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FOOLS' DAY SAMPLE CHAPTER

In a normal bar, I would say tip the bartender and people would give me money. Here, I say tip the bartender and someone tries to knock me over.

-John Murphy, Bartender at Bulfinche’s Pub

All the tricksters were paying attention now.

“This is a new one,” said Loki, lifting an ace out of Sun’s cards, while Hermes did the same to him.

“Better get ye eyes checked, ’cause I’m doing fine,”said Paddy. “Now tell me the punch line.”

“Paddy, you don’t understand. I was there when we buried you next to Bulfinche,” said Hex.

Paddy’s face turned red. “Hex, invoking my dear wife’s name in whatever sick joke you’re pulling is going too far. I’ve had enough. Either end the joke or get out.”

“Paddy, it’s no joke. I’m from the future,” said Hex.

“Time traveling? This is grand!” said Sun, “I wish I had thought of it.”

“You will,” said Coyote.

“It’s not a joke, Wukong. It cost me a lot to come back here,” said Hex.

“You live downtown. Subway is only a token,” said Sun.

“So you’re here to save Paddy’s life?” asked Hermes, raising one eyebrow.

“No. Something bigger than that,” said Hex, “I came back to save the world.”

“Gotta give him credit for creativity,” said Rumbles.

“Then go save it,” said Hermes.

“I can’t do it alone. I need help,” said Hex.

“I’ve never heard you admit to something you couldn’t handle, Hex,” I said.

“I’m older, Murphy, and hopefully wiser,” said Hex.

“More like a wiseass,” said Paddy.

“I don’t know,” chimed in Kyna, “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“I believe him as well,” said Loki.

“You just want to get outside. You’ve been chained to those rocks for too long,” said Sun. Loki shrugged his shoulders.

“Fresh air and sunlight would be... nice,” replied Loki.

“Oh, come on,” said Pan, “You’ve come back in time? Right and I’m a virgin.” Fred cringed at his father’s choice of phrase. “What did you use? A time machine?”

“No. With some help, I managed to send my consciousness back to the me of now,” said Hex.

“Hex, now you’re insulting my intelligence,” said Paddy, “I know ye well enough to know ye keep wards up to protect yourself against mystic attack. You’re obsessive about it. How could ye get past those wards?”

“Simple. I couldn’t,” said Hex.

“Oh good. Now everything makes sense,” said Coyote.

“I had to wait until the wards were no longer functioning, here in the bar.”

“But magic doesn’t work here,” I pointed out.

“True, but there is a spilt second walking in the doorway where the wards were weakened. I knew what wards I had set and could bypass them before the null zone hit. Inside Bulfinche’s, the wards couldn’t kick in to boot me out.”

“Let me guess. To help you save the world, you need us to go somewhere with you?” said Pan.

“Yes.”

“I’m willing to go,” said Loki, “It doesn’t matter where. Like the monkey said, I don’t get out much anymore.”

“And once we get there, what happens to us? Acid wash dissolves our clothes? Potion to shrink us down to the size of ants? A spell changes us to frogs?” asked Pan.

“Besides, if the world is destroyed, what’s the big loss?” added Coyote, sarcastically. “Not like you two-leggers have done any good redecorating the place. I liked it better au natural.”

“The world isn’t going to be destroyed. It’s going to be changed into a nightmare land.”

“Sounds like New York City to me,” said Coyote.

“This isn’t a joke!” shouted Hex.

“Right,” said Sun, mockingly. “We believe you.”

“Paddy, you have to believe me,” pleaded Hex. It was out of character. Hex never pleaded, he was always in control. It was one of his more annoying traits.

“There is nothing you can do to convince us,” said Pan.

Hex looked around and shook his head as if he was disgusted with the lot of us. Slowly, some of his usual demeanor and attitude seeped back into him. A grin slid over his face.

“Yes, there is. Paddy, what I am saying is true. I give you my word. I promise you I am telling the truth,” said Hex, looking into Paddy’s eyes.

“Like that’s going to work,” said Sun.

“Nice try,” said Pan, “You must think we’re idiots.”

Hex was back to being himself. “You are, but that doesn’t enter into this.”

Pan stuck his tongue out. “Give it up.”

“No,” said Paddy. “I believe him.”

“What!?” said Sun and Pan in unison.

“Have you lost what passes for your mind, Moran?” said Pan, “He’s setting us up.”

“Hex gave his word and made a promise. I’ve never known him to break either and he wouldn’t start now for the sake of a joke. Hex is telling the truth,” said Paddy.

“How can you be sure?” asked Pan.

