by Ripley, Ron
It was then that Tom smelled the alcohol on Israel’s breath and saw a teenager sitting on the floor, his back against a pantry door and his left arm wrapped in a heavy, rough bandage.
The boy’s hand was gone.
A glance around the room showed the missing hand to be laying in front of the stove, the flesh smoking slightly.
“Israel,” Tom said. “What is going on? Where’s Jerry Huron?”
“The other police officer?” Israel asked, getting his arm up under the teenager’s left arm.
“Yes.”
“Gone,” Israel said. “Get on that other arm, Tom.”
Tom went over and slipped his own arm under the boy’s uninjured right arm. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“Simple as that,” Israel said. “And as terrible. Dragon came with the boy. I got the boy away from the dragon. The officer showed up, and the dragon took him.”
“What dragon?” Tom asked, helping Israel carry the boy out and into a small sitting room. “And what the hell do you mean, a dragon? Dragons aren’t real, Israel.”
“Lots of things aren’t until they are.” Israel said, guiding the boy to a couch where the Danburys’ German shepherd lay sleeping on one side.
Tom let go as well and stepped back, shaking his head. “This can’t be.”
“Shouldn’t, maybe. Can’t, well, not at all,” Israel said. “It is. That’s all. It just is.” He walked over to a battered easy chair and sat down, motioning for Tom to sit.
Tom did so, sitting on the other end of the couch, casting a concerned eye at the boy. “Jason Johnson?” he asked.
Israel nodded. “Well, Jason at least. Didn’t ask his last name.”
“What about his hand?” Tom asked. “Did you cut that off?”
Israel paled a little as he nodded. “I did. Did you see his hand smoking in the kitchen?”
Now it was Tom’s turn to nod.
“The dragon spit something. Ate right through that boy’s hand, and it was still going. Figured the best thing to do was to take it off. Couldn’t have it work its way into his veins.”
“I can’t believe it’s a dragon, though,” Tom said after a minute, shaking his head. “I just can’t.”
“I can only tell you what I saw, Tom,” Israel said, and Tom noticed that the old farmer’s hands were shaking.
Suddenly Tom straightened up.
The hood of Jerry’s cruiser had been crushed. The windshield had been shattered.
What about the dash-cam? he thought.
Tom stood up. “I’ll be right back in,” he said, “I’ve got to grab something out of Jerry’s cruiser.”
Israel nodded, putting his hands together on his lap to stop the shaking.
Tom left the room and walked back to the kitchen. For the first time, he noticed the cleaver on the side of the sink, the half-finished bottle of vodka. The old iron on the stove. The blood on the floor and the deep cut in the linoleum. The smell of burnt flesh and fresh blood filled his nose, and he paused at the back door.
He had to go out into the barnyard to Jerry’s cruiser.
And if there really was a dragon, was it still out there? If there wasn’t a dragon, well, what the hell was doing this to people?
Tom took a deep breath, focused on the backdoor and brought up the memory of the cruiser’s position because he couldn’t look outside, not yet. He remembered how the dash-cam was connected to the onboard laptop. He had to disconnect the laptop and hope that there was enough power in the laptop’s battery, so he could view it. Tom seriously doubted whether Jerry had remembered to leave the emergency charger in the cruiser.
Taking one last deep breath, Tom opened the door and leaped out and over the stairs. He landed running, and in a few steps, he was in Jerry’s cruiser, pushing through broken safety glass and hitting the quick release snaps holding the laptop in place. As he started to back out of the cruiser, Tom saw a plastic bag from 7-Eleven and in it, among the trail mix and Gatorade bottles, Tom saw the charger.
Grabbing the whole bag, Tom got out of the cruiser, risked a glance around the barnyard and then raced back into the house. He kicked the door shut behind him, locked it because he always locked doors and walked to Israel and Jason.
When Tom walked into the room, Israel opened his eyes, but Jason remained passed out on the couch.
