Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer, Jamie Ott [great novels to read .txt] 📗

clothes since he got there; it was a relief to get some jeans that didn’t have to be tied up with rope.

By the time they reached the bath section, Uncle Bally had put away his hand gun and was helping Jacko clear out as many towels and cloths as they could.

He almost leapt for joy at the sight of the bed section. Together, they heaved a queen sized mattress and box springs out and into the back of the truck.

In the camping section, Jacko gathered as many sleeping bags as he could when, from behind, he heard a loud crunch-like noise.

Swiftly, he turned.

His uncle was lying on the ground. Standing before him, with a .22 rifle, was a dark haired man with an overgrown beard.

“What did you do that for? We just need some supplies and we’ll go.”

“This is our mall,” said the vagrant. “You’ll go now, or else.”

He’d never been much of a fighter, but since he’d been to the fig orchard and had his blessing, he had senses of what to do in dangerous situations. Now that he understood about the fountain of youth, it made sense that he could’ve been drawing on lessons learned in a past life. So when something moved behind him, rather than feel fear as most would, he felt relief.

He turned his head just slightly. Standing behind him was a woman with unkempt hair. She had a baseball bat in her hand.

Fast, Jacko yanked the bat away, and then swung the handle around, at the barrel of the gun. Right as the handle hit it, he leapt right.

Startled by his actions, the man, accidentally, fired the weapon. The bullet missed Jacko’s side by inches.

Without hesitation, he swung the bat, whacking the man on his temple. He fell to the ground. Jacko picked up the gun and aimed it at him.

Behind him came a moaning sound.

“Uncle Bally, are you okay?” he asked, without turning his eyes away from the fallen man.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

While holding his head, the man rolled into a sitting position. His eyes went from squinted with pain to wide and quivering.

“You made me kill her!” he shouted.

Foolishly, Jacko turned his head to see the woman. As he did this, the man charged him.

He pulled the trigger, shooting the man in the heart.

The man’s eyes bugged out as the force of the bullet pushed his midriff back, and then he dropped to the ground.

For a moment, Jacko was motionless, watching the expression that lingered on the dead man’s face.

Grabbing onto the shelf, Bally pulled himself up.

“It’s okay, Jacko.”

“It’s not okay.”

“You did what you had to. This is the sort of thing that happens when law doesn’t exist.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I was just scared, and I reacted.”

He pulled a tee shirt from the nearby rack and pressed it to the back of his head, which was bleeding copiously.

“Look, I know you feel bad but we gotta go. There might be more than just these two. Can you pull it together, long enough for us to get out of here?”

Uncle Bally swayed as he struggled to stay upright.

Jacko put his arm under his shoulder and heaved him forward.

Uncle Bally was right. The moment they stepped outside, it was to see a handful of men pilfering the old pickup.

Two, who had rifles, pointed them immediately.

Uncle Bally tried to pull his hand gun, but he’d lost his coordination. His arm merely flopped around and he almost fell.

Carefully, he set him on the ground. “Don’t worry, I got this,” he whispered. “I don’t want you, further, injuring yourself.”

One of the men, long and tired looking, walked around to face him and said, “Is this your truck?”

“What do you think?”

“Better get walking if you don’t wanna get dead,” the guy said, pointing to the road. “We’re taking everything.”

Jacko punched him throat, leaned into him and yanked the back of his opposite arm, forcing him to turn into a chokehold.

“You got two minutes to put everything back, and then get out of here.”

“If you don’t want your friend to get shot,” said a man with bloodshot eyes, “you’ll let him go, now!”

Jacko, instantly, tightened his hold on the man’s neck. A sound like a belching drain issued from his throat. The look on the man’s face must have been distorted as he struggled for breath, as suddenly, one of them said, “Alright, alright, we’ll put the stuff back. Just loosen your grip, there. Don’t hurt our buddy.”

Uncle Bally pushed himself off the ground with gun in hand.

When they’d put everything back, they carefully walked to their sides of the truck.

“Get inside, Jacko. I got my gun on ‘em,” he said, once he’d settled into the driver’s seat and closed his door.

Jacko opened the passenger door and pushed his hostage away from him. Just as he was about to get inside the truck, they fired several shots at them.

His nerves already thoroughly frayed, he reacted, once more, without real intention.

He raised his hand and the bullets reversed direction.

At that moment, the Earth rumbled and quaked. Blinding light shined down from the sky, making him duck and cover. Finally, there was a deafening sound of an explosion.

After a few moments, as the Earth continued quaking, Jacko dared to look up. Every cloud in the sky had been illuminated, making them look like bright white celestial seas. For a moment, it got really hot.

A voice from the clouds that vibrated to the core of his being said, “It has begun!”

And then the light withdrew, leaving them, once again, in the cool semi darkness of the charcoal gray sky.

“Come on, get in!” shouted Bally.

But just as he pulled the lever on the truck door, he saw that one of the men lay on the hood of their truck, bleeding to death. All the other men had fallen as well.

Then it made sense: what had begun was the war. His sojourn was over because he’d proven himself battle worthy.

“Jacko, what are you doing?”

As they made their way home, he watched the sky. Colorful beams of light flew across the atmosphere, and then exploded into bits of light that trickled out.

