Snapdragon Book II: In the Land of the Dragon

by Brandon Berntson

  Taking up the whole of her vision, the darkness expanded, reaching out with long tendrils of black.

  Sadie? she called. Sadie, are you there?

  She knew her girl was waiting for her in the next world. Mattie loved the idea of having someone she loved to help guide the way…that was something close to Heaven.

  The faint, echoing call of Sadie came again, like a perfect dream. Her life’s history and future were above in the endless black. There, she’d never be sad or lonely again.

  Sighing, she let the darkness come. Cold tendrils of night, arms—

  Sadie’s?

  —reached for her. Mattie took it in, holding her arms up (or at least she imagined her arms reaching up because of the straight jacket), and blackness entered her mouth.

  Mattie closed her eyes.

  Sadie was here.

  But in the next moment, everything changed.

  It wasn’t her little girl at all.

  It was a monster.

  She could not run back the way she’d come. The darkness was…final. Absolute. It reached out and roared with an all consuming darkness that filled her lungs.

  Mattie McCall, finally entered The Land of the Dragon.

  ii

  Jeanie Masterson decided to resolve her life when the kids finally made it home. She did it in one fatal moment, the sign she’d been looking for. When she went to Masie’s house, taking one look at Seth, she’d embraced him hard and held him for so long, she didn’t want to let go.

  “What’s the big idea, tiger?” she’d asked.

  All he could do was shrug.

  Jeanie had cried. She needed to see Seth before she resolved her life. It triggered everything she had to live for.

  The moment, of course, was not fatal to Jeanie Masterson, but to her father. Jeanie would erase Ellishome and the life she had here from memory.

  Not all her memories were bad. She would hold onto the memories of Rheanna Goodwine, Masie, and Seth. She would treasure the times they’d gone to the Thirsty Burst, Warton’s Pond, and the drive-in.

  But her father was another story.

  The fact that he was a drunk and an addict was a blessing of sorts. Once sleep claimed him, he might as well be dead. She could bang all the pots and pans she wanted, turn up the stereo (Bon Jovi perhaps) full blast, and he wouldn’t stir.

  Jeanie waited for the best possible moment when he was under the longest and deepest. Her dreams were about to come true. All she hoped for. The best memory, of all the beautiful ones she had, was the one she was making for herself now.

  On a cold, January night, after eleven pm, Jeanie grabbed several gas cans from the garage. She’d filled them up already, taking several visits to the gas station, all the while continuing to pray for Seth and his friends. If anything sickened her more than her father, it had been the disappearance of all those kids. She’d heard about Kinsey MacKay. Her father had walked into her bedroom and—dumfounded beyond belief—found her sound asleep. She was warm with a fever, and he’d called the doctor. The last Jeanie Masterson had heard was that Kinsey was on the mend.

  Gavin Lolly, however, never made it home.

  Whatever horrors they’d encountered in the mountains, things were the same in Ellishome. People were missing, children disappearing from homes, people moving away. Why couldn’t it take her father, Jeanie wondered? Why couldn’t it make her life easier?

  She would join those who’d moved away, seeking a new life. Her time had come. The weight of the beast had oppressed her for long enough, and she had smelled and tasted the terrible stink of its breath for the last time.

  Rotten bacon, bad onions….

  She had five cans in all. Four, she’d purchased on her own.

  As quietly as possible (just to be safe), with her father snoring in his bedroom, Jeanie hurried through the house, pouring gasoline into every room, including her own…especially her own. She would start at the top of the house and work her way down, empty one, and retrieve another. She smiled as she went about her work, a gleam in her eyes.

  At his bedroom door, Jeanie watched her father as he lay in bed. She smiled and emptied an entire can of gas on the bedroom floor. Earlier that day, when he was at work, she’d nailed his bedroom window shut in case he woke up and tried to escape. His bedroom was across the hallway from hers on the second floor. He’d have to break the glass and jump, but in his virtual coma, Jeanie wasn’t worried.

