Southpaw

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. There used to be people. He vaguely remembered the shopping mall, bristling with humans going about their lazy Sunday.

Dane crouched on his icy perch, looking through small binoculars out over the Valley. The dragons couldn't detect him from up there; their horns lacked the range. His only comfort in being this close was that he wasn't sensing them either. His eyes scanned across the unmoving masses, working out a plan.

His eyes landed on a decrepit auto parts store. He squinted. He panned away. A single, overburdened road led alongside the plaza. He panned back. There were probably thirty dragons down there, all frozen without purpose. Getting them to vacate the bone-laden streets wouldn't be easy, but it would be doable.

He stood up. He was a tall, sinewy young man. He opened his red, double breasted coat and pocketed his binoculars. He put his gloved fists on his hips and stood for a moment. Hair from under his flap hat fell across his face. He reached up and brushed it back.

The rumble of the engine echoed behind him. He turned to his machine, smoke wafting out its chimney. His eyes gazed over the mighty mechanical beast, stopping at the elevated, sloped shovel that adorned the frontmost portion. His jaw rolled.

"Okay, we're doin' this," Dane muttered. He walked toward the vehicle. He reached up and opened the door, heaving himself in. His body landed in the form-fitted suspension seat. It was comforting, safe. The monster vehicle turned wide and headed down the slope, away from the Valley.

The truck turned right as the slope leveled out and dirt became pavement, Dane looked right, passed the stove pipe and out the passenger window, to the plaza. He couldn't see any, save one, dragon. He looked forward, realizing that if he hadn't taken the time to get a higher view, he'd likely be dead by now.

The truck stopped alongside the trailer. The engine continued as he stepped out and looked at the road before him. A menagerie of derelict vehicles, in various states of disrepair and damage, littered the path before him.

He turned around. A stone bridge, collapsed over frozen water, ensured his only direction. A sarcastic smirk crossed his face.

He turned to his vehicle and hauled himself up the cab's mounted ladder. He pulled himself atop the roof and kneeled. Lifting a hatch exposed a control panel, he flipped one of the many controls, and a hum joined the rumble of the truck's engine.

He grabbed a lever and pulled it toward him. The entire truck rocked as the sloped shovel lowered. It reached near to the ground and he let up on the lever. The shovel stopped. He flipped the first control "off" and slapped the hatch closed.

He slid down the ladder and landed on the foot rail. Throwing open the door, he entered the cab and flopped into his seat. He looked over at the stove. His fingers slid the vent level closed and the light from the embers inside disappeared. He could feel the cab interior growing colder already.

He gripped the wheel and his booted foot depressed the gas. The engine revved. The truck shifted into gear. The engine roar echoed across the frozen tundra.

The truck exploded forward. Dane's body struggled against the thrashing from the broken pavement. Nevertheless, the truck stayed on course.

In an instant, the shovel made contact with the first vehicle chassis. The force and the slope of the shovel threw the rusted jalopy sailing off behind the truck. Then another, and another and another. Each impact rocked the cab, but Dane kept his foot down and his fists tight.

Finally, the shovel tossed the last roadblock aside. He relaxed and depressed the brake. The truck slowed to a stop and the brakes hissed. He dropped his left hand from the wheel and stared at his open palm.

He looked out the passenger window. The plaza was still a ways from him, but he was getting closer. He waited for any movement. Moments passed, and nothing happened.

The shovel reached it's peak position, and he flipped off the hydraulic engine once again. He stood up on the roof and looked out across the plaza. His eyes caught the faded sign "Valley Mall". He kicked the control hatch closed.

"Now, the fun part."

The truck moved forward once again. Dane kept his gaze firmly outside the passenger side, only occasionally glancing forward to maintain his course alongside the encroaching Valley Plaza. His left hand rested, upturned, on his thigh as he drove.

The tires of the truck rumbled over the rough terrain. He spotted a large hole in the road from the corner of his eye. He gripped the wheel with both hands, swerving to miss it. He jerked the wheel back on course and looked again to the right.

His pupils suddenly dilated. His left hand upturned toward his face; he felt the pulse. He looked right, and saw nothing out the window. He noticed movement in the passenger mirror.

They were on their way.

He put the truck in gear and dropped the gas pedal. The truck rocketed forward. In its wake, the dragons barreled down. Their four fingered claws dug into the ground and pavement as they tore toward the vehicle. Their massive tails whipped around in the air in the truck mirrors.

His left hand gripped the wheel as his right manned the shifter. His eyes, glued to the mirrors, barely stopped to intake the oncoming road. The truck started putting distance between itself and the dragons.

