Strife stepped back. How did he stop a thing of smoke and fire? He needed more

  information.

  The group around the dragon didn’t look like they wanted to talk. And shooting them

  didn’t seem the right course of action. Maybe he could get something out of the two

  nitwits he had knocked out.

  He waved at the white man standing in the door of his house as he ran across the yard.

  He didn’t know if the man saw him, or not. He didn’t have time to save him while he

  tried to secure his captives so he had someone to squeeze for knowledge.

  He grabbed the two men and dragged them behind the house. A stream of green flame

  ripped through the wooden structure as he took cover. He slapped one of the men in

  the face. He needed to wake him up so they could talk. The first slap didn’t work. He

  did it again. A groan answered his effort.

  Strife grabbed the man by the neck with one hand. He slapped him with the other.

  “How do I stop that lizard?,” Strife demanded.

  “I don’t know,” said the summoner. “Hoke was the one who found the book, and

  stuff. He said we could wipe out the blacks.”

  “What book?,” asked Strife.

  “Hoke found this book when we looked through Joe Carlson’s house,” said the stool

  pigeon. “He took it home. He showed us some stuff, so we threw in with him.”

  “Did you take the body?,” said Strife. A beam of flame blew up a tractor in the yard.

  “Hoke said he couldn’t find the fuel he needed,” said the summoner. “It was the last

  place we looked.”

  “I want you to grab your buddy and run,” said Strife. “I’ll try to draw that thing off

  so you can get out of here.”

  “Good luck on that,” said the summoner.

  Strife helped the man to his feet. He picked up the other captive. He draped the man

  over his buddy’s shoulder. He turned the man around.

  “Count to thirty and start running,” said Strife. “Try to keep low. I don’t know how

  well it can see in the dark.”

  “Got it,” said the summoner.

  Strife ran down to the other side of the burning house. He pulled his thirty eight. He

  couldn’t see it working on the monster hovering above him. On the other hand,

  shooting the circle of callers might do something.

  He stepped out from behind the crackling wood. He started firing at the circle. He just

  needed to attract attention. It didn’t matter if the summoners died at this point except

  as revenge.

  Green flame lit up Strife’s world. The pressure of energy on the air sent him flying.

  He hit a burning tree and kept going.

  Strife picked himself up. He hurt all over. Pieces of his skin flaked away as he tried

  to figure out why he was still alive. Smoke filled his mouth and nose. He inhaled and

  let it rush into his lungs.

  He had a lot of questions. He put his survival down as a fluke. He looked around. His

  pistol was nowhere to be seen. How did he fight back against that thing?

  He took a moment to look at the setup. He felt he had time since the thing thought he

  was dead.

  The wounded summoners still maintained the circle around the base of the dragon.

  He had gotten lucky and shot at least one of the men in the head and he had joined his

  leader.

  The dragon rose above the circle. It glared at the world. It didn’t try to cross the

  circle’s line. Maybe it couldn’t. How did he get rid of it?

  Maybe if he could put the fire out, that would put the dragon out. How did he do that?

  There wasn’t any water around as far as he could see.

  He saw a well. He couldn’t get the water out of that fast enough to put the fire out.

  He needed something else.

  He couldn’t cover the fire with dirt fast enough to put the flame out. The Mark might

  be able to do strong man things like that, but he couldn’t.

  Strife looked around. He saw an outcropping of rock in the distance. It stood above

  the mowed grass. He couldn’t lift that with his bare hands.

  He saw a bulldozer. He wondered if the thing would burn him again if he could get

  that started.

  He ran for it, using the remaining trees as cover. He climbed up into the seat. He

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  smiled when he saw the keys were still in the ignition. He turned over the engine and

  put the machine in motion. He lowered the blade so it scraped up the top of the

  ground as it rolled forward on its treads.

  Green flame touched the metal. Strife threw himself over the back of the machine. He

  didn’t want to be caught in an explosion. He landed in the fresh dirt.

  The tractor kept trundling forward. The top of it glowed under the assault of the

  dragon. The lizard reached down and picked the hot machine up in a paw. It flung the

  bulldozer away with a flick of its wrist.

  Strife looked at the pile of dirt. It was so close. A few more feet and the fire would

  be covered up. What did he do now?

  Flame reached for him. He threw himself clear. He caught a glimpse of the caravan.

  The cars and trucks still had their lights on. He realized the engines were still running.

  He might be able to make his plan work after all.

  He sprinted for the closest truck. He ran in front of bursts of burning air. He grabbed

  a rake on the way. He snapped it in half with a shrug of his arms. He hoped that this

  worked right the first time.

  He opened the door of the truck on the driver’s side. He jammed the stick in, and

  released the brake. He jumped clear as the truck sped off.

  Strife sprinted to the second car in line. He jumped behind the wheel. He released the

  brake and hit the gas. He squinted against the whips of flame reaching for the truck.

