Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A Job For The Pros

“Are you sure you’re not going to bleed to death?”

Lou nodded. “I’m getting blood all over this poor guy’s car, though.”

“It’s probably insured.”

“This piece of crap? No way. I guarantee you he’s only got liability. It would probably cost more to insure it than the trade-in value of the car.”

George considered that. “What do you think it’ll cost him to get the bloodstains out?”

“A shitload.”

“Poor bastard.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess in the grand scheme of what happened tonight, the guy with a bloody car isn’t getting such a bad deal, but I’d still be pissed if I were him.”

“Plus, we’re not done with the car yet,” said Lou. “We could end up wrecking it.”

“Yeah, the way things are going a blown-up car is a definite possibility. Although I think the worst is over.”

“Well, so did I, until you just now went and jinxed it.”

George smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Hey, Lou, is it okay if I get all deep on you?”

“Aw, crap.”

“Bear with me. It’s my fault that all those people died today.”

“No, it’s the werewolf’s fault. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I should be beating myself up. This is a really appropriate time for that kind of thing. Look, I know we’re basically scumbags. We hurt a lot of people, but it’s usually people who deserve it.”

“Not always.”

“That’s why I said ‘usually.’ When we do bad things, we’re shaking people for money, breaking a couple of bones, maybe cutting somebody if they need it. We never orphaned kids. We never murdered people just for kicks.”

“We didn’t, but we still suck.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be a good person.”

“May I speak freely?” Lou asked.

“Of course.”

“Fuck you, George.”

“That’s how you respond to me wanting to be a good person?”

“Yep. You don’t want to better yourself. You’re just a selfish prick. This is about making you feel better, not about helping anybody else. If you wanted to become Mother Theresa, you should have done it when that poor old guy begged you not to break his thumbs, not while we’re driving away from a bloodbath. I don’t want to hear about any recanting of your previous ways in the middle of a really bad situation. You want to be a better person? Make that decision when we’re sipping Margaritas on a luxury cruise.”

“Margaritas are chick drinks.”

“No they’re not. Jimmy Buffett sings about them.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I’m going to make it up to the victims for what happened.”

“How? By bringing them back as zombies?”

“I don’t know yet. Those kids who lost their mother, maybe I’ll pay for their college education.”

“What? Are you brain damaged?”

“What’s wrong with doing that?”

“I know I said the term was offensive earlier, but George, that’s completely retarded. You’re not going to send those kids through college. What are you going to do, go around offering financial support to everybody we’ve wronged?”

“Not everybody. Just the worst ones.”

“Give me a frickin’ break. You want to help somebody you’ve wronged? Help me. Buy me a new shirt and pants. Get me some goddamn Band-Aids.”

“I will.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m being completely serious. I’m going to start helping people. Sure, maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and decide that the college education idea is kind of stupid--”

“You will, I promise.”

“--but I’m going to do whatever it takes to clear my conscience. Maybe it won’t be big things. Maybe it’ll be a bunch of little things. Maybe I’ll...I don’t know, entertain kids or something. Dress up as a clown.”

“Kids don’t like clowns. Kids are scared of them. You’re going to terrorize the children you’re trying to entertain.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve never been more lost in a conversation in my life.”

“I just want to be a better person.”

“We’ve established that. We’ve also established that it’s stupid.”

“Becoming a better person is stupid?”

“Maybe the concept isn’t, but the ideas you’re throwing out there are.”

“Well, my brain isn’t working at full capacity right now, okay? Give me a break. You should be encouraging me.”

“Fine. Be a scary clown.”

“I don’t mean the clown thing. But if I have a major life epiphany, a positive one, you shouldn’t sit there and make fun of it. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You make fun of me for ordering a diet soda! Don’t pretend that you’re some self-improvement cheerleader. Our relationship is based on blunt honesty, and my bluntly honest opinion is that you’re being an idiot. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be affected by what happened, but do I believe that you’re going to become Santa Claus? Hell no.”

“I think you could stand to be more affected by all of this.”

“I’m compartmentalizing.”

“Fine. We’ll let the whole thing drop.”

“Good idea.”

“Are you sure you’re not bleeding to death?”

“As far as I know.”

“How much further?”

They’d found a mustard-stained road map underneath the back seat. Lou ran his finger along it. “A few more blocks.”

“I hope these guys know what they’re doing. What I really hope is that they let me pull the trigger when they’ve got Ivan in their sights. That’d be sweet.”

“Right. We’ve performed so well up to this point, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to turn the responsibility right back over to us, just to keep our high self-esteem intact.”

“I can fantasize, at least. God, I hate Ivan.”

George still wasn’t one hundred percent certain that they should be driving to the rendezvous point. The idea that one of the professionals would say “Lost the werewolf, huh? Time for you to die,” and put a bullet in each of their brains seemed like a legitimate concern. But ultimately, much like the rhetorical question of pigeons crapping on your car versus alligators eating your limbs, it came down to the certainty of a life spent hiding from vengeful criminals versus the potential of being executed for incompetence. If the reinforcements successfully recaptured Ivan, it would be much better to be hanging out with them at the time than to get the news from Ricky.

And, to be safe, they’d make sure the reinforcements knew that George and Lou hadn’t shared all of their werewolf wisdom.

“I think it’s this next one,” said Lou, pointing with a bloody finger.

