CHAPTER 6
Wynne and Brenda came to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at the agitated dog. Main Street was as empty as ever and even the airspace above it seemed devoid of any flying objects, unidentified or not. Wynne sniffed the air to test for traces of sulfur, but there didn't seem to be any - though for some reason, a strong whiff of garlic seemed to hover near the spot where they were.
Their apparent solitude failed to appease Blackie who was still locked into an aggressive stance. While her barks had grown fewer, she continued to scan their surroundings for any signs of hostile forces.
"Whazzamadda, girl? Ya sense som'tin?" Wynne said and crouched down in front of the German Shepherd. "Heah som'tin? Smell som'tin?"
Blackie made a brief pause in her barking to let out a gentler Woof-Woof-Woof! that meant 'Yes, but I don't want to hurt your feelings so I'll keep it to myself.'
"Haw, there ain't nuttin' he', girl… c'mon, les'get Brendah in da truck so I can get ovah ta that there sheriff's office an' give mah sweet, li'l Mandeh a propah smooch, yuh?" Wynne said and patted her thigh. Once she had her dog's attention, she pointed further down Main Street to get her to run to the Silverado.
Blackie let out another couple of woofs as she had a final look-see at their surroundings, but soon relaxed her stance and ran ahead.
"I wish I could train Vaughn to be that obedient," Brenda said and snickered into her hand.
Wynne stared at her friend; she pushed her hat forward to scratch her neck as they resumed strolling along the flagstones. "Okeh… ain't too sure whadda say ta that, but… uh… okeh."
Turning the corner and entering the mouth of the dark alley, Wynne dug into her rear pocket to find the key fob for her truck. Although she had a remote, she preferred to use the actual key to keep the keyhole free of the inevitable dust and sand that flew around everywhere - the shiny instrument was halfway over to the lock on the driver's side door when the darkness came alive and swooped down upon her.
She was given such a violent shove that she not only dropped the key fob but was slammed up against the side of her own truck - her beloved hat was blown clean off her dark tresses and ended up somewhere out of reach. "Holeh shittt! That there nasteh-ass sombitch be back! An' in a way-shitteh mood, too!" she cried as she spun around and covered her head with her arms.
Loud whooshing and the sound of a hundred flapping wings filled the narrow alley. The black shadow soon dove down toward Wynne and made a second pass that whipped her long hair into a frenzy; unseen hands clamped down on her shoulders and forced her back up against the Silverado. In the blink of an eye, the force changed from wanting to push her down to trying to lift her off the ground.
"Hoah! Whaddindahell?! Lemme go, ya sonova-bee!" Wynne roared as she swung her arms over her head in an attempt to get free - her quest was hindered by the chilling fact there didn't seem to be anything solid up there.
The surprise attack had stunned Brenda and Blackie into silence, but they soon broke it: Brenda by shrieking and Blackie by jumping into action teeth-first. Hopping up and down to try to catch a snippet of the shadowy being that held onto her owner, the German Shepherd barked at such volume that the hard noises made the windows rattle.
When her first attempts at snapping at the beast were fruitless, she stood up on her hind paws and leaned against the denim-clad woman to use her to increase her reach - the new approach worked and her fearsome canines were able to chomp hard on something solid hidden inside the black shadow.
Once she had locked her jaw around whatever she had bitten into, she wasn't about to let it go. She flung her head back and forth to either scare off the opponent or kill it stone dead.
Brenda jumped ahead as well and grabbed hold of Wynne's arm. A brief struggle for supremacy followed before the combined weight and strength of Blackie and she overpowered the unseen attacker.
An inhuman roar filled the dark alley as Blackie's sharp teeth dug into flesh. The dog's growls were joined by throaty grunts and otherworldly groans as the shadowy being tried to tear itself free of the jaws of doom - soon, large and small drops of a purple substance rained down upon the truck's black bodywork and parts of the ground.
"Yeeee-hawwwww! That's mah Blackie!" Wynne cried as she held onto the black fur that pressed against her. "Git that there sombitch! He done nabbed mah hat!"
A loud Rrrrrip! echoed through the dark alley - not a second later, the shadow disappeared like it had never been there. Blackie let out a puzzled bark as she found herself snapping at thin air all of a sudden. She moved back down on all four paws but kept up her vigilance in case of another sneak attack.
Wynne let out a triumphant whoop and moved away from the Silverado in a hurry. Spinning around while searching for the key fob she had dropped, she tried to sweep the curtain of hair out of her eyes so she would have a little more success in her endeavor.
While all that was going on, Brenda stared the sky around them with wide, spooked eyes. She whipped her head back and forth to take in as much as she could in as little time as possible, but her efforts were in vain as nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A split second later, the darkness came alive once more and went into an attack run. "Watch out! It's back!" she cried in a voice that was a good octave higher than usual.
Wynne looked up in a hurry - sure enough, the shadow whooshed past before it returned to hovering above them like a hole in the sky. "Awwwwww-shittt! That sombitch jus' ain't learned that there concept o' quittin'! An' I still ain't got no clue whe'ddahell them dang-blasted keys went!"
Before Blackie could get back up to try the teeth-first approach a second time, the shadow-being swooped down onto the ground where it landed as a shapeless bundle of darkness that just seemed to lie there.
"Now whaddindahell that there dog-gone thing be doin'?! Brendah! Run ovah ta them there de-per-ties an'-"
Before Wynne could finish the sentence, the bundle burst upward from the ground and transformed itself into a physical presence. A black cloak was spread out wide to reveal a tall figure with a trunk-like body and long arms. Where normal humanoids had fingers, the dark creature had inch-long claws that seemed to be able to tear a bull apart in a matter of seconds. Horns protruded from its oddly-shaped head; its face was pale-gray and featureless save for its eyes that shone like polished obsidian. As the creature let out a fierce roar, a wide mouth filled with fangs opened to add another terrifying aspect to its already sickening visage.
