Chapter 6

When the dragon told them Anna was in danger, the boys whipped around to check on her, but of course they couldn't see her in the ebon darkness. Anna's brother put his arms around her, and felt her violent trembles. "She is really chilled!" he exclaimed. "We've got to do something!" The boys worriedly realized she wasn't piping up in her usual energetic way.

Iosif felt the weight of decision bear down upon him like a steam locomotive rolling toward a misplaced penny. Who knew what lay before them if they trusted the huge and terrifying creature in her lair? If they turned to go back, would they be lost forever and die in the forest?

A very kindly reassurance came upon them. {I promise, upon my heart, to keep you safe, } fervently enunciated the dragon. {Now, come, before real damage is done by the deep winter frost.}

Iosif shrugged, unseen. Really, there was no choice, they had to get little Anna to heat before she died of hypothermia.

"Dieter," he said. "If we take turns carrying Anna, I think we can just make it."

Dieter mumbled assent, if not enthusiasm.

"Take the end of my scarf, like before," Iosif instructed Dieter. "Petruskha, hold onto Dieter. Now DON'T LET GO."

They boys, carrying Anna, set off pushing their bodies through the ever deepening drifts. The flaring torch was barely discernible through what was now become a blizzard. For a time, it seemed as though they wouldn't make it.

Rosy, the whore, stumbled along toward Jack's Sports Bar after her latest trick. Lucky she was, too, to have found one. She didn't get many, any more. The ones she did find weren't willing to pay much.

This guy, John he said his name was (uh huh, right!), sure wasn't a winner. He was old and smelly, and he complained about all the makeup she had to wear to cover the wrinkles. He had bargained her down, too, even lower than the cheapest rate she had ever charged before. A lousy ten bucks she got from him. Well, she didn't give him much, just a five minute blowjob she spat out at the end. Ten bucks would just about pay for one drink at Jack's, or one tiny bit of smack. Maybe she'd find another customer, or just her usual dealer, or even, hopefully, both would present themselves at the bar.

A old beat Impala rumbled up to a stop next to her, and she heard the mocking calls of several drunk young men issuing from within.

"Hey, you fuckin' whore, hey, you wanna get fucked?" the particularly loutish voice of the driver called. She looked up to see how far she was from the bar, and quickened her wobbly steps.

"Fuckin' bitch, look, I got some horse." He dangled it out the window. "You want some?" He smirked.

Rosy slowed and stopped, and looked longingly at the phials in the baggie. Her eyes rose to the cruel catcalling faces of the youth in the old rusty vehicle. She shuddered and began tottering toward Jack's again.

The Impala door flung open. "Look, you fuckin' whore, I'm talking to you." The monster grabbed her arm and swung her about. He leaned down, and shouted drunken fumes into her face. "You comin' with us, or what?"