Section: 27 February 2019 Up Main page Section: 27 March 2019 

20 March 2019

A reminder came in a few days later that our employer had not forgotten us, but no immediate cash. And there were rumours, but no major talk about the robbery. A couple of days more, and we were invited to return to the warehouse on Thursday evening to get paid; there wasn’t any sign of a stakeout, and the place looked as it did before.
Miss Yvette turned up first, but didn’t see anyone; Mac and I went in next, getting no answer at the bell. There was no sign of Miss Eva, or Mr Federwell. Once Max and Terry arrived, we had a listen to the box on the table… with a flutter inside it, said Max, though I didn’t hear it (legacy of one of those new-style petermen).
Federwell was in the box. Lacking some pieces, especially his wings; lying on a bed of banknotes, soaked with his blood; and dead, or at damn close to it, his joints pinned out. Mac tried for a doctor who’d know the drill, then drove away to get him, while Max got Federwell out of the box and I looked for first aid materials.
Down at the bottom of the box were the words, “return what you stole”. As if we hadn’t got the message.
Miss Yvette looked for signs of Miss Eva; pageing through the magazines she found a business card, a hair stylist on one side and a dress shop and lingerie fitter on the other.
Max had an edgy feeling as he was driving, though he couldn’t lay a finger on it. He took a convoluted and almost impossible route, picked up his passenger, and returned.
I went outside for a smoke, and kept an eye on the warehouse’s guard; it was all pretty quiet, except the cats coming to an agreement about making more cats.
Mac came back with our medic, who wasn’t an expert but was cheap. But he wasn’t able to keep Federwell alive… and on the way back Mac was trailed by another shadow, something like a large black dog. After he dropped off the doc, he reversed over the shadow, though it wasn’t clear if he’d done much damage.
Meanwhile inside, Terry picked up the sound of something on the roof; soon enough something was sniffing at the door too. And maybe another one, maybe the same one, in the back by the camp beds. I bundled up the money, and the body, while the others readied guns in case of a fight.
When the sniffing claw-clicking thing didn’t go away, Terry shot through the door, and a yelp followed… then a very deep growl.
On the road, Mac waited for a dark patch of road, then spun the car and caught the thing in the headlights; it didn’t turn away, but it was uncomfortable. He tried to run it over again, but wasn’t able to catch the thing before it got away; indeed it was able to reach through the door and claw at him.
Our own dog shifted back to our exit door, and it didn’t back down when Max shouted at it; he punched, and it slid out of the way. Terry unloaded more rounds at it, and it felt it though it wasn’t badly hurt, but it went after him. Miss Yvette tried to deploy her charm at it, but without much success.
We went back and forth for a bit, the creature getting a brief grip on Miss Yvette, and Terry picking up the table to try to make a big swipe at it. I got round and opened the door, while another hound came through the wall and went after Max. Terry’s table slowed down as he struck, but seemed to make the thing unhappy.
Miss Yvette got in a shot, and that seemed much more effective than the others. With both hounds down, we cleared out, getting outside just as Mac returned with the car.
 Section: 27 February 2019 Up Main page Section: 27 March 2019