There Will Be Dragons . . . Conclusion

After the incident the first night Rick and Reba moved in, it was several days before I saw them again. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just coincidence our paths didn’t cross.  Of course I was really busy with work and school and my son, Wade.

 “Who moved in next door, Mom?” He didn’t waste anytime noticing the old rusted out van sitting behind the apartment next door.

 “A really nice lady and her son,”  I answered.

 “Oh boy! Do you think he will play with me?”  Always looking for interaction, my sweet boy made friends with just about anyone. 

 “Actually, the son, Rick, is a lot older than you. He may be twice your age.”

 “Let’s see twice means 2 and I’m 8 so if I multiply 2 times 8 that makes . . .” I looked over to see him concentrating on the mental math. “SIxteen! Wow! He’s old!”

 “Well, he may be older than you, but definitely be nice to him. He needs to see some friendly faces.”

One morning before I left for classes at the university, I heard a knock. I had the curtain pulled across the heavy sliding glass door so I couldn’t see who it was immediately. It was Rick and he looked scared.

 “Can you come quick?  Something’s wrong with Mom,” he stood shivering from the cool November morning or perhaps fright. I followed him next door and he pointed towards the stairs.

 “Reba? Reba?” I called, taking the steps two at a time. I reached her bedroom door and she was laying on her back, arms and legs splayed in all directions. Her mouth was open but her eyes were closed. I

“Reba, wake up.” No response. “Rick, we need to call 911. Do you have a phone?”

 “No ma’m.”

 “OK, you stay right here and I’ll go call,” I said as I ran out the door.

I waited until the ambulance arrived and Reba was loaded for transport. Rick hopped into the rust bucket van and drove behind the emergency vehicle, following it to the hospital. I was torn. I needed to go to class and then to work. But this man-child needed help so I ditched my plans and went to the hospital.

Rick and I sat in the waiting room. I attempted small talk but his replies were terse and avoidant. It became very clear to me he did not want to reveal any of the past life he and his mom had lived. Eventually a doctor greets us.

 “Are you Reba’s relatives?” he asked. Rick nodded and I explained I was a concerned neighbor. He turned to Rick.

 “Your mom is severely dehydrated, son. She also has signs of dementia. How long has she been claiming dragons are trying to kill her?”

Reba stayed overnight in the hospital and I invited Rick to stay with Wade and me. He seemed relieved not to be alone and not the one in charge. We managed to get Reba home the next day and settled. Things fell back into a regular routine, at least for me. For Rick and Reba, I wasn’t so sure.

The apartment was quiet. Reba remembered telling Rick goodbye but didn’t know where he was going. She was so confused. One moment she was in her bedroom, the next she was in a castle surrounded by ladies in waiting. 

 “Where is the King?” she mumbled to herself. She located her clothes and pulled them on. “My hat, ladies.  Where’s my hat?”  She frantically searched the room throwing clothes and bed linens askew. 

 “King George is coming. I must be ready for him,” she imagined herself surrounded by a crowd. Finally she spied her pointed hat with the veil. She placed it on her head and walked down the stairs and out into the back yard of the apartment complex. Behind the row of buildings was a heavily wooded area. Reba made her way out into the woods barefoot and dressed in the heavy tunic and hat. If anyone glanced out of their window, they would have wondered what was going on. It was the middle of a workday and Reba slipped away unnoticed.

When I arrived home with Wade in tow, I saw Rick standing on the back patio with a panicked look on his face.

 “I can’t find mom!  She’s gone!” He ran off toward the woods with me and Wade trailing after. Then I heard a roar. Then a scream, then silence.

 “Wade, you stay here and wait for me, OK?” I sprinted up the hill, not knowing what I would find deeper into the thick of the woods. I heard there had been some bear sightings and even a rumor of a wildcat or two. It was hard for me to believe, but I guessed anything was possible. 

When I reached them, Reba was standing over the still body of Rick. 

“My King, you saved me but the dragon will go for another day,” she announced in a very strange British accent. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing or hearing. I knelt down next to Rick and felt for a pulse.  There was none.

“Hail King George!  The bravest of the brave,”  a delusional Reba announced. I looked for signs of an attack. No blood. No bear or wildcat tracks, but I looked closer and next Rick’s body, I saw them; footprints, several footprints of a creature with four toes; three pointing forward and one backward. It was then I knew;  there will be dragons.

Gwynn Wills is a former speech therapist, certified Amherst Writers and Artists workshop Affiliate and Leader and founder of The Calliope Writers Group. After growing up in Crawfordsville, her and her husband returned several years ago.