GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 6

 

At that last shack, a burly man with a thick beard sat on a chair of branches and logs. His beard hid his mouth completely but that didn’t stop him from spitting some tobacco as Percival and Vicki approached.

“Can I do fer ya?” The man said with a tone that indicated he had little interest in doing anything for them.

“We’d like to use a pirogue to go out to an old sugar plantation. Can you help us?” Vicki asked.

The man stood up with a solemn expression. “That place ain’t right.” He said it with a tone that was cold and flat. It made Vicki’s heart skip a beat.

“It’s very important,” Percival said.

“Folks come sometimes to rent my pirogues. If you want one, it’ll be a hunnert dollars.”

“That’s really expensive to rent a pirogue,” Vicki said.

“So’s replacin’ ‘em when they don’t come back.”

“Why don’t they come back?” Vicki wondered more and more what she got herself into, but was too stubborn to do anything else.

“You got the money?” The man didn’t flinch at her question.

Percival handed him a gold Civil War coin. “It’s authentic and worth enough to buy ten of your pirogues.”

The man raised an eyebrow as he studied the coin. He nodded, put the coin in his pocket and gestured to the dock.

“But why don’t they come back?” Vicki pressed the question again.

“Jus’ you remember it’s his swamp.” The man went into his shack and abruptly shut the door.

Percival walked to the small dock and selected a pole and pirogue. He opened the blanket and put on his gun belt. As Vicki stepped into the pirogue, Percival took her by the arm.

“This is where we part company,” Percival said.

Vicki jerked her arm away. “Heck no! I’m coming with you. I’ve come this far after all.”

“I can’t guarantee your safety. Furthermore, I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine! Like it or not, you’re stuck me Captain Louis Percival, and I won’t take no for an answer!” Vicki sat down in the pirogue and refused to move.

Percival sighed in defeat and grasped the pole to push them out on the water. It was no use arguing. He just hoped he could keep her alive. He stabbed the pole into the muddy bottom of the swamp and with a heavy shove, they were on their way.

Drifting into the swamp was fairly open at first, but soon they had to navigate between the wide trunks of the cypress trees. Once they were well out of view of the shack community, Percival paused to set his pistol on the bottom of the pirogue. As it did back at the bar, the pistol spun and finally pointed a direction further south. He holstered his weapon and returned to pushing them across the water. The sun shone through the branches in cascades of bright light that enhanced the natural green beauty of their surroundings. Life teemed around them. Small turtles jumped off floating logs with splashing echoes. Tree frogs watched them go by from tree trunks and reeds. Even the spider webs shined in the scattered beams of sunlight. Vicki flinched as a Copperhead snake gracefully glided by on the water. Percival ignored it, focused on the mission ahead.

They lost track of time as they drifted. It could have been an hour or two when they could see a decrepit rooftop just over some high foliage about a hundred yards ahead. No clear path to it could be seen for land yet. Percival could tell, they would have to circle around in the swamp to find their way.

“You’ve been pushing us a long time,” Vicki said. “Would you like me to take over?”

“I would never put man’s job on a woman,” Percival said, believing he was being chivalrous.

“Oh you really are from the Civil War!”

“What?”

“You have a lot to learn about the ways of women today! I’ll have you know…”

She was interrupted by a loud splash and the pirogue flipping into the air. Percival and Vicki were tossed opposite directions into the murky water. Even with his head submerged, Percival could hear Vicki’s screams of terror. He struggled to get his head above water and stand on the slick mud below. Percival managed to cling to a tree trunk and pull himself up. He wiped the muck away from his eyes frantically.

Seeing the massive body towering over them, Percival instinctively drew his pistol. As his eyes started focus, he stared in disbelief. It had arms and legs like a man, if any man stood 14 feet tall. It was green and scaled with moss hanging from prehistoric plates going down its back. Its head was that of a giant alligator; big enough to snap an average alligator in half. Its mouth was open to show off rows of dagger sharp teeth.

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 5

 

In a world where everything was so big and loud, the museum was smaller than Percival expected. It reminded him of a Town Hall he had seen once. When they went through the double doors, Percival paused at yet another bewildering view. Glass cases with relics of the war filled the single room building from corner to corner. Uniforms, sabers, and guns were all on display from both sides of the conflict. In the middle of the room sat a cannon. Seeing it like that, was eerie in its silence. Percival wondered how many men it cut down on its journey to this resting place. For the Captain, it was literally yesterday that these things were active and in use. Now they were displayed with the wear, fading and rust of generations. Percival gazed at the ring on his finger and realized that, he too, was a relic. He wondered if soon he would show his age like these items around him.

“Welcome to the Civil War Museum,” said the heavy man behind the counter. He had a bushy mustache that hid his upper lip and thick glasses that made his eyes look bulged. “I’m Reginald. Is there anything I can show you?”

“Actually, there might be,” Vicki said. “Do you have information on officers who were in the war?”

“I have info on the major historical figures. If you aren’t looking for that, I have some files on soldiers who fought here in Louisiana. What’s the name?”

“Colonel Amon Le Fey,” Percival piped in.

“Le Fey, Le Fey,” Reginald repeated as he moved towards a filing cabinet. “Union or Confederate?”

“Confederate.”

Reginald pulled a thick book from the top of the filing cabinet and opened it on the counter. He leafed through several pages.

“Aha, there is a Colonel Amon Le Fey listed in here.”

“Great!” Vicki said. “What does it say about him?”

