Minimum Wage Heroes

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” Julie grumbled, loading the ballista perched atop the 7-Eleven, “or werewolves in Griffith Park, or-”

“Or ogres on the toll bridges, or pixies mugging people in Runyon Canyon, I know.” Michelle rolled her eyes, but kept her crossbow up, scanning the nearby streets for any sign of movement, “but unfortunately the world becoming Disney for sadists doesn’t mean there’s any more money to pay us better. At least Joel bought some stuff to protect us. Remember the Thai place down the street?”

From her position behind Julie on the roof, she could just make out what looked like two goblins diving through a dumpster a few streets away. She flicked a beads of sweat out of her eyes – it had been a long, hot summer in the valley, and the drought made for slim pickings out in the wilderness. Creatures that normally hunted in the wild places nearby came into cities more often, need making them bold.

“I know you know,” said Julie, ignoring Michelle’s question. Her tongue peeked out the corner of her mouth as she struggled to get the last latch tightened, “and I don’t care, we should be getting paid more anyways. Loading projectiles goes way beyond the job description.”

Michelle didn’t bother to answer, still keeping her eye on the street. Before the world around her had gotten the Hans Christian Anderson treatment, Michelle had kind of liked fantasy – or at least, she liked the Lord of the Rings movies, had gone to Comic Con once or twice, and spent the summer after high school thumbing through yellowed Mercedes Lackey paperbacks by the pool. The thing was, when you read those books and watched those movies, your eye followed the heroes. You didn’t really consider what it would be like to be one of the extras, shuffling in the background and besieged by all manner of mythical beasts.

Bolt secured and job done, the two girls scrambled off the roof and back into the convenience store. Joel didn’t look up from his paperwork as they came in, but called out “Everything good?” He was an older, faded sort of guy, with milky skin, colourless hair and a truly baffling amount of stories about birdwatching, but he let them both drink as much free coffee as they wanted and had never leered at them while they stocked the bottom shelves, so Julie and Michelle agreed that he was basically a good guy.

“Yeah,” Julie answered, pouring them each a fresh cup from the coffeemaker, “but seriously, can’t we just get one of those Rent-a-Knight guys to stand around, or be on call or something?”

Joel snorted. “We sell about a billion more packs of ramen, and I’ll hire you a knight, how about that.” He still hadn’t looked up from his clipboard, just reached his hand up for the steaming Styrofoam cup.

Michelle, locking up the front door, squinted as sun glinted off something a little ways down the street. It was moving erratically, crashing into dumpsters and stumbling into streetlights.

“Hey Jules,” she called over her shoulder, “you might be in luck.”

The knight, in full plate mail, clanked down the street towards them. A proud feather plume hung from his helmet at an odd angle, and, as he got closer, Michelle thought she could see the outline of words smudged into the grime on his armour. “WASH ME”, maybe.

Just then, Michelle saw why the knight was running down the street. Joel, having joined her at the glass door, sucked in his breath sharply. Something was chasing the knight. Or, more accurately, a pack of somethings.

They looked a bit like dragons, but tiny, with spines sticking out from between their scales at all angles. Their tiny vestigial wings caught the air, carrying them for short bursts as they hopped into the air. They surged forward up and over obstacles in a gleaming torrent. The sound of their scrabbling claws, audible even from inside the store, set her teeth on edge. Michelle had seen these little wyrmlings before. On their own, they were fairly manageable. If you were unlucky enough to come across a pack though, especially if you were alone, they could overwhelm you with ease.

One leapt forward, tiny wings coasting in the air like a sugar glider. He tackled the plume on the helmet, momentum wrenching the helmet forward and off the knight’s head.

“Oh for fuck’s sakes,” snapped Julie, “you have to be kidding me.” She pushed past Michelle, unlocking the door and cracking it open. Joel and Michelle tried to pull the door back closed – it was one thing to offer help, another to invite the swarm into their midst – but Julie stuck one bony shoulder in the way, blocking it from closing.

“ASPEN,” Julie bellowed, cupping her hands around her mouth, “OVER HERE.”

