Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) (14 page)

“Hey man, go away! Are you getting me? Go away! Go back to sleep!” One of the guards stationed at the gate was trying to talk to Benson, but the man did not even acknowledge him.

“Mister! Go back to bed!” The soldier tried again.

“Okay man. Just wanted to get some fresh air, breathe in the night,” Benson said in a low voice.

The guards stood their post, warily watching the small, bespectacled man walk away.

“He looks wasted to me,” a soldier said.

“Give him a break. I heard he lost his farm. Someone killed all his animals.”

Benson walked slowly back to his tent. He was bunked with the NCOs. He entered the tent and sat for a time on the floor, near his sleeping bag. He sat there, on the earth, oblivious to the soldiers who entered and exited the tent, some greeting him kindly. Finally, his hand, as if of its own volition, groped inside the small knapsack the army had given him. He grabbed a sandwich and got up, leaving the tent.

Benson wandered around the base, finally settling down hidden behind a big rock. The commotion inside the base—soldiers still running around, commands and shouts flying in the air—disturbed him. From behind the rock, the only manmade thing he saw was the wire fence. Benson stared at the sandwich in his hand. It was cheese and lettuce. After a long time he opened his mouth to take a bite, when he heard a small chirp.

Benson blinked and looked around. He saw nothing. None of the base’s floodlights were close to him, and he was in darkness. All he could make out were several trees and the high grasses, swaying gently. Benson turned his attention back to his sandwich and took a bite. The chirp sounded again. Benson looked around again, his face still expressionless, as it had been since he was found wandering the forest four days ago.

Suddenly, a look of puzzlement crossed his face. A head poked out of the grasses, a small, scaled, triangular-shaped head sporting a small crest of spines. The creature’s large eyes stared at Benson while he chewed, and his gaze locked on the small reptilian head.

The tiny head was only about two inches long. The big eyes were transfixed by the sandwich. The colors of the scales changed slowly, turning from a dark green identical to the surrounding grass, to a brighter, more vivid green. Benson blinked. He looked at the sandwich he held and tore off a small piece of bread. However, the movement startled the small creature, and by the time Benson looked up, it was gone.

Benson sighed. The look of puzzlement faded from his face. Benson adjusted his long ponytail and wiped his hands on his overalls. He continued chewing mechanically, staring far ahead. A moment later, the small forlorn squeak sounded again.

Benson blinked, his eyes gradually refocusing. The little reptilian head was a little closer this time. Benson looked into big green eyes with vertical pupils. The eyes stared at the sandwich the man ate and another squeak emerged - a small hungry sound. Long ears, small spikes at their tips, moved rapidly, scanning around. A tiny forked tongue snaked out and tasted the air.

Benson, moving slowly and carefully, tore off a small piece of cheese. He slowly held it towards the creature. The tiny tongue came out again, snaking through the air; the creature seemed entranced by the food. Benson threw it at the creature, several feet ahead. It jumped up and caught the cheese in midair, landing lightly, its tail flicking and then coiling around its body.

Benson thought it was some kind of snake or lizard, only three or four inches long. It tore at the piece of cheese, its small teeth shearing into it.

Suddenly it hissed. It spat out the piece of cheese and threw down the cheese from its claws. The colors of its scales changed from white to green to white again. The tiny reptile’s head rose up and then Benson jumped in surprise. Rearing out of the grass behind the creature, as if alerted by its hissing, were more triangular heads, all staring at Benson.

The creature’s eyes returned to Benson, pleading.

“Look man, I’m like a vegetarian,” Benson said in a small, apologetic voice.

The creature hissed in annoyance, its large eyes on Benson, hungry.

“Okay, man. I’ll try to get you something.”

Benson rose up and walked over to the base. He returned a few moments later, holding a sausage. The lizards were gone. Benson sighed.

“My big German shepherd was also a stray, just like you,” Benson said quietly, his voice full of pain, talking to no one. He went on a moment later. “He came only when I fed the others. It took time, but he learnt to eat out of my hand. And he was the best dog I had before -” Benson stopped talking and closed his eye. Then, he threw a piece of the sausage into the grasses where the lizards were.

