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"The Sanguinarians"
May. 24th, 2022 07:28 am"The Sanguinarians"
2/23/1961
I.
Scotty Lansdale took a minute to examine the hotel room. It seemed acceptable. Two twin beds with a nightstand and a lamp between them. A twelve inch TV with rabbit ears on a dresser, two padded chairs and a writing desk in one corner with its own lamp and chair. There was a dial phone on the nightstand. The bathroom seemed clean enough, it had no odor he could detect but he still fretted. Kobal was touchy about smells.
Placing the suitcase and the cylindrical duffel bag at the foot of one bed, Scotty crossed over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Under a crescent moon, the snoozy main street of Perkinston, Indiana was visible across the parking lot. In an emergency, he and Dr Kobal could easily escape through this window and get into their car. Well, Scotty would. Kobal was as likely to crash bodily out through the window in his impatience.
At twenty-seven, Scotty's manner seemed older because of what he had been through. The ugly unfair divorce which had cost him his house and half his income, then the loss of his job because of the rumors spread by his ex-wife. He had lived out of his car for eight months while doing short-term odd jobs for gas money and meager meals. The courts had eventually cut him loose from his burdens as he had been bled dry, but there had been little relief in that. Knowing that Andrea was living in the house he had renovated himself, living with the damn idler who had come between them... Let it go, he thought. Nothing he could do about it now.
This motel had seemed most suitable because it had a room at the far end of the L-shaped building, and the manager's office was barely within sight. Scotty went into the bathroom, scrubbed his hands and face with hot soapy water and resigned himself to what the next few minutes would bring. He brushed his thick black hair back with his fingers but it remained unruly.
Out in the parking lot, the bright red Chevy Impala sat waiting. It was three years old, with sixty thousand miles on it, but the important thing was that he had been able to pay cash for it. Leaving as little of a paper trail as possible was crucial. As Scotty walked toward the long car, its rear door opened and a massive dark shape emerged. The car visibly lifted up on its suspension as Kobal's four hundred pounds left it.
Not more than five feet eight but broader than normal men, Dr Kobal was as always completely bundled so nothing could be seen of his person. All in black, the long overcoat and flannel trousers and thick-soled brogans were not unusual garb in this chilly March wind. The black wool scarf covering Kobal's face, the wide-brimmed slouch hat and the leather gloves were unremarkable as well this time of year.
Of course, Kobal also dressed like that on the worst dog days of Summer.
Using a thick cudgel as a walking stick, still bent over, Dr Kobal strode to meet Scotty half way. "Good, good," rumbled a deep oddly-accented voice. "The key?"
Scotty handed over one of the two keys he had been given when he had registered. "The room seems okay," he ventured.
"Arrgh. Most of my life I slept under trees with my elbow for a pillow. Hurry. Tonight, the ancient winds of trouble blow. Heads will roll across the ground."
"You do have a way with words, maybe you should have been a poet." Scotty obligingly followed the hobbling figure across the parking lot. Whether Kobal's legs were unusually short or his arms abnormally long, his proportions were definitely amiss. The Okali sorcerer lumbered through the door and was making a chair creak under his weight as Scotty closed the door behind them.
"This will do," Kobal said after a cursory glance. "You carry out your functions well, Scotty."
"Oh sure. Driving that big old cruiser up and down every highway in the nation. Buying and cooking food wherever we go. Signing different names for everything while trying to remember which of my fake drivers' licenses I'm using. And that's not mentioning all the terror and the screaming and running for dear life from drooling monsters who want to rip me apart. It's a drag, man, a king-sized drag. Still, we haven't been caught yet."
The sorcerer tugged off his leather gloves to reveal gnarled, dark-skinned hands with talons rather than fingernails. "When I found you, you did not have enough fuel in your car to drive to the next gas station. You had not eaten in a day and a half, you had not bathed for longer. Now at least, you are comfortable."
"Yeah, I suppose that's true." Scotty admitted. "You know, I never asked where you got that big old wad of twenties and fifties you were holding. You didn't bring it here from your jungle."
"Spoils taken from a fallen enemy, nothing more. That Voodoo hungan had no more need for material goods."
Scotty plopped down on the edge of one of the beds and shrugged out of his sportcoat. He was wearing a plain white dress shirt and black slacks. "What's funny is that I never liked horror movies or science fiction stories. My folks said I had no imagination. Now I'm living in a permanent nightmare."
"Arrgh. Do not despair so. You are doing worthwhile work by helping me. Surely you can see why I would find it difficult to get by without an assistant like yourself." Kobal tossed the slouch hat aside and unwound the scarf to reveal the head of a Mountain Gorilla.
