“Re-Sprite”, Part 5

G-Raff exited the tunnel and ran to his mini-garage door. He punched his code into the keypad. The door slid open. He smiled. Not many gnome burrows had backup generators, but his did. He also had solar panels, LED lighting, and a rack of batteries. Binge watching those “crazy prepper” shows had paid off.

“Get in here. Go through there,” G-Raff said, pointing inside, directing the gnome girls as they exited the tunnel. “Then to the backdoor.” They hurried past. He hit the intercom button inside the garage door.

“Hanna, open the door. Get everyone in the middle of the main room. Arm yourselves. Do like we talked about,” he said. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can.” G-Raff hit the button that would close the door before she could reply. He didn’t want the last time he heard her voice to be filled with fear or worry.

“Time ta show these punks what happen when they try to rock G-Raff’s hood,” he said out loud, drawing his blade, rolling his shoulder forward and walking out in the large open lawn area surrounded by his white picket fence. He spread his legs shoulder width apart and brought the knife up, facing the main road.

“Wait, where’s Runt?” he thought as he quickly surveyed the area. He saw the gate on the forest side of the yard open. Signe and the warg were on their daily escort effort, and hopefully in the Orc village, safe and sound.

The L.A. gnomes, led by the werewolf, arrived. It saw G-Raff and made a raking motion toward him. When it reached the fence, it stopped and sniffed the air. Then it sniffed the nearest post and growled.

“You a dead gnome Tallee,” Stitch said. “It gonna be fo’ good dis’ time. Mr. teeth and fur here will see ta that.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” G-Raff said. “I already took out one of his peepers. Let’s make it a matched set. ‘Sides, he don’t look like he in no big hurry to come in here.”

Stitch held up a silver shell with a black pearl, “Long as I got this, he’ll do as I say.”

“And what’s that?”

“Sure, we can do the whole Bond villain thang,” Stitch replied. “Dis’ is the Eye of Kalfu, Voodoo moon God. That necro charged it with a bunch of blood and linked it to him. He can control creatures of the night.  He gave it to me when he couldn’t enter the compound. Long as it’s night and this here pearl is black, this doggie is mine.”

G-Raff looked at the L.A Gnomes that had spread out along the picket fence. They were waiting for a signal.

“Kill dat’ Tallee!” Stitch said. In unison, the L.A. Gnomes brought their hands up to pop tunnels.

“AAIYEEE!” the high-pitched yell ripped through the night air.

G-Raff turned toward it and frowned. Out of the darkness, running up the trail toward the werewolf and gnomes, was a grey furred warg with a tiny passenger. Signe. In one hand she held Runts patch of neck fur and in the other a Tanto, a sort of short Japanese sword. More of a knife.

All hell broke loose. Signe disappeared and reappeared with her knife jammed in the werewolf’s back. As it spun, she was gone already. By then, Runt had reached the yard. The L.A. gnomes had popped and were emerging to attack G-Raff.

Runt barked like a puppy. His favorite game had started, but this time he wouldn’t be playing the delicate version. He was lethal. Gnomes, barely emerged from tunnels, were snapped up by the warg. He was already chewing on two of them before they realized what hit them. The late arrivals, seeing what was happening, tried to assist their comrades by popping onto the warg’s flanks.

This was a big mistake as they came out and were met by a mouth full of teeth, followed by a quick and deadly bite. Runt leapt, spun and shifted, meeting each popped tunnel the instant a gnome emerged from the event horizon. Gnome arms, holding guns, protruded from Runts mouth, followed by crunching sounds.

G-Raff heard the crack of bones and a scream in pain at the same time as Runt stopped and leapt over his head. Signe. The werewolf had finally gotten ahead of her. It flung her through the air. G-Raff, having been on the receiving end of one of those, knew Signe would be killed when she hit a wall.

