Mermaid Pirate Dispatch

Andrew slouched, then straightened his back, staring awkwardly at himself in the bathroom mirror. For a moment the specks of dried toothpaste water on the mirror distracted him and the blurred image of his gut slumped out over his belt. He sighed and took a step closer to the mirror. He pulled up on his cheeks with his fingers, trying to force a smile. He frowned, put his hands down, and tried again with just the face muscles. “Come on, people do this all the time,” he muttered to himself. He fumbled around with his facial muscles, finally working his lips into a shape that almost resembled a smile, but looked more like an alien’s attempt to replicate a smile based on poorly drafted written instructions.

He growled and slapped the lightswitch into the off position, yanking the bathroom door closed behind him as he left. He sat on his bed and pulled his shoes on, staring up at the photo of his parents on the wall. He took a deep, quivering breath and let it out slowly. Mom always had the best smile. Why couldn’t she have passed that on to him?

On the way out of his apartment he grabbed the big bag of Ruffles he’d left on the kitchen counter, and he locked the door behind him.

The recent rains had left the apartment building hallways and stairwells smelling extra musty lately. Every now and then he’d catch the faint, sickening scent of urine or the equally sickening, sweet aroma of blood. He was lucky though, at least his apartment building wasn’t infested with demons.

At the ground floor he pushed out into the humidity. A dark grey sky blocked out the noon sun and swallowed the tops of all the downtown skyscrapers. It made the busy street feel more cramped than usual, like some kind of indoor racetrack with cars zipping by at full speed under a low, foggy ceiling. The usual chorus of honking and yelling seemed closer than usual too, but it was the occasional scream that he hadn’t gotten used to.

Andrew hugged the bag of chips to his chest and began walking briskly toward his friend’s apartment building, just two blocks away. He could feel his heart pounding as though he’d already been jogging for an hour. He passed swiftly through the still air, creating his own breeze that left his clammy, sweaty skin feeling icy despite all the warmth from the cars and tightly-packed buildings.

“I should turn back,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder.

A car screeched ahead and he heard a woman’s shrill scream. A huge dog-like demon with flaming red eyes had jumped into the road. Another car swerved up onto the sidewalk. Andrew ducked into a nearby alley and waited, panting heavily. He heard gunshots and the creature let out a howl that rattled nearby windows. A man was yelling angrily. Another shot fired. The crunching, whining sound of a car being crushed, metal twisting, glass shattering. Then the ground shook as the beast began running. A car engine revved up and tires squealed. The gun went off again.

Andrew waited, sweat pouring down his brow and into his eyes. He blinked and wiped at his face. His eyes stung. His scalp felt tight. With shaking hands he pulled out his phone. He tried typing out a text message to Brandon, but it was impossible, so he tapped the call button.

It rang twice. “Andrew? Where you at man? We were getting ready to start without you.”

“I don’t know if I can make it. Another demon just dropped into the street right in front of me. It’s not safe out here.”

“It’s not that bad.”

Andrew caught the distinct, happy sound of giggling girls in the background.

Brandon whispered, “Come on dude, these girls won’t wait around all night, not with…”

Andrew heard glass shattering and the girls began to scream. There was a thud. “Brandon? Brandon? Are you there?”

There was chaos on the other end. He heard Brandon yelling, he heard shrill, icy screams from the girls.

“Brandon!” His pulse was running away from him. His head throbbed. He began pacing nervously in the dirty, dark alley. The smell of damp decay filled his nostrils. He didn’t even know what he was considering doing. There was nothing to do but go back where it was safe. He turned back out onto the sidewalk to head home, but came to a sudden stop and froze.

Two small demons about the size of chihuahuas were right in front of him fighting over a candy wrapper. As soon as he appeared both of their beady black eyes locked onto him and they stopped fighting and began to snarl. Thick, viscous drool dripped from their spikey teeth. Their thin lips trembled and their forked tongues flicked.