"Aw… shit… we… be… in… a… heap… o'… trubbel… now," Wynne croaked as she took a sliding step back from the horrific creature - even Blackie could only stare at their opponent, but Brenda snapped out of her fright and dug into her pocket at once.
Retrieving an orange tool that was one-and-a-half times the size of a lip balm, she flicked off the protective shield and cried "Cover your ears, Wynne! And Blackie's too!" at the top of her lungs.
"Whut?!"
"Cover your ears! And Blackie's! Hurry!"
"Lawwwwwr-die, I ain't got but two hands he', Brendah!"
"Wynne! Now!"
Wynne hurried behind Blackie, crouched down and put her hands over the dog's soft ears. "Awright, awright, awright, I be coverin' mah dawggie's eahs… but I be tellin' ya, she don't lack it when somebodda-"
Brenda had no time for complaints as the ghoul-like creature lurched toward her with no warning. Shrieking, she thrust the orange tool ahead intending to press the small button on its top, but the creature was faster and swatted it out of her hand with such force it made her cry out in pain.
As Wynne's rotten luck would have it, the orange tool cartwheeled through the air and gave her a fair-sized whack over her head before it rolled under the truck.
Brenda clutched her wrist and let out a pained hiss. She took a hasty step away to regroup; a moment later, she charged ahead to deliver a powerful kick to the creature's mid-section. The hard impact should have sent it flying, but the creature went into an immediate counterattack and swung its frightening claws at Brenda's face. She ducked to the side to avoid them, but lost her balance and ended up thumping into the brick wall.
"Aw, ya sonova-bee! Nobodda but nobodda gonn' take a swing at a friend o' mih-ne!" Wynne cried and jumped up; Blackie followed suit and engaged the creature teeth-first although it seemed to be less effective this time.
Wynne had already opened her mouth to add another few shouted curses when the beast grabbed hold of her and yanked her toward it with its strong arms. In no time flat, she found herself right next to the frightening creature, in particular its mouth that seemed to zero in on her neck. "Ohhhhhhhhhh-shittt!" she breathed while she tried to kick, knee and thump the beast in all the typical spots.
Nothing worked - save for her breath.
As the penetrating odor of Wynne's beer-and-garlic-laced oral fumes reached the creature's face, it let out an indignant howl and backed off at once. Though the beast kept its clawed hands on Wynne at first, it soon understood the connection between the person it held and the strong smell that almost made it cross-eyed.
Another howl of outrage escaped it as it threw Wynne aside and took a long step closer to Brenda instead - that Blackie tried her best to get her jaws of doggy-doom wrapped around anything substantial didn't seem to register with the tall beast.
Ending up in an unruly heap of humanity down on the ground did provide Wynne with an unexpected bonus: not only did she find her car keys but the orange tool as well. She grabbed it at once and tried to press the button like she had seen Brenda attempt to do. Her rotten luck struck again when she slammed her thumb onto the wrong end of the tool.
"Awwwww-whaddahell is this thing? Lawrdie, this ain't mah day! Brendah! Brendah, I be comin'!" she cried as she scrambled to her feet and held up the little tool once more.
"Turn it over!" Brenda yelled in a trembling voice; she delivered a hard punch to the beast's chest with the root of her fist, but it didn't care. An uppercut followed with zero success.
She had already brought up her leg to knee the creature across its trunk-like body when it blocked her move by yanking her toward it; it sniffed the air like it was testing the waters. When it found her scent to be far more rewarding, it roared and dove down toward her exposed neck.
"Whut?! Turn it ovah? Lack this?" Wynne said and flipped the tool over so the button was on the top. Letting out a whoop at the rare success, she slammed her thumb down onto it.
-*-*-*-
One minute earlier in the sheriff's office across Main Street.
Beatrice stood by the large windows and looked out onto the street. "I'm telling you… that was Blackie barking. I'm sure of it."
Barry, who sat at the watch desk while Rodolfo was out on foot patrol, shrugged and lit a new cigarette with the dying embers of the old one - the ashtray on the desk already resembled the fallout-zone on the day following a catastrophic volcanic eruption. "I didn't hear anything. Besides, that isn't the only large dog in Goldsboro."
"There's something going on across the street… dammit, if I could only see past that SUV…"
"Why don't you use your X-ray vision, deputy?" Barry said with a chuckle. The laugh triggered a brief coughing fit, but while he needed to clamp both hands onto the edge of the desk, he managed to keep everything inside this time.
"Why don't you just shut up?" Beatrice mumbled as she turned back to the windows for a second look. When nothing seemed to happen after all, she turned away - a split second later, a wall of noise exploded out of the alley and rolled across Main Street.
It made Barry jump a foot in the air and lose his brand new cigarette. The lit tip was involved in a head-on collision with his brown uniform pants where it burned a hole in the Polyester fabric before he could as much as let out a squeak. From there, the cigarette bounced off the seat of the chair and ended up on the cracked linoleum - it created a black scorch-mark and a column of dark-gray, foul-smelling smoke within moments. The burning Polyester seemed the most urgent of the problems at hand, so Barry snatched his mug of coffee and splashed it all over his smouldering pants.
"Sheriff!" Beatrice cried at the top of her lungs to alert Mandy who had gone into the crew room to look at some older files. "Barry, get Rodolfo back here now!"
"Oh, my pants-"
"Call him back, you lazy bum!" Beatrice cried before she whipped out her service firearm and flew out of the office.
