Dragon Dreams

Chapter 14: Downpour (2/3)

After a chilling period of calm, the sky opened up. It was so sudden that I almost jumped out of my shorts trying to get them off before they were soaked through. Lightning and thunder rent the air mercilessly as I scurried around trying to keep my stuff dry. The storm grew fierce. I had wedged my belongings deep into the crevice beneath the rocks and placed a few leafy branches on top for extra protection. But I was left exposed. 

My body was curled tightly with my wings shielding me from the blasts of wind. Still, I was pelted with large drops—the sounds were amplified to a roaring hiss all around me as rain fell throughout the forest. I hunkered down and felt the darkness sinking into the earth below. The late afternoon slipped into a rain-dimmed evening as I lost track of time in the storm. Like the ancient trees around me, I resolved to be resilient through the gale. They would bend, but endure.

Something cut through the din and stirred my attention. I peeked out from under a wing, seeing very little though the smoky sheets of rain. "Is there some kind of animal out there?" I wondered, keeping still and focused as I listened through the echoing drizzle. Far away, I heard an unnatural sound. Barely the volume of a whisper drowning in the sea of noise. Every few seconds I would strain to hear it again. No. This was no animal. The wail that reached me chilled my blood. It was a person crying out over and over. The panicked words reached my ears.

"Help! Please, help!"

"I...I hear you!" I roared into the dark. "I'm coming!"

A rush of adrenaline crackled through my body like lightning in the atmosphere. I ran through the pelting drops toward the cries. The voice sounded young and small. As all four of my paws splashed across the earth, I silently wished for anyone else to appear through the dusky haze. Anyone but my friend. When a burst of light revealed the charging silhouette of a small form in front of my eyes, I skidded to a halt as all the sounds and sensations around me were filtered out by my reeling brain.

Wes was soaking wet as he stopped before me. Cutting through the rain, a sickening scent reached my nostrils. Something I couldn't place, something that set me on edge. His dark hair was stuck together in wet strands that hung limply over his face. Then I saw the blood. One more millisecond of lightning seared the horrific image into my brain like the flashbulb of a camera. Everything stood still. Fresh streaks ran down the side of his face, pouring out from the congealed mass of his hair. The blood trailed in braids down the skin of his neck where it met his white shirt. The rain had mixed and dispersed the blood across the fabric, looking like a rosy and macabre watercolor piece. The blood continued to run, altering the colors with every heartbeat. Subtly getting darker.

His shirt clung skin-tight to his narrow, bony body, making me realize just how small and fragile he really was. In the harsh, heavenly light, Wes's features stood out with ghostly contrast. Mouth partly open, his face was slack, not contorted by emotion, but his eyes were wide with fear. So much fear in those eyes. I cocked my head in confusion. What was he doing here? And all that blood. What could have happened to him?

His chest was heaving as he recovered from his sprint. But as he looked at me, he drew in one gasping breath and spoke in a wheezing half-whisper. "Daddy came back."

Thunder assaulted my ears, but it had no effect compared to those words. Time seemed to slow down as I was overwhelmed by my drive to protect. I made a single leap to land in front of the boy and wrapped my forelegs around him, wings too, holding him close to me. Wes sputtered and sobbed, half-choking as he forced out, "Please, Josh. Please help Mommy."

No sooner had he said the words when I crouched down and said, "Get up and hold on." They were practically a growl. Some primal anger swept through me as I tensed up my muscles to run. "Somebody hurt my friend," I thought. "And I am going to make sure they regret it." Every thought was ice-cold. I would keep this boy safe, and my teeth and claws longed to bring justice for my friend. Wes had found the strength to scramble onto my back and throw his arms around my neck. Now I was ready to go.

My acceleration matched the fastest racehorse as I galloped through the dark forest. Adrenaline coursed through every muscle and made me feel like I could race lightning itself. More flashes pierced the blackness around me, each bolt sending crooked shadows dancing in my eyes. I blinked them away, relying on memory and my superior night vision as I tore through the woods, dodging trees and vaulting over rocks and streams as I carried Wes back home. Never before had I run this fast, never had I been so focused on a single purpose: help this boy.

The house slid out of the gray before me, and I never broke stride as I left the forest to cross the yard. I hit the door full speed, splintering the frame with my shoulder and sending it flying open to slam against part of the kitchen counter. I now stood inside the main room and quickly surveyed the damage. It looked like a mob had run amok. The wood floor was covered in broken glass and ceramic, sprinkled here and there with drops of blood. Tables and chairs were upended, remnants of a meal were spread across the floor and up the walls. Pictures hung askew or lay smashed on the floor. A sharp scent of alcohol was on the air, reaching my nose along with the scents of blood and fear. A man stood a few yards away, wearing a torn shirt and sporting a few cuts and scratches on his arms and face. He had been talking through a closed door to another room when I entered, but now stood in dumb silence, looking at me. A tinkling sound occupied the stillness as the dust and debris settled from my explosive entrance.

"Mom!" Wes cried weakly as he slid off my back and down to the floor. "Are you okay?"

The man—who must have been the father—was taking small steps back while still facing me. He had a rough face and eyes that were cold and focused despite the stink of alcohol coming off him. His lips moved as if trying to articulate what he saw before him, but nothing resembling words came out. A white-knuckled hand was wrapped around a bottle that he slowly raised, his arm cocked and ready. As he backed away from the door, another voice came from behind it.

"Wes, baby, I'm okay. I'm here. What's going on out there? Is he finally—" The knob turned, and the words were cut off as a woman opened the door to find me standing there. My first glimpse of the boy's mother showed cuts and bruises on her face, but her expression was remarkably composed as she regarded the scene with more surprise than fear. She looked quickly from Wes to me to the man who now stood several feet away in the middle of the room.

"Bitch! What kinda messed up shit did you give me?" The man spoke now, spitting the words out like venom. "You fucked with the wrong guy, you know that!" In a split second, he flung his bottle at the mother, who had no time move out of the way. Wes shrieked from the floor beside me.

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