“It says; he led a regiment of soldiers away from the Battle of Irish Bend to engage incoming Union reinforcements led by Captain Louis Percival.”

Vicki shot a look of surprise to Percival who shrugged.

“It goes on to say it was a bloody fight that ended with the disappearance of both leading officers.” Reginald adjusted his glasses. “That’s easy enough to believe. A lot of soldiers went to unmarked graves back then; even officers.”

“Does it say anything else about Le Fey?” Percival pressed.

“Yes. It says he owned a sugar plantation a bit south of the battle site. That would all be dangerous swampland now.”

“That’s where I have to go. Thank you, Reginald!” Percival turned and walked out of the building.

“What?” Reginald looked after him dumfounded.

“It’s okay. He just does that. Thanks, sweetie.” Vicki followed Percival out to the car. “What are you going to do?”

“ I’m going the way my pistol pointed and Reginald said.”

“You know you can’t just go stomping through the swamp right? You’re going to need a boat or a pirogue; probably a pirogue.”

“What’s a pirogue?”

“A smaller boat for navigating narrower places in the swamps. Look, I think I know where to drive so we can get a look okay?”

“Alright.”

Percival didn’t want Vicki along too far into his dangerous mission. He didn’t want to endanger her. If anything happened to her, he doubted he could ever forgive himself.

They travelled back roads and lesser highways several miles south. The further they went, the thicker the surrounding wilderness became. They didn’t have to go far before any distant view was blocked out by tall cypress trees. Spanish moss hung long from branches and water shined between the bases of the trees. The sun barely shone through some places, making them dark and eerie. Finally, they came to a place where the only driving left was off the road. Swampland stretched out around them for miles.

Percival stepped to the edge of the road to survey his chances of passage. A small alligator splashed into the water and vanished. From where Percival stood, travel on foot was impossible. He could see he would be up to his waist in water with nothing to hold on to but cypress trunks. As he looked around, there were no paths available in any direction. Vicki stood not far behind him.

“Do you have any more of those gold coins?” Vicki asked.

“A couple, why?”

“I saw some shacks near an off road. Maybe someone there will let us use a pirogue.”

Percival nodded and they got back into the car.

The small community of shacks was built on posts over the water accessible by long elevated walkways. Vicki parked the car in a muddy lot with a couple of trucks and another car so they could walk to the wooden docks. The walkways were well built, thick and solid with heavy logs. Percival could tell right away that these were people who could live off their environment. Animal skins could be seen in one area but mostly there were crawfish traps and fishing equipment. There were several pirogues all around. Every shack had at least one and there were seven shacks in all. The shacks were made from various materials of wood and metal. Percival brought out the bundle that held his sword and pistol. Vicki had wrapped them in a small blanket.

The first man they came to eyed them suspiciously from rocking chair. He appeared as old as the swamp with leathery skin and calloused hands. He was thin and sinewy, but he didn’t look weak. When asked about a pirogue, he said nothing but pointed to a shack at the far end of the walk. As they followed his directions, they felt the eyes of the community watching them. They were watched with interest. One woman even came out of her shack to watch them. It was the kind of observation that made Percival and Vicki uncomfortable. Expressions on the people’s faces weren’t the welcoming kind.

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale part 3

 

The couple in the corner decided to leave quietly, but Vicky and Scat were too busy to notice. Percival’s mind spun as he considered all he heard so far.

“So, what can I get you?” Vicky asked.

“A pint of lager will do, thank you.”

“What kind?”

Percival’s mind spun again, “Surprise me.” As long as they thought he was an actor, Percival felt a bit safer. Finding out the rest of what he needed to know still looked tricky. The last thing he wanted now was to scare anyone. It would require him playing along with their thoughts of him and letting them do the thinking.

Vicky served up a mug of beer, “That will be six dollars.”

“Ah.” Percival dug into his pocket and pulled out an assortment of folded bills.

Vicky took them and paused on sight of them, “What is this?”

“Oh!” Percival realized that his money may not be any good in this weird world. He took the bills back with apology and dug frantically for what he hoped would work. He put a gold coin in her hand.

“Oh boy.” Vicky said, “You guys take this stuff seriously don’t you?”

“You don’t take gold?” Percival asked with a knot in his throat.

“What?” Vicky’s jaw dropped open.

“Hey! You mean that’s an authentic coin?” Scat nearly spat all over the bar, “Nowadays, those things are worth a fortune!”

“Um, great.” Vicky said as she pocketed the coin. “That will do nicely.”

“Good.” Percival took a drink of his beer. “Oh my! This is cold.” He noted the strange expressions, “And very good! Just what I was hoping for.”

“So you were saying that you’re lost?” Vicky asked, finding herself more curious with this man than before.

“Yes. I am lost. I know it will sound strange, but I don’t even know what town I’m in.”

“You’re in Franklin, Louisiana, Hon,” Vicky said.

“Is this the town you’re supposed to be in?” Scat asked, wondering if he had any more gold coins.

“Maybe,” Percival answered hesitantly.

The door to the bar opened and two policemen stepped in. One was tall and the other stout. Both appeared muscular and athletic with modern military haircuts. Percival had never seen such uniforms, but he still recognized authority figures.

“Hello, Officers!” Vicky said brightly. At that moment she noticed that the couple in the corner was gone. In the pit of her stomach, she knew why they were there.

“How are you folks doing tonight?” Officer Stone, the stout one asked. His chest was broad and his neck was thick. Vicky thought he must be a body builder.

“We’re doing great. Would you boys like some coffee?”

