Chapter 8A: Dust To Dust
When a roadside encounter turns into an execution, Keemon proves just how far he’ll go to silence truths he refuses to understand.
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Field Commander Gary Keemon drove the Rhino hard along the Great Northern Road towards town. He was still smarting from the slap down Barry Morden gave him at the recent Voice meeting. He’d expected more backup from Morden and being ordered to go easy on that punk John Bowman and his slag Jessie Saker riled him then and continued gnawing at his guts now.
He slowed at the last S bend before town and slammed on the brakes to check out an old transit van lying on its side by the road’s edge. Its hood had busted open in whatever mishap had occurred and curlicues of smoke wafted from the engine.
Keemon pulled up a safe distance beyond the wreck, drew his pistol and sidled over to peer in the smashed driver’s window. The front seats were empty, and a mattress, clothing and personal effects lay strewn about the cargo deck in the rear of the van.
The cop scanned the landscape around the site but saw no one. When flames crackled from the engine bay he jumped, bolted to the Rhino, and sped off.
Further along, he came across an aged couple limping into town. He stopped a way beyond them and alighted with his gun drawn. His eyes swept them foot to toe as he came up smirking at their tattered hippie clothing.
“Okay, what have we got here?”
The couple pulled up struggling to support one another. The woman shrank back on seeing Keemon approach. The man spoke.
“Sir, we need help, can you give us a lift into town?”
At first the cop had assumed they were the driver and passenger from the crashed van he’d just passed. As such, he would interrogate them, since they were returning from land beyond town that was off-limits.
But on closer inspection, he noted the man’s face was a mass of minor cuts, abrasions and faint blood trickles that looked to be several days old. His companion sported a black eye which was in a similarly half-healed state, its edges already fading to a pale yellow.
That couldn’t be right, the accident was too recent. Puzzles always pissed him off and he felt familiar anger rising in him as his musculature tensed.
“Sure, I can do that. But you need to tell me what the hell happened to you first.”
The old man stammered. “We had an… accident.”
Keemon nosed the peak of his cap back with the barrel of his gun. “Yes, I believe I saw it — the old van a little way back?”
The man nodded.
“So, just what were you two doing out of town?”
The man looked lost for words and began to ramble; the old woman noted the impatience on Keemon’s face and stepped forward to answer.
“Please, you appear to be an officer, and I think I know you.” She looked past the cop to the squad car with its black star on the front side door. “It’s officer Keemon isn’t it?” Before Keemon could inform her of his promotion she continued, “Can you help us? We’re both still hurt from the accident.”
“I’ll do that, right after you tell me what’s going on. For starters, you two have obviously had some sort of dustup days ago, but you’re telling me that’s your van back there, and it’s only recently come to grief. What the bloody hell’s going on?”
The couple looked at one another nonplussed before the man turned back to speak. It was obvious to Keemon not all the pain in his face was physical. They were both scared, perhaps from what had happened to them, but Keemon suspected it more likely they were afraid of him. Guilty as hell, obviously.
“We were just coming back from visiting friends who live out,” the old man began, “but we had the strangest experience. We were run off the road by this, this… creature in the air.” Seeing Keemon’s disbelief, he went on quickly. “I know it sounds crazy, so I’ll come right out and say it. I swear what ran us off the road was a dragon! You know what folks have been saying lately about them showing up more and more? Well, the wife and I can confirm that; it just happened to us!”
The woman backed her husband with enthusiasm. “It’s true, this thing flew down and it was like a great wind hit the old van. It’s always been a bit unstable and we lost control. That’s why it’s lying on its side back there.”
Keemon’s eyes narrowed as he considered the story. It sure as hell didn’t address the issue of how fast their wounds were healing. Still, it sounded a lot like what happened to him when he drove back from Osborne’s farm the other day. But he’d put that down to a trick of the light in all the dust, and he wasn’t convinced by this dragon story either. Nevertheless, the eerie coincidence irritated him.
“How do you know it was a bloody dragon? It could have just been a tornado, and the dust got in your eyes and you saw things. By the look of you, you’re probably high on something anyway.”
The man shook his head. “No, honestly, believe us. This was a dragon. It turned around and came back and set down before us. When we clambered out of the cabin it spoke to us. Yes, yes, I know — a speaking dragon. I know it sounds unbelievable, but the damn thing did speak!”
Keemon smirked. “Yeah, sure. So, what did it say? Pleased to meet you, so sorry I upended the van?”
“No, I mean yes, it did apologise for the accident. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but it explained to us the purpose of its visit. It said it came from another world — Animarl — and that it’s looking for someone on earth to help unlock this thing called Soul Gate.”
The woman tapped her partner’s arm to interrupt. “And it used these magical healing pods beneath its arms to help us, they stopped the bleeding and made most of the pain go. But I’m sure you find that just another crazy story, don’t you?”
Now Keemon guffawed. “Soul Gate? Healing pods? Stop it, you’re killing me. So, why didn’t you just hitch a lift into town with this dragon instead of waiting for me to come along?”
The old man looked down. “As a matter of fact it did offer to take us home on its back. I wish we’d said yes but at the time it just seemed too bizarre to ride a dragon home.”
The cop rocked side to side with laughter. “Well, I for one would love to have seen that! And just what does this Soul Gate in Animarl do that’s so important?”
The woman’s face hardened and her eyes narrowed as she said, “It helps lost souls on their way to heaven!”
Keemon laughed almost continuously now; he had trouble getting words out. “Oh, please… don’t tell me he told you… you’re the chosen one?”
“No, not either of us,” the woman said, “and you can laugh all you like, but we know what happened. And as I say, I know you, Mr Keemon. I’m not surprised by your scornful manner, and I’m not afraid of you.”
The old man put his hand on her arm. “Just let it be, love. He doesn’t believe us and he’s not going to.” He turned to the cop. “Can we please just stop the talking and get a lift home?”
Keemon chopped his own merriment dead.
“Absolutely! I’ve wasted far too much time on the pair of you. But I’m damned if you’re going into town to continue spreading this crazy talk. We’ve got enough on our hands without idiots like you stirring up more trouble.”
The old couple froze. The man stood in front of the woman and put his palms towards Keemon. The woman pushed him aside and held the cop’s gaze as she spoke.
“Like I said, I know you and I’m not afraid.” She kissed her husband’s lips and brushed his cheek before continuing to address the cop. “I know what you’re capable of and what you’re doing now. And I know you will get yours in time!”
Keemon walked to within arm’s length of them.
“That may be so you old hag, but right now I’m sending you two home like you wanted. Express!”
He raised the automatic and shot them both in the head.
***