The Last Grease Monkey: Part 12

>>1592893
Chief walks up and kicks the mortally wounded skinwalker in the ribs until he rolls over on his back, at which point Chief jams his Garand's bayonet straight through the eyehole of the skinwalker's freaky mask. Instead of just dying like a normal person the skinwalker howls and flails around, grabbing at the rifle and trying to pull the bayonet out of his head. Chief's expression is equal parts bemusement and disgust as he twists the bayonet with a disconcertingly loud squelch. The Skinwalker's entire body jerks and spasms, then goes limp.

"Chief, there's another car, you and Jim can follow-"
"I need to stay for a few minutes," Chief interrupts. "I can try to cleanse the ground. Drive these spirits back where they came from before they start latching on to things and trying to stay."

Spirits? Damn, he must mean the smoke monsters. You'd been meaning to ask about them. "The fuck are those things, anyway?"
"Spirits," says Chief, "Bad ones. Did one of them touch you?"
"Touch me?" you wince. "Shit Chief, he got inside my fuckin leg!"

Chief removes the Bowie knife from his belt, sheath and all, and offers it to you hilt-first.
"Try this," he says.
You grip the knife by its elkhorn handle and draw it from the scabbard. You've seen what it can do in Chief's hands, but smoke spirits aren't people.
"What, do I just...stab em?"
"Stab em," Chief affirms. "Now get going."

A) Ask Chief exactly how he knows all this shit
B) Ask Chief what'll happen if Billy Nez makes it to the Wendigo
C) Listen to Chief and get going, you're wasting time you don't have

>>1592896
>C) Listen to Chief and get going, you're wasting time you don't have

>>1592896
>>1592896
>B) Ask Chief what'll happen if Billy Nez makes it to the Wendigo
However concerning the evil spirits may be, our Wendigo pal should be the priority.

>>1592896
>C) Listen to Chief and get going, you're wasting time you don't have

>C) Listen to Chief and get going, you're wasting time you don't have

>>1592896
>C) Listen to Chief and get going, you're wasting time you don't have

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>>1592896
Best get going, you have plenty of questions but now's not the time. Chief turns to Jim as you leave.
"That a tomahawk on your belt?"
"Yup," says Jim, "Got it off that big ol Injun's twin brother. Pretty sweet, ri-"
"Give it here, you look fucking ridiculous."

A chrome "300 D" badge catches your eye as you approach the Chrysler. You pop the handle and swing the heavy door open.
"Fucking finally," says Zoe as you slide onto the enormous bench seat. She takes off before you even finish closing the door and and follows the road back to the highway instead of cutting across the rutted dirt where Jim's wounded Riviera lies. Now that all those road pirates are dead she can cut as close to the bus parked across the road as she likes.
"Don't you ever tell me to calm my tits again."
Yeah, that was a bit much. Better apologize. "You're right, wasn't my place to tell you what to do with em. Hell, if you want to, you got my permission to get em in an uproar."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDZrbTd-kZs

Zoe hits the gas and rockets off into the dirt, swinging around the bus full of corpses and sawing at the wheel to keep the big finned boat moving toward the road sideways. The Chrysler bounces this way on that on its floaty suspension until the tires meet pavement with a whirring screech of burning rubber. Your head snaps back when the tires grab traction and the big Chrysler just keeps on accelerating, the Hemi howling at some ungodly rpm.

"You mean like that?" asks Zoe with a grin. You nod in approval.

Thankfully she lets off a bit once it hits 120, the speedometer on this fucker goes to 150 and from the performance so far you don't doubt it'll get there.
"So what did you need to talk to Chief about?" asks Zoe.
"Ghosts and shit," you reply.
"Shit like that?" Zoe points to the sky. Fast-moving dark shapes mar the last remnants of the desert sunset. Zoe keeps the hammer down.

One mile marker zooms by, then another. Soon you see the Mercury's taillights up ahead, almost if this fucker was waiting for you. His engine sputters and generally sounds like shit through its mangled exhaust pipes, you're gaining on him fast.

A) Get alongside him
B) Shoot at him from behind
C) Slow down and stay behind him, let him lead you to the Wendigo so you can take them both out

If you shoot at Billy, what do you use?

D) S&W Model 27 (you carry this gun every day, it's practically a part of you)
E) MAC-10 (spray and pray)
F) M14 (only six rounds left)
G) Borrow Zoe's grenade launcher (you've never used one)

>>1600060
>C) Slow down and stay behind him, let him lead you to the Wendigo so you can take them both out
Two bastards, one stone.

>>1600060
>C) Slow down and stay behind him, let him lead you to the Wendigo so you can take them both out
Zoe should flash the high beams, spook him a little bit

>>1600060
>C) Slow down and stay behind him, let him lead you to the Wendigo so you can take them both out
Plan how to pop the fucker before he can unite with the wendigo at the destination though.

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>>1600060
"Hang back," you tell Zoe, "He's gonna lead us straight to the buzzard."
Zoe lets off the throttle but doesn't bother to brake and coasts right up to Billy's rear bumper. He doesn't seem to even notice, doing a wavering 58-63 mph. Zoe sighs but settles in a few car lengths behind him. "Two for one special on freaky motherfuckers?"
"That's the plan."
"Don't suppose you asked Chief what might happen if they meet up?"
"Slipped my mind."
Zoe chuckles. "Figure it's nothing a couple 40-mil frag rounds won't fix."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DmYLrxR0Y8

Well damn, guess his stereo still works. You're pulling those speakers if there's anything left of the car when you're done with this sack of shit. Billy slows the Merc down even more and starts weaving all over the road. Zoe shakes her head in disgust.
"What's this damn freak peckerhead doing?"

