Shadow Dragon

by wade coleman

  I sit low in my seat, my eyes just clearing the dashboard. “Natasha, you’re driving.”

  “Darling, I thought you would never ask.”

  Rounds bounce off the windshield leaving divots, but don’t penetrate. At the last second, the men shooting at us dive for cover. The grill of the Humvee slams into the metal pole, and it bends violently, then scrapes the side of the car as we drive past. Luckily, the pole crashed into the grill and not the windshield. That would have been messy.

  Men scrabble back up and shoot as we fly past. A few rounds get through the missing back window but are blocked by the steel partition.

  I drive, eyes glued to the road.

  Kim releases the clip on her Mac 10 and slides it back in, over and over. “This is the best fucking day of my life!” Her eyes are alight with glee.

  “Life does get better than this!” I reply.

  “Are you two crazy?” Pam yells, eyes wide.

  Feeling giddy from adrenalin, I giggle and then say, “Did you see how that Hellhound went straight for me? It knew I was the driver.”

  “Yeah,” Kim says. “And they work together, one opened the door and the other ripped it off. And that was the second most spooky thing I ever saw is to watch a hound open a door with a… kind of hand.”

  Kim and I laugh hysterically for a few minutes. After I regain my composure, I look over at Pam.

  Her arms are crossed tight, and blood is splattered on her face and dress.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looks straight ahead, nodding a single time.

  Kim puts her arm around her, comforting her as best she can. I pretty sure this is strike two and maybe three.

  After twenty minutes, I clear the redwood forest and begin to slow down. The adrenaline wears off and I notice the soreness creeping into my muscles. I armor protects me from a lot of damage, but it still hurts when a thousand pound beast slams you to the ground.

  Suddenly, my phone rings. Nobody has this number except for Kim. Looking over at her, she picks up my phone and puts it on speaker.

  “Mr. Norwich,” The Baron says. “It seems you have a talent for survival. However, you did cheat by getting outside help.”

  “It seems your hounds don’t exactly follow the rules either, tough guy.”

  He laughs. “In my house, I reserve the right to change the rules.” And the line goes dead.

  Handing the phone to Kim, she takes out the SIM card and breaks it.

  “What kind of people hunt unarmed people with such brutality?” I ask.

  “Sick fucking people,” Kim replies, shaking her head. “Some people don’t feel very much. They’re cold inside, so it takes a lot to warm them up. The thrill of death fills the hollow void in their hearts.”

  “Natasha, what time is it?”

  “The Hong Kong Markets closed ten minutes ago.”

  A piece of tire falls off and makes a clucking noise under the car. The girls look at me. “Don’t worry; the tires are designed to run with a flat. As long as I keep it under forty, they’ll last until we get home.”

  Halfway through the drive home, Pam reaches over and holds Kim’s hand, their shoulders touching.

  Driving through the gate of our subdivision, I notice for the first time in weeks that there’s a man on guard duty. A sign that things are back to normal. The garage door opens when I pull up, and I park inside.

  Stepping out, Mom and Dad emerge. Beverly takes Pam, who is still shaking, to the kitchen.

  “Oh my sweet dear, let me help you,” Mom says. She guides her over to the sink, wets a clean wash rag and wipes the blood and bits of dried-on Hellhound hide off her face.

  “Okay, honey…Pam, look at me,”

  Pam looks up.

  “Pam, sweetheart,” Mom says, “are you all right?”

  Pam nods her head. “Yes, I’m okay now…” And my beautiful date, who’s covered in blood, bursts into tears. Mom gives me a look while she leads her into the bathroom. And suddenly I feel very small.

  Kim is talking to Daniel, her hands excitedly. The two of them carry the hound out of the car, swinging it onto a table. Kim opens its jaws and puts her head in, while Dad takes a picture as though it’s some trophy kill. It seems surreal, Mom comforting Pam in the bathroom while Kim and Dad laugh it up in the garage.

  Kim puts her arm around Dad and me and takes our picture with the Hellhound.

