Page 23 of Ensnared
Only, it doesn’t.
Apparently, thanks to iPhones, no one needs those anymore. I swear under my breath. How am I supposed to look at where they might have their real base of operations, knowing they likely need a place on the water, without a map? I keep walking, past a seafood place and a movie theater. There are no humans anywhere to be seen—which makes me wonder whether they got out. . .or died. I don’t see bodies.
But what does that mean?
The signs are mostly unfamiliar, but the NASA Bypass isn’t a big surprise. Next to that are signs for Clear Creek. If there really is a creek, that could empty into the gulf, which they might like for the water dragons. I head back toward the furniture store in search of some kind of provisions. If one of Axel’s people catches me, I need to have a plausible story, and I’ve been out for more than an hour now.
A dragon flies overhead, and I duck under a store awning. I hide for fifteen minutes, my heart pounding, and then I creep back out. Just past the furniture store there’s a Costco—I must have been really focused on getting that gas station map book to miss it on my way out. I duck inside and find granola bars, breakfast bars, beef jerky for me, and half a dozen other things. They’re all in such big packaging that I have to break things open to stuff my backpack, but in less than thirty minutes, I’ve loaded up with all I can carry, and I’m ready to duck back out.
A few hundred feet, and no one will realize I’ve even left.
That’s when I hear it.
The whimpering’s really pathetic. It’s definitely some kind of dog.
“Come here, baby,” I call softly, hoping it’ll listen. I can’t risk being out here too long trying to coax an unknown animal.
Not a peep.
I try again. “Hey there, cutie. Come here. I can give you a treat.”
Still nothing.
Wherever it is, it’s been scared or scarred enough to stay hidden. I hope my siblings are doing the same. “Alright, well, if you won’t come out, I can’t help you. I’ve got to go.”
I’m walking away when it pokes its head out. It’s a tiny black Pomeranian with a tan face. I glance left and then right—no signs of any dragons—and crouch down again. “Come on, sweetie. Come here.” I open a granola bar and hold out a piece in my hand. “Treat?”
To my shock, it darts out and heads right for me. It tries to snatch the food and run, but I’m faster. When I pick it up, my heart sinks. It weighs almost nothing. And that’s how I wind up heading back to the store to grab a bag of dog food and some canned chicken. The dog food’s heavy, but the dog’s light enough that I don’t dare leave any of it behind.
I’m two dozen feet from the store entrance when I hear it.
A scraping, crackling sound.
That can’t be good.
As I spin around, I hear a grinding noise, like gears in a car seizing up. That’s two weird, low sounds now, which means two shifting dragons, somewhere. I don’t dare lead them to the furniture store, but I also can’t greet them while holding this little fluff. “I’m going to put you down,” I whisper. “You need to stay put when I do, alright?” I tear the top of the bag of dry dog food open and drop them both on the ground in a bush. I rip my backpack open next to it, exposing my makeshift weapons.
A fireplace poker and a decorative sword.
Well, it could be worse. I could be brandishing a broken umbrella and a snapped stick. Is it possible I have nothing to worry about? Could the dragons be friends? I mean, it’s not Gordon or Rufus—they sound the same every time they shift. But it could be another dragon sent by Axel, right?
Only, if the dragons don’t mean me harm, why would they be shifting? Only, when I turn around, it’s to face two men and a woman.
I could have sworn I heard. . .do they make the same sound when they shift to a human form? They must. And maybe they’re friendly. He is their prince, after all.
Part of me hates Axel even more than before for leaving me here and teaching me nothing. Of course, if I’d stayed put like he ordered. . .
“Hey there, fellow blessed,” I say.
“You’re a human.” The woman sniffs. “You reek of it.”
I don’t smell that bad, and it’s not my fault Axel dropped me somewhere without a proper bathroom. “I’m ensnared,” I say.
“Then where’s your visor?” Her smile isn’t reassuring.
My visor? “I, uh, left it back in my den.” I’m proud of my quick thinking.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” the woman says. “We’re tasked to round up any human stragglers and bring them in to be assigned. If you really are ensnared, you can sort it out there.”
