RIDERS OF TUATHA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER VIII
It was still dark when the black Dodge van pulled up in front of the big old house. Two men and a woman got out and looked cautiously around. The first thing they spotted was the body lying in the gutter. Under the woman's watchful eye, the men laid down a tarp they took from the back of the van, and rolled the body onto it. Carefully wrapping it up, they quickly loaded it into the van. One of the men climbed back in and drove off while the woman and the other man headed toward the house.
As they reached the front door, they each pulled a gun from beneath the dark trench coats they wore. The man tried the door, only to find it locked. He carefully produced a large brass ring with a number of long metal picks from his pocket and while the woman held a small pen light, he began working on the lock. In just a few seconds he had the door open. The two figures quickly ducked inside.
Everything was dark and silent in the old house. The inhabitants were either gone or asleep. "We got Joe. Can't we just leave?" the man whispered to his partner.
"You two botched it before," she whispered back. "It's a miracle this place isn't crawling with cops. You heard what Tony said. You left two witnesses, and he didn't want anyone to find out. Let's just grab the guy and the girl and get out of here." She indicated the stairs and he began slowly climbing them as she looked around on the ground floor.
They searched through every room, even the vacant top floor, but found no one. The house was totally empty. "Did you really think they would hang around after what happened earlier?" the man asked.
"You're probably right," the woman answered him. "But there's going to be hell to pay when Tony finds out they got away."
They were just about to leave when they both heard a sound. It was a low moan, and it came from upstairs. "I checked up there," the man said nervously. "You think this place is haunted?"
She slugged him in the arm and shoved him back toward the stairs. "They were probably hiding somewhere," she said quietly.
"Then why would they give themselves away?" he asked. Again the moan sounded from above. She gestured for him to be quiet and they continued up the stairs. Again the low sound came to them, this time from the end of the hall. The two crept quietly toward the half closed bedroom door. She pulled her gun and kicked the door open with a bang.
There was no sound in the room. The woman played her small flashlight around, and it appeared to be empty. The man joined her and whispered in her ear. "Maybe this place really is haunted." He could feel the hairs crawling at the back of his neck.
"Go look in the closet," she said as she bent down to shine the light under the empty bed.
"Nothing," came his reply. There was nothing under the bed as well. She reached up to steady herself as she stood and her hand contacted cold flesh. The woman jumped back and let out a low cry in fear. "Jeez, what is it?" her partner asked in alarm.
She shined her light on the bed. There lay a thin, blond man, wearing what looked like a long, white night shirt. His green eyes reflected the beam of her light back at her like the eyes of a cat. The man rolled his head to the side, moaning. "He wasn't there a minute ago," the woman said.
"Well he's there now," her companion replied. "He looks like he's sick or something."
"Is he the guy Joe hit?" she asked.
"I don't know. I guess so," he answered her.
"Maybe he's got a concussion," she suggested.
"The girl may have gone for help," the man replied.
"Well, we aren't going to wait around for the help to arrive. I guess one is better than none. Bring him along." She shined the light so her accomplice could see to pick the injured man up off the bed. He carried the body over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and they quickly hurried down the stairs and out of the house.
The van was waiting at the curb. The driver had already completed his errand by disposing of the body in the nearby river. The two hurried to the van, the woman opening the back door while her partner dumped their prisoner in. They then climbed in after him, pulling the door shut. The driver started the engine and headed off for the rendezvous with Tony.
"What you propose is beyond the realm of possibilities," Elnar protested. "I might be able to slow down one or two of you to drop to the world of humans, but to send an army in battle readiness! This is beyond reason!"
Rood could no longer contain his anger. He reached out and grabbed the little, old man by the collar of his oversized robe and lifted him off the floor. "You will find a way or we will be looking for a new magician," he hissed. "It gets very cold in the Eldritch Mountains."
Elnar looked over to where the other guard stood in hopes of assistance. Melcot was contentedly leaning against the doorjamb. He did not seem concerned in the least with his companion's threatened violence. Realizing he was on his own, Elnar tried a show of bravado. "How dare you threaten me?" he squealed. "I am a member of court and under the protection of the king!"
"Have you forgotten, old man, that the king is no longer here? What think you the high council will say when we tell them you were instrumental in banishing him to another world?"
"That is a deception! You know there is no truth in that!" Elnar shrieked in fear.
"My lord, it certainly appears that you were the cause," Melcot added. "I think we should take this matter to the council now and waste no more time." He turned to open the door. Rood began to pull the old man toward it.
"Wait! Wait but a moment!" Elnar cried. The two guards looked at him expectantly. "Give me time to consult my books. I may find a solution to this."
