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For Lack of Camouflage
They found the egg in a clearing half a mile from the trailhead. There the trees ended abruptly, burned away a hundred yard in all directions by a colossal sweep of flame. Only the reek of sulfur, along with a few torched bones of unrecognizable origin, remained.
That, and the egg.
The egg was speckled grey and black, and was about the same size as a chicken’s egg. It blended in well with charred earth. Not well enough, though. The ash and dirt had been kicked up around it.
The clearing held a lingering sense of dread that made all the nearby animals flee in terror. Even the birds were unwilling to perch in the trees. The forest never sounded this quiet.
And it was all because of the egg.
At the edge of the clearing stood two young women. They wore olive-drab shirts tucked into mudstained trousers and black polymer combat boots. Each had a wide red armband pinned to their sleeves identifying them as members of the CDDF--the Civilian Dragon Defense Force.
These armbands were made of fireproof kevlar. They were also weighted slightly so they wouldn’t blow away if they fell off. Each one had a serial number woven on the inside specific to the person wearing it.
In addition to providing a lot of unofficial perks--free drinks at bars, discounted services pretty much wherever they shopped, and lots of positive attention at sporting events--the armbands also served as a better means of identifying bodies than metal-stamped dog tags, which melted easily.
If another patrol came by and found their armbands and nothing else, it would be inferred the two women had been killed over the egg.
One of the women, a firecracker-sized blonde named Millie, gave the egg a longing stare. “Think it tastes good?”
The other woman, named Natasha, was taller with short black hair and a bubbling red scar on her neck just barely peeking over her collar. She ignored Millie’s question and probed at the earth with the toe of her boot. “Ground’s cold.”
Millie glanced at the featureless grey sky. One of many signs of the impending autumn. “Everything’s cold.”
“Could be. Let’s get to work.”
While Natasha headed into the center of the clearing, Millie scampered back into the treeline and grabbed both their backpacks. She paused to place a marker next to the egg, then went over to where Natasha stood.
First on the agenda was soil samples. Natasha took careful note of the different varieties of melted rock. Millie dug through her backpack one more time searching for any MREs she missed the first three times.
Once the soil was adequately sampled, Natasha unpacked a quadcopter drone mounted with a rotating camera. It came to life at her command and zipped a hundred feet into the air.
Natasha considered the image on the joystick controller screen. “Look at that,” she said, tilting the screen so Millie could see.
The bird’s eye view revealed the blasted-out clearing in its entirety. Despite its appearance from the ground, the clearing was not a perfect circle but more of a rectangle. A sweeping curve of carbonized debris marked the spot where, at some point in the last few days, a dragon had carved out a space for itself in the otherwise sleepy forest.
Natasha and Millie both recognized the pattern of the fiery trail as a perfect Fibonacci spiral. That meant this was not just a place for a dragon to rest. It was a nest.
“Where’s the egg?” Natasha asked. Millie pointed to the far side of the screen, by the edge of the clearing. Natasha let out a worried little hum. “Why’s it not in the middle of the spiral like normal?”
“Critters, maybe.”
“Couldn’t be. They would know it’s a nest and avoid it.”
“Not if you’re hungry enough.”
“Just for one egg, though?”
Millie shrugged. “Maybe it’s really good.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “It probably tastes like sulfur.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s really delicious.”
Natasha called the drone back to her. “Maybe.”
The two women packed their things away and slung their backpacks over her shoulders. As they hiked back to where they had emerged from the clearing, Millie wondered aloud, “If you ate one, do you think you’d die?”
“Dragons have fire in them from birth, so there’s probably something going on there you wouldn’t want to put inside you.”
“But those guys who gave that lecture on flight patterns last month said they cooked dragon steaks. Remember? They said the grain of the meat went in Fibonacci spirals.”
Natasha let out a low groan. “Friggin’ dragons...”
“So if they ate dragon meat but didn’t die, we could probably eat a dragon egg and be just fine.”
They arrived at the edge of the clearing. The egg was still just sitting there, alarmingly out of place.
“Did you not eat breakfast or something?” Natasha asked.
“I never eat breakfast. It’s bad for your metabolism. I’m just saying, if we really wanted to--”
“We’re not eating it.”
“I know. But don’t you think this is a golden opportunity?”
Natasha turned her gaze upwards. “This place doesn’t make sense. No critter in its right mind would try to steal a dragon egg. And no one’s killed a dragon in this county in months. So where’s the dragon?”
“It probably flew off. This nest has been empty for days. It could be all the way in Europe by now.”
