This is a series of short stories, detailing the adventures of Chelsea Childling. You can start with her origin story or pick something from the index.
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The badly lit hotel room was dirty. Not in the well-used and loved sense, but in the Chelsea-very-much-didn’t-want-to-take-off-her-shoes sense. She sighed and pulled her feet onto the bed. The bottoms of her socks were black. Bentley, her huge mutt, whimpered before bounding on to the bed beside her.

But her biggest problem wasn’t dirty floors. It was Rita Green and her information. The silver-haired matriarch was prominent in the monster hunting world, and famous for mothering hunters indiscriminately. Chelsea had spent the last few days trying to convince herself she was flattered by the old woman’s attention and concern, and that Rita really did have her best interests at heart.

She hadn’t managed it.

Heart thumping, Chelsea dialed the bar in Pittsburgh.

“Rita’s. Whadda yinz need?” The sound of regulars talking and glass clinking nearly drowned out the old yinzer.

“Rita, it’s Chelsea.”

“Well, hey there, girly. How’s the mother road treatin’ ya?”

“Cheryl was great, but the folks she set me up to work with…” Chelsea forced herself to swallow. Whether she wanted to do it or not, she had to confront Rita. “Did you know who she was working with?”

“Chelsea, cut the passive shit. What’s the problem?”

A thread of red hot anger burned through her chest. “Those assholes almost got me killed!”

“What in the hell? When?”

Chelsea sucked in a deep breath and gripped the thick fur at Bentley’s neck. “Months ago. In Washington, fighting a rock troll. They didn’t tell me what it could do or how to fight it.”

“Alrighty. Now which assholes are we talkin’ bout ‘xactly?”

“The ones with the tattoos.”

Rita swore long and loud. The sounds of the bar shut down. Chelsea could only imagine the hunters watching her with trepidation, instinctively looking to avoid the new danger. “Look here, I had no idea they was involved with Cheryl. And yer right not to want to deal with them.” She muttered a few more curses under her breath. “Now, that being said, how did it go with the bats?”

“Good. Great honestly. Miguel and Tony–”

“Miguel was out? He’s one of the good ones. If they show up, you refuse to go out without him, ya hear me?”

“I thought you said not to work with them?”

Rita chuckled. “I said you was right not to want to work with them. Some of them don’t know their asses from a hole in the ground, and they all act like the gods gifted them to us peasants. But if they do show up, you demand to work with Miguel or you walk away. Got it?”

“Who are they?”

“Arrogant pricks, but they’re good at killing monsters.”

Frustration ground her teeth. This was not the first time someone had covered for these people. Whoever they were, the monster hunting community was absolutely keeping their secrets.

Rita chuckled. “Trust me, girlie. You don’t want ta’ know more ‘bout them folks. Let this one go.”

“Whatever.”

“You still willin’ ta’ do this fer me? Run the mother road and help folks?”

Chelsea paused, her heart thumping. Bentley nosed his way under her hand and she thawed a touch. “Don’t really have anywhere else to go if we’re being honest.” She resolutely ignored the several texts messages from both Andy and Jackson.

A snort from Rita rolled through the phone. “Good enough. There’s a borer in OK City and that’s an all hands situation. You’re gonna get real dirty, but it’s good pay. There’s a landmark just east of the city. The Blue Whale of Catoosa. Folks is meetin’ up there t’plan. Ask fer Mike.”

Jotting down the info, she thanked Rita and hung up.

At check out, she dumped the dead bathroom roaches on the counter for her discount, and then hit the road. This part of Oklahoma was flat, brown, and full of tolls. Not that she minded paying, but having to pay once an hour, every hour, or more, grated. Luckily, the Whale was off the main highway, part of the old route that ran parallel to the new road.

The Blue Whale of Catoosa was indeed big and blue. It sat in the mucky little pond amid the ‘No Swimming’ signs, mouth wide open. Chelsea and Bentley explored the whale and exited to find a small crowd of three sturdily dressed folks who looked like they knew how to hit things that bumped in the night.

Chelsea flashed some teeth in something close to a smile. “Anybody here named Mike?”

A short man, with long, black hair, gave a little wave. “Rita said you’d have a dog. Does he really hunt?”

Bentley preened and pranced for attention as the hunters explained her part of the plan. Borers were long, worm-like monsters, and though they had no mouths, they were a direct threat to people. The slime off their skin killed trees.

Chelsea winced. “Can’t we just sic a Guardian Tree on them?”

Mike chuckled. “No Guardians that close to so many people. You’ve got the easier but dangerous part. You get to pour the poison into the sewer.”

“Poison?” She adjusted her coat. “I assume it doesn’t hurt humans.”

“It’ll cause chemical burns. It also sends the borers into a frenzy, but it keeps them from spitting acid once they leave the sewers, so…”

“Spitting acid?” Chelsea sighed. “Whatever happened to just decapitating monsters?”

Mike laughed with his friends. “We can set you up to take on some reavers in the city if you want.”

She shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow night?”

The hunters laughed even as they promised her someone would be watching her back and put the canister of poison in her trunk. It sat in its red plastic gas container, looking all innocent. With Mike’s coordinates on her phone, Chelsea headed to the outskirts of Oklahoma City.

The yellow-brown folds of land hid little pockets of civilization. Nearly identical rows of houses, some finished, some not lined by clutches of dead trees. The bare, black branches sat stark in the endless sky. She pulled over to an unfinished section of houses and got Bentley and the poison. Mike and the others pulled up behind her and readied their axes.

Once they waved to her, Chelsea found a sewer grate and uncapped the gas canister. Through the metal grating came the sound of multiple big slimy things slithering on each other. Or at least it conjured that picture in her mind.

She tipped up the canister and poured. The liquid was whitish and thick and slowly left the spout. As it dribbled into the sewer, the slithering got louder and more frantic. Before the poison was quite gone, something pink and muscly shot out of the sewer. Chelsea yelped, but Bentley leapt into action. The huge mutt shouldered past her, grabbed the flailing limb, and yanked.

Chelsea dropped the canister and pulled her ax. Before she could hack at the borer, another ax came into view.

Mike chopped through the monster and spun back to her. “Is it gone?”

Only a little remained in the canister, but she grabbed it and poured it into the sewer, anyway. When the next border lashed out, she ducked and let Mike and Bentley handle it.

Once the last of the liquid had seeped into the drain, she tossed the canister aside and hefted her ax. “Now we fight, right?”

Mike grinned and gestured down the street, where pink, worm-like things were crawling out of the sewers. “Yup.”

Chelsea sucked in a hot, sharp breath. “Good, I really need something to chop up.”

“They just try to wiggle away now. They can’t fight back.”

She started down the empty streets, refusing to think of New York City and the last few months. “Even better.”
***