Dragon's Fire, a Tommy Boom Adventure

Chapter 1

Tommy rechecks the address, he's still unsure if he found the right place as he gets out of his truck. Boom! A huge explosion knocks Tommy flat on the ground. He's glad to be on the ground as the hailstorm of debris that follows the initial pressure wave rocket past him. Some lighter pieces land on him, but without any force behind them.

Tommy instinctively crawls for cover behind and nearly under his truck, it's side windows and back glass are blown out, leaving those little round pieces of glass everywhere. Anyone that ever says these aren't sharp has never crawled across them.

Tommy can't hear well, since his ears, as well as the rest of him, were unprepared for the blast. Even through his diminished hearing he recognizes the sound of full-auto fire, some of it is the unmistakable sound of AK-47s. He feels like he's back in the war zone.

Here I am, hunkered down, nearly under my truck, shooters everywhere, yet I'm unarmed. I have a rifle behind the seat, but getting to it will be a hell of a problem with bullets flying everywhere. He crawls forward then reaches up, that's no good, he can't reach the door handle. He can barely make out sirens in the distance, coming closer, as his hearing improves a little. Maybe I can just wait it out.

The sirens get close, then stop. The cops aren't going to get in the middle of this hailstorm of bullets. I don't blame them, I damn well don't want to be here either. He fishes the truck keys out of his pocket. If the truck still runs, maybe I can drive the hell on out of here.

Tommy gets to his knees, opens the door, then crawls up and in, with one fluid motion. He pulls the door shut, but remains hunkered down below the dash level. The steel inside the doors that the government mandated years ago is stopping the bulk of the bullets that happen to hit low.

Tommy's glad he's not the main target of whoever is shooting, from either side. He's just in the way, the shooters don't give a damn. He inserts the key, the truck turns over, but fails to start. Tommy works the gas pedal with his left hand, then tries again. It coughs then catches, it is running, though not very well. He revs it up by hand. It'll have to do.

Tommy twists his body around so he can use his feet on the gas and clutch, he needs his hands to steer and work the shifter. He manages to do so, but it'll be tough, and hitting the brake will be next to impossible, but right now, brakes are the least of his worries. He stays low, doesn't try to go out into the rubble strewn street, he puts it in four wheel drive, high range, then turns the wheel to take the truck up onto the wide sidewalk. He peeks over the dash to guide the truck down the sidewalk, rubbing against the building off and on. The building tears off the mirror on the right side, a post smashes the hell out of his left one. He really doesn't give a damn about that at the moment.

At the end of the block, he turns the corner, then wheels out into the street. Cop cars are blocking off the street, so he shuts off the key, since he's not in a position to use the brakes effectively. The manual transmission truck halts almost immediately. Cops surround the truck, then haul him out. Wait a minute, I just got caught in the area when the blast went off, I don't know anything about all this shit.

A big sergeant looks him over, it's quite obvious he's not a in the gangs, Okay, we've got to frisk you, but yeah, I don't figure you for a gangbanger.

The only weapon I've got is the hunting rifle behind the seat. I couldn't get to it to use it to shoot my way out.

The sergeant replies as he finishes patting Tommy down, That's probably a good thing, if you'd started shooting, you'd only have drawn their fire, from both sides.

Tommy tries to ignore the rudeness of being frisked for no real reason. Maybe so, but my military instincts said to get a weapon and fight.

The sergeant finishes patting him down, finds nothing except Tommy's Buck knife, which the sergeant holds onto for now. Yeah, I get that, but you did the smart thing, getting the hell out of the free-fire zone.

Tommy faces the Sarge, That's just luck. I didn't think the truck would still run.

The Sarge looks at Tommy's bullet riddled truck, From the looks of it, it might not again. It gave its life to save yours though, give it a hero's burial.

"No, it will live again, we have the technology."

The Sarge smiles, Yeah, but how about the six million it will probably take?

Tommy shrugs, Well … that's another story.