  She wished she could watch him, set fire to him here in the bedroom, pour gasoline over him, strike the match, watching him burn…but she’d already started.

  Escape was part of her plan. She’d filled the tank in the Mustang already. Her few belongings were in the backseat. The money she’d been saving from the video store job: two-thousand, six hundred, and forty-two dollars, was in an envelope in the glove compartment. Her entire life—and the beginning of it—was in the car.

  Jeanie Masterson had been planning the death of her father, her escape from Ellishome, for fifteen months.

  She emptied the last of the gas cans, circling the house, watching petroleum guzzle into the snow. The last, she emptied on the front porch. The smell made her woozy.

  Her new life was about to begin. She’d be a different girl! The roads ahead proved new and exciting. She thought about going to California, New York City. Opportunities opened doors with the death of her father. Her future was brighter than ever.

  Every girl, she thought, should be able to fulfill such a fantasy. Every girl should feel this good.

  Jeanie exhumed a pack of matches from her coat pocket, and looked at the house for a long time.

  Bliss and heaven, all in one moment. Right here, right now.

  Jeanie struck the match. She watched the flame flicker and die before she tossed it aside. She moved closer to where she’d spilled the last of the gasoline, kneeling before it, and struck another. The flame burst to life. There was no wind. She touched the match to the spill on the porch, and it made a sound like a dragon breathing:

  “WWHHOOOOOOMPH!”

  Jeanie jumped back. Flames erupted quickly in two directions, like demons on fire. A loud, roaring sound filled her ears. She’d left the front door open, so she could watch the flames travel down the hallway and up the stairs to her father’s room.

  Feeling the heat on her face, the night brightened with orange/yellow fire. Flames curled around the house, along the foundation; orange claws licked the eaves…

  Jeanie hurried to her car. The weight of the world, its murk and oppression seemed to lift, and for the first time in her life, she was able to breathe.

  She was free.

  She waited a few seconds more. Under the stars and the night sky, she listened to the steady roar of flames. Smoke curled, blanketing the stars. She did not wait for the fire to engulf the house completely. She did not hear the screams of her father. Could he be sleeping through his own searing death? She hoped he’d wake in time to realize it was too late to escape, to realize why the house was burning.

  “Everything’s okay now, Mom,” Jeanie said, and watched the flames for a few seconds more. Then, she hurried to her car.

  Knowing she’d accomplished and made for herself the best miracle ever, Jeanie Masterson revved the Mustang to life, and pulled away from the curb.

  It was the last time—in all her happy, anonymous years afterwards—that she ever saw the town of Ellishome again.

  iii

  Questions arose, not only with the reappearance of the children, but also with the disappearance of others. Ellishome had suffered in the interim. Many were missing. Others had moved away.

  School and work places tried to stay in session, but the attendance at schools and work places had noticeably dropped. Stores closed down, shutting up their windows for the last time. Houses were vacated. Life was sparse in the town of Ellishome, though there were a few shops along the way determined to keep their doors open. School endeavored to teach and instill knowledge, but through the horror, one thing
remained: Ellishome was still a ghost town with an active ghost. Whatever stalked these streets was present still.

  Frank Allen Bimsley didn’t have the answers, of course. He’d visited each of the children separately and listened to their stories. It was simply too fantastic. Their tales were identical, similar in every way, but Frank had a hard time believing them.

  Or did he?

  He thought of the brougham that day, the looming dead face of Sadie McCall, an entity beneath the clouds. Nothing more than illusion, he told himself, something caused by an over-wrought mind, but he knew better. Something unnatural had come into Ellishome. He only hoped that unnatural thing would soon pack up and go. The kids were home, and their return had to count for something, didn’t it?

  Seth Auburn had gone into his bedroom, come back to the living room—where Frank sat with Masie and their mother—and showed him the black sword. A thousand answers could explain such a thing. They could’ve taken it with them, pretending to slay dragons along the way, while getting Gavin as far away from home as possible. The sword looked real enough to Frank. Seth even told him he could keep it if he wanted to. He didn’t need it anymore. Bimsley shook his head. What was he supposed to do with a black sword?

