Chapter 2: Day 9
The group walked in silence, as they usually did, spread out on different sides of the deserted highway. One thing they'd decided from the beginning was that there would be absolutely no conversations unless it was extremely necessary. Each person had a buddy whom they could give a tap on the shoulder if need be. And whoever was at the head of the troupe, usually Eric since he was voted the leader, knew to raise his hand as a signal to stop.
Beyond that, it was simply a matter of keeping up a good pace.
Arnold felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Gerald pointing ahead. Eric had raised his hand to stop them and Arnold had been too busy daydreaming to notice what they'd stumbled upon.
Stretched out before them for miles was a scattered array of ashen artillery, ghostlike and still on the deserted highway. It was all too eerie to see the marks of flame where a dragon had no doubt scattered an entire U.S. battalion with a single rushing breath. Vehicles, tanks, and even choppers were strewn about in front of them but, of course, there were no human bones to be seen.
Arnold began to feel very sick to his stomach and his bad hand twitched involuntarily. He saw the group beginning to spread out among the ruins, and Curly was approaching he and his buddy.
Weitman and Evalyn came from behind, also curious to know what was going on. They all leaned in close and Curly spoke low.
"Max thought it would be a good idea to search around for any weapons or food as we move through this area."
Or just weapons, Arnold thought sadistically as he nodded to Curly's information. He gave a little wave to the four of them to spread out like the others, and they proceeded to pick their way through the deserted battlefield. At first they didn't find much; a few hand grenades and empty canteens, and Misha found a camoflauge jacket in the cab of a truck, but no food.
"Arnold, look." Gerald said as he bent to retrieve a handgun laying on the pavement. Arnold raised an eyebrow at the sight of it.
"Is it loaded?" The doubt in his voice was not only evident, but justified. Gerald shook his head after checking.
"Nope."
Good, Arnold thought. Naturally, he would easily trust Gerald with his life, so the thought of his having a gun and possibly using it didn't bother Arnold at all. It was the thought of having guns at all that bothered him, if only because Maxwell seemed to be the type of person who'd be a little trigger-happy. He wasn't normally judgmental and rarely stereotypical, but based on the evidence against Max - and just the uneasy feeling Arnold had - he wasn't very willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. He hoped they wouldn't find any usable guns here and, therefore, would avoid any difficulties altogether. His hope would not be fulfilled, though.
At that moment he caught a movement in his peripheral vision and turned to see Curly waving to him. He was standing by an upturned truck. He waved discreetly, as though he didn't want anyone else to see him. Arnold and Gerald hurried over and, before Curly said a word, they both saw exactly what he'd called them over for.
Broken crates lay in piles inside the truck, their contents spilled out among them. Much to Arnold's dismay, said contents were piles of semi-automatics and ammunition cartridges. He blanched inwardly at the sight. The closest thing to a firearm he'd ever even come close to handling was a laser-tag gun. The idea of using a weapon of this size turned his stomach.
"What should we do?" Curly whispered, concern lacing his voice. His was quiet, but his eyes spoke the volume of his concern. Thankfully, Max Storm had wandered far enough away that neither he nor anyone else, save Misha, had noticed the three men congregating behind the truck.
Misha, who's just cast Arnold a questioning look, was motioned over to join them. When he reached them and saw why they'd gathered, both eyebrows shot up.
"Should we tell the others?" Gerald asked quietly.
Arnold's eyes drifted over the piles of firearms, trying to roughly guess how many there were. Did they really need these? They hadn't seen any dragons so far, and even if they did, guns hadn't done the army any good so what good would they be to this rag-tag team? And would having these guns in their possession cause problems within the group?
Dragon's can't be shot, but people can…Arnold shuddered at the thought. He didn't honestly believe that any situation could ever go to those extremes in their group, but he could easily be wrong. Power makes people crazy…
"Arnold?"
The blond man was brought out of his dark, random thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. They'd been talking to him and he hadn't heard them. Once again, they were all looking to him to make a decision. Arnold glanced at Curly and read his face like an open book.
"No…we should leave them here."
Curly visibly relaxed, if only a little.
"Are you sure?" Misha asked, though all three men standing there appeared to agree with Arnold's decision.
