Chapter One of DRAGON SIGIL

Cathy Harper exploded out of the nightmare, her panicked shrieks echoing up and
down the exposed brick walls of her loft and bouncing off the pressed metal ceiling
before they faded away into the night. She lay enshrouded in sweat-dampened sheets,
her body rigid with terror from head to toe and her breath coming in labored pants.
For what seemed to be an endless space in time, her eyes were the only part of her
that she could move. They darted frantically around the night-darkened bedroom as
she stared hard at the walls and ceiling, searching. She sought out the shadowed
corners and the doorway, struggling to see what might be hidden there, what might be
lurking in those dark, suddenly unfamiliar places. When she found nothing she
gradually began to relax, the feeling slowly returned to her arms and legs, and her
sense of terror evaporated into the quiet dark of the night.
As she began to extricate herself from the clutches of the recurring nightmare,
she slowly became aware of the faint chirping of crickets outside her window,
punctuated here and there by the solemn croaking of the frogs down by the
Mississippi’s edge. Earlier on she had opened the window just a sliver, enough to hear
the night sounds from outside. No one was pounding frantically at her door or
shouting her name, and she was grateful for the solid old apartment building she
called home, instead of living in an apartment in one of the more modern condos
newly built downriver. The walls of her apartment were thick enough to drown out
pretty much anything. I could have been raped and murdered and no one would have
heard anything, she thought, and then shivered with unease at the dark thought that
had sprung from nowhere.
Thank God her shrieks had not roused anyone, though, especially the building
super, Ned Grabowski, lurking all the way down in his basement apartment. She gave
another shudder, this time one of disgust, as she thought about how he constantly
seemed to be watching her, to the point where she suspected he had to be lying in wait
for her. The man had the uncanny knack of always appearing in the lobby of the
building shortly after she entered, no matter the time of day or night. She would no
sooner be at the mailboxes than Ned would appear behind her, startling her with his
almost otherworldly approach. The way he seemed to be fixated on her could be
almost frightening at times.
 Ned would try to engage her in conversation as Cathy edged away from him,
trying to stay out of range of the unwashed odor of his body that preceded him and
assaulted her senses, trying hard not to gag. The fetid stench that issued from his
grinning mouth with its rotting teeth was even worse. He would fix his close-set, faded
baby blues on her and walk behind her as she headed for the stairs.
Cathy always took the stairs whenever she could. She had a deep-rooted fear of
elevators, having had nightmares of being trapped in an elevator that was plummeting
to the basement ever since she was a child. Along with these nightmares was another
where she was in an elevator with a pile of trash bags forgotten by the night cleaning
crew. The bags would make sinister rustling noises as they began to stir, until
something monstrous suddenly exploded out of them, heading straight for her, mouth
agape to show rows of shining teeth. Cathy would punch every button on the control
panel but the doors would never open, and she would find herself trapped in the
elevator with a ravening monster.
As her rapid breathing began to slow to a more normal rhythm and she felt the
sheets begin to cool against her flushed skin, her thoughts returned unbidden to the
creepy Ned Grabowski.
Ned always followed her right to the foot of the stairs and watched as she began
to climb. Often, he would make suggestive remarks like, “Climbing stairs is so good
for the hips, isn’t it?” She was also pretty sure that he craned his head to try to look
up her skirt, just like an overgrown teenager might. If Cathy chanced to look back she
would find him posturing, hitching his dirty jeans up over a sizeable beer belly
encased in an equally filthy t-shirt that almost always bore some kind of macho
slogan. He would stand there and leer at Cathy, his thumbs tucked into the
waistband of his jeans, fingers pointing towards his crotch as if to put his manhood on
display for her. Seeing him always made her feel dirty, so much so that she always
wanted to take a shower as soon as she got into her apartment. Ned never took the
stairs if he could help it, loudly proclaiming, “If God had intended for men to climb
stairs He never would have invented elevators,” or some such crap. She would have
screamed if he had tried to accompany her upstairs. At least he didn’t try to get into
her apartment on some pretext of checking her pipes, or something equally crass and
revolting.