At the exact same time, Mandy burst out of the crew room. She had already recognized the wall of noise as a personal attack alarm so she had her own weapon drawn. "Call Rodolfo at once! Unlock the gun cabinet in case we need more firepower!" she barked as she tore past the watch desk.
"But Sheriff, my pants were on fire-"
Barry only spoke to an empty office as the sheriff had already vacated the premises at a high rate of knots. A grunt escaped him as he stuck the errant cigarette back between his lips, grabbed the portable radio off the watch desk and hobbled back to the restroom to try to get the soaked fabric dry once more. "Base to Mobile Unit Two… base to Mobile Unit Two," he said as the door closed behind him.
---
Across the street, Brenda's Shrieker Alarm had done what all the ads claimed it could: the moment the wall of noise reverberated around the narrow alley, the truck and the people - and dog - present, the beast shied back from its intended victim. It transformed itself into a shadowy being at once and made a swift escape into the air.
Once up there, it hovered a good thirty feet off the ground before it let out a inhuman roar and took off toward Main Street with Blackie hot on its heels. The shadowy being followed the street until it reached the southern city limits sign - from there, it vanished without a trace into the dark evening.
It all left Blackie with nothing to chase, so she came to a gradual halt in the middle of the street while barking at the top of her lungs. Saving her breath for later, she made a couple of quick circles to find something else to chomp on, but nothing could be used as a substitute.
Lights had come on in several of the nearby houses as a result of the Shrieker Alarm going off at such an inappropriate hour, but since most of the residents knew of Goldsboro's reputation as Calamity Central, nobody had any desire to come out to see what was going on this time.
Blackie let out a string of disappointed woofs and turned back after realizing there would be no more action for a while. The disappointed woofing was soon followed by a happy one as she spotted Beatrice and Mandy running toward the scene of the incident.
Back in the alley, Wynne had watched the beast's final moments there with the sound turned off - all she could hear was white noise akin to the hum and buzz of TV-static back in the good old days.
She ran over to Brenda who sat slumped against the Silverado; the lady seemed none the worse for wear save for a white face and a pair of trembling lips. Those lips began to move soon after like she was speaking, but Wynne had yet to get her hearing re-calibrated to the correct frequency so the words were wasted on her.
Action had always spoken louder than words, so Brenda grabbed Wynne's face and pulled her down for a sloppy Thank You For Saving Me-kiss like the damsels in distress always did in the movies when they had been rescued by the big hero - that Mandy came flying around the corner at the exact same moment was rather typical of Wynne's luck regarding timing or the lack of same.
Although Mandy scratched her eyebrow at the sight, she abstained from making a comment. Instead, she holstered her firearm and crouched down next to her partner and their neighbor. When the strong odor that seemed to surround Wynne reached her nostrils, she couldn't help but crinkle her nose. "Wynne, are you all right?"
"Haw? Whazzat? Oh… howdy, darlin'!" Wynne said and pointed at her ears. "I ain't be hearin' nuttin' but them buzzin' bees an' a buncha whissels. Buzzin' bees an' whissels the whole steeh-nkin' tih-me. Nuttin' but them buzzin' bees an' whissels, dang'it…"
"Okay… Mrs. Travers, I suspect I don't have to ask what happened here. You were attacked by a shadow?"
"Yes…" Brenda croaked, "the darkness came alive. It attacked us… and when Blackie returned the favor, it turned into a hideous monster… Gawd, it was so ugly… long arms… black eyes… a mouthful of fangs! Nasty, nasty fangs…"
Mandy furrowed her brow at the worrying news; she turned around at the sound of a car approaching. Out on the street, Rodolfo brought one of the Durangos to a dust-flying halt and soon came running into the alley.
"Deputy Gonzalez, there's been a development in the case," Mandy said and got to her feet. "When Mrs. Travers and Miss Donohue were attacked by the shadow, it manifested itself as a creature."
"A real ugly one!" Brenda added, nodding hard.
"Right," Mandy continued as she turned back to face Rodolfo, "so I need you to go over to the office and get the Mossbergs and every shell you can carry. Deputy Simms has already unlocked the cabinet."
Rodolfo Gonzalez whipped his hand up for a quick salute before he spun around and took off. A call of "Wait!" made him stop and look at the sheriff once more.
"Where's Deputy Reilly?"
"Down at the city limits sign, Sheriff. She and Blackie are searching the edge of the desert for tracks."
"All right. Thank you. Get those Mossbergs," Mandy said before she took the portable radio off her utility belt.
While Rodolfo saluted again and took off to get the heavy weaponry, Mandy pressed the transmit key. "Mobile Unit One to Mobile Unit Three. Mobile Unit One to Mobile Unit Three, over."
'Mobile Unit Three on the line, Sheriff. Go ahead, over,' Beatrice said over the radio. Though the tinny quality made it sound like she was transmitting from the dark side of the moon, she was in reality a mere three-hundred yards south of the alley.
"There's no point in doing ground recon, Deputy. This thing is airborne. Return to the alley next to Miss MacKay's. I need an extra pair of hands. Over."
'Yes, Ma'am. Returning at once. Mobile Unit Three out.'
"Whazzat?" Wynne said while shoving most of her pinkies into her auditory canals to get the arrays of little antennas pointed in the right direction once more. It was hard work, but it paid off as at least some of the whistling and most of the buzzing bees seemed to exit stage-left to find someone else's hearing to haunt.
Mandy attached the radio to her utility belt before she turned to Wynne: "Deputy Reilly will-"
"Haw? Whazzat, darlin'?"
While Brenda let out a snicker, Mandy scrunched up her face. "I'll tell you later. Miss Travers, were you hurt in the attack?"