“We got a call about a man with a gun,” the stern looking Officer Yates informed them.

“Looks we have him right here,” Officer Stone gestured towards Percival. “Not what I expected though.”

“It’s okay, Officers,” Scat said, “He’s one of them reenactment people.”

“Is that a real gun, Sir?” Officer Stone asked.

“It’s one of them replicas,” Scat interjected again. A stern look from Yates turned the old man back to his beer quickly.

“As he said, Sir,” Percival reached for the pistol to show the officer.

“I’ll do that,” Officer Stone said as he reached out and took the pistol from its holster. He studied the gun with intense interest as Yates peered over a shoulder.

“Well, that has to be replica. I’ve never seen a black powder pistol in such good shape.” Stone put the pistol on the bar, “Now I need to see your I.D.”

“I.D.?” Percival didn’t recognize the term.

“Yes,” said Yates, “Identification.”

Percival looked at the silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand. It had his name and rank inscribed on it. Percival couldn’t help the feeling that this would not satisfy these officers. Few men in the ranks had any better to be identified by in the war, so Percival had nothing else. He could only think of one thing.

“I am Captain Louis Percival of the…”

Suddenly the pistol on the bar moved and startled everyone but Percival. It spun in place on the bar rapidly and then gradually slowed. When it stopped, the barrel aimed towards the door.

“You know, Officers,” Vicky piped up with desperate earnest, “He’s with me. He’s a friend of the family and, Lord, we’ve been looking out for him since he was a kid. He’s always gotten so lost in anything he does,” Vicky tapped the side of her forehead, “that it’s hard to get him out. It was a mistake to let him bring that here. He just wanted to show us. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

“Ookay,” Stone said slowly as he stared at the gun. “That might have been good to know when we first got here.”

“Yeah,” Yates nodded, also staring.

“I’m so sorry, Officers. But, you know, I take full responsibility for Louis. Do you need my I.D.?”

“You know what?” Stone stepped backwards. “I don’t know what we just saw here, but I don’t think it’s illegal. I think we can go now.”

“I agree.” Yates started heading for the door. “You folks have a good night.”

The officers left without another word and an awkward silence fell over the three left behind.

Once the officers were gone, Vicky couldn’t contain herself, “What in the world was that?” She pointed at the gun. “You know what? Never mind. Bar’s closed. Scat go home. Mr. Percival, you stay right there.”

“That’s not fair!” Scat protested, “And hey, Frank’ll fire ya for closing early!”

“Scat,” Vicky looked the old man dead in the eye, “Scat!”

“Well, you don’t have to be like that about it,” Scat muttered as he made for the door. “No tip for you.”

“You never tip!” Vicky  followed Scat and locked the door behind him. She turned off the neon signs in the windows and turned off the main room lights. She glanced out the windows a couple of directions twice and then walked back to Percival.

By this time, Percival had holstered his pistol. He watched Vicky’s bustle of activity with curious interest.

“Okay.” Vicky held both hands in front of her as if trying to catch an invisible ball or at least his attention. “What is the real story with you?”

“You may find that hard to believe.” Percival couldn’t help but fear how she may react.

“Your gun going poltergeist on my bar was hard to believe. Try me.”

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 2

 

“Weirdo,” said a man in leather and chains passing in the opposite direction of the business woman.

Percival only knew of mohawks on native Indians. The short purple one on the man in leather was ghastly. Percival blinked several times, but all the sights remained. It was so much to take in that he quickly felt dizzy. He didn’t even realize he had holstered his pistol, but had his hand on the handle.

“Must be one of those reenactors,” said another man walking by.

“Reenactors,” Percival muttered.

“Hey, is that gun real?” another woman asked.

Captain Percival moved his hand away from his pistol and realized that he was the one who didn’t belong here. He had to find someplace to think. He had to find someplace to learn about where he was. With several nervous glances around himself, Percival turned and walked quickly down a street less busy.

Not far away, down that same street, Vicky washed down the bar in bored slow motion. Only 3 people were in Frank’s Bar that late afternoon and Vicky didn’t expect many more. She tied back her reddish blonde hair as she gazed at the loving couple in the far corner. It would be nice just to have someone to talk to. Sadly, the only person who wanted to talk to her was old Scat. Vicky wanted nothing to do with Scat and usually tried to avoid eye contact. Inevitably, this never worked, and Scat would always wind up at the bar. Just the lint in his beard made her wonder if he ever looked in a mirror. Scat drank too much, smelled terrible and was always far too interested in Vicky for her comfort. He reminded her of some bad cheese she found behind her refrigerator once.

“Hey, Doll,” Scat said with a toothy grin as he sat at the bar. He rubbed his grimy fingers on the beer mug, smearing it. Vicky never looked forward to touching anything Scat touched.

“Doesn’t look like you need a refill yet,” Vicky looked away hoping for someone new to come in the door.

“Aw, you know I love talking to you, Doll. You know, we should go out sometime.”

“You’re really killing me, Scat,” Vicky moved a few feet down the bar and pretended to see something out the window.

“Well, I’ve warned you before; I am a lady killer.”

Vicky tried to ignore Scat. Seeing the man outside seemed like a sudden dream come true. Even with the man’s Civil War attire, she thought he had to be safer company than the old coot. Vicky couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked lost and kept staring at the bar. Vicky thought he was gathering courage to come in. Maybe he’d never been in a bar before; Vicky had no idea. As he finally came toward the building, Vicky felt elation that someone, anyone, was coming in.