Uncle Bally was completely oblivious.

“How’s your head?”

“Throbs but I’ll be alright.”

They rode up the right side of the driveway. Jacko held him all the way to the door, and then fished the keys from Uncle Bally’s denim pocket.

He pushed the door inward, and it banged against the wall. Then he tried to shoulder him into the living room, but he wouldn’t move.

“What’s wrong?”

Rage distorted his face.

Jacko turned his head and saw what infuriated him.

The couch had been destroyed. Foam shredding blanketed the entire floor, and polluted the air with particles, giving the room a hazy atmosphere.

Uncle Bally pulled the gun from his hip again.

Gently, they crossed the threshold. Looking left and right, and seeing no one, they proceeded into the kitchen.

Jacko should have known.

The contents of pot roast, from the prior evening, lay on the floor; the meat gone, and the potatoes smeared all over. An entire loaf of bread was ripped to shreds and tossed about.

There, wings beating wildly, and hurling pieces of frozen fish at each other were the two bat babies.

Joe was covered in mustard, and Larry was glistening wet with some substance that dripped onto the floor.

Uncle Bally shrieked and took aim with his gun.

“No!” shouted Jacko, pushing his arm down. “It’s okay!”

He set Uncle Bally in the chair. Then he looked at the bats who stared, unfazed, back at him.

“You, two, are in BIG trouble!”

Jacko knew they understood him because their wings slowed their beats, making them bounce further up and down in the air.

“Now, you got ten minutes to get this mess cleaned up, or I’ll cage you!”

They turned to each other and spoke. Larry pointed his finger, and Joe went and got the broom and started sweeping it with his little arms.

“Don’t you guys have magic to clean this mess up with?”

They didn’t answer.

Larry went back to the refrigerator and pulled out the pound of freshly sliced chicken meat.

“Get out of there, Larry! You help him clean, now, or I swear your punishment will be worse!”

Larry dropped the bag and got the rag that was in the sink. He set to wiping the floor after Joe’s broom strokes.

“I’m gonna take my uncle to rest. When I get back, if you guys are messing around at all, I’ll bind you so that you can’t even blink.”

He bent over and heaved Uncle Bally out of the chair. They made their way to his bedroom where he laid down.

“What were those things?”

“They’re,” he paused, wondering how much he should tell him. “Uh, they’re my pets. They’re harmless.”

“Enough with the bull, now out with the truth.”

His uncle was a bit redneck, but he could always tell when someone was lying. Jacko figured he might as well test a bit of the truth on him, and see how he handled it.

“You won’t believe me, but here it goes,” he sighed. “They’re demons but not in the bad biblical sense. They’re just another species, kind of like dogs or cats, except they have our level of intelligence. And they’re pretty much harmless.”

Although Uncle Bally said nothing, Jacko saw disbelief in his eyes.

“Well, I’d better go check on them. They may be harmless, but as you’ve seen, they can be mischievous. Can I get you anything?”

“Did you bring them here?”

Such a plain question surprised him.

“You believe me, then?”

He stared, silently.

“I brought them because they were hungry.”

Uncle Bally’s lip curled and his eyebrows furrowed down.

“Okay, okay,” he said, putting up his hand in a please stop motion. He could tell his uncle was about to snap. “I brought them because I didn’t want them telling others that I’m here.”

“Who’s after you?”

Jacko merely stood there.

“Are you gonna answer my question, or am I gonna have to shoot it out of you?”

He just didn’t know how to tell him everything. Even more importantly, he didn’t want his uncle to look at him differently. He was a judgmental type.

Uncle Bally must have seen the wheels turning in his head, because he sighed and asked, “It’s not drugs or money they’re after, is it?”

“No, I swear that’s not it. Look, if I tell you, you won’t believe me. You’ll think I’m crazy or evil.”

“Alright, so what do we do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s all on me. I’ll know what to do when the time is right; that’s what they said.”

“Who said?” he asked strongly.

“Some friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yes.”

Uncle Bally looked like he wanted to pressure him for details but thought better of it. Then he asked, “Why is ‘it’, as you say, on you?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“How am I supposed to help you, if you won’t explain?”

“I gave you a bit of truth just now. I don’t want to tell you anymore. Not just yet, but I’ll give this much: there are other species out there, like those in the kitchen. They’re bigger, meaner, and more dangerous than you can imagine.”

He waited for Uncle Bally to reply, but he only looked at him a moment, and then said, “Well, Jacko, I need some rest. My head’s killing me. Shut the door on your way out.”

He rolled over onto his side.

Back in the kitchen, Joe and Larry were levitating around the pile of food they’d swept into the center of the floor, eating and chatting.

“Why do you keep tossing the potatoes? They’re quite good. Try them.”

Larry pigeon talked in a demanding manner to Joe. He, then, picked up a quarter size piece of a potato and stuck his fang in it, then pulled out. The soft whiteness crumbled slightly in his hand, and then he licked it with his tongue. Deciding to go for it, he plopped the whole piece in his mouth and chewed. As he did this, his pointed ear tips poked up and down, repeatedly. He plunged both hands in and started shoving as much into his mouth as he possibly could; Larry followed suit.

Jacko walked across the kitchen