Billy swerves onto the shoulder and sparks fly when he hits a jagged rock with a sickening clank, severing one of the bent exhaust pipes. The Merc's engine tone is dramatically altered and it picks up some speed from the uncorked exhaust on one side. Zoe curses, swerves and narrowly avoids running over the scrap metal that tumbles into the road. He then manages to perfectly repeat the process on the other side, opening both headers, and lays into the throttle of a much healthier sounding machine. Zoe seems to be pushing the Chrysler harder now to keep up.

Roll 1d100

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Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>1600276

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>1600276

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>1600276

So why the pasbin instead of a link to previous threads? Where they not archived?

>>1600063
That's filthy, she'd never.
>>1600295
Some were on Yuki.la but not all. I suck at archives, I know.

>>1600332
Cool. Your writing is solid by the way. I wont read 3/4 of the stuff on this board but the opening post was all it took to convince me to follow this quest.

>>1600276
Whatever's under the hood of that Merc must be pretty hot. Billy manages to pull ahead some at first, but Zoe stays right behind and begins to close the distance as the speeds get higher and the road gets twistier. The old Chrysler is surprisingly stable through the turns but the dying crank baron's mutilated Merc is anything but, wallowing to and fro on blown-out shocks while the tires shriek for mercy. The road pirates' ambush point, littered with wreckage and corpses, is just around the next bend. He'll have to slow down to get through...oh shit.

You'd expected him to hit the brake a little coming up to that curve. Or at least turn the wheel. Instead the Merc leaves the road entirely, catching a few feet of air then half-skidding down a long slope, almost flipping over before Billy regains control and begins hauling ass down an old dirt trail that cuts through the foothills. In the rear-view mirror you see the flying spook squadron veering off to the left, as if drawn to the nearby pile of slaughtered road pirates. As the curve and the drop off rush toward you Zoe lets off the gas slightly and looks over at you, wordlessly offering you a final chance to back out before you go over.

A) Go for it
B) Hell no

>>1605907
>flying spook squadron, pile of slaughtered road pirates
FUCK NO, NOPE, FUCK THIS

>B) Hell no

>>1605907
>B) Hell no

>>1605907
Seeing those spooks all worked up gives you pause. Something about that just doesn't sit right with you. Didn't Chief mention something about those things latching on? Trying to stay?
"Stop!"

Zoe locks up the brakes and barely manages to keep the bucking Chrysler from swapping ends. It comes to a screeching halt with the front tires inches from the precipice.
"What?" asks Zoe, annoyed though a bit relieved she didn't have to beat on the cherry Chrysler. Billy's taillights disappear down the trail.
"Just a feeling," you reply. "Follow the highway a little further."

Zoe backs up slightly, then maneuvers the Chrysler around the curve at a sedate pace. Cold air rushes in through the open windows and from the green glow of the dash you think you see Zoe's "high beams" through that sweatshirt she's wearing. Something tells you you'd better keep that information to yourself.

Soon you're back at the desolate piece of asphalt where you almost died about half an hour ago. Zoe pulls the Chrysler to a stop in the middle of the road with the headlights on and the Hemi idling. At first the scene the headlights illuminate seems pretty much as you left it: wrecked bikes, bullet-riddled cars and mutilated corpses litter the road. The smell of death permeates the air, but another even worse one is there underneath: the deep sooty burning roadkill scent of the skinwalkers' smoke show and the evil spirits it spawned. A dark haze emanates from the bodies.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfRmE5ui7sk

Innumerable pops, cracks and otherworldly groans ring out over the roadside battlefield. There are twitches. Ripples. You can't quite see what's moving or where until dozens of the dead begin to rise, their twisted broken bodies jerked violently to their feet like marionettes controlled by impatient children. Some have limbs blown away, others most of their heads, but the dead seem to give not even a semblance of a fuck about such minor inconveniences.

A) Get out and fight
B) Have Zoe try to run them over

>>1607944
>Write-in) Do not get out of the car. Do not run them over if you can help it.
Expect these pretzels to be more stubborn about turning re-dead.

>>1607979
second

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>1607979
Shoot 'em with the .357 for now

>>1607944
You already know these fuckers aren't gonna die easy, but some hot loaded .357 hollow points should be able to take them apart. You draw your trusty Smith & Wesson, it's gotten you through, well, maybe not worse shit than this but definitely some bad shit. You also have a Colt Trooper .357 as a backup and the MAC-10 if they get too close. The road pirate puppets shuffle around with awkward lurching steps, acrid black smoke pouring from their eyes and ears, using their newfound lungs to grunt and groan and scream.

You wouldn't blame Zoe if she was frozen in terror, but she's much too pissed off for that. She revs the Hemi against the brake. "Let's run these shitbirds over," she says with a sneer.
You shake your head. "Wouldn't if I were you. Ever had to untangle a human pretzel from your driveshaft?"
Zoe gags. "What's the plan then?"
"Drive around em, run em in circles, I'll keep shooting and keep em off the car."
"You better keep em off the car."

Several of these abominations bump into each other during their seemingly aimless meandering and get into a shrieking squabble until one with a large bullet hole through his forehead begins to choke out what sounds like actual words in some horrid tongue you've never heard before and would prefer to never hear again. All of them snap to attention and swivel their heads toward you and Zoe. You can't see any eyes through the smoldering sockets but something meets your gaze, you can feel it in your bones. A split second later every corpse is madly scrambling toward your car.

Roll 1d100

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>1616930

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>1616930