The Greatest Adventure

CHAPTER 2: PLOT EXPOSITION

So, what's going on exactly? I mean, what exactly are you trying to impart? Look, you don't need to get nasty. It's the kind of question your audience is going to be asking. Fine, go ahead and ignore me, but this is going to bite you in the ass. Just mark my words.

Andrew is still running when he spies the town from a ways off. He can just make out the inhabitants, groggily milling about, as they prepare for the day's activities. But he ignored them all, as he runs along the streets searching frantically, for someone who can help. He finds such a someone down an isolated alley.

The solider is leaning heavily against a wall, his head bobbing every few seconds. It had been a long watch and he's very tired, but with the exhaustion comes frustration. As what he was charged to watch was, nothing, since he'd been assigned a post that is of no consequence, specifically because he had a tendency to fall asleep on his shift.

This made his sergeant very unhappy. So, when it came time to pass out assignments, he jabs his finger at a random location on the map sprawled across his desk.

The sleepy soldier insists he had a sleep disorder, but no one was listening and the sergeant was not hearing it and warned that he either maintained this watch, without falling asleep, or he was out of the town guard, permanently.

Sleep disorder or no, the soldier was going to stay awake the whole time, without fail. He was good for the first few hours, but after that, the will to slumber was stronger than alertness could ever hope to be. And It didn't help that he has a vivid imagination, which creates a tangible object in his mind.

He could see it. Touch it. Feel it. Even taste it. A nice, soft, goose down filled pillow. With a long, thick blanket that wraps him securely and comfortably. It's sheer heaven. There's even a voluptuous, stunning, naked woman, who only wants him. He brushed her aside. It was not sex he wants. It's deep, permeating, wonderful sleep.

The soldier shakes his head violently. The fantasy nearly sent him to slumber. He chastises himself, soundly, because there's something stronger than his desire to sleep. Stronger still than his imaginings. He doesn't want to be drummed out of the guard, which would mean, returning to his uncle's bakeshop. And he hates all things related to cooking.

Suddenly, a noise takes his full attention. He stares down the corridor of winding streets. Something is coming his way and in a hurry. A blur that he's barely able to register with his bleary, bloodshot eyes. As best he can, he musters up his nerve, too take up a defensive position. The spear in his hands feeling like a solid piece of lead, weighing him further and further to the ground.

The blurry figure seems to move at lightning speed. Flashing from one place to another. This seemingly supernatural power, is merely a trick his eyes play upon him, as they continuously flutter open and shut.

The blur materialized in front of him. Shouting, raving incoherently. In a manner his taxed brain's not capable of understanding. Slowly, the image becomes clear in his mind. He can see a boy, his mouth flapping. No sound uttered, until, at last, his ears opened up and he's bombarded by the boy's words.

"Are you listening?!" the boy demands, splaying his hands wide. "Can you even hear me?!"

"I hear just fine," the soldier insists, in a weak voice, as he tries to present a strong front. "And you should stop shouting. You'll wake the dead."

"I don't care who I wake!" the boy shouts, as he advances closer to the beleaguered guard of nothing. "I need help!"

"Help?! I should say so!" the soldier shoots back raising his voice to match the boy's. "Out of bed at this hour. You should have your head examined."

"I don't-" the farm boy continues his protest before being cut short.

The soldier is full of fire and not willing to take any guff from a boy. "You don't?! Damn right you don't!" he snaps at the youth, before softening his tone, while taking hold of his shoulder. "Now, run along back home. Where you belong."

The boy is more than frustrated. The soldier he encountered, has not helped in the slightest. In fact, he only hinders his efforts. Thoroughly irritated, he brushes past the soldier. Hurrying on his way.

"A nice warm bed!" the guard calls after the boy. "That's all you need."

Andre's not listening. Truth be told, there's nothing worth listening to. Just the ramblings of an overly tired man, in desperate need of shuteye.

The boy presses on his search, exiting the alleyways, into the main thoroughfare. He stops dead. The people are not milling about, as he had expected. Rather, they're all gathered together murmuring excitedly. He pushes through the throng, to see what all the hubbub is about.

"Old man?" he says more to himself than anyone else.

Not only is the man in question up and walking on his own two feet, without the slightest indication of wobble or wiggle, but also supports himself, while carrying a bloody, tattered body, draped across his shoulders. If all this weren't enough, he also has a thick rope tied tightly around his waist, which allow him to drag a strange, black mass.

One of the villagers advances and walks beside the laden down, elderly individual. "Old Elric?" he asks, shocked by the sight before him.

"Yes. I know," the laden down senior huffs, as he draws to a halt. "I'm not as feeble as I let on."

"What, uh, what you got there?" the villager asks, uncertain of what possible explanation there could be.

"This? Oh nothing, just farmer O'Dell," Old Elric informs the gathered audience, as he lowers the unconscious body to the ground, after which he points out the black mass behind him. "But it's not him that you should be concerned with. Just look behind me, at what the cat drug in with it."

The villager cautiously approaches the huddled, black mass, which he prods with his foot, causing the thing to wriggle. "What the hell is that!?" he shouts while jumping back, as the thing settles back into stillness.

"When you find out, you let me know," Old Elric returns, as he sets about untying the rope around his waist. "Whew," he exclaims, as the rope hits the ground. "That took me down a couple of waist sizes."

Just then, several soldiers burst through the wall of people. They take hold of the beaten farmer who they carry to the infirmary. Several others hoist the monster and walks away with it. After which, several other soldiers take custody of the old man and leads him away.

"Hey old Elric?" the villager calls out. "Was that really farmer O'Dell?"

Old Elric nods.