Falling (Part Two)

At its broad base, a dark, slowly moving shape leaned against the bulk of the tree and raised a rifle.

Have you read part one? Read it here.

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Joseph stood and walked away, following the trail of acrid yellow mist. He was brazen in his lust for dead dragons.

Leonard slowly rose, picked up his rifle, and followed. Both disappeared into the dark woods under the trail of the ugly monster that scratched a hard line across the light blue sky.

He followed through the soft shade of the sweet gum, pines, and pin oaks, sometimes losing sight of his brother as his stride was slowed by a tangle of briars and poison ivy that ran along the soft floor of the woods.

After 200 yards of struggling under the canopy of leaves, hidden from dragons and alone in the heavy solemnity, a clear light stabbed into the shadows. A broad clearing was ahead. Between the trunks of trees hidden in shadows, flashes of red moved in a slithering arc.

Leonard followed Joseph. He expected him to wait still and silent behind one of the broad tree trunks. Instead, he only paused and shifted the rifle from his shoulder. He looked down as he flipped off the safety and walked into the clear light.

Leonard ran forward. The crisp snap of twigs and breaking vines were magnified in the quiet. Then, all the natural sounds were smothered by the roar of the blood-red dragon and a ferocious screech that swallowed everything in a vertigo of noise.

From the right, a smaller dragon, glinting blue-black like coal, dove at a hateful angle toward Joseph and his raised rifle.

As Leonard passed into the blinding light, a confluence of sounds shook the ground with an unbridled roar like Niagara. The screech, the crack of the rifle, the anguished bellow, and the drenching white noise of wind ran together with the ferocity of a bomb blast.

There was another screech, then the roar of fire, the smell of ash, and burning grass.

Leonard was thrown sideways, landing in dry grass and weeds. Dust flew around him and dug into his face. He hunched, rubbing his eyes, now streaming with dirty, burning tears. They made tracks down his cheeks as they cut through the gray dust.

There was another screech, then the roar of fire, the smell of ash, and burning grass.

Leonard‘s eyes flickered as he desperately tried to focus. He found his rifle and grabbed it, pulling it to his shoulder automatically and sighting down the barrel. He saw only colors and loose shapes.He blinked the tears out of his eyes, squinting to improve his sight.

A black shape was to his left—moving slowly. Directly ahead, a large, red mountain, heavy and still, lay quiet.

He blinked and squinted with the rhythm of a piston, his vision clearing as steadily as sunrise.

The first dragon, immovable and steaming, lay motionless ahead. He spun, blinking quickly. The second dragon, still glinting as the sun hit its sides like a hammer, was slithering and arching its body toward a large sycamore tree on the edge of the clearing.

The contorted limbs grew outward in a panic. Its broad leaves stirred in the waving air. At its broad base, a dark, slowly moving shape leaned against the bulk of the tree and raised a rifle.

The serpent's head began to rise, its body leaning backward, curving into a deadly S that both boys had unwillingly grown accustomed to.

The rifle report snapped in the air, and a spark flashed on the side of the hideous neck. The monster flinched and screeched in anger. Its body rose higher.

“Joseph!“ Leonard screamed. The rifle was raised to his shoulder. His eyes were as clear as creek water now. He looked down the dirty barrel.

The blue-black body snapped toward the unexpected sound, its mouth open and as red as a bullseye. Leonard saw the red and squeezed the trigger. The rifle jumped against his shoulder.

He felt a broad pain, but he stood, readying a second shot and waiting for the fire.

The dragon's head snapped back. Fire meant for him, for Joseph, enveloped the scaly head in a nimbus of yellow and red. Its curving body fell backward and coiled into a heap, twitching in spasms until it lay still.

Shaking from the adrenaline rush, Leonard walked haltingly toward the gnarled sycamore and the shape of his brother leaning against the flaking trunk.

“They’re dead, Joseph. We got two more.” Leonard said through his pain breathing.

Leonard eased down and rested his back against the tree next to Joseph.

Joseph was still. His pants were burned away, and his legs were blistered. Blood matted his hair and dried brown on his forehead and across his face. A few ribs were broken, and the pain made him breathe in shallow gulps.

“No,” he whispered in a soft voice. “You did.”

Reaching over Joseph, Leonard grabbed his brother's rifle, dragged it toward him, searched his pockets for more rounds, and reloaded it. He lay it beside Joseph and moved his hand near the trigger guard. Then, he reloaded his rifle and laid across his lap.

Two funicular piles of ash lay like hills on the grass. Leonard watched the breeze blow away the danger.

Leaning against the heavy trunk of the tree, he looked across the field. He watched the light turn amber and lay heavily on the dark green trees and yellowing grass.

Resting his head against the tree, he listened to Joseph breath and watched the light dim. Then, he slowly closed his eyes and waited for night.