Captain Percival couldn’t steady his nerves as he put a hand on the door latch. All the strange lights were like no tavern he had ever known. Still, he always learned about new places at taverns and pubs. It seemed like the safest idea, or he hoped it was. With a deep breath, Percival opened the door and stepped inside.

At first, he found relief in the fact that the place was not crowded. Then he felt their eyes on him and knew he still stood out as odd in this strange new land. The couple in the corner shrugged and went back to their conversation. Vicky and Scat still stared at him in wonder.

“Can I help you?” Vicky finally found her voice as Percival approached the bar.

“I hope so. I’m afraid I’m lost.”

“Well, I don’t know where they are doing any Civil War reenactments right now.”

“Reenactment,” Percival said slowly, “I’ve been hearing that a lot today.”

“Well sure!” Scat said, “That’s what they call it when you fellers get all dressed up and act out your battles and stuff. Can’t say it’s real popular around here though.”

“Act out,” Percival repeated again, “Do you mean like a play?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Scat said, “I’m sure you would know better than me.”

“A very loud play,” Vicky interjected, wondering about Percival’s state of mind. “Maybe you should have a drink?”

Percival stepped closer to the bar, thinking that would be a fine idea. That’s when Vicky noticed the pistol on his hip.

“Uh, we don’t allow guns in here.”

Percival paused, “Oh. I’m sorry.” To the surprise of everyone in the bar, Percival drew the pistol and offered it to Vicky handle first. Vicky had no idea what to do or say.

“You know,” Scat said, “It’s probably just a replica. All them fellers have ‘em. I’m sure it wouldn’t be any problem.”

“Yeah. Right.” Vicky said, “Why don’t you just leave it in the holster?”

“Okay,” Percival holstered the pistol and decided not to correct them on its status as a replica or not.

The couple in the corner decided to leave quietly, but Vicky and Scat were too busy to notice. Percival’s mind spun as he considered all he heard so far.

GZ Tales: Imaginary Enemy Part 2

 

“I have an imaginary friend, but he's not very nice. Is yours nice?” The table next to the bed shook slightly.

            “Yeah,” Larry replied, feeling a tremor in the floor, “I have a very good friend. Maybe you'd like to meet him.” He eyed the table suspiciously.

            “Oh no. No, no, no.”

            “What is it, Isa? What's wrong?”

            Her eyes welled with tears, “You should run.”

            A shadow grew and loomed in the corner of the room.

            “It's not the child!” Nyhtwulf's voice boomed in his head.

            “Ow! Too loud.”

            “It's a secondary entity.”

            “Can you tackle it?”

            “I will do my best.”

            “I'll grab the girl.” He turned his attention back to Isa, “Okay, this is very important. I need you to listen to me. You listening?”

            She nodded and sniffled.

            “This is not your friend. Friends don't hurt people. This is one of the bad guys and I'm here to help you escape. But you have to be brave for me.”

            She shook her head as the shadow grew closer, “You can't. No one can.”

            “We can. My friend is right outside. He'll help us. Now, we are going to have to run, okay?” He held out his hand.

            A tall humanoid shape manifested from the shadow. It's raspy voice filled the air, “You mustn't touch the children.”

            A savage roar echoed as Nyhtwulf flew into the room and tried a flying tackle. Since both of them were intangible it worked. The two of them went through the far wall. Blacktide snatched up the surprised girl in his arms and ran out the door.

            “Out of my way now!” he shouted as an orderly almost stepped in front of him. The rest wanted nothing to do with the situation and were glad to stay out of it.

            “He's not my friend?” Isa asked as she clutched tight to his shoulder.

            “No. He's not.”

            “Is he the Boogey man?”

            “I don't know, Isa, but we're going to find out. Did he ever mention having a name?” He raced into a stairwell to avoid being caught in the elevator.

            “Silhouette.”

            “Wow, that's a big word for a little kid. I wonder why he calls himself that?”

            At that moment, the shadowy creature came through the door behind them, but Nyhtwulf was on him again and they spun out a nearby window. As the two struggled with each other they rolled and flew through walls of patients’ rooms and doctor's offices. People fled and screamed at the sight of them. Since this place was a psychiatric hospital, matters were worse. Patients suffering anxiety disorders were in total panic. Much of the staff were too busy dodging for themselves to contain panicking patients.

            “I am having difficulty containing him. Do you have a plan?” Nyhtwulf's voice came again into Larry’s mind.

            “Get him outside. That's where I'm going.”

            Knowing that Nythwulf and Silhouette weren't far behind, he found the first door on ground level he could and burst outside. Alarms blared but they were the least of his worries. He ran across the green lawn to a small grove of trees and bushes. He set Isa down.

            “You hide in there. We'll deal with this guy now.”

            Isa didn't argue. She crawled into the thick of the bushes and curled up tight, hugging her knees. “He'll burn you.”

            “Not if I burn him first. Now close your eyes tight until I tell you to open them.” He didn't want the scene to terrify her further andcould think of nothing else to protect her.

           

Nyhtwulf and the Silhouette spun out into the air, snarling, swiping and clawing at each other. Even though they could connect somewhat, they didn't seem able to hurt each other very much. Blacktide raised the intensity of his disintegration field around his body. The ground at his feet began to smoulder. He had no idea if his power could work on such a being. He had never tried before. He raised his hand and took aim. He didn't want to hit his partner. Could his power hurt Nyhtwulf? This thought caused him to pause. He didn't want to hurt another friend with his power ever again; especially not his best friend and partner.

