Read Online The Graveyard Shift by Brandon Meyers, Bryan Pedas - Free Book Online Page B

building. Like a horse, the dragon has its eyes on each side of its slender head, so it turns its face to inspect me right as I’m soaring toward it. An enormous eye that was once the color of rust explodes like a crushed tomato as the axe makes contact.
    The dragon’s shriek is so loud that it nearly ruptures my eardrums. Meanwhile its flailing has sent its rider crashing to the ground in a pile of discarded bones, and it’s swiping wildly in a blind rage. My ears are ringing, my ankles are throbbing from the fall, and my right arm is burning fiercely, but it’s not something I notice until after my axe has parted the dragon’s scales and knocked one of its ribs askew. Like Paul Bunyan felling a redwood, I take one more solid whack at its ribcage before the axe pierces its heart and sends its dying form crashing to the floor.
    The commander, having spilled over with enough force to crack his helmet, is pulling himself away from me on his back. I draw closer with my bloodied axe ready to strike.
    “With your death ends the reign of the Rohkai,” I say, raising my axe for the final blow. A thick trail of blood falls down my forearm and into the crevice of my elbow.
    “The end? ” asks the commander, uttering a laugh. “It’s only begun. I’m nothing. I’m but a peon. The great leaders are only beginning to emerge.”
    My axe falls so hard it cleaves a dent into the floor, and the commander’s head—along with the cracked bone helmet atop it—rolls off the side of the fortress wall. Only now do I notice that my forearm is split open in a nasty gash, and only now do I notice that it stings so badly I’ve locked my jaw.
    I start to reach for my bag of healing herbs when below me, the rooftop begins to tremor. I’m expecting the dragon to lift up and bathe me in flames, but instead I hear the fortress’s doors burst off the hinges. A dragon takes flight off into the night, with a Rohkai saddled firmly on its back, and then another. Then another. A wave of dragons are spewing from the fortress’s mouth, each with its own rider, each bigger and nastier and more dangerous than the last.
    The final dragon that flies out, a charcoal gray beast coated in spikes, does not hold a Rohkai. It holds a woman. She’s bound by her hands, she has curly brown hair that falls away from her face, and she has tears in her eyes as they meet mine.
    It’s Mary.
    I’m screaming for her, and I’m trying to run after her but my legs feel like rubber. One of them is throbbing, like I’m being kicked. I feel thumps against my shin. Each gets progressively harder. Suddenly I snap awake on the garage apartment floor, wild eyed and clutching my axe. A boot is nudging my leg.
    Officer Brody wrinkles his brow and offers a hand. “Jesus, nod off on the job, huh?”
    I say nothing as I take his hand and climb to my feet. My ankles are still sore—from the fall—but Brody’s strong, and I lift up easily. Only then do I ask myself why my ankles are hurting.
    “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” Brody smiles as he says it. “You reek of wine.”
    How could he possibly smell that if this is just my imagination? However, it’s not something I have time to ponder, and I answer quickly.
    “I had a tall glass with dinner. I’m housesitting. I don’t need to drive anywhere, and Mr. Howard says it’s fine.” Finally, my wits gather about me. “What are you doing in here?”
    “I was just in the neighborhood,” he says—which we both know is a lie—“and I heard a loud bang up here.” Another lie. “Thought I’d just make sure no one was breaking in.”
    “Just dropped my axe,” I reply, feeling its full weight in my hand. The only difference between an axe murderer and a gardener is employment, I think. To anyone else this might look like a threat, but as a guy who chops firewood on a weekly basis, clutching an axe doesn’t faze Officer Brody.
    “Are you okay?” he asks, and I can feel his eyes scanning me from behind