“We don’t got this!” Camden bellowed.

“We definitely don’t got this!”

With an uncanny grace, he side-stepped one of the Chort bikers. There was real panic in his big brown eyes as the dust from the crushed rock settled onto his fur. “I hit it with the bat!”

“You said the bat would work!” Camden shouted, as he held the splintered pink bat in his oversized hands. For some unknown reason, the damn fool hit the Chort, the Goat headed Chort, on the head with the wooden Louisville slugger.

The plan had been simple enough. We sneak up and take down the Chort, unloading the van. Once he was down, we’d move on the others. Hopefully, we’d take another one by surprise before the last two joined the fight. It wasn’t exactly going as planned.

“Don’t freaking panic! You’re a sasquatch, one the mightiest of warrior tribes!” I yelled back, but I was yelling at Camden’s back as he raced around the corner to make some space between himself and the pissed off Chort.

Mogwai was less timid and instead of merely burning the goat, she slammed the nozzle into its back and yelled, “Chuck? Hey, Chuck it that’s you. I just wanted to say that I respect your people, but you smell like old mushroom and dust,” as the super-heated tip sizzled into the Chort’s flank.

The Chort screamed like, well a goat, and skipped sideways several steps. As he skipped, he rose and prepared to crash down on Mog like a mountain goat defending more than his herd.

“Okay, new plan,” I groaned and took advantage of the upright position of the Chort and fired a .45 long colt round into his chest. Red blossomed in a violent contrast to his light hair, and splashed inky and thick against the stone wall.

Camden stuck his head around the building, still holding the bat, his eyes freezing on the blood as it leaked down the rocky surface.

“I thought this was supposed to be a stealthy approach!” Camden stage whispered loud enough for everyone within twenty miles to hear. Not that it mattered considering the screaming goat and my gun shot, but you get the idea.

The other three Chort were already moving, all three keeping the van between themselves and the most obvious threat, me. But like everything, the most obvious threat isn’t always the only threat.

“Too late now!” Mogwai declared in a sing-song voice. She skipped forward and opened up the nozzle on her ditch torch, pointing it right into the face of another Chort as it raced out of the darkness.

You might think a goat scream sounds funny and nearly human when you see it on TV, but in real time under agony it’s bone chilling. It’s a forlorn, mournful sound, like the goat knows it’s doomed and there is nothing it can do.

I felt this wave of, like, guilt sweep over me, then the Chort beside it brought down its head and slammed it into Mogwai, sending her flying off into the grass. “You mother…”

Pressing my back to the rear doors of the van, I scooted to the corner and peaked around. The goat that Mog had set on fire was still screaming and the other was trying hard to get him put out. The last one was on his way toward Mogwai, with death in his eyes, but he had no idea I was waiting in ambush. I guess he forgot about the girl with a gun.

Right about then would the absolute perfect time for a killer theme phrase, and I sincerely wish I was cool like that. I’m not, so instead I said something like, “Gah! Stupid goat!” and dumped a round into it, and another one into the one helping his burned partner.

The Chort went down hard and forever, and I was about to feel some kind of way about it when something slammed into my side hard enough to make me think Camden was driving Mogwai’s Jeep.

The air went out of me and I went ass over tits across the grass. Heck, I am pretty sure I could identify the Kentucky bluegrass in that lawn by taste by the time I landed.

“Chort, actually,” said a large Chort with pure, deeply black fur on his face, contrasted with white at the crown of his head and running down both sides of his nose.

It reminded me at once of the demon image of Baphomet; you know from all the pagan devil stuff on Facebook. Anyway, as he stood to his full height, I swear to God he blew steam out of his nostrils, and I wasn’t sure things were going our way.

I was all twisted up, scared, hurting, and holy hell he’d hit me hard enough to make me rethink my stance on religion. Yeah, I might have peed a little at that point.

“He looks like a Skunk!” Mogwai said as she pulled herself to her feet and it was like her words broke whatever spell he’d had on me. The now broken ditch torch lay crumpled a few feet away, and at some point she’d put on her combat claws before getting in the perfect miniature Wolverine from the X-Men stance.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The Chort turned his nearly gold eyes, with those creepy rectangular pupils, just a little, and I knew he would see both of us at once. What made him even more creepy was the staff he held with a clearly human skull on the end, and of course the chanting wasn’t hurting his creepy vibe either.

Somewhere in the melee, The Judge had been knocked out of my hand, so gods knew where that was, so I was pretty defenseless.

From the corner of the building Camden yelled, “Chort Witch Doctor! Level four, I’ll get the Jeep!” and it was just the distraction I needed to get back on my feet.

Mogwai took that moment to attack. She flew at the Chort witch doctor with her claws out, but the Chort Witch Doctor wasn’t surprised.

Without even interrupting his chanting, he swung his staff at her, forcing Mogwai to skip back, but she Mog was far from through. With a growl, she spun to the right and go inside his guard, then raked his sides with his claws in two fast strikes.

The Witch Doctor shied away from the attacks, but his chanting had done its business. Dramatically, the eyes of the skull started to glow.

“BRRARRRRAAAHHHHH!” he bleated in a scream that made his throat sound like it was tearing apart, and a lance of sickly yellow light nearly took Mog’s legs out from under her.

