Jack sidled away from the wall and started sifting through the sand until he located a feces sample. He tucked it inside a Ziploc bag from his pocket and did a brief survey of the changes in the environment since their last visit. Most of the time, the dragons napped underneath the camel skeleton and then woke up to play or bask in the overhead artificial sunlight. Occasionally, one would wander down to the pool for a drink. Their wings were far too small for it now, but eventually they’d start getting stronger bones and learn how to use them. The two scientists had made plans to get a tree installed to allow the dragons to practice launching themselves into the air, since they wouldn’t have an adult to teach them how to fly.
It only took half an hour for the dragons to tear the possum down to its bones. They scattered upon finishing it and disappeared beneath the sand. Notably, Matilda gave Jack one more filthy look before lifting her tail and following the herd back into their den. He grumbled mutinously to himself as he grabbed the leftover remains and headed towards the exit. Kamala opened the door for him and handed him the waste bucket. He dumped the shredded skeleton inside, tied it off, and took it with them down the hall to be disposed of properly.
Their department had collaborated with the campus veterinary hospital for the care of the dragons as a temporary home until they could get an actual wildlife preserve for the dragons up and running. Thanks to generous donations from the public, they’d put a down payment on a location outside of the city and had started working with contractors to turn it into a reservation.
In the meantime, Jack and Kamala changed out of their coveralls and headed to the open fields where the livestock were kept. The biggest fenced-in enclosure was at the center, where the horses were usually kept, but it had been cleared out for something else. A crowd of high school students hung around at the gate with notebooks and their phones raised to capture footage. A faint smile brushed Jack’s lips as they approached.
“Morning, guys,” he said. “You’re early. I think that’s the only time I’ve ever said that to a group of students in my entire life.”
A few laughs went around the group. “Welcome to MIT. I’m Dr. Jackson and this is Dr. Anjali. We’re in charge of the dragon restoration fellowship project here at the institute. We’re going to do a brief overview of our dragon, so please hold your questions until after the lecture. I know you’re going to be tempted to ask, but no, you cannot pet the dragon. I mean, you can if you want to be Captain Hook, but I don’t particularly recommend it. Secondly, we will not be answering questions regarding the Baba Yaga attack from last night. Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to grab Pete’s breakfast. Take it away, Dr. Anjali.”
By now, the lecture about the dragon and the process of feeding her was second nature. Jack hummed to himself as he went into the indoor meat locker and chose the halved pig corpse that the vets had been kind enough to leave him in its own plastic sheet. He heaved it over one shoulder and returned to the enclosure, thanking Kamala as she opened the gate for him.
There was a huge maple tree at the center of the fenced-in area, its leaves already changing orange, yellow, and brown from the fall season, creating a bed from the dragon resting beneath it. No matter how many times Jack walked towards her, something inside him sighed as he looked at what a majestic creature she had become.
From snout to tail, Pete topped eleven feet long. When standing, she towered nearly a foot over Jack’s own height. She had a long, elegant swan-like neck, leaf-green scales except for her pale belly and the yellow membrane of her wings, hooked claws, and a wingspan over twelve feet. She had broad spikes along her spine and tail with a few along her jaw and at the crown of her head. Her golden-yellow eyes had opened when he walked inside and her slitted pupils widened and narrowed as she watched him walk towards her.
If it had been anyone else, the dragon would have risen up from the ground and loosed a terrifying growl. Instead, she sat up and the air around her vibrated with a soothing hum. Jack set the pig down and rubbed her neck, smiling. “Morning, girl. How’d you sleep?”
She sniffed the inside of his arm in confirmation that it was her creator and lifted her head enough to let him scratch under her chin. Jack could hear some of the students laughing as she leaned into it much like an overgrown cat.
“Breakfast time,” Jack said, crouching and uncovering her meal.
The dragon stood, shaking herself a bit, and began taking large bites out of it, swallowing chunks whole one at a time. Jack balled up the plastic and headed back towards the fence to listen to Kamala’s lecture on the dragon’s physiology and social characteristics.
“Any of you who have studied this species of dragon, varanus lacerto, know full well that the typical specimen only grew to about the size of an iguana. Pete’s DNA was spliced with that of her closest living relative, the Komodo dragon, and so our prevailing theory is that it created a defective gene that caused her current size. Her species is still on the list for the restoration project, so when we breed a new batch, they will be their normal size now that we’ve determined the cause of her growth spurt. Phenomena like this are precisely why we started the project to begin with. There is so much unique information to be uncovered studying dragons and their effect on the environment. Our predecessors have documented centuries’ worth of information and yet there is a whole pantheon of things we couldn’t have predicted as we brought Pete to life. If you are interested in becoming a scientist someday, that is the first thing you must accept: that there are things beyond your understanding and it is your job to record them and find a way to turn what you discover into knowledge. I know it seems very exciting now that we have our first dragon since the 15th century, but what you don’t see is the hundreds of hours that brought us to this point. Rome was not built in a day, as the old saying goes. It takes dedication, devotion, and perseverance.”
