Dragon

[DerVVulfman]

Chapter Seven
The Tongue

Hunt, Fricker, Emerson and the rest of the goon squad were chowing down on the daily rations, unaware things were about to take a surprising turn.

“He sure gave her a big-ass room to play around in,” bitched Emerson. “We set it up this morning. It’s huge, man. Almost as big as the General’s. We get ten-by-ten feet at best. Is that justice?”

“Quit griping,” Fricker said.

“I like gripin’.”

“She’s very special broadstuff. Ergo cognito kumquat, special treatment.”

“What?”

“I want everybody to watch her like a hawk from here on in,” Hunt said. “Don’t let your guard down. Keep your tasers charged. She-- ”

She was entering the room with Roberts. She was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“--is definitely up to something,” Hunt finished, eyes fixed on Becky.

“I’m always charged,” Fricker said. “Who needs tazers? You’d better be careful, Kevin. She hates you.” She was walking slowly but surely to them.

“Up yours,” Hunt snarled to Fricker. Roberts stood way back, thinking, I’m impressed. She’s going to try to neutralize her chief tormentor with a charming offensive. But can it possibly work? This is the last thing I’d expected to happen. He waited curiously.

“Mm-hmmmmm,” Becky hummed in anticipation. She was two feet from Hunt.

He looked at her like a laser. “What the hell do you want? We’re eating.”

“Mm-hmmmm...”

“Sorry, Miss Keller. Lost your little clipboard? Tough!”

“Don’t NEED IT!” Becky half-shouted happily, as Hunt’s eyes bulged.” He recoiled back quite a few feet. Emerson all but somersaulted off his spot. Food spilled all over. Fricker, who’d been looking at his meatballs, whipped around like a shot, smiling. Every soldier was freaked; most had instinctively gone for their tasers but stopped short of zapping her.

“I’ll be damned,” said Hunt, still staring.

“Could be,” Becky replied, savoring their reaction. She had power at last. “Especially if my fiancé gets his hands on you.”

“Foxy, you can talk!” Fricker said cheerfully.

“Yeah.” She kept looking squarely at Hunt. “So! You want to dance with a dragon, shark-eyes? Here I am.”

“HOOOO-HOOOOO-HOOOOOOOO!!!” whooped Emerson and the others. Hunt was silent, completely taken aback. Five seconds later he said “Are you high? Doc, what’d you give her?”

Becky sighed. “What a wuss. Figures. Emerson! C’mere!”

Emerson made it halfway to her until Hunt blocked him with one arm. “As you were, private. She’s dangerous, remember? You’re too valuable to risk like that. As sergeant, it’s my responsibility to take the heat.” Roberts and Becky both laughed. “If there is any.” Hunt stepped forward.

“Man! I was this close!” Emerson complained.

“Besides, if she thinks I’m afraid of [/i]her,[/i] she’s out of her mind.” He took her arm, but Becky held up hers.

“Not so fast. I want a slow dance. Doc, do we have a radio station on that intercom? I thought so. Play something sweet. Okay, Kevin. I’m ready.”

“Oh, so now it’s Kevin, is it? This is so transparent,” Hunt said. But he started dancing anyway.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” said Roberts, and left the room.

Why am I doing this? Becky wondered. Because, stupid, if I can play up my natural cuteness, and not be too blatant about it... maybe — just maybe -- these bastards’ll start seeing me as a person. Like Roberts does.

“You’re really young to be a sergeant,” she said.

“Not really. I’m just good at what I do.”

“You’re a pretty good dancer, too.”

Hunt exhaled. “Fox, this isn’t gonna change anything.”

Becky pretended to be miffed. “Well, at least I’m trying to be nice, Kevin.”

“I know exactly what you’re trying. It’s not gonna work.”

“Fine, then. Let’s stop dancing.”

“Negative.” Hunt told her. “I don’t like leaving anything unfinished.” He drew her in closer. “And stop calling me Kevin.” The soldiers snickered.

“Sure,” Becky complied. “Um... where did you serve? Before this.”

“Kuwait, Iraq...”

“Oh. Did you ever...” she trailed off.

Hunt tensed up, but kept dancing. “Never ask that.”

“Sorry, Kevin. But I’m being trained for -- ”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Dropped a lot of bombs. He’s a stone-cold killer,” Fricker whispered, and licked Becky’s hand. The dancers halted. “He ain’t in the VSO for kicks.”

“Fricker,” Becky hissed. “I’m getting tired of this.”

“Come off it! I haven’t locked you since yesterday!” he protested.

“You’d better not lick me ever again,” she said.

He jumped forward and licked her cheek. Flick ‘em! Becky thought, and spat a small ball of flame into HIS cheek. “AHH!!!” Fricker yelled.

The soldiers jumped up, but Hunt said “Stand down! This is getting interesting...”

Becky folded her arms, feeling satisfied. About time, Hunt! But Fricker was still smiling. “That hurt, Foxy,” he growled, flicking his tongue.

“Put that thing away. I’m NOT going to tell you again,” she warned.

