Just Before Dawn

by Joshua Hernandez

  No one cared enough to come shut him up.

  After a minute he sat back down, his face red from all the screaming. His cheeks were streaked with tears and even Mike knew he was having a breakdown. “I'm a wanted man, you know,” he said after a while. Biker-Hulk nodded his head knowingly. “Yeah, I found out after I came back to Chicago. A sketch artist had done a pretty good rendering of me in the paper. They called me a madman or something like it. People were asking, 'Why would he just push that man into traffic?' I didn't do that of course. But I had run. And then poof, I disappeared.” He rubbed his hands on his jeans to remove the sweat. Mike looked up at the window and saw still the dark of night. He wondered, how long would it be this time?

  “What about family?” Biker-Hulk asked. Mike looked at him, more than a little bit surprised. Biker-Hulk sounded more like Biker-Dr. Phil than anything else. It tickled Mike and he had to laugh, even just for a moment. “What about them? I've tried more times than I can count to call them. Every time I get nothing but static or wrong numbers. Hell, once I tried to hitch a ride up north to get home.” He laughed, the bitterness like the cold edge of a knife. “We were two miles from my parent's place when I found myself in the back of a cab.” He looked at Biker-Hulk and shook his head as he finished with, “In St. Louis.”

  Mike got up and walked to the bars. He pressed his face up to them as far as it would go and stared at the small window. “I miss the sunlight, you know.” Mike reached out a hand as if trying to open the window. “Sometimes I feel like I'm dying from the thirst of it. I tried getting tied to a tree once.” He didn't have to keep talking for Biker-Hulk to know that it didn't work.

  “What happened to the girl?”

  “Liz?” Mike bit his lip and turned back around. “Tried to see each other every time I showed up. There's this little bakery I always showed up next to. After a while she'd be waiting there for me. I never let her pay for nothing, never let her help in the slightest. I was afraid what might happen. It was good, you know?” He paused. He could feel the lump in his throat getting bigger. “I loved her so much.” He sat back down and looked at Biker-Hulk. “We stayed at this hotel, it's where we always went. I always paid for the rooms, somehow. I had tried to tell her what was going on with me, and I think after a while she believed. But I didn't tell her about all the people that had helped me before.” He swallowed hard and looked at Biker-Hulk. A tear fell and for some reason the big biker began to cry as well. The moment stretched as Biker-Hulk came to a realization that should have remained unspoken. Mike felt his mouth fill with the venom of it. He had to get it out. “She paid for the room one night,” he said at last, his voice choking on the words. Mike broke into tears and brought his legs up before him. He sat that way a long time, just hugging his knees and crying. Biker-Hulk wiped his betraying eyes and looked away.

  “I beat up a guy in Hong Kong once,” Mike laughed. He and Biker-Hulk had passed the point of strange acceptance. Mike liked the guy. He thought it was reciprocated. “He tried to steal my cash as I was paying for some food. Took a crate of chickens and smashed it over his head. Guy looks at me like I'm insane. His buddies came right at me! Next thing I know and I'm in a Bangkok whorehouse and this guy is staring at me as I stand on the bed between him and his, uhm, girl.” Biker-Hulk slaps his knee and laughs. Druggie over on the bench moans and rolls over. Mike laughs and keeps going. “I take off at a sprint and have to hide in this little stream for three hours before I 'jump' again. Next thing I know I'm in some middle-eastern city and there are river leeches on my junk!”

  Both men laugh and Mike sat down, the most at ease he's been in a while. It went silent between them, neither of them knowing what was going to come next. Mike knew he had been here at least four hours. Maybe even five. He could feel the anticipation he always felt before a “jump”. It was like a ball in his guts, hard and unmoving. Sometimes he thought he was going to crap himself when it came on him. Other times he had vomited. Once he even pissed his pants.

  “I guess you'll be gone soon,” Biker-Hulk says, breaking the silence. Mike nods and scratches his head.

  “They'll be looking for you,” Biker-Hulk says.

