“Hewill attend me.” Holding his blanket together with one hand, the man used his free hand to grab mine.
“Uh, sure.” The medic gave me a this-guy-is-fucking-nuts look.
Both of my hands were full as well. One carried my lid with the mask in it and the other held a crazy, naked man's hand as we followed the medic to his truck. I let go of the guy to get him settled on a bench beside the truck, then set my lid down, using it as a bowl to toss my gloves into. As soon as those were off, the guy grabbed my hand again. So I sat down beside him as the paramedic did his examination. Not that I had any choice in the matter. The guy had a kung-fu grip.
“He's fine,” the medic finally announced. “At least, physically. Sir, can you tell me what day it is?”
“The day?” The man looked at me as if I could explain the question.
“Yes, the date. What is today's date? Day, month, and year.”
“Date,” the man repeated. “Oh, the numerical date. Why do you ask?”
“I'm trying to determine if you have a head injury.”
“A head injury?” The man laughed. “I'm a Dragon. Don't you recognize me, human?”
The medic and I blinked. Processed. Looked back at the man who thought he was a dragon.
Oh, fuck. Please, be a head injury. Don't let all of that go to waste.
“I'm sorry,” the medic said. “Is that like, uh, are you a member of a club or something? You're called the Dragons maybe?”
“No . . . I . . .” The man looked around, then at the vehicles around us. “What kingdom is this? What are these metal carriages?”
“Yeah, that sounds like a head injury,” the medic said. “Unless he started out crazy. I can take him to the nearest hospital for evaluation. Maybe they can do a search to see if anyone is missing a patient. It would explain why he's here. In the middle of a wildfire.” He frowned. “I'm not sure what the nearest psychiatric facility is.”
“A wildfire?” the man asked. “What do you mean? How is the fire wild?”
“It's a fire in the wilderness.” A strange feeling came over me. Again, something told me that this man was important. “It's been raging for over a week. We're firefighters.”
“You fight thefire?” the man asked as if it were a bad thing.
“Yes. So that it doesn't burn down everything in the area. People could lose their homes. Or even their lives.”
“You can't control it?”
“We're doing our best, but it's a big one. Keeps spreading.”
He stood up.
“Whoa now.” I let go of his hand to grab his shoulder. “Where are you going?”
The man tied the blanket around his waist more securely, very William Wallace, and then strode back toward the fire.
“Hey!” I grabbed his hand and pulled.
That did absolutely nothing except add me to his train.
“Someone help me!” I shouted. “He's trying to go into the fire!”
People rushed us, but the man held up a hand and stopped everyone with a look. “I will not go into the blaze. Calm yourselves.”
As if he were the fucking pope or something, people stopped and bowed. They bowed! I had to fight the urge to do the same. I don't know what it was about him. Charisma, I guess. As I gaped at him, the motherfucker led me to the edge of the black.
“What is your name?” he asked me.
He was a civilian, so I gave him my first name. “Demetrius. My friends call me Met.”