  “How in the fuck do you do it?” Kim walks around me. “Not one spot of blood on your shirt?”

  I hold my finger in the air and strike the pose of Mr. Keller, my sixth-grade math teacher, “That’s because I plan everything to the smallest detail.” I raise my finger higher to make my final point, “Therefore proving mathematically that my clothes are clean because I am a meticulous planner.” I add the final gesture of Mr. Keller; I stand on my tiptoes.

  Dad is friends with Mr. Keller, so he finds it particularly funny. He laughs so hard he throws up a little of his beer. Kim watches and then throws back her head and let’s go a roar like a panther.

  After it dies down, we go outside to survey the Humvee.

  The rear bumper is ripped clean off, so is the back window.

  “It seems the weak spot is where the Hellhound’s claw could grab onto something.”

  “Yeah, next time no windows, even the front,” Dad says. “We’ll use cameras and connect it to your immersion helmet.”

  “Good idea, I’m hitting the shower.” Walking backward, I remind Kim: “You were awesome, as always.”

  She smiles. “Damn right I am.”

  After the shower, I change into shorts and a T-shirt. In the hall, Pam is on the phone.

  “No, everything is fine. I was crying because I had a very long day, and I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?” Her voice is obviously strained.

  Pam looks at me and our eyes meet. She’s dressed in Mom’s sweatpants and a scrub top. “I have to go…I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hangs up and puts the phone away.

  “Everything okay?”

  She nods.

  “You can sleep in my room if you want.”

  I show her my room. She shuts the door and slaps my face. “Its teeth were inches from my face, Hermes!’”

  “It was scary, but Kim had it under control. She’s good in a pinch.”

  “That bloodthirsty bitch encourages your reckless behavior.”

  I take a step back, look down and smile. “Yeah…Kim’s got the bloodlust, all right.” I look Pam in the eye. “And we’re both danger junkies. When I meet the Baron my crap detector when off, that tells me this guy is a piece of shit. When he said “fox hunt” I got a bad feeling. Probably because Natasha overheard a conversation about the delivery of hellhounds. I can’t let something like that go. I have to do something about that.”

  I grab my vest hanging on a hook by the door. Inside a plastic bag is a set of goggles.

  “The Baron’s men, if you can call them that, were hunting people on giant spiders with Hellhounds to track and kill their prey.” I hand her the plastic bag with the video glasses inside. “This belongs to the man riding the spider. On it is a recording of a woman being killed by a Hellhound on the Jason Baron’s land.” I take out my set of goggles. “These are mine. On it is the Baron’s voice directing the fox hunt.”

  I put the two video devices on my desk and stand next to her.

  She looks at me. Under her anger, she’s scared and hurt, and with good reason.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, and then take out a flash-drive, plug it into the goggles and download the video file. I do the same with the video on the video glasses. I close the flash-drive around Pam’s hand. “The Jason Baron is a vindictive man. That’s why I’m giving you the only copy. If he can’t find me, he might take it out on you.”

  I pause for a second to let all this sink in. “Is there anything else before I say good night?”

  She shakes her head no, and walk to the door.

  “Wait,” Pam say
s.

  “I understand your motivation, thank-you for that honest answer. It’s not you motives that I’m questioning, it’s your judgment. For example, perhaps I should have been wearing three layers of armor.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea. And I see your point. Sorry.”

  “I accept your apology. However, this is strike two.”

  I nod.

  She points to the open door. “Go.”

  I say nothing and leave.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Prologue

  I’m back at Casablanca, an hour past closing time, the chairs put up on the tables. Someone is playing “Closer to the Heart,” on the piano. I walk towards the music, and sitting at the piano is Rick himself.

  “I didn’t know you could play the piano,” I say.

  “Kid, this isn’t Casablanca, and this isn’t a dream.”

  Suddenly, I remember being here. “Oh yeah, that’s right…so, why aren’t we drinking?”

  “Kid, this is a place of symbols,” Bogart says. “Figure it out.”