 Cathy sighed restlessly. She would move out of the old building in a heartbeat
if it weren’t for the fact that it was rent-controlled and she had such a sweet deal. Not
to mention the fabulous view of the Mississippi River from her surprisingly spacious
balcony. Summer evenings she would sit out there dressed in shorts and a t-shirt,
sipping a beer or a glass of wine or a Mojito and watch the barges ply their trade up
and down the river, the lights from downtown sparkling against the dark water. There
were also the dinner cruises on the riverboats, and she would find herself experiencing
a small pang of envy as she watched the gaily dressed passengers thronging the decks
while the sky turned to salmon and mauve and the stars rose as night fell. There was
currently no one special in Cathy’s life. It was not that she was unattractive, quite the
opposite with her tall, slender but shapely body, large grey eyes and light brown hair,
but as her friend Liz wryly put it once, “You’re beautiful, Cathy, but you have this –
this fey aura about you that I think scares men away.” Cathy sighed again.
Whatever. Perhaps I’m one of those women destined to become an aging spinster with
a house full of cats. She found herself smiling at the thought. If only building
management would replace Ned Grabowski with someone else, she would be in
seventh heaven.
As she relaxed, her mind returned again to the recurring nightmare she’d been
having for several months now. Somehow, though, this time was different. Unlike the
previous nights, the nightmare had not faded away into the deepest recesses of her
memory as soon as she awoke. This time, she remembered with terrifying clarity
everything that had seemed so real to her whilst she had slept; the dark, formless,
fathomless shapes moving over the walls and ceiling, sliding over each other, somehow
threatening. This time, too, she had seen faces within the shadows – leering gargoyle
faces, demonic. The faces had pressed forward against the shadows, and then
dissolved, only to reform elsewhere. The scenes played over and over in her mind,
causing her to tremble again with rapidly approaching panic, and Cathy knew that for
her the night’s sleep was long gone. She reached over and switched on her bedside
lamp, its warm buttery light creating a welcome glow in her bedroom, chasing away
the shadows that lurked in the corners, although they remained firmly etched on her
memory.
Pushing back the twisted rose-patterned sheets, Cathy climbed out of bed and
walked softly across the polished wooden floorboards into the adjoining bathroom to
splash cold water onto her face. As she stood in her bare feet on the cool tiled floor
before the mirror over the vanity in the unforgiving bright light, she was horrified to
see huge, dark circles staining the delicate skin beneath her grey eyes. The flesh there
looked bruised, making her look even paler than she normally did. Her lips looked
particularly bloodless and she rubbed them with her finger to bring back their natural
rosy color, but there was nothing she could do about her eyes. You’re definitely not in
the best shape, girl, she mouthed silently, and thought with distaste of the comments
that were sure to come at the office when her coworkers got a good look at her. She
could imagine the snide remarks and sidelong sly glances that were so much a part of
her working environment, and she sighed with weary resignation, mentally preparing
herself for the not-so-subtle onslaught from people with too much time on their hands,
and minds like sewers.
She felt completely drained. Oh well, at least it’s Friday, she thought. She still
had to face the prospect of work that day and hoped the time would pass by swiftly.
She was also seriously considering the frightening prospect that she might well have
something physically wrong with her that was causing the nightmares. The word
“tumor” had sprung to her mind more than once over the past couple of weeks – a
terrible thought that she kept pushing to the back of her mind. She looked at her face
in the mirror again, wondering, hoping she was okay, dreading the day ahead. Then
out of nowhere, the thought came to her, why go into work at all today? I could take a
personal day. I’ve not taken a day off work in months… Cathy made the decision to
call into the office and tell them she was taking the day off – she needed to try to get
some rest, which might be easier during the daylight hours when there were no
unnatural shadows staining the walls and ceiling of her bedroom. She shivered again
as she remembered the strange, half-formed shapes from her dreams crawling across
the walls and ceiling, and wrapped her arms around her upper body. She felt almost
ashamed at the depths of her terror, a terror she could not understand when she was
awake, but that haunted her every night. She was no longer a kid, for crying out loud!