He dropped his foot on the brake and the truck began to skid. At a critical moment, he jerked the wheel left and the entire vehicle slid sideways across the battered pavement.

Dane watched out his driver window as the beasts barreled down. The truck skidded a full 180°, his eyes locked on the dragons entirely, and came to a stop facing the monsters head-on. He dropped the truck out of gear and released his feet from the pedals.

The dragons drew close. He could barely see the Valley behind them for the dust cloud they were creating. He rested his hands on the wheel gently, and closed his eyes. His lids tightened and his grip on the wheel matched. The dragons were almost upon the truck.

His head jerked to the right, his eyes popped open, and he focused on a fallen tree across the tundra, football fields away. He squinted and his eyes tensed with focus. He could feel the rumble of the approaching pack. They were meters from him.

Just as the dragons were upon the truck grill, they veered left. They arced in unison toward the open tundra. Dane sat in the cab, staring at the dead wood. The dragons moved in front of him and entered his line of sight on their path. He held his gaze as the danger passed.

The pack leader stopped at the tree, and began ripping into it with its enormous reach. Its claws sank into the wood and reduced it to splinters. The other dragons started arriving and plunging their gaping hands into the space where the tree once laid, tearing into frozen earth and sending it flying.

The last of them caught up and began its work. He broke gaze and grabbed the cab controls. The tires of the truck peeled and it was off towards the plaza. In his mirrors, he could see the monsters still ripping into the ground, sending chunks flying, and digging themselves into the earth.

He puffed his cheeks and blew air between his pursed lips. He shook his head and continued on.

Dane's boots landed on the plaza walkway. He slammed the truck door behind him. He looked down at his left palm, his fingers wiggled. He nodded. He looked around the plaza confidently. His eyes landed on the auto shop.

The shop door crashed off its hinges, slammed onto the ground and shattered into pieces. Dane's open hand remained up, a sheepish look on his face.

"Whelp," he stepped in and panned around the shop, "No ceremony here." He stepped in and around the glass shards. His heavy boots clodded on the cracked laminate floor. His eyes scanned the shelves as he moved.

The back of the shop lacked his prize. He looked right, the shelves and hooks in the corner barren. He looked left, an open doorway with daylight.

Stepping through, his eyes widened. The entire side wall of the building was collapsed down, fallen below into a sinkhole. He stepped to the edge of the hole and peered down, cautiously. It was no more than eight feet deep.

"I really hope it's not in there," he turned left as he spoke, "AH!" He jumped at the sight of a dragon mere feet from him. He stumbled back, the eyes of the dragon being the last thing he saw as he fell.

Dane awoke, resting on frozen water that his body heat had begun to melt. The frigid cold bit his senses to numbness.

"...Oh…" he groaned as his eyes struggled to focus. It was dark, and he thought he must have been out for hours. He reached back with his right hand and rubbed the back of his head. His shaking fingertips fumbled trying to assess damage.

He went to sit up and yelped. He looked over; his left arm was trapped under a rock. His mouth gaped, but no sound came out. He pushed on the rock with his right, but it wouldn't budge. He looked around; a broken pipe near his foot.

His foot dragged, scraping the metal pipe across cold earth. He lost grip for a moment, but reached again and kicked the pipe with his heel. It rolled toward his free hand.

He gripped the pipe tightly and jammed it under the rock. He heaved, then pushed the pipe up, lifting the rock just enough to free his trapped arm. He jerked it out and flopped back. His right hand massaged the damage. He seethed.

After a few moments, he relaxed and looked down. His sleeve was stained with dried blood, only noticeable as a darker spot on the already red coat. He pulled the sleeve back, peeling it off his cold, wet forearm.

The smell drifted across his nose. He knew he was in trouble. The truck would have to wait. He sat up and looked skyward. The blackness of the night afforded him no comfort.

His gloved hand gripped the uneven pavement as he hurled himself up out of the sinkhole. His face rested on the coarse ground as he caught his breath. He drug himself to his knees and turned to look back at the gaping store wall.

He squinted. He couldn't see anything. His left arm cradled itself against his torso as his right fished in his pocket. A light clicked on and illuminated through the crimson coat. He pulled it out and shined it toward the shop.

His heart sank. It was still there. The beam illuminated an eye. The light reflected back in uneven capacity from the beast's enormous blue marble. The creature did not move, nor did it visibly adjust to the extreme change in light.

Dane shook his head, not sure if he was experiencing reality or a dream. His light shone up the beast's forehead, and he realized his fortune. His shoulders dropped and he lowered the light. He sighed.

