Josh Brown-Demon Hunter for Hire

8/8/2019 Josh Brown-Demon Hunter for Hire

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JoshBrown

Demon Hunterfor Hire

Joey OConnor


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Chapter 1Pecos, New Mexico

A few minutes before six, the soft glow of early morning light peeked

through the stained glass windows in the small church like so many colors of

a childs kaleidoscope. Josh felt a small wet tongue lick his face. First his

nose. Then his cheek. Then his lips. Lulled out of a deep slumber, a single

thought slowly rolled forward from the recesses of his mind.Disgusting.

Go away, Josh groaned as he turned over in the hardwood pew.

Not to be discouraged, the small little creature, or should we say, a

cream colored pug with a coal-black snout, dashed back and forth at the foot

of the pew. The pug huffed a nasally snort and let out a sharp tight bark. It

looked at the light streaming in the window, a rainbow of rich colors now

filling the sanctuary, and barked again, but this time, like a cracking whip.

Arms folded in a thin red flannel and his head resting on a crumpled

sweatshirt, all of Josh Browns bulky 64 frame lay cramped on the tiny

pew. One leg in faded jeans hung off the wooden edge and it was this one

leg, the exposed talus portion of the Joshs ankle to be exact, which caught

the pugs attention. Tilting its head with an inquisitive look like only a pug

can do, the pug thought to himself, And why not?


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With that, the pug jumped and firmly nipped its teeth into the small

triangular bump on Joshs ankle. Close, but no blood.

Oww! Josh screamed, leaping up, but not before almost falling off

the pew. Thats it! Get over here, General!

The General, quite a big name for such a little dog, backed away,

careful to keep its distance as Josh peeled back his sock and rubbed his

ankle.

The General looked at the stained glass and barked again.

Okay, okay. Im coming. Do that again and Im trading you in for a

poodle. Howd ya like that, huh?

The General let out a soft growl.

Come here, you little beast.

The General ran forward and hopped up on the pew next to Josh. Josh

pulled him close to his chest and gave The Generals thick little body several

fast, hard scratches. The General responded with obvious dog joy, kicking

his hind leg in a rapid sewing machine motion. Pure ecstasy.

Josh stretched out his left leg and rubbed his hip several times, a slight

grimace escaping his mouth. He grabbed his sweatshirt, slowly stood up and

looked around the empty chapel. A careful sweep of the eyes confirmed that

he, still a teenager at seventeen and his dog, were the only ones present in


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this house of God. Hed been kicked out of more churches than he cared to

remember. Josh hobbled down the center aisle towards the back door,

shaking out his leg, but not quite able to completely shake out what was

clearly a noticeable limp.

Eyes fixed on the back door, Josh wasnt sure what lay ahead in the

day to come. He always had an idea, call it an inkling or faint intuition, but

he could never be completely sure. Josh paused, noticing something was

wrong. He looked back at The Generals head peeking over the pew. So

eager to wake Josh, but now he didnt want to leave the place. The big baby.

General!

The General frowned; completely sure of what was yet to come. More

of the same, but not knowing when or where and still worse, who? The

General whined. Pug resistance.

You know we cant stay here, Josh pleaded, saying the same thing

hed said almost every day for the past five years.

One more mournful whine. Couldnt hurt, The General thought.Kids

do it all the time.

For crying out loud! Youre The General! Show some courage!


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The Generals whining pitched higher; noticeably higher like

something was really wrong. The General now shivered; fear rippling

through that small canine body.

Josh reached into his pocket, pulled out a small yellow wrapper and

dangled it high above his head.

Ive got a Butterfinger, baby.

Dang, The General thought as he hopped off the pew and ran down

the aisle as fast as he could.He always does that!

Josh held the door open for The General, who now jumped up and

down on his hind legs, eager to devour this sugar-laden snack. Josh figured it

wasnt a far cry from all the boxes of sugar cereal he used to devour for

breakfast.

The safety of the church door swinging shut behind them, Josh and

The General walked from the cool shadow of the church and into the warm

blanket of the rising sun. Josh stopped. He scanned his eyes as far as he

could see across the arid desert terrain and the thousands of Saguaro cacti

that stood like tall green Army Rangers all across the Southwest.If only I

had that much help, Josh thought to himself. Below him was the town of

Pecos, New Mexico, a small commuter town only sixteen miles from Santa


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Fe. Local population of 1,441, not counting dogs. Joshs next stop in what

had become a very long, unexpected journey.

Come on, General. Lets get going. Weve got work to do.