“I just am. And if he’s pulling a fast one, he’s banned from the bar for life. Fair enough, Daniel James Robinson?” asked Paddy, using Hex’s given name.

“That’s easy enough to agree to. If we don’t stop this, Bulfinche’s will be destroyed in less than three years,” said Hex.

“Maybe you’d better start at the beginning. What’s going on?” asked Paddy.

“Later today, an army from Faerie will attack a BMDO installation in the 55th Wing,” said Hex.

“Translation time, Hex. What the heck is BMDO and the 55th Wing? Something from a mutant bird?” I asked.

“Hardly. BMDO is an acronym for Ballistic Missile Defense Organization. A Wing is a loosely grouped missile cluster. The missiles are kept underground in scattered silos. The missiles in the 55th Wing are deployed in a fan 30 and 60 miles north of Little Rock, Arkansas. Most of the silos are disguised as farmland. The one Mab hits is at the nerve center of the 55th Wing and is an actual Air Force Base.”

“Mab?” said Hermes, looked over at Kyna.

“So?” asked Pan.

“Using a sleep potion, they will knock out all the personnel on the base. Then they will steal a 40-foot Trident nuclear missile and take it back with them to Faerie,” said Hex.

“That’s not good,” I said.

“That’s an understatement. They screw up. They don’t put everyone on the base to sleep. One quick-thinking Air Force captain gets a gas mask on and trails the army back to Faerie. He marks off the no-longer-hidden entrance and reports back to his superiors. Somehow he gets them to believe him. The military sends a patrol in to do recon and discover there’s another land with a window into the heart of America. The people in this land have a nuclear weapon and the access to use it on the American heartland. Realizing they have a tactical advantage—namely that the Sidhe have no idea that the military is aware of their existence—the powers that be decide that, instead of opening up a dialogue, the best option is a first strike. The US military nukes Faerie.”

“Damn,” said Paddy. Faerie is the boss’ homeland.

“The missiles kill thousands, but that’s not the worst of it. The radiation and fallout warp and twist Faerie’s natural magic until it becomes something dark and twisted.”

“Nuclear Magic,” I say.

“That’s what we called it. Instead of killing, it mutates. Then the Nuclear Magic fallout starts leaking out onto Earth, through the doorways that lead to Faerie. England, Ireland and Scotland are hit worst, followed by Africa, Australia, parts of Europe and the Untied States, particularly one favorite drinking spot.”

“Bulfinche’s,” said Paddy, softly.

“Exactly,” said Hex. The lower level of our parking garage is a nexus, where there are several doorways into the otherworlds, Faerie among them.

“Magic returns to the Earth but in a twisted form. The creatures of night and nightmare become stronger, new forms of monsters are created. The Nuclear Magic taints Earth’s ley lines and other sources of power, including that which sustains the gods. Many divinities are driven mad.

“Faerie is turned into a wasteland, unable to sustain life. Tens of thousands of refugees pour out through the doorways onto Earth. People blame the Faerie folk for what’s happened, so they aren’t exactly made to feel welcome. Many are herded into concentration camps. Paddy, you and the gang at Bulfinche’s hide many of the refugees and protect them, starting a new underground railroad.” Makes sense. Paddy worked on the original. “Problem is, the government doesn’t like that. They also know that there is an opening to Faerie under the building. They show up outside Bulfinche’s with an entire armored division of tanks and helicopters, plus a battalion of soldiers. They threaten to flatten the place unless you turn over the refugees.”

“They can threaten all they like. Their tanks and explosives couldn’t even break the windows,” said Paddy, smugly.

“Right now, that’s true, but you are forgetting something. Because you bought the place with your pot of gold, Faerie gold I might add, a core part of the magic that sustains Bulfinche’s comes from Faerie. With Faerie dying and the Nuclear Magic taking its place, Bulfinche’s power becomes only a fraction of what it is today.”

“Meaning their weapons could destroy me home,” said Paddy.

“Yes. Most of the staff and regulars are not here that day and the troops cut the phone lines and block any transmissions out. Inside the building you are hiding over five hundred refugees. It’s a stand-off for a while. You’re able to ward off everything they throw at you, but the explosions destroy the surrounding buildings. Defense uses too much of your power. You know it’s only a matter of time before an attack gets through. You make a deal with Pluto to hide the refugees in Hades. Problem is getting them down to the bottom of the parking garage without the military catching on. You volunteer yourself to the officer in charge, Colonel Redmond, as a peace offering, with the understanding that he will let the refugees go free. You don’t believe a word of it, but decide it’s the only way to buy more time. You make sure everyone has a coin to pay Charon for the ferry ride and send the first wave out.