Natasha shook her head. “It wouldn’t leave the egg. Something’s up.”
Millie tore her eyes away from the egg. Natasha had been in the CDDF nearly four years, compared to Millie’s four months. She was a respected leader in a field otherwise dominated by men. She seized power relentlessly and never showed any emotion beyond what was necessary for the mission. Back at base, Millie clung to her side like a toddler to her mother, hungry for something new to do. She loved the structure and the attention, and acted like a brat when she felt like getting more structure and attention.
So when Natasha said something was up, Millie believed it without hesitation. She didn’t want to eat the egg any less. Nor did she have any intention of letting this go. She just trusted Natasha enough to shut her mouth at this particular moment.
Natasha spoke up. “I’m gonna call this in. Can you get the disposal kit from the truck, please?” Millie nodded. “Also, it’s no dragon egg, but there’s a granola bar in the glove compartment if you want it.”
Millie beamed and set off back into the forest. Twenty five yards and a hop, skip, and a jump over some fallen trees, Millie came to the head of a winding dirt trail fighting a losing battle with the encroaching underbrush.
Where the road ended and the untamed earth began sat their ride, courtesy of the CDDF: a beast of a V8 pickup truck some of their more misogynistic co-workers called “the titmaster.” It was the first model truck in the fleet, and as such had the dubious honor of having a big 00 painted on the side.
Somtime about four months ago, someone had painted pierced nipples in the center of the numbers. No matter how hard Millie tried, they wouldn’t wash off.
Make one dumb decision in Vegas, Millie thought, and you never see the end of it.
Lucky for her, no one really talked about Las Vegas anymore. It got torched last month.
Millie’s first stop was the cab. She tore open the passenger door and rifled through the glove box until she found Natasha’s granola bar. She paused just long enough to stuff the entire thing into her mouth before moving to the rear of the truck and hauling herself into the tailgate.
The bumpy ride had made the tailgate a bit of a mess. There was a toolbox, a bin containing axes and shovels, survival gear, several emergency heat-reflective blankets (not like they’d help against a dragon, but whatever), and a deadbolted safe.
But the thing her eyes immediately went to was the massive box-fed speargun mounted on a rotating gimbal. Her hands found the dual trigger handles. Her chewing slowed to a thoughtful pace.
Just then, the radio on her belt crackled to life. Millie leapt into the air, nearly knocking the speargun out of its locked position.
“Are you almost back?” she heard Natasha’s voice come through.
Right away, Millie knew something was wrong. She swallowed the rest of the granola bar. It went down like a jagged rock. “Yeah. What is it?”
“I think I saw something on the treeline.”
A cold sweat broke out on the small of Millie’s back. “What did you see?”
“I’m not sure what. Just get back here.”
“Should I bring the truck?”
A pause. “No. Just the kit.”
Millie knelt beside the small deadbolted safe. Inside, she found two folded-up rifles, enough ammunition for a modest final stand, and a box full of pen-sized explosive devices rigged to digital triggers. She grabbed two such bombs, along with a trigger, and stuffed them into her bag.
She made the twenty five yard run from the truck to the clearing in eerie silence. Had it been this quiet passing through the first time? She couldn’t remember.
When she got back to the edge of the clearing, she found Natasha lying belly-down in the dirt, pressing her pair of binoculars to her face. She motioned for Millie to come next to her.
A long moment passed by in silence. The quiet forest enveloped them. Millie strained to see past the treeline. Vague cloudy shapes coalesced in the distance. Grey on grey. More storms.
“I know what this is now,” Natasha said, her voice low. “This isn’t some fox getting hungry. This is a trap.”
“Dragons don’t set traps,” Millie murmured back.
“This one did. It all makes sense. She sets the egg out here and waits for us to find it. Then it dive bombs us.”
“They’re not sentient.”
Natasha shrugged. “This feels different.” She handed over her binoculars to Millie, who took them greedily. “Watch the trees, eleven o’clock. If it’s even a bird, if it’s a fly, or a mosquito--anything, you tell me.” She pulled out one of the pen-shaped explosives. “That bitch won’t see this coming.”
While Millie held watch, Natasha assembled the necessary pieces to turn the little lump of plastic into a bomb. She wanted to chastise Millie for the way she threw all these dangerous ingredients into the bag like they were school textbooks, but that kind of discipline could wait.
Once she rigged the explosive, she primed the charge and turned on the digital detonator. Ever so carefully, she laid the device next to the egg in a crook in the rock so it wouldn’t roll away. She then placed a pebble on either side of the device, just to be extra sure.
