Page 3 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
Iflung the door open while, behind me, Bob cursed at the impact of the makeshift missile. Not daring to look back, knowing I had the merest of inches of a head start, I grabbed the handles of the metal stairs that led up to the trailer door and started down.
Immediately, the rain slapped against me, pelting me with big, fat drops. The frigid water rose goosebumps everywhere as it sliced through the flimsy t-shirt I wore and sunk into my bones. A biting cold that only grew worse with each frantic step down the steps.
There was no stopping, though. I wouldn’t last long in the cold, but anything was preferable to what awaited me if I stayed. As if to put emphasis on that point, Bob started screaming how he would kill me.
I jumped the last step, feet hitting the soaked grass and sinking in slightly, muddy water pushing up between my toes. My legs absorbed the impact before I pushed off—and fell flat on my face. My bare feet had no purchase on the slick grass.
Thunder cracked, and lightning forked across the sky. A secondary roar drew my attention behind me as Bob appeared in the open doorway. Silhouetted by the darkness outside and the light inside, he was a monster come to life. No longer real, but a demon out to get me, to drag me back to its lair and feast upon my life, sucking me dry before casting me aside to search for a new victim.
Baring my teeth, I decided I would not be that victim. I would not let myself be wasted upon one such as him. Getting to my feet, each raindrop like a tiny needle prick as it slapped against my bare skin, I dug my toes into the grass. This time, I was able to find purchase, and I took off down the nearest row of tents without looking back.
“You can’t run from me!” the demon howled at my back, the voice whipped into a frenzy by the wind as it skirled down the seemingly never-ending row of green army tents, each staked out in perfect precision.
I pumped my arms harder, sending all five-foot-three of my frame into a panicked deer-like run. My hair was soaked already, sticking wildly to my face wherever it landed.
My head start didn’t last long. I’d just reached the nearest road—really a widened path between the tents—when a hand grabbed my shirt and spun me around.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bob sneered.
I slapped him. Hard.
Before he could recover, I hit him with my other hand. This time, I bent my fingers, clawing at his face with all my might.
Bob reeled, howling in pain at the unexpected attack.
Then I was off, darting left then right down the row of tents. Three tents in, I jumped the guidelines keeping the sides of the tent taut and eased my way between them, crossing rows. I couldhear the occupants inside, shuffling around uncomfortably as the rain pounded the tarp-like material overtop.
Living in the tents was not fun, but it was better than being outside, that much was certain. On a night like tonight, with the cold and the rain, it could easily spell a death sentence without proper clothing.
A black t-shirt and leggings were not proper clothing. I had to find somewhere warm and soon.
I emerged from between the tents, looking to my left and planning my next move. When I looked right, I froze. Bob was right there. His back was turned to me as he tried to discover where I’d gone.
Moving slow, I eased back between the tents, sinking onto my haunches, hiding myself just in time. The rain splashed off my shoulder as it poured down from the tent roof, soaking me even more thoroughly. I shivered, teeth clattering against one another. Clamping my jaw shut to prevent the noise, I struggled to think happy thoughts. Warm thoughts.
Easing my head back out, I looked around, but Bob was gone.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I stepped out into the open. Or tried to. My right foot didn’t entirely respond. I clipped the tent guideline, shaking the entire structure.
“Hey!” a muffled voice shouted from inside. “Get off our tent, you idiot! You’re going to knock it down! What are you doing outside anyway?”
Bob immediately reappeared in the intersection. Our eyes locked, and he came for me, murder in his eyes.
I ran for it. Left. Right. Between tents. Doubling back. I used every trick in the book to lose him. Eventually, I wound up at the center of the camp, staring up at the giant obelisk that was theWashington Monument. The base of it was sprayed with graffiti several layers deep. Along one side, garbage was piling up.
A perfect sign of the times, of the impending collapse of our nation upon invasion by a foe we couldn’t defeat.
And also a shelter against the rain.
I resisted the pull to go inside. It was too obvious. Bob would think to search there. There was only one way to escape him for good. I would have to leave the camp itself.
Gritting my teeth, I ran for the gates. They had been set up off Constitution, using the German American Friendship Garden as their basis. I knew I was getting close when I spied the footpath. Kept clear of tents, it wound through the grounds of the monument. Now, I angled for it, aiming to follow it to the gates.
Two feet short of the path, with freedom in sight, my right foot plunged through the layer of water covering the ground, finding a pothole I hadn’t seen. I screamed as my ankle was wrenched badly, and I fell uncontrollably.
My head slammed into the asphalt. Hard.
The world around me spun. I blacked out. I knew I’d blacked out because, when I came around, I was on my back, staring at the sky.
