“Why does monster hunting always go so wrong?” Somehow I’d ended up stuck in the trap I’d set up instead of the monster I was supposed to be hunting and that was actually the least of my problems.
Because I liked being tied up.
“You can figure this out.” Giving myself a peptalk probably made me look nuts but I was hoping I was the only one in the sandy woods that surrounded Bladenboro. “You managed not to offend that Bigfoot. This is going to be fine.”
Nothing ever went fine, but if I repeated it enough, I’d believe it eventually.
“Okay. What do you do first?” If panic wasn’t an option, I needed to figure out a plan. “Um. What do I have in my pockets?”
Nothing helpful unless breath mints would help me get myself out of a rope net. It’d seemed like a good plan when I’d been going through my options, but somehow, I’d forgotten to include how fucking clumsy I could be into my metrics.
“Live and learn.” Yes. “I’ll remember for next time.”
I really wasn’t a complete fuckup no matter what my family thought. “You’re going to catch an actual monster who’s causing problems. This is just a setback. You can do this. It’s literally the family business.”
It would’ve been nicer if the family business was something more relaxing like world domination or working in the tech industry, but I wasn’t that lucky. I’d always thought it made sense that if there were monsters someone needed to hunt them, but eventually I’d just come to realize my family was bat shit nuts…and probably the monsters that needed to be eradicated.
“Next time you’re going to remember to put a knife in your pocket.” It wasn’t doing any good in my backpack at least ten feet down. “And next time you’re also going to remember to practice not talking to yourself.”
I didn’t do very well on my own but luckily being on my own meant no one could realize I was just as nuts as the rest of my family.
“At least you’re not homicidal.” That made me better than them. “It’s got to be homicide if what they’re trying to kill talks back.”
Right?
I really didn’t have anyone in real life to confirm that with, but the monsterish people I’d met online definitely would’ve agreed with me if they knew I was a human who came from a line of possible serial killers.
“No. That line of thinking is not helpful.” Mostly because I couldn’t tell how many people-monster-things any of them had killed. “Big fish kind of stories don’t count.”
Ugh.
I was the fish this time.
“Note to self, no more fishing with any kind of net.”
Okay.
“Stop getting distracted.” What could I do ten feet off the ground hanging from a tree? “Can you reach the knot? Can you reach the tree? Can you stop talking to yourself?”
No.
No.
No.
“Good grief.” I really shouldn’t have gone out monster hunting before breakfast. “How long does it take to die from dehydration?”
Had anyone in the family died that way?
We’d fallen off cliffs and out of trees and a variety of stupid and newsworthy ways. Basically, if there was a Florida Man type of story where someone ended up dead I was probably related to them, but I’d always thought I was too smart to end up like that.
“It’s probably fucking genetic.” I was really hoping how hard the rope was making me wasn’t genetic, though. “Not going to think about that.”
What could I think about if escaping my own rope hell wasn’t on the list either?
“You’re going to be proud of yourself for making a competent trap that would hold The Monster of Bladenboro. That’s something.” As long as the big cat-like monster wasn’t too much bigger than the locals had estimated, I’d done a great job at designing the trap. “You found a legit monster that’s causing problems and you got stuck before the weird half-swamp half-sandbox gets too hot.”
It didn’t matter if they had some kind of zoo animal that’d escaped and bred with something local or a real man-eating type monster, I’d found something dangerous and that I couldn’t have a coffee with. That meant I could kill it without feeling guilty or ending up in jail. This was just a tiny set back in the grand scheme of things and one I wasn’t going to tell my family about.
“Alright. You need a plan.” I could do that. “You just need a starting point. After that you can change whatever you need but a place to start is a must.”
Yes.
It was just like that writing meme I’d seen online. I couldn’t edit something that wasn’t on the page…or something like that. I could edit as I went. I just needed to have something on the page…or in the plan in my case.