Josh and The General started down the dirt shoulder of the paved road

leading into town. Behind them rose the Pecos Wilderness and the majestic

peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, notably Truchas Peak, knifing

13,000 feet high above the desert floor. To his left, the Pecos River flowed

south in a slow, lazy blue. Ahead, Josh could see the Pecos National Historic

Park, filled with prehistoric pueblos and decayed Spanish Mission church

ruins. It was a beautiful day, the song of birds breaking the quiet and an

occasional rooster crow in the distance.

Bet ya didnt know that Coronado and his Spanish army of 1,200

men arrived there in 1540, Josh said to the General, who didnt look up and

at this point, could totally care less. The General marched towards town.

Morning meant mealtime.

I read the brochure. Thats one of the benefits of being human, Josh

continued. You get to read, think, learn. Course being a dog is much

easier. Josh stopped and looked down at The General who advanced at a

brisk pace, his tightly twisted tail bringing up the rear. Youre not listening,

are you?


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The two passed a cemetery filled with old white headstones and after

awhile, came to a tired-looking gas station at the bottom of the hill. Rusty

signs, peeling paint and two dusty old pumps made it clear that this was an

independent operation. One garage door was open with a sign that said,

Mechanic on Duty. What a novel throwback. A gas station with an actual

mechanic on duty, but this place was nothing like the large modern gas

stations along the I-25 and I-40 with full-service convenience stores offering

gourmet coffee and decent food where Josh ate most his meals, crisscrossing

the country in search of, what he was almost resigned to thinking would be

impossible to find. Still, he couldnt give up. He had to keep trying. Too

much was at stake and not searching was not an option.

A red neon sign in the window signaled the station was open. The

place was dingy, but it looked like it had food inside. Joshs stomach

growled and he didnt want to walk much further without getting something

to eat. As usual, he only had a few bucks left in his pocket and he liked to

eat early. Who knows how long itd take to find work in Pecos? On a good

day, whether he was building a fence, washing cars or ripping down drywall,

he could get some kind of food on the job site. On a good day.

Josh looked down at the General, who looked back at him and licked

his lips in a hopeful pant.


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Sorry, they wont be serving steak, stewed chicken, brown rice or

Kibbles n Bits.

The General looked disappointed.No Kibbles n Bits?

Ill see what I can do. You stay here.

A few minutes later, Josh returned with a small bag and sat down at

the curb a few feet away from the garage. He rubbed his hip, trying to work

out the morning stiffness. Sleeping on a hard pew never helped, but it was

more appealing than sleeping on the cold brown tile pavers on the church

floor. Josh didnt care if an old church bench was as bad as a splintered

Medieval torture rack filled with rusty nails and broken glass. He could think

of worse. Like getting locked out of a church. Happened to him once in

Chicago. Wont happen again. Yep, getting locked out of a church, any

church, that is one experience he intended to avoid happening again.

Josh looked around. Geez, here he was sitting in a dirty gas station

having breakfast with a silly dog in Podunk Pecos, New Mexico. Go figure.

He should be starting his senior year, getting ready for a coming graduation.

Scratch thatJosh hadnt even started high school yet and he couldnt

believe that his life had come to this. The past few years on the road, call it

one long field trip, had given him far more extracurricular activities than

hed ever imagined. There were days when he longed to be like any other


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teenager. The simplicity of six classes and afterschool sports. Chores at

home. Hanging out with buddies and having a curfew. Just getting grounded

for the weekend by arguing with his parents would be a welcome change of

normal. Not to mention, a girlfriend or two as part of his normal adolescent

development. Breakups, broken hearts and all.

Still, Josh chuckled as he thought about what his dad always said,

normal is only a setting on the dryer. The world he entered five years ago,

the day before his thirteenth birthday, was anything, but normal. To resist it

was useless. Innocent bystander was not an option. Apathy was fatal. At

first, he tried to run, but that had only made things worse. Everything he had

seen, heard, touched, smelled, even tasted, the night of his thirteenth

birthday, well, it freaked him out. He wouldnt blame anyone for running as

far away as humanly possible. Out of state. Another country. Perhaps a small

island in the remotest part of the Pacific. Though he still didnt understand it

all, the past few years had taught him a lot. Hed learned a lot what he could

do and couldnt do. He didnt fight it anymore. He simply accepted what he

had to do. What he was called to do. Josh just took each day as it came and

tried to make the best of it. His new life was the new normal.


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At the moment, there were more important matters to attend to. The

General was all over him, pushing his pudgy body into his lap, forcing his

wrinkled wet nose into the bag, demanding to explore its contents.

Easy there, Josh laughed. Show some manners.

Josh reached into the bag and pulled out a thin red stick wrapped in

plastic.