Sarge hears something come over the radio on his belt, Tommy couldn't make it out, but apparently Sarge did. Later, I've got other things to do. Hang around, when we mop this mess up, the detectives will want to talk to you.

Tommy shrugs, I can't tell them much.

Eyewitnesses rarely can, but they'll still want to see what you can tell them.

Tommy smiles as he spots a donut shop, Yeah, all right. I'm going to be in that donut shop. With a donut shop right there, how come it took you guys so long to get here?

The sergeant's demeanor changes abruptly, Don't get smart, or I'll rethink cuffing your ass and tossing you in the slammer for a while.

Tommy grins a bit, Just joking, Sarge.

Now's not the time.

Tommy shrugs, then marches into the little donut shop. He looks back to see the Sarge tossing his Buck knife into the cab of the truck. The donut shop is unlocked, but empty. He helps himself to some coffee and a donut, then tosses a five on the register for it.

He sits down in the corner booth, furthest from the door. He sits so he can see the door, just in case things escalate, thinking that maybe he can run out the back if necessary, like the employees here apparently did.

Thump, thump, thump. Tommy hears something strange coming from the back room. Somebody is beating on a wall or something. Cautiously, he stands then looks through the doorway. Thump, thump, thump. The sound seems to be coming from a walk-in freezer.

As he approaches, the thumping gets louder. He opens the cooler door. A pretty woman in a waitress outfit is about to bust his head with a big roll of frozen bologna, so he slams the door shut. A muffled voice is screaming, Hey, open that door.

He hollers back, Not if you're going to beat me with a big baloney.

I might, but we should know each other better first. I was just trying to get somebody's attention. The latch is broken on this side.

Okay, put down the baloney, I'll let you out.

Okay, it's down. Tommy opens the door again. The lady runs out, shivering. Damn I thought I was going to freeze to death in there.

You might have, if I hadn't happened along. Where did everyone else go?

Hell if I know. I was getting some things out of the freezer, there was a loud boom, somebody slammed the door shut, that's how I got locked in there.

Tommy looks to the back door, still standing wide open, I think they all lit out the back.

The gal follows his gaze, Probably, they might have thought it was another earthquake.

It wasn't. It's a gang war.

Yeah, that was bound to happen. Well, I guess I need to find a new job … again.

Tommy nods, That would be advisable, in a different part of town, or some other place entirely.

This gal hangs her head, I can't afford to go far. I don't make much here.

Raid what's in the till. I figure if they split, with the place unlocked, not caring if you get out, they owe you that much.

Oh, there's probably not enough in the till to worry about, but I'll take it with me anyway, every little bit helps. What are you doing hanging out here?

I was in the middle of it when it started, I barely got out. My truck's shot to hell, the cops want to talk to me when it's over, so I thought I might as well wait in here. Coffee and donuts, this will be the first place the cops come when the mess is over.

Yeah, maybe I should stay and take care of that, it'll be a few extra bucks in my pocket.

Tommy shrugs yet again, Suit yourself. I tossed a five on the register for my donut and coffee.

The waitress starts moving to the front as she replies, An honest man, that's rare around here.

Tommy is right behind her, watching the swing of her butt with interest, I'm not from around here. I'm just here doing a job.

Doin' what?

I blow things up.

What? Did the gangs around here hire you?

Tommy shoots her his best smile, No, I do demolitions work. It's a big job taking down a lot of stuff damaged by the last big quake.

The gal nods, Yeah, no matter what building codes they put in place, it never seems to be enough.

As they enter the public portion of the shop, Tommy replies, Man's been fighting Mother Nature for ages. When she gets riled, nothing man can do will stop her.

The waitress smiles at him, Yeah, that's true. Here let me get you another cup of coffee.

As he sits down at the same booth, Tommy suggests, You have some too, a hot cup will help warm you up.

Might as well.

Tommy sits with the waitress the nametag he can finally see since her arms aren't wrapped around her mildly impressive chest tells him her name is Rita. They chit chat for a while. She's a pretty woman, well built, about five foot six with auburn hair, with just enough meat on her bones to accentuate her curves quite well. Tommy thinks she's sexy, but in the middle of this mess is probably not the time or place to try for a date.