            “The child, the child!” it snarled as it finally broke free and lunged for Blacktide.

            “Now! Have faith my friend and strike now!” Larry  hated it when Nyhtwulf shouted in his head, but this time it was for good cause. It shook him back to reality and he fired his power just as the beast was within inches of him. Disintegration makes kind of a low coughing “whump” noise barely audible to human ears. The energy beam hit the shadowy Silhouette and actually threw the entity backwards a few yards. The Silhouette dropped to its knees, clutching what appeared to be its chest. Its red eyes opened wide as if it were as surprised. Nyhtwulf flew up behind it and ghosted a hand through its head. Nyhtwulf’s unique power to disrupt mental and life energies took effect. The entity gave a terrible shriek that rattled windows and made everyone cover their ears. Then it exploded in all directions like shadows running from rays of the sun.

As the ringing in his ears wore off, Blacktide stood back up from one knee and looked around.
            “It is gone,” Nyhtwulf said as he shook off the effect by rattling his big head back and forth. “I no longer sense it.”

            “Guess we won't know what its deal was then,” he looked back to Isa and knelt near the bushes. “Hey, you okay? Come on out and meet my friend. I promise you he's nice.”
            Isa accepted a hand to help her out of the bushes. She looked up at Nyhtwulf in wonder.

            “Are you a dog man?”

            He chuckled softly, “I look like one don't I?”

            “Do you sense any reason that thing was interested in her?” Blacktide asked.

            “I sense dormant psychic ability in her. It is possible it was drawn to that, particularly because she is a child.”

            “Will he come back?” Isa asked.

            “I don't think so. And if it does, we'll send it running,” Blacktide said. “But how would you like to go to a much nicer place than this?”

            “Is it a hospital?”

            “Kinda, but way cooler than this one. You can even have a ride on my motorcycle.” He spoke of a hospital for people with powers. It was a place that existed to study developing powers in people and help them with control if needed.

            “That would be nice,” she looked up at Nyhtwulf, “but I'd really like to fly. Will he carry me?”

            Larry smiled, “Ask him.”

            Nyhtwulf was too happy to oblige, for the joy of a child.

GZ Tales: Imaginary Enemy: Part 1

 

“I don't know what you think you're getting away with, young lady,” the nurse scolded the red headed little girl.

            The child sat on her hospital bed with her knees in her arms, rocking slightly. Tears streamed down her face. “You shouldn't yell at me,” she murmured.

            “What?” the nurse scowled at the audacity. “How dare you? I've never met an eight year old with such horrible manners!” The lecture continued but the little girl buried her face in her knees. The metal service table next to her bed trembled as if in a light earthquake. The nurse took no notice of this, being too upset at what she saw as rude and disrespectful behavior. In a far corner of the room a shadow formed and grew out across the walls and ceiling, reaching up over the nurse’s head.

            “You need to look at me when I'm talking to you, little missy!”

            The little girl looked up, her face soaked with tears. Her expression was one of agony, “You should run now,” she said desperately, “Please run away.”

            The nurse looked up to the darkness that now obscured the view of part of the room. The girl hid her face sobbing, “No, no, no.”

            A new raspy voice floated into the room, “You mustn't suffer the children.”

            The nurse screamed. The sound echoed across the hospital ward, startling patients and staff. Staff members ran to the sound, finding the air thick with the smell of rancid smoke and burning flesh.

            Larry Peters pulled his motorcycle into the parking garage across from the government office he worked at. His long blonde hair was windblown, but he didn't care. He hated helmets. The Parahuman Activity Commission (PAC) existed to investigate threats conventional law enforcement couldn't handle. He was better known by his operating handle, Blacktide. His name came from his ability to emit disintegration energy from his body. Disintegration energy is like a beam of darkness or shadow that can move as fast as light.

             Before Blacktide joined up with PAC he had trouble controlling his powers. This caused great anxiety for him. He always worried for friends and anyone he might come to care for. His powers manifested at a very young age. Larry and his parents were sitting at breakfast when a surge of his power made him and orphan. The event lives on his nightmares to this day.

 Then he met his partner, a Twilie Demon called Nyhtwulf. When they first met, the demon formed a psychic bond with Larry. That bond allowed him to buffer Larry's powers and help him control them. At first it was a violation of Larry’s extremely private life. However, they soon became the best of friends and trusted partners.

            As Larry parked his bike, Nyhtwulf was nearby in his favorite delicatessen. Seeing the shadowy werewolf-like being with huge black feathery wings come in to the cafe always raised eyebrows and got attention. Since he usually moved intangibly, he never bothered to open the door. Nyhtwulf would just ghost through it, often startling patrons. Since his motives were always friendly, he never understood the fuss. The owner had come to accept it, especially since Nyhtwulf was a paying customer with a big appetite. Nyhtwulf had come for an entire box of his favorite treat, bite sized cream cheese cubes in foil wrappers.

            “Here you go, just the way you like them and on your tab,” said the man at the register.

Nyhtwulf snatched up the box with a lupine grin, “Thank you!”

            On his way out the deli, he tore open the box and popped a handful into his mouth, wrappers and all.

            “I see you picked up your afternoon snack,” Larry said as he walked up on the busy New York City street.

            “Yes, it's what I left early for.”

            The two of them shared a high loft apartment where Nyhtwulf could enjoy views of the city and Larry could get some peace and quiet. They walked across the street to the office building. Inside, they were greeted by Sally, the receptionist, who gave them a sweet smile.

            “He's waiting for you and in a mood,” she said.

