Chapter 16
Of course, Keres had put that hazmat suit back on after they left and checked out the truck. He’d reported nothing remained inside except for a few open bottles of water and an empty box of animal crackers. The entire hoard fumed. And, if they were smart, the scum who had left a little boy in a sealed truck should never show up near his adoptive grandma.
Brooks sat in a swing in Rogan’s backyard and tried to figure out why a group would hate the dragons so much. They protected Wyvern. Who would want to kill them? The answer was obvious—only those who were prevented from doing what they wanted by the dragons would work to eliminate them.
“Don’t forget the religious fanatics, people with mental illnesses, or the anti-dragon crew,” Rogan reminded him.
“I hate it when you eavesdrop on my thoughts,” Brooks said, frowning at the shifter, who lounged nearby against the tree trunk.
“We were both focused on the same subject. Your mind screamed at me. I couldn’t tune it out.”
“Do you think we’re going to find them?” Brooks asked.
“They’ll screw up badly at some point. They didn’t plan on dragons’ hoarding powers. That hazmat outfit of Keres came in handy. I think it’s zapping out now. Being blasted by dragon fire twice is way past its intended usage. Keres survived, but a human would have roasted inside that suit.”
“Are you all searching for another one?”
“Yes. Someone will find some in a firehouse or a warehouse. Speaking of supplies… Would you like to go search for a pharmacy with your grandmother’s meds?” Rogan asked.
“You’ll take me with you?”
“Definitely. You can hold the list of what the doctors have requested,” Rogan suggested. “Do you need anything? More jeans? Some T-shirts? Your traveling lifestyle with only what you could carry didn’t allow you to have many extras. I have some…”
“I don’t really need anything,” Brooks interrupted him. “They have that clothing exchange set up in town. I could grab something there. Others may need things more than I do.”
“Okay. Let’s go. Need to run inside first?”
“Yes!” Brooks jumped out of the swing on its next forward motion and raced for the house. Rogan followed at a slower pace. He had a few things on his list to get for his mate but thought of something else to add.
In a few minutes, Rogan flew through the clouds. While the attacks from the border had slowed down, there still were a few determined militants who attempted to take the dragons down as they left Wyvern. Rogan didn’t rise to the altitude he normally chose in order to protect his mate from the cold.
Heading toward the west, Rogan searched for an abandoned town. He didn’t want to take supplies from humans who gathered there. It didn’t take long to find a suburb with no activity.
When I land, don’t slide off immediately. Keep an eye in each direction. Let’s make sure it’s safe.
When no one came out to greet or attack them, Rogan glanced back at Brooks. Okay. Stand next to me. I’ll shift quickly.
Taking care not to injure his mate, Rogan switched forms. “Stay behind me and be ready to take shelter.”
“Rogan? Should we leave?”
“We need medicine, remember? This looks safe, but if it isn’t, don’t do anything heroic. Find a safe place to shelter and let me take care of it.”
“Do you remember I traveled all over the world before we met?”
“I do, Adventurer. Unfortunately, people are more desperate now,” Rogan reminded him.
Brooks opened his mouth to argue, only to snap it closed. He couldn’t debate that truth.
Rogan led the way through the smashed glass entry doors. Businesses had faced a choice in the days after the change. Either open for visitors to help themselves or be ransacked. Some had held on, hoping technology would come back online, and everything would be as it had existed before. Others had simply taken what their family needed and walked away. This was obviously an owner who’d delayed sharing the provision with those who needed it. From the large rusty brown stain on the floor, protecting this store had been fatal. Rogan shifted to block Brooks’s view.
“The first looters came for narcotics. Antibiotics and things like blood pressure meds weren’t in big demand. If we’re lucky, no one has come back for that now urgent need,” Rogan told him.
The metal barriers protecting the pharmacy gaped open from massive blows from what Rogan guessed was an axe. He pulled back the edges to make it safer to slide between before stepping inside. Reaching a hand back, he guided Brooks through safely as well.