“You found what you wanted?” Israel asked.
“Yes,” Tom answered. He sat down on the couch and put the bag and the laptop on the small coffee table occupying the room’s center. “Do you have an outlet I can use?”
“Here,” Israel said, leaning forward in his chair, his arm outstretched.
Tom handed the wall unit plug to Israel, and the man plugged it in behind the chair.
The charging light came on, and Tom smiled. There was a chance that the laptop would be fine. They were designed to military specifications, but there was always the possibility that a faulty one could slip through.
Tom powered the laptop on, logged on with an administrative password, double clicked on the dashboard camera feed and turned the volume up.
And there was a dragon.
A long creature, maybe seven or eight feet total. Red scales. Teeth and white hair, snarling. Tom watched as it leaped onto the cruiser, smashing in the hood, shattering the windshield.
Turk looked up from his corner of the couch, ears back, as someone or something screamed off camera.
Tom saw Israel run into the frame, grab hold of Jason’s arm and drag him back out of the frame. A moment later the dragon appeared again, this time holding Jerry in his mouth. As Jerry struggled, the dragon shook him. Shook him with the ease of terrier finishing off a rat.
With his own hands shaking, Tom hit stop on the video and closed the laptop.
“Jesus,” Tom whispered. “It is a dragon.”
***
Jerry woke up in total darkness.
His head pounded viciously, and his body ached. He just had the worst dream ever.
He reached out to the left, groping for his light switch—and his hand encountered stone. Cold, hard stone.
Jerry sat up and looked around, realizing that he couldn’t see anything. Not a single thing. He wasn’t in his bed.
Reaching up, Jerry touched his forehead and felt dried blood. The same on his left shoulder. And he discovered that he couldn’t hear anything. Not even the sound of his own breathing, although he could feel the beating of his heart.
Something was wrong.
I’m still dreaming, Jerry thought. That’s all. I’m still dreaming. A lucid dream. I need to figure out how I can wake up.
You’re not dreaming, a voice said coldly. You’re in the Lodge.
The voice came painfully from within Jerry’s own head, and he winced. Jerry twisted around, trying to see something. Anything. He extended his hands to either side, desperately seeking a wall or anything that might be familiar.
Again he found only stone.
I’m hungry, the voice said. But the Lodge is hungrier. I had promised it something young to feast upon, and yet I was forced to return here with you.
No, Jerry thought. This is just a dream. I’m just dreaming.
The voice chuckled in his head. You’re not. You know that you’re not. Put your hands on the floor, Jerry Huron, and feel the beating of the Lodge’s heart.
For some reason, Jerry did so. He wasn’t sure why, perhaps to prove to himself that this was still truly a dream.
Yet when he put his palms down on the floor, the warm wood beneath his hands, he could feel it. A rapid, excited heartbeat, thrilled at the presence of Gerald Anthony Huron and the prospect of eating him for some ungodly meal.
Jerry tried to stand and found that he couldn’t.
The voice laughed harshly. Jerry winced at the sound.
I’m afraid I shook you a little too hard, the voice said. Your spine was damaged, and so your legs don’t work. I’m not sure why you can’t see or hear, but let us be thankful for small bl
essings.
Suddenly something was breathing harshly upon Jerry’s face. The breath stank of rotten meat and felt nearly as hot as steam upon his flesh.
Be thankful, the voice said, that you cannot see this.
Jerry screamed as something bit into his right cheek and slowly started to pull it off of his face.
Chapter Two
What to do about a Dragon
Tom sat in Israel’s kitchen drinking a cup of coffee.
Jason sat at the table as well, looking pale as they waited for the ambulance and the State Police to arrive.
Israel was outside with Turk.
A moment later, the farmer came back in, the German shepherd close behind him.
“They’re coming up the driveway,” Israel said.
Tom and Jason both nodded.