"Well, no… I got a little thump on my shoulder, but that was from losing my balance," Brenda said and rubbed the aforementioned body part. "I gave that ugly thing a work-over that should have sent it into the next county, but it didn't even flinch. Gawd, I've never trembled so hard in my life. Not even when I tried bungee jumping some years ago and one of the cords snapped…"
"You're not driving home alone."
"I can't drive anywhere… my car won't start," Brenda said in a voice that trailed off.
"All right. Perhaps you should call your husband-"
Brenda let out a deep sigh and shook her head. "Vaughn's down in Cavanaugh Creek, Sheriff. I don't want to make him worried when nothing happened. Gawd, I can't believe the Shrieker Alarm actually worked. It should for eighty dollars, but… you know?"
"Well, it certainly worked," Mandy said with a half-smile. "I'd say you woke up half the town. And half of those will be by the sheriff's office tomorrow with a complaint."
"I'm sorry…"
When Blackie and Beatrice arrived as a tag team, the German Shepherd flew over to Wynne while the deputy ran over to the sheriff and the lady sitting on the ground.
"There's mah dawggie! Yessirree!" Wynne said as she gave the black fur a solid rubbing. "Good shit almighteh, girl, I prolleh owe ya mah lih-fe an' all! If we make it hoah-me without furthah bull dung bein' flung ou-ah way, I'mma-gonn' give ya theeee biggest treat in that there dawggie bowl o' yers that y'all can imagine!"
Woof! Woof-woof-woof!
"Aw-sure! O' course y'all can share with ou-ah darlin' Goldie all ya lack! Shoot, if onleh them buzzin' bees hadden been in mah eahs an' mah noggin, I woudda been drivin' us hoah-me alreddeh!" Wynne said before she went back to rubbing the dog's fur.
Mandy and Beatrice helped Brenda on her feet - it was clear from her wobbling stance that she had been more spooked than she let on. "Deputy, please help Mrs. Travers into the restaurant. Get her something sugary to drink. I think the shock will strike soon."
"Yes, Sheriff," Beatrice said as she wrapped an arm around Brenda's upper body to provide support for the short trek back to Moira's.
Once they were alone, Mandy crouched down next to her partner. "Wynne… you're not driving home either. It's far too dangerous with that thing still on the loose."
"Aw, but-"
"You're not driving home. End of discussion. Can you stand?"
"Sure. I been standin' bah mahself since I wus 'bout two or som'tin. Mebbe youngah, I don't recall," Wynne said and got to her feet. A random glance over her shoulder at her mat-black Silverado yielded a bonus she hadn't counted on: "Mah hat! Awwwww-mah hat!" she cried as she stood up on the rear wheel's hub to reach the battered, bruised, dented and sweat-stained cowboy hat.
The old, shapeless cowboy hat was soon back on her dark locks where it belonged. Running a finger across the rim, Wynne ended the little seance by pulling it down over her right eye to look her coolest and sexiest. "Yuh. Watch out, all y'all sneakeh snakes an' big nasties o' the wohhhh-rld. The Las' Oh-riginal Cowpoah-ke iz back ta kick ya buhhh-tts from he' ta kingdom coh-me!"
"And tonight, the Last Original Cowpoke will sleep on her own floor of the B-and-B. I'm sure Miss MacKay won't mind lending out a pair of rooms for Mrs. Travers and you," Mandy said and hooked an arm inside Wynne's.
"Naw, that ain't gonn' be no trubbel… but lissen, I can drive hoah-me jus' fih-ne, Mandeh… yuh, that sombitch was an ugleh cuzzin' awright, but when it done attacked me, there wus som'tin that made it shah back. I ain't too sure whut, but-"
"I have an idea," Mandy said and let out a tired laugh.
"Haw? Wouldya mind cluein' me in, there, Sheriff Mandeh, 'cos I be beginnin' ta think I ain't got no ideah 'bout nuttin' no mo'…" Wynne said while scratching her neck.
Mandy glanced at the mouth of the alley - in case Beatrice Reilly would return - before she stood up on tip-toes to place a kiss on Wynne's cheek. "Well, even if nothing had happened and we would have been at home, you would have been sleeping on the couch tonight, hon," she said in a calmer, friendlier voice.
"Merceh Sakes, that sure don't sound too good… whut? I ferget ta do som'tin? Lemme have it, I be a big girl an' all…"
"How many extra-extra-garlic burgers did you have tonight?"
"I didden have aneh! I had two o' Slow Lane's dog-gone fih-ne chili burgahs… I mean… that's whut I done ordah'd, anyhows… wait, lemme… lemme test."
Wynne held up her hand so she could breathe into it - the results made her just as cross-eyed as the shadow creature had become when it came face-to-face with her breathing.
"Lawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwr-die! Whaddinda-wohhhh-rld?!" she cried and wiped her hand on her pants at once like it would make the penetrating scent go away. "A.J., yo ass is grass an' mah foot's a dang-blasted lawn-mowah! Y'all bettah run, pal, 'cos this he' Cowpoke gonn' be havin' a wohhhhh-rd with y'all!"
"He can't hear you, hon…"
"Yuh? Well, he be abouttah! C'mon, Sheriff Mandeh, this he' mebbe gonn' be a job fer them de-per-ties befo' long!" Wynne continued as she stomped along the alley and made a sharp left-hand turn onto the sidewalk.
Chuckling, Mandy reached down to give Blackie a little scratch behind the ears before they set off for the Bar & Grill and the Wild West showdown that was sure to take place in there.
-*-*-*-
Mandy held the door open for Wynne so the glass wouldn't shatter from her foul mood or the foul whiff of garlic that followed her wherever she went.
Blackie just let out a puzzled Woof? at the whole thing. She had held back from making a comment about her owner's strong scent, but it appeared that others hadn't been so considerate. Glancing up, she noted the grim expression but was unsure of the need for a supportive growl or not.