  “I know,” Mike replies, “but they won't find me. I'll probably be in Vegas or L.A. Or something like that.” Biker-Hulk doesn't ask his next question, but he doesn't have to. Mike answers before it is spoken. “Just tell them I walked out. Through the bars like some kind of ghost. I mean, how are they going to tell you it couldn't happen.”

  “The cameras?”

  Mike waved his hand and laughed. “As soon as it happens it will be like one of those T.V. editing tricks. It will be like I was never here.”

  They both laughed and Mike felt good. No, in fact, he feels great. Mike began to wonder about the power of talking. It had been a couple of years since Liz. He knew he had gone downhill since then. The weed in Amsterdam. The women in Bangkok, Dublin and New Orleans. The alcohol, dammit all, the alcohol. The fights. Hell, he had hit the cop just because the man was in his way. But this biker, this random guy had listened. It had helped so much that Mike thought maybe, just maybe, he could wait it out. Maybe in a few years it would just stop. Maybe.

  Mike looked up at the window and saw a bit of color there. Sun up? Not yet, but coming soon. It was probably near 5, if not after. “What's your name man?” Mike asked Biker-Hulk.

  “Joe,” the monster of a man replied as he extended a hand. Mike took it and something passed between them. It's almost a kind of kinship, two wanderers who know the loneliness of a long road yet to be walked. An understanding. “I've been in and out of here more times than I can count,” Joe laughed. “Ain't never heard anyone tell that kind of story that wasn't higher than a kite.”

  Mike laughed and said, “Ain't never told it all before.” Both went back to their benches, a mutual friendship between them. Mike wondered what might be next but pushed it away. Whether he went to L.A. or Phoenix it didn’t matter. There was no point in asking for apples when he damn well would get lemons. “Thanks man,” Mike said after a moment's contemplation. “I think I was starting to lose it over the guilt and everything, but being able to talk about it...”

  “I get ya' man,” Joe said back. “Sometimes just talking helps.”

  Just like that Mike felt sick. He looked up at Joe the Biker-Hulk and tried not to let his apprehension show. Slowly it dawned on the other man. A fevered, somewhat mad, look crossed Joe the Biker-Hulk's face. Fear and guilt passed over Mike's. Joe had helped him in one of the most profound ways possible. He had been nice enough to listen. Nice enough to ask questions and not judge. He had helped Mike face himself in the mirror and realize that what had become of his life was not his fault.

  In doing so he had sentenced himself.

  “Let me out!” Joe the Biker-Hulk began to scream, jumping up and banging on the bars as hard as he could. Mike didn't blame him in the slightest. How could he? He just looked up at the window, the frosted glass beginning to betray just the slightest hint of sunlight. Joe screamed on behind him. Mike shook with anticipation and guilt, both forming a leaden ball in his stomach that felt like hell on earth. “Please let it come,” he moaned as he stared at the window, “please let the sun come. Just, let it come. Just…let it end…”

  Joe began to scream in pure terror. Pain soon joined terror in sounds no human voice should have been able to make. Mike didn't dare look behind him.

  “Please,” he asked again, watching the window and nothing else, “Please…”

  In the Light

  (A World of Warcraft Story)

  "Ibu!" she called to him from the house. "Ibu come in now. There's a squall blowing in!" The young troll turned from his play and smiled at his mother as she waved to him from the ramshackle house they lived in. "Coming mother!" he called back, his words sounding thick from the tusks already growing at the sides of his mouth. Common was a difficult tongue for him, but his mother was the embodiment of patience and serenity with him at all times. S
he had to have been to have given up many of her ties as a human to adopt a troll and raise him as her own. That had been some twelve years ago, for now he was well into his fifteenth year. His already lanky form practically flew over the sand as he ran towards her. Droplets of rain began to fall, cooling his skin in the humidity of the island air. He loved being outside in this weather, but his mother would not have it. Sometimes she worried too much, but Ibu loved her for it anyway.

