A Force of Nature

Sinead’s eyes opposite me were wide. Her gaze scattering about the room like an animal frozen in headlights. She looked like the foxes we’d catch around our bins, looking for the best place to hide as soon as they caught the attention of something large and intimidating. That animal look we get in our eyes when things go wrong.

Only now, we were the foxes, and the thing out there was far larger and scarier than I could have ever imagined.

I struggled to keep my breath steady, the exertion of running and the fear pumping through my veins was doing its best to thwart my efforts.

“Do you think it’s still around this side?” she said, body low to the ground and voice barely a whisper.

There was a rumble then as she spoke and we both flinched. Her eyes snapped shut now, fear and panic giving way to sheer terror. The rumble travelled across the floor, into the building and through the tiles under our feet. Then it passed upwards, and I felt it bounce about my chest before it slowly dissipated. I sorely wished my fear with fade so quickly.

When the myths spoke of dragons, wyrms, and drakes, the first thought was fire and brimstone. Great creatures that brought destruction amidst flame, tooth, and claw. Gargantuan beasts that might be intelligent but were always villainous. And in Eastern mythos, you might think of noble and wise flying serpents that control the very weather. Ancient beings that have seen more than we could ever know. When you hear and read of things like that, images come to mind. Stories and tales of heroism and combat.

Nothing like this. Nothing of the fear and the terror. You wouldn’t think dragons to be cunning, stalking creatures. But that was the truth that I had discovered. Who would have thought that such creatures would revel in the hunt? In the fear and the terror inspired from the prey it slowly encircled and trapped.

The rumbling had faded now, we think that might be it growling or breathing deeply. Or simply just reminding the survivors that it was still there. Slowly, ever so slowly, I picked myself up and peered out the window above my head. It had begun yesterday, the thickest fog we’d ever seen rolling in over the hills. Of course, by the time we began choking on the fumes, it was already upon us. Fire and brimstone make a lot of smoke and that was its tool to trap us, blind us, and corral us in. The town, as much as we could see, was now enveloped and surrounded by a vast cloud of smoke. Regularly maintained by far-off snorts and great breaths from its maw.

It was almost beautiful, glittering dark smoke as the tiny particles within ignited from the heat. Black and red and orange, all around. It was also unbearably hot at all times. Sitting in one place meant slowly stewing in your own sweat, the stink of fear about us. Or at least, that is what it had said about us.

I couldn’t see it anymore, only smoke and dust.

“I think it’s gone” I whispered, turning briefly to look down at her. When I turned back, it was looking at me. Eyes as low to the ground as possible, huge and the colour of fire. They were easily taller than me and twice as wide. Pitch black slit pupils looking into my own, a glimmer of humour. I would say I imagined it but I had heard it laugh and maybe even giggle as we scattered before it.

My mouth opened to speak, to warn Sinead. But it spoke before me. I couldn’t see its mouth moving, only more smoke billowing from somewhere beneath the eyes.

“Run now, little thing. RUN.” Its voice was like a landslide, gravel and dirt and stone all tumbling down into a raucous thundering noise. It turned into a burning snarl as it took a step forward.

And we ran, bursting through the backdoor of the building. The ground shook as it moved towards the building. We cut through alleyways and down side passage ways. A creature like this could not be outrun, only avoided momentarily. And so we dove into another building, its door hanging open and windows blown in from some previous draconic encounter. Hiding again, we watched it. Its body was barely visible as it moved, wreathed in smoke and flame. A silhouette of itself, like an artistic and abstract painting of a dragon made of smoke and dust, it simply flattened the building we had just escaped. It did so at its own leisure, making no attempt at pursuit. We knew it could move quickly, we had seen it in the early moments of its arrival. Cars swerving through the smoke, making dashes for freedom. Something that size shouldn’t move so quickly and yet; the wreckage of the cars served as proof. Metal punctured and torn like cardboard, occupants turned to ash, steel frame sundered as if only a momentary distraction. The whole town had shook when it darted about, stealing us of all quick avenues of escape. Its wings beating down hurricanes on the town and a storm in the air. I think it had been cackling, laughing uproariously as it began its hunt. It seemed so entertained by our attempts to survive, our desire to live.

Sinead was sitting now with her back to the wall. Knees held close to her chest and arms wrapped around them. Her eyes were glossy, lacking the panic but entirely filled with fear.

“Patrick, how do we survive this? How do we even make ourselves believe that we could possibly get out of here alive?”

Her voice was low still but I couldn’t tell if that was the fear or the apathy that had descended upon her. I was almost jealous of her indifference, I would take that over the fear that refused to let go of my heart.

I didn’t answer. Not out of worry of being heard but because I didn’t have one. We sat in silence for a time, hearing nothing but the wind that could be soft dragon’s breath.

