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Bentwhistle the Dragon in A Threat from the Past

Page 14

by Paul Cude


  Chapter 13: Nursing a Semi (Final, that is)

  Once inside, Tank got straight to work on the television, connecting the crystal and tuning it in. Peter and Richie headed into the kitchen to prepare some snacks. With his rant about alcohol over, the two friends soon started larking about, something that within minutes had turned into an almost full on food fight. Peter threw carrots, cucumbers and then celery at Richie, who in a blur, caught the aforementioned items and, at incredible speed, chopped them into edible slices to serve with a selection of dips. Halfway through the chopping, Richie stopped abruptly, wandered over to Peter and surprisingly pulled his shirt wide open at the neck. Gently, she placed her hand under the alea, making sure not to pull the chain onto which it was attached, too tight. More than a little gobsmacked, she leaned right into Peter's chest for a better view. After a silence that bordered on the uncomfortable, she finally spoke up.

  "I've never seen anything like it. What is it?"

  Peter looked anxiously at the door to the living room, hoping that Tank wouldn't come in.

  "It's called an alea," he replied, smiling down at his friend’s head nestled close to his chest.

  "It's so... captivating."

  Peter nodded his agreement.

  "Yes it is."

  "What's it for?" whispered Richie.

  Over the course of the next few minutes, he explained how he'd inherited it from Mark Hiscock, how Gee Tee had told him what it was and in particular how Tank had no idea that Peter had been to see the old dragon on that very memorable night, while all the time Richie didn't take her eyes off it, not once.

  "Name your price?"

  "Huh?"

  "Whatever you want, just name it."

  Gently drawing his friend's fingers away from the alea, a very staggered Peter looked her straight in the eyes.

  "I'm really sorry Rich," he said, meaning every word, "but I just don't want to part with it."

  A millisecond's worth of angry scowl appeared and then disappeared on Richie's face.

  "I understand," she whispered softly.

  And then everything returned to normal. Richie threw two sticks of celery high into the air and in a dazzling display of dexterity proceeded to cut them into bite sized strips, before they hit the kitchen work surface. Peter joined in and the kitchen turned into a bizarre experiment that looked like someone had crossed two Gordon Ramsays with a circus act as knives and vegetables flew across the kitchen in a blur.

  Just as the two vegetable jugglers had run out of ammunition and had decided to use the last carrot and cucumber as swords to fight like pirates, sideways on, with one hand each behind their backs, they heard Tank's voice from the living room, urging them to take a look at something. Sword fighting their way into the living room pirate style (Peter's carrot by this time had most certainly seen better days), the two friends entered to see Tank cross legged on the floor in front of the huge LCD television, gazing intently at the picture.

  "It's even better than I imagined it would be," stated Tank, dreamily.

  Peter and Richie stopped fighting and moved closer to the television. Split into two, the screen had the view of the giant arena on the top half, and a close up picture of one of the goal mouths on the lower half.

  "Is that live?" asked Richie.

  Tank pulled his attention away from the screen, frowning at the battered and bruised cucumber in her hand.

  "Sure is."

  "The quality of the picture is incredible, despite the fact that it's in black and white."

  "I think they must have integrated some of the latest film and broadcasting technology from the humans into it."

  "It does look fantastic."

  As they all looked on, the images changed. The upper image zoomed out to show the entire stadium, the cavern roof and the surface of the lava lake, while the lower view changed to show a rocky overhang on one side of the stadium. Concentrating on the bottom half of the screen, all three of the friends anticipated what would happen next. They weren't disappointed. With no sound available through the television, only their increased breathing could be heard as suddenly a triangular portion of rock face peeled back to reveal a hexagonal entrance with bright neon lights streaming out of it. Moments later, out flew two teams, the Gipsy Kings with their players surrounded by dark auras, and the Indigo Warriors surrounded by light. All three cheered on seeing their team enter the stadium.

 

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