Dance with the Dragon

Chapter 2

John's mind had slowed to such a halt that he could only stammer, "H-holly?"

Numb with disbelief, his hand moved to touch his face, as if making sure a real being was standing in front of him, and Buddy, somewhat bewildered, blocked its path and lowered it back to John's side.

"Yeah, kid. S' me."

"I... oh my god..."

His legs, weak as jelly beneath him, gave way, and he stumbled to the side, collapsing on a rotting log before he could fall to the ground. It had been true? All those nights spent tucked away with his radio, hiding his hopes from Cyn and Paul hadn't been for nothing...?

"John?"

John snapped his head upwards in surprise, and Buddy continued, speaking cautiously and slowly advancing forward as if cornering an animal.

"John's your name, isn't it? I heard you talkin' to yourself a little while back, and you waved to the sky and said, 'hello, stars', and then you sort of replied in a funny little voice, 'hello, John', and I figured..."

John gaped. "Have you... have you been following me this whole time?"

Buddy's eyes widened, and he flushed red, stuttering, "No, I... I heard you... you talk to yourself quite often, did you notice?"

"That doesn't make sense. You couldn't have heard me from all the way here."

"Well, uh, actually --" he stopped before he could go farther and shook his head. "Nevermind. It's not important."

"Not important?" John gave his head a slow shake. "Not important, of course it's important, you're not supposed to... you're not supposed to be alive!"

Buddy let out a sigh and motioned for him to move over, sitting down on the log next to him and running a hand through his hair, which John noticed had quite a few twigs tangled in it. "That was the point. Nobody was supposed to think I was still around-- and I guess I did a good job of convincing everyone, too, until you found me here."

"So I was right," he murmured to himself, "and Paul was wrong, and... why'd you hide? Don't you know how much we all miss you?"

"Well, think about it this way." He gave a sniff and pushed his glasses into place in a manner almost businesslike. "How strange would it look to you if I was the only one who survived this crash?"

"Ah." A moth fluttered a few inches in front of John, and he swatted it away, watching the fluttering of its white wings disappear into the hulking masses of tree branches. "Which leads to the question of how you did manage to survive, after all."

"Right." He gulped audibly, about to say something else, then stuck a hand out, slightly brown-colored with dust. "I s'pose we should have a formal introduction before I get into this, since I'm enough of an idiot to come this far. John? A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Charles Hardin Holley, but I think it's safe to say you know me well enough to call me Buddy."

Knew him well enough! This man was some of the happiest days of John's life, days spent with his mother in front of a record player, days laughing with Paul in his room while strumming two guitars, days looking into the faces of each and every member of his band and feeling a single thought reverberate through him, a thought that made him ecstatic with the prospect of opportunity: They were the Crickets. They were the Crickets, and we're the Beatles...

The same kind of shock passed through him as one calloused hand of a guitar player took hold of another. "Well, Buddy Holley, I'm John Winston Lennon, and I think the pleasure's really all mine, because your music's stuck with me since I first heard it when I was younger, and.." he paused, smiling a smile that was nearly childlike. 

"It sort of helped me start a revolution. I had always hoped to show you what you helped to create but... you were gone..." 

He blinked, hard, and turned back to Buddy. "Which, I guess, you really weren't. Tell me how."

Buddy chewed at his lip, mouthed something to himself, and let out a sigh, squaring his shoulders. "All right, but I'll have to show you. You swear you won't scream?"

What? John nodded, visibly confused, but Buddy only nodded back and stood up, squeezing his eyes shut. One shaking hand reached for his sleeve and pulled it back, and a familiar gleam coming from his wrist made John's eyes widen in recognition.

There was the bracelet that had seemed so odd on his wrist, starlight seeming to refract within it, and, grasping it between two fingers, he turned it to the side.

A second passed.

Two seconds.

A white cloud of smoke blasted him backward, knocking the breath out of his lungs and leaving him staring straight upward. Slowly, a blurry shape came into view, and as the air grew clearer John jerked upwards, mouth falling open.

In Buddy's place stood a--

February 6, 1959.

Policemen of Clear Lake have ventured into the forests surrounding the site of the crash in search of the body of the lost Holly. Though no physical evidence was found of his presence, several abnormal phenomena were reported such as holes in the canopy where the branches appeared to have been beaten down and large boulders pushed into one area. Upon further inspection, the branches are concluded to have been to high for any human to reach them, let alone one potentially injured in a crash, and may have been pummeled by a pair of wings.

Police dogs yet again panicked when smelling scents among the rocks, and scent-matching trials back at the station revealed that the catalyst is identified to be reptilian...