Within a minute, a State Police cruiser and an ambulance came into the barnyard. The cruiser pulled off toward the barn while the ambulance drove right up to the back door. Israel propped the door open as Tom stood up and made his way outside. The two paramedics looked to him, and he simply nodded towards the open door.
As the two men raced into the kitchen, Steve Militello got out of the cruiser. He was a big man, nearly six foot six with the build of a professional linebacker. Steve looked around at the yard, at the battered Enfield cruiser and then over to Tom.
“What the hell happened here, Tom?” Steve asked, extending his hand when Tom reached him.
Tom shook the hand. “A bear, from what Israel Porter and Jason Johnson say.”
“A bear?” Steve asked, looking back at the cruiser. “Was the thing rabid?”
“Don’t know,” Tom said. “I tried to look at the dashcam, but it looks like Jerry forgot to plug the thing into the laptop.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Where is he? I’m going to chew him out for that one.”
“He’s gone,” Tom answered.
Steve looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Tom began, “the bear attacked a teenager cutting through Porter’s yard. Porter came out with a shotgun, fired off some rounds to try to scare it away, and that didn’t work. A couple of minutes later, I’m guessing, is when Jerry showed up. Porter fired some more shots, but he was concerned about hitting the boy.”
Steve nodded. “What happened?”
“Evidently the bear dropped the boy, but not before taking his hand with him. Then it charged at Jerry. Right up and over the cruiser. Jerry didn’t even get any rounds off. Porter says that the bear grabbed ahold of Jerry by the head and dragged him off. We’ll need some trackers up here if we’re going to find him.”
“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath, looking around. “This is a mess, Tom.”
Tom nodded.
“You look done in,” Steve said after a minute. “Listen, I called Henry, and he’s going to come down and cover your shift. State Police will pick up the slack in Enfield for a bit. File your report. Get some rest. Okay?”
Again Tom nodded, sighing. A glance back at the house showed the paramedics in the kitchen, working on getting Jason ready to travel.
“I’ll call the boy’s father,” Steve said gently. “Get out of here, Tom.”
“Okay,” Tom said and walked towards his cruiser.
***
Israel sat alone in his house.
His home was pleasantly quiet after the police officers and paramedics had gone. They’d gone through everything. A State Police Sergeant by the name of Steve Militello said they’d be coming back up the next day to try and track the bear.
Israel had nodded.
Now he sat on the couch, not his usual place, but both he and the dog needed some companionship. Turk lay stretched out with his head in Israel’s lap, and Israel idly scratched the dog’s head between his ears. Turk slept happily while Israel drank a quickly cooling cup of coffee.
When the police first left, Israel had fought the urge to board up the house and seal himself in the old fallout shelter that his father had built in the basement after Israel had been born.
But he didn’t.
Turk, Israel was sure, would let him know if the dragon came close.
The shotgun was nearby, however, and each room had extra shells and weapons ready. He had already seen that they wouldn’t do much—if anything at all—against the dragon, but the rounds might buy him an extra minute or two to get away.
That might be all the time he needed.
Tom would come by later, and they would decide what to do about the dragon.
They needed to find a way to kill the damned thing, and Israel didn’t have the slightest idea how they might go about doing that.
But we’ll figure that out, Israel told himself. He drank the last of his coffee.
Yes, we’ll figure it out.
***
Ka-Riu lay on the floor in front of the fireplace. Within the hearth, a fire blazed cheerfully, in spite of the fact that there was no wood there to burn.
The Lodge was keeping him warm, just as he was keeping the Lodge fed.
With that thought, Ka-Riu looked over to the remains of the police officer he had brought back. The clothes were gone, courtesy of the acid which he expelled from his mouth, but the man’s flesh Ka-Riu had enjoyed. He had torn each piece off carefully, ensuring the maximum amount of blood spilled out onto the floor.
