Читать книгу The Dragon Egg Saga - Stephen Lindsay J. - Страница 5

Karl grips Clay’s shoulder just before the boy is about to duck into the broken out frame of the Wal-Mart entrance. He turns, his green eyes barely visible within the darkness of his hood.

“Dude, what? We’re supposed to go in there, right? I mean, isn’t that, like, the end-game of this whole exercise?”

Karl takes a deep breath. “Yeah, but something feels… off.”

Clay shifts his gaze from Melissa to Karl and back again. “So now you’re getting some kind of ESP or something? I thought Melissa was the only one of us sensitive to—”

“It’s not like that.” Karl runs his fingers up the stubble on the side of his face. “It’s more of a—a gut feeling. Look, I just think we need to be careful, that’s all.”

Melissa raises her eyebrows as she looks at Karl.

“Don’t give me that look. What? I’m not allowed to be careful every now and again?”

Melissa smiles in spite of herself. “No, no. Trust me, I welcome it.”

She flexes the fingers of her left hand and turns her wrist over. As she des, a small blue and white flame appears, hovering just above her palm. “Shall I lead the way?”

Clay and Karl step aside letting Melissa lead the way. She is dressed in a dark blue pea coat, jeans, and motorcycle boots, and she barely stands 5 feet 3 inches tall. The blue flame she holds out in front of her casts a soft glow as she enters the darkened building. The light extends out around her for about five feet, but the surrounding darkness feels threatening – almost alive. What the darkness doesn’t feel is empty, and that increases her unease.

She raises the small flame to her lips and half whispers, half blows into it.

“Lucidus.”

At the touch of her breath, the flame grows to twice its original size, now somewhere between the size of a softball and a basketball. The blue tint it first carried is now gone, replaced, instead, with more of that dazzling white. The soft glow surrounding her becomes sharp and wide. The darkness retreats, relegated to far corners and shadows. ow she can see far into the store.

She turns to motion for Karl and Clay to come in, but they are already there, standing right behind her.

“Neat trick,” says Clay.

“Yeah, remind me to bring you the next time I go spelunking.” Karl surveys the visible areas of the store as he speaks, the visible worry on his face betraying the sarcasm in his voice. “As long as we stay on your hip, we’ll be able to navigate around.”

Melissa closes her fingers around the flame, winds up like a pitcher, and throws it out toward the middle of the store.

“Ortus!” she calls as she releases the flame. It flies into the center of the store, rising toward the ceiling as it goes. When it reaches a point roughly one foot from the ceiling, it stops and hovers there.

Melissa brushes her hands together, a look of pride illuminating her face. “There. Now we should all be able to see no matter where we go. But we need to make it quick. The light will only last about 10 minutes. 15, tops.”

Clay slips one of the daggers out of its sheath and spins it absent-mindedly around his hand. “Someone mind telling me why, after all this talk of working as a team, we’re gonna split up?”

Karl, sword held out in front of him, is already making his way up the aisle toward the Men’s Clothing department. “To look for essentials, of course.”

Clay looks over at Melissa as if to say, There he goes again. Aren’t you gonna stop him? But she doesn’t. She shrugs and starts moving down the aisle to her right, past the row of checkout lanes and empty soda coolers.

“Just stay within ear-shot. Move slow, keep your eyes peeled, and see if you can find anything useful.”

Clay tries to swallow, but it sticks like a lump in his throat. “M-Maybe I should a go with you?”

Melissa shrugs, but keeps walking, not bothering to turn around. “Whatever. If you’d rather tag along while I look for tampons, be my guest.”

Clay feels his cheeks flush with color. No, he doesn’t think he’d rather go searching for… those things, thank you very much. He turns to his left and can still make out the outline of Karl as he steps into the jumbled mess that was once the Men’s Department. He unknowingly spins the dagger over his hand again, and then takes off after Karl at a quick jog.

Karl looks at the tangled mess of overturned racks and piles of clothing that once made up the Men’s Department. It looks like a herd of elephants has trampled through it, realized they went the wrong way, turned around and tramped back.. A bunch of Dale Earnhardt hats are scattered atop a jumble of dark green, gray, and maroon sweatpants. About a dozen t-shirts, each proclaiming “If I Cared, I Wouldn’t Be Ignoring You” hang haphazardly from a broken and leaning rack. Ain’t that the truth?, Karl thinks.

He is in the midst of stepping over a pile of $10 carpenter jeans (recently rolled back from $11.99 according to the sign lying next to them) when he freezes. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and his ears strain trying to figure out what it was they’d just heard. He grips his sword, takes a breath in through his nose, and spins around, ready to face whatever monstrosity might be trying to catch him unaware.

