Chapter 13 - Taking Care of Business
Story by Isaac Prin on SoFurry
Richard has some plans for Isaac and friends while the law is creeping up on him.
It is with great regret that I must say that Richard’s plan went further than a mere whistle. It was beyond agonizing them into submission. Simply put, it was more thought-out than most of my professors’ lectures during the semester finals.
The whistle was only the first step in such a convoluted plan as his. He neglected to tell us what he would act upon after the eventual demise of the aliens who dwelled in our basement, but he did mention:
“Once we have them disposed of, the rest will soon find themselves in different circle. A rather crimson one, but nonetheless rightfully deserving.”
He spoke of something I could not ponder about for long, as he then recounted his experiences with creatures of an eerie resemblance to the ones captured. The new assistant to Mr. Laythorne had graded countless essays surrounding medieval and Renaissance literature to be turned in to him by the next morning bell. Tired and disgruntled with the inadequate pay compared to his workload, he took a brief reprieve from his work to down a concoction of coffee and a cheap energy drink to finally awaken him. As he sipped and later chugged the beverage, his kitchen was soon overwhelmed with the sounds of lightning, forgoing all expectations of clear weather until the following Saturday. He considered the bolt to be only a buildup of excess static not caused by watercolor clouds rolling in without due reason. It was then that Richard spit out the drink (as he should have in the first place), nearly choking himself with it, when he gazed and gawked at the sight of a man standing firmly outside the window in the backyard. A man who was not human in silhouette.
The pointed ears sat crooked atop the man's head as his form swayed. With the new moon out, he could not make out any more features, aside from a swinging tail laying limp on the lawn. The stranger easily stood a foot taller, or so Richard had remembered it. He grabbed a flashlight out of the closet adjacent, and after he shone on the creature from the apparent safety of his own door, the light was swiftly thrashed from his hand, now carved with blood and smelled of antiseptic. Richard kneeled, almost folded over, in pain; his hand burned where the blood escaped onto his palm and wrist. He drew shallow breaths as the creature crept closer to his contorted, cowering countenance. Richard looked deep into the solid blue eyes and, moreover, the canid nose and muzzle that sighed a stench of salmon.
“You won't hurt me or my friends,” a deep, growling voice resonated from the wolfman. As if triggered by a pure adrenaline shot to the heart, Richard unclipped a pistol from the inside of his pants’ waistline, and unloaded several shots at his assailant. However, Richard was left-handed, and the right handed bullets flew, only one ever hitting the Wolfman in his lower leg. The Wolfman howled in his own pain, but still found the energy and resolve to sprint out of sight into the forest, where Richard pursued him, shooting and reloading for several minutes, howling a tune of his own enjoyment for revenge. In the blind fit of rage, he had awoken many of his neighbors. After police investigation, the Court ruled Richard had a bout of insanity, which caused him to hallucinate monsters and claw at his own hand. Who would believe that a wolfman had sliced open his hand and that was what Richard was shooting at?
Given recent events, we would.
After he explained what happened that kick-started the whole revenge scheme, I was finally caught up, having only known about a vague attack and his week in the hospital. I was thoroughly convinced that these aliens were related to Richard's attacker, especially the red wolf.
“After our little test,” Richard went on, “I think it's safe to say they won't give us any trouble. I believe we can continue the on to step two interrogation.”
“We're gonna question dem?” Dan asked. “'Bout what?”
“Their plans for invasion.” Richard ambled about the kitchen, probably to craft some intricate questions for the quartet. Shortly thereafter, someone rapped on the door leading into the living room.
“Open up, Mr. Lee,” a stern yet slightly muffled voice emanated into the house.
Richard walked over and opened the door to find a policeman in a crisp, blue uniform. I worried for Richard's safety as he had tense relations with the law, but his smirk showing the calculating demeanor I grew fond of.
“We had some noise complaints from your neighbor, a Miss Joan Garrett. I thought it would be in your best interest if I investigated, given you're not all there.”
His thick-mustachioed face and crew cut had this look of “Tell me where you're keeping them, or I'll kick your ass to Pittsburgh and deck you into Lake Erie.” I could just sense that he knew about the incident that happened the night before, but he didn't seem too disturbed by Richard's overtly unperturbed behavior upon seeing a cop at his doorstep.
“I can assure you, officer, that nothing other than some harmless fun happened.”
“What fun we talking? Ms. Garrett said she heard shouting and two thuds through that fence.”
“My two friends and I were drinking in the backyard, and we were playing around.”
“I don't smell no alcohol on ya.”
“I didn't drink much, just a couple of cans. They went through quite a few shots of whiskey.”
The cop looked over at Richard's shoulder at me and Dan leaning against the living room wall, feigning a hangover. We groaned with the occasional “my head” and “never again” sprinkled in. The cop turned to Richard and raised a finger to his chest.
“Tell theirselves to quit jagging around. We don't need two more village drunks in this community, ekspecially Halloween night.”
“Understood. Glad we could clear up this confusion.”
The officer’s discontented stare softened into stoicism.
“Sure. I'll head down to Ms. Garrett's to give her the news an nat. See ya.”
“Thank you, officer.” Richard closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief and slouching against the wooden panel. His collectedness washed away, now warning us that the law will get suspicious at every turn.
“What will we do now?” I asked.
Richard gazed through the blinds and smiled an uncomfortable smirk, the corners of his lips turned up almost in a cartoonish way and his eyebrows so furrowed, they were fighting for the space above his cold eyes. He flattened his hand against the wall, and he faced away from us and laughed into a sinister cackle. He pounded his fist into the wall twice, the latter deafening the former. His gaze snapped at us, flicked to the hallway closet to his right, and back to us, coupled with a stretched, toothy grin. His deep voice was less commanding and more threatening.
“I believe it's time for our little guests to explain a few things."