The Rain Dragon Rescue

by Suzanne Selfors

  “Okay.” She shielded her eyes with her hands and looked into the sky.

  Things weren’t so bad. At least the droppings weren’t gooey, and they didn’t smell half as disgusting as the sasquatch. Ben found two more, each full of feathers and bones. If the dragon had been eating people, Ben expected there’d be zippers, shoelaces, and jewelry in the poop. Fortunately, there were no signs of such items. Moving quickly, he made his way around the chimneys. Soon, the bucket was full. “Mr. Tabby said something about proper disposal. What do you think we’re supposed to do?”

  “We can’t carry that stuff downstairs,” Pearl said. “How gross.” She grabbed the bucket. Before Ben could stop her, she dumped the contents over the eastern wall. The grass below had grown into a weed-infested field. The droppings disappeared among the tall blades.

  “Why’d you do that?” Ben asked.

  “Now it’s fertilizer,” Pearl said with a smile. “That seems like proper disposal to me.”

  Ben shrugged. It was a clever idea, but he had a nagging suspicion Mr. Tabby would have a different opinion.

  There was one last part of the roof to clean. Hoping with all his heart to finish before the dragon returned, Ben hurried around the largest chimney. Then he skidded to a stop. “Pearl…?”

  She was at his side in a heartbeat. “Whoa! What’s that?”

  They both stared, slack-jawed, at the mess sitting before them.

  It was a giant pile of stuff. And all the stuff was made from metal. Ben had to squint because the objects shone in the sunlight. “I see a hubcap, a mailbox, and a spatula,” he said as they walked around the pile. “There’s a bunch of forks, a doorknob, and—hey, there’s my grandfather’s toaster.”

  “Look, there’s the clock hand from Town Hall.”

  Just as Ben was about to grab the toaster, a shadow swept across the pile. “Uh-oh,” he said. A very large shape flew right at them. “Run!”

  Pearl, who’d been brave up until that moment, dropped the bucket and bolted across the roof. Ben, who didn’t care about being brave but who cared a great deal about not getting eaten, dropped the shovel and ran as fast as he could. A thunderous sound followed as the dragon’s wings beat the air above their heads. Go, go, GO! Ben’s brain hollered. Two more chimneys and then the door. Run, run, RUN!

  Swoosh. A gust of air blew past Ben. A loud thump was followed by the clattering of chimney tiles. The dragon had landed.

  And he stood right above the exit.

  9

  Ben had never felt more terrified in his life. Nothing could compare to this—not the vampire film festival his dad had taken him to, not the torture chamber at the wax museum, not even the night at math camp when the counselor had told the zombie brain-sucker story.

  The dragon’s dramatic size took Ben’s breath away. His black chest was as broad as Grandpa Abe’s Cadillac. His red eyes glowed like they were on fire. He stood on four paws, towering over the kids, his claws digging into the roof like grappling hooks.

  Pearl pressed against Ben, her whole body shaking as if she’d gotten very cold all of a sudden. “Ben,” she whispered. “What should we do?” She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

  “I don’t know.”

  It was odd to see Pearl so scared. On Monday she’d faced the lake monster with confidence. But comparing that gentle, long-necked creature to this seething fire-breather was like comparing a garter snake to a wolverine. Those claws alone could rip a car into pieces!

  With a graceful leap, the dragon landed directly in front of Ben and Pearl. He opened his mouth, and a piece of metal fell out—the other clock hand from Town Hall. His upper lip curled, exposing a row of teeth that looked exactly like steak knives. Not only was each tooth serrated, but it was also crooked. Dr. Ruben, Ben’s dentist, would have loved to get his hands on such a mouth. This dragon could be the poster child for orthodontists everywhere.

  He growled.

  Ben clenched his jaw, holding back a sound that might have been a squeal but might also have been a shriek—he couldn’t be sure. His parents would be heartbroken if he got eaten. He could hear his grandfather’s voice at the funeral, “Oy gevalt! Who would have thought such a thing could happen to such a nice boy?”

  Ben and Pearl both took a step back, then another.

  The dragon took a step forward, then another. Steam hissed from his nostrils.

  Something had to be done. Immediately!