  He winced when it blew up in a ball of fire.

  He watched the dragon whip its head around to shoot at him in the fast moving car.

  He only needed to last for a few seconds. He saw the beast open its mouth. He gritted

  his teeth and kept going.

  The car plowed into the pile of dirt. It drove the soil on top of the flame. Strife turned

  around in the circle to spread it over the bonfire. He spun out on the other side of the

  circle.

  The dragon shrank with part of the fire put out. It turned to hiss at Strife as he looked

  at it. He got out of the car. He looked up at it.

  The dragon opened its mouth to fry him again. He ran into the circle. He stamped the

  remaining flames out with his bare feet. It hurt, but it had to be done. He brought his

  foot down on the last spot and extinguished the bonfire for good.

  The men fell. Blood poured from the wounds he had inflicted earlier. The smoke

  dispersed. It took the dragon with it.

  Strife looked at the devastation. He shook his head. He wondered how much worse

  it would have been if that thing had been able to wander around.

  One of the summoners had come through the mess without getting shot, or burned.

  He looked around in a daze. Strife walked over and punched him in the face as hard

  as he could. The man went down with a twisted jaw.

  Strife decided that maybe he shouldn’t hit people as hard as he could from now on.

  He seemed to be a lot stronger.

  The deputy decided that he needed something to wear. He couldn’t walk around

  without his clothes. He paused. He had lost his wallet, and his pay. He went and took

  the dead men’s wallets. He looted the living summoner last. He walked to where he

  had left his car.

  He needed to call in and see if he could get a fire department out there to put out the

  flames. Maybe he could get someone to take over for him so he could go home and

  get his other uniform.

  He reached his car and was glad he had left the keys in the ignition. He opened the

  trunk. He pulled out a blanket and turned it into a kilt until he could get some clothes.

  He looked through the wallets. He found one for Hoke Mosh. He read the address. He

  decided to go out there and look around. Maybe he could find whatever they had left

  from Joe Carlson.

  Strife sat down behind the wheel. This had already been a long night, and it wasn’t

  midnight yet. He grabbed the mike. He had to call this in. Then he was going to look

  around Mosh’s place.

  “Sheriff’s Office,” Strife said into the mike. “Anybody there?”

  “I’m here, Barney,” said Orrie Zabbai. “How’s it going at the cemetery? Anybody

  show up to dig up any more dead people.”

  “I wouldn’t know, Orrie,” said Strife. “I’m out here at three five five seven Old

  Savannah Road. There’s fires, and dead men. You might want to send the State

  Police, and a fire department.”

  “What?,” said Orrie.

  “You heard me,” said Strife. “You might want to get things going. I have to get a new

  uniform. I’ll write everything up when I get back to the office.”

  “Wait!,” said Orrie. “What am I going to tell the sheriff?”

  “Tell him there was some kind of gas explosion,” said Strife. “I think he should hurry.

  He might find some survivors out here.”

  The deputy put the microphone down. He looked in the mirror. He saw a pinpoint of

  light. He got out of the car. A man in a dun coat puffed on a cigar as he led the two

  guards and the old man from the burned down house on the road.

  “You again,” said Strife.

  “How’s it going, Deputy?,” said the man in the coat. He helped the others sit on the

  side of the road.

  “Who are you?,” said Strife. “What do you know about this?”

  “I’m just a nobody,” said the man in the coat. He made a half shrug in his coat. “I was

  passing through and saw things needed a nudge. You came through all right. Good

  job.”

  “Getting me burned to a crisp was a nudge?,” said Strife.

  “You’re more of a hero than I thought,” said the man in the coat. “Joe’s old

  protections worked like a charm, didn’t they? If I were you, I would think about who

  else might want to use that old book Mosh wanted from Joe. It might prevent a lot of

  trouble if you found it first.”

  “We’re not done,” said Strife.

  “Time’s wasting,” said the man in the coat. “And put some pants on.”

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?,” said Strife.

  “A regular Jack Benny,” said the man in the coat. He puffed on his cigar as he turned

  to walk away. “You did a good job, Deputy. Joe would be proud you’re taking up his

  mantle as the next Herocles.”

  “I don’t want this,” said Strife.

  “Who does?,” said the man in the coat. He vanished into the dark.

  “Are you guys all right?,” asked Strife.

  The old man nodded. The surviving summoners looked at the ground.

  “I have to go,” said Strife. “Help is on the way. I told Orrie this was a gas explosion.

  I think you three should do the same.”

  The old man nodded again.

  Strife got in his car and drove to Hoke Mosh’s trailer on the other side of the county.

  He found Joe Carlson still guarding his book in an easy chair while watching

  television with embalmed eyes. The deputy took the book from the dead hands. He

  took it outside and set fire to it. He ignored the wailing in the air as it burned.

  He didn’t know if that was a good thing, or not, but at least no one would use the

  book again.