“You’re going to get out of this. You’re going to kill the monster that’s eating the local livestock. You’re going to find a fucking therapist who won’t have you committed.” I was also going to learn how to stop wiggling so much because the net was getting tighter and that was turning me on even more. “You’re also going to have a firm conversation with your cock about when it’s appropriate to ask for attention.”
My to-do list was getting ridiculous but I’d do nearly anything to be able to stay away from my family.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and forced the rest of my body to stop squirming. It didn’t help the erection situation, but it did slow my heartbeat down to a functional level. “I can wait for someone to come walking out here. I’m technically not far from civilization even though the South forgets what that word means sometimes.”
North Carolina wasn’t the worst with that but towns rapidly faded to nothing and sometimes were very far apart considering what year we were living in.
“A local will come hunting for something eventually.” I just wasn’t sure how long I could go without water. My brain gave a random two days answer but that couldn’t be right. “You can try to start pulling on the ropes.”
I was starting to wish I hadn’t been so confident about asking that mage for help with my supplies, though.
He’d been weird but really helpful and I wasn’t sure anything could saw through the ropes that were currently rubbing against my ass every time I wiggled. I needed thicker pants next time I did something stupid involving ropes. “If a dinosaur couldn’t bite through them my fingers probably aren’t going to do much.”
To say he’d been odd would’ve been an understatement, but I’d fallen back on the I could have coffee with him rule and had behaved myself.
“What else?”
There had to be something else?
Fuck it.
“HELP!”
I was just going to say it was a college prank gone wrong and do my best not to end up on the internet…and if it came down to it, I’d just tell my rescuers I was from Florida.
“HELP!”
Ten minutes and a sore throat later, I’d just about given up calling for attention when something moved behind me and I heard a deep breath.
Had that actually worked?
Where were they?
Uh. Trying to turn around just made the ropes tighter.
“Please don’t take pictures. My parents are nuts and I can’t afford to end up online because I did something stupid.” That seemed like a good place to start and I looked young enough to pull it off, but no one answered. “They’ll stop paying my tuition if I end up online.”
I wasn’t that young but generally people couldn’t tell unless they looked close enough to see the stress lines forming around my eyes.
Had they already pulled out their phone?
That was rude.
“I’m serious. My world ends if they see this.”
Literally.
If they’d kill someone they could have coffee with, they’d kill me.
Nothing.
Had they gotten closer?
“Hello?”
Did they not know how to use their phone?
Was my rescuer unable to talk?
Oh.
For fuck’s sake.
How did my day keep getting worse?
“What the fuck are you?” Well, I could knock off having coffee with it off my worry list. It was some kind of weird big cat and vampire wolf hybrid that looked slightly rabid. Nothing nature made was that ugly unless Australia was involved somehow. “You’re not even a zoo animal.”
Maybe one of its monstrous ancestors had slept with one?
If humans would sleep with anything, some animals must too, and it’d supposedly been killing things since the early 1950’s, so it couldn’t be the same animal.
“God. I’m going to get eaten by some kind of rabid zoo animal wannabe.” I couldn’t even get eaten by something normal like an alligator like cousin Micky.
That definitely would’ve been less creepy considering the weird big cat thing was circling under me and looked like he was measuring the distance between us.
How tall could cats jump?
Wait. High.
How high could they jump?
No. We didn’t need to figure that out.
“Um, you really don’t want to try to reach me. Magic ropes. Sorry. No. Not sorry in this case.” Which was a worse way to die dehydration or rabid cat creature?
Oh dear.
Was he stretching?
Did cats need to stretch before they tried to eat a monster hunter that didn’t have common sense?
“I really need to figure out what you are before you eat me.” How long was that going to be? “Oh. That was. You were.”
Fucking with me.
It’d been fucking with me.
“Good jump, murder kitty. Good jump.” If people could teach cats to use those buttons maybe I could teach him not to eat me? “No touching but good jump.”