Startled, the knight looked up. Without the helmet on, he had the square-jawed, high-cheekboned look common with both guys in L.A., and knights. Michelle thought he must be roasting, wearing full armour in the Los Angeles heat.

He hurried over to them, still managing to stay just ahead of the horde. Joel retreated into the store, grabbing the freshly made coffee. Just as the knight reached them, Joel arced the pot over his head. The boiling coffee sprayed everywhere, glass shards from the pot ricocheting over the concrete. The improvised caffeine Molotov made the wyrmlings scatter, giving just enough time for the knight to duck inside and Michelle to slam the lock home. The little dragons redoubled their efforts, slamming their small bodies into the glass, but to no avail.

The knight collapsed to the floor. Michelle eyed him suspiciously. He was retching, trying to suck enormous breaths in. She just knew it would be her turn to clean up if he barfed. Joel watched the door as the wyrmlings started to give up on brute force. They skittered away from the front of the store, seeming to investigate the area.

Julie crouched next to the knight. She propped open one of the drink cooler doors next to her, and let the cold air wash over the red-faced knight. She reached into the cooler, handing him a cold iced tea. He took it gratefully, gulping down half the bottle in one long swig.

Michelle nudged Julie’s foot with hers, head tilting towards the boy and raising her eyebrow. Julie turned her face away from the heaving knight, and mouthed something at Michelle.

It took Michelle a minute, then she realized what Julie was saying: “cater waiter.” Michelle’s mouth made a tiny “o” of surprise.

Julie had told her about the boyfriend from her last job catering fancy events at houses up in the Hollywood Hills. The company she’d worked for specialized in supplying “craft service models” to swanky events. Every single person they hired was some aspiring actor or model, or garden variety influencer. This wasn’t unusual in L.A., Michelle knew, but the company’s focus on this meant there were a lot of hot young kids working for the company. It was a recipe written for reality TV - in fact, Jules had told her, there’d been producers working with the company’s founders to possibly make some kind of show out of it, but she was fired before anything came of it.

Julie had recounted the story of her firing to Michelle in dramatic detail – the party she and her boyfriend had worked at yet another big beautiful mansion, their plans to go for late-night drinks after. Julie had searched for him as the party was winding down, and found him with not one, but two other girls in the mansion’s cantilevered hot tub, sans bathing suits.

Furious, Julie had the mother of all meltdowns, dumping the tray of half-finished shrimp cocktails she’d been holding into the hot tub. Drawn to the screaming, the hosts had discovered this impromptu gumbo and, one phone call to Julie’s boss later, she was promptly fired, losing her boyfriend and her main source of income in rapid succession. Not long after, desperate for work to supplement the occasional income she received as “Hot Girl #3” in various daytime cop procedurals, Julie had started working at the convenience store with Michelle.

Michelle studied the knight closer as he began to breathe more easily. Her first impression of the kind of generically handsome face that lots of guys had in L.A. was correct. Interestingly, it was partially because of guys like these that L.A. had fared better than a lot of other places when the world had gone crazy – handsome, impoverished guys looking for their big break, that is, not shitbag ex-boyfriends.

When creatures out of myth and legend started appearing around the world, the world had fought back in a big way. Armies had mobilized, police in the streets – overnight the world had become a strange new warzone. The thing was, all the military intervention in the world never proved to be all that effective. Guns, any modern weaponry? Completely useless. What worked? Things you would read about in any bedtime story. A full military unit couldn’t bring down a griffin terrorizing a neighbourhood, but a brave young girl with a slingshot shot it out of the sky in one miraculous hit. It made sense, in a completely nonsensical way.

Over time, you got used to this kind of logic – although the world was nuts, you could kind of apply this fairy-tale nonsense and guess who may be able to save the day. Honest farm boys with mysterious parentage were shipped in from Iowa and Arkansas daily, and trained up with swords and shields. Virtuous girls with hair of gold were now on the government payroll, travelling around the country to soothe savage beasts. Los Angeles, with its surplus of good-looking young people in the big city to seek their fortune was fertile ground for these possible heroes of legend.

