Chương 166: CDM 3, Chapter 42: Van Shopping

Enforcer McDouglas emailed Megan and me, asking us to come see him first thing in the morning. Other than the one link he sent me regarding Kielar's killer, he didn't respond to any of my other emails, calls, or texts the whole time he'd be gone. Since all of those were CDM-related and about half were specific to the Cold Rollers, I found that pretty frustrating. But he was my boss, so I sat next to Megan in McDouglas' office and waited for him to speak.

"Good work in Punxatawney," he began.

"I'm typically against splitting the party, but that was a smart judgment call given the circumstances, so well done."

"Thank you, sir," Megan replied.

"But that's not why I asked you two here." He handed Megan a folder. She leaned toward me so I could read it with her.

"This is a Diva gig," McDouglas continued.

"That means it's optional and also a potential dead end."

"Molly Stark Sanatorium?" Megan asked.

"Yes, and its history isn't as creepy as it sounds. They treated tuberculosis patients once upon a time, but I'll give you that it looks spooky now. At any rate, this place has been on our radar for a while, but since it's in the middle of nowhere and no monsters have been officially confirmed, it's been left to sit. We'll hear a story about a ghost sighting once or twice a year, but we haven't had a 'credible' tip since 2005." My eyes went wide when Megan flipped the page.

"Potential hostiles: bodaks, wraiths, will-o'-the-wisps, banshees."

"This looks like the plot of a horror film," I said.

"You're concerned about monsters of that caliber but haven't confirmed them? I don't understand how this isn't a high priority for the CDM and the EPA."

"If this were in a populated area, it would be," McDouglas answered.

"We know very little about undead in general and even less about the ethereal variety. You can't exactly tie up a wraith and put it in a cage to observe it, or if you can, we haven't figured out how. But! We are pretty certain they have a sort of tether and can only travel so far from where they were birthed or created or whatever language you want to use."

"So even if wraiths were in there, they aren't a threat to people as long as nobody bothers them," Megan guessed.

"Exactly. People, however, are dumb. We don't know how something like a wraith forms or how it chooses where to call home if it didn't come out of a gate. Presumably, the originals came out of a dungeon, and I worked with a guy who suggested that places of 'immense suffering' attracted them. His metaphor was amphibians and water.

"Several amphibians have that adaptation so they can get from one body of water to another, but they still very much need a body of water to survive. The suffering is the water in this case, and the monsters might not have left the area because they couldn't. They didn't have another pool of suffering close enough to survive relocating."

"In theory," I added. McDouglas nodded.

"Yes, in theory. Now, the arrows from Gray's bow are generated from mana, so they can hurt ethereal undead. Osheski, I can get you a silver sword to borrow. If it hits anything but a spirit, it's trashed, so be mindful. Then I'll give you both a bunch of holy water. You can use that as a weapon, but you'll want to chug a vial if an ethereal undead touches you. The sooner the better too. In a pinch, dousing a weapon in holy water can work, but it dries pretty quickly."

"You think we can handle the monsters on this list?" I asked.

"Nothing here is below B-ranked, and I've seen all sorts of internet arguments about how they should be A-ranked for how dangerous they are."

"Bodaks are like zombies and wraiths blended together. The key to those is to avoid getting into slugfests. Wraiths are relatively easy if you have the right gear and you see them coming. Banshees are basically wraiths with a mean aural attack, and that's what messes people up. If you have a suspicion one is around, wearing good hearing protection neutralizes their biggest danger.

"Now wisps? I'll be honest with you, wisps are mother fuckers. They're fast in short bursts. They can pass through physical objects, and the most common varieties have the arsenal and smarts of a level 10 mage. If they get close enough to touch you, they deal necrotic damage. Do not let that happen under any circumstances. If you're not in a position for Gray to snipe them, run. Osheski, you're as tough as they come, but that doesn't matter. Do not attempt to tank one of those.

"If you happen to see anything worse than what's on that list, for sure get the fuck out of there as quickly as you can. So, do you want the gig? I can pay $1, 000 per confirmed ghost type slayed." I shook my head.

"$3, 000 per wraith or bodak. $6, 000 per banshee. $10, 000 per wisp." I realized I hadn't consulted Megan whatsoever and glanced at her. She nodded approvingly.

"If I agree, does that mean you're taking the job?" McDouglas asked. Megan and I consulted with one another again. She said, "Yes."

"You have a deal." McDouglas took the original folder and then passed us a version that had been scrubbed of anything that suggested the files came from a government agency, just like he had done for the Over-the-Rhine troll. We shook his hand.

"Play this one safe," he cautioned.

"Ghost types can surround you quickly if you're not paying attention, so for this run, don't assume that a solid surface is any sort of reliable cover or that these monsters will bother with doors or stairs." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. We nodded that we understood.

"Real quick," I said before we stepped out of his office.

"Was my pricing better this time?" McDouglas wobbled his head.

