A Troll is Haunting Tex's

That's why I like guys who do weights, they do the lifting and a girl can just relax and do what she does best and I'm sure you don't need to ask what that is but if you do, well, I've still got some of those pamphlet things my Mom gave me when I was a teenager that kind of explain these things coz hey, babies one day and it might be a girl and I might need those pamphlets but you know, by the time she gave me those I kind of already had the practical stuff down so they weren't much use to me coz I was onto the advanced stuff by then and wasn't that copy of the Kama Sutra I looked at in the town library just so fascinating and educational and my boyfriend kind of liked it back then when I suggested some of that stuff and hey, sorry, I got a bit distracted there but if you need them?

No?

Okay, sorry, I'm losing the thread but you get the idea, right? I was kinda anticipating some real front seat fun with my guy. Back seat too if he wanted. But hey, we were talking about that troll hunting trip weren't we...? Thinking about that front seat's just sooooo distracting.

Uh, so where was I before I got side-tracked?

Tex's and monster hunting, that's right. Tex, he'd said a few of the guy's 'd be there. A whole bunch of the guys that I hung out with online on LIT. A group of the Aussies had flown in from Oz yesterday. Jason, Electric Blue (EB, I always called him), ColdDiesel and Ishtar, Bramblethorn as well, they'd come as a team and I was really looking forward to meeting them. Tex had already pinged me once yesterday afternoon and said they were there and he had them out the back playing with the guns and that was so cool coz Aussies were the greatest and Jason had apparently picked up a Vollmer VK-12 from somewhere after he'd flown in and those were hard to get. EB had managed to talk his way in with some kind of koala bear on a leash and god alone knew how he'd got it through Customs and Immigration. Some kind of support animal probably.

Resourceful guys, those Aussies.

Koalas? They're so cute and so very fluffy and cuddly.

I was looking forward to stroking that koala bear's fur and giving it a huge cuddle

Tex had pinged again early this morning and he didn't sound too happy in that second message coz he said the Aussies had bought along a truckload of VB, which is some kind of Aussie beer as it turns out, that they'd found in some liquor store in Dallas on their way over after they'd picked up their guns and ammo and they were drinking it out back in the shade at eight in the morning and they were busy warming up by blowing away one of Tex's planter boats and that VK-12 really rocked but they were blowing the crap out of his garden and could we haul ass.

Please.

Tex, he'd said please so okay, Steve was hauling ass and in an F350, yeah, you can really haul ass if you want to and Larry's F350 came with that Triton SOHC V10 rated at 362hp and Larry, he plays with his engine. Swapped out the 2-valve heads for 4-valve, switched out the gears, put in a Banks Ram-Air intake, TorqueTube exhaust manifolds, some muffler mods, a Whipple supercharger and he'd done some performance tuning. God knows what he had planned next but whatever. That end result that we were driving right then was a rip-snorting, kick-ass V-10 so it was a bit more than just hauling ass, as in "fuck me but this beast goes" more as Steve had said a while ago when he decided to push it a little after Tex called, so when I say hauling ass, yeah, we were frigging really hauling ass.

Just gotta stay on the road but with all that weight in the back, all the guns and ammo, so far, so good 'n of course I trusted Steve so I was just taking it easy with my feet up on the dash drinking some crap coffee from that last fast food atrocity where we'd stopped at five in the morning for breakfast and I'd gotten some extra coffee to go which I was sipping on and writing on my laptop while we fishtailed our way through northern Texas before things got, well, you know, before things got "exciting".

Tell you about that soon so just hang fire there and quit asking. Now where the frigging heck was I before you interrupted me? Girl can't tell a story without someone wanting to know when the hot sex starts! Jesus, guys, hold it will ya. It'll stay hard long enough and we don't want any premature cook-off's do we! Just don't jump the gun here. Pace yourselves.

Honest to god, guys, a girl likes a guy with a bit of patience.

Aiiyaaahhh, now where the fuck was I? And yeah, I swear a lot when I'm up against monsters or talking about them. I gotta dirty mouth that comes with the monsters. Seen a few, you learn to swear, believe me coz normal words just do not adequately express the sheer fucking terror of coming face to face with a frigging werewolf that's just turned, or a chupacabra that wants to stick it's sucker straight through your skull, scramble your brains and suck your blood out. We're not even talking vampires yet. So if you don't like my fucking language, well, you can bite my asian-american ass. Well, my part-asian-american ass coz it's part non-asian as well but oh boy, this just gets so complicated coz it's a kind of Chinese-Vietnamese-Polish-with-a-little-bit-of-French mixed in there ass coz my ancestry is a bit polyglot but if you try saying all that, well, fuck it, you just give up.