  "Did you get the clams I sent you out for Ibu?" she asked him sternly as he shook the moisture from his limbs. He smiled sheepishly at her and looked to the floor at his feet, not giving her the reply she already knew was coming. "By the light, child! I told you we couldn't have chowder unless you ran down and got me some clams. Now we'll just have to have something else." Ibu frowned as his mother rebuked him. It was rare when she did so, and this time he knew he deserved it. She turned and walked away, moving to shut the door as she scolded him. Ibu noticed suddenly that she had stopped her scolding. He turned to look at her and saw her frozen in the doorway. "That's funny," she said quietly as Ibu moved closer to her, "the merchant doesn't come in weather like this."

  Ibu looked over her shoulder and saw the shadow of a boat approaching their island through the rain. He looked at his mother and saw the confusion on her face, and something else he had never seen before. Fear? Her laughing blue eyes narrowed as she watched the approaching boat, and Ibu stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Then his eyes saw what hers did not: two more boats behind the first, all of them with armored men. Panic began to rise in his chest as his mind wondered why they came. Was it for him? The first angry shouts came as the first boat landed. Almost immediately his mother shook several times, wet thumps accompanying each one. "Mother!" he shouted as he pulled her backwards and slammed the door behind him. He picked her up and ran towards the rear exit of the hovel. The door crashed open and someone shouted for him to stop. Ibu ran on. A fiery pain blossomed in his right shoulder and the stumbled, dropping his mother. He reached for her and

  He sat up sharply, biting back a shout of terror as the old wound in his shoulder screamed for attention. Patronus-Ibu rubbed his face with one three fingered hand and turned to look at his campfire. It had all but died down and the night was still dark. Still, morning would be coming in the next couple of hours and he had wanted to be up before then anyway. A questioning chirp made Ibu turn towards his mount with a half-smile. Sandtall, a tallstrider Ibu had tamed and befriended not long after his mother's death, looked at him with its head cocked to one side. Ibu stood and walked over to the bird and rubbed its long neck affectionately. For its part Sandtall clucked softly while trying to nuzzle Ibu's neck, as if it knew the dream he had just experienced.

  "Thank you my friend," Ibu said softly to Sandtall. The tallstrider gave a loud cluck and then turned and began to root in the grass near their camp for something to eat. Ibu smiled and walked to his bedroll and knelt. As he knelt he prayed to the Light for strength and cunning for this day, something he would normally have done at sunrise. But time was of the essence, and there was little of that precious commodity to spare.

  He went about cleaning his camp and eating a meager breakfast mechanically as his mind went over the events that led him here. Here was the Southern Barrens in the shadow of a large hill just south of a continually diminishing oasis. Normally he would have never come to the Barrens. It was too hot for his liking. But the little girl needed help, and Ibu was positive he was the only one that could do it. He would have damned the foolish humans for their constant expansion into places where they were not desired, nor prepared for had he not known it was just their nature as a race.

  When they first started the small village in Ashenvale, just north of the border with the Barrens, Ibu had moved his own dwelling closer to keep watch. They were of a small number, and there were many dangers in this part of the world. Not only were the Horde races more populous in this area, but there were also centaur, small clutches of demons still trying to maintain a foothold on Azeroth, furbolgs, harpies and a hundred other dangers that could present themselves to the unprepared. But after a month or so of watching the small villages growth Ibu felt comfortable that they could take care of themselves.

  A week after he had decided to head back towards the coast the raid came. Ibu wasn't sure what drove him towards the village once more, but he had listened to the instinct. Sandtall made short work of the journey back, and he arrived in time to hear the wails of a human mother as she threw herself towards the forest. Several men held her back as others cleaned up the destruction and helped the wounded and near dead. A raid had been made into the village in the dark of night. Only one thing had been taken: A girl child of about seven years. Worse still, the only experienced trackers and hunters of the village had been hurt, or had to care for others in the village. There was no one to go for the child.

  And so Ibu decided he would. It was the only thing he could do. It was his duty as a Paladin.