“You’re right about the colonel. No sooner does he have you outside, than he starts bombing again. Outside the bar you’re even weaker, but you’re far from powerless. You stop the attack and get Colonel Redmond’s throat in your hands. Even then you stick to your belief that all life is sacred and refuse to kill him. I wish you had. One of Redmond’s subordinates puts an iron bullet in your shoulder. You can’t concentrate past the pain, so when the colonel launches the next wave, some missiles get through. Almost all of the second wave do, and the third wave leveled all fifteen stories of Bulfinche’s Pub, with one hundred twenty of the Gentry refugees still inside. Your gambit saves more than three hundred lives. Fifteen of the hundred twenty in the rubble survive.

“At that moment you don’t care. Colonel Redmond has destroyed everything you had built, and in a blind rage you rush at him. Feeling the death throbs of Bulfinche’s miles away, I body slide to the rumble, too late to be any good. I get there just in time to see him put six iron bullets into your head. I lose it and attack him. Unfortunately for me, nobody has asked for my help, so using magic against him isn’t an option. I try to beat Redmond’s face to a bloody pulp. Five soldiers pull me off before I can do any real damage. They have a dark mage who opens a wormhole for her and Redmond to escape through.

“Redmond could run, but he couldn’t hide forever. Someone asked me to avenge you Paddy, freeing me up to use magic.”

“Who asked?” asked Coyote.

“Actually, Coyote, it was you,” Hex replied.

“I trust you succeeded that time,” said Coyote.

“You better believe it. I found Redmond again and that time I killed the bastard.”

“Good,” said Coyote, stopping to groom his leg with his tongue. Paddy opened his mouth to give his usual speech about all life being scared, but thought better of it.

“Whose army stole the first nuke?” asked Hermes.

“Mab.”

“Mom?” said Kyna. This is one of those family tree things again. In the mid-sixties Mab—who was a Queen of one of the many kingdoms of Faerie—had been dethroned and exiled. She sought refuge and asylum with Paddy. Mab and Hermes fell in love or, at the very least, lust. The end result was Kyna. When the opportunity came to reclaim her kingdom, Mab spilt, leaving Kyna and Hermes behind. In all fairness, she did ask Hermes to fight by her side, but he declined, not wanting to live the life of a guerilla, no disrespect to Sun’s relations. Kyna was raised by Hermes with the aid of the rest of the crew here at Bulfinche’s.

“Yep. She plans to threaten Titiana and Oberon with it, in an effort to expand her newly reclaimed kingdom,” said Hex.

“Oh joy,” said Coyote. “Damn two-leggers and things that go boom.”

“So we have to stop her,” said Kyna.

“Mab’s no dummy. We are going to have to be careful,” said Hermes.

“It’s not like Mab would hurt her own daughter,” I said. My tenure as bartender stated long after Mab left. I knew her by reputation only. Hermes and Kyna gave each other a sad look. Paddy suddenly found the tops of his shoes to be very interesting. Nobody else spoke up. “Would she?”

“Murph,” said Hermes, “soon after Mab left me to reclaim her kingdom, she made a deal with a neighboring kingdom for troops. I don’t have time to go into the details, but suffice it to say they required a hostage as a sign of good faith. Mab kidnapped a four-year-old Kyna and used her own daughter as the hostage. She set up no safeguards to make sure Kyna would not be hurt.”

“Was she?” I asked.

“Almost,” said Kyna, a sad gleam in her eye.

“Is Mab evil?” I asked.

“Mab is dangerous. She does what she thinks is best for her, without regard for consequences,” said Paddy.

“She’s a politician,” said Coyote. “What do you expect?”

Hex plopped down in a chair and put his feet up on the table. “We don’t have a lot of time. We have to get to Arkansas.”

“We’re going to need some help. I’ll call in some friends,” said Paddy, whipping out his flip-top cellular phone. “Murphy, grab a phone and help me out.”

“You got it, boss,” I said. Hex had a cell phone and made some calls of his own.

Hermes moved toward the door behind the bar. “I have a little something upstairs that may help us out.” He left up the stairs.

Normally at Bulfinche’s Pub, when Paddy calls in his friends, people and gods came running. Today we were having a problem of monumental proportions. Almost nobody was taking our phone calls. I could hear Paddy yelling at Hercules over the phone.

“Get yer muscle-bound butt back here now!” yelled Paddy. “This is an emergency.”

The headset volume was high enough that I could here our bouncer’s reply.

“Sorry, Paddy. There’s nothing you can say to get me any where near that place today. I’m no dummy. What’s the scam?”

