Looking Bad for Our Hero
“What are we going to do with them, Bruce?” One of the teens called out to the leader.
“You freaking butthole! Don’t say my name!” Bruce, the one with the barbed wire bat said.
Bruce is evidently in charge, which is not a good sign. He seems like he’s going to start popping people with that bat. If someone did get 911 off before tossing the phones, the cops will have a hostage situation, and I’m guessing that the demon in him is going to go down the collateral damage route rather than let people go.
“You freakers are just some little witches for this holiday crap, aren’t you? Well it ain’t gonna happen.” He held up the plastic Jesus, tossing it high in the air and whacking it with his bat. He didn’t connect very well, so it glanced off and ricocheted into the rows of seats.
His fellows jeered at that, while the group cringed, seeing their own fate. The one teen who spoke up earlier, pointed at the rest of us.
“Look at ‘em. They’re pissing their pants.”
“They should.” Bruce said. “Pinky, get the gear. We’re gonna show ‘em what to be afraid of.”
No one moved or responded.
“Pinky!” Bruce whirled on the guy at stage right.
“Wait, I’m Pinky? When did we decide that?”
“When you wore that freaking pink shirt, Gary!” Another laughed.
“Freakers, shut up with the names!” Bruce said. “Just go get the gear. We’re going to show ‘em.”
“Sure thing, Bruce, er, sorry.”
“Freak me sideways!”
Gear could only be summoning supplies. I don’t think these guys have the mojo to bring in anything really powerful, but there are different ways of summoning. Whatever is in them is dangerous, and they might try and possess other people. Gotta do something.
I didn’t have the proper weapons on me, and I was in no condition to fight, anyway. Plus there were too many innocent people around. I started scanning my surroundings, looking for something to use, something to neutralize these teens when I heard a whimper from my knee.
A little girl clutched her mother, arms wrapping around the woman’s legs. The mother tried her best to comfort and shush the girl. The girl, maybe eight, was a breath away from full on sobbing. I caught her eye for a bare instant before it disappeared back into her mother’s skirt, but that look pleaded with me to help, somehow.
I scanned the faces of other people, and most of the adults tried to look brave, but I could see the worry in shifted feet and nervous fidgeting. Here and there other children glanced back, shielded by their parents.
I looked down, sighing heavily, and I saw the answer.
“Dun dun dun!” Jessie said.
“Jessica!” Nikki snapped. “It’s bad enough I have to deal with his constant interruptions.”
“Sorry,” she said, but it was clear she wasn’t sorry.
“This is your bad influence,” Nikki glared at me. “I know you have corrupted poor Jennifer, but did you have to spread it to another innocent?”
“No. Just, no.” I pointed a finger at myself. “Nice guy, I’m on the list and have the hat to prove it.” I pointed at her. “You, bloodsucking vampire, AKA corruptive influence. The bad habits Jen has picked up from you—”
“Are not infuriating when it comes to telling stories.”
My mouth was open to continue pressing the attack, but I closed it. “Okay, you may have a point there. Hammett and Chandler I’m not, but I’m not selling fiction. This happened. Now, I’m almost done, so let’s get back to it.