  Ellishome was the same old story: Sheriff, do you have any idea what’s causing these deaths? Do you think your town is cursed? Is there something in the drinking water?

  Of course it was cursed. What kind of question was that?

  It was on all the news channels. The FBI had made an appearance. The mayor was flummoxed and vowed to have Bimsely’s job. But the town, whatever was happening here, seemed to have the same effect on everyone else. Frank wondered what they’d seen, because they seemed content to let Ellishome fade from existence. Their investigations, their inquiries produced little, and what he did see, made him laugh. One of the FBI men, Donaldson, had even looked scared. So had the mayor, making Frank wonder what they had seen…

  He thought the kids’ leaving was a way to make them feel better, something to clear their consciences, maybe. If the murders and the missing children came to a halt, Bimsley would know they’d succeeded. They were home, and that was the important thing. Except for Gavin Lolly…the boy whose mother reminded him of a witch. Frank did believe Gavin had died along the way as the kids had told him. He’d also learned they were aware of Gavin’s home life and the horrors he’d endured there.

  No child should have to go through that, Bimsley thought. No child at all.

  Of course, he wasn’t happy with the way things turned out. But what could he do? When he did think about it, he was reminded of the brougham…the sword Seth had shown him.

  Strange, he thought, that it was solid black.

  Frank shook his head. Maybe in the future, he’d be able to make some sense of it all. Maybe he’d be able to understand what had really been going on here…what was still going on. For now, he had to get Ellishome up and running again. He didn’t want it to disappear, an empty spot on the map. He wanted to bring people back. It wasn’t a bad town. It had just run into a little problem was all.

  A really big problem, Frank thought.

  He might have to look for another line of work soon.

  Did you really think there was more you could do? This one seemed to take care of itself without you, and sometimes that’s just the way things go.

  As it was, Frank took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He felt better than he had in a long time was the funny thing. He was sitting in his chair in his office overlooking the empty streets on a cold, cloudy, January day in 2005. Sure, the streets were empty, but they would be teeming with life again soon. He was sure of it.

  iv

  Seth awoke in the dark with the blankets over him. It was Wednesday, January 19th. He couldn’t believe they’d been gone as long as they had, that they’d traveled through the mountains for almost four solid months. He’d been right about the loss of time. They’d passed through and beyond an apparent time warp. Ben had guided them, perhaps.

  His mother was talking about moving to the city, but the idea throttled Seth. He tried reassuring her that everything would be all right again, that things would settle down and return to normal once more. They’d be able to enjoy the Thirsty Burst, the drive-in. It was better than living the way they had since August…since Sadie McCall.

  Through the faint, immaterial world of his sleep, Ben spoke to him, but he couldn’t quite make out the words.

  Then, suddenly, it was clear. The real task was about to begin. He was supposed to get up right now, grab his sword, and meet Ben in the meadow.

  Good thing Bimsley didn’t want it, he thought.

  Seth slipped out of bed, the chill in the room making him shiver, putting on his pants, boots, and coat. He pulled the sword out from under his bed.

  Masie and his mother had seemed skeptical about it. They exchanged glances when he related the story. He didn’t know if they believed him. The impression he received was different. Not that they didn’t believe him, but that they were so excited to have him home, they simply didn’t care.

  Seth opened his bedroom door. Suddenly, he stopped, bolted back, and grabbed the blue snapdragon he’d plucked from the fields outside of the palace. He’d kept it in his desk drawer, still perfectly preserved, as if he’d plucked it from the ground only seconds ago. That was the magic of flowers, he supposed. He wasn’t sure what he needed it for, but he knew it was essential.

  Seth exited his room, walking quietly down the hallway—flower in one hand, sword in the other. He walked through the kitchen, and out the back door, hoping Masie and his mother wouldn’t wake. He’d done plenty of mischief while they were sleeping, it seemed.

