Degan Shore: Part Three

A Story by Raven Starhawk

They happened upon a red two door Ford. Whether it was luck or something more, Lucas hadn't decided. The street was cloaked under a veil of darkness. The car had not been locked. It was quite easy to slip inside unseen. What added to his wonder was how calm and even helpful Degan was at times.

He ushered the balding Oz in first and then Degan before he slid behind the steering wheel and started to reach under for the wires. A voice halted him.

"Try the visor," suggested Degan whose eyes were crisp jewels lodged in his skull.

Lucas pulled down the visor and caught the keys in his hand as they feel free. There cling and clang rang in the deafening silence as he spent him a glance. He tried a shiny short key. When it did not fit he moved on to the next. This one fit with ease in the ignition. He gave is a turn and the engine purred.

"How did you know?" Oz asked.

Degan smirked. "You'd be surprised at how much I know.

Lucas laid the gun and box of bullets under the seat. It was a habit to keep them there. He didn't know why. He threw a glance over his shoulder at the two men in the backseat and said, "Oh really? What do you know?"

Degan leaned forward. "Something is coming to release the world from its sleep."

Lucas scoffed and shifted the Ford into drive. He pulled onto a street possessed by gloom and desperation. The buildings were worn and crumbling. The figures patrolling up and down its sidewalks huddled around small pits of fire for warmth.

"Don't tell me you are one of those religious nuts. Are you going to preach to us about the end of the world? Well, the end has been cancelled and God is not here. Save all your bull for someone who gives a flying damn."

Degan sat back and for a moment he was silent. Oz wondered what it was he thought. He watched him draw a long breath and his chest expand.

"I am not a preacher of anything. I do not nor will I ever consider myself a religious person because religion is a sick trick devised by man to control one another," Degan explained.

Lucas peered at him in the rearview mirror and felt something weigh on his chest. It wasn't as though he never had these discussions before, but something in the way Degan spoke made him shiver. He spoke with such detachment that made his own lack of emotion seem pronounced.

"You really believe that?" Oz asked.

"What do you think? Oh, that's right, you don't think at all. You have other people do your thinking for you. Tell me something, Oz James, how was prison? You sure got your fill of pretty young boys didn't you? You loved how they looked in the shower and how the beads of water rolled down their soft young bodies, didn't you?"

Oz's jaw dropped. Suddenly the cab of the Ford grew hot and uncomfortable as shades of color melted across Degan's changing features. They mingled and settled only to look like a macabre art piece. He wanted to scream, but all he could do was wheeze.

He glanced toward Lucas whose focus returned to the road. When he turned back to Degan his features had resumed a normal fit. The only difference now was Degan no longer sported a bald spot. His hair was thick, still gray, but longer.

"He can't hear us now," Degan assured. He glanced at the back of Lucas' head and continued, "It is just you and I. Even if you call out to him your scream will fall on deaf ears."

"What do you want?" Oz stammered, wedging himself into a corner in an attempt to get away from this thing who sat next to him.

"I want only for you to not get in my way. If you care anything about your friend you will make sure he stays clear of me too."

"What are you?"

Degan laughed. "Forget that for now. In due time, you will learn all you need to know. Just pay attention and watch."

"Watch what?"

"If I tell you, where would be the fun?"

Oz flinched as he touched a cold finger to his sweat covered brow. It almost burnt as ice right out the freezer did if you got it on your skin. He tried to shake it loose with a twist of his head, but even under his touch he lost control of his movements.

"Hey," Lucas shouted over the fan of the heater. It rattled and sounded as though it was about to quit any moment. "We need to make a quick stop."

Degan nodded and gave Oz a glance as he responded, "Sounds great to me."

Lucas snarled. "I wasn't talking to you."

Oz looked toward the rearview mirror. He was unsure of what had just transpired, but sure Lucas would never believe it. Maybe it was just his imagination, he told himself. Yeah, that was it. He hadn't slept yet and he was getting hungry again. He just needed a place to rest his head and fill his belly. The pizza had seemed like ages ago.

He jerked as Degan pressed a slash across his forehead. Fresh blood oozed out and as he wrenched away from his assault he heard him ask, "So how is your sister anyway?"

Oz winced. He couldn't have known about Judan, could he? It was almost as if he could...no that was silly. No one could read thoughts, could they? He sank deeper in the corner and closed his eyes.

They coasted into Murphy's Gas Station. They had been riding on fumes for nearly a mile. The car drifted into the self-serve island slowly. When it came to a rest, Lucas opened the door and got out. He was in no mood for this.

Degan rolled down the passenger side window. In the short way from the alley to here he somehow had gained control. Lucas didn't like it, but could do little to fight the urge to trust him. It wasn't natural.

"I suggest you get back in. I'll drive from here."

"I need to check for gas," he barked.

The thing laughed. As he touched the steering wheel the car roared, its lights blazed brighter than ever. Degan moved behind the wheel and adjusted the seat for his comfort. From the backseat Oz stirred. Sleep had claimed him early, but even in his dreams Degan was there.

Oz shuddered and looked around. "What's happening?" Oz watched Lucas for a few moments, and then shifted his attention to Degan. He wanted to say something, but didn't want to say anything foolish. He kept his mouth shut.

Lucas jumped into the passenger seat. As he straightened himself he barked to Degan, "Get us out of here." Then he froze. Who sat in the driver's seat was not the gray haired old man from before. He was a youth, barely the age of twelve, yet in his eyes burnt the essence of a much older man. Lucas watched as he shifted the vehicle into drive and felt it lurch forward as the kid wedged his foot on the accelerator. Still, he wondered how this could be. It must be a joke.

"Where is Degan?"

"He is Degan," Oz responded.

“That’s…?” Lucas winced as Degan’s features rippled, contorted and rearranged to format feminine delineations.

“I can also become a high school student named Degan Shore,” she cackled.