Natasha crawled backwards until she was back with Millie. “Give me my binoculars.” Millie obeyed. “On three, run quietly and don’t look back. Onetwothree--”
They stole away without another word. They jogged at a leisurely pace, not quite terrified but not quite certain of their safety, either. Their feet made soft pattering sounds in the empty forest.
As they ran, Millie thought about the eight remaining months in her conscription. She never understood the career CDDF members like Natasha, who pledged five, ten, twenty years of their lives to the force, scouring the dirt for dragon eggs for the awful, pragmatic reason that an unborn dragon’s eggshell was far weaker than a full-grown dragon’s scales.
The sensation in Millie’s gut swung from starving to sick. She picked up her pace. The backpack slapped the air out of her lungs with every step.
They made it to the truck unscathed. Millie threw her pack in the tailgate and hopped into the driver’s seat. Instead of climbing into the passenger’s seat like usual, Natasha went to the back of the truck and grabbed a box of ammo for the speargun.
Millie caught her own terrified reflection in the side-view mirror. “Natasha?”
“Everything’s fine, Millie.” She slapped the box into the loading port on top of the speargun. “Just being overly cautious.” She expertly drew the pins out of the gimble and swiveled the gun around. “Start the truck, please.”
The noise of the engine made Millie jump. At the very least, it was enough to make her forget how unsettlingly quiet the rest of the forest was.
They took off up the trail.
The wind picked up as they reached the main road. More clouds rolled in, grey on top of grey. Waist-high grass rolled like a turbulent ocean on either side of them. The interior was a vast place, full of deep colors and deeper smells. Loamy earth, passing rain, engine fumes. From their current location, it was a nine-mile straight shot into town.
Millie hunched over the wheel. Her eyes flipped from one side-view mirror to the other. Her rear-view was dominated by Natasha’s torso, and the trigger mechanism of the speargun. She could see her fingers curled around the dual triggers.
A song came to Millie’s mind, though she dared not sing it aloud. Country roads, take me home, to the place, I belong, West Virginia--
Natasha pounded on the rear window. “Pull over,” she shouted over the wind. “And kill the engine.”
Millie hit the brakes. The shoulder was really more of a steep incline leading into a ditch, so instead of wrangling with the terrain, Millie rolled to a stop right there in the middle of the road.
Millie opened the door, but Natasha held out her hand in pause.
“I’m gonna blow the egg,” she said. “Keep your ears open and be ready to drive.”
The detonator looked similar to a set of brass knuckles with a bright red button on top. Natasha squeezed the device, disengaging the safety, then pressed the button.
The explosion itself was too small to be heard from such a distance. They weren’t listening for the explosion, though. They were listening for the wails of a mother dragon falling on them from the heavens.
Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. A full minute crawled by.
“Did it work?” Millie asked.
“Shhh,” came Natasha’s reply.
Another minute crawled by.
Natasha straightened up suddenly. “Okay,” she announced, “let’s get moving again.”
The engine came to life with a roar. Eight miles to town.
The remainder of their drive was dragon-free. When the guard posts and pillboxes of the town’s outer perimeter appeared on the horizon, Millie let out a breath and let off the accelerator just a little bit.
Natasha banged on the rear window again. “Pick it up,” she barked. “Don’t slow down ‘til we’re past the lines.”
There was no sense setting up walls or hanging camouflage over the town. The enemy could fly, and its eyes were as sharp as any bird of prey’s. To counter this, the engineers who designed the town’s fortifications opted for an open concept approach, spreading guard posts and missile launchers throughout the town in a lattice configuration. No matter where the bastards tried to dive, they’d be met with withering fire.
This strategy, combined with the relative flatness of the local terrain, created quite a strange sight for Natasha and Millie as they neared the town. Signal lights placed atop each tower and launcher flashed on and off in unison, like dozens of blinking red eyes all looking at them in unison.
Natasha paid them no mind. Millie, as always, couldn’t help but be utterly entranced.
As they passed the invisible barrier between the wild and the tamed, the outside and the inside, a flood of noise hit Millie’s ears. The town bustled with activity. Armored vehicles mingled with civilian cars in a brake-checking squall. It felt good to be back. But they weren’t done yet.
They slowed to a crawl and wove their way through town to the CDDF compound in the middle of town. Where once there had been a park for families, now there stood additional fortifications, rows of tents, trailers, a helipad, and a makeshift garage for the trucks.
