Read Voodoo Children - A Bubba the Monster Hunter Short Story Online
Authors: John Hartness
Tags: #zombie, #redneck, #monster hunter
“
Oh.” He went even paler
than he already was and sat down in the dirt. I watched as a couple
of big fat tears started to well up in his eyes and roll down his
cheeks. Then his skinny bare shoulders started to shake, then he
threw his arms around my legs and he sobbed into my knees. “Please
don’t kill me, mister! I’m too young to die! Please, let me
live!”
I gave him a little kick and got up so I’d be
out of range if he started crying again. “Cut that shit out, you’re
getting snot on my boots. And brains in your hair.” He sniffled,
but straightened up a little. I sat back down.
“
Alright kid, here’s what
we’re going to do. How much cash do you have?”
“
Fifty-five
hundred.”
“
I’m going to give you
fifteen hundred, to get you where you need to be. Then I’m going to
take whatever spell books and magical hoo-ha you’ve got that showed
you how to raise the dead, and I’m going to destroy it. And I’m
going to leave town. And if I ever see or hear of you involved in
anything like this again, I swear I’ll shoot your nuts off. Any
questions?”
“
Why?”
“
Huh?”
“
Why are you going to do
this? I sent zombies to kill you. Sorry about that, by the
way.”
“
Forget about it. I’ve done
stupid things because of women in my time, so I’m
sympathetic.”
“
So you know what it’s like
to be in love.”
“
Not to the point where it
rots my whole brain like it did you, but yeah, I know what it’s
like.” Besides, the Church was paying me five hundred bucks for
every zombie I killed, so I figured I was making some decent bank
on this gig. Just had to get the video footage back to Skeeter and
wait on good old Uncle Joe to send me my check.
I loaded up my gear and headed back to the
truck. I loaded everything up, pulled my axe out of the tree I’d
got it stuck in the night before, and handed the cash to the kid.
He handed over his spellbooks and a funky little dried-up thing
that looked like a chicken’s foot.
“
What’s this?”
“
Blessed chicken foot of the
Baba Yaga. It grants the bearer the ability to cast any spell.
That’s how I was able to do the stuff in the book.”
“
Neat.” I hung it from the
rearview mirror of the pickup next to the little green pine tree
air freshener and my fuzzy dice, then pulled out of the cemetery
and back onto the main road. If I timed my trip back through town
right, I might just make it for the start of the afternoon shift at
the Ride ‘Em Cowboy.
The End
*****
The Black Knight Chronicles
Movie Knight
Black Magic Woman
Other Work
*****
About the Author
John G. Hartness is a recovering theatre geek
who likes loud music, fried pickles and cold beer. He’s been
published or accepted online in several journals including The Dead
Mule School of Southern Literature, cc&d, Deuce Coupe and
Truckin’. He can be found online at
http://www.johnhartness.com
and spends too much time on Twitter, especially after a few drinks.
His first novel,
The Chosen
, is an urban fantasy about
saving the world, snotty archangels, gambling, tattooed street
preachers, immortals with family issues, bar brawls and the
consequences of our decisions. John has been called “the Kevin
Smith of Charlotte,” and fans of Joss Whedon and Jim Butcher should
enjoy his snarky slant on the fantasy genre. Feel free to visit him
online, and if you see him in person, you’re buying the beer.