The knight was breathing more regularly now. He started to unstrap his breastplate, held on with clips like a bike helmet, for all his Ren-Faire-looking outift. Michelle noticed some thin cuts where the armour didn’t quite cover and a bit of tearing around his shirt collar, but it didn’t look like the wyrmlings had inflicted any major damage.

Julie had gotten the first-aid kit out from behind the counter, and was rummaging through it. She handed the boy a fistful of moist towelettes.

“What were you doing by yourself Aspen?” she asked, exasperated, “Don’t you Rent-A-Knights come in teams?”

Aspen wiped at his cuts gingerly, the tiny towelettes doing little to clean away the blood.

“We got separated.” He winced, cleaning a particularly long slash behind his ear. “There were a couple of us a few streets over, for the opening of that new outdoor mall. They wanted a few guys to cover the entrance, make sure guests got into the courtyard safely, only the catering guys were dumb enough to spill a bunch of trays in the street.”

Michelle winced. A sure-fire way to draw pests to your door was food out in the open and, unlike the racoons or rats that would have been a concern pre-Grimm Brothers bullshit, scavengers like wyrmlings or goblins wouldn’t wait until you’d left the area to feast. The scent could draw enough creatures to the area to form a pack.

“Most of the people got inside,” he continued, “but they shut the doors before we could get in. The other guys dipped, and I’m not dumb enough to fight those things alone, so I ran too. My lucky day I guess ‘cause the pack picked me to follow.”

“My hero,” Julie said sarcastically, but she must not have judged him too harshly, because she reached into the cooler and handed him another iced tea. With some basic training and having the looks, background, or some other it-factor that meant they could possibly stand up against storied beasts, Michelle had heard Rent-a-Knights were mostly useful for minor nuisances or just making people feel more secure. Aspen running may have really been the better part of valour.

Joel, still looking out the door at the retreating wyrmlings, abruptly unlocked it, pushing it open. He ran around the corner and out of sight.

Michelle, taken aback, froze for a second, then threw up her hands.

“What the actual fuck is happening today?” She grabbed the crossbow off the counter and went to follow him. “Lock the door after me,” she called over her shoulder to Julie, still on the floor with Aspen, “I’ll be right back.”

*****

She kept her crossbow up as she hurried after Joel. A wyrm wheeled on her, its fangs bared as it screeched and flared its neck frills. Her bolt went wide, but the nasty thing skittered away, disappearing behind the dumpster. She struggled to load another bolt as she rounded to the back of the building. Joel’s leg was just disappearing up the ladder to the roof.

“Joel!” she called, slinging the crossbow back onto her back as she started to climb, “Joel what are you doing? Come back in –“ She stopped abruptly as she reached the roof, one hand at the top of the ladder.

The store had a little structure on the roof with air conditioning units attached. Michelle had only been in there occasionally – Joel kept a few maintenance supplies in there, and every once in a while, she had to grab a hose from the shed and power-wash the roof. Joel swatted the air wildly with a pushbroom, fending off wyrmlings doing kamikaze dives off the roof, trying to get inside the door. Inside the little shed, curled up to just barely fit inside, was what had to be a griffin.

It looked just like photos Michelle had seen on the news, front half snowy white and feathered, its great wings tucked close to its body, and catlike back haunches pulled tight. Its massive beak snapped at any wyrmling that got past Joel’s broom.

Her first instinct was to shoot the griffin, to do it before those wild eyes turned on her, but she could tell that Joel was trying to defend it. He even had his back to it, seemingly heedless of that great, snapping beak. She clambered up the last of the ladder and took careful aim at the densest part of the wyrmling swarm. Her bolt flew, her mediocre aim made deadly by the tightly-packed swarm. Three wyrmlings fell to the ground. The great beak snapped out again, crunching the little creatures up mercilessly.

Michelle walked carefully closer to Joel, eyes darting between the griffin and the wyrmlings, who appeared to be retreating slightly with the death of their comrades. They perched at the edge of the roof, reptilian eyes fixed on the griffin.

One arm still pointing the pushbroom at the wyrmlings like a rapier, Joel put out a warning hand.

“Don’t come too close,” he cautioned, “walk very slowly, and keep your eyes off her eggs.”

