Have Club Will Travel
Have Club Will Travel
Michael Joy
Smashworks Edition
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I awoke in the middle of the afternoon, something had disturbed my sleep. I slid my pistol out of the night stand and then pulled on a pair of pants and picked up a tomahawk before I flipped the security bar off my bedroom door. It swung open heavily the steel core making its weight easily ten times what most people chose for an interior door. There had been a strange sound in my apartment. Someone had slid an envelope under my front door while I slept.
I approached the envelope carefully, I came at it from one side and I sniffed the air looking for some trace of men or creatures in the vicinity of my home. Turning on the security monitor I rewound the tape and observed the last three minutes of traffic in the hallway. The person who handled the delivery was human, and wearing a semi uniform to identify him as a courier, one of the small independent businesses.
From the scent that emanated from the envelope I could tell who had sent the parcel, if I had been interested enough I could have remembered the scent of the courier. Some people can remember voices or their ex-boyfriends birthday. I can follow the scent of a man who has walked through the wilderness, or along the sidewalks of Miami for that matter. I leaned in closer and decided to make note of the couriers scent just in case. A Sasquatch had sent the message, or at least he had handled the envelope.
I have a small collection of electronics that only people of deep and consuming paranoia bother to own; firstly I swept the package with a bug detector in particular one that detects electronic emissions, then I used a metal detector. I had met this Sasquatch before and I had not enjoyed the experience, why would they contact me again? This was even more invasive than when they had called my cell phone while I was at home, the first part of the message would appear to be that they knew how to find my home.
I was delaying where I should take action. Their people are not known for subtle actions, if they meant me harm it would have happened. I used the back spike on my tomahawk to slit the envelope and pulled out the message. The envelope was a good bond such as lawyers used in an earlier generation and I pulled out the elegant message, there were wildflowers embossed on the paper. "We desire your assistance again, we are willing to pay cash or in information." Well that was clear enough, I wondered which I should choose.
I called the phone number included; if they wanted to give me information then I was willing to assist them. I had decided that my fees would likely be too high if they wanted to pay in cash. "You want my assistance with something, has one of your employees been kidnapped again?"
The response came in that curious metallic voice created by the electronics which raised the frequency of their voices to a frequency that humans can distinguish as speech. "No, we wish you to assist us with a negotiation."
"I thought that your people had employees who would handle interface with humans?"
"Yes but we will need someone with your special skills."
"So you are in need of a scent hunter who can tell which human has handled an item, or has been to a location, it appears to me that your people can also hunt by scent."
"We do use scent possibly even more so than you. We need your other skills, as a warrior who looks as other humans."
"If I am going to help you then you will give me payment in advance I will likely need answers to at least three questions, more importantly you will tell me everything you know about the situation in advance."
"I will call you back."
As the phone clicked off I threw my tomahawk at a dartboard hung on my wall, it is less than twenty feet away, 13 feet six inches to be precise so the blade hit in the centre of the board. I was standing in my own space so I knew the distances to the inch from where I stood. I was not carrying a traditional tomahawk, with the narrow axe head and back spike, I was using a modern throwing axe, made of composite material it has a sharpened blade at the top of the weapon where in earlier times there would likely be a flat area, in the same manner the handle ended in a blade as well. This means that it functions more like a heavy shuriken, properly thrown, it will arrive point first at any distance. This is the exact opposite of something like a throwing knife which will rotate through the air and will only be traveling point first every ten feet or so.
I learned to throw with an old style throwing knife therefore I frequently pace off distances so that I know them. For example in my building I know that if I threw from the front door of my apartment I would score a clean hit on a man coming up the short flight of stairs from the street if I held the handle of a knife, on the other hand if I was throwing down the hallway towards that end I would grasp a knife by the blade as the distance would allow an extra half rotation before the weapon hit. I have only been practising with the new style throwing axe for a few months, the chief disadvantage of the weapon is that it is hard to carry, too many razor sharp points to cover, this makes for a sheath that is overly complex and I have not been able to train my muscles to draw the weapon in less than a second and a half. Today I would leave it behind.
I had now seen the blurring speed of a Sasquatch club twice, once only as a threat when the small end had hit the handle of a spoon, the other time I had seen it used in combat, I had noticed not only the speed but also the precision and split second timing, any weapon that required a man or other creature to close within the arc of the five foot club would be effectively useless. I considered and settled on a pistol in .357 and a hunting rifle based on the old M1 rifle in 30.06. I also brought a bow and a bowie knife. Standing at my gun safe I briefly considered everything from a 32 derringer to an express rifle in .600 nitro. I selected the derringer and then locked the safe.
The phone rang as I was packing my duffle bag. It held some electronics and body armor that might be useful. "So what questions do you want answered?"
"My first question is what are the reasons that your people have not chosen to join in some kind of official agreement which would give you status with our council or possibly with humans generally and allow you to move about unhindered?"
"So these are the kinds of questions that you will ask rather than for money? We would be willing to pay $50,000 for your time."
"I would prefer the answers."
"We have a cab waiting to pick you up."
There was in fact a cab waiting outside my building the driver took us north, making good time despite the heavy afternoon traffic, while I was massaging sun block into my sensitive skin my phone rang. My representative on the council gave me a list of seven questions that they wanted answers for, well they would get the information I could supply. Luckily I had the day off and I would not need to report for work for at least 30 hours. I glanced at my watch it read 5:16 well 29 hours and 44 minutes.
Half an hour later we pulled into a small air strip and passed through the security gate, my identification with Homeland Security was surveyed and we rolled towards a hangar close to the gate. A twin engine plane was warming up and I was in the passenger seat within a minute no-one even asked who I was. The only information that I could spot was that there was a newspaper from Jacksonville stuffed in with the maps.
We took off almost immediately and were heading north and west. After the plane was airborne the luggage area door opened behind me and a shaggy head peered out. The door was less than four feet tall and maybe three feet wide bu
t the Sasquatch walked out on all fours as if it was a casual event, no need to squeeze down or around. I considered that the majority of people I dealt with would make a much bigger production of moving through that kind of opening. I could see the dun colored face mask that would prevent me from infecting him. He took a seat which was a double wide across the aisle from me. I had noticed that there was a small electronic speaker and a microphone set up at that location therefor I had chosen the other chair.
Even wearing dark glasses to cut the glaring sun light through the cabin windows I had no difficulty recognizing the individual that I had met twice before. I noted that he seemed to have aged somewhat in the couple of months since we had first met, there were a few more strands of grey in his pelt and there was something about the eyes that spoke of enduring regular pain. I had twice seen him spit blood. He had never given me a name. I had heard a Sasquatch name spoken to another of their people so I knew that they had names, I had never given him mine, as he clipped the microphone to the vest he wore I started the conversation.
"My name is Hund."
He regarded me silently, "you bring many weapons Hund."
"You said you needed my skills as a warrior not as a tracker."
He had leaned his great club