Considering he’d come within inches of my ass without much effort, I was pretty sure we’d answered the how high question.
Too high.
His muzzle or nose or face or whatever I was calling the front of his head barely grazed the bottom of the net, but there was no way he’d tried his hardest to reach me. The crazy creature wasn’t even out of breath as he started circling me again.
It was freaky as hell, but as bad as it was to see him watching me hungrily, it was worse when I couldn’t see him. Hearing him breathing and knowing all those teeth were focused on me had my heart pounding so hard in my ears I couldn’t hear anything else.
“Good murder kitty. Sweet murder kitty.” All those button people used short sentences with simple words, right? “Happy murder kitty. Stupid Henley is yucky. Not food.”
There was no way I’d be a good snack. I was stringy and didn’t have nearly enough fat on me to make me juicy. Everyone knew lean steaks weren’t good unless you cooked them right. Eating me raw would suck.
“Henly is human. Henley is stupid.” Oh. He’d stopped again. “Smart murder kitty.”
Maybe if I was lucky he’d have some kind of praise kink?
“Good murder kitty.” I really hoped he was some kind of cat. As far as I could tell he seemed to be mostly cat but the canines and something about the shape of his head said dog to me. “Pretty murder kitty.”
What the fuck?
Had that actually worked?
Sitting down, the cat-like thing cocked his head back and forth like a confused dog that was trying to work out what the fuck was going on.
“Good murder kitty. You’re so smart.” The worst part about the whole situation was that it looked like my father was right. I was too stupid to survive on my own and now I was going to be eaten by a monster.
A real one…not the Bigfoot lady my father had tried to get me to go take out because she’d ended up in too many tourist photos.
Just because she seemed to be some kind of exhibitionist didn’t mean she needed to die.
“Pretty murder kitty.” He had pretty eyes at least. The rest of him was too scary to be considered pretty but that wasn’t his fault. “Strong murder kitty. I can see your muscles. You’re a big guy, aren’t you?”
Well, I hoped he was a guy otherwise I’d really insulted some female who couldn’t help being built like the cross between a linebacker and one of those ancient looking monster dogs in Europe.
I knew more about monster variants than I did real animals and I was starting to think that was a strategic error.
“I can see how everyone calls you smart.” And scary and a predator. Those teeth. “You’re studying the situation and not just randomly trying to attack me.”
Please God and everything that might be out in the universe, I did not want that thing to start attacking me.
Oh, shit.
It was stretching again and it looked like he was getting ready to use all those muscles.
“Good murder kitty.” Where were those women who taught cats to talk when I needed one? “Happy murder kitty.”
No.
He was not a happy kitty.
He was a fucking strong murder kitty, leaping like we were in some kind of video game and I was the NPC that did stupid shit over and over.
“Fucking hell.” He really was a smart kitty because he’d stopped going for the ropes and had just about sailed right over me to get the large limb I’d tied the trap to. “That was. You’re. Fucking hell.”
One swipe of a paw that seemed much larger up close scarred the branch and I could feel the whole tree vibrate.
How long were his claws?
“Smart murder kitty. Oh dear. Strong murder kitty.” He wouldn’t be able to get me down that way, would he? “Um, go find something taster to eat. Murder kitty go hunt for food. Squirrels good. Human yucky.”
Had I heard any stories of him actually eating people?
He’d been accused of eating everything from pigs to local pets, but I didn’t think any of the stories mentioned people randomly disappearing.
“Go find a pig.” Yes. There were farms with those everywhere and I’d driven past at least three to get far enough out to try to find him. “Bacon good. Human yucky.”
Shit.
How was he jumping that high?
Fuck.
Didn’t he need a break between attempts?
Damn it.
How was he clawing through it so easily?
I couldn’t even pick the right limb to put a trap up in.
“AHHH.”
Ugh.
When had sand gotten so hard?
Even if I survived my murder kitty, my back was never going to be the same.
