A Martinez - Divine Misfortune

Phil slouched in his seat and exhaled.

“Thanks,” he told the navigation charm hanging from the mirror.

The eyeball bobbed at him.

The finches settled in a circle around his car. They went silent again.

“Thank you, Lucky.” He turned to Elliot. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

Phil checked himself for any cuts or bruises, but miraculously, the birds hadn’t laid a beak on him.

An especially large finch glared at him through the windshield. Then, in an instant, they were gone, launching themselves skyward and disappearing.

The navigation charm hanging from Teri’s rearview wasn’t perfect. It had trouble parallel parking. And while it was pretty good at avoiding traffic jams, it wasn’t able to perform miracles.

A series of fender benders, a serious accident, and a tractor trailer jackknife had reduced traffic to a crawl. There was nothing to do about it but sit it out. The charm made it easier. She didn’t have to pay attention and could while away the time reading.

It was probably why she never saw the truck coming.

Her car was passing through an intersection when a cement truck barreled along and smashed into the rear half of her coupe. She spun out like a top and bounced off another automobile, coming to a stop across two lanes.

It happened so fast that it was over before she even realized. But it was only the first part of the accident.

Brakes squealed as another car plowed into the coupe. She was knocked a few feet more and into the path of another truck. She yelped as it moved forward. Its bumper was higher than her hood, so the truck bounced onto the coupe. Its huge front tire rolled across the hood and right toward the windshield. Teri ducked into her seat, as if that would prevent her from being crushed.

But the coupe didn’t crush. Even as the large vehicle came to a halt with its tire resting on her roof.

It took her a few seconds to realize she wasn’t hurt. Another few seconds to remember that she was riding in an invulnerable car. There wasn’t even a crack in the windshield. She was a little shaken up, but even that seemed minimal. Maybe there was some kind of enchantment that protected the passengers from the worst of a collision.

Lucky had saved her life.

She rolled down her window and peered upward at the truck perched above her. Cautiously, she exited the coupe and moved to a safe distance. The intersection was a pileup of automobiles. The cement truck that had caused the chain of vehicular carnage had plowed into a storefront. The driver peeked from the open door. He glanced around the scene. His eyes met hers, and he frowned.

He jumped to the sidewalk and ran away. She lost sight of him in the crowd.

A trio of red spotted pigeons landed on the truck. They were strangely un-pigeonlike in their movements. Their heads didn’t bob, and they just perched on the truck, staring down at her. And just her.

A shiver ran through her, but that had to be because of the accident, the noise, the chaos. The pigeons were just something weird for her to focus on. But she had a winged serpent sleeping on her couch and her best friend was dating a raccoon, so Teri’s definition of notably weird had changed over the past few days.

Still, the oddly colored pigeons qualified.

A siren drew her attention, and she glanced away. When she looked back, the birds were gone.

But she couldn’t get them out of her mind.

Bruce made it back to his home without getting caught.

It’d all seemed so simple. Steal a truck, wait for the right opportunity, and then crush Teri Robinson under his bumper. He’d picked Teri rather than Phil because she was a woman, and that had made her less threatening in his mind. Irrational, he knew, especially since his weapon of choice was a twenty-ton vehicle. But this would be his first human sacrifice to Gorgoz. He’d slaughtered a small menagerie in his dark god’s name, but humans were a big step. Still, when the order came down, he was ready for it. This was his chance to prove himself to Gorgoz, to rise up in the ranks.

And he’d blown it.

But he was safe. Nobody had seen him. Except maybe Teri, and it was a fleeting glance at best. She’d see him again. And next time, there would be no miracles to save her.

“Hello, bug.”

He jumped at the voice.

The spotted rat on his sofa stared at him.

Bruce knelt. “Master, I have failed you.”

“Yes, you have.”

“It won’t happen again,” said Bruce.

“No, it won’t.”

The scampering of dozens of tiny rodent feet filled the room. And Bruce knew the time had come to pay the piper. He regretted that it was going to end like this, struck down before he even had a chance to rise up in the ranks, before he’d gotten his chance to at least get something worthwhile from all the blood he’d spilled in Gorgoz’s name. But, honestly, he wasn’t surprised.

The swarm of squirrels, rats, and one ravenous, red-speckled wombat pounced on him and devoured him, and Bruce’s career in Gorgoz’s temple came to a bloody end.

“I challenge,” said Lucky.

“You challenge?” Quick tapped the table with his clawed fingertips. “But it’s a word. S-O-M-B-R-E-R-O. A wide-brimmed hat.”

“I know what it is,” said Lucky. “But it’s not an English word and the rules say very clearly that all words must be in English.”

“No, the rules say words must appear in the dictionary.”

“So I challenge. Check the dictionary.”

Quick picked up the pocket dictionary resting beside the Scrabble board and flipped through to the S section.

“Is it in there?” asked Lucky with a wry grin.

“No, it’s not,” replied Quick, “but that’s not fair. The page is missing. Just like every other page that would contain every other word that you’ve challenged.”

“It’s not my fault the only dictionary we could find was defective.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

“Hey, it’s just my nature. I can’t help it.” Lucky laid out all his tiles, reading as he went. “Z-E-O-L-I-T-E.”

“That’s not a word,” said Quick.

“Do you challenge?”

“What’s it mean?”

“Do you challenge?” asked Lucky.

“You don’t know what it means, do you? You just laid out the tiles at random, didn’t you?”

“I know what it means,” replied Lucky after a moment’s hesitation. “Do you know what it means?”

“Why don’t you tell me then?” asked Quick.

“Why don’t you tell me?” said Lucky.

“Just admit it. You don’t know what it means.”

“Okay, so I don’t. But I don’t have to know. That’s not in the rules.”

The gods stared at each other across the coffee table of honor.

Lucky smiled. “Do you challenge or not?”

Quick scooped up the dictionary and flipped through it. He slammed the book onto the table. “I hate playing games of chance with you.”

“Scrabble is not a game of chance. It is a game of skill with an element of chance. There’s a difference. And don’t be such a sore loser. Come on. You’re due! Nobody wins all the time. Not even me. I think I saw an old copy of Clue in the closet.”

“Don’t you need three for Clue?”

Phil walked through the front door.

“Phil will join us,” said Quick. “Won’t you, Phil?”

“Uh, sure,” said Phil. “What are we doing?”

“Playing Clue.” Lucky bounded to the other room to get the game.

“It’s been forever since I played that game,” said Phil.

Quick shook his head.

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

“You have a little something there.” Quick pointed to a spot of white bird crap on Phil’s shoulder.

“You should see my car.”