Natasha knew the standard procedure by heart. Millie lagged a few steps behind, copying Natasha’s lead wherever she could. They went through their gear, counting all the leftover explosive charges, the bullets, the bandages, the bolts. They returned the rifles in the safe to the armory and swept the tailgate clean of dust and dead leaves and granola bar wrappers. Millie recorded the gas in the truck and the mileage while Natasha filled out paperwork in the passenger’s seat.
Somewhere along the line, an aide worker brought them two mugs of warm coffee, which they accepted with grateful nods.
Their final task was dismounting the unloaded speargun from its gimbal and handing it off to a waiting orderly, who ran it back to the armory. That left the two of them alone on the tailgate, staring out past the town’s implied perimeter and into no-man’s land.
The clouds grew darker in the west. It wasn’t a storm, though. Somewhere behind that bank of grey, the sun was going down. Soon darkness would slip its hood over the sky, and all the earth would feel the lack of light.
“You’re from around here, right?” Natasha asked.
Millie nodded. “I remember when this place was all farms.” She turned to Natasha. “How long do you think it’ll be before we can go back to normal?”
Natasha pursed her lips. “I don’t know. How long are you in the force for?”
“Eight more months.”
Natasha nodded briskly and patted Millie on the back. “It’s gonna be a lot longer than eight months.”
Natasha turned to leave, then paused. “Almost forgot.” From her pocket, she produced something small and round wrapped in a cloth towel. “Not quite what you wanted, but oh well.”
Millie recognized the object at once. “Where did you--”
“Shhh. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have a burner and a pan in your tent, right?”
Millie clutched the object to her stomach and nodded.
“Good. You did well today. Get some rest. You’re dismissed.”
Millie waited until she was back in her tent, alone, before carefully unwrapping the cloth.
Inside was one pristine brown chicken’s egg.
That, and the egg.
The egg was speckled grey and black, and was about the same size as a chicken’s egg. It blended in well with charred earth. Not well enough, though. The ash and dirt had been kicked up around it.
The clearing held a lingering sense of dread that made all the nearby animals flee in terror. Even the birds were unwilling to perch in the trees. The forest never sounded this quiet.
And it was all because of the egg.
At the edge of the clearing stood two young women. They wore olive-drab shirts tucked into mudstained trousers and black polymer combat boots. Each had a wide red armband pinned to their sleeves identifying them as members of the CDDF--the Civilian Dragon Defense Force.
These armbands were made of fireproof kevlar. They were also weighted slightly so they wouldn’t blow away if they fell off. Each one had a serial number woven on the inside specific to the person wearing it.
In addition to providing a lot of unofficial perks--free drinks at bars, discounted services pretty much wherever they shopped, and lots of positive attention at sporting events--the armbands also served as a better means of identifying bodies than metal-stamped dog tags, which melted easily.
If another patrol came by and found their armbands and nothing else, it would be inferred the two women had been killed over the egg.
One of the women, a firecracker-sized blonde named Millie, gave the egg a longing stare. “Think it tastes good?”
The other woman, named Natasha, was taller with short black hair and a bubbling red scar on her neck just barely peeking over her collar. She ignored Millie’s question and probed at the earth with the toe of her boot. “Ground’s cold.”
Millie glanced at the featureless grey sky. One of many signs of the impending autumn. “Everything’s cold.”
“Could be. Let’s get to work.”
While Natasha headed into the center of the clearing, Millie scampered back into the treeline and grabbed both their backpacks. She paused to place a marker next to the egg, then went over to where Natasha stood.
First on the agenda was soil samples. Natasha took careful note of the different varieties of melted rock. Millie dug through her backpack one more time searching for any MREs she missed the first three times.
Once the soil was adequately sampled, Natasha unpacked a quadcopter drone mounted with a rotating camera. It came to life at her command and zipped a hundred feet into the air.
Natasha considered the image on the joystick controller screen. “Look at that,” she said, tilting the screen so Millie could see.
The bird’s eye view revealed the blasted-out clearing in its entirety. Despite its appearance from the ground, the clearing was not a perfect circle but more of a rectangle. A sweeping curve of carbonized debris marked the spot where, at some point in the last few days, a dragon had carved out a space for itself in the otherwise sleepy forest.
Natasha and Millie both recognized the pattern of the fiery trail as a perfect Fibonacci spiral. That meant this was not just a place for a dragon to rest. It was a nest.
“Where’s the egg?” Natasha asked. Millie pointed to the far side of the screen, by the edge of the clearing. Natasha let out a worried little hum. “Why’s it not in the middle of the spiral like normal?”
“Critters, maybe.”
“Couldn’t be. They would know it’s a nest and avoid it.”
“Not if you’re hungry enough.”
“Just for one egg, though?”
