Jesse James and the Dragon's Egg

Friends and Monsters

"Looks like rain, Wilt." Rick Watts shielded his eyes from the sun. He was a local preacher. A general nice guy.

"Yeah. Knee's been hurtin' all morning. Bad storm comin'. Bad things brewin'." Wilt Maygurad. He stood next to Rick, unkempt, unshaven. A homeless but harmless old man.

"Think so?"

They stood in front of a small convenience store in Tallahassee, USA. Rick in clean, crisp khakis and polo, Wilt in old, dirty camo. The afternoon sky was black in the west, furious clouds pushed against a gentle wind.

"Yeah." Wilt looked into the coming storm. "I do."

They stood, these two men, quiet, watching nature grow angry. Wind washed over them. It broke the summer heat and swirled little eddies of leaves and debris around their ankles.

"Wilt, do you have a place to sit this out?" Rick, like so many in this little neighborhood, liked Wilt, couldn't help but feel sorry for the man.

"Yeah, Ricky. I got a place."

~

Wind howled. Sun hadn't set yet, but the clouds were so thick it might as well have been midnight. The rain came in heavy sheets as bands of horrific weather blew across the landscape.

Wilt Maygurad walked in that rain. It cascaded down his face and fell, a little stream, off the tip of his nose.

"I see you," he whispered.

The forest was thick. The going was slow. But he knew the way, even in the dark. He'd made this trek, walked this same path, once a year for more years than he could easily recall. This, he thought, may finally be the time.

Lightning cracked around him. Wind howled and screamed. The rain was torrential, but the frail old man was unfazed.

"I'm coming for you, my little friend."

Wilt was old, and his senses were dull. He was great once, powerful, but even this once great and powerful man had succumbed to time. A younger Wilt would have sensed them. A younger Wilt would have heard them. But this old man didn't.

They came behind him. Two giant, hulking beasts. Walking on all fours, they bent the trees as they tracked their prey, a thick smoky fog leaking from their gaping nostrils.

The barn rose from the gloom. Rain tumbled off its old roof in great sheets.

"Are you there, my little friend?"

It was pitch dark in the barn.

"Are you there?"

A man was there, standing in the pitch dark. A younger man, with slick black hair.

"Hello, old man." He was well-dressed, crisp, and clean. He walked with a casual, curious, almost accidental gait. He walked toward Wilt.

"You!"

"Me." The man with the curious gait smiled. "You've lost your touch, old man." He continued to walk toward Wilt. "Ten years ago you would have seen me coming before I even left the estate."

"You'll not get the boy! He's under our protection, you vile, black worm! You'll not get the boy, or the Si Retdir!" Wilt raised a hand. The surrounding air shimmered, but that shimmer quickly faded and died. Wilt looked nearly heartbroken.

"I'll get both."

Lightning crashed. It shook the very foundations of the old barn.

"You see that? They're already here!" Wilt screamed. "They're right behind me!"