He lifted the light again. He stared intently at the horn upon the creature's head. It was miniscule in comparison to the beasts that chased him earlier. He mused to himself that the range was probably no more than five feet, with an apparatus that small. Behind the dragon, on the bottom of a rusty shelf, he spotted his prize.

"It'll have to wait now."

He put his flashlight in his mouth and rose to his feet. His right arm cupped his left up, and he looked around the complex. His light shone across several store signs until he spotted it: Joe's Pharmacy.

He stood in the blackened aisle, an ancient bottle of alcohol pinned under his left bicep as his right hand fumbled with the cap. It fell to the floor, and he jammed the protective seal open against a barren product hook. The potent scent spilled out of the bottle as he poured it over his arm. His teeth gritted as the bottle emptied.

He stepped out of the pharmacy; his arm bandaged in musty gauze. His right hand tightened the bandages and he winced. He pulled the light from his mouth and mustered back over to the open auto parts shop.

Light cascaded over the open doorway and he stepped again into the back room of the shop. He looked left; it was still there. Barely ten feet between him and a lightning fast death.

He couldn't shake the primal sensation crawling up his spine; it didn't matter what his logical self knew. He took a moment to quiet his fear. His fingers quivered as he directed the light across its body. He would likely never have a chance at this again.

He stared at the eye; enormous and blue and pupil-less. Its face came to a rounded point. Daggers protruded downward from its hot red gums. Heat radiated from its open throat, visible in the cold and unhindered by its lack of a jaw. No tongue hung from its gaping maw, though he was sure he'd seen some with dangling, pointed tongues in the past.

His light continued down, illuminating the tightness of the muscles, visibly as taught as steel fibers under the smooth, unbroken skin. At the arms, Dane noticed the unique structure starting at the elbow down. The forearm continued wider as it ended in the four, dexterous, clawed fingers.

He squatted, trying to get a good angle on the open hands. If there was one thing he wanted to get a better view of, it was the the palms. He shook his head in frustration; they were too close to the floor and blocked by the remains of its last victim.

He accepted the limitation and stood back up. He stared back at the shoulders, noting the uneven nubs and absent wings. Panning down, he admired the strong legs, and as his light ran down the length of the tail, which was considerable, he started feeling a sense of admiration. His fear washed away, and was replaced with a peaceful sensation.

He jolted himself back to reality. The thing had to move. The very thing that kept Dane alive was also going to be a major problem. He looked at the horn. It really was impossibly small.

"Five feet." He girded himself. He closed his eyes. The cold and the pain had to melt away. An eternity seemed to pass. His condition slowed him down, but he felt the moment coming. There was now only him.

He seized the moment, and his eyes popped open. He gazed at the broken floor to the right of the dragon. His focus intensified. He could see it: himself, standing on the very edge of the sinkhole. It was as clear as day; Dane was seeing Dane, standing across from himself, mere feet from the dragon's left.

The monster did not move. Dane's focus shook as he took a small step toward it with his right foot. No movement. He took another step with his left. Still, nothing. Despite the cold, a drop of sweat rolled down his temple. He gathered strength. He took one large step forward with his right. His left hand pulsed.

It moved. He jolted. Cold dust kicked up from the beast's behemoth step. Its enormous arm arced up and rocketed down toward Dane. For a split second, he saw the gaping maw in the palm, and in that same instant, it was gone.

The clawed hand crashed through the broken floor to the beast's left. The dragon dipped forward and lunged headfirst into the sinkhole. Dane barely shook himself free in time to see its tail disappear into the dark below. The impact rocked the floor and echoed across the complex.

He rolled his head back and exhaled. His heavy breath turned the air in front of his face opaque. He cautiously stepped up to the hole and pointed his light down. There it was, unmoving at the base of the hole. Dane smirked and his eyes closed.

He turned, and stepped over to where the beast once stood. There, on the bottom shelf against the front wall, he looked down. The accomplishment outweighed the prize, but he was nonetheless elated to grip the handle of the plastic container. His eyes intook the yellow letters of the dusty, gray jug, and he read them in his mind with pride. "Antifreeze."

The hood of the truck slammed shut. He threw open the driver door with his right hand and landed, once again, in the comforting seat. He shivered and rubbed his biceps rapidly. He looked down.

"Crap." He said with disdain, and opened the stove vent. Embers fell from the slots.

"Ah!" Dane threw his leg over and stomped out the burning particles. The embers became dark and scattered across the truck floor. He pursed his lips. He grabbed the bandage and pulled it tight. His right hand gripped the stick and his left hand the wheel.

The truck beams lit and cut through the night. The cab jostled over the rocky plaza parking lot. It pulled out of the plaza, turned right, and disappeared into the night.