"Yeah, they won't help us anyway." He said, as though his decision needed a little justification. "We know where to find them if we should ever need them."
"Well, should we tell Eric and the others?" Gerald asked.
"No, I'll tell Eric later and explain why we left them," Arnold said, "Until then, don't tell anyone else about it just yet."
The other men nodded in agreement. Then they spread out once again so as not to draw attention. They continued their search with the others, the upturned truck and it's contents soon vanishing into the gray distance.
An hour later and quite a distance from the hidden treasury of weapons, the whole group was gathered and arguing quietly near another military truck. It's bed had a high covering over it for personnel transport. Weitman had found the key in the ignition and informed James, who did a brief check under it's hood and under the truck itself and found that it appeared to be in good working order.
The argument now was whether or not to try and start it. It was true that they would cover a lot more ground in a running vehicle, but would the noise be enough to draw the enemy's attention?
"We've already been gone more than a week. We're running out of time." Misha said.
"But if we alert a dragon and die now, everything will be lost!" Eric countered.
"We haven't seen a single dragon yet, and we probably won't out here in the middle of nowhere."
"That's true." Evalyn Capaldo added in her soft, intellectual tone. "Why would they live out here where there's no food and probably no shelter for animals their size?"
If the argument weren't so serious, Arnold might have smiled wryly at the little woman. She was not as out-spoken as Sara by a long shot, but the fact that she was the only woman in the group didn't deter her from making herself heard. She reminded him alot of Pheobe in that way. And on top of that, Weitman seemed perfectly content to let her do most of the talking. Arnold had yet to see the two of them disagree on any point.
After a long moment of consideration, Eric finally spoke. "Try it once. If it doesn't start, then it doesn't start."
Arnold thought that was a little unfair, but didn't say anything.
James hopped into the driver's seat and Eric leaned against the open window. A few seconds passed and James closed his eyes, muttering a brief but fervent prayer before turning the key. To everyone's shock, the engine sputtered and turned over repeatedly, but didn't start. James released the key and sat absolutely still. Everyone else froze as well, making everything silent as they listened for any sign of a dragon.
When they heard nothing, James looked at Eric expectantly, hoping that the other man wasn't really heartless enough to make them all walk when they were so close to having a ride.
"Try again." James said quietly, and the Australian turned the key again. The engine fought, but didn't start.
"Again." Eric said, much to James' surprise.
Praying hard, James turned the key again and the truck shuddered to life, shaking quite a bit at first, but the noise soon smoothed out to a gently hum. Arnold could hardly believe how quietly it ran.
Once again, everyone stood still, anticipating the sudden cry of a dragon in the distance. No such sound ever came, and Arnold felt Gerald slap his back, smiling.
"Alright, you're driving." Eric said, trying to remain serious, but James could tell that he was just as excited as the rest of them.
Eric then turned and pointed to the back of the truck and everyone piled in. Arnold sat close to the tailgate, holding his backpack in his lap as the truck started moving. He glanced at the Capaldo's, who sat across from him - Evalyn curled up comfortably under her husbands arm - and he immediately thought of Helga. He imagined her tucked under his own arm in the same way, and the joy that such a feeling would have brought him at that moment. The thought made his chest ache.
The whole situation was still a bit shocking to him. All throughout his childhood he never would have imagined he and his former nemesis having any sort of future together, especially this sort of future.
Well, he thought with a wry little smile, there was that one time…
He could recall quite clearly that time in elementary school when Rhonda Lloyd tried to predict everyone's future mate with a paper origami. He almost laughed out loud remembering how stunned and flabbergasted he'd been when, time and again, the origami claimed that he and Helga were matched.
"What are you grinning about?"
Arnold was pulled back from memory lane by Curly, who sat beside him with a bemused look on his face.
"Huh?" Arnold said at first, and then his face flushed bright red as though his thoughts had just been put on display for all the world to see. "Oh, uh…nothing."
Curly only grinned at him. "Ok, lover-boy, I'll leave you to your daydreaming." He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. "Say hi to Helga for me."
Arnold elbowed him before leaning back himself and settling in for what he hoped would be a nice, long ride.
A/N: Ok, guys, I'm not sure when I'll be able to get another chapter up. School's a killer. But stick with me, I have the whole story worked out...I just need to get it typed and submitted:-)