  “H-h-hello.” Ben’s voice sounded very far away, as if it had gotten trapped in his throat. “We’re sorry if we disturbed you. We were just leaving.”

  The dragon snorted. A flame shot out.

  “Whoa!” Ben cried as he pulled Pearl sideways. Fortunately, the flame shot way over their heads and did nothing more than heat up the air.

  Pearl clutched Ben’s hand extra hard. “Please don’t be mad. Mr. Tabby told us to come up here and clean up your…” She chewed on her lower lip. “Clean up your…”

  “Don’t say poop,” Ben whispered from the corner of his mouth. “We don’t want to insult him.”

  Suddenly, one of the dragon’s front paws reached up, grabbed a pigeon right out of the air, and shoved it into his mouth. A couple of pigeon feathers floated to the ground.

  “Gross,” Ben said with a grimace.

  “Totally gross,” Pearl said.

  The dragon chomped, then swallowed. Ben didn’t want to think about the bird’s fate. A dragon’s stomach had to be a terrible place. “We work for Dr. Woo,” he said, pointing to his lab coat. “We’re the new apprentices.”

  The dragon brushed a feather from his snout and continued staring at the kids.

  “I think you’re right,” Pearl whispered from the corner of her mouth. “Dragons don’t speak people language. They’re reptiles, and reptiles aren’t very smart.”

  The dragon’s upper lip curled. Then he sat on his haunches, pressed his front claws together, and did something amazing. “I wonder,” he said in a voice so deep it rumbled like thunder. “Does an apprentice taste as good as a pigeon? Do you?”

  He stared directly at Ben.

  10

  Did he taste as good as a pigeon?

  Ben pondered this question. Firstly, he didn’t know what pigeon tasted like. Maybe like chicken or Cornish game hen. Both were very delicious. Secondly, he was not about to compare himself to something delicious.

  So he did what he did best. He made up a story.

  “I taste terrible,” Ben said. His hand slipped out of Pearl’s grip. “As a matter of fact, I’m poisonous because I take all sorts of allergy medications. When I was a baby, I ate paint chips, so I have toxic levels of lead in my bloodstream. And I love junk food, so I’m full of chemicals and preservatives.”

  The dragon smacked his lips. He did not appear convinced.

  “Plus, I live right next door to a nuclear power plant, so I’m radioactive. If you eat me, you’ll get sick and die.”

  “Mmmmm,” the dragon hummed, paying no attention to Ben’s story. “To eat this apprentice or not to eat this apprentice? That is the question.”

  A long pause followed, during which Ben’s life flashed before his eyes—but not the life he’d already lived. He saw images of things he’d been looking forward to. He saw himself lighting the menorah for the next Hanukkah and unwrapping eight days of presents. He saw his bar mitzvah party, where his friends would raise him up in the air during the horah dance. And he saw himself holding his brand-new driver’s license. None of that would happen if he became dragon chow.

  “Ben!” Pearl yelled from across the roof. With the dragon distracted, she’d made it to the exit and was holding the door open, motioning for Ben to run. It wasn’t as bad as the obstacle course in gym class, except for the fire-breathing dragon and the razor-sharp teeth. He’d simply have to duck beneath the dragon’s elbow, dart around his right haunch, leap over his tail, then race straight for the exit. Pearl’s ponytail bobbed as she waved frantically.

  Ben sent all hi
s energy to his feet, preparing to bolt, but the dragon burst into a smile. “Ha-ha. Just kidding.”

  Ben froze. “Huh?”

  “I’m not going to eat you.” The dragon was chuckling, and his voice had changed. It no longer sounded terrifying—it sounded like a little kid’s voice. “But I scared you good, didn’t I? Didn’t I scare you good?” He thumped his tail. “That was my big mean voice.”

  Ben wasn’t sure what was going on. Was this a joke? Was the dragon teasing his food before eating? “Don’t play with your food,” Ben’s mother always said.

  The dragon smirked. “You should have seen the look on your face. Ha-ha.”

  Wait a minute. Ben narrowed his eyes. Mr. Tabby had said the dragon was young. The dragon was acting like a… kid.