            Commander Henry P. Larratus was always in a gruff mood and short on patience. He expected jobs to be done quickly and efficiently. Sometimes, the members of PAC liked to aggravate him just to see his bald head turn red. They were, however, careful not to do that too much. Blacktide and Nyhtwulf went straight to his office to see what the news was.

            “It's about time you two got here,” Larratus grumbled as they walked in. “I've got one that's right up your alley, Blacktide. A little girl who may be developing dangerous powers. Burned a nurse pretty badly in the psych ward this morning. Here, read the report.” He tossed a folder across the desk but didn't wait for a response, “I want you to find out if she's developing or if it's something else. Now get going.”

            Once you're dismissed by Commander Larratus, it means he has nothing more to tell you so it's useless to ask. Larry took the folder and walked out of the office. He went to his desk to look it over. As he read the nurse's story it reminded him very much of his own. Thanks to their psychic link, Nyhtwulf read the information at the same time without having to look.

            “She's just like me,” Larry said.

            “Perhaps,” Nyhtwulf answered as he put his box of cream cheese in their office refrigerator.

            They set out immediately. The story of a little girl named Isa had piqued Larry’s interest. Nyhtwulf flew overhead as Blacktide rode his motorcycle through the thick daily traffic.

The psychiatric hospital lay on the outskirts of the city in a peaceful green country setting. Pine trees and green rolling hills complimented the place's floral and well kept grounds. Inside, half of the children's wing had been evacuated. No one dared enter the little girl's room. When Blacktide and Nyhtwulf arrived they could see the relief in faces of the staff.

“No one can move her and we're done trying,” and orderly said, “Our head nurse suffered third degree burns all over her body.”

            “Just tell me which room is hers,” Larry said, not caring for the dismissive attitude he saw mixed in with their fear. He couldn't shake how everyone turned their backs on him once too. They blamed him for his powers when he never even asked to have them. They were afraid of him.

            “Room 115. Just don't upset her. That's when things go bad. Watch out for the shadows.”

            Larry walked away from the orderly abruptly and headed for the room.

            “I will wait outside in order not to frighten the child,” Nyhtfwulf suggested. “I do sense something.”

            “Good idea. What is it?”

            “I'm not sure yet.”

            Isa sat on her bed just as before and looked up when Larry knocked on the door frame. He took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his leather jacket.

            “Hey there.”

            “Are you here to take me away?”

            “Do you want me to?”

            She shrugged, “I don't know if you can.”

            “Well, let's not think about that then. Instead, do you like stories?”

            Hesitantly she nodded.

            “May I come in and sit in that chair?”

            Again she nodded.

            “My name's Larry, but they call me Blacktide. What's your name?”

            “Isa.”

            “I like that name.”

            She perked up a little, “So, what's your story about?”

            Larry leaned forward in his chair, “Well, when I was just a little older than you, something really weird happened to me.” At the sound of this she perked up even more.

            “I found out that I had an amazing ability. I could turn anything around me into smoke. It's call disintegration. Do you know what happened after that?”

            She shook her head, wide-eyed with wonder.

            “Everyone got scared of me.”

            “Everyone is scared of me too!” Isa exclaimed, “Do you also have an imaginary friend?”

            “Imaginary friend?”

            “I have an imaginary friend, but he's not very nice. Is yours nice?” The table next to the bed shook slightly.

GZ Tales: The Bard's Apple Pie Part 2

 

“Before you ask, I'll tell you,” the guitar-man said, “Those are Rotanian soldiers. They're a cold relentless army of robots from another world.” 

            “Those are robots?” Rick gasped. Unable to stand it any further, the guitar-man reached out and brushed away the egg from Rick's mustache. 

            “Yes. Robots. They're why I'm here. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try and save your town.”

            “Who are you?” Joe asked. 

            “I'm Rockaria,” he handed Joyce a hundred dollar bill, “Awesome pie!” Then he stepped out the door and into the street. As he did, he brought his guitar around in front of him and adjusted the strap. He stopped in the middle of the street facing the Rotanians. 

            “What's he doing?” Lee asked. 

            “He'll be killed,” Joyce said. 

            Without hesitation, they fired at him. He gripped the neck and threw his fingers across the strings. For an electric guitar, it needed no power source that anyone could see. It roared a chord that shook the ground and the energy bolts exploded several feet before they could reach him. It was like they hit an invisible wall. All the dust on him and his guitar burst away from them and his instrument shined magnificently in the sun. 

            The strange robots fired on him again to the same result. He turned slightly and pointed the neck end as he played a long series of notes that would make legendary rockers proud. A bolt of lightning flew from the neck to the lead Rotanian. It arced to the rest and blew all six of them apart. 

            “He is good,” Joe said. 

            “Shut up, I'm trying to pay attention to this,” Rick said. 

            “Rick, you're a jerk,” Joyce added. 

            Rockeria spun just in time to throw a chord that stopped another barrage of rifle fire. More soldiers came from the other direction. 

            “Aw, come on. They didn't just send foot soldiers! Where's the big stuff?” he chided them as he played a new arrangement. 

            The robots shook in the throw of the sonic assault and their heads exploded. Then two new robots appeared out of thin air from teleportation. These were different in that each had a four point silver star on the front of its helmet. 

            “Starhunters, it's about time,” Rockaria said. 

            They vanished as he played frantically and reappeared near him. They attacked like master martial artists punching and kicking his barrier from all directions. Suddenly, one seemed to connect and Rockaria was tossed through the window of a shop across the street. 

