(no subject)

50.

The last time Mickey had seen anywhere near this many people was when he stood in the middle of Chiefs stadium in Kansas City.

He had been there for a ceremony set to celebrate his involvement with the Science Olympiad. He hadn’t really won, but the winner had the measles, so he was bumped up.

He stood with 80,000 people cheering. There were so many people he couldn’t even conceive of it while he was there.

And they were cheering for him and the other science geeks.

These guys wanted him, at the very least, dead.

“I’ll take the vehicles,” Don proclaimed, “You work on the organics.”

It seemed a worthwhile strategy, even though he was sure he could affect those flying the ships. But then, what if they were remote controlled?

No time for musing. A black cloud of people is flying here to do violence.

He knew he would be able to use their flying in formation against them. If they were in a line and the person ahead of them became invulnerable (and therefore incredibly dense) the rapidity of their rush would cause at least some crashes.

Rugglestump turned, and they flew directly into the middle of the attacking swarm. His breath roared with flame, and the impact was dazzling.

A swooping ship was grabbed by Don and thrown into the forces that it came with.

A dozen men crashed into the leader rapidly lost his ability to fly and fell like a stone.

As devastating as their answer to the attack was, those astride the dragon’s back were becoming aware of the impossibility of the numbers they faced.

For ever one that fell, there were a dozen to take their place, and the swarm was only just beginning to arrive.

Mickey felt bad for Jeremy who was virtually powerless in this combat. Anything that got close enough for him to affect would be on a kill run.

There was more noise than Mickey had stood in the Football stadium, and all of this was weapon’s fire. There were bullets and lasers blasting around their heads and then the awful thing happened.

With a barely audible cry, Jeremy fell.

He had been hit by something that knocked him off the scales and sent him tumbling.

Mickey gave him flight, but he wasn’t conscious to use it.

Don held the dragon’s tail and swung down, just in time to catch the boy and pull him back up.

The fire had increased, and they didn’t have time to do much more than just strap him in and return to battle.

Mickey did notice that the hit was on his right side, just above the hip. He also saw that the boy was bleeding. Bleeding a lot.

In the middle of this madness, Mickey couldn’t help but hear a song in his head. It was one his father would listen to after a hard day at work.

He sent enemies crashing to the Earth while the
Eagles’s “Desperado” filled the interior of his mind. It had a delicious, hideous “going down in flames” feel to it.

If he was going to die, this was the way to do it.

Fighting the real forces of evil.

Never surrendering and never giving or asking quarter.

He thought his folks would be proud of him. He knew David would be.

Another wave of flyers came forward and Mickey sent them to the ground.

He had an idea and turned to Jeremy and gave him invulnerability.

It was a great weight on Rugglestump, he knew, but it did stop the bleeding for a while.

He figured a while was what they had.

“It has been an honor fighting with you, Don!” He shouted to his comrade.

“Don’t give up,” His partner smiled, and pointed to the Thunderbase Tower. “Help is on the way!”

There, from that turret of gold flying figures and machines were roaring to join them. They were not as numerous and the original band of opponents had been, but the sight was glorious.

The tide from the tower was cutting down the opposition like a scythe through whatever it is a scythe is supposed to go through.

Within seconds the other side was on the run.

Mickey leaned down to Jeremy, and tried not to show the water that had somehow ended up in his eyes. The water seeped out of his eyes as he told his friend, “We’re gonna make it Spitter! We’re gonna make it.”

He couldn’t help himself, now he was crying. He was sobbing.

But Don and Emo pretended not to notice, and Jeremy was unconscious.

The boy let the whole river of evil he had survived run out of him as he kneeled beside his wounded buddy.

(c) 2005 by C. Wayne Owens