“No scam,” said Paddy. “I’m serious.”

“Of course you are, boss. I’m going to go now.”

“Hercules, don’t hang up...”

“Why? I’m not staying on long enough to let you trace this call. See you in two days,” said Hercules. The click resonated in the silent receiver.

Everybody who was home hung up as soon as they heard my voice. Most knew where I was and nobody wanted to be a victim of any of the tricksters. Most of my calls went something like this.

“Hello?” said Lucas Wilson. Lucas was a blood junkie, a vampyre. He had successfully resisted his cravings and sworn off human blood, surviving on that of animals. Lucas can survive out in sunlight for brief periods with a 199 sunscreen lotion. He is also a computer programer and hacker supreme. He had helped install several government systems and had helped us take control of a Star Wars satellite once. Sadly, the orbital lasers would be useless to us in this scenario, but Lucus’ skills could still be helpful.

“Lucas, this is Murphy,” I said.

“I thought you were stuck at the bar today,” Lucas said.

“I am.”

“Do you need an ambulance?”

“No,” I said.

“Good. Bye.” Lucas hung up.

Hex was having the same trouble with his friends and associates.

“Looks like you guys have pulled so many pranks over the years that on Fools’ Day, no one wants any part of you,” I said.

“We’ll have to go it alone,” said Hex.

“The nine of us against an army? Them’s great odds,” said Pan sarcastically.

“We can do this,” said Sun. “We can outsmart anybody.”

“That’s right. Nobody’s ever made a monkey out of you,” said Coyote.

“This can be done,” said Loki, coming back to life. Grabbing a pen, he began writing on the back of a placemat. “We just need plans of the base and records of personnel. We already know several things. We know what they are planning. The Sidhe are vulnerable to iron. We can assume that Shapelings have infiltrated the base. If we use all that right, we can take them out.”

“We can do it without killing anyone,” said Paddy.

“Moran, they are at war. They won’t be playing games. Neither should we,” said Loki.

“Think of it as a challenge then,” Paddy said with a mischievous wink. “That goes for you too, Hex.”

“I agree with Loki, Paddy. You haven’t seen what is going to happen. I have. Countless more lives will be lost,” said Hex.

“We can do this without bloodshed,” said Paddy. “I want your word on that Daniel James.”

“I can’t give it. I will try my best,” said Hex.

Paddy nodded. “Now we just have to figure out a way to get intelligence on the base.”

“I may have that one covered,” said Hermes, walking back into the bar with a naked man tossed over his shoulder.

“What’s this?” asked Paddy.

“General Richard Swanson,” said Hermes.

“The general from your prank last year?” asked Sun.

“The same. He got demoted to UFO patrol.”

“That’s fine and good, but what is he doing in the upstairs of my bar?” asked Paddy.

“He thinks he’s been abducted by a UFO,” said Hermes, putting Swanson on a table, then tying his limbs to the table legs.

“That explains everything. Thanks so much,” said Paddy. “Do you have to do that here?”

“Yes. It’s crucial,” said Hermes, smiling.

“So we can get the base layout, security clearances and such from him,” said Kyna.

“Exactly, daughter dear. Up until last year, he was in charge of it all.”

“Why would he betray his country just because you ask him?” asked Pan.

“It wouldn’t be the first time this man betrayed his country. Watch and learn,” said Hermes, putting on the rubber Grey alien mask. “Loki, you want in on this?”

“Sure. Moran?” asked Loki. Among Loki’s powers is the ability to shape shift. Magic, curses and the like don’t work inside the bar without Paddy’s say-so; therefore, Loki needed permission.

Paddy shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Sure.”

Loki’s features liquified and molded, all the while glowing. It was all over in a second and the end result was a seven foot tall “alien” with grey skin, a big head and large eyes. Loki had even morphed himself some long flowing silver robes.

Rumbles moved to my side. As used as we are to the notion that, in Bulfinche’s, gods drink among us, it can be a little frightening to see their powers at work. “We have a kidnapped US Air Force general hogtied naked to a table and nobody has even thought to lock the door.” Actually, the door is almost never locked. Boss says we never know when somebody might need help, but that’s besides the point. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

The pugilistic clown didn’t have to wait long. Hermes waved something under Swanson’s nose and the general slowly inched his way back toward consciousness.

“Murphy, come here and hold this,” said Hermes, handing me a very powerful flashlight. “Keep it shining in his eyes.”

“You got it,” I said, putting in an extra interpretation of my own.

“Murphy, stop the finger shadows,” said Hermes.

