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.