"You could get $25, 000 per wisp. I can't emphasize enough how much they are mother fuckers, though. If you see one from a distance, don't engage. Get to a safe place and call me." Beth, her boyfriend Kwame, Nathan, Megan, and de Saint were already at the High Bar Pub. I had intended to meet them at the guild house and walk down, like we always did, but my after-work errands ran long. I parked outside the bar and texted the group chat.

"Come outside and see our new wheels!" I stood proudly next to my new ride as my people came out of the bar. Nathan's face lit up like it was Christmas morning. Megan chewed her cheek, which was what she did when she knew the words in her head shouldn't be allowed to leave her lips. De Saint covered her mouth in shock. Beth smiled, though not nearly as large as Nathan, and poor Kwame looked incredibly confused.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"It's an ice cream truck," Megan replied." Former ice cream truck," I corrected. And that was the truth, though you could argue it was more of an ice cream van in terms of the base body. Yes, the exterior still had the faded pictures of ice cream sandwiches, fudge pops, creamsicles, slushy cups, and frozen treats vaguely shaped like famous cartoon characters. But the interior had been gutted of all the hardware and equipment necessary for an ice cream truck. De Saint reassuringly rubbed Megan's back with one hand.

"Let's hear him out," she said.

"I'm sure- I mean, he probably has good reasons for choosing this."

"I fucking love it," Nathan said, circling the truck with wonderment.

"I have very good reasons," I assured the group. I opened the back doors for them to look inside. Two unattached backseats were stacked in the back, but the space was otherwise empty.

"All of the equipment is gone, but it's still wired for power," I explained.

"So we have outlets for all of the electronics already, and we have enough headroom to stand upright." I glanced at de Saint.

"Most of us can stand upright, I mean. Those seats need to be bolted down. The guy I bought this from threw those in when I mentioned road trips. I thought that was nice of him. Aside from this amazing setup in the back, this thing has low miles, and most of those came from coasting through neighborhoods to sell ice cream, so the wear and tear on the engine is probably the best we could ask for compared to other used work vans."

"It's an ice cream truck," Megan repeated.

"Old ice cream trucks are creepy as fuck, Dorion."

"I don't think it's that bad."

"It does kind of look like you kidnap children," Beth admitted. I turned to regard my baby.

"I don't see it."

"Dude," Nathan grunted.

"Tell me it has one. Please, please, please tell me it has one." I grinned.

"There's a switch near the cigarette lighter." Nathan jumped into the passenger seat. He cackled and danced excitedly in his seat when cheesy carnival music blared from the roof of the van.

"It's perfect!" he shouted over the music. A moment later, he flipped the music off. Megan rubbed her temples.

"Of all things, this was the best choice?"

"It was between this and an old church van that still had 'First Baptist Ministries' on the side. It didn't have the raised roof or back outlets like this one does, and the interior smelled like the sawdust they sprinkle on vomit at schools."

"What happened to your car?" Beth asked.

"I donated it. NPR does this thing where you get a tax write-off, and they take care of towing it and everything." Kwame, who had thus far been silently stunned, spoke up with a question of his own.

"So this is, like, your personal vehicle now? You'll drive it to work and for groceries and stuff?" I nodded. That response set de Saint to laughing.

"This van is coming to work with you every day?"

"Uh huh."

"And you get a special near-the-door parking space since you're on the Cold Rollers, a space that pretty much everyone in the agency walks by to start or end a shift?"

"Yeah." De Saint laughed harder.

"It will actually fit in the garage?"

"By an inch, I made sure. I just can't drive fast enough to bounce it or anything." Nathan's mouth dropped.

"You're in the Cold Rollers and drive an ice cream truck? That's fucking perfect, dude."

"You could always get it repainted, right?" Beth proposed. Nathan appeared in front of her with a finger in his face.

"No. Absolutely not. Everyone knows that restoration decreases the value of a collectible."

"This isn't a collectible," Megan said.

"Hard disagree."

"How difficult will it be to install a desk and shelves for our hardware?" de Saint asked, inspecting the interior.

"Cake!" Nathan answered.

"Zip zip with a power drill, and you're good to go." De Saint turned to Megan.

"You have to admit it does check all the boxes, for as weird as it is."

"I saw Dorion browsing van listings during lunch," Megan replied.

"I was prepared for him to get an old rocker van with a wolf mural or a chick in a bikini on the side or something. I wasn't thrilled by the idea, but I could live with it. Somehow, he picked something weirder."

"You're never going to be allowed to turn on the music with that attitude," Nathan warned.

"Just throwing this out there, maybe we think about putting one of the freezers back in this bad boy so we can all have a little treat after a hard hunt."

"I think I can live without playing the music," Megan drolled. Nathan clucked his tongue.

"You say that now, but you'll realize how wrong you are."

"Good job, Uncle Gray," de Saint said with total sincerity.

"I'm going back to my beer now." Kwame looked confused. Beth leaned in and explained, "People started calling him 'the Unkillable,' and that evolved, or maybe devolved is the better word, into the nickname 'Uncle.'""You have an interesting family," Kwame said. Beth beamed.

"I know. Isn't it great?"