But before she struck the toolshed, Runt jumped, intercepting her, and allowing her to collide with his softer belly. He grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. Before he could stand, the werewolf was on him. Teeth and claws battled, fur flew, and the two beasts became a blur.

The ex-thug gnome made a move toward the melee, when G-Raff felt a burning pain in his arm. He’d been grazed by a bullet. He turned to see he was surrounded by the remaining L.A. gnomes.

“You a dumbass, Tallee. Now we gonna get yo’ bitches.”

“They’re deep and you don’t know where they is!” G-Raff replied. “And they can take care of themselves.”

“We know where they is. You told us,” Stitch said, an evil smile creeping onto his face.

G-Raff squinted in a questioning glare, the burning pain from his arm ignored. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, ya did. Where’d ya run to? The spot over they head. Ta protect them. They right under our feet, ain’t they?”

“No,” G-Raff said in a deadpan tone.

“We’ll see. Homies, pop some tunnels and look around down there,” Stitch said pointing down at G-Raff’s feet.

The L.A. Gnomes complied and a few of them laughed.

“We see’s them, Stitch. They in the middle of a big room, holding kitchen knives and shit.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, go get them!”

“Leave them alone!” G-Raff screamed as he moved toward Stitch.

The L.A. gnomes disappeared through their self-generated event horizons and G-Raff stopped advancing. He stood straight up and smiled at Stitch.

“Now it’s just you and me, my man,” G-Raff said, taking precise steps toward his old adversary.

“No, it ain’t, you black-hat wearin’ Tallee, my boys’ll be back in a sec’,” Stitch replied, pointing at G-Raff’s head. “You wear that color wit’ pride? That the hat of shame.”

“No,” G-Raff replied. “This the color all you mutha-fuckers should fear. I don’t owe you nothin’. You jus’ meat-sacks to me. Blue-hats sittin’ on targets of opportunity. My Burrow comes first. And your homies? They’s dead. Or dying.”

“You think yo bitches could take out my entire burrow? You is cray-cray.”

“Oh, yeah? Take a look,” R-Raff said as he spun his knife in his hand, pointing it at his feet, and rolled his tattooed shoulders.

Stitch looked behind G-Raff. Then the L.A. gnome looked down at his arm. The hairs stood still. His confident look faded, and he shuffled slightly. Bringing his hands together, he popped a tunnel toward the ground.

“What ya see, Dawg?” G-Raff asked.

“A bunch of bitches. What’s wit’ the head tattoos?” Stitch asked. “Look like yo lead bitch done seen me and givin’ me the finga’. Now she laughin’ at me.”

“That’s my girl.”

“So, where my homies?” Stitch asked, looking directly at G-Raff.

“They dead, unless they can breathe Alabama clay. Which they can’t.”

A thunderous sound rolled over them and the sky lit up blue, emanating from the direction of the Compound’s front gate. G-Raff looked at Stitch’s hand and pointed. “I think your boss just learnt to sing the blues.”

Stitch opened his hand. The pearl, mounted to the silver leaves, started to change. First to a dark gray, then dull white, then white pearl.

“Yo’ dog is off his leash,” G-Raff said.

“He still gonna kill you,” Stitch said, pointing behind G-Raff. G-Raff turned to see the werewolf shaking its head and clawing at itself. When it raised its head again, it looked at G-Raff through one golden yellow eye. It growled as it hunched forward, pointing at him.

G-Raff turned to face the werewolf. “Bring it, Bitch! I’m gonna fuck you up!”

The sudden silence was broken by a long building howl.  All three of the standing combatants turned to see Runt had struggled to his feet. He was bloodied and could only stand on three of his legs, but he threw his head back and sung out a long, lonely howling call once again.

“What’s wrong with your dog? He challenging my boy? He nuts,” Stitch said.

“I don’t think so. I think he’s just dialin’ a friend.”

The werewolf stalked toward Runt, accepting his perceived challenge, swiping at the air with its claws. It snapped its jaws and threw its head back, letting out a howl of its own.