Andrew couldn’t breathe. He clutched the bag of chips so tightly that it exploded along the bottom seam. He screamed and jumped at the sound, thinking he’d been shot. As soon as he realized what had happened, he dropped the bag and ran. As he turned he saw the two demons launch at the pile of chips on the sidewalk.

He ran half a block before it dawned on him that somehow he knew the only safe place in the city was his own apartment. The demons had started appearing two years ago, and the only building they hadn’t entered, scaled, smashed, or set on fire was his apartment building. He stopped running and bent over, huffing into the space between his knees. He turned around and peered at the demons. They were fighting in the pile of chips, sending crumbs flying as they wrestled and snapped at each other.

“OK,” he gasped, psyching himself up. “You can do this.” He took a few quick, deep breaths and broke into a sprint. As he passed the writhing demons they looked up at him with wide, empty eyes and watched him go by. He craned his neck and watched one of them shove the other into the pavement as it launched toward him with the agility of a greyhound. The other shrieked and stumbled before giving chase as well.

Andrew began pumping his legs as fast as they’d go, his lungs begging him to slow down. His temples ached and he could taste blood in the back of his throat. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and couldn’t see the demons but then one slashed at his heel. He looked down and saw the other easily keeping pace on his left, looking up with a hunger on its lips. It lowered its body while it galloped, and prepared to spring up at him. Andrew veered sharply to his right into traffic. A car slammed on its horn and brakes and Andrew felt it shove his legs out from under him. He bounced off the hood, half his body exploding into a bright flash of pain, and landed on the street just as another car swerved to miss his limp body. The little demon smashed into the windshield.

Andrew groaned and struggled up onto his hands, which burned against the black asphalt. It wasn’t the street that was hot though, it was the sting of torn flesh. He got on his knees and saw that his hands were covered in scrapes and blood was seeping out. The other demon rounded the stopped car ahead of him and snarled, squinting at him.

A rush of adrenaline made his body numb and he stumbled onto his feet, falling back away from the advancing demon. One of his legs went out and he used the hood of the car to pull himself fully upright then went back around the car to the sidewalk and began running home again. He found that keeping the bad leg stiff and straight helped, allowing him to hobble quickly toward the apartment building. He only had a hundred feet to go, maybe less. He could see the ancient cut stone with its smooth, worn corners. He could almost smell the interior funk, feel the cool bronze door handles.

He looked back expecting to see the demon flying through the air at his face, but instead it was a dozen feet behind him and slowing down. Andrew limped to a stop and turned to look at his pursuer. It halted as well, snarled at him, then looked up through the thick fog toward the top of the apartment building. Andrew followed its gaze as well, up along the long columns of windows, the carved stones, and the elaborate pattern of masonry. The building was tiered, with the first level stopping at the fifth floor which was still below the clouds. Along the edge of the ledge there were carved stone gargoyles that Andrew hardly ever noticed. He remembered seeing them the day he moved into the building a few years ago, but many buildings downtown were old enough to have gargoyles and other gothic features.

Andrew looked back at the little demon. It was huffing and frowning. If it had pupils, Andrew suspected it might be rolling its eyes. He wondered why. He took a sharp breath in and realized his lungs were dry and stinging. The whole left side of his body felt like it had been crushed and scrambled. He glanced back at the little demon and back up at the fifth story ledge, and limped painfully the rest of the way to his apartment building.

Once inside his sixth floor apartment he fell all the way through the front door and onto his couch, barely getting the door to swing closed behind him. He slowly worked his way through his body checking for broken bones. Despite several large, deep bruises, he was fairly confident he didn’t break anything, which was a relief. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long, painful sigh. Then he started laughing and talking to himself.