She ought to be able to handle a couple of bad dreams.
She turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom, walking down the
hallway to the kitchen, switching on all the lights as she went, and made herself a nice
soothing cup of tea before returning to bed with a safe, boring book instead of one of
the thrillers or horror novels she enjoyed so much. Later, long after the birds were up
and singing, she phoned her office and told Tim, the manager, that she wouldn’t be in
that day. Tim expressed immediate concern for her health. Bless Tim; he was the
only person she worked with who she felt was a genuine ‘nice guy’. He told her to take
as much time as she needed, that her projects would be covered for the day. She
thanked Tim and hung up feeling guilty for taking time off work, but she needed this
day, damn it! She had to stop beating herself up about it.
Feeling suddenly sleepy, she crawled back into bed, pulled the sheet up around
her shoulders, and fell quickly into a deep and dreamless slumber.
It seemed like only a few seconds before she awoke once more. Stretching her
body right down to her toes and yawning hugely, she looked over at the clock on the
nightstand beside her bed and was shocked to see that it was almost noon. She had
slept the entire morning away! Small wonder she felt more relaxed and refreshed. For
about a second she considered going in to work after all, but only for one second.
Shaking her head at what she always called her dogged conscientiousness, she
stumbled into the bathroom to take a wake-up shower, and was pleased to see that
the dark bruises beneath her eyes had faded a little. The rest she could hide with a
skilful application of make-up, she decided as she climbed under the soothing water.
Standing under the shower with her head thrown back and a stream of warm water
running down over her face and her body she could almost forget the nightmares, and
wondered what she should do to fill the afternoon hours. She so seldom had time on
her hands these days, she reflected ruefully – time in which to relax and just let the
world just slide around her for a change instead of being so caught up in it all.
Then she remembered. The Minnesota State Fair had just opened at the State
Fairgrounds, and it might be fun to go. She hadn’t been to the Fair in several years.
Wandering around aimlessly looking at exhibits and stuffing her face with pork chop
on-a-stick and cotton candy suddenly seemed a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.
Her mind flashed back a few years ago to her last visit. She had met a really nice guy
there by the name of Jon, who was working at the fairgrounds at the time. They had
spent the afternoon together and Cathy had really enjoyed his company, but he
admitted he was somewhat of a drifter, and so they had parted quite amicably later
that evening after enjoying a laser light show set to the music of Pink Floyd. She had
not seen him again. She found herself wondering if maybe, just maybe, he might have
drifted back into the Twin Cities this year…
 Skipping lunch - she could eat her fill at the Fair - she dressed in low-slung,
comfortable jeans and sneakers, put a soft white oversized shirt on over a pale blue
tee-shirt, grabbed a bottle of water and slung her knapsack over her shoulder, and
was out of the door before she could change her mind.

Cathy arrived at the fair in the August heat, amid a noisy jumble of children with not-
so-excited parents tagging along, and jostled for a parking space in a lot between two
large family sedans. For a brief moment, taking in the sea of noise and the throngs of
people, she almost changed her mind, but then she shrugged in resignation. She was
already there, and might as well make the most of it. She walked up the street and
over to one of the ticket offices beneath the huge, multi-gated entrance, paid the
entrance fee after waiting in line for several minutes, and walked out onto the
concourse. She felt a strange fluttering in her stomach that she could not fathom the
reason for; perhaps something momentous was going to happen this day to take her
out of the dull humdrum that had become her existence of late…or perhaps she was
just having hunger pangs. She would see what the day would bring…