She gestured to Jack. “Pete is fed every four hours thanks to having such a ravenous metabolism even after we cured her growth acceleration. Most often we provide her with livestock, but she’s also partial to fish and game hens, as they are animals that might have been part of her diet in the wild. The last member of her species died out relatively recently, so there is actually quite a bit of data that helped us determine how to care for her. Aside from her size, the most unique thing about Pete is her behavior. Reptiles tend not to have emotional responses to stimuli, but she most certainly does. She actually imprinted on Dr. Jackson and me at birth, and it took us over a month to get her to the point of not showing aggression to her regular caretakers here at the facility. We were fortunate enough to experiment with her flight capabilities yesterday and they yielded some incredible results that we are eager to explore.”
She paused to let the students write down more notes. “As for the future, we have been working on securing a wildlife preserve so that she won’t stress out the MIT vet staff constantly, and so that we can see how she would interact with other species of dragon. History shows that there was a sort of harmony between the dragons and that when there was a large population, they moved and acted as one for preservation. Those are the basics. Why don’t we take a few questions?”
“How long do you think her lifespan will be?”
“The oldest living varanus lacerto was twenty-four years old when she died, so I would place Pete’s maturation within that time frame.”
“I saw the video when you were riding her yesterday. Did you guys ever figure out how much weight she can carry on her back?”
“That’s a tricky one,” Jack jumped in. “She’s still technically a newborn, and so her bones aren’t completely done growing yet. We’re going to wait a while before we do any examination of endurance, but offhand, she was able to support both mine and Dr. Anjali’s weight, so that’s around three hundred pounds.”
Someone whistled. “Has she ever bitten anyone?”
“No, thank God,” Jack said. “Pete inherited the same venom glands that are in the mouth of a Komodo dragon, so her vic
tims would have to be treated within an hour of being bitten or they’d die. Anytime she has to be handled by anyone other than the two of us, we give her a muzzle. Her bite force is also quite impressive, so safety is always the priority when we handle her. We’re still working on an antidote just in case the worst should happen.”
“Has she ever tried to escape?”
“Not since we first put the tether on her. Once she figured out she can’t get loose, she stayed put and hasn’t made much of a fuss yet. We take good care of her, so for the moment, she has no real reason to try to leave this environment.”
“What about her hunting instincts?”
“She definitely has a thing for birds, but most of them are smart enough not to wander into her territory. She hasn’t set her sights on anything else so far, and we hope it stays that way.”
Jack glanced at his watch. “Alright, we’d better get going towards the classroom.”
The students groaned and he chuckled. “Sorry. I know she’s cool, but there’s a lot of information that you need to know that isn’t out here in the cold. Let’s go.”
An hour and a half later, Jack and Kamala waved the students goodbye as they filed out of the laboratory. Kamala yawned and pulled out her phone to check their schedule. “We should have enough time to get breakfast before our next appointment.”
“Yeah.” He offered her a sympathetic look. “Would it make you feel better if I held off on the coffee out of fairness?”
“That’s sweet, but if you held off on everything I’m not allowed to do in my current state, you’d fully revert into a Neanderthal within a day.”
“Point taken,” he grunted. “Still, though, I’d feel guilty. How about I take you to Life Alive to make up for it?”
Kamala sighed happily, picturing the smorgasbord of fresh fruits, veggies, and smoothies. “Now you’re speaking my language, Captain Caveman.”
They headed to the parking lot. Jack had just opened the passenger’s door to Kamala’s Beetle when a man grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around, and punched him in the face.
Jack collapsed against the car, the side of his head throbbing, blinking blearily up at an Asian man not much older than him in a hoodie and jeans, his face tight with anger. Jack shoved himself upright, clutching his temple. “What the hell, man?”
“You son of a bitch,” the man spat. “This is all your fault!”
He grabbed Jack’s sport coat lapels and slammed him back into the car, cocking his fist again, but Kamala kicked him in the back of his knee and he buckled. Jack slid out of his grip and raised his voice. “Look, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Back off.”
The man stumbled upright and made to come for him again, but Kamala shouted, “Hey!” He turned on instinct and she pointed her Taser dead-center at his chest, her eyes blazing.
“Touch him again,” she snarled. “Go on. I dare you.”
The man fumed, but stayed put and instead glared at Jack. “My sister and her husband were visiting Tokyo. I haven’t heard back from them yet. If that dragon is responsible, I’m coming for you, do you hear me? I will take you apart.”
Jack took a deep breath and tried to think through the adrenaline rush. “If you think this is my fault, then that’s fine. I’m an easy target. But if you think your sister is in danger, then what are you doing wasting time with me? Find her. Then worry about the ones you think are responsible.”
The man went quiet, still, as if absorbing his words. “She’d better be okay. If she isn’t, God help you.”
He brushed past Kamala and stormed off towards his car. She let out a shaky breath and tucked the Taser back into her purse before rushing forward to check on Jack. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, wincing as she brushed her fingertips over the red, swollen bump over his left eyebrow. “Hard-headed, remember?”
