False Dawn #8: “Lights Out”
Part Two of Three: Birds of the Flare
Short Story Format
Devin Leigh Michaels
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
NIGHT
Okay, I still haven’t said why I hate Reger.
Have some patience, will you? I’m getting there.
SO! We’re surrounded by this moshpit of robot-suited commandos and quasi-super federal agents, and out of no where, this flying blue-fire were-phoenix shows up. Now, you’d think Casia would be going crazy. I mean, really, how many of these creatures can there be? (No offense, Casia, but creature, monster, fire-breathing bird—they’re all not good names.)
All she can say is: “Reger?”
Of course she knows him. Why wouldn’t she? I mean, I know all the brown-haired male fourteen year olds in America, too.
And the blue-fire phoenix, of course, glances back at her with this confident and oh-so-suave smirk.
“I always know when you need me, hottie.”
I just know Casia’s going to give it to him. They’ll be nothing left of his blue-fire ass because she doesn’t even let Lance call her “dame.”
But she only smiles hopefully. “Reger…I thought—I had—How could—”
I whirl to Lance, whose face tenses. The blue flames cast a dark scowl upon his features, but a moment later, the tension melts. He says nothing, only watches the exchange between the two were-phoenixes.
Am I the only one lost here?
A green laser zips past Reger, and he hardly avoids the shot. He whirls and points with a blue-fired finger, which shoots dark flames and cuts off the approaching army from us.
“GO!” he screams. “I’ll take care of these people!”
“No!” Casia takes flight as Sierra claps her hands to disperse of Reger’s flames. Casia retaliates with her own fire. “Lance, get—”
“Got it!” Lance clamps his hand down on my shoulder and thumbs backward. “Let’s go.”
“But what about—”
Lance jerks me back and drags me along with him. “Let the birds have their fun.”