  He stands up, lights a cigarette and leans against the piano. He blows the smoke towards a woman in a traditional Japanese red and black dress. She’s sitting at the bar.

  He puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me to her. She’s drinking tea and Bogart pours me a bourbon.

  The woman’s face is feline but human, her skin the sky orange of the cold world between shadows, her eyes a void of black.

  “Kukan?” I say, in a whisper.

  “Yes,” she replies and sips her tea.

  I sip my drink as well. “How is it possible that we’re having this conversation?”

  “Living beings are connected,” she says. “And the connections run deep for souls who live in the same solar system. Our planet is the largest moon of Saturn. You call it Titan.”

  We sip our drinks.

  “You are a creature of improbability,” she says. “Your luck is extraordinary.”

  The blue tea calms my mind. “It’s not luck. It’s more… choosing between probabilities.”

  “I’m glad you brought that up.”

  Bogart hands her a glass of red wine, and she says, “I’m looking for a point man. Someone who can…”

  “I know what a point man is,” I say. “So, you want me to keep risking my life for you?”

  She sips her wine and looks at me. “Your people are making mischief throughout the solar system,” she tells me. “It has opened doors closed for millions of years and awakened the sleeping dragon in your DNA.”

  Kukan stands up, her dress a radiant red and black Kimono. Her hair is held in a bun with chopsticks. She holds out her hand.

  I stand, smile, and take her hand. “You’re in luck,” I say, “I just happen to be a sucker for beautiful women and an adrenaline junkie.”

  We sit back down, and I have my second drink. “What do we do now?”

  “Your implant is making it difficult to communicate with you,” she says. “These are ideal conditions, and I’m barely reaching you.

  “Her name is Natasha, and we’re still getting acquainted,” I reply.

  “Yes, I understand now,” she says. “But you need to remember your dreams.”

  She puts the left eye of the Kukan on the table, a ten-karat ruby. Pointing to it, she says, “This device will help you remember.”

  With one hand she pins my head to the tabletop and says, “Normally, we would not do this. There are strict rules about interfering with free will. We chose you because of what you said to Kim, ‘It never occurred to you to leave a wounded man behind.’”

  With her other hand, Kukan plucks out my eye, laying it on the table. “We share a common goal…to relieve suffering.”

  “She says while removing my eyeball,” I reply.

  With my good eye, I see the Kukan pick up the ruby and push it into the back of my eye socket and into my skull. It hurts, but not as much as when Natasha made her way into my head. Her fingers dig deep into my brain. Once she pulls her fingers out, she licks my blood off them. Then carefully, she puts my eye back in its socket.

  “I hope the irony is not lost when I tell you that was very painful.”

  Kukan smiles, unpins from her breast a twig with cherry blossoms attached, puts it in the palm of my hand and then closes it. “Since you like to grow things, you might like to nurture this.”

  I try to say something, but I can’t lift my head off the table.

  “Rest now,” she says. “From now on… talk to Natasha and record your dreams. It will help you remember.”

  * * *

  It’s sunrise when I wake, and there’s dried blood on my pillow. Also, there is a cherry blossom twig in my hand. I remember, Kukan gave this to me. I sit up in bed and look at the small branch with a few leaves and cherry blossoms attached. I know this is an extraordinary moment, but with everything that happened in the last few weeks, it seems rather ordinary.

  I get a cup from the kitchen, fill it with water and put the blossom inside, then place it in the kitchen bay window with the rest of the plants. I’ll find the right pot for it later today.

  Going back to the bathroom, I clean up the crusty dried blood in the corner of my left eye. While dressing, I dictate my dream to Natasha, telling her to remind me of it before I go to bed later. I dress, go the bathroom and retrieve the box hidden under the loose tile. The last ruby is missing. At least no one will ever find it while I’m alive. I smile at the thought of my corpse being dug up, and the ruby found in my skull.

  My phone beeps with a Broadmoor Shopper update. The article is by Pam Fields.