“Aw, c’mon, Foxy-baby, just lemme lock you in the eye -- ”

He sprung at her, tongue flicking away wildly. She ducked, whirled around and flamed him hard, right in the butt.

“OW! OW! OWWWWWW!!!” The corporal screamed, running around the mess hall like a totally deranged ostrich. Two of the soldiers grabbed portable extinguishers and doused Fricker’s burning buttocks. Two others pointed their weapons at Becky. She cut off the flame and held up her hands in surrender. Well, that’s the end of that! She thought.

The General burst in, smoking his cigar. “What the @#$%in’ hell’s going on here? Hus buns are broiled!

“It’s all under control, sir.” said Hunt.

Becky pointed accusingly at Fricker. “HE WAS LICKING ME!”

? ? ?

They brought her into the General’s office, but she was in no real trouble.

“I’m sure you know Fricker’s reputation, General. He instigated the burning. All the soldiers saw it as described. Isn’t that right, Hunt?” said Roberts.

“Pluckin-A, Doc. Fox was defending herself. I’d also like to add that had Fricker not left his rear exposed, he wouldn’t be in such pain right now.” He didn’t smile Becky giggled. “What’d I say?”

“Is he gonna pull through?” asked the General, concerned.”

Robert was trying not to smile. “Nobody ever died from a burned butt, General.” He smiled, now trying not to laugh. “Corporal Licker-- ahem-- Fricker just needs approximately 30 pounds of Desenex f-f-or his... for his... b-burned b-b-b-b...” He covered his mouth, unable to continue.

“This isn’t funny, Doc,” Hunt stressed. “Are we excused?”

“No, it ain’t. No, you’re not,” the General rasped. “I wanna make one thing poifectly clear, Hortense-- ”

“Rebecca,” Robert corrected.

“Whatever-- I suck with names-- lady, whoever, you are not to flick those fingers without explicit authorization! Do you understand?”


“Yes, ma’am.” Becky agreed. Hunt gave her a look. “Sir. Whatever.”

“No unauthorized fire. No more burning butts. Now you’re excused.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Hunt. Becky and Hunt heard the other men laughing loudly as they left the office.

? ? ?

Chris Rabikes returned to the house. “Any word, Uhura?” He asked Lizzie.

“Yes,” she answered, disengaging from the television. “Tom Christian saw Becky at White Flint Mall two days ago. He said she looked nervous, and a soldier in uniform prevented Tom from helping her.”

“Damn. Well, she’s alive... at least two days ago. Anything else?”

“Johnny and David are on their way up to White Flint. It may not be much, but they’re going to dig up whatever information they can.”

“Good. I’ve been putting up HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BABE posters all over the area. Dave must be going insane. I hope he doesn’t get out of hand.”

“I told Johnny to change him into something if he does.” Lizzie said.

“Ha-ha. By the way... where’s Moulty? Did he make it?”

“He’s better now.” she nodded.

“Damn,” Rabikes cursed. Couldn’t anything go right.?

“Slight-ly wooo-zzzy...”

“Chris, there’s something you should know,” Lizzie said gravely.

“More bad news?”

“The worst.” She paused for effect. “Pardy’s in charge now.

“Good, I trust her leadership skills more than yours,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m kidding, babe. Where’s Freshee?”

“Supermarket,” she sighed.

Rabikes spat “That dumbass and his apples! Is that all he ever thinks about! Becky could be...” he stopped. “Gotta think positive.”

Pardy, driving a Big-Wheel™, came from behind a corner. She saw Rabikes and barked “CHRISTOPHER RABIKES, FRONT AND CENTER!” Moulty and his cage were tied to the back of the kiddie-car.

“Okay, kid. I’m back. And you’re in charge? What do we do now?”

“You, I and the budgie here are gonna get airborne! Get your hands on back of his cage and push us up with your Zero-G powers! Then we’re outta here. You’ve lifted Becky before, so this should be no problem!”

“You’re right!” Chris said. “This is brilliant! We’re number one again!” He started pushing them outside. “Your father couldn’t do it better!”

“COME BACK HERE!!!” Lizzie shouted, eyes bulging. “YOU’RE NOT GOING OUT LIKE THAT! USE THE LIMOUSINE INSTEAD!”

Moulty pleaded “Please-- no more limos! Oooooohhh...”

“We’ll be okay, Lizzie,” promised Rabikes. They were already in the air.

“PARDY, GET THE BLANK DOWN HERE!!” Lizzie ordered.

“CHILL OUT, SIS! JUST KEEP CHECKIN’ THE WAVELENGTHS! WE’LL BE BACK AS SOON AS WE-- gee, Chris is that a 747?”

“CRIPES! HARD TO STARBOARD!”

“WE’RE UPSIDE-DOWN! OUTTA THE WAY, AMERICAN AIRLINES!!”

“DIDDLE-DIDDLE-DIDDLE!!”

“PEDAL FASTER”

“I’M PEDALING”

Lizzie got back into the house and went straight for the tranquilizers. “Oh, GOD...”