Rood released him. "Be quick in your studies, old father," he said menacingly. "We are very impatient."
"Return late today and I shall try to have an answer for you," the old man said as he straightened his robes and turned to a nearby pile of books and papers.
Scott and Caseldra arrived in Springford fairly early and pulled up at a 24-hour truck stop cafe to kill some time. Scott had picked up Jennifer's wallet on the way out of the house and he now used her money to purchase breakfast for the two of them. The food was excellent, and the coffee was even better. He was beginning to feel the effects of the last several hours of driving on top of a sleepless night. The caffeine provided a very necessary lift.
Caseldra was amazed at everything they encountered. She could not believe how fast the car traveled when they got out of the city and onto the highway. The other vehicles shooting by terrified her at first, but once she became accustomed to this strange mode of conveyance, she became like a little child. She urged him to try greater speeds to see how fast they could go, until Scott finally interested her in playing with the radio. The girl showed a marked preference for country-western music as she played with the dial, changing from station to station.
At the cafe, Caseldra played the juke box that was attached to the side of their booth. She didn't like it as well, when she discovered she could not change the song when she grew tired of it as she had been able to on the car radio. She then wanted to wander about the small restaurant checking out all the strange appliances. Scott managed to restrain her by convincing her of the need to blend in and be inconspicuous. This appealed to the warrior in her. The girl appreciated the advantage they might have if her true nature was hidden. The food held her attention for some time, but once breakfast was over, she again became restless.
They still had an hour before the offices at the auction house opened, so they left the cafe to drive around and kill some time. Once outside, Scott moved the car over to the gas pump just next to the restaurant. While he was refilling the tank, Caseldra noticed a big semi parked nearby with the diesel engine running. Curiosity getting the best of her, she wandered over to investigate.
"Well, hi there, little lady." She looked up to see a short, stocky man dressed in jogging shorts and a tank top checking the cables on his rig. He smiled at her. Caseldra smiled back, having no idea what he had said. As he reached up to tug on a loose connector, her eye was suddenly caught by the blue and red picture on his bare arm. She had never seen painting on a person's body before, but she recognized the image instantly.
"A dragon!" she said in her native language and took a step closer.
"Oh, you like tatoos?" the man asked, seeing her eyes examining his arm. "That there is a genuine Chinese dragon. I got that one in 'Nam," he bragged. She took a step closer and reached her hand out tentatively. "It's okay, you can touch it," he said, holding out his arm.
Caseldra gently caressed the picture. The skin felt normal, and the image did not appear to be painted on. She rubbed a bit more firmly and was surprised to see no change. The man apparently had this unusual coloring as part of his nature. She was totally at a loss to understand it.
"You want to see my naked lady?" he asked with a lecherous smile. Caseldra smiled back, still having no idea of what he was asking. The man pulled off his tank top and revealed a colorful tatoo of a naked woman on his back. She was stretched out in a seductive pose, her big, round breasts jutting up toward his shoulder blade. Caseldra marveled at this further oddity. She again brushed her fingers over his skin, feeling the smoothness.
The man turned to face her, showing the image of a snake winding across his chest. She again reached out, but then drew her hand back modestly. "It's okay, honey," he cooed. "You can pet my serpent." He reached out, taking her hand and placing it on his chest. He roughly pulled it across his hairless body, rubbing her fingers against his nipples. "Ah, that feels good. Don't it?" he whispered.
Caseldra was beginning to feel uncomfortable with such intimate contact with a stranger. She tried to pull away, but he only held her hand more firmly against him. "I got another serpent I'd like you to feel," he said as he slowly forced her hand down toward his waistband. With his free hand he reached down and pulled out on the elastic of the shorts he was wearing, revealing himself to her. Caseldra suddenly realized what the man wanted, and she struggled to break free. He just laughed and slipped his shorts down, pulling her against his exposed body.
A wave of anger swept over her, and she stomped down hard on his instep while pulling his hand and bending to use her body for leverage. Caught off guard by the pain, the stocky little man felt himself flip through the air to land heavily on the gravel.
About this time Scott came around the side of the truck cab, looking for her. "What's going on here?" he asked Caseldra.
"This man with the strange, colored images on his body tried to attack me," she explained as she turned to walk calmly back toward the car. The truck driver was sprawled on his back, his shorts down around his knees, exposing himself.
"Nice snake," Scott said as he smiled down at the dazed man. He then hurried to catch up with his friend.
Jennifer woke up to an odd combination of smells. It was like someone brewing coffee in a musty, earthen cellar. She opened her eyes and took in the room which she occupied. It appeared to be a basement with stone walls and a dirt floor. That, at least, accounted for the earthy smell. There was a tiny window set high on one wall. It emitted the light of day through white, translucent paint that had been smeared over the glass. Dark shadows on the small panes showed that there were bars over the opening on the outside of the window. A solid, metal door was set in the wall just opposite of her.