  Ibu lay on the floor of the unfinished building, two spear points resting at the hollow of his throat. He was tired, hungry and wounded and yet the soldiers had thrown him to the floor nonetheless. His mother had always told him to head to the unfinished chapel if ever there was trouble, and he had even said the pass phrase in perfect common, yet still they had treated him like...like...like a troll. Ibu closed his eyes, reluctantly accepting his fate.

  "What in the world do you think you are doing!" shouted a gruff voice. Ibu opened his eyes and turned the best he could towards the sound of the voice. It came from a short, stocky man in full plate armor. He had a long beard and a happy, if weathered, face with bright, welcoming eyes of blue. "I heard him shout the pass phrase even from my quarters and I arrive here to find you dolts with a spear at his throat? If anything I want to know how he got the phrase and why a troll is so willingly walking into death's grasp with not so much as a fight?"

  The two soldiers slowly pulled back their weapons, though both seemed ready to skewer Ibu if he so much as coughed. The stocky man walked up Ibu and extended a hand. Ibu slowly took it and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. On standing he saw he was much taller than the man. So, in fact, were the two soldiers that had pinned Ibu down. The man examined Ibu slowly, looking over his scraggly form with a mix of curiosity and pity. Ibu and the man locked eyes for a moment and the man exclaimed, "Ach! You look at me like you're confused now boy! What, have you never seen a dwarf before?"

  A dwarf! No wonder he looked so strange to Ibu. Ibu shook his head in response to the dwarf's jest, afraid to speak aloud.

  "You know," said the dwarf with a growl, "I could have you killed just for being here. Not many around here would mourn one less troll in the world." Ibu said nothing at all, but instead just continued to look into the dwarf's face. The dwarf let out a growl and swept a foot around to the back of Ibu's knees, forcing him to fall onto the floor in a kneeling position. The dwarf grabbed Ibu's hair and pulled his hair back, laying a blade at Ibu's throat with unbelievable speed. Ibu began to mutter the prayer his mother taught him, knowing for sure that this was it.

  The dwarf's eyes narrowed and he bent his head closer to Ibu's face, turning to that he could better hear what Ibu said. He listened for a full minute before releasing the troll with a shocked exclamation. "By the light boy, where'd you learn that!" the dwarf said in surprise.

  "My mother taught me it," Ibu said softly.

  "Your mother? A troll taught you that prayer?" asked the dwarf incredulously.

  "A human woman. My mother. Her name was.." Ibu stopped to think about it. What was her name? She told him once when he was younger. It was a name Ibu had thought beautiful at the time. He thought back with all of his might.

  "Miranda Stargaze!" he finally blurted.

  The dwarf seemed taken aback from the name, as did both soldiers. They muttered to each other quietly, though Ibu heard his mother's name a couple of times in their low conversation. The dwarf turned and glared at the
two soldiers and they went silent. Once again the dwarf extended his hand and helped Ibu to his feet. "So you’re Miranda's child, eh? The one she left us for. Amazing." The dwarf shook his head and rubbed his forehead with a callused hand. "My name is Arguth Axewind, and it looks like I'm to be your caretaker, troll. The least I could do for Miranda." The two soldiers both began to protest but Arguth silenced them with another glare. He turned back to Ibu and said, "Now do you have a name child, or should I just call you troll for as long as I know you?"

  Ibu, shocked at the strange turn of events smiled and pointed at himself saying, "When she found me my mother says I called myself Ibu. She gave me the name Patronus though. So now I wear both."

  "All right Patronus," said Arguth with a smile, "first, let's get you some food and medical attention. Later, we need to talk." Ibu nodded as Arguth put his arm around him and together they walked deeper into the unfinished chapel.

  Arguth’s voice still came back to him at moments like this. The sun was just rising as Ibu led Sandtall along a barely perceptible path through the scrub. Already the heat was astounding. It made the troll hot under his bulky armor, but he had long since learned to ignore something as trivial as being uncomfortable.