. We’ll see you later.” Teddy and Puffy returned to the farmhouse at a quick walk.
“We need to find out what happened to Brownie and Joey as quickly as possible” Teddy said as Puffy walked through the pet door.
“You got that right, boss,” Puffy responded once they were both in the farmhouse living room.
The farmer sat at the kitchen table and held Joey in his lap. “What did you get into, duck,” The farmer said as he trimmed some of Joey’s wing feathers with a small pair of scissors. “You got singed feathers here and a heck of a goose egg on your head.”
Joey turned his head toward Teddy and Puffy and started to quack in a whisper to them. Teddy quietly barked to Joey. When Teddy stopped, Puffy started to switch between growling and meowing to Joey. At one point Joey pulled his wing out of the farmers’ hand as if he were showing it to Teddy and Puffy. The farmer was amused at the animals acting as if they were talking to each other, but he put it off to animal concern mixed with friendship and nothing more. If he knew what they were really saying he would have been greatly surprised.
What the three law animals had actually said to each other was this. “Boss, we have to…we have to get Brownie back,” Joey said tiredly.
“Take your time, my friend and speak slowly,” Teddy said as he sat down. “What do you mean we have to get Brownie back? Where is Brownie, Joey?”
“It was aliens, Teddy,” Said Joey softly. “Aliens took Brownie last night while we were on our patrol.”
“What? What nonsense is that your talking about, Joey?” Puffy said in disbelief. “Aliens took Brownie? You’ve been into the cider while watching X-Files, haven’t you?”
“Does this look like something cause by cider and a TV?” Joey asked as he jerked his wing away from the farmer and held it up.
“I’m just saying that it’s far fetched is all,” Puffy said as he looked away.
Teddy glanced at Puffy before speaking to Joey. “Just tell me what happened after you and Brownie left for patrol.”
“We saw pink flashes coming from the pasture so we went to have a look. The flashes were coming outta the old barn and when we got there we saw three giant worm looking things trying to fix a flaying saucer made outta rocks or something.”
At that moment, the farmer finished trimming Joey’s feathers and placed him on the ground. Joey gave his wings a little flap to see how they were and promptly collapsed to the floor.
“You act like you done flew a million miles, duck. You should take it easy for a while,” The farmer said as he picked Joey up again and then carrying him out to the front porch. Puffy and Teddy quickly followed and watched the farmer walk out into the farmyard to finish his morning chores.
“So what happened after you saw the ‘worm things’ and their flying saucer?” Puffy inquired sarcastically.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Joey loudly quacked.
“No one thinks you’re crazy,” Teddy calmly said.
“No, I do think he’s crazy,” Puffy said which made Joey even more upset.
“I ain’t saying anything till ya make that grumpy flea ridden excuse for a cat apologize!” Joey said as he flapped his wings. That didn’t help Joey’s cause any because he then promptly fell over onto his left side.
“I’m sorry, Joey”. Puffy said with mock sincerity before Teddy could interject. “You’re not crazy, you’ve been into the cider!”
“I have not!” Joey howled as he tried to get back onto his feet.
“DEPUTIES!” Teddy roared. “CALM DOWN!”
Teddy’s loud barks calmed both Puffy and Joey down as well as shame them into silence.
“Look, you seem to think Joey’s been up to no good, Puffy,” Teddy said impatiently, “So please tell me where you think Brownie is?”
“I don’t know, probably sleeping off his share of the fun somewhere,” said a sulking Puffy.
“Argh! Will ya please listen!” Joey pled. “Brownie and I were attacked last night by aliens.”
“Calm down, Joey. Please tell me what happened after you saw the aliens,” Said Teddy.
“We watched them using some pink ray gun thing to fix their…ship I guess ya’d call it when one of them saw us. We tried to get away but they had some gizmo gadget that shot out silver rays that kept me and Brownie from getting away.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Teddy said. “So how were you able to escape, Joey?”
Joey appeared lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe my flying had something to do with it. Brownie’s stuck on the ground but I’m not so maybe their ray guns don’t work so well on things that fly.”
“Alright,” Puffy began. “This is all very interesting but now let’s go find Brownie and get on with our business.”
“Fine!” Joey screamed. “You don’t wanna believe me, that’s just fine. I’m going right back up to that barn and get our pal back.” Joey flew into the air about three feet then crashed back down. “Wow. Dear God am I tired. Farmer’s right. I do feel like I flew a million miles.”
Puffy rolled his eyes at Joey as Joey sat down on the ground in front of them.
“Go on up to the porch, Joey,” Teddy said kindly. “Puffy and I will go to the pasture and barn to look around. Just rest there till we get back.”
“Okay, I’ll do that but ya better be careful. Those worms play for keeps.” Joey walked up the porch steps and sat down under the farmers’ favorite rocking chair.
“Don’t worry, Joey. Hopefully we won’t see any giant duck eating snails while we’re out either,” Puffy said with a laugh.
“Ah, stick it in yer ear, cat! You’ll see I was for real when ya get there!” Joey said as Teddy and Puffy left the farmyard.