Millie shrugged. “Maybe it’s really good.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “It probably tastes like sulfur.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s really delicious.”
Natasha called the drone back to her. “Maybe.”
The two women packed their things away and slung their backpacks over her shoulders. As they hiked back to where they had emerged from the clearing, Millie wondered aloud, “If you ate one, do you think you’d die?”
“Dragons have fire in them from birth, so there’s probably something going on there you wouldn’t want to put inside you.”
“But those guys who gave that lecture on flight patterns last month said they cooked dragon steaks. Remember? They said the grain of the meat went in Fibonacci spirals.”
Natasha let out a low groan. “Friggin’ dragons...”
“So if they ate dragon meat but didn’t die, we could probably eat a dragon egg and be just fine.”
They arrived at the edge of the clearing. The egg was still just sitting there, alarmingly out of place.
“Did you not eat breakfast or something?” Natasha asked.
“I never eat breakfast. It’s bad for your metabolism. I’m just saying, if we really wanted to--”
“We’re not eating it.”
“I know. But don’t you think this is a golden opportunity?”
Natasha turned her gaze upwards. “This place doesn’t make sense. No critter in its right mind would try to steal a dragon egg. And no one’s killed a dragon in this county in months. So where’s the dragon?”
“It probably flew off. This nest has been empty for days. It could be all the way in Europe by now.”
Natasha shook her head. “It wouldn’t leave the egg. Something’s up.”
Millie tore her eyes away from the egg. Natasha had been in the CDDF nearly four years, compared to Millie’s four months. She was a respected leader in a field otherwise dominated by men. She seized power relentlessly and never showed any emotion beyond what was necessary for the mission. Back at base, Millie clung to her side like a toddler to her mother, hungry for something new to do. She loved the structure and the attention, and acted like a brat when she felt like getting more structure and attention.
So when Natasha said something was up, Millie believed it without hesitation. She didn’t want to eat the egg any less. Nor did she have any intention of letting this go. She just trusted Natasha enough to shut her mouth at this particular moment.
Natasha spoke up. “I’m gonna call this in. Can you get the disposal kit from the truck, please?” Millie nodded. “Also, it’s no dragon egg, but there’s a granola bar in the glove compartment if you want it.”
Millie beamed and set off back into the forest. Twenty five yards and a hop, skip, and a jump over some fallen trees, Millie came to the head of a winding dirt trail fighting a losing battle with the encroaching underbrush.
Where the road ended and the untamed earth began sat their ride, courtesy of the CDDF: a beast of a V8 pickup truck some of their more misogynistic co-workers called “the titmaster.” It was the first model truck in the fleet, and as such had the dubious honor of having a big 00 painted on the side.
Somtime about four months ago, someone had painted pierced nipples in the center of the numbers. No matter how hard Millie tried, they wouldn’t wash off.
Make one dumb decision in Vegas, Millie thought, and you never see the end of it.
Lucky for her, no one really talked about Las Vegas anymore. It got torched last month.
Millie’s first stop was the cab. She tore open the passenger door and rifled through the glove box until she found Natasha’s granola bar. She paused just long enough to stuff the entire thing into her mouth before moving to the rear of the truck and hauling herself into the tailgate.
The bumpy ride had made the tailgate a bit of a mess. There was a toolbox, a bin containing axes and shovels, survival gear, several emergency heat-reflective blankets (not like they’d help against a dragon, but whatever), and a deadbolted safe.
But the thing her eyes immediately went to was the massive box-fed speargun mounted on a rotating gimbal. Her hands found the dual trigger handles. Her chewing slowed to a thoughtful pace.
Just then, the radio on her belt crackled to life. Millie leapt into the air, nearly knocking the speargun out of its locked position.
“Are you almost back?” she heard Natasha’s voice come through.
Right away, Millie knew something was wrong. She swallowed the rest of the granola bar. It went down like a jagged rock. “Yeah. What is it?”
“I think I saw something on the treeline.”
A cold sweat broke out on the small of Millie’s back. “What did you see?”
“I’m not sure what. Just get back here.”
“Should I bring the truck?”
A pause. “No. Just the kit.”
Millie knelt beside the small deadbolted safe. Inside, she found two folded-up rifles, enough ammunition for a modest final stand, and a box full of pen-sized explosive devices rigged to digital triggers. She grabbed two such bombs, along with a trigger, and stuffed them into her bag.
She made the twenty five yard run from the truck to the clearing in eerie silence. Had it been this quiet passing through the first time? She couldn’t remember.