  I sit in the backyard with my feet up, my tablet on my lap. Pam posted a critique of the party: “The Baron’s party was a bore. The decorations were crude and the food overcooked.” And on and on about more blasé observations and the like. She finishes her review with this: “The after-party fox hunt was trite and what you would expect from a man like the Baron.”

  Attached is the video of the woman being slain by the Hellhound, ending right after the beast howls. The article has over two million hits.

  I’m the first one up, so I make breakfast: sausage, hash browns, and eggs. I sit down to eat and read the morning paper on my tablet while my parents come into the kitchen.

  “Check this out. The LA Times picked up Pam’s review of the Baron’s party.”

  Mom and Dad watch the video of the Hellhound killing the woman while they eat. That’s one thing about Mom and Dad…they’re both army veterans and not squeamish when it comes to blood and gore.

  “Congratulations, Son,” Dad says. “You always wanted to be a journalist. Now your video has been seen by twenty million people.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Too bad you can’t tell anyone.”

  Today the Fields are coming over to divide up the profits, so the day is spent preparing for our evening meal with the Fields.

  At five-thirty, Dad puts the ribs on the grill; Mom works on the salad and baked potatoes. I set the backyard table for six and open two bottles of wine to let them breathe. Around six, the Fields arrive.

  They get out of their car, and we greet them on the steps. Dad and Captain Fields head to the backyard. Daniel turns the ribs and drinks a beer with the captain. The girls head to the kitchen and pour a bottle of wine. Pam gives me a sideways look, but I see it’s time for the women to bond, so I leave them alone.

  Heading to the garden, I notice the next batch of tomatoes is almost ready for harvest. I water for half an hour, and Dad puts the ribs at the center of the table, a bowl for bones on each side. The girls return with a salad and baked potatoes.

  Once we’re all seated, Mom says grace, and we all dig in. Pam eats the ribs with her fingers, wiping them frequently on a napkin. We pick the ribs clean, leaving nothing but a pile of bones, and I think of Teshi. He likes bones with lots of marrow. He would scold me for being wasteful.

  After the meal is over, the table is cleared, and Mom makes real coffee and serves chocolate cake.


  Kim shows up just in time for dessert, wearing a Hellhound tooth for a necklace. After getting up, I run my finger across the canine tooth, and it cuts my skin, drawing blood.

  “Ouch,” I stick my finger in my mouth.

  Kim gives me a hug and smiles. “They wouldn’t let me keep the Hellhound; they needed it for research.”

  I smile back. “I’ll get you another one.”

  I notice Pam watching us out of the corner of her eye. Pam and her family sit on one side of the table, Kim, and Mom on the other. Dad is at the head of the table. Sitting back down, I take a bite of cake, real chocolate, and chase it with coffee.

  “The deal is a two-way split of the Baron’s money. My share, which is divided with my team and Pam’s share, which she splits with her team.”

  Everyone nods so I continue.

  “I stole a little over twenty million credits. And put it in the stock market.”

  Daniel stands up and shouts, “You what!”

  “Honey,” Mom says, and motions for Daniel to sit down. “We all want to know what’s going on.”

  I smile. I did that on purpose. I like to act and be on stage. So I start the story with a cliff-hanger.

  I look at my tablet computer for emphasis. “After stealing twenty million, Natasha routed the credits through dozens of accounts and erased the trail. One minute before the Hong Kong markets closed, I bet all the money that the price of Blue Algae Inc. would go down.”

  Everyone at the table is in a state of collective shock.

  I continue with my story: “One second before closing, I rigged it, so the Baron sold all his shares of Blue Algae. Monday, at London’s opening bell, Blue Algae stock was down seventy percent, and I sold my options for thirty-six million credits.” I look around the table. No one has moved.

  I take a bite of cake and sip my coffee. “I used the money and bought shares in Blue Algae Inc. at a third of its original price. Its share price has steadily recovered. As of today, it’s worth fifty million credits.” I pause and then continue: “I say we cash out ten million apiece and let the rest ride.”