The Blade of Dawn

Chapter 1

The old balding tires of my truck squeal as they skid on the wet pavement.

Sheets of rain pour from the sky.

Florescent billboards, white headlights, and red tail lights blur together creating a dizzying kaleidoscope of color on my windshield.

I've heard people say that they see their whole lives flash before their eyes when they think they are about to die.

There is no time for that.

My truck is inches away from slamming into the unforgiving concrete center divider.

I hug the steering wheel as if it is a life raft, clench my teeth, squeeze my eyes shut and listen for the impact.

Instead, I hear nothing but an eerie silence.

I open my eyes and I am blinded by a glaring light looming over me. My eyes focus. Above me is a cloudless blue sky and an unnaturally large, bronze colored sun.

I must be dead.

I scramble to my feet and find that I am surrounded by rolling hills of sand made up of tiny stones that shine like gold. The sunlight bounces off of the sand, creating the illusion of movement, like sunlight reflecting off of the scales of a fish. The desert extends endlessly in every direction.

The only sound is the wind whipping across the sand until a strange rumbling noise catches my attention.

The noise grows louder and louder, as if it is coming closer.

My pulse quickens. The ground begins to shake.

A giant snake the size of a train is barreling towards me. My heart pounds in my chest. Should I run? Hide? If I am already dead, can I die again?

The snake charges towards me, its eyes rolling in it's head madly. I drop to my knees and cover my head.

Stop. Don't hit me. Please.

As I silently plead for my life, the sand beneath my feet shifts and a wall of sand rises up behind me. The snake is moving too quickly to stop and it slams headfirst into the wall.

A man riding a large horse comes into view. When he reaches the snake, he leaps off of his horse and races toward the dying body of the snake, sparing me only a passing glance.

He whips out a sword and a vial and splits open the snake's belly. Working quickly, he uses the vial to gather the snake's purple blood, which is gradually evaporating into a mist and being swept away by the wind. The man slices and drains the snake from head to tail, attempting to catch every last drop of blood before it disappears.

"What is that thing?" I say, finding my voice.

I am alone in a strange desert with a man who is chasing a giant snake and gathering its blood.

This can't be heaven.

Maybe this is a dream. Maybe I was knocked unconscious when my truck hit the center divider. I will wake up any minute, I tell myself.

"You have never seen a sand snake?" the man responds. His words are tinged with a strange accent. He wipes his hands on his dark pants and tucks the vial into his belt. When he turns to face me I see that he is young. Maybe only a few years older than me —maybe eighteen or nineteen — but his light skin is weathered from the sun.

"Are you from the Capitol?" he continues. He speaks with ease, but his grey-blue eyes are alert and his tan, calloused hands rest on the sword on his hip.

"No, I'm from Oak Ridge." I reply. I press my shoulders back and lift my chin. I might as well take advantage of his apprehension. I have no defenses and this man has a dangerous edge to him.