The Golden Dragon of Ang
Chapter 1--Dark Times
Numb.
That’s all he felt. He sat there in the pew, the words of the priest flowing
over and past him, none of them sinking in. Just like when his mother had told
him the news. Just like when his father had died.
He’d been through it all before. He
never thought he’d have to go through it again so soon—too soon.
Eric Scott shook himself, trying to
snap back to the here and now. It did not seem possible. His mind kept straying
to the day before yesterday, the day Gordy was killed. There had been a car
accident. Eric’s cousin, Gordy Bungee, and his family had been coming back from
their summer vacation when their SUV had been sideswiped by another vehicle
that had drifted into their lane.
Their car had flipped over the guard
rail and down an embankment. Eric’s uncle Rocco, his aunt Matilda and his
cousin Jeff had escaped with minor cuts and bruises. Gordy had not been as
lucky.
So now, just three years after his
father had died in a hiking accident, Eric found himself at a funeral for another
family member who had died much too young.
He had not been particularly close
to Gordy until this year. For one thing, at 13 Eric was two years younger than
him. He had always been closer to Jeff, who was his own age.
Still, all three had spent a lot of
time together over the past year or so. Although he could be a real jerk
sometimes, it had been Gordy who had encouraged him to keep playing hockey
after he had been ready to quit.
After a nearly fatal first practice
where he almost got his head knocked off, Eric had vowed never to play again.
Gordy would not stand for that, and became almost like a personal coach to him.
He helped Eric learn to really skate, develop his stick work and his awareness
on the ice. By the end of the season, he was no longer an embarrassment. Eric
had been looking forward to playing again this winter, but now…
The service was concluding and
everyone stood to go to their cars and drive to the cemetery. Then there would
be a gathering at his house. His mom had offered to host it. Great. No chance to
slip off home and leave the sadness and gloom behind.
What had Gordy done to deserve this?
The same thing my dad did, he thought, nothing. Why did this kind of stuff have
to happen? And why was it happening to his family?
He did not have any answers, and
that frustrated him.
###
It was dark. Eric could not see
anything. Suddenly, a sickly green light illuminated the room. It was
A black sparkling mist leaked out
from under the lid, trickled down the sides and spread out across the floor,
obscuring everyone’s feet. It crawled along the ground toward him. It chilled
him as it engulfed his shoes and his body tingled all over. A feeling of dread
crept over him.
With a creak the lid of the coffin was slowly
opened from the inside by a skeletal hand. Eric tensed, not knowing what to
expect. The coffin’s occupant sat bolt upright, and Eric gasped.
It was a corpse. Rotting flesh revealed glimpses
of the skeleton beneath. Its head turned to Eric and regarded him with worm-riddled
eyes. The zombie’s decaying lips drew back from yellowed teeth in a cruel smile
that both repulsed and intrigued him. There was something familiar about this
unholy creature.
“Hello Eric, so nice to see you again,” it
rasped. “I trust the Assignment in Vynistra City had a satisfactory
conclusion.”
That voice, it sounded like…”Selango,” Eric
whispered.
The zombie smiled wider, and part of its left ear
fell off.
“Ah, it’s good that you know me,” Selango said. “So
often people are forgotten after they’ve died. I was worried that you might not
remember, but I knew that you could not be so cold and heartless.”
Eric looked at the people crowded around the
coffin, all of whom were still sobbing, seemingly oblivious to the grisly specter.
“What are you doing here?”
“For starters, I’m dead. I can be wherever I
want. But the real reason I am here is to give you my condolences. A terribly
tragic loss—he was too young to die so senselessly. And to think that it all
could have been avoided. I don’t want you to blame yourself. It wasn’t your
fault, not really.”
“What wasn’t my fault?” Eric asked.
“Your cousin’s death,” Selango said.
“It wasn’t
my fault. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“No, that’s true. You did not cause the accident,
but you could have prevented it”
“What?” Eric could not believe it. “How could I
have done that?”
The zombie Selango shook its head. “If you had
only accepted my offer, this whole tragedy might never have happened.”
“Your offer? What offer?”
“Think my boy. Think back to that distasteful
chain of events in Vynistra City. You and your friends had me locked up in that
cell with all the other riff-raff. I offered you the chance of a lifetime. My
freedom for the most powerful weapon ever created. You turned me down. And now
your cousin lies dead.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with it,” Eric
frowned.
“The mist! Did I not say it was a source of
unimagined power? If you had heeded me, I would have
shown you how to mold it,
shape it, use it to achieve your heart’s desire. With it you could have done
anything—prevented that accident or brought your cousin back to life.”
Eric glanced down at the mist swirling around his
feet, then back at Selango. “Dad,” he murmured.
“Yes, you could have brought him back, too,” Selango said, nodding sadly. “Ah well, the road of
life is littered with missed opportunities. Still, it is a shame. What did you
gain by denying me, anyway? Freedom for some mongrel cat people you’ll probably
never see again. Was it really worth all this pain and anguish?”
The zombie gestured at the people around the
coffin. They were looking at Eric with a mixture of rage and contempt. They
began marching, arms outstretched, toward him.
“Your fault, your fault!” they cried.
“I want my son!” his aunt screeched.
“My husband, I miss my husband!” his mother
wailed.
The crowd was closing in, ready to overwhelm him.
Eric covered his head with his arms as the zombie Selango cackled and the
sparkling mist rose to blind him.