“Okay. Pharmacists usually store drugs by how they’re administered—tablets in one area, injectables in another, etc. Let’s start with tablets.”
He snagged a plastic bag from the dispenser and handed Brooks a list. “Start checking alphabetically for these.”
A few minutes later, Brooks announced, “I have the first one on the list. There are two large bottles. One unopened. One half-full.”
“Leave the open one for someone else. Grab the other container. If there’s only one, take it,” Rogan decided.
Soon, Brooks held a bulging bag. “I found all the medicine except one of the generics on the list.”
“Perfect.” Rogan had several tote bags stuffed with other supplies the doctors had requested. “We have a few over-the-counter items to check for on the shelf and we’ll get out of here.” It was no surprise that the first thing he checked for was additional allergy medicine for Brooks.
As they walked through the aisles, Brooks announced, “No diapers and formula.”
“Those probably went fast.”
“Toilet paper is gone, too.” Brooks pointed to the candy selection. “Those disgusting circus peanuts are still on the shelf. No one likes those. Everything chocolate has disappeared.”
His mate’s voice sounded so sad that Rogan stopped in the grocery section and snagged a tub of cocoa powder. His cook could make something chocolatey for Brooks. One last stop in the personal aisle and Rogan grabbed the last three tubes of lubricant.
“Let’s take these for the girls,” Brooks suggested, pointing to two last boxes of tampons on the shelf.
“I’ve got a case at home. We’ll leave these for someone without supplies,” Rogan told him.
“Why do you have a case?”
“Dragons collect useful things. My mate could have been female.”
Brooks was quiet as they walked back to the front of the store. Rogan suspected his mate was worried about something. “Is there anything else you need or want?”
A sound caught his attention, pushing his worry that Brooks was upset out of Rogan’s mind. He pulled Brooks behind him as he zeroed in on that noise. Two people.
“We’ve left lots of supplies. There’s plenty for both of us,” Rogan called.
“Now, that doesn’t work for us. We want it all,” a man’s voice answered and laughed. “We’re armed and not afraid to shoot you. Drop what you have and walk out. We might let you leave without extra holes in your body.”
“I’m afraid those options don’t work for us. Here’s your choice. Put down your weapons and clear out or I’ll let my dragon flambe you,” Rogan offered his options in a pleasant tone.
“Right. Because so many dragons are pets. Does he like belly rubs, too?” a higher-pitched female voice asked sarcastically.
“He does. Those scales get itchy,” Rogan said, gesturing for Brooks to get down lower. His mate followed his instructions for once without argument, before plucking a can of bath salts from the bottom shelf.
Jerking to the side, Rogan avoided a gunshot as he changed into his dragon form. Instantly, he allowed his dragon to take over. Knocking shelving over like dominoes, the red dragon created his own space. A loud, pain-filled shout echoed inside the store. Rogan swiveled his head. One of the two hadn’t moved fast enough from between the aisles.
“Help! I can’t breathe,” he wheezed.
Rogan focused on the other one. Rage brewed inside him. One of them had fired at his mate, putting his life in danger. Rogan stalked forward, causing havoc with each giant foot he set down with a ground jarring thump. He allowed smoke to leak through his nostrils.
Flaming the last attacker would set the interior of the store on fire, destroying all its contents, including the items Wyvern needed. Rogan could escape through the ceiling with his mate, if necessary. He wouldn’t be able to rescue the items they’d collected. He’d try intimidation first.
As he moved toward the hidden foe, a second gunshot sounded. It slammed into his side and ricocheted off his scales, not injuring him in the least, but pissing Rogan off completely. As he turned to eliminate the man pinned under the shelving unit, a projectile whizzed past his snout to smack into the attacker’s forehead with a solid thump. A second thud followed as the man’s head struck the floor. He didn’t move this time. Scurrying footsteps sounded as the other ran for the door.
Good shot, Adventurer.
“I was the star pitcher of the Wyvern baseball team in high school,” Brooks told him.
Of course you were. Let’s get back to Wyvern, shall we?
“Yes, Daddy.”