“Come on!”
A nurse flashes past him, pistol in hand, and I’m suddenly aware of the patter of gunfire. Sounds like heavy rain, and it’s coming closer, along with the thunder of the dragon stampede.
“Go, Dad. Get Sam out of here. I’m coming!” I yell.
He looks at the agent, at the keys clutched in my hand. “What are you doing?”
Poles clatter to the ground. Sections of tent collapse. Dad stumbles sideways and collides with a gurney, nearly dropping Sam.
“Get out of here, Melissa!” James urges.
“Sam needs you, Dad. Go!” He doesn’t move. “Momwas right about the dragons. They’re not here to hurt us. And they’re not going to hurt me.”
Dad glances toward the exit. “You know where to meet us?”
When we’re not running dragon shelter drills, we’re learning evac routes. “At Henley’s farm. Bet I’ll beat you there.”
“You better, Melissa Anne. Love you.” Then he and Sam are gone.
With the earth pitching me around, it takes a couple of tries to insert the key into the cuffs securing James’s hand. The latch clicks, the world shifts, I’m thrown sideways onto his lap.
He sets me on my feet, wraps an arm around my waist. Leaning on each other, we crouch-walk forward, the ground shaking every which way. We’re almost to the curtain when I hear the groan behind me.
I hesitate.
Another groan. I glance back. The D-man’s sprawled on a slab of asphalt that’s going crimson with blood. Even with our help, there’s no guarantee he’ll survive. But without it, he doesn’t have a chance.
“Help me get him.”
James tenses. “No.”
“He’ll die if we don’t help him.”
“Good.”
A tremor erupts beneath us, knocking over chairs, a cot, and the EKG machine. I stagger.
James offers me his hand. “Come on, Melissa, before it’s too late.”
“I’m not leaving him.” I maneuver my way around fallen medical equipment, a couple of poles rolling to the earthquake’s chant, and chunks of street poking through the tent floor.
The man’s eyes open when I grab his jacket collar. Panic, confusion, anger cross his face. He reaches for his gun. His eyes dart from me to James, and the panic and confusion disappear.
He pulls his gun in one quick motion.
I kick at his hand, but the earth gives beneath me and I lose my balance.
I collide with something, or maybe it collides with me. I laugh but can’t be sure because I can’t hear, and this makes me laugh more. It suddenly seems quite funny, quite ridiculous, all of this. Terrible, but hilarious how bad things have gone, like one of Sam’s twisted dreams.
Yes, it must be, because this can’t be real. Why would my vision be narrowing on that hot farmboy in the hospital gown? Why would the numbness spreading through my shoulder feel so wonderful? I glance down. Red everywhere.My favorite shirt ruined by blood. Mine? Must be a dream because I think I’d remember being shot.
Now I’m falling and spinning, a drunk ballerina on a shifting tectonic stage. The dream boy catches me in his arms, scoops me up. I blink, and we’re in the remnants of the corridor. Medical equipment everywhere. A couple bodies, too. Everything vibrating to the earth’s rumble.
The tent’s disintegrating, the ground’s splitting into a chasm. Dream boy jumps out of the way as a gurney goes tumbling by. He leaps from perch to precarious perch, somehow dodging the arsenal of growing debris.
And then we’re out in the open, where All-Blacks are retreating toward us, hiding behind broken homes and abandoned vehicles to fire their weapons at the spectacular blue wall emerging from Mason-Kline’s smoky center. The dragons move like a tornado, blind and wild and full of destruction. At the front is Old Man Blue.
“What’s he doing?”
“She’s protecting the children,” James says. His voice sounds a mile away.
I look up at him and see a red dragon swooping toward us. At least a dozen more reds plunge in and out of the clouds. Jets
A nurse flashes past him, pistol in hand, and I’m suddenly aware of the patter of gunfire. Sounds like heavy rain, and it’s coming closer, along with the thunder of the dragon stampede.
“Go, Dad. Get Sam out of here. I’m coming!” I yell.
He looks at the agent, at the keys clutched in my hand. “What are you doing?”
Poles clatter to the ground. Sections of tent collapse. Dad stumbles sideways and collides with a gurney, nearly dropping Sam.
“Get out of here, Melissa!” James urges.
“Sam needs you, Dad. Go!” He doesn’t move. “Momwas right about the dragons. They’re not here to hurt us. And they’re not going to hurt me.”
Dad glances toward the exit. “You know where to meet us?”
When we’re not running dragon shelter drills, we’re learning evac routes. “At Henley’s farm. Bet I’ll beat you there.”
“You better, Melissa Anne. Love you.” Then he and Sam are gone.
With the earth pitching me around, it takes a couple of tries to insert the key into the cuffs securing James’s hand. The latch clicks, the world shifts, I’m thrown sideways onto his lap.
He sets me on my feet, wraps an arm around my waist. Leaning on each other, we crouch-walk forward, the ground shaking every which way. We’re almost to the curtain when I hear the groan behind me.
I hesitate.
Another groan. I glance back. The D-man’s sprawled on a slab of asphalt that’s going crimson with blood. Even with our help, there’s no guarantee he’ll survive. But without it, he doesn’t have a chance.
“Help me get him.”
James tenses. “No.”
“He’ll die if we don’t help him.”
“Good.”
A tremor erupts beneath us, knocking over chairs, a cot, and the EKG machine. I stagger.
James offers me his hand. “Come on, Melissa, before it’s too late.”
“I’m not leaving him.” I maneuver my way around fallen medical equipment, a couple of poles rolling to the earthquake’s chant, and chunks of street poking through the tent floor.
The man’s eyes open when I grab his jacket collar. Panic, confusion, anger cross his face. He reaches for his gun. His eyes dart from me to James, and the panic and confusion disappear.
He pulls his gun in one quick motion.
I kick at his hand, but the earth gives beneath me and I lose my balance.
I collide with something, or maybe it collides with me. I laugh but can’t be sure because I can’t hear, and this makes me laugh more. It suddenly seems quite funny, quite ridiculous, all of this. Terrible, but hilarious how bad things have gone, like one of Sam’s twisted dreams.
Yes, it must be, because this can’t be real. Why would my vision be narrowing on that hot farmboy in the hospital gown? Why would the numbness spreading through my shoulder feel so wonderful? I glance down. Red everywhere.My favorite shirt ruined by blood. Mine? Must be a dream because I think I’d remember being shot.
Now I’m falling and spinning, a drunk ballerina on a shifting tectonic stage. The dream boy catches me in his arms, scoops me up. I blink, and we’re in the remnants of the corridor. Medical equipment everywhere. A couple bodies, too. Everything vibrating to the earth’s rumble.
The tent’s disintegrating, the ground’s splitting into a chasm. Dream boy jumps out of the way as a gurney goes tumbling by. He leaps from perch to precarious perch, somehow dodging the arsenal of growing debris.
And then we’re out in the open, where All-Blacks are retreating toward us, hiding behind broken homes and abandoned vehicles to fire their weapons at the spectacular blue wall emerging from Mason-Kline’s smoky center. The dragons move like a tornado, blind and wild and full of destruction. At the front is Old Man Blue.
“What’s he doing?”
“She’s protecting the children,” James says. His voice sounds a mile away.
I look up at him and see a red dragon swooping toward us. At least a dozen more reds plunge in and out of the clouds. Jets
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