Then dozens of answering howls cut through the night, growing louder.

The werewolf paused, flicking its ears as it tried to localize on each new howl. Tree branches cracked and the ground rumbled slightly, like it was being pounded by mighty drumsticks.

The first of the wargs broke through the tree line, headed for the G-Raff’s picket fence, leaping and clearing it with no effort. The Alpha-Warg stood well over six feet at the shoulder. More grey and brown shapes emerged from the direction of the Orc village they protected and called home. Runt didn’t live with the pack, but he was still one of them. His call was not going to be ignored.

The werewolf howled again jogging back and forth as it tried to keep its potential adversaries in front of it. There were too many wargs. With a single bark and snap from the Alpha, they charged. The werewolf didn’t have a chance. It went down in a hurricane of fur and teeth, shredded and torn to pieces.

G-Raff turned to Stitch. “Knives or fists, asshole. We end this now.”

“Or, maybe I just say fuck it and live ta fight another day, Tallee!” Stitch replied, turning and bringing his hands up. He clapped them together and went to move forward.

G-Raff saw a flash of grey, and red, and then heard it. SNAP! Crunch!

It was Runt. The warg turned and looked toward G-Raff, standing where Stitch had popped the tunnel. He opened his mouth and a pair of tiny legs, along with part of a waist, fell to the ground. With a quiet “pop” the tunnel ceased to exist. Somewhere in Fey, under the enchanted ground, half of an evil gnome found his final resting place.

G-Raff thought about his old homies, suffocated in the clay below, having popped into the fey barrier that surrounded his burrow, and how they’d been knocked unconscious, their tunnel ceasing to exist and leaving them surrounded and entombed. He knew he would leave them there.

He’d pour out a forty over the ground later, but for the moment he felt relief. He popped a tunnel below his feet and saw Hanna, a look of concern on her face. She must have felt the tunnel and turned to look to him. He waved and gave her the thumbs up, then signaled her to come out. By then, the Orcs had started to arrive and were looking after the wounded Wargs. G-Raff and Runt headed for Signe, both limping.

He didn’t want to move her as he pulled Fuzzy Monkey off his back and broke out his kit, running through his field first-aid training. She was breathing, but barely. Runt tried to nuzzle in, concern for his pack-mate. “Easy, boy, she be okay when the healer gets here. Just let her know you here,” G-Raff said.

Runt let out a soft whine and lay his giant head next to the fallen gnome girl, letting his warm breath wash over her.

Hanna and the ex-gremlin slaves emerged from the tool shed and ran to G-Raff.

“What the hell got into her?” G-Raff said to Hanna as he pointed at the unmoving Signe. “Where’d she get the blade?”

“She’s been training with the Orc sword master. She was going to surprise you,” Hanna said, tears in her eyes as she looked at Signe’s tiny broken body. “She was never going to be a victim again. She wanted to be able to fight back, like you do, Rolf.”

“I pity the fool that fucks with her now. Stupid kid,” G-Raff said to the wounded girl, leaning in to whisper. “You did good. Saved my ass. Now don’t go and die on me, ‘cause I’m gonna ground your hard-headed, narrow-ass for a month. No internet or nothin’. I mean it!”

Hanna yelled over her shoulder in Orcish and one of the healers broke from ministering to the wounded wargs to aid Signe.

G-Raff stood and the other gnome girls, along with Hanna, gathered around him, all talking at once in Gnimen. They fell silent as they looked at Signe.

“Hedda, introduce yourselves to the Orc healer. She can help,” G-Raff said to the newly freed girls. He held onto Hanna. He reached down and ran his hand gently across her belly. “You okay?”

“Yes, my brave tall man, I’m dokey okey!” Hanna said, touching his arm just above the gunshot wound, then burying her head in his chest. “You must stop being used for the target practice.”

