Chapter 8
Marcus heard and smelled another man approach him. He turned to find Mitch, with a large number of papers in his hand. He said, “We have a list of twenty people who want to go with you. They each wrote down a reason; I read most of them and some of them are good, others bad. Some of them are completely disgusting to me, but I’ll let you two pick ‘em.”
He walked up to Liz and handed her the lists. She started to read them and said aloud, “Stanley Mintario; has a lot of experience with guns, fighting the undead in first person shooters, and he loves redheads.”
“He sounds like me seven years ago. Does it have a picture of him?”
“yup, and he looks a lot like you back then too.”
Marcus weighed two hundred and fifty pounds back then and had no sense of personal hygiene. Marcus said, “We don’t need anyone like that, and he’ll probably kill himself once he sees real combat.”
“Michelle Quimber; she’s blonde-”
“She won’t do.”
“Jack wants to come.”
“We can’t take him, he is too young.”
“What about Steven? They’re about the same age.”
“True, but Steven’s father gave them a militaristic lifestyle; war is in his blood.”
“Jason Michelin; he’s a retired politician with strong military ties and full training in survival.”
“He will do.”
“Mitch Clavary; he’s a fisherman-”
“Is it the same Mitch that handed you that list?”
“Yup, you think he’ll do?”
“I do.”
“Larry Darva; ooh he’s hot!”
“Then no.”
“Oh come on! I’m a big girl.”
“Not to me, you aren’t.”
Liz ignored his latest comment and moved on. She said, “Thomas Conera-”
“The president?”
“The retired war vet. He fought in Nam and was kicked out of the army for insubordination.”
“Good, let’s take him.”
They went through the rest of the list, but none of the people would benefit the overall group. Most of them were either too young, too old, or spent too much time playing video games and not enough time on a treadmill. Five people, including Liz, would require an SUV of sorts. Liz said, “How about an RV? I could use the relaxation.”
“My poor wings would rip themselves off. I never get tired, but that doesn’t make me super strong. And I do not want raw sewage to rain down on my back. A bus will do better. It weighs less and has more space.”
“Would they really have a school bus on an island so small?”
Apparently, they did. Marcus sat just outside a junkyard as a crane that was used to move fish crates was repurposed to move a school bus to his back. Liz asked why they had a bus on an island like this and the junkyard manager said, “We could use the spare parts to fix the boat’s equipment.”
Marcus looked over the fence and saw how the wheels were gone, the engine was indeed missing, and most of the mechanical devices were in fact gone. Marcus would have looked on for a few more minutes, but he heard a scream and one of the men that was placing a rope on his neck slipped off. Marcus grabbed him before he fell thirty feet and placed him back. He said, “Sorry about that, I forgot you were there. I think it could be a bit tighter around the waist.”
The other men started to make jokes about his girlfriend saying something similar and Marcus placed his head on the ground again. The saddle’s harness was finished by late afternoon, and the ropes were stronger than Marcus expected. He moved around, and they did not break no matter how awkward the position. He complimented on the men’s handy work and they continued to make jokes about it that Marcus did not understand and he guessed that it was better that way.
Marcus went to his usual spot by the fire pit and set himself down for the evening. Liz came over to him and sat by the black hole in the ground, and Marcus nudged her with his muzzle. She said, “Some punk came up to me today and offered me a good time.”
“If me ripping him in half is a good time, then by all means go to him.”
“Oh, shut it! You know I told him off.”
Three men walked over to them and sat down by the fire pit. Marcus said, “You do not make a fire on some nights?”
“We swap off on wood duty. Larry has it tonight, so you’ll be warm soon enough.”
“If it was warmth that she wanted, I would help her with that.”
“He’s right. I took a smores kit from the grocery store we visited.”
The men looked at each other as five others arrived. The present three asked the other men if they knew what a smore was; none of them knew. Liz grabbed the kit and soon, Larry arrived. He moved to sit next to Liz, six inches away, but Marcus bared his teeth. Liz looked back at him and he lowered his lip before she could see. He raised it when she turned away, and the pattern repeated itself three times before Liz caught up with him. Marcus smiled, barring more teeth than before. She said to Jason, “Don’t mind him, he’s really quite harmless.”
“Harmless? I have been called many things over my short time as a dragon, but harmless is a new one for me. When you look at me, boy, try and remember the overprotective father with a really, really big shotgun. You’ll live a lot longer that way.”
The other men laughed full-heartedly and Jason made to light a match. Marcus said, “Let me do it.”