  “That wasn’t funny,” Ben murmured, hoping his heart would settle back to normal and Pearl wouldn’t see the sweat that had broken out on his forehead. He’d been so scared he’d almost peed his pants!

  Pearl sprinted around the dragon, then gazed up at him. She was smiling so wide you could see the gap in her teeth. “I can’t believe you can talk.”

  His tail stopped thumping. “Of course I can talk. Dragons invented language.”

  Ben made a phff sound. “Invented language?” That sounded like a story, for sure.

  “Yep. Way back in the Foggy Time. That’s when the Imaginary World began. At least that’s what my dragon book says.” He reached between two scales and pulled out a book.

  Then he opened the book to a page that was dog-eared. “This is me.” He turned the book so Ben and Pearl could see. They stepped closer. The page had a drawing of a dragon with the words Black Western Dragon, Vicious and Deadly. “It says I’m not very nice.” The dragon frowned. “Says I eat peasants, burn villages to the ground, and steal treasure. But I’ve never done any of those things.” He tucked the book back under his scale. “Hey, wanna play fetch?” He pulled a tennis ball from between two more scales and dropped it at Ben’s feet. His tail thumped.

  Ben picked up the yellow ball. Was this actually happening? The dragon wanted to play? “He wants you to throw it,” Pearl said with a nudge.

  “Okay.” So Ben threw the ball across the roof. The dragon grabbed it right out of the air.

  “Aw, that was too easy,” he complained. “Throw it as far as you can.” His tongue hung out of his mouth. “Go on, go on.”

  Using every muscle in his arm, Ben hurled that tennis ball toward outer space. It soared over the north wall, arched over Button Lake, then began its descent. The dragon whizzed into the air. Pearl and Ben peered over the ledge. The dragon’s belly skimmed the water as he grabbed the ball. When he landed back on the roof, he dropped the ball at Pearl’s feet. “Go on, go on,” he said, bouncing on his hind paws. Then he stopped bouncing and scratched his head. “Hey, I forgot to ask your names.”

  “My name is Pearl and this is Ben. We’re Dr. Woo’s new apprentices. What’s your name?”

  Using one of his claws, the dragon picked a fork from his teeth. “My name’s Metalmouth.”

  Ben approved of that name. And he didn’t feel scared anymore. This dragon was like an overgrown black Labrador retriever. “So, is this where you live?” he asked.

  “Yep. Until Dr. Woo moves again. She’s moved four times since I was hatched.”

  “Four times?” Pearl frowned. “I’ve never moved. I’ve always lived above the Dollar Store. Say, how old are you?”

  “Dr. Woo says that in human years I’m…” He counted on his claws. “I’m ten.”

  “Just like us,” Pearl said.

  Metalmouth tossed the fork and the clock hand onto the pile of metal objects. Ben and Pearl looked at each other. “One of us has to tell him to stop stealing,” Pearl whispered. “I vote you do it.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Ben stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “Uh, Metalmouth? Some of the people in town are kinda mad that… well… how come you’re taking all that stuff?”

  “I’ll show you.” Swoosh. His wings unfurled. “Get behind me so you don’t get burned.”

  Burned? The dragon opened his mouth. Ben and Pearl darted behind the left wing. While the rest of Metalmouth’s body was covered in sharp scales, the wing’s skin was smooth and stretched between bones like silk over a kite’s frame. As they peeked around the edge, the dragon’s chest expanded with a deep breath. Then a flame shot out of his mouth. Metalmouth worked the flame like a painter, brushing every inch of the pile until each object had melted. Then the flame subsided and he tucked his wings. “Ta-da.”

  “Wow,” Ben said.

  The pile was transformed. What had been a hodgepodge of items was now a perfectly smooth silver nest, gleaming in the morning sun.

  “How come you used metal?” Pearl asked. “I have a nest collection at home, and those nests are all made of twigs and sticks.”

  “Do I look like a bird?” Metalmouth asked. “Birds make stupid nests. Birds collect, but dragons steal. Birds weave, but dragons solder. Seriously. A dragon’s nest is a work of art.” Then he yawned. To Ben, the dragon’s breath felt like the air inside the country club’s sauna. “I’m gonna sleep now.”