Wynne barged in like a latter-day John Wayne hot on the trail of the Clantons, the Daltons, the Forrestals, the Johnsons, the James-Younger gang, the self-appointed Colonel Bartholomew Stuart's Pennsylvania Freedom Militia or simply Anthony Joseph 'Slow' Lane - it didn't matter which since they were all bad.
She came to a stop just inside the door and slammed her hands onto her hips. Her annoyed eyes made a slow sweep of the establishment that had longer opening hours than normal to accommodate the film's various crews who had to work late.
Mandy chuckled and allowed Blackie to run over to the doggy-cave underneath the pool table. Although the table itself was occupied by someone playing, the black dog slipped into the cave without any hassle.
"Tell you what, Wynne," Mandy said for her partner's ears only. "I'll be over at the office if you need me. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Okay?"
"Okeh, Sheriff."
"Thanks, pardner," Mandy said with a grin before she left Moira's Bar & Grill.
The hands of time had moved close to ten-thirty so there was little going on inside the popular eatery. Most of the regular patrons and barflies had already left for home because they needed to get up bright and early to be in Silver Creek for their costume fitting, but some were still around:
Wyatt Elliott and Mary-Lou Skinner enjoyed their daily nightcap. The teenager Kenny Tobin ate a burger meal before his late-late job would begin at a quarter past eleven - for the past two months, he had been the usher, candy distributor and popcorn popper at the movie theater for their biweekly showings of cult classics at midnight.
Brenda Travers had been given a can of South Pacific Tropical Fruits Squash - produced by the H.E. Fenwyck Breweries under their Sunny Dreamz brand - and a sandwich from the refrigerators to help her overcome the fright. Judging by the way she nipped at the food, it didn't seem to go down too well. When she noticed she was being watched, she offered Wynne a smile and a small wave that was responded to by a tip of a cowboy hat.
A couple of guys that Wynne had a vague recollection of seeing out at the film set played pool and video keno. Her former bandit companion at the firepit scene, Brad Hutchins, sat at one of the tables reading a newspaper and sipping a dark draft.
A.J. Lane was nowhere in sight, so it was time to take the next step: "Anehbodda know whe' Ah can find that there Slow Lah-ne?" she said in an insistent tone of voice that seemed to carry an even stronger dialect than usual.
Brad, whose bandit character had been mauled by the fictitious ghoul, glanced up at the empty counter at the bar before he turned back to look at Wynne. "Is that the young fella pretending to be a short-order cook?"
"Yessir."
"He was there a couple of minutes ago. Maybe he's out back somewhere," the stuntman said before he returned to his newspaper and his beer.
"Much obliged, Brad," Wynne said and set off for the row of bar stools and the shiny counter beyond them. When she walked, a faint echo of jingling spurs could be heard though she didn't wear any.
Reaching the bar counter, she only had to wait for a short minute for the object of her desire - or target of her manhunt - to appear. "Son, I got-a boh-ne ta pick wit'cha," she said in a voice that went into its lowest register.
"Uh… uh… with… with me?" A.J. squeaked. As always, the young man in his mid-twenties wore a white apron over his regular combination of blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt - the latter would protect his arms from the inevitable droplets of scorching-hot grease that were flung around from the frying pans, the French fry baskets and the cooking stove. His face grew pale when he caught a glimpse of the mask of supreme annoyance that had been etched onto Wynne's features.
"Yuh. Lookie he', son… I done ordah'ed two o' them there chili-burgahs o' yers. I paid good moneh for 'em even tho' Moira done tole me I can eat he' fer free. Hell, I gave ya a fih-ve dollar tip, didden I? So whaddahell ya gimme two o' them dog-gone garlic burgahs fer, then?!"
"But… I didn't-"
To offer undeniable proof of the crime against humanity, Wynne leaned forward and breathed in 'Slow' Lane's direction - the young man shied back in a hurry.
"Yuh? Yuh? Smell whut I mean? Lawrdie, I be stinkin' up the whole dang-blasted place an' y'all tell me ya didden make no garlic burgahs?! Well, lemme tell ya som'tin, son! Mah sweet, li'l Sheriff Mandeh jus' done tole me I woudda been sleepin' on that there couch tanite had we been hoah-me 'cos I be stinkin' so bad! O' that there garlic, but I sure as stink-on-shoot didden ordah no garlic-burgahs so I sure as stink-on-shoot coudden ha' gotten no garlic-burgahs, neithah, could I?! Ya heah me, there, Mista Slow Lah-ne? Jus' nod yer head if ya ain't fit fer tawkin'!"
"I don't know what you're talking about! I made two chili-burgers!"
"Ya want me ta breathe on y'all ag'in? Naw? Wotcha done made wus two garlic-burgahs! Stinkarooneh garlic-burgahs!"
"I didn't! Honest!" A.J. Lane said and reached for the glass jar of spices he had found in the storage room. "Look, Wynne, this is what I used… I ran out of ground chili powder after the first one so I took the next glass… wait a minute… no, this can't be it," he said after reading the label that stated it was made of 15% red paprika, 15% dried chili and 70% granulated garlic - it was soon put back on the small shelf underneath the bar counter.
A short while later, he picked up the supposedly wrong glass jar again and re-read the label. "Yeah, this was the one I used. Uh… I'm sorry. And the smell isn't really that bad. Except when you, uhhhh… get too close."
Wynne opened her mouth and drew a deep breath to break out into a new long-winded moan-and-groan, but the hang-dog look on A.J.'s face meant she just didn't have the heart to punish him even further. "Yuh… okeh. I forgive ya. Jus' don't do it ag'in, ya heah? Read the dang label the next tih-me. Have a nih-ce evenin', son," she said and tipped her hat before she strode over to the refrigerators to get something cold to drink.