Michelle couldn’t help it. She glanced just under the griffin. There, almost hidden by tawny cat’s legs, were three massive eggs about the size of a mini fridge. They were speckled like a robin’s eggs, but the speckles were a dull bronze on the light blue shell. As her eyes traveled up the griffin’s baleful eyes, massive and amber with slitted pupils like a cat, met hers. Its whole body tensed as if to prepare to spring. Immediately she looked away, focusing on Joel and making sure the crossbow pointed away from the beast.

“So,” she said lightly, trying to keep hysteria out of her voice, “got anything to tell me Joel? What’s new?”

Joel’s arms quavered, straining to keep the pushbroom aloft. Without taking his eyes off the hissing wyrmlings he said, “She’s been here for a while. Could tell when I came up and found her she was in a bad way. She’d landed up here, I’m guessing after some kind of fight. She was all cut up, weak. She barely even went for me, just made these sad little mewling noises. I set her up in the shed, could tell she needed somewhere to rest, somewhere she could nest down.”

He glanced at Michelle. “She’s not so different from an eagle, really. She needed somewhere safe for her eggs, and she hasn’t made a peep the whole time you’ve been coming up here, has she?”

“I do remain miraculously uneaten.” She edged closer to the griffin, coming to back Joel up. The griffin curled a little tighter around her eggs, but didn’t make any moves to remedy Michelle’s uneaten-ness.

As Michelle moved closer, the wyrmlings started to swirl. Slower at first, then faster and faster, they formed a living cyclone. Joel lowered the pushbroom, hunching over and resting his hands on his knees. He blew out his breath hard.

“Little bastards are just like lizards,” he panted. “Sometimes lizards will steal eggs from a nest, when they can reach ‘em.” He slid down to sit with his back against the shed, face upturned as he tried to slow his breathing. The griffin started to shrink back, then slowly reached her neck out slightly, lying her great head delicately next to Joel. Michelle stared, eyes wide. There were a couple friendlier creatures she’d heard of people making friendships, or at least a truce with, but griffins were notorious for snatching up livestock and humans that encroached on their land. She’d as soon approach one, particularly one protecting its babies, as a mama bear.

“I don’t know what got into those wyrmlings,” Joel scanned the street, watching as the swarm swirled through alleys, skittering away. “I don’t know if I’ve seen them be this aggressive before, and did you see the size of that pack?”

Michelle considered the retreating creatures. Even as she watched, stray wyrmlings came from a few different directions. The streets weren’t busy today – a few cars rolled through nearby streets, and as per usual, there wasn’t much in the way of walking traffic out in the open as people preferred the safety of indoor malls or glassed-in courtyards, so the little creatures stood out. In twos and threes, they started coming through different alleys, hopping out of dumpsters and even up from grates on the street. She watched as they joined up with the pack.

“I don’t like it,” she said slowly, “I don’t think I’ve seen this either… but I know I don’t like it. Can we leave your friend up here safely now, if we close the doors, do you think?” She gestured at the griffin.

“Can’t,” Joel winced. “Doors were open when I came up. I’ve been piping A/C into her nest so she doesn’t roast in the heat, but looks like the machine’s broken. At least with the doors open she can catch a bit of a breeze, but she also seems pretty vulnerable. I think that’s why the wyrmlings were harassing her.”

“Well,” Michelle said, glancing at the griffin’s wickedly sharp beak again, “don’t you think she can take care of herself, now that we’ve scared them off a bit? We can come check on her maybe, take turns? I just don’t like the look of that swarm.”

The lizards below continued to mass together. She found it hard to pick out individual creatures now, just a writhing mass of iridescent scales in the late afternoon sun. She drummed a heel against the concrete, feeling fear prickle at her hands. Her nerves screamed at her to climb back down the ladder, to put a locked door between herself and the tide of wyrmlings.

Just then, she noticed something on the horizon. Though still far away, the shape’s shadow loomed large over buildings far in the distance. She squinted into the sun, trying to make out what it was for certain, but something in her already knew.