Eventually, the cops start wandering into the place. Rita takes care of them, pocketing the money they pay, and their tips. Some detectives drift in to talk to Tommy.

They sit across from him, in their rather cheap suits, they're not very impressive fellows, the taller one asks, You were right there, what can you tell us?

The explosion was big, but placed by an amateur.

The detective's raise their eyebrows in unison, How do you know that?

Tommy thinks these two have been partners for a long time, they move alike, and even stir the coffee Rita brings them just alike, I do demolitions for a living, and had plenty of experience in the military. They could have leveled the block, maybe several blocks with that much explosive if they knew what they were doing with it.

The detective nods, Well, that makes sense, these gangs primary interest is selling drugs. They have the money to buy anything, but they're young, and have no military backgrounds or anything that would train them how to use it. That's probably a good thing.

Tommy nods, Yeah, it's a good thing none of them can shoot worth a damn either.

Now it's the detectives turn to nod in unison, the tall one keeps doing the talking, They get the full-auto weapons and use the spray and pray philosophy.

That's okay sometimes, but in an urban environment, where there's lots of cover, it's only good for suppression, not taking people out.

The detective replies, Don't ever tell them that, then we'd really have a mess.

Tommy nods, True, a band of trained men could take all the gangs out quickly, but they wouldn't want to be worrying about rights and warrants and the other red tape.

Yeah, it's got to the point where arresting anyone caught red-handed won't hold up in court if they get a slick lawyer. These gangs have the slickest, since they can afford them.

Tommy shrugs, Well, I've only got a few more days here, then I'm going back to my place in the Colorado mountains… Tommy's gaze goes to the remains of his truck still in the middle of the street, framed by the window, "Well … I was … with my truck shot to hell … I'll figure something out.

The shorter detective asks, Is there anything else you can tell us?

Tommy shakes his head, No, the initial shock wave knocked me on my ass, after that, it was all survival instinct.

The taller one takes a turn, Yeah, I'd say those instincts served you well. You want us to call a tow truck for your rig? I notice the tires are flat now.

Would you please? I'll be right out.

No problem, take your time, it will probably take it a while to get here.

Tommy nods, Fine, I'll have another cup, then I'll be out.

Whatever. Word of advice, until this mess settles down, I'd stay out of this neighborhood.

Too bad you didn't tell me sooner. I don't need the warning now.

The detective chuckles, I suppose not. Better days, bye.

Bye.

Rita ambles over to the table, Hey mister, I don't dare go near my apartment, it's in the war zone. Hell, after that blast, I may not have one anymore. You wouldn't mind giving a gal a place to lay her head for a few days would you?

Um … well … that could be a problem, I'm only staying in a motel room, though it does have two beds.

Hey, I've got nothing. My car, such as it was, is probably a shot up or blown to hell in this mess.

I know the feeling.

Rita gets right to the point, So, how bout it? I'm not in the habit of asking strange men for things, but I don't have much of a choice.

Okay, collect your money, whatever things you have here, and meet me out front.

I do have a change of clothes, I hate to wear this uniform on the street, it's terribly ugly, and the donut smell … ick.

It's not so bad, at least not with you in it.

Thanks for that.

She heads off to clean out the till, while Tommy walks outside. All four tires are now flat, chewed up by rubbing on the wall or whatever they ran up against. They did get him out of there, he can't really ask more than that.

Soon, Rita stands beside him as he's looking at his truck. Her purse and a bag of clothes are in her hands. "You managed to drive that out of there? I would have just panicked."

Tommy shrugs, "I've seen worse. Though then I didn't own those vehicles. The military vehicles hold up better, but not against RPGs and IEDs.

Rita is puzzled, They don't hold up against letters of the alphabet?

Tommy smiles, Not when RPG stands for rocket propelled grenade, and IED stands for improvised explosive device.