When she got back to the edge of the clearing, she found Natasha lying belly-down in the dirt, pressing her pair of binoculars to her face. She motioned for Millie to come next to her.
A long moment passed by in silence. The quiet forest enveloped them. Millie strained to see past the treeline. Vague cloudy shapes coalesced in the distance. Grey on grey. More storms.
“I know what this is now,” Natasha said, her voice low. “This isn’t some fox getting hungry. This is a trap.”
“Dragons don’t set traps,” Millie murmured back.
“This one did. It all makes sense. She sets the egg out here and waits for us to find it. Then it dive bombs us.”
“They’re not sentient.”
Natasha shrugged. “This feels different.” She handed over her binoculars to Millie, who took them greedily. “Watch the trees, eleven o’clock. If it’s even a bird, if it’s a fly, or a mosquito--anything, you tell me.” She pulled out one of the pen-shaped explosives. “That bitch won’t see this coming.”
While Millie held watch, Natasha assembled the necessary pieces to turn the little lump of plastic into a bomb. She wanted to chastise Millie for the way she threw all these dangerous ingredients into the bag like they were school textbooks, but that kind of discipline could wait.
Once she rigged the explosive, she primed the charge and turned on the digital detonator. Ever so carefully, she laid the device next to the egg in a crook in the rock so it wouldn’t roll away. She then placed a pebble on either side of the device, just to be extra sure.
Natasha crawled backwards until she was back with Millie. “Give me my binoculars.” Millie obeyed. “On three, run quietly and don’t look back. Onetwothree--”
They stole away without another word. They jogged at a leisurely pace, not quite terrified but not quite certain of their safety, either. Their feet made soft pattering sounds in the empty forest.
As they ran, Millie thought about the eight remaining months in her conscription. She never understood the career CDDF members like Natasha, who pledged five, ten, twenty years of their lives to the force, scouring the dirt for dragon eggs for the awful, pragmatic reason that an unborn dragon’s eggshell was far weaker than a full-grown dragon’s scales.
The sensation in Millie’s gut swung from starving to sick. She picked up her pace. The backpack slapped the air out of her lungs with every step.
They made it to the truck unscathed. Millie threw her pack in the tailgate and hopped into the driver’s seat. Instead of climbing into the passenger’s seat like usual, Natasha went to the back of the truck and grabbed a box of ammo for the speargun.
Millie caught her own terrified reflection in the side-view mirror. “Natasha?”
“Everything’s fine, Millie.” She slapped the box into the loading port on top of the speargun. “Just being overly cautious.” She expertly drew the pins out of the gimble and swiveled the gun around. “Start the truck, please.”
The noise of the engine made Millie jump. At the very least, it was enough to make her forget how unsettlingly quiet the rest of the forest was.
They took off up the trail.
The wind picked up as they reached the main road. More clouds rolled in, grey on top of grey. Waist-high grass rolled like a turbulent ocean on either side of them. The interior was a vast place, full of deep colors and deeper smells. Loamy earth, passing rain, engine fumes. From their current location, it was a nine-mile straight shot into town.
Millie hunched over the wheel. Her eyes flipped from one side-view mirror to the other. Her rear-view was dominated by Natasha’s torso, and the trigger mechanism of the speargun. She could see her fingers curled around the dual triggers.
A song came to Millie’s mind, though she dared not sing it aloud. Country roads, take me home, to the place, I belong, West Virginia--
Natasha pounded on the rear window. “Pull over,” she shouted over the wind. “And kill the engine.”
Millie hit the brakes. The shoulder was really more of a steep incline leading into a ditch, so instead of wrangling with the terrain, Millie rolled to a stop right there in the middle of the road.
Millie opened the door, but Natasha held out her hand in pause.
“I’m gonna blow the egg,” she said. “Keep your ears open and be ready to drive.”
The detonator looked similar to a set of brass knuckles with a bright red button on top. Natasha squeezed the device, disengaging the safety, then pressed the button.
The explosion itself was too small to be heard from such a distance. They weren’t listening for the explosion, though. They were listening for the wails of a mother dragon falling on them from the heavens.
Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. A full minute crawled by.
“Did it work?” Millie asked.
“Shhh,” came Natasha’s reply.
Another minute crawled by.
Natasha straightened up suddenly. “Okay,” she announced, “let’s get moving again.”
The engine came to life with a roar. Eight miles to town.
The remainder of their drive was dragon-free. When the guard posts and pillboxes of the town’s outer perimeter appeared on the horizon, Millie let out a breath and let off the accelerator just a little bit.
