Jesse James and the Dragon's Egg

Epilogue

Dirty orange glow of sunset pushed its way through the pointlessly over-large office. An unwelcome foreigner. Every surface in the empty room rejected the orange light. Mark Hayes, Arthur King's young assistant, stood at the doorway and surveyed the vacancy.

He moved across the floor, slowly at first, as if he were having to will himself to take each step, then more quickly, more confidently. His gait grew casual, almost accidental, but it glided the man unnaturally quickly across the floor of the massive office. He came to stand next to the over-large chair, resting a tentative hand on the slick leather. On closer inspection, that leather showed quite a bit of age and wear.

He allowed his fingertips to trace a corner of the tall back, delighted in the sensation of the tiny imperfections and cracks in the hide.

He drank in the view of Tallahassee in twilight. Lush, green, and vibrant, even in the dying light. It was Saturday and in Tallahassee, that meant college football. Even now, the stadium glowed like a new sunrise.

This is good.

He turned back to the chair and a strange, awkward smile spilled across his face. He spun and fell backward into that chair, draping a leg over one of the thick arms.

Yes, this is very good.

He fished a small, neatly folded, and well-used tissue from his breast pocket. He studied the ragged scrap of paper for a moment. He took careful measure of its weight and its various textures as he gently rocked the chair back and forth.

Reaching behind himself with a practiced hand, he found the secret button just under the lip of the desk. A simple application of pressure and a hidden drawer popped from the bottom of the desk. The tissue floated down into it and joined perhaps a hundred or more very much like it.

Yes. This is going to work out just fine.

The End

For Bella. And for Joe. I remember Joe. And for Brad. I remember you.

Copyright: Me. Today, and tomorrow.