The first lizard appeared, catching and coiling around the meat. It bit into the sausage, its tiny sharp teeth cutting through it. A happy squeak emerged from the lizard and its colors changed, a flickering pattern of orange dancing merrily on its tiny scales. Benson looked at the thing while it ate. Its tail was as long as its body. A small triangular ridge at the tip of the tail moved from side to size. The supple tail seemed to have been broken once, a bulge near the tip marking the spot.

Benson looked at it for a time. Something changed in his eyes, some life returning. Benson’s eyes had been dark and puffy behind his heavy-rimmed glasses ever since he saw what remained of his farm, but now some light seemed to enter his eyes. He watched as other heads poked out of the grass. Although the first lizard stood near the base’s wire fence, the others didn’t dare approach. Benson counted ten lizards all together, colors playing on their hides and their eyes fixed on the meat the first lizard was eating.

They seemed to be hungry. Benson tore another piece of sausage, but before he could throw it, some movement in the darkness caught his eye. He looked, uncomprehending. Was something there? Benson thought he saw a ripple in the grass, something wavering, as if a large sheet of glass was moving through the tall, green plants. There was a small amount of light from the base’s spotlights, and Benson saw leaves being moved and squashed, but he could not see what was causing it. He just saw a wave of grass advancing across the meadow in front of the base’s fence.

And then huge jaws appeared. They lunged towards the lizards. The sausage Benson held fell from his nerveless hands as he saw the jaws clamp down, long dagger -like teeth closing and tearing. The jaws, one foot long, dived back into the grass and disappeared, dragging a long disturbance behind them that swam in the meadow till it faded away.

The small lizards squeaked in alarm and disappeared into the grass as their colors changed, becoming various shades of dark green. The creatures seemed to melt away.

Benson stood there, alone, the sausage forgotten at his feet. He stared into the dark grass. He only saw nine lizards escape. The jaws that came out of nowhere had caught one of the tiny creatures.

Day 11 after Earth Barrier Breach.

Owego, Tioga County, New York State, United States. Thursday, 17:56.

“A mighty fine evening that is, lass!” the old cowboy said as Ellis left the diner, carrying a small tray with three mugs of black coffee and several donuts.

“This is from Susie, guys. She said to leave it on the porch when you finish,” Ellis said while she put the tray on the small table near the bench the three old men were using.

She was wearing loose pants and a flowery shirt. Her long black hair was arranged differently today, with several small ponytails. She smiled at the old men and looked at the town. It was about half an hour before sundown and the small town was sleepy, the few street lamps that survived were being turned on, blinking. The tobacco man looked at the tray and frowned.

“Susie said that? Is that God’s own truth?” he demanded.

Ellis laughed.

“Well, you know, she didn’t say exactly that. Actually, she said to make sure you three parasites were off her property,” she said.

“Oh Susie, Susie. She likes us, deep down, she does,” the cowboy said, taking off his hat and putting it down.

He picked up a mug and took a careful sip.

“With Susie, it has to be deep. Way deep,” the tobacco man said.

He started to spit, but looked at Ellis who was standing in front of them and thought the better of it.

“You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Harry!” the cowboy said. He elbowed the third man, who, again, was dozing with his paper in his lap. “Hey, Merv! Wake up! Coffee’s here.”

The sleeper coughed, reflexively raising his paper as if he was reading it and then lowered it, looking suspiciously around.

“I wasn’t sleeping! Just resting my eyes,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, sure, Merv. You’re looking lovely today, girl. Got any special plans?” the old cowboy man asked, a sly twinkle in his eye.

“Why are you badgering the girl? Why shouldn’t she dress up if the fancy takes her?” the tobacco man grumbled.

Ellis laughed again.

“It’s Susie. She arranged for Allan to come and show me the town,” Ellis said.

Suddenly she looked apprehensive.

“How do I look?” she asked the men.

They all stared at her for a moment.

“You’re looking great, girl. You’ll have that Allan in the palm of your hand,” the cowboy said, raising his mug of coffee.

“Trust old Susie. She’ll have the lass married with four children in no time. Mark my words,” the tobacco man said, looking suspiciously at the donuts.

“Who is this Allan anyway? I understand he’s not a local,” Ellis said.

The cowboy looked thoughtful.

“No, he’s not. He came with a bunch of friends after that big norther hit us. Helped the town a lot, he did. Putting this and that back in order. He’s always polite, I can tell you that. He’s a good man,” the cowboy said.

