Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-4893169-20151013235142

The Last Day of October--Short Hoggers

Ch. 6--Night Visitors

It was close to midnight when Kes awoke. For a minute or two, she lay there and blinked bewilderedly up at the ceiling. Then she sat up, rubbed her eyes and stared fixedly at the window.

A sharp tapping had sounded against the pane. She sat very still, listening carefully but did not hear the sound again. What could it had been? she thought as she laid back down. The wind? A branch scraping against the glass? No, the weather forecast had said it would be a calm night with a bit of fog and there weren’t any trees close enough to tough the cottage. It had to have been an animal then--maybe even a bat or an owl brushing up against the glass. That sounds reasonable, more reasonable than someone running around late at night, knocking on windows to freak people out.

Kes felt her eyelids growing heavy as her mind started drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Tap, tap--tap, tap, tap, tap

She sat up quickly, eyes widening as they stared at the window.

No. That definitely wasn’t an animal. Must be a bunch of bratty kids then.

Tap, tap, tap, tap--tap, tap, tap

Clutching the covers, she pulled them up to her neck. She didn’t want to get out of bed. The night was disagreeably cold--unaccountable so for the middle of summer. The air also felt clammy like that of a damp cellar, and there was also a peculiar smell--kind of like cheap perfume mixed with stagnant seawater.

Tap, tap--tap, tap, tap, tap

Nope, Kes thought as she burrowed deeper underneath her blankets. No way. Uh-huh. I’m not getting up for some damn stupid kids. I’m just going to sit tight and let them think I’m a heavy sleeper then maybe they’ll get bored and go away...hopefully.

Rolling herself up tighter in her blankets, she lay quite still, occasionally glancing at the window which was lit up in silvered moonlight. Just as she was finally dozing off, she was roused by an entirely different noise.

Knock, knock--knock, knock, knock, knock

“Oh freak this!”

Furious and wide awake, Kes threw back the covers as her feet hit the cold floor.

“What the deuce is this, waking people up in the middle of the blooming night?” she muttered. “Freak! It’s like Fimbulwinter in here!”

Bleary-eyed, she stomped toward the door. “Hey doofuses ! I’m trying to get some shut-eye here!”

Then she stopped suddenly when she felt the intense cold on her bare feet, the cold that was seeping through the cracks around the door.

Her spine tingled as her hair rose on end. Instinctively, she took several steps back, and as she did, she heard a voice call out from the other side of the door.

Her spine tingled as her hair rose on end. Instinctively, she took several step back, and as she did, she heard a voice call out from the other side of the door.

“It’s me. Vanessa. Let me in! It’s cold!”

“Vanessa?” Despite the cold, Kes started walking toward the door. “What are you doing? It’s late!”

“I got something to tell something to tell you!” Vanessa called out. “Something very important. Just open the...”

“Look,” Kes interrupted. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow? It’s 12 A. M. You ought be in--” She nearly stumbled over Miss Tabitha suddenly brushing up against her ankles. The cat had her ears back, and was growling away furiously.

Glancing back at the door again, and a new shudder rippled down her frozen spine. Embedded under the edge of the door and into the door frame were several dozen cutlasses, daggers and dirks--the types used back in the Golden Age of piracy. Nowadays, you only see these sorts of weapons in museums or in the possession of historical hobbyists. But while the blades put on the display were just inert metal, the ones dug deep around the door were of a completely different nature. These weren’t toys to be trifle with by enthusiasts or fools in garish pretentious costumes. These polished blades most likely had ferocious wills of their own, they mean business, and Kes was right now wondering if this was the “Something” that Vanessa wanted to talk to her about. Were these living weapons possibly a midsummer present that now the goth was now having second thoughts about? Would Vanessa really do something really crazy like this?

Kes didn’t know. All she wanted now was not to remain here any longer. Not in this living room, not even in this house. She backed away from the front door, edging toward the back. Then her jaw fell open as her trembling hands brushed against coarse rope. Jerking around, she stood as rigid as a dressmaker’s dummy, staring at the taut heavy rope criss-crossing the door, securely attached to various grappling hooks, belaying pins and marlin spikes.