  The crisp and frosty night surrounded him. The sky was clear, an infinite array of nebulous lights, constellations he recognized now. Seth smiled to himself. Frost touched the mountain brome. Too cold for crickets, the silence was like steel.

  Seth didn’t understand why, or if he had to battle the Dragon alone. Venturing off to a distant land with his friends, he didn’t understand why they, too, wouldn’t be here with him.

  Around the house, however, movement caught his eye.

  It was Kinsey. He’d spoken to her briefly on the phone. She’d suffered a severe case of pneumonia, but had recovered. She was now dressed in winter clothes, a heavy coat, earmuffs, and gloves. “I woke up,” she said. “I knew I had to come. I don’t know why or how. I thought I would be waiting here all night. But when I saw you coming out the door, I knew this was it. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? This is what the journey was all about.”

  Seth looked at her and nodded, not knowing what to say. Other figures came into view now as well, moving around the side of the house.

  “Hi, Seth,” Eddie said. Albert and Malcolm were right behind him, dressed for the cold, January night.

  He wanted to embrace them, ask them how their families were, how they’d reacted to their return.

  “Just thought we’d lend a little support, in case you needed it,” Albert told him.

  Malcolm was strangely quiet, and Seth wondered if he’d traveled the entire way on foot.

  Eddie motioned to the meadow behind them, and Seth turned. Ben stood on the frosty ground, his feet disappearing in the snow. The tiger looked at each of them.

  The moment we’ve been waiting for has arrived. Are you ready?

  Seth didn’t know if he was ready or not, but he nodded.

  Ben turned, walking farther into the meadow. His friends followed, moving through the opening in the chain-link fence.

  You have enough, Seth remembered Ben saying an eternity ago.

  They walked quietly through the darkness and into the meadow with Ben leading the way. No one said a word. Far enough from the lights of town, the darkness surrounded them. The stars were faint pulses of green. A half moon hung in the sky.

  Ben stopped, facing north. Seth hadn’t notice until now, but camouflaged with the night w
as their nemesis, an enemy on horseback roughly thirty yards away. The Dragon was here to fight his final battle.

  You have brought help, I see.

  It was not Ben’s voice, but one of darkness and shadow. The tone was deep, devoid of emotion. Seth, for the first time, was listening to the voice of the Dragon.

  Ben nodded a single time.

  I was never able to defeat him before, Ben said in his mind. But we will now. You’re what I’ve been looking for, Seth. For centuries. Unfortunately, I needed you to get something. For yourself above anything. For you and your friends. I didn’t want to harm you. I wanted to keep you safe, and it was the only thing I could think of that would keep you sane and safe from its corruption for the rest of your lives. It is a powerful element, and one day, you will understand exactly what it is for.

  The tiger told him all he needed to know. Ben and his enemy had been battling for ages, centuries perhaps. Had Ben been the one to lie in the battlefield, wounded, in the end every time? Had it been an even exchange?

  Seth’s conviction of winning suddenly slipped away. Grains of sand dissolved through his fingers. Victory was not a sure thing, he realized then. They could die just as easily as they could win.

  His throat tightened, and Seth turned to his friends, to their cold, rigid faces in the dark. They heeded Ben’s voice, knowing they’d witness the battle, or help Seth in the fight. They were simply added strength, providing the extra push to send the Dragon to an eternal demise.

  Seth turned to Kinsey. He understood what the snapdragon was for. “This is for you,” he said, holding it out to her.

  Kinsey looked at him, as if he knew more about the magical flower than she could comprehend. She shook her head.

  “Go on,” Seth urged. “Take it. It’s important that you have it. Keep it safe. Never let anyone take it from you. Do not let it leave your sight. Whatever you do. Okay? Promise.”

  Seth held the snapdragon, and slowly, Kinsey’s fingers—hesitating for a second—closed around the stem.