I'd just point out that I don't swear in company. Mom and Dad trained me well.

Not unless I've been drinking that is, and I usually don't coz, you know, Asian alcohol intolerance gene. I got that one rather than the Polish Alcohol Tolerance Gene, dammit! Couple of beers and I'm totally incoherent and one more and I'm out so I usually stick with the alcohol free stuff and when I don't it usually turns into a big mistake like that time in that Chinese restaurant back at College where I drank a bottle of wine and then did a helicopter on that Lazy Susan and the restaurant tossed me out on my ass and then I threw up again all over my date and that really sucked for him coz he was wearing this new leather jacket and he was expecting this hot wild date. He got the wild part of the date alright. Missed out on the hot though and he never did get that coz I was just so frigging embarrassed about the whole thing I never dated him again and yeah, I'm rambling a bit but you get the idea.

No alcohol!

So, we good?

We are? Right, well let me get on with the frigging story, okay.

Okay, so where the fuck was I before I lost the fucking thread? Oh yeah, Tex's. We were talking about Tex's. Well, more than a couple of the Brit's were flying in from the UK and they were supposed to get there today as well. Ogg was coming in and HP had said he'd drop by with some artillery and I was really interested to see just what he'd bought along although he was maybe getting a little slow for any serious hand to hand monster hunting. But at stand-off range, he'd said he'd be good and a troll or two, he thought that'd be fun.

Sam was flying across with HP, picking up a car at the airport and coming straight over. I had HP's number and he had mine, said he'd call me once they were on the road and close and they'd bought along a couple of cases of English beer for Steve to try. Real beer, was what Sam and HP said. Not that watered down American stuff.

Huh!

There was enough Budweiser in the back of our truck to see who made real beer. I liked Budweiser. Real American beer! Strong too, a couple of bottles of that stuff and I was close to passing out.

Real beer! Huh!

Budweiser was real beer enough for me.

BB and Lori were coming in, they'd flown across from London a week ago, visiting Lori's family in Louisiana, been down in the bayou's and right now they were driving through from Hoosier country and last text, they were almost at Tex's and, well, that was great coz, you know, monster hunting has its risks and it'd be great to have some real medical experience right there with us. Just in case coz you never know what you might run into. Everyone coming, Tex, he'd laid out the risks and they knew, but BB, he'd been around and he knew the score and Lori, she'd grown up in Louisiana and she knew the score with guns.

She knew the score with monsters too.

Those Louisiana bayou's, they hid monsters the rest of the U.S. of A. had never dreamt of. Down there in the swamps, they had the Paralangua, the alligator-men who waited at night, silent and still on the banks of the bayou and levees until their unwitting prey drew close. The Rougarou, the Swamp Wolfman that you put 13 beans across the door at night to keep out because the rougarou has to stop and count them, but he can't count past 12, so he'd never be able to count the beans right.

There were the Fifolét, the swamp-light that leads you into the swamp and drowns you, and Marie Leveau doing gree-gree out in the swamp and calling bad children to her, and then there was Père Malfait, made of twigs and moss and bayou dirt, calling lost children to him out in the deep swamp and canebrakes and eating them; there were more, many more but oh yes, Lori, she'd grown up knowing all about monsters.

Nothing down here in the deep dark heart of old Texas would be as dangerous as some of those things hidden away in the bayous of Hoosier country.

I was kind of glad BB and Lori were coming to be honest. I mean, I'm a nurse but when things turn to complete crap, which they have a way of doing when you're hunting monsters, it's good to have someone along who really knows their stuff but I had my emergency medical bag anyhow. Better safe than sorry. Have to sort out what sort of weaponry they all had though, which was why Steve had loaded the back of the truck with pretty much everything we had. Even with the special permits, it's tough to fly international with all the stuff you need for monsters. Best pick it up locally, that's what Steve said and he'd been around, he knew.