Diving to the left Mogwai managed to miss the full impact of the blow. Where the wizard laser touched was scored and ruined, and Mogwai wasn’t quick to get back to her feet.

Then the most un-nerving thing happened, the witch doctor actually started to laugh. “It seems the fear everyone had over The Bounty Hunter and her crew was overblown. One level two bounty hunter, a cowardly skunk ape, and a shrimp,” he said with contempt nearly dripping off each word, “but I think I’ll take all of your pathetic little heads back, to hell with the incentive for keeping you alive!” he bleated.

Looking a little green around the gills from the shock, Mog scooted back, her leg limp, blistered and cracked.

“I don’t give a little head to anyone!” Mogwai quipped and I nearly barked out a laugh, as I turned my focus to the ground and started feeling around for The Judge.

Where Mog had raked its flesh, blood leaked down to small spikes of fur where blood dripped onto the ground. But despite the wounds, the Chort didn’t seem all that concerned. Looming over her, the witch doctor raised his staff, the eyes of the skull still glowing, reading to strike Mogwai down.

Out of the darkness flood lights flashed on, and Mogwai’s jeep roared as it broke into the clearing and slammed into the oversized Chort.

“Yes!” I screamed, but even as I celebrated the Chort was back on its feet and glowering at Cam. “The coward returns,” he said and stomped toward Mogwai once more, clearly, she’d pissed him off more than being hit by a Jeep.

Cam wasn’t done. Leaping out of the jeep he rushed the goat shaman and hit him like a linebacker from Old Miss, while screaming, “ I’m no coward, I’m from a warrior tribe!”

“Cam!” Mog yelled and struggled to get up. My search for The Judge was growing more frantic when I saw the metal shin dully in the bluish halogen light. It had flown a good twenty feet away, and I scrambled to get to it, but the fight between the Sasquatch and the Chort was intense.

Cam was in the full mount position, going for a good old ground and pound, like kids would do on the playground. But the Chort wasn’t having it, and merely lowered his chin and let Camden slam his fists against his horns and thick skull as it repositioned its legs. Getting his obviously goat shaped legs under Cam was all it took to get leverage and with a bleat, Cam was sent flying back into the side of the Jeep.

“Not my Jeep!” Mogwai screamed, somehow back on her feet now that her precious jeep was in danger, but the Chort was done playing games. With a hiss of what I think was Latin, then, “ BRRRAAAAHHHHH!”

Another lance of light flashed out, but this one missed Cam completely and nailed the Jeep’s spare tire, causing a thunderous burst of air and fire.

“NO!” Mogwai screamed, as Camden rolled away from the jeep and managed to get back on his feet. “Kill him, Cam! Kill that son of a bitch!”

While all this was going, I’d managed to get my figures around the handle of The Judge and rolled over, “Cam get clear!” I screamed and fired.

The shot went wide, missing the Shaman, and thankfully Mogwai’s Jeep, but it got plenty of attention. The Chort whipped around and aimed his staff at me, “BRRAAAAHHHHH!”

Again, the sickly green lance of power leap out and nearly hit me, but I’d been ready to roll away and managed to avoid the shot and ended up in the prone.

“Stop screaming already! We are trying to be stealthy!” I yelled, while lining up my own shot, I brought the front sight post into alignment and fired. The shot was true, but the Chort had been aiming for me too and the skull on his staff shattered as the bullet slammed into it.

An explosion of light swept over me like I’d been hit by my lightning! Fire raced through my veins, tearing a scream from my lips and leaving me smoking, but the Chort had it worse.

His body made a sickening cracking sound as it slammed into the ground with enough force to break one of his horns off halfway. He was bloodied and wounded, but as he got to his feet, I knew he was a long way from being done.

Snatching a speed loader from my coat, I reloaded The Judge and took a quick glance at Cam and Mog. We weren’t exactly in great shape. Mog was limping toward her Jeep; arms out stretch like a toddler reaching for its mother. Meanwhile Camden lay, his hair scorched and smoking, panting like he’d run a marathon.

The Chort touched his broken horn and glared at me with evil in its disgusting sickly gold eyes, “I’ll find you, bounty hunter! You’re going to pay for this in pain!” he said and swift as hell he dashed off into the darkness.

I fired two more shots, each like the crash of thunder as the trees and branches were illuminated by the flash. Somehow, the damn goat jumped sideways about six feet in two bounces, and kept running.

“Don’t waste your ammo!” Camden yelled and I saw he was getting up at last, “you’re going to need it inside.”

“Inside?” I blurted out and felt my blood run cold at the idea. We had just been through a war and nearly lost, and Camden was still thinking about going inside.

“You’re fine, it was just the spare. I will get you a brand new one, baby,” Mogwai cooed to her jeep.

“I’m afraid to go in too, but I’m more afraid of Cathy, we must get that honey, and that Chort was right. You need to go up in levels, we all do, if we are going to fight these monsters. The only way to get strong is to fight them, and our quest is right there,” Cam pointed to the morgue, but I could see his hand was trembling.

“We don’t have the weapons!” I argued.

Mogwai turned and glared at me from under her brow, and slowly a small, wicked smile touched her lips, “they hurt my baby, now they must die,” she said and lifted her claws to her lips and ran her small pink tongue down the bloody blade.