What do we have here, he teased.

In that instant, if the General could speak or any other dog for that

matter, hed have howled, Oh my goodness! He got me a Slim Jim! I love

Slim Jims! Slim Jim! Slim Jim! Slim Jim!

Of course, the General said none of these things, but at the sight of the

spicy beef stick, his mouth started to drool pools of saliva enough to rival the

flow of the Pecos River. Josh ripped open the package and began to break it

into small pieces.

Go get it, Josh said and tossed a small piece about fifteen feet into

the empty driveway near the far side of the open garage.

In a fast squatty sprint, The General dashed after the Slim Jim.

Suddenly, a shrill, explosive howl shattered the peaceful morning silence

from inside the dark shadows of the garage. A high-pitched, insipid barking

immediately followed as if the desert floor had just ripped open hell itself.


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The barking echoed and reverberated in the walls of the empty garage,

amplifying the screech all the more. Josh dropped the bag, a wave of

adrenaline almost stopping his heart as the hair raised on the back of his

neck. What the

A scurrying black fur ball zipped out of the garage and took its ground

directly over the Slim Jim.

General! Josh screamed. The General braked to a sudden stop, but

not before squaring off in what was now a high noon Western duel.

Josh looked closer at the Generals opponent. By sheer volume, he

was expecting a Rottweiler or at least, a pit bull. Either dog could have eaten

the Slim Jim and the General for breakfast, but the little runt before him was

a small Pomeranian with fierce glaring eyes, pointed nose and an oversized

small-dog ego. Its long black fur as dark as velvet made its diminutive body

look larger than it actually was. Josh covered one ear from the noise as

several adjectives came to mind: Desert rat. Oversized vermin. Spawn of

Satan.

Dancing back and forth on its tiny toy legs, the obnoxious Pomeranian

snapped and barked, moving left, then right with one eye on the Slim Jim,

the other trying to anticipate the Generals next move. The beast bared its

white canines at The General, blood-red gums and all.


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Yap-yap-yap-yap!

The General didnt budge. Nobody was getting his Slim Jim.

Josh had seen many amazing and unbelievable things the past five

years, but he couldnt remember ever hearing such a terrible, horrifying

sound. Though he was a firm believer against all forms of animal cruelty,

Josh suddenly envisioned himself dropkicking the vile little monster in a

perfect forty-yard field goal attempt.

Stand down General!

The General glanced back, wanting to obey, but definitely not wanting

to lose his Slim Jim. The Pomeranian kept yapping. Just wouldnt shut up.

Beau! Came the sound of a gruff voice from inside the garage.

Beauregard Lopez! You get back here!

Josh thought to himself,Beauregard Lopez? Who would name their

dog

An older man, the mechanic it appeared, mid-sixties or so, dressed in

oily coveralls and an old Arizona Diamondbacks cap stepped out of the

garage and winged an empty soda can at the dog. Beauregard Lopez, you

get back here!

The Pomeranian dodged the can, but just long enough to take his eyes

off the Slim Jim. In a flash, the General rushed in and gobbled up the Slim


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Jim. The Pomeranian bared its teeth at The General, then scurried back to

the mechanic. It continued to zip back and forth behind its master, preening

on its toes, taunting the General with its incessant yapping.

Shut up, Beau! The mechanic yelled.

Josh called the General and directed him to sit down at the curb. He

slid the General another bite of Slim Jim and walked over to the mechanic.

Dang dog, the mechanic. Never met a stranger it ever liked. He

tipped his cap up. Not too many people around here on a Saturday.

Nice morning for a walk, Josh replied.

Not too many people around here take early morning walks, the

mechanic countered, pointing at the bag in Joshs hand. Not much of a

breakfast either.

Josh looked at the bag. Just a snack. Were heading into town. Just

got in last night. Hey, you know wouldnt know anyone hiring around

here?

The mechanic raised an eyebrow. Hiring? A lot more firing going on

than hiring. Economy stinks everywhere you go. Cant believe this station

stays open like it does. The old man took a closer look at Josh, How old

you boy?

Josh lowered his eyes, Eighteen.


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Head into town and ask around for La Puerta. Its an old door

company. Owners name is Juan. Friend of mine. Should be able to help you

out. He could use that back of yours.

Josh smiled and nodded his head with appreciation. Thanks.

The old guy waved and started for the garage.

Enjoy that mornin walk of yours. Comon Beauregard!

The Pomeranian followed the mechanic back into the garage, but not

before letting out a snippy sharp bark in the Generals direction.

The General paid no heed with an indifferent look. Whatever.

Josh Brown-Demon Hunter for Hire

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