“I’m so stupid,” he said aloud. “How did any of us think this was a good idea?” At this point he couldn’t even remember whether it had been his or Brandon’s idea to try holding a game night. “We’ve got a demonic apocalypse raging out there and a couple of nerds really thought they could get laid by inviting a couple of chicks over for games?” The only reason they had chosen Brandon’s apartment was because he had a spare bedroom. He still remembered the way Brandon used to wiggle his eyebrows when he talked about that spare bedroom.

The sharp clack of stone against his window made Andrew jump and shake. But it didn’t just hit once, it hit three times, quickly and in succession. Like knocking.

Andrew looked over to the window and frowned. The blinds were closed and his curtains were drawn shut as well. He rarely looked out. He didn’t care to watch the world succumb to the wrath of demons most of the time.

A muffled voice came in from outside. “Did I hear you say something about a game night?” It sounded like an angsty teenager with a face full of pimples. The sharp rapping on the window resumed. “Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink.”

“Stop! You’ll break the window,” Andrew yelled. He took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to get up. Why was someone outside his window? How was anyone out there? He knew that the fifth story ledge was accessible from his floor, but the landlord expressly forbade people from going out onto the ledge. There were occasional fire exits available out there, and Andrew knew where his was, but beside that he knew he wasn’t supposed to be out there. Was another tenant spying on neighbors? Andrew shuddered and shook his head.

“Hey, did you say game night?” The voice sounded closer to the glass now and he heard scraping. Then the knocking resumed.

“Cut it out!” Andrew yelled. “I’m coming to the window, just give me a second. I was just hit by a car and it takes me a minute to get moving.”

“Yeah I saw,” the voice said. “Pretty crazy. Smart of you to come back here. I can wait. Take your time.” There was a grating sound against the glass, like someone was rubbing a rock against it.

Andrew took another deep breath and winced, then rolled forward and prepared to get up.

“Hey, what kinds of games were you going to be playing?” the voice called in. The scraping accompanied every word, like he was rubbing a rock around on the glass while he spoke.

“Just a minute!” Andrew cried impatiently. The pain was overwhelming, especially in his left hip and knee. He grunted loudly as he got up onto his feet and stood still for a second, assessing the pain.

“Right, sure,” the voice went on. “Yeah, like I said, I can wait. I’m pretty good at waiting, I guess. I’ve had a lot of practice at it. I mean…” Every word sounded like it was about to bust through the glass, shattering it into a million pieces. It was almost like nails on a chalkboard.

“Please stop!” Andrew yelled. “I’m coming over to open the window, but you have to give me a second!”

“Oh, yeah.” The voice said haltingly.

Andrew groaned and took a limping step toward the window. It hurt a hundred times worse than it had on his way up to the apartment. The adrenaline was wearing off. He was going to feel like a pulpy pain stew by morning.

The rock slid against the window again and Andrew steeled himself, clenched his jaw, and hobbled quickly over to the window. “OK, I’m here. Just give me a second to open it.”

“Alright,” the voice mumbled dejectedly, rocks still sliding against the glass.

Andrew pulled back the curtains and lifted the blinds then screamed and stumbled back at the sight of a stone face pressed against the glass staring in at him. It was smiling eagerly, with a mildly crazed look in its rocky eyes.

The blinds crashed down again and Andrew fell on his rump. His stinging hands flared up with intense pain and every bruise in his body lit up like an exploding firework.

“Hey are you alright? What’s the matter?” The voice had lifted off the glass for a moment, but then the figure vaguely appeared as a silhouette blocking the diffused outdoor light through the blinds. Huge, fat hands appeared next to the round head shape.

Andrew was breathing heavily, clutching his chest with one hand and lifting his throbbing hips off the ground with the other.

“You don’t need to be scared of me,” the voice continued. “I know I can be scary sometimes but I swear I’m not. My friends say I’m awesome. Tons of fun.”

“Stop!” Andrew shrieked, surprising himself at how high his voice was. He cleared his throat. “Give me a second.” He slowly worked through the pain back onto his feet, then stepped toward the blinds again. He twisted the rod that rotated the pitch of the slats until he could see straight out through the window. He gasped.