She could see the massive wings more clearly. Its scales gleamed red, long, spined neck dipping low as it flew. Though it was still miles away, she could actually hear the impact it was having, so loud was the sound of car brakes screeching and horns blaring. It ignored the chaos in its wake, flying straight and true.

As one, the swarm took flight. They dove from roofs of nearby buildings, and started to circle, whipping around and around in a frenzy. Somehow, Michelle knew that as the dragon flew directly their way, the wyrmlings turning the convenience store into a perfect bullseye, that death came on swift wings for the 7-Eleven.

*****

“Come on let’s go!” Michelle hammered on the convenience store’s door, screaming at Aspen and Julie inside, “big fucking dragon let’s go!”

Jules hurried to unlock the door.

“What? Get inside, the wyrms are acting –“

Michelle interrupted her, “They’re showing it where we are. Joel and I could see from the roof, a big ass, real life dragon is heading this way.”

Aspen audibly whimpered behind Julie. The other girl blanched. They’d all heard stories of dragon sightings before – not many, but some. The stories never ended well.

Joel barrelled in after Michelle, the crossbow she’d dropped slung over his back.

“There’s no way we’d get out of here past them,” he said urgently, indicating the whirlwind behind them. The wyrms were so thick now they looked like an undulating wall. Dust, bits of trash and other debris were kicked up in their wake.

“Got no choice,” he continued grimly. He squatted down slightly, offering a hand to Aspen, who still hadn’t moved from the floor. The younger man’s hand trembled, but he took Joel’s arm, pulling himself up to stand. Joel continued further into the shop, going to the freezer in the back of the store. He started hauling out bags of ice.

“Oh good,” Michelle’s voice was deadpan, “are we toasting to our imminent demise with margaritas?”

Joel turned. His rumpled button-up had dark sweat stains coming out from the underarms and threatening to meet in the middle, and his face was blotchy, but his jaw was set.

“Well, I’m thinking we either die hiding in here or we die trying to fight,” he said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think we’re getting out of here and the only thing I can think is maybe that dragon is coming for the same thing as those wyrmlings. I mean, he’s a big lizard too. Our only chance is that he’s coming for those eggs, and not just to...” he trailed off.

“Turn us into char-broiled chain store?” supplied Julie helpfully. Aspen went from pale with fear to sickly green. Jules turned to face him, hands on hips.

“What about your training,” she prodded, “you guys get some basic primers on these things, right?”

He took a shaky breath, “a bit, I guess, but you know we aren’t going up against something this big usually, like a couple of goblins maybe, sure, but really –“

She narrowed her eyes at him. He spoke hesitantly, face screwed up in concentration.

“Well Joel could be right, I mean they usually don’t just come into cities for no reason, or just to kill or whatever – like obviously, or else we’d all be dead by now probably. They’re collectors.”

“Anyone actually manage to fend off one of these things?” asked Michelle.

Aspen looked at the floor. “Not that I know anything about. The biggest thing is the fire. People can’t to it before it gets to them.”

Joel handed Michelle a few bags of ice.

“We’re going to have to try,” he said grimly. “Load up, I have a dumb idea.”

*****

In position, Michelle and Aspen were sweating underneath a big tarp that normally covered the A/C units in the winter. Now they had it hiding them and the ballista, with a hole pierced through right where the bolt sat ready. Aspen was poised with a reload, and Michelle could feel waves of misery rolling off him.

“I can’t believe this is how it ends,” he said, his voice edging into a whine, “when I joined up, I mean it was basically a mall security job - the armour is mostly a costume, you know for brand recognition, get the company name out there.”

“Well, I promise to inscribe your name on this very spot Aspen,” Michelle couldn’t help it. A deranged giggle escaped her. “Aspen Dragonslayer, defender of the 7-Eleven and all of her bountiful parking spots.”

“That’s not even my real name,” Aspen said glumly, eyes not leaving the mammoth shape on the horizon, “it’s Brian. My agent said I needed a better brand.”