Standing there, dagger in hand, is Clay. “What?! What is it?!” Clay whips his head from side to side, expecting to see a massive Bludden, or a squat, sore covered Callip. But there is nothing.

Karl’s shoulders dropand he exhales hard. “Fuck, kid. You trying to get your head cut off, give me a heart attack, or both? You have no idea how quiet you are, do you?”

Clay shrugs, the faintest hint of a smile dancing across his face. He knows that his uncanny ability to move without sound is the reason Mayowen has chosen him. He hold onto it as a source of pride. “I guess not. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well, neither one of us ended up dead, so I guess it’s no harm, no foul.” Karl turns and continues walking through the maze of overturned racks. Clay hangs back for a second longer, using the moment to steal another glance around, and then follows.

“So, I kinda already know what essentials Melissa is lookin’ for. But, um, what about you?” Clay squats down and picks up one of the Dale Earnhardt hats. It is red, black and white with the man’s signature scrawled across the italicized number 3 on the front. “You jonzing for some NASCAR gear or somethin’?”

Karl looks back over his shoulder at Clay. “Not exactly. Although I have to admit I did enjoy watching a race or two on a lazy Sunday afternoon. A good race, some chips, a bowl of fresh, hot salsa, and a cold beer made for one helluva day. But I never much saw the point of all the merchandising. I mean, you end up looking like a goddamn walking Penzoil commercial.”

Clay tosses the hat back onto the pile and stands up. Ahead of him, Karl has reached some shelving units that have been knocked over onto one another. He leans super-sword (as Clay likes to call it) against the downed shelves and rummages through all of the merchandise they’ve deposited onto the floor.

Karl digs through piles upon piles of bags like a treasure hunter in some old movie. With each bag he tosses aside he mutters “Come on, come on.” Suddenly he stops. Both hands grip a bag and he starts to laugh wildly.

Clay thinks he can detect just a hint of madness in that laugh and it makes him nervous. “What is it? What did you find?”

Karl whirls around, still clutching the bag in both hands. A queer, half-mad smile lights up his face. “Underwear!”

“Underwear? You’re jazzed about underwear? Man, you’ve lost it.”

Karl looks at Clay, astonished that the boy doesn’t share in his enthusiasm. “I’m insane?! Clay, these are Hanes boxer briefs! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find new, clean underwear?” He spins back around and snatches up another bag. “Shit, there’s even more than one pack! It’s like Christmas fucking morning!”

Karl piles three additional bags of the boxer briefs into his arms. They’re size 36. Four full inches down from the size 40 he was at this time last year. When he turns back to face Clay, the boy is dismayed to see that the hint of madness has not yet left the man’s face.

“Turn around. Let me get these in your backpack.”

Clay sighs, more than a little annoyed. His backpack has become the catchall for the group. Anything that needed carrying, he always ended up lugging it around. But what could he do? If either Karl or Melissa tried to carry the pack, it would bump and bang around, and every damn Bludden within five miles would hear them coming. So, as usual, he complies with the request and turns around.

Karl unzips the backpack and stuffs the packages of underwear into it. He jams them down, not paying attention to how much force he is using.

Clay winces as the straps bite into his shoulders. “Easy, man! Geez.”

Karl zips the bag shut. “Sorry. It’s just that the prospect of slipping on some fresh new skivvies has me kinda excited.”

Clay rolls his right shoulder, working out a kink. “Skivvies? Gross.”

Karl picks up his sword and looks at Clay. The boy hopes that the mad looking grin still plastered across Karl’s face isn’t going to be permanent.

“What about you, kid? You need anything? I mean, we’re here, so we might as well look.”

Clay thinks about it for a minute, but can’t come up with anything that he needs. But that doesn’t mean he can’t come up with something that he wants.

“I’m sure it’s probably a waste of time, but can we head over to electronics?”

“That works for me.” Overhead, the magical light that Melissa has conjured dims slightly, wavers, and then returns to full strength. “But we better do it quick. I think we’re gonna lose the light soon.”

Karl and Clay carefully pick their way along another debris strewn aisle of the store. To their left is the Children’s Department. While it’s most definitely a mess, it isn’t nearly as looted as other parts of the store. Beyond that is the jewelry counter. This, of course, has been smashed and emptied some time ago. It seems you can count on people not to give a shit about diapers or formula during Armageddon, but cheap watches, cubic zirconium rings, and useless diamond chip necklaces are pilfered right away.