            “Oh no,” Joyce exclaimed. 

            “Is he dead?” Joe asked. 

            A Starhunter jumped through the window after him but a bright beam of light caught it in the chest. Its arms and legs landed in the street. Its  head landed on the sidewalk near the cafe. 

            “Nope, still kickin,” Rick reported. 

            Another beam went after the second Starhunter but it vanished again. This time a field of crackling energy formed and caught it as it reappeared. It stood stunned as he played the beam of light through its head. 

            “Now, I know better than to think we're done already,” Rockaria said.

            As if in answer, he heard the hum of extraterrestrial machinery as the bizarre looking tank rumbled into view. It rolled on studded treads and gleamed with black and silver metals. Its barrel was wide and kind of flattened and glowing with power. It leveled the barrel to aim and fired an intense beam of energy. The ground where Rockaria stood exploded in a cloud of debris and dirt. 

            “Oh, now he's dead,” Joyce shook her head. 

            “No, look over there!” Rick shouted. 

            “How'd he get over there?” Lee asked. 

            Rockaria stood on top of the tank. Its turret turned looking for him and he held his playing hand high. He brought it down hard on the strings and another explosion shook the whole street. Bits of metal rained down all around. Rockaria now stood on top of the building across from the cafe. 

            “Now what's he doing?” Rick asked. 

            “I don't know but this beats every rock concert I ever went to,” Joe said. 

            “Okay, come on,” Rockaria said, “I've shown plenty of resistance. Come out and let's finish this!” 

            A great shadow appeared over the street as the ship hovered over the town. It dwarfed the tank and probably carried everything he had fought so far. 

            “Now, we're talking,” Rockaria said. He started a new range of notes and his guitar took on a fierce glow. The more he played, the brighter it grew. From the craft, what could only be described as several red targeting beams converged on him. Brighter and brighter he glowed, until the people in the cafe had to shield their eyes. On board the ship, the main weapon charged, preparing to destroy him and the building he stood on. 

Now, the brightness engulfed all the area around him and even the ships systems had a hard time seeing him. The enemy pressed the button to fire their weapon. The explosion shattered every window in town on every car, truck and building. Joyce, Rick, Joe, and Lee were all thrown to the floor with an echoing ringing in their ears. As it faded, they slowly stood up. All they could see outside was a wall of smoke. For several minutes they stared and wondered if their town was still there. This time they thought Rockaria had to be gone with it all. 

Then they heard that guitar begin to play again. A wind rose and blew the smoke away. The ground trembled and cracks grew back together. The glass on the ground flew back into the frame like in a backwards movie. The same thing happened all across town as the damage reversed itself from the notes he played. The ship was gone and so were any signs of the Rotanians.

 The townsfolk went outside and met Rockaria as he wandered up in the street. 

            “They were going to raze your town and kill you all for mineral deposits here. Deposits they would use to make more robots.” 

            “How'd you know they were coming here?” Joyce asked. 

            “Well, it's a long story, but my guitar told me. Besides, isn't it obvious I'm not from around here?” 

            “Just a minute,” Lee ran back into the cafe and returned with a small white box. “Here. A pie to go.” 

            “Hey, thanks. This really is great pie.” 

            “What are you?” Joyce asked. 

            “I'm a bard. I use music to cast magic. Well, you'll be safe now, so you all take care,” he turned and vanished from sight. 

           The next day they changed the menu and became known for “The Bard’s Apple Pie,” the best pie in the county.

 

GZ Tales: The Bard's Apple Pie: Part 1

 

The day he strode into that dusty little town was one they wouldn't forget for generations. Dust coated his brown leather jacket. His long hair draped past his shoulders. If that wasn't enough to turn heads, the electric guitar slung across his back of red and gold certainly made up for it. He walked down the broken brick and dirt street of the little Texas town and entered the diner. On his way he passed the town barbershop, grocery, and an antique shop. It wasn’t much of a little town as you could throw a rock from end to end. It was run mostly by a few farmers and country folk so strangers stuck out like a neon sign. He took a seat at the counter and ignored the neck twisters in the room as he picked up the menu.

 

            “What can we get you?” The waitress said with indifference. He couldn't help but notice the thick invisible cloud of her perfume and how her hair was up so tight it offered migraines to onlookers. Her lipstick was on thick and red. The only thing missing from the older lady's stereotype was the loud cracking and smacking of gum.

 

            He forced himself to ignore the stench of that perfume but leaned back a little, “Joyce, it's been a long time since I had coffee or pie. So I'd like a slice of your apple pie with a nice cup of coffee, please.”

 

            With little else to do, Joyce had his order for him promptly. She almost tossed the plate down with a clatter. “Enjoy,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

 

            He was about take his first bite when the heavyset man next to him interrupted, “Actually, Mister, that's the best pie in the county.”

 

            He took his bite and chewed thoughtfully, “It is very good. I can see I came to the right place.”

 

            “So, you're a musician, huh?”

 

            “Something like that,” he paused and held the coffee cup under his nose for a moment, closing his eyes to breathe in the aroma before taking a sip.

 

            “What do you mean? You either is or you ain't.”

 

            “Man, that is good coffee. Alright, is then.”

 

            “Okay then. Are you in a rock band?”

 

            “Stop bugging the man and let him finish his business, Joe,” said a man in a hunter’s vest and hat sitting in a booth, “I'm sure he's just passing through and wants to get on his way.”

 

            The guitar-man seemed to recognize the attitude and disdain for strangers, “Not to worry, friend, as soon as I'm done, I'll be on my way.”

