How long had the steel guardians stood watch over the town? Years. Centuries. Aeons. They’d stood proud at the city limits, greeting tourists, challenging them with frozen fire breath. And now they rattled in the back of a flatbed truck, on their way to death in fiery melting pot, or worse, to rust in the backlot between tractor tires and a naked camaro chassis, its flesh stripped clean by the twin piranha of time and entropy.
“Doesn’t anybody want them?” said Johnny.
Johnny’s dad, behind the wheel, thought so long before answering, it seemed as though he hadn’t heard. “I guess not. This old town wants to be a city, I s’pose. And long legged beasties just aren’t a part of that vision.”
“But they’ll melt them down, won’t they?” said Johnny. “Make them into something new?”
Dad grinned, and ruffled Johnny’s hair. “I hope so, kiddo.”