A long sigh escaped her as she clapped eyes on an empty shelf where the H.E. Fenwyck Double Zero non-alcoholic beers used to be. Although there were plenty of cans of 1910 Special Brew, Midnight Velvet Stouts and even the Extra-Strongs, it would not take an engineer of advanced Reindeer Flight Dynamics to figure out she would pass out on the spot if she had a strong beer after the long and strenuous day she'd had.
Thus, she grabbed a can of Coke, strode back to the counter to get a tumbler, went over to the ice cream freezer to pour some crushed ice into it and then returned to the counter all over again to get 'Slow' Lane to slice a lemon for her.
-*-*-*-
Three of Goldsboro's four law enforcement officers were out scouring the mean streets for signs of the shadow creature. The fourth - Barry - sat at the watch desk with his arms folded over his chest like a petulant child. He only wore the upper half of his brown uniform as the pants were still too soggy, but at least he had been allowed to hop into the spare pair of jeans he kept in his locker in the crew room.
A world-class pout tainted his waxen, sickly face as he glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite to where he sat. The first call for Santa Claus Conquers The Martians was about to be given up at the movie theater, but it would do so without him regardless of the fact he had bought a ticket two weeks in advance - at least he had a stack of crossword and sudoku puzzles, the Sally Swackhamer novel, a fresh pot of coffee, a secret bag of hazelnut-chip cookies and a full pouch of home-rolled cigarettes at his disposal.
"I'm gonna be really annoyed if the sheriff forces me to miss Reefer Madness in two weeks' time…" he mumbled, but the crackle of the radio made him pipe down.
'Mobile Unit Two to base. Mobile Unit Two to base, over,' Beatrice's voice said from the portable radio that had a permanent place on the watch desk.
After taking the latest cigarette out of his mouth, Barry reached for the radio and pressed the large transmit key. "Unit Two, that's not your correct call sign. You're Unit Three, over."
'No, Barry, I'm Unit Two. There's a sticker on my radio that says so. Over,' Beatrice continued in an annoyed voice.
"Well, Beatrice," Barry said in a tone that touched upon the mocking, "you obviously took the wrong radio. You are Unit Three. The sheriff is always Unit One, Senior Deputy Gonzalez is always Unit Two… which makes you Unit Three. Over."
'And what does that make you? Unit Big, Fat Zero?'
Barry was about to shoot off his mouth at his female colleague when the sheriff's voice came over the air waves in a loud and clear fashion: 'That's enough! This isn't a kindergarten! Deputy Reilly, state your report and move on. Deputy Simms, a little more respect for your fellow officers is in order. Unit One out!'
Grumbling under his breath, Barry almost depressed the transmit key to answer the sheriff when he realized there was little point. He shrugged as he lit a new cigarette with the dying embers of the old one - the tiny stump was soon transferred onto the mountainous pile of ash, spent matchsticks and other types of smoking residue that resided in the glass ashtray on the watch desk.
'Mobile Unit Two to base. Mobile Unit Two to base, over,' Beatrice said for a second time.
"Go ahead, Unit Two."
'Finished patrolling near the auto repair shop and the gas pumps. There's nothing to report here. Proceeding west on the narrow trail that runs alongside Kulick's used-car lots. Unit Two Out.'
Barry grunted and leaned forward to update the manual patrol index he kept. After brushing what had to be half a pound's worth of cigarette ash and hazelnut-chip cookie crumbs off the sheet of paper, he jotted down Beatrice's initials, the time stamp when she had called in and the spot where the patrol had taken place. He finished off updating the patrol index by adding a minus-symbol in the field labeled Further Action Required?
A few minutes went by with little content save for a noisy sequence of munching on the crunchy cookies and slurping hot coffee. In between munching, crunching, slurping and taking deep puffs from his cigarette, Barry let out a whole string of despondent sighs as the clock moved closer to the starting time for Santa Claus Conquers The Martians.
'Mobile Unit Three to base. Mobile Unit Three to base, over,' Rodolfo said over the radio.
"Base listening, Mobile Unit Three. What do you have, Senior Deputy?"
'Nothing. The impound yard and the alley leading to Grant Lafferty's Beer and Liquor Imports have been checked thoroughly. They're both clean and green. Moving north at the eastern end of the alley to cross over to the lawns behind Mrs. Peabody's boarding house. Unit Three out.'
Barry grunted and began updating the patrol index, but before he could add much, the radio crackled to life again and the sheriff's voice was heard loud and clear:
'Mobile Unit One to base. Mobile Unit One to base, over.'
Not wanting to forget what Rodolfo had just told him, Barry depressed the transmit key at once to say: "Stand by, Sheriff."
'Write faster, Deputy Simms! I'm at Mr. Elliott's hardware store on Second. Nothing to report here. I'll make a sweep of the alleys and pathways in the new section of town. Once I'm done there, I'll head to the alley adjacent to Miss MacKay's establishment in case the assailant returns to the latest crime scene. Mobile Unit One out.'
A groan that grew prolonged escaped Barry's throat as he made the ball point pen fly across the index sheet to update it with the sheriff's barrage of information. Once he had done that, he moved a line up to finish adding Rodolfo's report - and came to a stuttering halt.
He took an extra-deep puff on his latest cigarette in an attempt to get his smoke-tinted brain to remember what the senior deputy had told him, but it was all gone. It didn't even help to slurp some coffee and nab another hazelnut-chip cookie.
Once the cigarette had been smoked and replaced by a new one, he tapped his fingers on the desk top for a moment before he reached for his own telephone to call Rodolfo to get him to repeat what he had said earlier - if he used the portable radio, the sheriff could listen in which wouldn't be beneficial for anyone.