The stone face grinned and waved. “Hi.” Its muffled voice made less sense now that he could see the source.

Andrew peered at it, leaning gently forward and temporarily forgetting the intense pain signals rocketing through his nervous system. The stone figure had wide, round eyes under stubby horns that stuck out from its forehead. Useless wings protruded lazily from behind scrawny arms. His upper body was bare, with carved details for a flat chest and a tubby little belly. The stone figure was only visible from the waist up, and if it hadn’t been moving it would have looked like a fairly typical, if not wimpy, gargoyle.

“You’re stone,” Andrew said blankly.

The figure nodded and blinked, clasping his hands behind his back and swaying from side to side.

Andrew watched closely. Stone shouldn’t be able to move like that. It should crumble or crack. But this stone creature was moving like it was made of flesh.

Autopilot dictated that he should open the window. He was too stunned to assess the situation rationally. Perhaps the introduction of demons to his otherwise normal life had prepared him for a talking stone gargoyle. He pulled the blinds up by the string and unlatched the window before hefting it up. The old window creaked and grumbled on its way up, quickly sliding to a stop with a thud.

Andrew stared with an open mouth.

“Hi!” the gargoyle started. “I’m Garth.”

Andrew blinked.

“What’s your name?”

Andrew didn’t blink.

The gargoyle sighed and his shoulders dropped a little. “I told the guys this was a bad idea.” His eyes lowered and he bowed his head.

Andrew closed his mouth and opened it again like a fish.

Garth took a short breath, looked up at Andrew, and turned to leave. “Hey guys!” he called out. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Andrew shook his head and tried to take a step toward the window. A bolt of pain shot up his bad left leg and he stumbled, grabbing the edge of the window to break his fall. He heaved his head out and looked in the direction Garth was sulking toward. A group of gargoyles was huddled at the corner of the fifth floor ledge. They were watching Garth intently. There was a lanky, tall gargoyle, a short stubby one, an outright round gargoyle, and a few that Andrew couldn’t see clearly. None of them were muscular or scary like the gargoyles on the other buildings. These looked like the cast of a nerdy sitcom but with horns and wings and made of stone.

One of the group pointed at Andrew with wide eyes and Garth turned around excitedly to see Andrew with his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “Hey buddy!” he said, quickly returning to the window. He grinned and clasped his rocky hands together. “You can tell us your name later. Let’s talk games. We like D&D, but we’re open to whatever else you might have so long as it takes a long time and…”

“Dungeons and Dragons?” Andrew coughed. He tried to recoil back to a standing position but the back of his head knocked against the low window and he nearly dropped to the ground.

The gargoyle lunged forward and shot one of his thin arms through the window to grab Andrew by the back of his belt. “Woah there buddy, I’ve got you,” he said. Despite being thin, the arm was surprisingly strong. Andrew realized that neither of his feet were touching the ground. His hands were clinging to the window sill and his back end was entirely supported by the gargoyle.

“Uh, thanks,” Andrew said, finding his footing.

Garth gradually released his grip and pulled back. “You ever played D&D?” he asked.

Andrew nodded, rubbing the back of his head. “That was our plan for tonight. I doubt the girls would have been into it, and it certainly wasn’t the game for getting them…” he paused and scowled at himself. “Sorry, I…” Andrew stuttered.

“Hey, we get it,” Garth said nodding over to his friends. “Nobody likes a nerd. Weirdos don’t get laid. We don’t even get to fight demons. They used to come around from time to time, but now they just leave us alone.” His countenance fell and he looked down at his feet.

Andrew gawked at Garth. After a moment he said, “I’m Andrew. Nice to meet you.”

Garth looked up, beaming. Somehow his little rocky eyes had a sparkle in them. An excitement built in his body and he did a little dance before thrusting a victorious fist into the air. “Operation: Meet a Human was a success!” he cried out.

Andrew laughed.

[Reddit Post]