Jennifer was stretched out on a dirty mattress which was covering a small metal cot. She slowly looked around and saw that this and a beat up old easy chair were the only pieces of furniture in the room. She could make out a body draped in the chair, apparently asleep from the sound of the deep, regular breathing. This must be a guard, she assumed. Moving as quietly as possible, and keeping her eyes sharply focused on the door, she tried to get up. The flat springs under the mattress creaked ominously, and she froze. The sound of the regular breathing never varied, so she continued her move. Finally getting to her feet, Jennifer slowly tip toed across the dirt floor to the door. She gripped the vertical bar that passed for a handle and pulled. The door clanked against a bolt and refused to open, but another sound caught her ear at the same time. The sleeper woke with a sneeze and realized she was trying to escape. "Hey!" he said.
Jennifer yanked and pulled on the door with all her strength, but it only clanked in place. She could hear the springs of the chair creak as her guard stood up. "Help! Help me, someone! Please!" she screamed as she tugged on the cold metal.
"Jen, Jen, it's me," the voice said as hands gripped her shoulders. She turned and looked at the guard, discovering it was her friend Troy. She fell into his arms and sobbed freely.
"God, I thought you were dead," she gasped between sobs.
"No way, girlfriend," he answered, taking her back to the cot and sitting down beside her.
"Where are we?" Jennifer asked as she tried to control her emotions.
"I don't know. In a basement somewhere. I think it must be out in the country since they don't seem to mind if we scream. Believe me, I've tried," he answered as he pushed his glasses back up on his nose.
"What are we doing here? What do they want from us?" she asked her friend.
"Detective Smithers, whose real name is Joe by the way, showed up with a gun and then blindfolded me and brought me here. Some other guy came in a while ago and dropped you on the bed, but no one will answer any questions or tell me why I'm here. I was hoping you might know something when you came to," he said.
"I wonder if they got Scott, too?" she said quietly.
"Scott? What are you talking about?" Troy asked.
"Troy, I was going to tell you on the phone last night but you didn't give me a chance. Scott came back!" she said excitedly. "Since he isn't here with us, he must have gotten away."
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked her.
"Yes, of course. Maybe he'll be able to get us out of here," she answered.
"Jen, Scott's dead," Troy told her. "We both saw him get killed over a year ago."
"No, he's alive!" she protested. "He said he was transported to another world or something. But now he's back."
"Sure, Jen, if you say so," he patronized her. "And I suppose the guy with the pointed ears came with him?"
"No, he came with a girl."
"A girl? That's not the Scott I knew," Troy said with a laugh. They lapsed into silence. Jennifer felt upset that Troy didn't believe her, but she still clung to the hope that maybe Scott could rescue them somehow.
After a time they heard sounds outside, and then a loud clanking. The metal door swung inward and a thin, plain looking woman with a pinched face stepped into the room. She wasn't wearing any makeup, but obviously looked like some would help. She carried a white sack with yellow arches on it. She also carried a small, lethal looking hand gun. "Here's your lunch," she said tossing the sack at Jennifer.
"What about me?" Troy asked.
"You're coming with me," she answered, gesturing to the door with the muzzle of her gun.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because Tony wants you. Now get moving," she ordered. Troy sat immobile beside Jennifer. The woman raised her weapon to arms length and aimed it directly at his head. "Of course I can always tell Tony you tried to get away and I had to kill you," she said with a wicked smile. Troy quickly got up and headed out the door. As he stepped through he turned to glance back at Jennifer. She tried to smile encouragingly. The woman gave him a shove with the barrel of her gun and then stepped through after him. The door clanked shut and Jennifer could hear the bolt fall into place.
She walked to the door and gave it an experimental tug. Just as she had expected, it banged and moved about a half an inch, but refused to open. She slammed her fist against it as hard as she could. Just to feel the pain in her hand was a validation of her existence. Jennifer slid down the cold metal door and ended up in a huddled heap on the packed, earthen floor. She sat therefor a long while, tears running down her face.
After a time, she felt hollow. There were no more tears inside her. The only thing left to her was action. She stood and walked to the window. It was mounted directly into the stone foundation and was designed to let in light, but not to open. She thought of breaking the glass, but there were bars on the outside, so it really wouldn't do her much good. Jennifer finally returned to the cot. Realizing that she was hungry, she opened the sack and looked inside. The contents were cold by now. She reached in and pulled out a yellow cardboard container of chicken nuggets. She hated chicken nuggets.