A few of the guys from around the States were coming in as well so what with the Brits and the Aussies and that guy TP from Quebec, and wasn't he a smoothie, it was shaping up to be quite the international troll hunting party. Tex was there of course, he was totally geared up and I knew that coz we'd talked about monster hunting before 'n he'd done some now and then. His old 788 Remington bolt action, a 12 Gauge and two pistols, a Redhawk .41 mag and a 1911 .45. That's what Tex operated with. You could always tell an old Marine. They all packed a 1911.

Steve packed three.

Says it all and yeah, they were a little on the heavy side for me but my granddads had insisted I train with one back when I lived at home. So did Steve in the here and now and my Steve, he was an ex-Marine as well if I haven't already mentioned that. Myself, I preferred my Ruger SR9, but for monsters, you couldn't beat a 1911 for reliability and stopping power. That .45 round beats a 9mm to hell and back and when you're facing down monsters over the sight, reliability and stopping power, that's what you need and I always carried one.

Monster hunting, well, I usually went with my Kimber 1911 coz it ran like a sewing machine. Nothing fancy, no lights or lasers or fancy crap like that. I had a Nighthawk with all the fancy shit for playing with on the range, but when you gotta fallback on a handgun, the crap's usually already hit the fan and it's up close and personal and you got no time for anything except point and pull. Always carried extra mags for my 1911 but it was faster to use a backup handgun than to reload. Used my Ruger SR9 for backup. Small, but it was like part of me and that's what you want coz when you gotta fall back on that backup, you're running on instinct and adrenaline.

No time to think.

Melee weapons? Had a South Korean MUSAT knife for close up work. That and my katana. My almost new Daniels Defence MK18 5.56, that was my primary weapon of choice. That 10.3 inch short barrel with the suppressor was perfect for me and Steve, he'd modified it for me so I could go full auto if I needed to. Illegal, but hey, monsters don't give a crap for laws, they just wanna friggin' rip your jugular out and when they do, you got no time for half measures, you just wanna see holes. Lots and lots of holes real fucking fast. Steve, he handled the real long distance stuff with his big guns. My backup was a sawn off Remington 870 Tactical 12 Gauge in a back holster. Kicked like a bitch but when it got up close and personal, couldn't beat that 12 gauge with AP rounds. Blow holes in anything. Steve carried one too.

I'd had to fall back on mine a coupla times since I hooked up with Steve.

Really? You want to know more about that? Sure. No y problema, chico. Let me tell you 'bout those first couple of times.

Blew a swarm of mutant were-hamsters off my guy with it once and those horrors had been going for the jugular and they're not small. You think hamsters, you think small. Not were-hamsters. They're frigging mutant humans and they might still look all cute and furry when they turn but the truth is that they're ravenous human-sized hamsters that want nothing more than a snack of raw meat.

You're the raw meat.

Sure, they're down on all four legs and they've got that gorgeous glossy fur that you wanna rub your face in but you take one look at those flaming red eyes and those gnashing teeth coming at you and you're gonna crap yourself and forget the frigging fur.

I did the first time I saw a pack of them coming at me. Crapped myself I mean, like, literally, and wasn't that embarrassing coz that really screwed up our post-date makeup session until I'd washed out my leathers and had a really good shower myself 'n Steve'd been making these awful jokes all the way back to his place. So embarrassing and I'd just wanted to die. Steve, he'd laughed and started blowing them away until I got my shit together. Those .45 1911 rounds took 'em out easily enough but that 12 gauge of mine with the AP rounds, that just frigging rocked when I got it back together and opened up, I tell 'ya.

That next time we ran into the little were-monsters, that mutant swarm of them had taken Steve by surprise, we weren't even looking for were-hamsters but at least I'd known what to do. We were after a frigging Black Were-Swan that'd been screwing with the local hospital's IT department where we were kind of friends with some of the developers and Steve knew the IT Manager. Black Swan event, that's what they called it when that were-swan showed up and we'd gone along to help out. Never saw that frigging were-swan but we sure saw those frigging were-hamsters down in the bowels of the hospital's basement maze.