Like Ricky had said, the address was just a small parking lot. As soon as they turned in, a white van with “Ray’s Air Conditioning” on the side pulled out of one of the spaces and drove forward. A man in a tan jumpsuit got out of the passenger side and beckoned to them. George looked at Lou, shrugged, and then pulled into the newly vacated space.

George shut off the engine. “Well, if we get shot, I just want you to know that it’s been a pleasure working with you.”

“If we get shot, I won’t be able to say the same.”

They got out of the car. The man, who looked about fifty and sported a brown handlebar mustache, whistled in amazement. “The wolf did that to you?”

“Most of it, yeah,” said George. “Some of mine came from dogs.”

“You should’ve been more cautious.”

“Yeah, we figured that out once we started bleeding all over the place. I’m George, and this is Lou.”

“I’ve got a question for you, George.”

“Sure.”

“Do you think it’s better use of our time to get in the van and get moving, or to stand out here introducing ourselves?”

What a dick. “Fair enough. Let’s go.”

The man slid open the side door, revealing a woman in a similar tan jumpsuit. She was in her thirties, had her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and would have been extremely attractive if she didn’t have such a sour expression. She held a crossbow on her lap.

George nodded at her politely and they got in the van. The man slid the door closed behind them, almost slamming it shut on Lou’s foot.

There were two rows of seats. Out of consideration for Lou’s more extensive injuries, George climbed into the back seat. Lou sat down next to the woman, eyeing her crossbow nervously. There was no room in this van for the cage even if Ivan hadn’t stole it; Ricky could just suck it.

The driver, who looked like a college kid, turned around and gave them a salute that seemed more than a little condescending. Just stay polite, George told himself. You need these people. It’ll all be okay.

The handlebar mustache guy got into the front passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, sir.”

The van sped out of the parking lot fast enough to make George momentarily lose his balance. He fastened the seatbelt.

“Now is the appropriate time for introductions,” said the handlebar mustache guy. “I’m Prescott.”

“Angie,” said the woman.

“Sam.”

“Nice to meet you,” said George. “Is it okay that we’re getting blood all over your van?”

Prescott shrugged. “It’s had worse.”

“So you’re the mighty werewolf hunters?”

“We hunt what needs to be hunted.”

“But have you specifically hunted a werewolf before?”

“What do you think?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I asked.”

Prescott gave him a look of pure contempt, as if George were the stupidest human being ever to reside on the planet. “Of course we haven’t.”

George snickered. “Ah. I get it. You don’t quite believe in what you’re hunting yet. That’s where we were not too long ago. You’ll learn.”

“I’m sure we will. Why don’t you start the education process by answering some questions?”

“What do you want to know?”

“What are its capabilities?”

“Well, first of all, he’s a human being who can instantly change into a wolf-creature. That’s a pretty big capability.”

“Please don’t editorialize. Just the facts.”

Dick. “Fact: my partner and I shot him several times, close range, in the frickin’ head, and it didn’t kill him.”

“Did it injure him?”

“Not a lot.”

“But it did injure him?”

“He bled and reacted with pain, yes.”

“What kind of bullets did you use?”

“Regular old lead bullets. I don’t suppose you guys have silver ones, do you?”

“No. They’re not something you can get quickly, even with our connections. Not a lot of call for silver bullets in the real world. We’d have to make them ourselves. We’ve got somebody on that, but it won’t happen today.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“Are there any other weaknesses we should know about?”

“Possibly.”

Angie, who had been glaring at him the entire time, tightened her grip on the crossbow. “I’d hate to think that you were trying to withhold information to make yourselves indispensable.” Her voice sounded like she’d been a chain smoker her entire life. No, worse than that, it sounded like she extinguished cigarettes on the back of her throat.

“Would I do something like that?”

“For your sake, I hope not.”

“Relax,” said Prescott. “We wouldn’t take you out even if we wanted to.”

“Good to know.”

“After all, we may need bait.”

Serving as bait didn’t sound like much fun, but George would take it over an execution any day. Prescott looked as if he really wanted to watch George cringe at that idea, so George made sure to maintain a casual front. “Sounds fine. Happy to help.”

“What are his other weaknesses?”

“Pretty much just silver, as far as we can see. And he’s an arrogant son of a bitch. Now can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“How exactly are you going to catch him? Because all I can think of is to follow a trail of corpses.”

“We’re quite a bit more sophisticated than that.” Prescott pulled what George had thought was a GPS from its mounting on the dashboard. “Ivan Spinner had a chip implanted into his arm while he was in custody. We know exactly where he is.”

“Holy crap! Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s fantastic! That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. I mean, sure, pretty much all of the news I’ve heard today has sucked shit, but still, that’s great news! Did you hear that, Lou?”

“Where is he?” Lou asked.

“You’re on a need-to-know basis.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like you very much and don’t feel like sharing.”

“Can we at least have some weapons?” George asked.

“Bait doesn’t need weapons.”

“So are you catching him or killing him?”

“As of right now, the plan is still to capture him. If that changes, you’ll know by the dead werewolf at your feet.”

“Will he be tortured after we get him?”

“That’s not for us to decide.”

“If I get a vote, I hope he is. One last question: if you guys are so fantastic, why didn’t they have you do this job in the first place? Why hire us?”

“Because we’re expensive as hell.”

“Are you worth it?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?”