-*-*-*-
Over at Moira's Bar & Grill, the inevitable emotional reaction to the frightening assault had caught up with Brenda. After the initial surge of adrenaline had subsided, rawness filled the void left behind by the temporary boost. A long sigh escaped her; her hands had gained a slight tremble. When she looked at them, a few tears fell that made her cheeks glisten.
Wynne circled the pool table playing a few test frames against herself. She was about ready to drop but refused to go to the bed-and-breakfast before she'd had a chance to say a proper goodnight to her partner. A huge yawn cracked her face wide open before she leaned down to line up the next shot. The rental cue was aimed and primed for a fair-sized thrust, but she realized from one moment to the next that the game had lost its charm somewhere along the way.
Shrugging, she racked the rental cue and collected the colorful balls. A slight snoring from the doggy-cave underneath the pool table proved that Blackie had already taken the journey to dreamland - the sound made Wynne even more tired, and another yawn split her face in half.
She shuffled back to the table where Brenda sat. She had intended to have a late-night conversation about this, that, everything else and nothing at all to stay awake, but came to a halt when she spotted the tears that trickled down her friend's cheeks. "Yuh, I know… jus' let it out, there, Brendah," she said in a quiet voice as she knelt next to the weeping woman to be at eye-level with her.
The situation required urgent physical contact, so when Brenda put out her arms in a silent request for a hug, Wynne reacted in time-honored fashion. A few more tears were shed that stained the shoulder of Wynne's blue denim jacket, but the hug seemed to help as Brenda was even able to let out a trembling chuckle. "Oh, I don't want you to get in trouble again… it was bad enough that Mandy saw me kissing you…"
"Dontcha worreh 'bout that, Brendah. Ain't nuttin' or nobodda could evah come between mah darlin' Mandeh an' me. She done knows that fer a fact," Wynne said with a smile.
Brenda looked up at the compact, athletic woman who had just entered the bar and grill - the person came over to the table to watch the hug-in-progress. "Yeah, but still…" Brenda said and winked at the uniformed woman standing behind Wynne.
"Naw. Ain't no 'still' 'bout it. That jus' be how it is."
Behind the kneeling Wynne, Mandy let out a tired chuckle as she took off her Mountie hat and sat down with a bump on the nearest chair. "Very true. Once you've achieved the ultimate you can ever hope for, why look elsewhere?"
Wynne moved back from the hug and offered Mandy a broad grin. "Yuh, that jus' 'bout sums it up. Howdy, Sheriff Mandeh! Lawrdie, y'all look dead on yer feet… an' that's sittin' down!"
"Yeah. What a day it's been," Mandy said and rubbed her face. A long sigh escaped her as she propped her head up on her arm. "And tomorrow will be even worse. Despite being up to our necks in serious law enforcement matters, we have to provide on-set security down at the Silver Creek location!"
"Aw-"
"Dammit!" Mandy said and thumped her fist onto the table - the impact made the salt and pepper shakers dance about. "If the Town Council hadn't forced my hand, I would never have signed those permits. Goldsboro isn't big enough for such a circus. We simply don't have the manpower."
"Naw… an' it sure is weird how that there nasteh-ass sombitch shadow crittah done showed up at the exact same tih-me them mooh-vie folks did. Mebbe somebodda been dabblin' in that there black magic an' summoned the fellow lack in that there ol' horrah mooh-vie… shoot, I fergot the tih-tel."
The three women pondered that for a while before Brenda gathered her things. "Well, I think I'll make a graceful exit now. Thanks for the hug, Wynne. It really helped."
"Aw, anehtih-me, there, Brendah. Lissen, Moira an' me got that there room three-twentah-one all set up an' reddeh fer ya. Jus' go ovah ta Moira's office an' knock on that there doah an' ask fer them keys. There be fresh linen on da bed an' clean towels fer da showah an' evry'thin'. An' it be a Foh-rd themed room, too, so that be jus' purr-fect, yuh?"
Brenda furrowed her brow and shot Wynne a puzzled look that proved that a vital part of the message had flown right past her. "A Ford-themed room? What does that mean?"
"Well… y'all be drivin' a Foh-rd, yuh? An' the twentah-one cah-r, yuh? Them Wood Brothahs… ya know… the legendareh famileh team from ol' Virginiah who done sappahrted Nasca-hr all them yeahs in both good tih-mes an' bad, yuh? Them fellas started in nineteen-fifteh an' they be one o' the few Foh-rd teams I evah done rooted fer 'cos o' their tradi-shun, yuh? Brendah… y'all ain't got no clue whaddindahell I be yappin' 'bout, do ya?"
"None," Brenda said and broke out in a snicker. After winking at Mandy, she dove in to place a quick kiss on Wynne's cheek. "But I'll find out. Thank you. I'll see you guys tomorrow. I just need to knock on Moira's office door to get the key?"
"That's a big ten-foah, good buddeh," Wynne said and broke out in a grin.
Once Brenda had left for the office, Mandy took her Mountie hat and got up from her chair. "I better walk her there. Unlike us, she's new to all these supernatural hostiles. I don't want her to be frightened all over again."
"That be good thinkin', yes Ma'am. I be waitin' he' fer ya so we can wah-k tagethah aftahwards, 'cos I realleh need one o' them there kisses that ain't suited fer a wider aw-dience… know what I mean?"
Mandy grinned and donned her hat. Before she could reply, the glass door was slammed open and a four-strong group of burly construction workers from the film set swarmed into the bar and grill. The bearded fellow at the head of the group bellowed: "Yo, the party starts now! Bar keep, start pouring them brews! Ey, didn't ya hear me? Where the hell's the beer?"
