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

to disintegrate instantly. There was a rushing sound, making as much noise as seven freight trains, shaking the police station.
    The tornado moved westwards towards Academy Street and Hardy cautiously approached the window once again. He counted five powerful black funnels moving over his town. Finally, they rose up, a giant five-fingered hand drawing away. A moment later, the roaring sound subsided and stopped, leaving ripped street signs, torn tree branches and the debris of everything that had not been bolted down scattered all over the street. The ravaged town looked as if it had gone through a war.
    Tom looked at the house the tornado touched on Main Street. He cleared his throat twice before he could speak.
    “We’ve - there’s - we’ve got to help them! We’ve got to help them!” Tom moved away towards the door, but a gnarled hand grabbed his arm. Tom looked back with tear-filled eyes.
    “But, but. What should we -”
    “No.”
    Tom opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, the Sheriff, taking cover, pulled him down. The lights in the station dimmed and then a brilliant flash from outside flooded the station with light. Hardy, his hand shading his eyes, watched a lightning bolt streak down into town. He couldn’t see where it hit, though he guessed somewhere near the train station.
    Another bolt followed, and then another, the flashes of blue-white light filling the town with an unearthly brilliance. A streetlamp was struck and exploded, leaving a melted stump of iron in its place. Several bolts hit the lightning rods on Courtbridge, filling the large metal-and-wood bridge with brilliant sparks. A fire had started at the Apalachin School.
    A few moments later, the vengeful bolts stopped stabbing the town. Hardy saw occasional flashes of white and blue light inside the clouds above, but they gradually died down as well. Plumes of smoke curled up from the places where the lightning had caused fires. The smoke of the fires merged with the black cloud dome in the sky.
    Hardy stood up, still holding his forgotten pipe in his hand. Tom stood beside him, both of them looking out in silence.
    “- station - we - have you seen - to do -” Tom jumped at the voice coming from the station’s radio and ran over to it.
    “Car 3? Chris? Can you hear me? Chris?” Tom shouted into the mike. The static noise receded. Hardy watched as a single drop of water fell on the window. His eyes followed it as it slid down. A moment later a torrential downpour washed over the debris in the street.
    “Tom!”
    “Sir?”
    “Call the Tioga County Fire Department. Call State Police. Call Emergency Services in Newark Valley and Endicott. Get everyone down here,” Hardy barked.
    Hardy looked down in mild surprise at the pipe still clutched in his hand. He lifted it up and frowned. It had gone out. He let his hand drop and looked outside again.
    “Tom, get me the Mayor.”
***
    Hardy stood outside the police station. He saw a few people walking around aimlessly, gaping openmouthed at the devastation the storm had caused. One woman was crying, looking at the remains of her grocery shop. A man stood near his car, trying to understand how it could have ended up upside down on the sidewalk. An elderly man walked across the street, holding his crumpled hat in both hands and staring around him with unbelieving eyes. Some of the town’s inhabitants opened their window shutters a tiny crack and peeked outside, their faces ghostly white.
    A fallen streetlight hissed and spat sparks. The rain had stopped not long after it had begun, but rivulets of water still ran everywhere. Hardy looked up at the heavy, black cloud cover that still blanketed the town. It seemed the storm it had launched hadn’t even begun to drain its strength. Their troubles seemed far from over.
    The tough sheriff had never experienced anything like this. The town had been ravaged in less than five minutes, and now everything was still and quiet, the town filled