Just ahead of them is Electronics. One quick glance tells Clay everything he needs to know. The area is bare. Empty rows that once held countless CDs and DVDs. Broken glass cases built to hold the Microsoft Xbox and Sony Playstation games. Not a portable DVD player, flat screen TV, or pocket sized digital camera in sight.

“Ah, shit.” Clay shakes his head, disappointed in spite of himself.

Karl puts a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “What were you hoping to find?”

“I dunno. Nothin’, I guess. I mean, part of me was hoping there’d be a Nintendo DS or a PSP left behind, ya know? A little entertainment every now and then would be nice.”

“I can understand that. But don’t give up hope. I’m sure Old Man Winter will have us doing the ol’ sweep and clear on plenty more Wal-Marts. Hell, maybe even a Target or two. Let’s just hope we don’t have to go into any Kmarts.”

Clay laughs. He knows Karl would never dare call Mayowen “Old Man Winter” to the wizard’s face, but the secrecy of the nickname seemed to make it that much funnier. He looks up at Karl, still laughing, and Karl starts to laugh, too.

“What are you two clowns laughing at?”

They look across the barren Electronics department and see Melissa standing on the other side, smiling at them.

“Nothing.” Karl winks at Clay. “Just guy stuff. You wouldn’t understand. Did you find what you were looking for?”

The smile fades from Melissa’s face. “No. Can you believe there isn’t a single box of tampons in this place? Not even a leftover maxi pad! It’s ridiculous.”

“Bummer.” Karl rubs the back of his hand up the stubble on his face again. The gesture is quickly becoming a habit. If he’d been a poker player, it would have been considered a pretty damning tell.

He looks at Clay, who looks back at him as if to say, You know women better than me, man. Karl tries to think of a good way to change the subject, but he doesn’t have to. The light flickers again, going out for a second before flaring back up.

Melissa looks up at the light. “It can’t stay up there any longer. It’s going to go out, and when it does, we’re screwed.”

Karl and Clay move across the Electronics department, subconsciously needing to be closer to her for the moment when the light does go out for good.

“Is there anything you can do?” Clay looks at her, his eyes full of hope.

“I can call it back, dim it to where it was before, and we can just stick close together. That way I can make it last pretty much as long as we need it.” She holds her hand, palm up, out toward the light.

Karl nods. “Sounds good to me. Any light is better than no light.”

“Amen to that.” Clay slips the other dagger out of its sheath, not even realizing he’s doing it. He effortlessly spins them, one in each hand.

“Reditus.” Melissa flicks two finger of her outstretched hand in a come here gesture. The light immediately drops from where it hovers near the ceiling and returns to its place over her palm. She brings it to her lips and gently blows. A soft, blue flame spreads up from the bottom like ink spreading through a glass of water.

“If my focus has to shift, like completely shift off of the light, I’ll lose it.” She looks first at Clay, then at Karl. “So not only do we need to stick close together, but if we should find anything that we, you know, need to fight, you’ll have to take care of it.”

Karl grips his sword in both hands, an unspoken sign of acknowledgement.

“What are the chances there’s still a bunch of shotguns in a case back in Sporting Goods?” She smiles at them, trying to once again lighten the mood.

The corner of Karl’s mouth turns up slightly. “I’m gonna say slim and none, with just a dash of not a fucking chance thrown in for good measure. But since Mayowen is going to want us to sweep this whole place anyway, we might as well go look.”

And with that, the three of them move down the aisle toward the back end of the store.

They pass a section of splintered and smashed desk furniture, moving toward the luggage, and beyond that towels and bedding. Clay suddenly steps ahead, turning around to face Karl and Melissa.

“I’ve got it! I know what I want to try to find!”

Karl puts the business end of his sword on the floor and leans on the handle like a cane. “Sorry, kid. They don’t sell Playboys at Wal-Mart.”

Clay looks at Karl for a moment, confused, and then he shakes his head.

“No, no. Nothing like that. My Dad, see, he use to travel a lot for work before—well, just before. And he never went anywhere without this neck pillow thing he had. He’d bring it on the plane so he could sleep! It was kinda squishy, but soft as heck! I want one of those!” He looks at them, his eyes so full of hopeful enthusiasm that it is impossible to forget he’s only 13. “Do you think they might have one?”

Clay is always so composed and, and so damn mature, Melissa thinks. Her heart aches every time he says or does something that reminds her that he is still just a kid. She forces herself to smile back at him. “Maybe. If they do, it’ll most likely be up ahead with the luggage.”

“Can we check it out? Please!”

Karl picks the sword back up and returns it to its resting place on his right shoulder. “Of course we can.”