“Then give me back my wallet,” I said. I hadn’t even checked to see if it was missing, but I knew Hermes. He handed it back without a word.

Swanson’s eyes opened, his pupils shrinking against the light. He quickly shut his eyes and twisted his head away in a attempt to reclaim darkness. From what Hermes told us last year, darkness had already claimed the general long ago. While he was a colonel in Vietnam, he showed initiative. That in and of itself was no crime, but when initiative involved the wholesale slaughtering of a village of unarmed civilians, including women and children, his offense becomes clear. Then to keep his deeds hidden, he sent the only two men who could prove his guilt on a suicide mission.

Unluckily for Swanson, one survived his plane crash and crossed over to Cambodia, where he married and had kids. A reporter in that village on an unrelated story spoke to the former pilot and got the full story, but his paper wouldn’t print it unless the reporter revealed the man’s name and location. The reporter knew that if that happened, Swanson would arrange for the pilot to die again. The pilot was happy and had a family so the reporter decided to leave well enough alone.

Knowing that Swanson was going unpunished was weighing heavily on the reporter’s sense of justice. A year and a bit ago, he unloaded the story to us over a few glasses of beer. Hermes told him he would that care of it.

Hermes wiped out Swanson’s personal fortune, leaving him penniless, with only his military pay. He humiliated him professionally with the alien invasion scam at NORAD in hopes that he would be booted out. Swanson had too many friends in high places, so he just got demoted. Meanwhile, Hermes has been slowly making Swanson’s life a living hell, culminating in what was happening here today.

“Awaken, Dick Swanson,” commanded Hermes.

“Leave me alone. Please,” begged Swanson, trying to shut out the light I was shining in his eyes.

“Open your eyes and look at me when I speak to you,” ordered Hermes. Swanson obeyed and was greeted with the sight of two aliens.

“Aaah!” screamed Swanson.

“Be silent, Earthling,” said Hermes. “You have information we need.”

“I won’t tell you anything.”

“Oh yes, you will. We have ways of making you talk,” promised Hermes.

“How?” asked Swanson but he was answered with silence. “How?” he said louder but still no one replied. “Not an anal probe? It’s not an anal probe, is it?”

The alien morphed Loki looked at the alien disguised Hermes. Hermes nodded. Loki put his alien hand in front of Swanson’s face and I focused the light on it. The general’s eye’s fixated on the hand.

“Anal probe?” Loki asked. He was not as up on current culture as he might like and was confused as to the significance but was able to run with it. “Not yet. We have other ways to try first.”

“Like what?”

In response, Loki’s hand transformed in an instant to fingers with six inch claws which he slowly raked up and down the general’s bare torso. Swanson’s eyes closed in fearful anticipation, but the claws only scratched hard enough to raise lines on the skin, not break it.

“I have been anxious to examine a human from the inside. You would make an excellent subject,” bluffed Loki. At least I hoped he was buffing. He was a god of evil years ago, but he had theoretically reformed. Paddy always tries to give the benefit of the doubt and he’s always been right as far as I know, but the odds demand that he has to be wrong sometime. “I think I will begin with the digestive track, then remove the external reproductive organs.”

The general was no dummy and was rather attached to his family jewels. Few men, especially the tied up, naked kind, could stand up to that type of threat. I admit it was a tad harsh, but it got results.

“I’ll tell you anything you want! Just don’t hurt me,” begged Swanson.

Coyote jumped up on the side of the table and stood over the general’s face, my flashlight putting a halo behind his head. “We need to know everything you do about the command center for the 55th Wing.”

“That’s a missile base. You’re going after our nukes!” said Swanson, turning to look Coyote right in the snout. “Oh my God! A talking mutt!”

“I’m not a mutt,” said Coyote, annoyed. “I have a pedigree.”

“Please don’t put my brain in a dog. Please!” pleaded Swanson, tears streaming down his face.

“Don’t worry. You have to have a brain to qualify for our transplant program,” said Sun, leaning over so Swanson could get a good look at his face.

“A talking monkey! What kind of godless experiments are you doing up here?”

“Godless? I resemble that remark,” said Sun, stealing my line.

“Enough!” shouted Loki. “Give us the information or feel our wrath.”

Swanson told us everything. Layout, passwords, access codes, where his wife hid her jewelry and anything else we asked.

“I’ve told you everything I know. What are you going to do to me?” asked Swanson. He got no answer. “Tell me. Please? You’re not going to give me an anal probe are you?”

Kyna chimed in. “Why, yes we are.” She reached out and pinched the general’s flabby butt. Swanson let out a shriek and passed out.

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