“He hasn’t gotten that far. I can get a plate number so we can press charges—”
Jack waved the comment away. “It’s not worth it. Emotions are high. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.”
He offered her a faint, lopsided grin. “Nice work with the Taser, though. That was some Ripley-level badassery there.”
“Don’t joke about this,” she snapped, and his expression sobered. “He could have had a knife. A gun. You could have been hurt worse than this, Jack.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He sighed. “We’d better get out of here just to be safe.”
They both got in, driving in somber silence as they left campus. She stopped at a gas station and got him an ice pack to help reduce the swelling. On the way to Kamala’s apartment, her phone rang and she made a face before ignoring the call.
“Parents?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” she grumbled. “They’ve been at it all morning.”
“How much longer do you think you can avoid them?”
“Hopefully? Indefinitely.”
“That’s definitely mature and not at all unreasonable.”
She shot him a dirty look. “Don’t start.”
“Hey, I’m just playing Devil’s Advocate. It’ll only get worse the more you stall. Might as well get it over with. Rip the Band-Aid off quickly instead of prolonging it.”
“Good advice,” she said. “Especially from you.”
“I know. I put the funk in dysfunction. Besides, if your dad gets too annoying, you can always shut him up by telling him we’re dating. His head will explode.”
Kamala hid a smile. “True.”
She reached out and held his hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers and stared out the window at the towering steel and glass of the city.
“Do you—”
“It’s not your fault, Jack,” she said gently.
“I feel like I know that, but it’s not sticking,” he murmured. “The death toll is at twenty-two as of this morning. There were supposed to be measures in place to prevent this kind of thing from happening.”
“The world is imperfect. We will make it better someday.”
“Yeah,” he said, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Someday.”
Unfortunately, their mood wouldn’t be lifted anytime soon; there was a throng of protesters outside of Kamala’s apartment, and Faye wasn’t home to douse them in freezing cold water. She parked the car and heaved a sigh, glaring defiantly at their signs proclaiming, “No more dragons! No more murder!”
“I’m getting the Taser out.”
Jack barked out a hollow laugh. “I’m not going to stop you.”
He exited the car, still cradling the ice pack against his temple, and waited for her, falling in step behind her to make sure no one dared to try to touch her. Both scientists forced themselves not to say anything as the protesters berated them as they walked up the steps. After she let them in, Jack locked the door and kicked off his shoes while Kamala washed her hands and grabbed a small pen light from her home First-Aid kit. He plopped down on the couch and she curled up next to him as he lowered the ice pack. She shone the light in both of his eyes and examined his brow, which had now begun to darken into a bruise.
“Well, the good news is it’s just an old-fashioned minor contusion,” Kamala said, flicking off the penlight. “The bad news is you’re probably going to get a black eye.”
“Lovely. Symptoms?”
“Headache, swelling, fatigue, and irritability.”
“Aside from the swelling, that’s basically how I operate anyhow. No worries. Thanks, doc.” He kissed her. “What’s your prescription?”
“Advil. Ice pack until the swelling goes down. In the meantime, I want you to lie down for a while to be sure you didn’t suffer anything else that isn’t apparent at first.”
“I get to have a power nap? There’s a silver lining after all. Care to join me?”
“Sadly, no. I’ve got a can of worms to open.” She brandished her phone for emphasis.
“Good luck. Let me make you some breakf
ast first. No one should verbally assault their own father on an empty stomach.”
She shook her head as he rose and shuffled into the kitchen. “If I tell you not to, you’re just going to ignore me, aren’t you?”
“Yup. Best boyfriend ever.”
“Useless pagal.”
To his credit, Kamala came to find that even though Jack was a meat-a-saurus, he was quite good at cooking her vegetarian meals. He made her a heap of fried plantains, wheat toast with apple butter, and a strawberry smoothie. It almost made up for her inability to consume coffee. Almost.
After he was tucked into her bed for a recovery nap, she shut the door and started pacing the den, trying to predict the inevitable argument about to occur. Once she had a big enough array of counterarguments, she dialed her father’s number and reminded herself that she was in fact an adult and not a sulking fifteen-year-old.
It only rang twice, and then a deep voice with a Pakistani accent answered dryly in Urdu, “I see you’ve finally found time for a call.”
Kamala rolled her eyes, and regretted that he wasn’t present to see it. “Good morning, father. How are you?”
“It’s of no consequence,” Dr. Daeshim Anjali replied. “Do you have any idea how worried your mother and I have been?”
“I’m vaguely aware, yes. I’ve been working non-stop since last night. This is the first downtime I’ve had since the Baba Yaga attack. I’m fine.”
“Fine,” he scoffed. “You’re fine? That is your assessment of your current situation?”
“There are worse things that could happen to me.”
“You’re not safe, Kamala. You know how easily the public can be manipulated by the mainstream media. They will turn on you.”
“Let them. I’m no one’s savior.”
He exhaled harshly. “Can you stop being defiant for two seconds and listen to me? Your life will be in danger at the rate you’re going. That press conference has been playing on the news all day and those right-wing fascists are calling you a traitor. For your own safety, you need to abandon this project.”
“What?”
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