The Dragon Egg Saga. Stephen Lindsay J.
has conjured dims slightly, wavers, and then returns to full strength. “But we better do it quick. I think we’re gonna lose the light soon.”
Karl and Clay carefully pick their way along another debris strewn aisle of the store. To their left is the Children’s Department. While it’s most definitely a mess, it isn’t nearly as looted as other parts of the store. Beyond that is the jewelry counter. This, of course, has been smashed and emptied some time ago. It seems you can count on people not to give a shit about diapers or formula during Armageddon, but cheap watches, cubic zirconium rings, and useless diamond chip necklaces are pilfered right away.
Just ahead of them is Electronics. One quick glance tells Clay everything he needs to know. The area is bare. Empty rows that once held countless CDs and DVDs. Broken glass cases built to hold the Microsoft Xbox and Sony Playstation games. Not a portable DVD player, flat screen TV, or pocket sized digital camera in sight.
“Ah, shit.” Clay shakes his head, disappointed in spite of himself.
Karl puts a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “What were you hoping to find?”
“I dunno. Nothin’, I guess. I mean, part of me was hoping there’d be a Nintendo DS or a PSP left behind, ya know? A little entertainment every now and then would be nice.”
“I can understand that. But don’t give up hope. I’m sure Old Man Winter will have us doing the ol’ sweep and clear on plenty more Wal-Marts. Hell, maybe even a Target or two. Let’s just hope we don’t have to go into any Kmarts.”
Clay laughs. He knows Karl would never dare call Mayowen “Old Man Winter” to the wizard’s face, but the secrecy of the nickname seemed to make it that much funnier. He looks up at Karl, still laughing, and Karl starts to laugh, too.
“What are you two clowns laughing at?”
They look across the barren Electronics department and see Melissa standing on the other side, smiling at them.
“Nothing.” Karl winks at Clay. “Just guy stuff. You wouldn’t understand. Did you find what you were looking for?”
The smile fades from Melissa’s face. “No. Can you believe there isn’t a single box of tampons in this place? Not even a leftover maxi pad! It’s ridiculous.”
“Bummer.” Karl rubs the back of his hand up the stubble on his face again. The gesture is quickly becoming a habit. If he’d been a poker player, it would have been considered a pretty damning tell.
He looks at Clay, who looks back at him as if to say, You know women better than me, man. Karl tries to think of a good way to change the subject, but he doesn’t have to. The light flickers again, going out for a second before flaring back up.
Melissa looks up at the light. “It can’t stay up there any longer. It’s going to go out, and when it does, we’re screwed.”
Karl and Clay move across the Electronics department, subconsciously needing to be closer to her for the moment when the light does go out for good.
“Is there anything you can do?” Clay looks at her, his eyes full of hope.
“I can call it back, dim it to where it was before, and we can just stick close together. That way I can make it last pretty much as long as we need it.” She holds her hand, palm up, out toward the light.
Karl nods. “Sounds good to me. Any light is better than no light.”
“Amen to that.” Clay slips the other dagger out of its sheath, not even realizing he’s doing it. He effortlessly spins them, one in each hand.
“Reditus.” Melissa flicks two finger of her outstretched hand in a come here gesture. The light immediately drops from where it hovers near the ceiling and returns to its place over her palm. She brings it to her lips and gently blows. A soft, blue flame spreads up from the bottom like ink spreading through a glass of water.
“If my focus has to shift, like completely shift off of the light, I’ll lose it.” She looks first at Clay, then at Karl. “So not only do we need to stick close together, but if we should find anything that we, you know, need to fight, you’ll have to take care of it.”
Karl grips his sword in both hands, an unspoken sign of acknowledgement.
“What are the chances there’s still a bunch of shotguns in a case back in Sporting Goods?” She smiles at them, trying to once again lighten the mood.
The corner of Karl’s mouth turns up slightly. “I’m gonna say slim and none, with just a dash of not a fucking chance thrown in for good measure. But since Mayowen is going to want us to sweep this whole place anyway, we might as well go look.”
And with that, the three of them move down the aisle toward the back end of the store.
They pass a section of splintered and smashed desk furniture, moving toward the luggage, and beyond that towels and bedding. Clay suddenly steps ahead, turning around to face Karl and Melissa.
“I’ve got it! I know what I want to try to find!”
Karl puts the business end of his sword on the floor and leans on the handle like a cane. “Sorry, kid. They don’t sell Playboys at Wal-Mart.”
Clay looks at Karl for a moment, confused, and then he shakes his head.
“No, no. Nothing like that. My Dad, see, he use to travel a lot for work before—well, just before. And he never went anywhere without this neck pillow thing he had. He’d bring it on the plane so he could sleep! It was kinda squishy, but soft as heck! I want one of those!” He looks at them, his eyes so full of hopeful enthusiasm that it is impossible to forget he’s only 13. “Do you think they might have one?”
Clay is always so composed and, and so damn mature, Melissa thinks. Her heart aches every time he says or does something that reminds her that he is still just a kid. She forces herself to smile back at him. “Maybe. If they do, it’ll most likely be up ahead with the luggage.”
“Can we check it out? Please!”
Karl picks the sword back up and returns it to its resting place on his right shoulder. “Of course we can.”
Like a flock of birds moving in formation, the small band veers to the left. Toppled over luggage and carry-on bags block the aisle. Karl gives one of the piles a kick, sending bags tumbling back. Clay slips around him on his right and peers down the row. There, hanging precariously from a loose hook, is his prize – a U-shaped neck pillow.
“There’s one down the row a bit! I can see it!” Clay’s voice is filled with something (hope?) that Melissa hasn’t heard in a long, long time. Can a traveler’s neck pillow really be enough to flood this poor boy’s heart with hope?If that was the case, she thinks, things must really be worse than I thought.
Clay runs down the row, side-stepping and hopping over discarded luggage as he goes. He moves with the lightness and fluidity of a deer. The soles of his sneakers squeak against the floor as he stops before the neck pillow. His hands reach out for it, slowly, almost trembling, as if the pillow is a thing of reverence.
Clay turns to face Karl and Melissa and they see large tears welling up in the boy’s eyes. “Sorry, guys. I must seem like such a wuss right n—”
Before Clay can finish his sentence, a loud hissing noise, like a steam pipe blowing open, echoes through the store.
Karl’s guard immediately goes up. He steps out into the aisle, sword held out, ready to ward off whatever creature produced such a sound. He strains his eyes, trying to force them to see further out into the darkness. He thinks he hears some faint clicking, like a woman in high heels walking across the floor, but he can’t be certain.
The soft blue glow envelops him as Melissa moves out into the aisle. Next to her, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his arm and sniffling lightly, is Clay.
Karl glances