Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) by Bruno Flexer

through his hair slowly. He was barely over thirty, but his hair had turned almost completely white during the last few days.
    Shouting could be heard from the apartment below, accompanied by hammering on the apartment’s front door. The man slowly crossed the room to the window. The static noise from the radio in the apartment next door was clearing.
    “Hey, asshole! Quiet in there. Don’t make me break down your door!” came an angry roar from outside the apartment. The man looked out the window. Above and beyond the roofs of Brooklyn, he could see a black, circular cloud, rising slowly and moving majestically westwards. He looked down, watching the busy street below him. The dark shadow of the writhing cloud was drifting away, letting the sun shed its warmth on the people scurrying on their way. The sun’s morning light slowly flooded the city, filling it with the bright rays of a sparkling, false hope. The human stream flowed on, a veritable river of people moving as fast as they could, as if they knew their time was almost up.
    The man stiffened his back, some of the resolve returning to his eyes. Then he looked at his soft, white hands, tightly gripping the windowsill.
    “Am I strong enough? Will I be able to do what is necessary?” The man’s shoulders slumped.
                                                                            ***
    “Sheriff! Hey, sheriff!” a young, eager voice called out.
    “What?” a gruff, world-weary voice answered.
    “It’s the Mayor.”
    A growl. “Tell him I’m busy.”
    “That’s what I told him the last two times he called!”
    Owego’s Sheriff Hardy watched the young deputy scuttling backwards as fast as he could. The sheriff turned towards the window again. He was standing in Owego’s only police station, looking out on Main Street as evening approached. Owego was a small town nestled between forested hills and the Susquehanna River. Its apartment houses were relatively low, not more than four stories high, even on Main Street. They were colorful houses, jolly and well tended. There were trees everywhere, creating a breathtaking view in autumn when the trees’ orange foliage merged with the town’s red-and-white brick houses.
    Sheriff Hardy was almost sixty years old, yet his back was still straight and his limbs spry. He smoked his pipe and watched the traffic on Main Street through the station’s window, oblivious to the foul smoke his pipe created. The sheriff was never without his pipe, pointedly ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ signs the civic-minded town council posted inside every building, including his station. His wrinkled, weather-beaten features contorted into a scowl.
    “Tom!” The sheriff barked. The young deputy approached again, coughing and holding a hand to his mouth, trying to breathe through the pipe’s foul smoke. It was getting dark outside, even though it was supposed to be a clear, sunny day. Apparently the clouds gathering above the town since noon hadn’t heard the forecast. Soon, the dark clouds had blotted out every last stretch of clear, blue sky. Hardy narrowed his eyes while he scanned the skies. He had never seen such a heavy, black mass of clouds. Far away, he saw some movement as more clouds amassed. A huge storm was gathering strength right above them; the town was being swallowed by a dark shadow.
    “Tom!” Hardy barked again.
    “Yes,” Tom choked, coughing some more. He hated being too close to Hardy. It was fiendishly difficult to get the tobacco stench off his beige police uniform.
    “Did you talk with the meteorological service again?”
    “Yes, sir. They say it’s a heavy supercell. They say it’s not rotating yet, but it’s large enough to cause a level-three or -four tornado,” Tom exclaimed. He looked outside with a wide smile. “How about that, sir? A twister, right here in Owego!” Tom’s eyes were bright and eager.
    “There’s