The grin was wiped clean off Mandy's face as she spun around and strode over to the loud guests. "Sir, may I suggest you and your companions tone it down a bit?"
"Oh, yeah? Tell ya what, Officer Butch, we'll shut up once our bellies are full of beer. Okay?" Grinning, the bearded fellow turned to his co-workers to make a derogatory hand gesture at Mandy's expense.
Mandy took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. She managed to get a neutral expression onto her face before she said: "I'm afraid you need to tone it down before any beer will be served."
"Says who?"
"The Sheriff of Goldsboro."
"Wake us up when he gets here!" the bearded fellow said and broke out in a loud, obnoxious belly laugh - his three companions joined in at once.
That was Wynne's cue to enter the fray. Donning her cowboy hat and pushing it forward to make it sit low and dangerous, she came over to stand next to Mandy.
"Oh, what the hell is this?" the bearded fellow said. "Butch and Butcher? What the hell kinda bar are we at, anyway?"
Out back, the fiery Moira MacKay had been alerted by the shouting and came into the restaurant itself to see what was going on. It only took the experienced innkeeper a moment to understand the confrontation. Stomping over to the four men, she drew a sharp breath. "You, you, you and you," she barked while pointing at each of them in rapid succession, "are now the proud owners of a lifetime ban for this bar and grill and the hotel. Congratulations! Now, walk out or be thrown out. Your choice!"
Wynne had to swallow the belly laugh that had already made its presence felt at the back of her throat. She grinned at the apparent mismatch between Moira and the four burly men, but knew that though she was shorter and far more slender, her fiery nature and fighting spirit overpowered them all.
"Hey, wait a minute," the bearded man said, "you can't do that! The studio has already paid for our rooms-"
"Too bad, buster! If you're not out of here in five seconds-"
The bearded man flipped his middle fingers at Moira, Mandy and Wynne to pay back the earlier favor. "Goddammit, let's get out of here before those bulls cut off our dicks!" he said and pushed his companions back out of the Bar & Grill.
Mandy followed them onto the sidewalk to make sure they did in fact leave. The men filed into an old crew-cab truck and took off at full throttle - the action produced reams of tire smoke and left a pair of fat, black lines on the street. She remained there until she lost sight of the red taillights in the darkness of the night.
Wynne, Brenda and a doggy-yawning Blackie soon joined the sheriff. Brenda shook her head and let out a quiet laugh. "There's never a dull moment with you two… is there? Gawd, they ought to make a movie out of your exploits, not some fictional nonsense like that horror Western…"
"Yuh, well…" Wynne said and hooked her arm inside Brenda's - Mandy did the same on the other side of their neighbor - "les' jus' say we done trah'd that an' it didden work," she continued as they strolled along the sidewalk to get to the entrance of the Bed & Breakfast.
"Oh…"
A huge yawn threatened to break Wynne's face in half. "Pardon me," she said and smacked her lips.
"Which room will you sleep in tonight, Wynne?" Brenda said and leaned toward her denim-clad companion.
"Aw, I be in da broom cupboard on da third floah. Naw, it ain't realleh that small, but it ain't one o' them there reg'lar rooms, neithah. It be kinda lack the utiliteh room. Anyhows, I got an ol' armeh bunk in there an' ev'rehthin'. That be good enuff fer the likes o' me."
Down on the sidewalk, Blackie let out a happy Woof! that meant 'and I even have a deluxe doggy basket that's better than the one Goldie and I share at home!'
"A broom cupboard? Oh, but that sounds so uncomfortable. I wouldn't mind if you crashed in my room, Wynne…"
"Naw. Much obliged, there, Brendah, but that ain't gonn' work. That be whe' I be drawin' that there lih-ne in da sand ev'rehbodda keep tawkin' 'bout."
"Honest, it wouldn't be a problem…"
"Yuh it would," Wynne said with a grin, " 'cos three-twentah-one onleh got a queen-sized single. Not a dubbel an' not two reg'lar singles, neithah."
Brenda let out a snicker and gave Wynne's arm a little squeeze. "Ooops! Well, okay. Point taken. I guess we'll see each other at six, six-fifteen tomorrow morning, then?"
"Yuh, somewhe' 'round that tih-me. Lawrdie. Anyhows, I got them keys fer them refri-geh-ratahs an' the storage so we can get some milk an' cereal an' othah breakfast stuff. Yuh?"
"Works for me! I'm actually kinda excited about tomorrow," Brenda said with a smile. "Gawd, I hope we've seen the last of that creature… at least it'll be a daytime shoot down in Silver Creek. What can go wrong when the sun's out?"
Wynne, Blackie and Mandy shared a brief three-way look before the latter moved over to the glass door to the Bed & Breakfast and held it open. "Here we are. Have a good night, Mrs. Travers."
"Thank you, Sheriff! You too," Brenda said before she entered the small lobby that led to the staircase.
"Honey," Mandy continued at a volume meant for her partner's ears only. "I need to go over to the office to smack some sense into Barry, but I promise I'll pay you a visit in ten minutes' time. Then we can say good night the proper way. Garlic or no garlic."
"Y'all sure got a deal, there, Sheriff Mandeh! I'mma-gonn' take the oppahr-tuniteh ta brush them teeth o' mine… an' mebbe gurgle some windah cleanah or som'tin," Wynne said with a grin before she followed her neighbor into the lobby and up the flight of stairs.
Mandy chuckled as she closed the door. While Beatrice Reilly made another fruitless situation report over the radio, the sheriff strode across Main Street to bring her chain-smoking colleague up-to-date on a few issues regarding proper radio procedure and the required respect between fellow law enforcement officers.
*
*