 

            “Rick, don't you start nothing,” Joyce warned, “You still owe Lee for a broken table.”

 

            A small man came out in an apron on cue, “Yeah, and the Sheriff said I can ban you if you break anything else!”

 

            “That's unfortunate,” the guitar-man said as he worked on another bite.

 

            “Oh, yeah?” Rick said, “How so?”

 

            “No offense, friend,” he paused on his next to last bite, “Geez, this is good pie, but as I was saying; this guitar on my back is very special. You're going to think I'm crazy, but it tells me things.”

 

            “That is crazy,” Rick sneered with egg dangling from his mustache that everyone was now noticing.

 

            “It gets better. You see, why I found you're owing this fine establishment for damages so unfortunate (if not ironic) is that, in a few minutes, you're whole town is going to need repairs.”

 

            “What the heck are you talking about?” Rick demanded.

 

            “Mister, you take your crazy talk and just be on your way,” Joyce ordered.

 

            He stood and washed down his last bite with the rest of his coffee. He turned to Joe, “Best in the county? I believe you.”

 

            “Alright now, just you go,” Joyce ordered again.

 

            An explosion rocked the place, as the guitar-man watched the townsfolk run toward the windows.

 

            To say what was coming down the road was alien would be an understatement. There were six of them carrying strange rifles with glowing barrels. They were decked out in black and silver armor, mostly black. If they had faces, they were hidden behind blank, silver masks with no features or eye holes. Their helmets reminded everyone of old samurai warriors. It would have been preferable if they were samurai warriors. They were firing beams of reddish light from those rifles at cars and the fronts of buildings. Anything they hit exploded into a ball of fiery debris.

GZ Tales: To Kill Part 2

 

“Yes! I will destroy your world, noble King! I exist to kill!”

            Maniac’s charge threw wreckage in all directions. King Falcon summoned his wings and darted into the air as a massive hand crashed to the ground. King Falcon swung his axe across the Cyborian’s shoulder. Sparks flew but little damage was done. Cyborian armor is heavily equipped with repair programs as well as weapons. Maniac responded with surprising speed and backhanded the King out of the air. King Falcon hit the ground and his body made a trench several yards long. But the King was notable for combat speed of his own, and was back into the air instantly. He hit Maniac with a beam of cosmic power, but the monster charged right through it.

            The two met head on. King Falcon swung his axe across Maniac’s chest as giant arms closed in. Maniac meant to press the hero King against another saw blade that extended from a joint in the chest. King Falcon flew out of the way just in time, and hit the monster across the head. With a jagged gash across his faceplate, Maniac grabbed the King in both hands. A massive energy surge made the whole area glow enough to be seen from space. Maniac threw King Falcon’s body through some of the starship wreckage with a crash.

            King Falcon struggle to get to his feet, “I’ve never been hit with such a surge,” he thought, “must get to my feet or…”

            A massive metal fist interrupted his thoughts and pounded him into the ground. Maniac’s laughter echoed as he followed up with one terrible blow after the other. Again and again, in rapid succession, Maniac landed energized giant fists into a forming crater. Finally, Maniac stood up over the body of King Falcon. Blood dripped from his armored hands. Maniac continued to laugh.

            “I told you, I exist to kill. My armor will repair itself soon and then I will kill your world and all its peoples. Oh, and what was that you said about distance not being a factor? Foolish pride, noble King.”

            Maniac was about to turn and leave when something caught his attention. King Falcon’s wings were extinguished and his body battered. Yet, a tiny ember of light appeared on the King’s right leg. As Maniac watched in wonder, more lights appeared. The glowing embers multiplied until the encompassed all of the King’s body. Energy readings grew fast in intensity. Maniac couldn’t figure out what they meant, but then he was blinded.

            The flash of light happened so fast and so bright that his optic sensors blinked out. A shockwave of heat turned all wreckage and the remains of the bodies to instant ashes. Maniac heard a shriek that almost made his sound sensors crackle. What he couldn’t see was the form of a great Phoenix blazing up hundreds of feet from the center of the fireball.

            When Maniac’s optics came back online, he saw an enraged King Falcon standing before him. King Falcon had his arm held back with the axe and before anything else could be done, that axe was sent for Maniac. It hit him full in the chest and spun as King Falcon held and outstretched hand to command it. A whirlwind of strikes hacked away at Maniac’s chest armor. Damage readings glared in the red.

            “I believe I said it doesn’t matter how far from home I am!” King Falcon’s voice boomed.

            The axe flew back to its master’s hand and King Falcon flew into the air. Maniac struggled to move but it was too late. The King came down in a glowing power dive with his axe. The blow made the ground shake for a mile in each direction. Maniac’s systems went into critical overdrive. King Falcon stood on his enemy’s chest and raised the axe high overhead. As he brought down the axe for Maniac’s head, the form of the Cyborian flickered and vanished.

            As his axe hit the ground, there was a peal of thunder. King Falcon stood alone. Maniac had retreated in defeat.

            “That’s right, run,” King Falcon said, “because if you ever come back, I’ll be the one doing the killing.”

            The Ring of Knowledge told him that Maniac wasn’t even in the same solar system anymore. Satisfied that his home was safe once again, King Falcon spread his wings and flew away.

            In another solar system, on some barren rock in space, Maniac hid himself. His systems would take days to repair. He seethed in rage at his defeat but knew that Arconia was out of his reach for the time being.

            “One day I will come for you, noble King and I will kill. I exist to kill.”