“Of course.”
“’Cause you got unpaid parking tickets.”
“You’re leaving now, yes?”
“Bye, Georgie.” Will waved to Erica and drove off.
* * *
Will was still waiting for the endorphins to wear off and for that wave of exhaustion to crash over him, but it wasn’t happening. He puttered around the kitchen for a few minutes, emptied the dishwasher and thought about making himself some eggs or something. But he wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t tired. He was thrumming. At one point, he leaned against the kitchen table, crossed his arms and just beamed. Everything was beautiful. The light streaming through the window, the way it caught that one stubborn drop of water hanging from the faucet. Man, even the way the air felt on his skin! If this was how he felt every time he helped save the world he was going to do it more often. He shook his head and headed to the shower. A shower would be great.
T.R. was waiting for him in the hallway. As soon as Will walked by, he struck out with the long kitchen knife. The blade glanced off Will’s shoulder blade and knocked him forward. He spun around grabbing for his gun, but Smaug was empty. Will threw the heavy pistol at T.R.’s head. There was an audible crunch as it pulped his nose, but it didn’t even slow him down. T.R. shambled forward, his mouth unhinging. The black head of the last wasp gleamed as it crawled up from T.R.’s throat.
Will’s mind flooded with thoughts of Yïn. If she were here, she’d turn into a flock of cardinals, or just wrap the walker up in a bundle of silk and make short work of him with her pincers. But she wasn’t here. It was just little Constable Two-Bears McFarlan. Two-Bears. Two-Bears. Two-Bears. Will looked at his hands, but they weren’t hands anymore they were huge paws, covered with thick brown fur. He felt a strange sense of doubling as he split down the middle.
Outside of the house everything appeared tranquil. The Jeep sat in the driveway, its engine ticking as it cooled. A blue jay scolded a squirrel from its perch in an old juniper tree. A die-hard cicada began its rhythmic call. A single puff of cloud passed near the sun. A terrible harmonized roar shattered the morning.
Epilogue
It took a long time for her find her way through the smoldering dark. The ground beneath Shard was fouled with angry heat, but it wasn’t enough to singe her new hide. Nothing could burn her. She could walk the rims of Mercury’s craters—these inflamed tunnels were time consuming, nothing more. Time was different now. Once her master, consuming her, it was now insignificant. And so eventually, her scaled snout lead the way through the burning maze from the mine offices at the top of the hill to the cool, green glow of the cavern and the diamond bed. There she curled her long tail around herself and closed her eyes. She could hear them buzzing on the other side of the threshold, but they’d not come through. Not so long as she guarded her new lair.
* * *
In the dark below a burning town, a dragon sleeps. Its horns are long and sharp, its talons razored spears, the tattoos on its skin a vestige of human life already forgotten. It always guards the door.
In the light above a burning mine, a spider keeps watch. Sometimes it rides through empty streets on the back of an old motorcycle looking like a young man in a red baseball cap. Sometimes it patrols the woods in the guise of a pair of Kodiak bears. Sometimes it’s a flock of silent crows, or a cloud of iridescent butterflies. It always guards the town.
And the green shoots creep in and clothe the Victorians. The animals make their beds in engine blocks and desk drawers. The summers rise and rot, the winters freeze and break. The spring and fall set color-fire to the woods. And Shard slips back into the mountain.
The End
~~~
Author's Note
Dear Reader,
Thanks so much for spending time in Shard.
I'm sure you noticed I left things hanging a bit. Will Two-Bears McFarlan has taken on Yïn's role of above-ground protector. (Though I think he'll spend more time looking like a man than a pony-sized spider.) And, undone by her own greed, Amy James has morphed into the subterranean guardian, scales and all. Erica and George have their adventure in Manhattan to look forward to and Kiddo and Loraine Howard will have a blast in that lighthouse on the Maine seacoast.
Shard was the first novel I've written where I didn't kill off at least two of the protagonists. I was a little surprised at the end when I looked up and thought, Hey, check out at all these warm bodies. Maybe it's because the peripheral body count was so high. I did zombify most of the town after all. Maybe it's because I liked Will Two-Bears and his friends so much I wanted to see them again.
Sometimes when I'm cooking up a new book I'll write in a cameo appearance by a character from one of my older novels. Maybe we'll see Will again, or George. Could be Childe Howard will pay us a visit as a young man some years down the road. Who knows? No matter who it is, I'll leave the light on for them... and for you.
About the Author:
John Richmond had a nice middle class childhood in a suburb of Washington, D.C. Mostly he was safe and sound but did brush up against some evil along the way. That darkness got into the backwaters of his mind and never let go. Today he's fascinated not so much by the things that go bump in the night, but by how everyday people might react to them—even if they do a little bumping of their own. To be honest, the things that go bump in the night scare the hell out of him. He's been troubled by nightmares his entire life.
Discover some of John Richmond's other novels:
Empathy
Sins of the Fathers
Connect with John Richmond online at:
www.JohnRichmondBooks.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/Shard/
"Dear Stephen King" One-sided Video Conversations with SK by John Richmond: www.youtube.com/johnrollinrichmond
Shard Page 37