  Metalmouth stepped into the nest. He turned around three times like a dog. Then he curled up and wrapped his wings around himself like a blanket. After closing his eyes, puffs of steam began to waft from his nostrils.

  “Oh, isn’t that cute?” Pearl whispered. “He’s snoring.”

  Ben didn’t think cute was the right word, but it was kind of cool to have watched a dragon make his nest. He looked around. “I guess we’re done up here.” While he collected the shovel, Pearl grabbed the bucket, and together they tiptoed back to the exit. “That was amazing,” he said after they’d entered the stairwell. “We talked to a dragon.”

  “Totally amazing.” She closed the roof door. “Do you think he’ll stop stealing now that he’s built his nest?”

  Ben was about to say he didn’t know, but the wall speaker buzzed. “Mr. Tabby to floor ten. Emergency code red,” the nasal voice said.

  “Floor ten?” Pearl’s eyes widened. “I wonder what’s happening.”

  “Mr. Tabby to floor ten immediately. Mister—”

  The computerized voice was interrupted by a new voice. “Mr. Taaaaabby! Mr. Taaaaabby! Where are you?” the voice pleaded.

  “Who’s that?” Ben asked.

  “I don’t know, but it sounds like she needs help,” Pearl said.

  Ben gulped. Something bad was happening. “But Mr. Tabby is the one to help her. We’re not supposed to—”

  There was nothing to be done. Ben knew they weren’t supposed to go to the tenth floor. The sign warned them not to go to the tenth floor. But the order came in, as clear as a bell. “Apprentices to Floor Teeeen!” the voice shrieked. “Now!”

  11

  The door on the tenth-floor landing opened into a vast room that stretched from one end of the building to the other. There was a floor, a ceiling, and some windows, but not much else. Except over in the far corner, where a woman sat on a stool, facing what looked to be an old-fashioned telephone switchboard.

  Ben had seen photos of switchboards. In the olden days, people used telephones that were wired into the wall. This was before computers, so telephone operators physically connected the phone calls. They wore headsets and microphones and they’d say, “This is the operator. How may I place your call?” Then you’d tell them whom you were telephoning and they’d plug you into the right socket.

  “Hello?” Pearl said. “We’re the apprentices.”

  Without turning around, the woman motioned frantically. “Hurry up, y’all!”

  Pearl and Ben started across the floor, Pearl in the lead as usual. Their steps disturbed a light dusting of yellow glitter. It appeared to be the same kind of glitter that always clung to Dr. Woo’s clothing.

  The woman was a bit too wide for the stool. Her blond hair wa
s swirled like a soft-serve ice-cream cone on her head. The big red flowers on her dress matched her red high heels. She yanked off her headphones and spun around.

  Pearl gasped. Ben gawked. The woman’s face was strange indeed. Her nose started at the very top of her head. Her eyes were smallish and set far apart. She looked a bit like a goat, except she wore lipstick. Don’t stare, Ben told himself, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her little goat beard. Then he noticed the goat ears sticking out of her hair.

  “What took y’all so looooong?” she asked. She even sounded like a goat!

  “We were on the roof,” Pearl explained. “We got here as soon as we could.”

  “We’re not supposed to be on floor ten,” Ben said, nervously looking around. Was this a test of some sort? Would Mr. Tabby or Dr. Woo step out of the shadows and say, “Aha, you failed! You broke another rule”?

  The lady reached into a burlap sack labeled IVY. She pulled out a long green vine and chewed. “My name’s Violet,” she said with her mouth full.

  Ben glanced down. Violet’s shoes were actually hooves, painted red, and her legs were covered in short fur. Was she half human and half goat? He’d seen creatures like that in a storybook but couldn’t remember what they were called. She’d clearly come from the Imaginary World.

  “We got ourselves an emergency caaaaall,” she explained as she reached into a bag labeled OATS.

  “A call?” Ben stared at the switchboard, where an emergency light blinked. “Wait a minute. Are you saying you get telephone calls from the Imaginary World?”

  “Well, of course.” She stuffed a handful of oats into her mouth. “How else are we supposed to communicaaaaate?”

  No good answer came to Ben’s mind, because he didn’t know where the Imaginary World was, exactly. Did it exist on Earth? On another planet? In another dimension?