Critical Failures by Robert Bevan

Author:Robert Bevan [Bevan, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Arts & Photography, Performing Arts, Humor & Entertainment, Humor, Comedy, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Sword & Sorcery, Literature & Fiction, Humor & Satire, Dark Comedy
ISBN: 9781493728107
Google: dq1NngEACAAJ
Amazon: B0088XPHOK
Publisher: Robert Bevan
Published: 2012-06-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“What happened?” asked Katherine, wincing and shutting her eyes against the sudden burst of sunshine. Birds chirped somewhere above her. That was odd. She felt around for something to support her, and was surprised to grab hold of what felt like a tree. She cautiously opened her eyes and saw that she was, in fact, holding onto a tree. “Where am I?” she whispered. She looked around and saw only more trees. She was in a forest. That explained the birds well enough. But why was she in a forest? How did she get here? Why was she holding a sickle? What was that panting sound? She looked down, screamed, and dropped her sickle. A large gray wolf stared back at her with its sloppy pink tongue hanging out.

She tried desperately to scramble up the trunk of the tree. She’d only made it about three feet up when her hand slipped. Her back collided with the soft earth below. She rolled over, grabbed her sickle, and held it threateningly at the wolf, which only continued to stare at her.

Katherine stood up and bolted into the woods. The wolf trotted along behind her. She ran until the thought of running any further was less appealing than the thought of getting ripped apart by a wolf. Finally, she stopped to catch her breath. The wolf stood patiently next to her, not looking the least bit winded for its effort. Her arm instinctively jerked away when it tried to lick her hand, but then she relaxed. If it was going to kill her, it would have done so by now. She scratched under its chin, and it tilted its head back, as if to offer her more chin to scratch.

“Do you know me?” she asked.

The last remnants of her fear evaporated entirely when she saw a man dressed in a comically oversized blue shirt, yellow and blue striped leggings, and a large, red, floppy hat, complete with a giant green feather sticking out of the top, materialize out of thin air about forty feet away from her. She took a protective stance in front of the wolf before she even considered why she was doing it. Her hand, she was surprised to find, was wrapped around the handle of her sickle. Were these the battle reflexes her dad claimed to have developed in Vietnam? How would she have acquired battle reflexes?

Whoever the man was, he didn't appear to have seen Katherine yet. He didn't appear to be able to see at all. He was stumbling around with his eyes closed. Katherine moved closer, keeping close to the trees. She wasn't exactly hiding behind them, but she was keeping the option open. When he finally opened his eyes, Katherine recognized the icy blue shine at once..

“Chaz?” she asked.

“Kat,” answered her boyfriend. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are we? Why are you dressed like Conan the Barbarian?”

“Huh?” said Katherine, and paused for the first time to look at what she was wearing. Her clothes were entirely made of leather.

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