Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3) by Robert Bevan Page A

yelled. “Hurry up!”
    “I don’t know,” the man in the truck continued. “He was at least eight foot tall. Biggest, scariest looking nigger you never set eyes on… Well, I apologize, ma’am. I did not know that… Well how was I supposed to tell that over the phone? You don’t sound like one… Look, I said I was sorry… No, bigger than that. In fact, he almost looked like a gorilla… What? Oh, come on now… I didn’t say you all look like gorillas. I… But that’s not… You can’t… Hey, I’m the victim here!... Well then fuck you, lady!” He jabbed a sausagy finger into his phone. “Fucking liberals.”
    Cooper shoved Dennis into the back of the van and climbed in after him. Julian closed the doors and ran around to the driver’s window.
    “Get out of here,” Julian said to Randy. “Drive up the 110 and pull into the Walmart just across the interstate. We’ll meet you there.”
    The van drove off. Tim was still nowhere to be seen. Julian looked for the truck. Thankfully, it was gone.
    Julian was about to breathe a small sigh of relief when he spotted the truck again, right in front of him. It pulled up behind Stacy’s car, blocking her in. The driver got out.
    “Hey Eggroll,” said the truck owner.
    Julian looked around for anything which might be appropriately addressed as ‘Eggroll’. Coming up empty, he looked at the truck driver. “Are you talking to me?”
    “You’re goddamned right I am, Sashimi.”
    “I don’t understand your ref—”
    “You tell that nigger friend of yours that he’s gonna pay to have my truck repaired. You got that?”
    Stacy got out of the car. “Sir, he had nothing to do with –”
    “This don’t concern you, bitch.” He addressed Julian. “I got that van’s plate number.”
    “Oh yeah?” said Stacy. “What is it?” She was having too much fun for Julian’s comfort. This man almost certainly had an extensive gun collection.
    “I believe I was talking to Wingding. Why don’t you get your skinny, chink-loving cunt back in the car.”
    “Hey!” said Julian. It was time for an Intimidation check. He stepped forward, getting right in the truck driver’s face. He spoke softly, but firmly. “Get in your truck, go back to your trailer, turn on some NASCAR, and fuck your sister.”
    The man jabbed Julian’s chest with his finger. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that? Coming into this country and talking to me that way. I don’t care how many black belts you got. I’ll kick your railroad-building, soy sauce-sucking, chopsti—” A giant glob of white ran down from his bandana over his right eye and down his cheek.  "What the fuck?” He wiped it out of his eye and flung it away.
    Well done, Ravenus. Well done. “You were saying?”
    The man was beet-red and shaking, but it’s hard to be taken seriously with a face full of bird shit. He got in his truck and slammed the door. The tires squealed as he sped off.
    “What was all that about?” asked Tim, who appeared out of nowhere.
    “Do I look Asian?” asked Julian, looking in Stacy’s side mirror.
    “I wouldn’t have thought so,” said Stacy. “But I can see it. Your eyes have a little upward slant at the ends.”
    “Hey, where’s the van?” said Tim.
    “I sent them to Walmart.”
    “What the fuck for?” cried Tim. “Did you run out of Funyuns?”
    “I had to make a split-second decision. We were drawing too much attention.”
    “Why Walmart?” asked Tim. “That’s miles away.”
    “It’s the first place that came to mind. They could hang out anonymously in the parking lot, and still be easy for us to find.”
    “Shit.”
    “We could call them and tell them to turn around if some asshole hadn’t chucked my phone into – Hey, where’s Mordred’s car?” The parking space where Mordred’s car had been was now vacant.
    “He’s on the move!” said Tim. He folded his arms across his chest and looked up smugly at Julian. “But now we can track him back to his