The Lodge had drunk greedily, and the floor showed it. The wide planks shone as though someone had recently finished polishing them. The whole building thrummed with the power of the man’s blood. He had lived for hours. It was painful for Ka-Riu to stretch the death out so long. He had been ravenous and wanted to devour the man swiftly, but he had known how hungry the Lodge was.
Ka-Riu smiled to himself. Extending his long neck out to the bones nearby, he selected one of the man’s femurs and brought it close to him. He bit into the bone, enjoying the crunch between his teeth and the sweet, potent taste of the man’s marrow on his tongue.
Chapter Three
Bait
“You know,” Tom said, sitting in Israel’s recliner with a beer, “I feel like a kid when I say, ‘How do you live without the internet?’”
Israel chuckled, shaking his head. “Hell, Tom, I don’t even have a phone.”
“I know,” Tom replied. “I can’t figure it out.”
Israel shrugged, and Turk wagged his tail a little at the sound of the men’s voices. “Well,” Israel said, “did you find anything?”
“A whole lot of stuff that didn’t make any sort of sense to me,” Tom said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. He didn’t succeed, though. He was tired and stressed out. “I did some digging around, and I found that there’s a professor of Eastern Mythology at Totenkopf College up the road in Lebanon.”
“Eastern Mythology?” Israel asked.
Tom nodded. “Mostly China, but evidently the teacher slips over into Japanese studies, too. I read a few blog posts and articles saying that this professor really knows their stuff, especially in regards to dragons.”
“That’s what we need, then.”
“It is.”
“So,” Israel said, “how are we going to do this? Do you think that a professor is really going to believe we’ve got a dragon here in Enfield?”
“He might.”
“Hmm,” Israel said. “What’s the professor’s name?”
“Dr. Kyle Bennett,” Tom answered.
“Got his number?”
“Yes,” Tom said, “but I was thinking that this might be something to talk to him in person about.”
Israel nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right about that. If you call, the man may well hang up the phone on you.”
“Exactly,” Tom said. He took a pull off of his beer. “So, it’s a trip up to Lebanon a little later. See if I can convince the good professor to come on down and speak with the two of us.”
“How are you going to convince him?”
“Worst case scenario,” Tom said, “I’ll show h
im the video footage from the dash-cam.”
“Ayuh,” Israel said. “That should just about do it.”
“I was thinking of trying something else as well, before I jack-ass over to the college,” Tom said.
“What’s that?”
“What if we try to bait the dragon?” Tom asked.
“With what?” Israel said. “A person? Do you want one of us to hang around outside and ring a dinner bell?”
Tom shook his head. “Of course not.”
“What then?”
“A cow or a sheep. I know that we’ve a few people who’ve complained that they have livestock missing.”
Israel looked at him silently for a moment. “I take it you’d like to use one of my cows.”
“Well,” Tom said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “It seems like it might work.”
“One of my cows.”
“Hell, Israel,” Tom said. “I’ll get you another cow.”
“I like my cows,” the farmer said gruffly. “If you had a dog and I asked you to let me butcher your dog, would you be happy with a ‘I’ll get you another dog’?”
Tom shook his head.
“No,” Israel said. “I didn’t think so.”
After a minute of silence Israel said, “Fine. We’ll put one of my cows out in the pasture, and we’ll both sit out there with shotguns. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Now,” Israel said. “When do you want to do this?”
“Well,” Tom said, “there’s no time like the present.”
“Fair enough,” Israel sighed. “Fair enough.”
***
The air was bitterly cold and the stars shone with a brightness that they were only able to achieve in the chill of a New England autumn.
Tom had his gloves on, ready to cast them off and fire at the dragon as soon as it appeared. Israel was near him, only a few feet away, with Turk beneath an old coat between them.
Tom envied the dog, which seemed to be sleeping soundly while he and Israel shivered.
The cow that Israel had chosen stood out in the center of the pasture, a hundred yards away. The cow was asleep, a thick horse blanket over her and steam rising up out of her nostrils.