Saw them way to frigging late coz before we had time to react, they'd come out of nowhere and knocked Steve down and a good thing I was behind him coz they never saw me. The little mothers were all over him in a second. Good thing we were armored up, about forty pounds of Kevlar body armor each, we both had sets of Dragon Skin and Steve said that stuff was the best. Anyhow, we were wearing it that day coz those were-swan pecks can be frigging lethal but were-hamsters are worse. Those frigging teeth. Nowhere near as bad as a werewolf but they can gnaw chunks out of you frigging fast if you're not protected. So Steve went down and I didn't even think. I just jacked a shell into my sawn off Remington coz Steve'd already cut it down for me by then and started cutting loose while Steve kicked them off.

Let me tell you, those AP rounds, well, we're talking pink mist here when they hit and it was so frigging totally awesome. Steve kicked them or threw them into the air and I took them out and it was waaay more fun than trap or skeet or moving target shoots down at the range. Waaaaay more fun. That last were-hamster, it'd turned and run and my last shot took him straight up the ass, gutted him and blew out his cute little heart. Knew it was a "him" coz the balls were still attached.

Actually, we took all their balls and little hamster-dicks and sold them to a Chinese Medicine shop. No idea what they used them for and I was pretty sure I didn't want to know but they paid good money for them. More than the Feds paid when we handed in the heads for the bounty and they didn't ask what'd happened to those dicks and balls. Or the skins. Got a lovely were-hamster skin rug in the bedroom now.

Bonus!

Anyhow, that last one? I didn't just take the skin, I got the head stuffed and we lost the bonus on that one coz we didn't turn it in but no biggie. He's mounted up above the bar at home. I like to call him Luther. Give him a pat for luck every time we head out monster hunting coz that was just one awesomely good shot. Right up the bull's-eye, so to speak. Steve, he'd been a little white around the gills afterwards and his Kevlar had teeth marks all over it and he needed a coupla stitches here and there plus the immune system booster shots you could get now but nothing serious and like he said, that was why he liked me as backup. Good shot, fast, no hesitation. Draw hearts around a bull's-eye on a moving target, that was me.

Or shoot fluffy the were-hamster up the ass as he bolts.

"Can't be sentimental about these little fuckers," Steve had said, kicking one, then shooting it through the head when it snapped at his boot. They're nowhere near as infectious as a werewolf though. Or as resilient. No frigging were-hamster ever came back once you'd blown its guts to pink mist. Not much bounty on them though. They just weren't that dangerous.

Comparatively speaking.

Anyhow, crap, I know you're interested but I'm rambling again. Sorry 'bout that.

So it was Tex's party and we were meeting up at his coffee shop down in the heart of Texas. The deep dark heart of Old Texas, not the tourist Texas. The deep dark heart of Old Texas where Lechuza's, the owl witches, swoop down and carry away children who're outside after dark, where Llorona's haunt the rivers, their cries calling for you to join them, where at Hell's Gate you can hear the cries and prayers of murdered Civil War soldiers and if you listen to them for too long, the gates to hell will open for you and the ghosts of those dead soldiers will drag you down to join them in the flames. Texas where the Bragg Lights will lead you into the swamps and certain death, where el Muerto will appear in the darkness of the night, foretelling death. Where packs of chupacabra's roam, sucking the blood from their prey.

All the blood, liquefying your organs, leaving a shell of skin and bones sucked dry.

Those chupacabra's, they weren't the only monsters in Texas that sucked blood from their prey. There was the IRS, but they're part of the Fed, protected, and that's a simile anyhow. Although Steve didn't think so and he was an accountant, he should know. But no, I mean, everyone knows vampires are out there but down in that dark heart of old Texas, there were rumors of the Camazotz, the death-bat, those ancient Aztec bat-vampires, with the body of a human and the head of a bat.

Night, death, sacrifice, that's what the Camazotz were all about and Tex said there'd been a few stories lately so we all gotta be real careful. The deep dark heart of old Texas that pre-dates the United States; that pre-dates even the early Spanish conquistadores, that's dangerous territory, that Texas.

That's where we were going.

Like I was saying, it wasn't just us coming down to Tex's. This was shaping up to be a real Spring Break party and the guys were rolling in. Already mentioned the Aussies and Lori and BB and those other Brits but there were more. Doom had already turned up and apparently him and Lovecraft were going at the martial arts stuff out in the barn. Doom with his Warhammer and Lovecraft with his katana, the practice ones, so Tex had said. I was kind of looking forward to rolling with Lovecraft. We'd talked about it online, doing some sparring to warm up before we moved out, or maybe afterwards, after a weekend's hunting, Monday morning, that'd be fun.