| Subject: Sometimes the Dragons Are Real, Chapters 1 & 2 |
Author:
Jaron
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Date Posted: 18:40:18 12/12/01 Wed
In reply to:
Jaron
's message, "Sometimes the Dragons Are Real" on 18:37:45 12/12/01 Wed
Sometimes the Dragons Are Real, Chapter 1
by Jaron
And so, we begin...
“There he is again, Mom,” Rene whispered to me. I turned to Rene and saw him
nodding toward an old blue pickup truck across the street. “This is the third time that
I have seen him. The first time was at my school and then he was in the parking lot at
the supermarket when we went to get groceries. It’s the same man, Mom!”
The urgency in his voice made me take special note of the man in the truck. He
looked to be in his mid-thirties, with sandy hair and an old “gimme” cap on his head.
He seemed like just another non-descript citizen in the small city where Rene and I
lived. “I got his license number, Mom, and I wrote down the make and model of the
pickup. The next time Daddy comes for a visit, he can find out who the man is.
What do you think, Mom?”
“That’s a good idea Rene,” I told my dark-haired, green-eyed handsome
seven-year-old. I had no doubt in my own mind that this man was probably keeping
an eye on Rene and I for Madeline.
She had done this before, to keep us safe, she said. But I often wondered if that was
the real reason or if she had a more sinister reason. Was she trying to find out if
Michael knew about Rene and was covertly visiting us. She didn’t want us to be
distractions to Michael. She wanted his undivided attention on what she determined
was important. Rene and I did not fit into what she considered important. She had
given Rene to me to raise while requiring of me the promise that I would move far
away from Michael and take his son with me. I had agreed to her proposal because I
thought it the only way to keep both Michael and his son safe from her.
The proposal had worked, except that Michael had found out that Rene was alive, and
I had been so fearful that he would hate me for what I had done. I needn’t have
worried. Michael had come to us late one night under the cover of darkness, quieting
the nightmares that Rene sometimes had and quieting my own fears of his, Michael’s,
anger at what I had done. He told me that he knew he couldn’t be with Rene and that
I was the only person that he would want to raise his son. He knew how much I loved
that little bundle of energy that was Rene. And so, Michael secretly visited us
whenever he could get away from Madeline and her prying eyes. It wasn’t often, but
it would have to be enough. Michael would not jeopardize our safety. Quality of time
spent with his son would have to do because quantity was just not possible.
It was a quiet Friday afternoon and Rene and I were running errands in our routine
life. We had been treated to a long weekend because a teacher’s meeting had freed
Rene from school for this Friday. We planned to buy groceries, fill the car with
gasoline and take a short trip to the countryside for a picnic on Saturday. It was at
the gas station that Rene had brought my attention to the man in the blue truck.
“Don’t worry about him, Rene,” I said, “if he continues to follow us, I will take care of
him. He won’t bother us again.” Madeline had given me a number to call in case of
trouble and I just might have to ask her if good employees were hard to find if a
seven-year-old could spot her watchdogs.
“Mom, do you think he is a dragon?” Rene asked quietly. I looked at Rene with a
question in my eyes. “You know, a bad guy, like the ones Daddy fights. Remember
the story you told me?” And I nodded. I did remember the story. It was how I had
explained to Rene about what Michael did while he was away from us. And I
remembered that I had told Rene that sometimes the dragons were real, that
sometimes people were bad and tried to hurt other people and that Michael fought
and tried to destroy the bad guys, the dragons.
“Rene, I don’t know if he is a dragon, but like I said, don’t worry about him. Okay, the
gas tank is full and we are ready to go. Buckle up, we need to finish our errands.”
Rene did as I asked and soon, we were off to the bank. I needed to pick up some
cash for our little road trip. Little did I know that the errand to the bank would place
our lives, as well as Michael’s in jeopardy.
Sometimes the Dragons Are Real, Chapter 2
I had intended to use the drive-thru window to get the cash I needed for our weekend
trip, but when I started to turn in to the drive-thru, I found it barricaded. Apparently,
the drive was being resurfaced with new asphalt and the entire area was closed. So
that meant parking and going inside the bank to complete the transaction. This
would actually work out better, because I could talk to David, my loan officer, about a
home loan to build the sunroom that Rene and I had talked about earlier today. My
writing career was doing very well and I was sure that I could handle the extra
payments. Yes, I told myself, going inside the bank would not be an imposition at all.
Rene and I settled in front of David’s desk and I told David about our plans for a
sunroom to be added to the back of our house. Rene listened attentively for a few
minutes as David and I discussed the terms and amount of the prospective loan.
After a few minutes, I could sense that Rene had lost interest because he was starting
to fidget and shift around in his chair. I looked over at him and he was looking
around at the people in the bank lobby. He enjoyed watching people and trying to
determine what kind of people they were. He would often entertain me with the
backgrounds that he had developed for the people he observed. I had discovered in
time that he was very perceptive in his observations and was often right on target in
his observations of people.
After about ten minutes, I felt him tug on my sleeve. “Mom”, he whispered, “there are
dragons at the front door!” Puzzled by what he had said, I looked over at him.
“What did you say, Rene?” I asked.
“Dragons, Mom, you know, bad guys!” he said urgently.
I looked over to where he indicated. Ever the wary child, he didn’t point, but nodded
his head in the direction of the front door. Three men in long dark coats had just
entered the front doors and were making their way to three different tellers. Each
carried a black canvas bag and their eyes were quickly scanning the bank lobby.
“David,” I said, “ do those men look suspicious to you?” Using Rene’s technique, I
nodded toward the men.
“Suspicious?” he asked and then, when he looked over at the teller’s cages at the
three men, I saw his eyes go wide and he said, “Oh, my God!” I watched as his hand
dipped underneath his desk. I wondered if he was punching a silent alarm.
Rene and I looked at each other and together we looked over at the three men again.
We watched as if transfixed as the three men drew guns from their coats to point at
the tellers. The tellers, two women and a man looked at the men with horror on their
faces and started stuffing cash into the bags that had been thrust at them.
David rose from his desk and very calmly told Rene and I to come with him. We got
up and followed him as he led us to a glass-enclosed office at the back of the bank.
Rene, ever the curious one, kept glancing back watching the three men. One of the
men noticed the movement and stared straight at us. I grabbed Rene’s hand and
hurried into the office. David closed the door behind us at about the same time that
we could hear the screeching of sirens quickly approaching the bank.
The man who had turned and looked at us shouted something to his partners. What
he shouted, I could not hear through the glass, but I had no problem hearing the
gunshots as one of the men turned and shot the bank guard who had run forward
when the shouting started. He was knocked off his feet and landed hard on the
marble floor with three gunshot wounds in his chest.
Neither did the glass shut out the screams of terror that erupted at the sounds of the
gunfire. I grabbed Rene and pulled him to me as I attempted to shield him from the
sight of the violence playing out in front of us as well as any stray bullets that these
men might decide to send our way. And so, this was how our quiet Friday afternoon
was ruined. Ruined big time.
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