Dragons of the Interstate by D.H. Dunn

Author:D.H. Dunn [Dunn, D.H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Seaside Tower Press, LLC

Three:In two miles, take the ME-111 exit, EXIT 32, toward Biddeford

* * *

The Black Dragon caught up with them as they crossed into Arundel. Drake had tried every maneuver with the mount he could think of, everything from his former life--memories of being something called a wheelman pulled in and out of his mind, refusing to stay put. At times he was able to gain ground, but the unrelenting Dragon always closed the distance.

Now, pulling alongside them to their left the Dragon was revealed in all its horrible glory. The night-black scales that covered its oversized head, the smoke billowing from the corpse-gray horns. The silver teeth jutting forward, devouring the very road the beast moved upon. The smell of sulfur permeated the Bronco, the vibrations from the monster’s beating heart so powerful Drake’s mount felt like it would shake apart.

The beast bellowed its roar as it leaned into their lane, Drake unable to swerve in time. Sparks flew as the Bronco groaned under the assault, as he just barely managed to keep his mount on the road. His arm throbbed with dull pain from his wound, his grip on the reins becoming more tenuous.

The Dragon fell back slightly, losing its own footing on the slick surface. The flash of a green signpost to his right told Drake their last chance was coming up. The exit to Biddeford was only two miles away. At this speed his mount might not be able to handle the tight turn of the exit.

The dark bulk of the Dragon pulled back alongside, filling the air with thunder and the promise of death. Snow flew from the road in their wake, enshrouding the pair in a curtain of white. Like the Bronco, the Dragon flew down the road at incredible speed.

Too much speed, Drake realized. The Dragon couldn’t be planning to exit at Biddeford, it couldn’t possibly make the turn without flying off the road. The wizard knew about him, and probably knew about the Queen. Therefore they thought he was going to her, to Bangor.

There still might be a chance. The King smiled as he tapped the horn, looking for the Dragon’s attention. The beast’s rider peered over, his own face obscured by a mask as impenetrable as the darkness of the Dragon itself. Drake released his left hand from his arm, ignoring the pain. Raising his fist to the Dragon, he extended his finger in a gesture that held little meaning for him, yet gave him satisfaction all the same.

One mile to Biddeford. The exit would be there in seconds. Drake gripped the wheel with both hands as the Dragon bore into him again, willing his mind to ignore everything. Ignore the pain, the blood, the sparks and the metal. The Bronco slid to the right, coming close to the guardrail as the exit opened up. Eyes front and locked. Don’t turn until the last second.

Just as Biddeford was about to pass Drake yanked the wheel to the right, his teeth grinding as he did so.

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