The Dragon Egg Saga. Stephen Lindsay J.

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 over at Melissa with his eyes, not daring to turn his head. “Did you hear that?”

      Melissa nods slightly. “We all heard that. It wasn’t exactly quiet.”

      “Not that. The other thing. The tac, tac, tac noise.”

      Melissa shakes her head. “No, but I believe you if you say you heard it. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

      Karl takes a deep breath and hears Clay do the same. “Something is down there.” He motions down the aisle with his sword. “And whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s the reason Mayowen insisted we check this place out.”

      He peers into the darkness again, listening as hard as he can for a repeat performance of the scuttling sound. Nothing.

      Karl turns to face Melissa. “It’s your call, fearless leader. I’ll do whatever you say.”

      Melissa tries to swallow, finds that her mouth and throat had gone bone dry, and tries again. This time the swallow goes down with a rough clicking sound. “Ok. Get in tight. Karl, you’re on my right. Clay, you’re on my left. We move slow and stay together. I’m talking within arm’s reach of one another at all times. This isn’t the time or place for any sort of diplomacy or hesitation. You see something, you kill it. Understood?”

      Clay and Karl both nod their understanding and step into their positions closer to her. They slowly start to make their way down the aisle, knowing their approaching whatever it was that made both the hissing and skittering sounds. Karl strains his eyes as he passes aisles of toilet paper, paper towels, and cleaning supplies. The blue flame casts just enough light to see two arm lengths down an aisle before the blackness swallows it up. On Clay’s side, he can see piles of towels, torn comforters, and a few of those full body pillows strewn about. Each of them are listening so intently that their temples started to pound.

      An outside observer would instantly notice the similarity between how Melissa, Karl, and Clay are moving down the aisle and how Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion had moved down the long hallway on their way to the chamber of the Great and Powerful Oz. All that is missing is to have one of them break off and run, terrified, back the way they’d come. But that doesn’t happen.

      With steady, purposeful steps, they near the end of the main aisle. To their left is the Craft department. To their right the main aisle continues down through Toys, Sporting Goods, and eventually Automotive.

      They start down the aisle to the right, none of them talking for fear that they might not hear some danger lurking off in the darkness on either side. The idea of missing some barely audible notification of impending danger stuck in each of their minds. None of them wanted to be the blabber-mouth responsible for getting the whole damn group killed. So they press on, silent and steady.

      A small, wide aisle juts out on their left, just before the start of the Toy department. Each of them knows that the aisle leads to a back room where the Garden Center is typically set up. Pieces of several smashed gas grills are visible at the aisle’s mouth. A mixture of a low growl and a hiss greets them from the darkness, causing them all to stop. Melissa turns, willing the light to stretch out down the side aisle, toward the source of the sound. As she does, the tac, tac, tac sound that Karl thought he heard before becomes the skittering sound that they now all know they hear. It is the sound of countless pointy legs clamoring to get a foothold on the smooth tile floor, and it raises gooseflesh on all of their arms.

      As is usually the case, Karl is the first to comment. “That can’t be fuckin’ good.”

      “What do you think it was? Rats, maybe?” Clay is crouched low, a dagger in each hand, nearly disappearing within a shadow stretching along the floor.

      “Only if they’re 20 pound rats СКАЧАТЬ