Protection in the Flames

There weren't always dragons in the valley. The air was still, silent of raging fire and the bellowing of leathery wings. One might ache for such a time of serenity. But perhaps without dragons in the valley, something much worse would be lurking in the mountains.

*

The screen flickered as Netflix tried to draw an entire story of small men with hairy feet through the thin cable.

"Dang." He stared at the spinning circle. The stagnant light from the TV lit the dense walls that encased us. He grunted. Though typically tranquil, my husband did not delight in interruption. This made a remote life in the mountains remarkably taxing on movie night.

"We could finish our game of chess." The board sat idle in a layer of dust on an abandoned table against the wall. I stood, but I knew better.

“Aren’t you curious to see what happens?” His eyes still fixated on the screen.

"You know how this ends, Jay. We watched it at the drive-in down in the valley." I stepped to the window. My reflection peered in at me. She looked tired and a bit older than I remembered.

"The drive-in burned down before this came out." In the reflection I could see him turn toward me. I watched him watch me.

"Has it been that long?" I turned slowly to face him not wanting to detach his gaze from me.

"Longer." His head tilted as his lips smoothed into almost a slight grin. He studied my face as if determining my ability to tolerate the next sentence. "It's over, Myra."

The movie came back to life and instantly ours turned from a life of interaction to that of observation. His eyes were back to the screen. I stared at him for a moment, in genuine awe of how quickly I could disappear. It was his way to forget. I got it. He had been in our horrid reality all week. Let him hide for a moment. Even if it was with small hairy footed men.

My mind considered his last phrase. It couldn't be over. This was the life I had come to know. Safe in our little capsule nestled in the mountain. I wouldn't even know what shoes to wear if I were to step outside. He, on the other hand, knew. He'd been entrenched in the blood of the valley at dawn and locked away safely with me at dusk. My attention slid down his sharp jawline onto his thick neck. His work had carved his body into a mound of muscle. The right corner of my mouth lifted as I noticed what he was wearing. A prancing unicorn clung to the pink shirt that barely stretched over his biceps. He'd lost a bet. I should've let him win.

Screams from the TV tore my thoughts. A glance at the screen reminded me. He was at the part where the dragon flies over a town sending the villagers in a panic under the fury of its breath. A scene that had become all too familiar, one wonders how the filmmakers came so close to what had truly become our reality.

I shifted my gaze out the window. The valley was littered with the glow of what few homes remained. The torrent of fires lingered along the east side of the mangled city. From our view in the mountains, the wind moved the trees as it always had. The stars lit the sky as they ever would. But the valley... would I recognize it without the devastation of dragons? Strange how even a tragic comfort zone can lure you into a revolt against leaving.

"Dang." The buffering must have returned. The room darkened with a click and soon he was behind me. We stared in silence as the wind slowly swept the last of the anxious flames. He stepped quietly to the steel that should've been French doors. The latch that hadn't been touched in years gave way with a clunk. He pushed the heavy door open.

"What are you doing?!" Fear dug deeply into my pounding frame. The night air rushed in with a haunting scent of melted... everything.

"It's over, Myra." He repeated as he drew me close. I shuddered, no longer familiar with the vulnerability of an open door. I looked up at him, sliding my fingers down my cheek to catch the strands of hair blowing across my face. "We got the last one today."

"How can you be sure?" As pain diluted the triumph, his dark eyes emptied.

"I took her down myself."