( the rest of the story )
2/23/1961
I.
Scotty Lansdale took a minute to examine the hotel room. It seemed acceptable. Two twin beds with a nightstand and a lamp between them. A twelve inch TV with rabbit ears on a dresser, two padded chairs and a writing desk in one corner with its own lamp and chair. There was a dial phone on the nightstand. The bathroom seemed clean enough, it had no odor he could detect but he still fretted. Kobal was touchy about smells.
Placing the suitcase and the cylindrical duffel bag at the foot of one bed, Scotty crossed over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Under a crescent moon, the snoozy main street of Perkinston, Indiana was visible across the parking lot. In an emergency, he and Dr Kobal could easily escape through this window and get into their car. Well, Scotty would. Kobal was as likely to crash bodily out through the window in his impatience.
At twenty-seven, Scotty's manner seemed older because of what he had been through. The ugly unfair divorce which had cost him his house and half his income, then the loss of his job because of the rumors spread by his ex-wife. He had lived out of his car for eight months while doing short-term odd jobs for gas money and meager meals. The courts had eventually cut him loose from his burdens as he had been bled dry, but there had been little relief in that. Knowing that Andrea was living in the house he had renovated himself, living with the damn idler who had come between them... Let it go, he thought. Nothing he could do about it now.
This motel had seemed most suitable because it had a room at the far end of the L-shaped building, and the manager's office was barely within sight. Scotty went into the bathroom, scrubbed his hands and face with hot soapy water and resigned himself to what the next few minutes would bring. He brushed his thick black hair back with his fingers but it remained unruly.
Out in the parking lot, the bright red Chevy Impala sat waiting. It was three years old, with sixty thousand miles on it, but the important thing was that he had been able to pay cash for it. Leaving as little of a paper trail as possible was crucial. As Scotty walked toward the long car, its rear door opened and a massive dark shape emerged. The car visibly lifted up on its suspension as Kobal's four hundred pounds left it.
Not more than five feet eight but broader than normal men, Dr Kobal was as always completely bundled so nothing could be seen of his person. All in black, the long overcoat and flannel trousers and thick-soled brogans were not unusual garb in this chilly March wind. The black wool scarf covering Kobal's face, the wide-brimmed slouch hat and the leather gloves were unremarkable as well this time of year.
Of course, Kobal also dressed like that on the worst dog days of Summer.
Using a thick cudgel as a walking stick, still bent over, Dr Kobal strode to meet Scotty half way. "Good, good," rumbled a deep oddly-accented voice. "The key?"
Scotty handed over one of the two keys he had been given when he had registered. "The room seems okay," he ventured.
"Arrgh. Most of my life I slept under trees with my elbow for a pillow. Hurry. Tonight, the ancient winds of trouble blow. Heads will roll across the ground."
"You do have a way with words, maybe you should have been a poet." Scotty obligingly followed the hobbling figure across the parking lot. Whether Kobal's legs were unusually short or his arms abnormally long, his proportions were definitely amiss. The Okali sorcerer lumbered through the door and was making a chair creak under his weight as Scotty closed the door behind them.
"This will do," Kobal said after a cursory glance. "You carry out your functions well, Scotty."
"Oh sure. Driving that big old cruiser up and down every highway in the nation. Buying and cooking food wherever we go. Signing different names for everything while trying to remember which of my fake drivers' licenses I'm using. And that's not mentioning all the terror and the screaming and running for dear life from drooling monsters who want to rip me apart. It's a drag, man, a king-sized drag. Still, we haven't been caught yet."
The sorcerer tugged off his leather gloves to reveal gnarled, dark-skinned hands with talons rather than fingernails. "When I found you, you did not have enough fuel in your car to drive to the next gas station. You had not eaten in a day and a half, you had not bathed for longer. Now at least, you are comfortable."
"Yeah, I suppose that's true." Scotty admitted. "You know, I never asked where you got that big old wad of twenties and fifties you were holding. You didn't bring it here from your jungle."
"Spoils taken from a fallen enemy, nothing more. That Voodoo hungan had no more need for material goods."
Scotty plopped down on the edge of one of the beds and shrugged out of his sportcoat. He was wearing a plain white dress shirt and black slacks. "What's funny is that I never liked horror movies or science fiction stories. My folks said I had no imagination. Now I'm living in a permanent nightmare."
"Arrgh. Do not despair so. You are doing worthwhile work by helping me. Surely you can see why I would find it difficult to get by without an assistant like yourself." Kobal tossed the slouch hat aside and unwound the scarf to reveal the head of a Mountain Gorilla.
( the rest of the story )