Oh, the military sure loves their abbreviations.

That they do.

Tommy opens the driver's side door, gets in then tries the key. The truck starts, and runs kind of okay, though it's not hitting on one cylinder for some reason. He shuts it off, then goes around to the front of the truck. He opens the hood. A bullet ripped through the fender and fender liner, just far enough to clip a plug wire. The radiator will need replaced too, it's leaking, but isn't bone dry yet. The truck will live, with a few minor repairs to get it running properly. All the tires and glass will need replaced. He won't bother with the bodywork anytime soon. It is a work truck, it doesn't have to be pretty, just functional.

A plan forms in his mind, just about the time the tow truck shows up. They get his rig loaded on the rollback, then Tommy and Rita ride in the tow truck, to a tire shop first.

He has the tow guy unload it, pays him his money, then goes into the not very fancy tire shop. He gets four new tires, on new, but just plain chrome steel rims. He has the tires mounted then put on the truck. Luckily, he's making good money on this job, so he's not hurting at the moment, but the truck repairs will sure put a dent in the money he hoped to take back home with him.

With the truck now on four good tires, he fills up the radiator, with water for now, then drives himself and Rita a little ways to a radiator shop. They don't have a radiator for it, but can repair the one that's in it, the price isn't bad for that. That only takes about an hour and a half, he had the hoses replaced too, since they might have gotten nicked. Tommy thought they were due to be changed anyway.

Next he stops at an auto parts store. Rita just tags along, saying nothing. It's odd for any woman to be so quiet. I guess she's had a hell of a day too.

Tommy has tools with him, enough for his needs. Rita is taking it all in stride, what else can she do. She does use the restroom here to get into her jeans and a spangled T-shirt. She looks good in them, Tommy notices though he's trying not to have those kinds of thoughts about her.

He gets new plugs and plug wires, then installs them in the parking lot. Nothing new about that, several others change out parts right there in the lot too. Now the truck sounds fine, it should be all right.

Tommy checks things over carefully, to make sure, but he can find nothing wrong. A new set of outside mirrors, and a new one to go over the old one inside takes care of that problem. Headlights, and the tail blinker and marker lights get new lenses and bulbs. He also buys spare fanbelts, but doesn't take the time to install them now. The ones on it look okay, but it's often hard to tell until they break. It's still fairly early in the day, so there's time to get to a glass shop.

Tommy never did find the place he was looking for, a place he thought he could get some C-4 to use on the job. The commercial stuff isn't as good. He found some, but not the way he wanted to.

Chapter 2

The glass shop has the windshield and back window, but not the side glass. It's an old truck, sometimes things like that are hard to find. The guy at the glass shop gives him the name of a wrecking yard to try.

It's a fairly long drive to the wrecking yard. As always, it's not exactly in town. It's out on the outskirts, in an industrial section of this bunch of suburbs looking for a city.

On the ride out, he and Rita chat some more, but not about anything of consequence. Both of them are kind of lost, away from home, and now literally lost as they look for this junkyard. After a few wrong turns and asking directions from a security guard at the gate to one of the factories, they find it.

Tommy ambles inside the tin building used as an office and warehouse for smaller parts. The yard is full of wrecked vehicles of almost all varieties and ages. There is a grizzled old guy behind the counter. Tommy asks, You have any side windows for an eighty-five Ford F-150 pickup?

I don't sell side windows.

Why not?

Cuz then I'd be stuck with doors with no glass in them, nobody would buy them.

Okay, you got any doors like that?

Maybe, but if you is jus needin the side winders, I got some real good heavy Plexiglas like they make airplane windows out of.

How would I make it fit?

I got some plywood templates for that model, already made up.

Okay, what would that set me back instead of just buying the doors.

Doors is spensive. They runs three hundred apiece, more if they in real good shape. I can make you up the windows for a hundred, but you has to put them in your own self.

Tommy grins, No thanks, I don't need glass in me, I want it for my truck.