Like a flock of birds moving in formation, the small band veers to the left. Toppled over luggage and carry-on bags block the aisle. Karl gives one of the piles a kick, sending bags tumbling back. Clay slips around him on his right and peers down the row. There, hanging precariously from a loose hook, is his prize – a U-shaped neck pillow.

“There’s one down the row a bit! I can see it!” Clay’s voice is filled with something (hope?) that Melissa hasn’t heard in a long, long time. Can a traveler’s neck pillow really be enough to flood this poor boy’s heart with hope?If that was the case, she thinks, things must really be worse than I thought.

Clay runs down the row, side-stepping and hopping over discarded luggage as he goes. He moves with the lightness and fluidity of a deer. The soles of his sneakers squeak against the floor as he stops before the neck pillow. His hands reach out for it, slowly, almost trembling, as if the pillow is a thing of reverence.

Clay turns to face Karl and Melissa and they see large tears welling up in the boy’s eyes. “Sorry, guys. I must seem like such a wuss right n—”

Before Clay can finish his sentence, a loud hissing noise, like a steam pipe blowing open, echoes through the store.

Karl’s guard immediately goes up. He steps out into the aisle, sword held out, ready to ward off whatever creature produced such a sound. He strains his eyes, trying to force them to see further out into the darkness. He thinks he hears some faint clicking, like a woman in high heels walking across the floor, but he can’t be certain.

The soft blue glow envelops him as Melissa moves out into the aisle. Next to her, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his arm and sniffling lightly, is Clay.

Karl glances over at Melissa with his eyes, not daring to turn his head. “Did you hear that?”

Melissa nods slightly. “We all heard that. It wasn’t exactly quiet.”

“Not that. The other thing. The tac, tac, tac noise.”

Melissa shakes her head. “No, but I believe you if you say you heard it. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

Karl takes a deep breath and hears Clay do the same. “Something is down there.” He motions down the aisle with his sword. “And whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s the reason Mayowen insisted we check this place out.”

He peers into the darkness again, listening as hard as he can for a repeat performance of the scuttling sound. Nothing.

Karl turns to face Melissa. “It’s your call, fearless leader. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Melissa tries to swallow, finds that her mouth and throat had gone bone dry, and tries again. This time the swallow goes down with a rough clicking sound. “Ok. Get in tight. Karl, you’re on my right. Clay, you’re on my left. We move slow and stay together. I’m talking within arm’s reach of one another at all times. This isn’t the time or place for any sort of diplomacy or hesitation. You see something, you kill it. Understood?”

Clay and Karl both nod their understanding and step into their positions closer to her. They slowly start to make their way down the aisle, knowing their approaching whatever it was that made both the hissing and skittering sounds. Karl strains his eyes as he passes aisles of toilet paper, paper towels, and cleaning supplies. The blue flame casts just enough light to see two arm lengths down an aisle before the blackness swallows it up. On Clay’s side, he can see piles of towels, torn comforters, and a few of those full body pillows strewn about. Each of them are listening so intently that their temples started to pound.

An outside observer would instantly notice the similarity between how Melissa, Karl, and Clay are moving down the aisle and how Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion had moved down the long hallway on their way to the chamber of the Great and Powerful Oz. All that is missing is to have one of them break off and run, terrified, back the way they’d come. But that doesn’t happen.

With steady, purposeful steps, they near the end of the main aisle. To their left is the Craft department. To their right the main aisle continues down through Toys, Sporting Goods, and eventually Automotive.

They start down the aisle to the right, none of them talking for fear that they might not hear some danger lurking off in the darkness on either side. The idea of missing some barely audible notification of impending danger stuck in each of their minds. None of them wanted to be the blabber-mouth responsible for getting the whole damn group killed. So they press on, silent and steady.

A small, wide aisle juts out on their left, just before the start of the Toy department. Each of them knows that the aisle leads to a back room where the Garden Center is typically set up. Pieces of several smashed gas grills are visible at the aisle’s mouth. A mixture of a low growl and a hiss greets them from the darkness, causing them all to stop. Melissa turns, willing the light to stretch out down the side aisle, toward the source of the sound. As she does, the tac, tac, tac sound that Karl thought he heard before becomes the skittering sound that they now all know they hear. It is the sound of countless pointy legs clamoring to get a foothold on the smooth tile floor, and it raises gooseflesh on all of their arms.

As is usually the case, Karl is the first to comment. “That can’t be fuckin’ good.”

“What do you think it was? Rats, maybe?” Clay is crouched low, a dagger in each hand, nearly disappearing within a shadow stretching along the floor.

“Only if they’re 20 pound rats with wooden, pirate-style peg legs.” Karl looks at Melissa who looks back at him disapprovingly. “Honestly, I don’t know what the hell that could be.”

