Dragon

[DerVVulfman]

Chapter Eight
Man on Fire

After the relatively good day she had, Becky was sleeping like a baby.

Something stirred under her bed. It was a 185-pound man. The figure, well-trained in military stealth, managed to clear the underside of the bed without making a sound. It was pitch-black in Becky’s room. The figure stared at the bed, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A few minutes later, he moved...

Becky awoke, sensing... something. No noise, nothing visible. But something was different. She peered drowsily into the darkness, but didn’t move.

Someone was fumbling with the hooks on her overalls.

Becky screamed a torrent of fire. The room lit up with an orange glow. Fricker screamed. His tongue was on fire. So were his arms, legs and torso. It took less than a second for it to spread. “AAAAHHHH!!!”

Becky had the flame going for roughly three seconds. It was more than enough. She flicked her fingers again, stopping the flow-- and kept screaming. She fell back against a wall, immobilized with horror, her screams were mixing with Fricker’s.

About 30 seconds later, her door boomed open. Hunt, Emerson and three more soldiers burst in. All carried heavy-duty extinguishers. Emerson had Doctor Robert’s ultra-cold pacifier. The men shouted all over each other.

“SHIT!”

“WHAT THE HELL?”

“HE’S BURNING UP!”

“MEDIC! MEDDDIC!” That one came from Fricker.

Emerson covered Becky, but it was impossible to tell which one was more horrified. The other soldiers let loose, spraying Fricker repeatedly. His body wriggled, spasmed, and fell to the floor like a ton of burned bricks.

“SOMEBODY GET ROBERTS!!!” Hunt screamed. He was inspecting the damage, but he didn’t know where to start. Fricker wasn’t moving.

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO KILL HIM!” Becky pleaded urgently. “I DIDN’T WANT-- he was going to-- he was going to... ” She tried to stop shuddering.

“I get the picture, Fox,” Hunt interrupted. “You stay right there. Just don’t move.” He was closest to the charbroiled soldier. “You stupid bastard,” he muttered to Fricker, “of all the times to show your saliva. DAMN!”

? ? ?

Now the VSO squad had two black soldiers, except for Fricker’s beet-red face...

Becky was distraught. Things had been going so well. Hunt was loosening up; she could talk, laugh or do anything a normal teenager could do. Now, thanks to Fricker, it was straight back to awful again. Like the burning of Pardy, only five times worse. Three hours ago, after the butt-burning, she was actually starting to like her power.

Using it now had changed all that. Hunt’s expression was neutral, but all the other soldiers were visibly afraid of her. It showed in their eyes. They charged their tasers, trying not to look at the blackened mass of Corporal Fricker...