“That’s a dammed fine idea. But not gonna happen,” G-Raff responded. “Get the new girls back in the burrow. I’ll have some ‘splainin’ ta do to the Boss about our growing donsey. He might not approve.”

Hanna nodded, her head still on his chest.

“Shit. Jerry. Gotta go!” G-Raff exclaimed, gently pulling away from Hanna “Be right back.”

Running into the garage, he emerged in a pink and flower covered blur. “Sally Pee’s a lot” was hauling ass.

The jeep jumped, snapped, and whined as G-Raff drove at its new top speed. He even managed a power slide or two as he shot through the quiet compound. He reached the fence line and slowed. Maneuvering over the various grass patches and mud holes, he arrived opposite the now extinguished torches. The patch of ground was covered in Ichor and destruction. He stood and called out.

“Mr. Corinthian? Jerry?” He repeated it a few times but got no reply. He stopped when he saw one of the necromancer’s vans had crashed into a big willow tree. It looked like someone had run it through a wood chipper. Then a band saw, followed by sledge hammer. Next to it, motionless on the ground, lay a large man.

“Oh, shit!” G-Raff said as he parked his overpowered jeep and popped a tunnel.

*******

G-Raff sat in the Fed tactical van with a bruised and battered Jerry. They’d pulled it to the side of the road after G-Raff had activated the “All hands emergency” alarm in the Compound’s guard shack. The rest of the company would be heading their way to help with the people that had been paralyzed by the zombie mist.  Jerry held the axe in his hands, turning it over and gripping the hand-carved handle.

“So, Mr. Raff, I really have to give this to the Feds?”

“Jerry, G-Raff is my O.G. handle. We friends now. You can call me Rolf. Rolf Jørgensson,” Rolf replied, “but, yeah, they prob’ly gonna take it back. They kinda’ frown on civvies walking around with big magic. “

“That’s a shame,” he replied, setting the axe on the dashboard and looking into the compound. “Nice jeep, by the way. I pictured you as more of an Action John fan, but if Sally Pees a Lot floats your boat, who am I to judge?.”

“How you know it a Sally jeep?” Rolf asked, implying Jerry might be a closet Sally fan.

“Got a daughter,” Jerry said, responding to the unspoken rib. “A teenager now, but she had the full line of toys before she found out about boys and make-up. Anyway, what next?”

“Well, they’s gonna show up and read you the riot act about how you can never talk about this or else,” Rolf said, a serious look on his face, using his hands to emphasize his points. “But I think you let them know what you do. The books. Tell them how you use some of this in yo’ writin’, stimulate the peeps imagination. On the down low, you let them know when you get weird communications or a heads up on something strange and they might keep you read in. Maybe they let you see some other stuff. Mutual help. I hear they did that in New Orleans.”

“Yeah, that might work. With some creative changes, it makes a helluva story.”

“Especially anything you might include about an O.G. Gnome,” Rolf said, smiling and nodding at Jerry. Jerry nodded slightly, rolling his eyes and smiling back.

“Oh, yeah, one more thing,” Rolf said, holding up his index finger to make his point. “The other side of this is you’re about be obscenely rich.”

“From putting this into the new books? It’ll be months before I have them written and there’s no guarantee they’ll…”

“No. I mean from the reward for killing monsters.”

“What reward?”

“Hang-on,” Rolf said, pulling out his phone. “Good, got bars again. The phone company must have fixed the shit the Gremlins broke.”

He tapped his phone and a woman’s voice answered. “Yo, Doc, big doin’s down here, if you can help with the paperwork. Standard stuff for me, but got a newbie that did some serious damage. Anything in the fence-line goes to the company, but anything outside is his. That would be a Necro, dozen newbie vamps, maybe twenty-five zombies, five gremlins. What’s that worth?”

G-Raff put Dr. Forrester on speaker as she read through the bounties for each creature. Jerry smiled.

“I’m gonna buy a mountain.”

The End