Fart smeller … I means smart feller, ain't ya. I means ya got to put them in the truck doors, I ain't a gonna do that fer ya.

Tommy smiles again, he's taken an instant liking to this old guy, I can do that. How long will it take?

Bout … oh an hour maybe two, I ain't real sure.

Okay, go for it.

Awl righty, one hunnert bucks up front.

Fifty up front, the other fifty when I see them.

Aw; righty, I sees you ain't a trustin' man neither.

Not today. Tommy places a fifty on the counter. The man pockets it then goes into the back room. Tommy just looks around at the collection of small parts in the office area. Some of them are very rare and hard to find, stuff restorers would love to get their hands on. Some of it looks like pure junk to him, but there's no telling, one man's junk is another man's treasure, as the old saw says.

There's an old soda machine in a corner, so he buys two Cokes, then goes out to the truck to wait with Rita. After a while the old guy comes out with two perfect side glasses for the truck. They still have the paper on them that keeps them clean and scratch free. They won't be as good as real glass, but they won't get broken so easily either. Tommy puts them behind the seat, gives the man the other fifty, then drives away.

Tommy's careful about which way he goes this time, having Rita write down every street and turn. Someday, he might want to find his way back there, maybe soon, there was something sitting out in the lot that might be worth a special trip from Colorado, if it's what he thinks it is. Right now, he can't concern himself with such things.

When they get into the city again, Tommy stops the truck at a burger joint they happen to pass. They each have a couple of cheeseburgers, and an order of chili cheese fries, with Cokes. The burgers and chili-cheese fries are fabulous. He thought they would be, any little stand that has a line to get to it must have something good. He writes down the name of the place, Tommy's Originals, and the address. He'll definitely want to come back here as long as he's in town. After all, it's got my name on it.

It's well after six in the evening now. Tommy has learned not to bother with freeways at this time of day, unless he needs a parking lot. He uses surface streets to get to the motel he's staying at, across town. Even using the surface streets it takes nearly two hours, the traffic is that bad. He's beat, it's been a hell of a day. He points to the made bed, That one's yours. I'm taking a shower, then going to sleep. I have to be up early in the morning, I have work to do tomorrow.

Okay, I'll take one when you get done … is there someplace around here I can buy some cheap clothes? I'll need to do that tomorrow.

Tommy nods, Yeah, there's some thrift shops and things handy. There's a pretty good little restaurant on the corner. I'll make sure you have some cash, it'll be a boring few days for you. Have you decided what you want to do yet?

I have no idea. How long before you go to Colorado?

Well, if I don't take on another job around here, three or four days, most likely. I might need to take on another job to make up for what it cost to fix my truck. I haven't decided on that yet.

Rita smiles at him, trying to get him to agree, Well, if you're going to Colorado, how about a hitchhiker? I'm tired of living here.

Tommy shrugs, I suppose that'll be okay.

I don't have squat, so I'm kind of relying on you, a stranger. Of course, in this town most everyone's strangers.

That's the truth. Look, I'm not a rich man, but I do all right, I'll help you get a start, though it might not be the best.

A place to lay my head at night and a little food is all I really need. I'll find a way to pull my weight.

Won't be much of a pull. What, maybe a hundred pounds on a good day?

I wish, I'm nearly one forty now, working in that donut shop packed on the pounds. I absorbed the grease from the air.

It looks good on you, don't go trying to be one of those skinny mini model types. Most real men like a woman with a little meat on her bones.

Well … yeah, you're probably right. I've noticed I've been getting hit on a lot more lately.

I can see why. I won't, but I can certainly enjoy the view.

Rather indignantly Rita asks, Just why won't you?

I'm not going to take advantage of your predicament.

Most would.

I'm not most, I'm my own man. I live by my own rules.

It might be nice if you told me what those rules are.

"It doesn't matter, I don't expect others to live by them. They're my rules for me."

Okay, go get that shower, so I can get mine. I'd like to get that donut smell off me once and for all.

Tommy smiles, "Not for