We both jumped when there was a vicious crack. It sounded like lightning, so close and loud that it seemed the sky might split. The silence that descended after was far worse.

We had learnt the sound of its bite halfway through the first day. Screams cut short by a sound so fierce that it surely must be another calamitous force. I couldn’t help but think back to our ancestors in history. Far off thunderstorms and events that could only be explained by modern science and knowledge. They believed them to be the work of the gods, punishing or rewarding them for their actions. When boats were overturned by Poseidon, smashed against the rocks, spewing cargo and crew alike to their doom, what retribution could they take? What could they possibly do but pray to the vengeful god not to do the same to them? If Lugh decided a poorly winter upon the farmers, blocking out the sun and starving half a town to their deaths, what was there to be done in response?

Was this the kind of fear and confusion they felt? Was this our plague or our flood, meant to cull humanity for some grievance or failed service? All I had were questions because I could fathom no answer to those questions. No solution. Praying to this beast would do nothing. Fighting it or cursing it would be even more pointless.

In the silence, I looked to Sinead. Or where she should have sat, knees pulled in close and eyes blank. She was gone. The door swung open, and I scrambled as quietly as I could to stop it from banging as the wind took it. She was outside now, slow and zombie-like she walked. The wind and dust and ash swept around her as if she herself were a Goddess. A divine being, untouched by mortal worries, living above it all. She stopped and looked upwards; her eyes weren’t blank anymore. She looked peaceful, her eyes calm and clear. And somehow, that was more worrying than anything she had done before. No panic, no fear, no apathy. My mind told me to run out and grab her, bring her back to the safety of this hiding place. But my feet remained locked in place, a tingling in the back of my animal brain told me to wait. A primal awareness and sixth sense honed over millions of years, perhaps when creatures like this were once fellow inhabitants and not invaders.

When the maw closed around her, it was with such a force that it threw me off my feet. It lunged downwards, jaws closing so fast that the sound it produced was a shockwave. The glass that remained in the window frames shattered, scattering over me as the world darkened and consciousness was snapped away.

When I woke up, it was gone. Whether it had missed me or ignored me, I was still alive. I lay there for some time, wishing that I was not. My ears were ringing, vision blurred, and it felt like I had been punched hard in the chest. It took me several minutes to bite past the pain and climb to my feet. The front of the building I was in was partially caved in. The bricks cracked, the plaster and wood shattered, glass disintegrated. By luck I had been thrown away from the destruction. Luck. Even thinking I was lucky put a foul taste in my mouth. Like bile rising up. I spat on the floor feeling angry and sorry for myself.

It took me another few minutes to look outside to where Sinead had been. The road cracked was in two, split down the middle like an earthquake. And there was nothing left of her but a pair of shoes, charred and blackened by its breath. Looking out, I saw no hint of flame or its piercing eyes. No wind or rumbling breath. I risked a step outside, keeping low to the ground. I found myself standing over her shoes and I knelt to pick one up. As I took hold and lifted, it left its rubber sole on the road, melting and peeling off. The rest crumbled, leaving only black soot and dust on my fingers. I stood there for some time, playing the dust between my fingers. Feeling the ash beneath my fingernails and crushing it in my closed fist. The world around me was aflame, consumed by heat and hatred, the world dark. Even the sunlight couldn’t pierce the clouds of ash and soot.

She was everything to me. My only reason to be. And now she was gone. Only ashen footprints beneath crumbling shoes on a road split in two.

I took hold of the second shoe and held fast to the ash and dust it left behind as it disappeared. The only thing left of her. I held it there in one fist, some of it trickling away but she was with me now. And I began to walk. Into the cloud of ash and dust. Until I could see nothing else and had to keep my eyes and mouth shut or else be blinded and poisoned, choking on the remnants of my town and those who once inhabited it. Short sharp breaths kept me moving, nose and mouth tucked into my own shirt as I pushed through the pitch-black cloud. Until I hit something and came to a stop.

It was hard and warm, unyielding to my feet and hand. I expected the ground to shake as it spoke or move. Or to feel myself be clipped out of existence by tooth, claw, or flame. But I only heard a low, long sigh. The smoke and ash were disrupted, pushed away by a mighty wind. Far to my left, I saw its eye again looking at me. A nostril flared beneath it, blowing the smog away from the area.

I felt so little, only the ash clutched in my hand of the woman who was once everything to me. And yet, as it stared, I couldn’t help but feel a sheer existential terror. Every fibre of my being told me to be afraid and I was. But I was also tired. And the only reason for surviving was now ash, clasped in my fist.

The ground rumbled then, only slightly, “hmmm… boring” it murmured and shut its eye once more. And then there was the sound of a fierce wind, like an approaching storm. Its tail, like the rest of the creature, was an untamed and unchecked force of nature. And then I was gone, ash scattered into the wind with the rest of my body. Breaking apart and joining the debris.

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