Chapter Thirty-Three – The Dragon’s Favorite Strays
Chapter Thirty Three
DAKOTA
As we tie pillows onto my backpack, there’s a rustle in the bushes. I look up just in time to see a trio of deer bounding away.
Aggie immediately points at them. “Look, Murr! Big meat!”
It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment. With a growl low in his throat, Murr flings himself bodily into the air. A split second later, he’s switched to his dragon form and pushes massive claws off the hood of a nearby car. He’s aloft and chasing after the deer before I even have time to breathe.
We all stare up at the big golden dragon in the sky, and Aggie laughs with delight. “Well damn, that’s impressive.”
Dottie just huffs, the sound one of amusement as she folds an old sweatshirt. “You just wanted to see him drop his kilt again.”
Oh dear. I don’t know whether to laugh or be alarmed at how randy Aggie is. My grandmother was never like this, and I suspect Rabbit’s wasn’t either. Aggie seems to be her own person for sure.
“Are we taking this?” Rabbit asks, holding up a styrofoam mannequin head. Atop it is a long wig with flowing blonde curls.
“That one is Shakira,” Aggie says. “We don’t leave her behind. She’s for when I’m feeling frisky.”
“When are you not feeling frisky?” Dottie retorts. “And we don’t need Shakira. You haven’t worn her once.”
“But I like the thought of wearing her,” Aggie says. “You never know.”
“I know.”
There’s a lot more crap in the van than I’d expected. The women made it sound as if they were staying there temporarily, but there’s more blankets and pillows and clothing (and wigs) than can fit in our backpacks. I’m contemplating how we’re going to take it all back with us. “I’m not sure this is all going to make it in one trip,” I say. “Maybe we should just get the necessities today and come back some other time for the rest.”
“How did you guys get this all here anyhow?” Rabbit asks, handing the wig over to Aggie.
“Couple of trunks with wheels and some creative rope work,” Dottie says. “At one point we had our bikes practically set up like rickshaws. You can carry a lot like that.”
“Where are they now?” I ask.
“They broke. I think there’s one over on the far side of the parking lot,” Aggie says with a wave of her hand. “Wheels went flat.”
If it rolls, we might still be able to use it, though. I set down my overloaded pack and head off in the direction Aggie gestured, looking for something that resembles a wheeled cart. I pass by Murr’s discarded kilt and pick it up, smiling as I do. He sure loves to feed us. Straightening, I put my hand to my brow and scan the skies for the big dragon. I see his big form in the distance, dipping low over the area where the bookstore is. He might be feeding the cats before he returns to us, or maybe the deer gave him more of a chase than I realized.
He’s a good guy. I don’t know why I’m always so nervous about…well, everything. It’s just hard to turn off that part of your brain when it’s been wired to be on high alert for so many years.
I move around a broken down car, picking my way through the old parking lot. As I do, I come across another vehicle I hadn’t seen yet, an old ambulance, its tires flat on one side and the entire thing tilted as if sinking into the ground. Weeds have grown up around it and a small tree is sprouting through one wheel well, but that’s not what draws my attention.
It’s the neon green DRAGON LOVER IN BOOKSTORE spraypainted across the entire side of the ambulance.
I stare at it for a moment, reading it once, twice, before my heart starts to pound with anxiety. Taking Murr’s kilt, I move to the painted words and try to rub them off, but they don’t budge.
Shit. Shit, shit, fuck, damn and shit.
Who knows that we’re there, other than the nomad? And how does he know about Murr?
I know exactly what this sign is of course. It’s a call out to anyone in the area that if they’re looking to cause trouble, I’m one to pick on. The worst thing you can call someone in the After is a dragon-lover, or a dragon sympathizer. It means you’re no longer on the side of humanity. It means you’re aligning yourself with the dragons that have set fire to and destroyed our homes for the past seven years. I don’t think enough time has passed with the dragons no longer attacking us for that mentality to change.
“Hey, guys?” I call out. “Can you come look at this?”
The others come over to where I’m standing, and Dottie curses under her breath at the sight of the lettering. “That damn nomad is determined to cause trouble.”
“You think it was him?” I ask, worried.
“I do. He’s done this shit before. His hobby is harassing people,” Dottie says. Aggie is unusually quiet for once, but her expression tells me that she’s just as unhappy about this as Dottie is.
“We can paint over it, Mom,” Rabbit says, moving to my side. “I’m sure we can find some paint cans and cover it up. It’s not a big deal.”
She’s right. There’s no need to panic. We can cover it, like she says. There are bound to be paint cans around somewhere that haven’t turned to glue. I put an arm around my daughter’s shoulders in a hug. “You’re right. Thanks, baby.”
I’m just being overprotective. Panicky.
I glance over at Aggie, who’s still quiet. She’s staring off in the distance, and I follow her gaze.
DRAGON LOVER is painted on another car, with an arrow. Beyond that one, there’s another car that’s been hit by the vivid green spray paint.
Jesus, this guy really is determined.