“Bah! He and his friends have this thing they are building in town, a house or something. Maybe it’s a temple. I’m telling you, something ain’t right about him,” the tobacco man said, glaring at the cowboy man.

“Suit yourself, Harry. I know what I know. They broke their backs working in town. That’s more than you and me did,” the cowboy man said to the tobacco man and then he turned back to Ellis.

“Pay this old grumpy dog no attention, lass. I reckon Allan’s a mighty fine young man. Besides, here he is now,” The cowboy man said.

Ellis turned around, seeing Allan coming down the street towards them.

“Well, here goes. Take care, guys,” Ellis said.

She slowly strolled towards Allan. His shirt was cleaner than the one he had worn the last time Ellis saw him. His hair had been combed, the white showing clearly. His back was still somewhat bent with worry or other burdens. He smiled when he saw her. They met and shook hands, both smiling.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” There was a moment of silence. Then Ellis laughed.

“I am told you are a dangerous, mystery man,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you follow storms about, come out of nowhere and fix towns. A real menace to society,” she said. Allan smiled wanly.

“Actually, Susie told me
you
are dangerous. She said you are some kind of martial artist. She told me to try to convince you to stop being foolish and to start acting like a proper woman should,” Allan said.

Ellis grinned.

“Oh, did she now? Well? What do you think are your chances of convincing me?” Ellis said, smiling.

“Very slim, actually. Shall we go? I was ordered to show you this little gem of a town,” Alan said.

“Of course,” Ellis said and turned to go.

Allan blinked.

“Your purse -” he said.

“Oh, I carry everything I need with me,” She said and patted the pockets on the back of her pants.

Allan laughed.

“I see I really have a lot of convincing to do,” he said.

They walked towards East Front Street, walking slowly along the Susquehanna River.

“Are you really a martial artist?” he asked after a time.

“Well, you know. That’s a big word, ‘“martial artist”.’ I’m trying to practice here and there. Staying fit and so on.”

“Okay. How does a nice girl become a martial artist?” Allan asked.

“It’s a long story,” Ellis warned him.

“The evening’s nice and we’re not in any kind of hurry,” Allan said, smiling.

“Okay. Well, it wasn’t really something I planned on doing. When I was a kid, about fifteen years old, my parents were extremely worried about me. I rarely went to school and I used to beat up most of the girls in the neighborhood - and the boys as well. They tried counseling, they tried everything. Nothing worked. Then, they heard from friends of this teacher of martial arts, a Chinese emigrant. My parents were desperate so they sent me to him. I actually found myself looking forward to meeting him. Imagine, learning how to beat up people better. Cool! Anyway, he took one look at me and threw me out the door. I was furious!” Ellis grinned widely.

Several other couples were walking along the river, too. The quaint, red houses somehow matched the trees and the river, creating a spectacular view. Red and orange leaves swirled through the air. The fragrance of the river hung over the path, making the place smell alive and flowering, an odor no town generally possess. There was a sense of freedom, a peaceful air about the town. The black clouds hanging far above did not seem real.

“How dare he not receive me? Me! That was the first time that something wasn’t going the way I wanted it. You see, I never went to school because I got bored. It was too easy. No challenge. But that old man said I couldn’t do it! Well, I decided that I would show him!” Ellis held up her fist.

“I went to him every day for a week and he threw me out every time. One time he even threatened to call the police if I returned. So, naturally, I returned. Finally, he relented. He told me he would prove that I wasn’t fit to learn. He gave me an exercise, a simple one, and told me to come after I’d practiced it every day for a month. It was composed of five postures, and each one had to be held for ten minutes, the whole thing taking fifty minutes. He said that if I didn’t do it every day he would know and I would never learn from him again. So I practiced. Every day. My body ached. Muscles I never knew existed hurt like they were on fire. I never thought that anything could be this difficult. Just holding five postures, one after the other, for ten minutes each,” Ellis said, smiling in remembrance.

“Just thinking back makes some of those pains return. Anyway, I practiced for a month, using the small clock on the wall of our living room. Then I returned to the teacher. He clicked his tongue, asked me to show him the exercise he gave me. He said I should stop since I wasn’t doing it right and I was wasting his time. But he corrected my postures anyway and gave me another exercise with two more postures and told me to come back in another month. These two exercises kept me busy for a whole year. Sometimes, a question would pop up and I would visit him before the month was over. He was very angry on those occasions, but he always answered my questions. He also told me never to come back before the month was over. This happened several times.” Ellis stopped talking for a moment, as a noisy bus passed.