Karl stares intently at the blue flame hovering over Melissa’s hand. “Wait a second. Is that, like, a real flame? I mean, is it hot?”

Melissa narrows her eyes at him, trying to figure out where he is going with this. “Yeah, but what does that have to do with—”

Before she can finish, Karl takes off running down the aisle toward Sporting Goods. He doesn’t have to go far – only about 10 steps or so, but as far as Melissa could tell, he was once again running off to play the fucking hero. “Dammit, Karl! Get back here!”

Karl doesn’t bother answering her. There isn’t time to debate things right now. Not with that – whatever the hell it was – out there. He spots what he is going after just on the edge of the flame’s glow – an overturned rack of aluminum baseball bats. He bends over, grabs three of the bats and piles them in his arms as if he’s gathering wood for a fire.

Satisfied that he has what he needs, Karl turns and starts back toward Melissa and Clay. “Clay,” he whispers loudly. “I need a sheet. Just one. Do you think you can get one back in Bedding?”

Clay dashes off toward Bedding, more than happy to have even a moment away from that terrible skittering sound. “I’m on it!”

Melissa looks at Karl. “I hope you know what you’re doing. For a second I thought—”

“You thought I was going to ditch you and Clay.” Even in the soft glow of the blue flame, Karl can see color rush to Melissa’s cheeks. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for thinking that. But I didn’t.”

A fresh round of skittering legs across tile causes them both to jump a little.

“I want to kill whatever that is just to stop that damn noise, if for nothing else.” Melissa peers down the dark aisle, both wanting to see what’s causing that noise, and not wanting to see.

Karl grins. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Here you go!”

Melissa’s heart skips a beat at the sudden sound of Clay’s voice. Judging by his labored breathing it is clear that the boy had been running. But once again, his movements didn’t make a sound. Dear lord. He’s like a ghost, Melissa thinks.

Clay holds out a large sheet covered in images of pretty pink flowers and swirling green vines toward Karl.

Karl nods approvingly and chuckles. “Nice work. Although I wouldn’t have pegged you to have such feminine taste in bedding.”

Clay leers are Karl. “I just grabbed the first sheet I could find!”

“Relax, kiddo. Just bustin’ yer chops. Now cut it into thin strips, about four inches wide running the length of the sheet. Think your blades can handle that?”

Clay pulls out one of his daggers and makes quick work of the first strip. Karl takes it and wraps it around the head of one of the bats, knotting it at the end. By the time Karl is finished with the this first one, Clay is holding out two more strips of the sheet.

Karl takes them and gets to work wrapping another bat. “That should be enough. Thanks, kid.”

When Karl finishes wrapping the tops of all three bats, he holds one out in front of himself. “Ok, Mel, if you would be so kind, please move the flame under the sheet.”

Understanding dawns on Melissa’s face. “Torches? You’re making torches?”

“If this works, yeah. I think we’re going to need all the light we can get in there. And besides, in the movies, monsters are always afraid of fire. Maybe we’ll get lucky and have the same thing happen here.”

Melissa slips her open hand under the top of the first bat. The blue flame darkens a bit of the sheet, but it refuses to catch. Karl closes his eyes, an exasperated breath escaping his lips. “Dammit.”

Melissa leans in close to the flame. “Exuro.”

The blue flame blossoms orange and then white, rising as if someone had turned up the burner on a stove. The sheet catches fire almost at once.

Melissa winces in pain and closes her fist, shaking it several times. “Shit, shit!”

Karl bends down, grabbing the other two makeshift torches. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She blows into her first lightly. “Just singed myself. No big deal.”

Karl presses the ends of the unlit torches to the lit one. Both quickly catch fire and start to burn slow and steady. He hands one to Melissa and the other to Clay. “Are we ready?”

The group looks at one another. Melissa nods, followed by Clay. Karl returns their nod with one of his own. He bends down and takes up his sword in his right hand. In his left, he holds up the torch. “Right. I’ll lead. You two stay close behind me. Whatever’s in there, we use the torches to keep it in sight.”

There is no need for them to respond. It is as good a plan as they can expect to have, given the fact that they had no idea what they were dealing with.

Karl steps around the first of the broken grills, swallowing hard. His eyes and ears strain; listening for either the hissing or skittering sounds. He’s hoping to locate them without having to see them first. Experience has proven that if you rely too much on sight, by the time you see what you’re looking for, it’s probably too late.

Ahead of him he can just barely start to make out the open archway leading into the Garden Center. Two steps later, the archway is clearly visible, and that causes Karl to freeze in his tracks.