DRUID DERRICK - incomplete - my current obsession

Sam looked at the boy’s fearless eyes. Though he’d been able to subdue Pat and scare Mariah, he hadn’t made the slightest chip in this boy’s confidence. That, as nothing else, reminded him of the man he’d seen in the mountains, the same man he’d had nightmares about for two years now. He couldn’t fathom the connection; the nightmares had come before the possible sighting and that sighting had been a nightmare in and of itself. This boy looked like that man - a lot - but surely, this boy couldn’t be that man; it just wasn’t possible. “How about we take the fight outside then,” he said his eyes narrowing.

Derrick stood. “Fine.” He snatched up his staff and strode out the front door before Pat could object and the three men followed. Half way across the yard, Derrick turned with his staff at the ready. Sam and his men spread out around him.

“We’re not armed,” said Sam. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to be armed with that big stick. Why don’t you use your new sword?”

“My sword is sharp,” said Derrick. “I might cut you . . . or even kill you with it. Course I might kill you with my staff too; is that acceptable?”

They all laughed - three grown men against one collage kid dressed in cheap armor and he was talking about killing and asking if that was okay - what a crock.

“How about we even the odds a little?” said Sam and they all drew their preferred handgun.

“Three pistols against a wooden staff, a sword and a dagger,” commented Derrick. “I guess I’ll have to be very good at all of them, won’t I?”

“Is death still acceptable to you?” asked Mick.

“To the death then, and no mercy,” replied Derrick as he crouched.

Tom started to back out. “I’m not playing this game.”

Sam, however, wouldn’t hear of it. “You will stand your ground and fight this little twerp or I’ll kill you myself.”

Tom froze and then returned to his place.

“Woohoo,” crowed Mick and he leveled his pistol and started firing.

Derrick wasn’t to be found downrange. Even though they were less than twenty feet apart, Mick found tracking Derrick to be far more difficult than he had anticipated. Then Sam started firing as well. Derrick managed to land one hard blow on Mick with his staff before it was shot out of his hand but before Mick had even hit the ground - dead or not, Derrick didn’t care - he drew his knife and buried it in his heart as he passed over him in a long summersault.

With Sam’s bullets passing over him, Tom dove for the ground. Derrick rolled over him and dealt out a hard backhand to the side of his head, laying him out senseless in passing, then he rose to his feet drawing his sword in one fluid move.

Tom dropped his clip and slapped another one in place just as Derrick reached his feet. He managed to get off three more rounds before his gun hand was severed from his body, and then, before he could even gasp, that blade was screaming through the cold air directly for his neck.