Michelle snorted. “Well Brian, nice to meet you. It’s okay, your brand’s safe with me – I don’t think I’ll survive long enough to immortalize you.” She faced the horizon, getting in position behind the ballista. She could no longer tell the difference between fear and hysteria in her stomach. It was a true out of body moment, as she crouched under a tarp on the roof of a 7-Eleven with a guy in shitty Ren-Faire gear preparing for her last stand against a real life dragon. Sometimes, all you could do was laugh.

It got closer and closer. Just as she would have imagined, scaly, curled horns and massive, batlike wings. Her ears popped with the beating of those massive wings as it came closer and closer. Her hands gripped the rope that would launch the bolt tighter, knuckles white.

Just then Joel stepped out in plain view. In his arms, he held one of the griffin’s eggs. It had taken some persuading, but the mother griffin, seeing the approaching dragon and the circling wyrmlings, seemed to understand they were dead if they didn’t try anyways.

“HEY,” Joel screamed out at the giant beast, “YOU WANT THIS? COME AND GET IT.” His voice barely quavered. The dragon's wings tucked in, diving headfirst straight toward him.

The thing landed on the rooftop. Its claws bit into the concrete, leaving huge gouges. Its reptilian head cocked, forked tongue hissing out as its eyes focused on the egg Joel clutched to his chest. Michelle noticed as it unhinged its jaw a bit, and she held her breath in fear. One gout of flame and they were all dead. As they’d hoped though, the dragon seemed to reconsider, eyes locked on the egg. Gnashing its teeth instead, it rolled its shoulder blades back and got low, preparing to circle, to spring.

“NOW,” Joel screamed as he stumbled out of the way.

Michelle fired. Her aim was about as good as you would expect from any part-time convenience store employee with minimal training on a medieval siege weapon, but luckily this was point blank range with a target as big as a bus. The bolt slammed into the dragon’s side, ripping through its right wing. The creature roared, and Michelle had to clap her hands over her ears. Luckily Aspen, still green but face set and determined, was already in place, loading the next bolt for her. The dragon rounded on them, jaw unhinging and a his like when a gas stove is ignited starting to burble up.

“HEY!” came a scream from the other side of the roof. Stepping out from behind the maintenance shed was Jules, sighting down the power washer rod like a rifle. AS the dragon turned, mouth open, she shot a stream of high-pressure water straight into its gullet. Joel, having exchanged the gg for bags of ice whirled the bags around like a shotput, sending bag after bag along with the water straight into the dragon’s maw. After he ran out of bags of ice, he started picking up the 44 oz Slurpees they’d prepared, arcing them the best he could into the dragons mouth. Not every one reached its target, but the combination of everything being thrown at it clearly had thrown the dragon off. Already staggering from the hole ripped in its side, all the ice, water and slush in its mouth seemed to prevent it from unleashing its deadly torrent of flame.

Michelle hear maniacal laughter. She realized it was her.

“MICHELLE,” Aspen screamed, “MICHELLE, FIRE!”

Right. She forced herself to concentrate, gripping the rope. She aimed right down the creatures gaping mouth.

The bolt found its home, slamming straight down the nightmare beast’s throat. For a second, it scrabbled at the roof, but its weight had been thrown back with the bolt’s impact. The massive body teetered, then tipped gracelessly over the edge of the roof, landing with a resounding thud onto the asphalt below.

*****

For a moment, nobody moved. Then, Michelle’s laughter came back. She threw back her head and laughed, big and gulping, chokingly hysterical. It was contagious. They laughed with the exhilaration of being alive against all odds. Her eyes closed, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt so truly alive. Something wet and cold hit her face. She looked up, as the heavens opened up and it started to rain, the lights in the valley running together like smeared neon.

The griffin, eggs secured, put a large head delicately on Joel's shoulder. He absently scratched it as he chuckled. Aspen finally, and rather elegantly, threw up over his shoulder, then stuck out his tongue in the rain and let it wash the taste of fear out of his mouth. Julie grabbed an unused Slurpee and dumped it over her head like a football player celebrating post game, laughter reaching a fever pitch.

Michelle considered the scene around her: great scaled corpse in their parking lot, store manager petting a griffin, her co-worker dripping cream soda slush and a Rent-a-Knight in battered armour. Not conventional maybe, but it worked.

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. But then, there weren’t always heroes either.