“Then, another year passed, a very long year, and I started to learn the art in full. The standing postures are the basis, everything else uses them as foundation. Needless to say, I stopped beating up people and all my parents had to do was to threaten to stop my lessons with the teacher to make me attend school like a good girl. After a while I started having lessons once a week, then two times a week. Ten years later I was helping him teach classes. I won several free-fight competitions, though the teacher said this doesn’t mean anything. I was also the one answering challenges.”

“Challenges?”

“It’s a martial arts thing. Sometimes, people would come to the teacher, asking to see a demonstration. Other times, students of other martial arts would come, trying to prove theirs was the best. In order to not lose face, someone from the school would have to fight them. I was that someone. I never lost, though those were real fights - no rules or judges. One fighter walks away from the area, the other is carried away on a stretcher.”

“And what did the teacher say to that?” Allan asked. Ellis chortled.

“He always said that in China the challenges were real, with real fighters, not like here. Today, I visit him several times a year and stay a few weeks each time. He is still furious to see me, every time. He says there’s no use in teaching me, I won’t understand it anyway,” she finished, laughing.

Ellis drew a deep breath and narrowed her eyes.

“Hands like that, no like that! Hands touching, touching! Power good, many, many applications!” She piped with a thin reedy voice, grinning widely.

Allan laughed.

“Wow, that’s quite a story,” Allan said. They walked silently for a time. They turned back, this time following the railway circling the town. They passed the Evergreen Cemetery, the peaceful gardens dotted by trees and headstones. The gentle songs of the birds almost drowned out the sounds of civilization.

“So, how did you end up in our little town?” Allan asked.

“Well, I was up in the Big Apple. I teach self-defense classes to women. I figured that with the crime rates in New York, there was bound to be a lot of work for me there. But after a while, something felt wrong. I just didn’t like the atmosphere there. You know, big city life. So, I finally packed my things and took the first bus out of there. Two busses later I ended up here, for quite a simple reason,” Ellis said.

“Oh?”

“I liked the name of the town. Owego. I think it’s cool,” Ellis said, smiling.

They walked on, reaching County Road 38 and turned back into town.

“I’ve heard you have a quite a story yourself,” Ellis finally said, carefully.

“Well, it’s much less impressive then yours,” Allan said.

“Don’t apologize,” Ellis said.

Allan turned to her and saw she was smiling. He returned her smile.

“All right. There’s not really much to say. I was a stockbroker in New York. I was quite successful. I had fast cars and faster women, designer clothes and a fancy apartment. ‘Fast car and faster women.’ I think I’ve heard that said somewhere before,” Allan stopped talking for a moment.

“It seems it was years ago, but it was only less than two weeks ago. Anyway, one evening I was hanging out with some of my friends. Actually, they weren’t friends; they were really people I competed with, trying to own the biggest car, the youngest and most expensive girl. You know. I went out to get a breath of fresh air and I saw a procession of ‘weirdoes’ going by. In New York that’s pretty common, but there seemed to be something different about them. Maybe their conviction. Whatever. One of them offered me to join them and have tea. I was aching for some sort of adventure, something new. I couldn’t even remember the name of my date for the night. I watched these people walking by and I realized that whatever they had, they believed in it. It somehow touched me. I never believed in anything but profits for a long time. So, I grabbed my coat, said farewell to my so-called friends and joined the weirdoes. We went to Central Park and there we sat and talked. Just talked. We talked about how man can find a reason for living not connected with money. For someone whose job for the last five years was to make money, it touched something within me. I followed the group around. They weren’t just talking. They were really doing things. So, I joined the group,” Allan finished.

“Susie told me your group helped put the town back together after a storm hit it,” Ellis said.

“Yeah. It feels good, helping others. It feels good to build something. To work for the common good instead of hoarding money.”

“Helping others?” Ellis asked.

“Yes, we think it’s very important. Supporting people, doing things that help others. We are a community, everyone contributes. It’s a very special feeling, belonging to something like that, bowing my head to something other than Wall Street graphs.”