Marcus sent a small flame from his nostril down to the fire pit. It burned long enough to catch the kindling, yet it was short enough not to burn all the wood and small enough to not kill anyone. When it was lit, Liz said, “Alright, this is how you make a smore…”
He walked up to Liz and handed her the lists. She started to read them and said aloud, “Stanley Mintario; has a lot of experience with guns, fighting the undead in first person shooters, and he loves redheads.”
“He sounds like me seven years ago. Does it have a picture of him?”
“yup, and he looks a lot like you back then too.”
Marcus weighed two hundred and fifty pounds back then and had no sense of personal hygiene. Marcus said, “We don’t need anyone like that, and he’ll probably kill himself once he sees real combat.”
“Michelle Quimber; she’s blonde-”
“She won’t do.”
“Jack wants to come.”
“We can’t take him, he is too young.”
“What about Steven? They’re about the same age.”
“True, but Steven’s father gave them a militaristic lifestyle; war is in his blood.”
“Jason Michelin; he’s a retired politician with strong military ties and full training in survival.”
“He will do.”
“Mitch Clavary; he’s a fisherman-”
“Is it the same Mitch that handed you that list?”
“Yup, you think he’ll do?”
“I do.”
“Larry Darva; ooh he’s hot!”
“Then no.”
“Oh come on! I’m a big girl.”
“Not to me, you aren’t.”
Liz ignored his latest comment and moved on. She said, “Thomas Conera-”
“The president?”
“The retired war vet. He fought in Nam and was kicked out of the army for insubordination.”
“Good, let’s take him.”
They went through the rest of the list, but none of the people would benefit the overall group. Most of them were either too young, too old, or spent too much time playing video games and not enough time on a treadmill. Five people, including Liz, would require an SUV of sorts. Liz said, “How about an RV? I could use the relaxation.”
“My poor wings would rip themselves off. I never get tired, but that doesn’t make me super strong. And I do not want raw sewage to rain down on my back. A bus will do better. It weighs less and has more space.”
“Would they really have a school bus on an island so small?”
Apparently, they did. Marcus sat just outside a junkyard as a crane that was used to move fish crates was repurposed to move a school bus to his back. Liz asked why they had a bus on an island like this and the junkyard manager said, “We could use the spare parts to fix the boat’s equipment.”
Marcus looked over the fence and saw how the wheels were gone, the engine was indeed missing, and most of the mechanical devices were in fact gone. Marcus would have looked on for a few more minutes, but he heard a scream and one of the men that was placing a rope on his neck slipped off. Marcus grabbed him before he fell thirty feet and placed him back. He said, “Sorry about that, I forgot you were there. I think it could be a bit tighter around the waist.”
The other men started to make jokes about his girlfriend saying something similar and Marcus placed his head on the ground again. The saddle’s harness was finished by late afternoon, and the ropes were stronger than Marcus expected. He moved around, and they did not break no matter how awkward the position. He complimented on the men’s handy work and they continued to make jokes about it that Marcus did not understand and he guessed that it was better that way.
Marcus went to his usual spot by the fire pit and set himself down for the evening. Liz came over to him and sat by the black hole in the ground, and Marcus nudged her with his muzzle. She said, “Some punk came up to me today and offered me a good time.”
“If me ripping him in half is a good time, then by all means go to him.”
“Oh, shut it! You know I told him off.”
Three men walked over to them and sat down by the fire pit. Marcus said, “You do not make a fire on some nights?”
“We swap off on wood duty. Larry has it tonight, so you’ll be warm soon enough.”
“If it was warmth that she wanted, I would help her with that.”
“He’s right. I took a smores kit from the grocery store we visited.”
The men looked at each other as five others arrived. The present three asked the other men if they knew what a smore was; none of them knew. Liz grabbed the kit and soon, Larry arrived. He moved to sit next to Liz, six inches away, but Marcus bared his teeth. Liz looked back at him and he lowered his lip before she could see. He raised it when she turned away, and the pattern repeated itself three times before Liz caught up with him. Marcus smiled, barring more teeth than before. She said to Jason, “Don’t mind him, he’s really quite harmless.”
“Harmless? I have been called many things over my short time as a dragon, but harmless is a new one for me. When you look at me, boy, try and remember the overprotective father with a really, really big shotgun. You’ll live a lot longer that way.”
The other men laughed full-heartedly and Jason made to light a match. Marcus said, “Let me do it.”
Marcus sent a small flame from his nostril down to the fire pit. It burned long enough to catch the kindling, yet it was short enough not to burn all the wood and small enough to not kill anyone. When it was lit, Liz said, “Alright, this is how you make a smore…”