“Unblock the peephole, Kes,” it pleaded. “Unblock it if you wanna hear a secret. Please, you got to come in close. Come a bit closer then and unseal the barrier.” The “peephole” was actually a natural knothole. Shortly after she moved in, Kes had sealed it up with plaster of Paris to keep out the drafts and any befuddled wildlife mistaking the door for a hollow tree.

THUMP! THUMP--THUMP! ‭THUMP! THUMP! THUMP

She stood rigid in her loose-fitting pajamas, sweating beading her ashen face. Shivering, she watched as the door creaked inward, scraping against the tightly-wedged blades. Another heavy thumping, but the blades bit deep into the surrounding timber and threshold, yet the door held. There were strange garbled words that instantly filled her with dread and sick revulsion. Then the very weighty tread of very heavy feet crunching on the gravel walk, waiting.

The definitely didn’t sound like Vanessa. She wouldn’t have shown up unannounced in the middle of the night, she wouldn’t be pleading in a sniveling-sort of manner like a brattling child, and certainly wouldn’t be strong enough to shake the entire door with her fists. Something else stood outside instead, something large, hefty and very formidable, but still needed help to gain entry. Something that would require an immediate and “permanent” response.

Walking stilly like that of a somnambulant, Kes went into her bedroom and carefully fetched down her “surprise.”

The “Surprise” in question sat in the wooden rack near her bed. This wasn’t the bow and arrows that Kes used for hunting nor the repeating Gerdin crossbow that she often took with her whenever she visited a large city--a show of force to any unsavory aspects that she was not to be trifle with. The “Surprise” was a far more sophisticated weapon that required a special license given only in a special circumstance, and in the baronial domain of the Quinarth Rim Region, most citizens cannot obtain one. Although she carried a license for the bowstring weapons. Kes knew she would be severely prosecuted if anyone found out about this relic of the by-gone Technol Age that had been smuggled inside a metal coatrack.

It was a Saffrasian-made rifle, a room temperature, superconducting Langston Railgun with a telescopic scope and a carbon fiber barrel, to be exact. This weapon had been wrought centuries ago not by the Jötar or the dwarves or even the nearly extinct Yngui, but by Kes’ own people--the most diligent and talented of mechanicians: against such powerful weapons, foes both human and nonhuman stood not a chance. In an effort to secure universal peace, the Langston rifle along with the other Technohance weaponry were banned from the Mortal and Free Folk Territories.

The few remaining weapons that had escaped dismantlement under the Technohance Weaponry Control Act of 3755 were largely consigned to museums and subterranean vaults guarded by djinn and dragons.

Many of the glass display cases were broken and some were plundered of their contents. She turned left and walked down a corridor dimly lit by dirty skylights. There was a faded sign saying "Prohibited Techohance Weapons." That sounded interesting to Kes and she walked into the exhibit. There were dusty glass cases holding containers of poison fungal spores and corrosive gas and Plovit eggs. She found nothing that really plucked at her heartstrings. But then she saw an exhibit that was labeled "Langston Rail Gun." She rubbed her elbow on the dusty glass and peered inside. There was one long container and two metal boxes.

Miss Tabitha had watched its removal from the museum case with alarm, convinced the mysterious weapon was cursed and that it would turn on its discoverer. But the gun, it seemed was content to be resurrected and put to good use once again.

As well as ammunition, there was also a military instruction manual for the gun. A multilingual booklet with clear page protectors; the pages were a little faded but still quite legible, and included her native language. The manual was illustrated and gave easy to understand directions on maintenance, charging, loading, aiming and firing the weapon.

All these rules and directions Kes religiously followed, and in return the gun provided her and her fellow companions with fresh game and protection. Most of the dark forces that prowled that once-mighty metropolis kept their distance, knowing they had zero chances of winning against a Gerdin weapon equipped with iron bullets with copper cores and silver tips.

But even this indomitable warrior girl armed with formidable hardware was now quaking at the prospect at facing the Thing standing outside.

As she did last minute safety checks, Kes wondered if it was the very same Thing that was haunting her last two residences. Did it follow her, somehow...even across the sea?

But no sooner did that unpleasant thought entered her mind then she quickly shut it out. No, no, it's best not to think about it...best to concentrate on the here and now instead...like putting that Thing out of action for good!

Tightly clutching the Langston, Kes hurriedly scooped up some extra bullets before running back into the living room...only to skid to a halt, the ammo slipping from numb fingers to clatter on the hardwood floor. 