Natasha banged on the rear window again. “Pick it up,” she barked. “Don’t slow down ‘til we’re past the lines.”
There was no sense setting up walls or hanging camouflage over the town. The enemy could fly, and its eyes were as sharp as any bird of prey’s. To counter this, the engineers who designed the town’s fortifications opted for an open concept approach, spreading guard posts and missile launchers throughout the town in a lattice configuration. No matter where the bastards tried to dive, they’d be met with withering fire.
This strategy, combined with the relative flatness of the local terrain, created quite a strange sight for Natasha and Millie as they neared the town. Signal lights placed atop each tower and launcher flashed on and off in unison, like dozens of blinking red eyes all looking at them in unison.
Natasha paid them no mind. Millie, as always, couldn’t help but be utterly entranced.
As they passed the invisible barrier between the wild and the tamed, the outside and the inside, a flood of noise hit Millie’s ears. The town bustled with activity. Armored vehicles mingled with civilian cars in a brake-checking squall. It felt good to be back. But they weren’t done yet.
They slowed to a crawl and wove their way through town to the CDDF compound in the middle of town. Where once there had been a park for families, now there stood additional fortifications, rows of tents, trailers, a helipad, and a makeshift garage for the trucks.
Natasha knew the standard procedure by heart. Millie lagged a few steps behind, copying Natasha’s lead wherever she could. They went through their gear, counting all the leftover explosive charges, the bullets, the bandages, the bolts. They returned the rifles in the safe to the armory and swept the tailgate clean of dust and dead leaves and granola bar wrappers. Millie recorded the gas in the truck and the mileage while Natasha filled out paperwork in the passenger’s seat.
Somewhere along the line, an aide worker brought them two mugs of warm coffee, which they accepted with grateful nods.
Their final task was dismounting the unloaded speargun from its gimbal and handing it off to a waiting orderly, who ran it back to the armory. That left the two of them alone on the tailgate, staring out past the town’s implied perimeter and into no-man’s land.
The clouds grew darker in the west. It wasn’t a storm, though. Somewhere behind that bank of grey, the sun was going down. Soon darkness would slip its hood over the sky, and all the earth would feel the lack of light.
“You’re from around here, right?” Natasha asked.
Millie nodded. “I remember when this place was all farms.” She turned to Natasha. “How long do you think it’ll be before we can go back to normal?”
Natasha pursed her lips. “I don’t know. How long are you in the force for?”
“Eight more months.”
Natasha nodded briskly and patted Millie on the back. “It’s gonna be a lot longer than eight months.”
Natasha turned to leave, then paused. “Almost forgot.” From her pocket, she produced something small and round wrapped in a cloth towel. “Not quite what you wanted, but oh well.”
Millie recognized the object at once. “Where did you--”
“Shhh. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have a burner and a pan in your tent, right?”
Millie clutched the object to her stomach and nodded.
“Good. You did well today. Get some rest. You’re dismissed.”
Millie waited until she was back in her tent, alone, before carefully unwrapping the cloth.
Inside was one pristine brown chicken’s egg.
Pics
The setting and the characters:
Are quite fine, but the actual story leaves me unsatisfied. We're set up with a situation that we're told is out of the ordinary, but when the characters react to it, nothing happens. I'm waiting for the other show to drop, as they say, and I don't even get a hint that there is another shoe. The egg in the pocket at the end bothered me, too. It's a nice image, but if Millie's following Natasha around everywhere after they get back, when did Natasha have a chance to pick it up?
Like I said, though, nice world building and character work.
Mike
Are quite fine, but the actual story leaves me unsatisfied. We're set up with a situation that we're told is out of the ordinary, but when the characters react to it, nothing happens. I'm waiting for the other show to drop, as they say, and I don't even get a hint that there is another shoe. The egg in the pocket at the end bothered me, too. It's a nice image, but if Millie's following Natasha around everywhere after they get back, when did Natasha have a chance to pick it up?
Like I said, though, nice world building and character work.
Mike
Just to be clear, the story, such as it is, boils down to a joke about wanting to eat eggs. Fascinating worldbuilding, and these characters were very engaging, but strip down to the narrative, and it's vacuous. The exposition, especially early on (lookin' at you, armbands), seemed overly heavy-handed (and that detail frankly superfluous) which did not endear me personally to the style at first... either I adjusted, or the writing got more relaxed further in. I would happily read more building on this!
You're kind of front-heavy with exposition. The part about the egg being there and the appearance of the area is fine, because that's straight to the point of what the story's about, though having things be so static at the beginning of a story is, at least for me, detracting from the story's hook. Then you go into what these people's armbands are like and why, and that's where it starts to derail. That does speak to the nature of their job, but you're asking the reader to invest their attention in something they haven't really been given a reason to care about yet. You can cover that stuff later on. Right now, it also feels like it's diverting attention. These people are there to do a job, so they're not going to be focused on what to them has become a mundane detail of their work, yet that's where you're placing the narrator's attention. It feels like a mismatch.
It also starts out feeling like one of those pieces that's going to imply the story just through describing the state of things, but then we do get into dialogue and such. That was another way the beginning seemed to set up expectations that the story didn't mesh with. It's a minor-ish but subtle effect that makes it seems like the story is shifting gears.
Sentence fragments like this really create the sense of a limited narration, but that's not matching with the way the narrator introduces the characters, which is more cold and distant, needing to identify them by name and give a physical description of each: something neither character would need to do, so it doesn't fit their perspectives. You do this back and forth through the story, at times feeling more omniscient and at times more limited.
Is that the norm? Otherwise, why do they assume there weren't more eggs to begin with and a critter did take the rest?
There is a list of words I keep on hand that all authors easily overuse without realizing it, and one of those is "back." Within the span of only a few sentences, you have called the drone back, backpacks, and hiked back.
This background you're putting in about Natasha's career path and how they get along is better placed than the descriptions of them near the beginning of the story. We've been introduced to the characters by now and have a sense of who they are before you give me a history lesson about them, and it's more relevant to what's happening when you go into it. This is a better way of giving exposition.
Use of "rolled" twice close together.
Why would it be strange to them? Aren't they used to it?
Use of "in unison" twice close together.
You spell this at least two different ways.
I like these characters, but the plot didn't have much of a direction. There's a longstanding conflict against dragons, but one that seems like it hasn't always been there. I don't get any context behind that. There's some unorthodox behavior from this particular dragon, but we never see it, nor do we know whether these ladies' tactics succeeded against it. Then they go back to their city, and Natasha makes a friendly gesture to Millie, though the only context I have as to what it might mean to her was her earlier desire to eat the dragon's egg. Are chicken eggs rare now or something? Given all the other things they have, I can't imagine why they would be.
Basically, there are three threads going on, and they all stop as soon as they begin to go somewhere. So while I liked the setting and the characters, I'm struggling to find what the actual story is here.
It also starts out feeling like one of those pieces that's going to imply the story just through describing the state of things, but then we do get into dialogue and such. That was another way the beginning seemed to set up expectations that the story didn't mesh with. It's a minor-ish but subtle effect that makes it seems like the story is shifting gears.
One of many signs of the impending autumn.
Sentence fragments like this really create the sense of a limited narration, but that's not matching with the way the narrator introduces the characters, which is more cold and distant, needing to identify them by name and give a physical description of each: something neither character would need to do, so it doesn't fit their perspectives. You do this back and forth through the story, at times feeling more omniscient and at times more limited.
“Just for one egg, though?”
Is that the norm? Otherwise, why do they assume there weren't more eggs to begin with and a critter did take the rest?
There is a list of words I keep on hand that all authors easily overuse without realizing it, and one of those is "back." Within the span of only a few sentences, you have called the drone back, backpacks, and hiked back.
This background you're putting in about Natasha's career path and how they get along is better placed than the descriptions of them near the beginning of the story. We've been introduced to the characters by now and have a sense of who they are before you give me a history lesson about them, and it's more relevant to what's happening when you go into it. This is a better way of giving exposition.
More clouds rolled in, grey on top of grey. Waist-high grass rolled like a turbulent ocean on either side of them.
Use of "rolled" twice close together.
created quite a strange sight
Why would it be strange to them? Aren't they used to it?
Signal lights placed atop each tower and launcher flashed on and off in unison, like dozens of blinking red eyes all looking at them in unison.
Use of "in unison" twice close together.
gimbal
You spell this at least two different ways.
I like these characters, but the plot didn't have much of a direction. There's a longstanding conflict against dragons, but one that seems like it hasn't always been there. I don't get any context behind that. There's some unorthodox behavior from this particular dragon, but we never see it, nor do we know whether these ladies' tactics succeeded against it. Then they go back to their city, and Natasha makes a friendly gesture to Millie, though the only context I have as to what it might mean to her was her earlier desire to eat the dragon's egg. Are chicken eggs rare now or something? Given all the other things they have, I can't imagine why they would be.
Basically, there are three threads going on, and they all stop as soon as they begin to go somewhere. So while I liked the setting and the characters, I'm struggling to find what the actual story is here.