by Kavich, AC
The pain began, and it was excruciating. Hiroki cried out as his bones grew thick and heavy and pushed against the muscles surrounding them. He collapsed in the mud as his spine pressed against his skin and curved unnaturally. His clothes finally tore away, revealing the webbing beneath his arms that grew to form the expanse of his budding wings.
“Hang on, Hiro! I know it hurts but you’re doing great!” Billy looked to the west where the sun was slipping lower. He pulled off his wet shirt and tossed it inside the Buick then stooped to untie his shoes. “I’m right here, Hiro. I’m right beside you.”
The vertebrae of Hiroki’s neck popped as they separated to give his neck new length. His skull throbbed as his eye sockets grew. His jaw jutted outward and grew heavy. He felt like he was choking as his tongue swelled behind his teeth.
“You’re green, Hiro! You’re green!” Billy yelped excitedly
Sure enough, the leathery skin covering his body had taken on a dark green hue. The color was a near-perfect match for the heavy foliage of the trees that lined the dirt road. His pupils spread wide to absorb his irises and corneas until there was nothing left beneath his heavy lids but a shining black void.
Hiroki thrashed on the road, still in agony. One expanding wing slapped against the side of the Buick so forcefully that it lifted the car out of the mud and rolled it onto its side. His tail was long and thin – much thinner than Billy’s – and was whipping involuntarily as it grew longer.
Wearing nothing but his underwear, Billy stumbled backward to avoid having his head sliced off at the shoulders. He crawled through the mud until he reached a safe distance. And then… the sun touched the horizon.
And now it was Billy’s turn.
Two dragons – one blue and one green – blocked the dirt road entirely. Billy was larger than Hiroki, thicker through his torso and heavier in his limbs. Hiroki was thin and long, more serpentine than his blue counterpart. Unlike Billy’s unadorned skull, a thick crest divided the left side of his head from the right. His wings were wider than Billy’s and fringed with loose skin that fluttered in the rising wind.
Heavy rain ran over their scaly skin as Billy stomped his feet and watched Hiroki discover how to control his new body. He was as awkward in his movements as Billy had been, but Hiroki was a faster learner. In a matter of minutes he climbed to his feet, talons digging in the mud, and began testing the mechanics of his wings.
Can you hear me, Hiro?
The words entered Hiroki’s mind like the sound of distant thunder entered his ears. It was Billy’s voice. He looked at the blue dragon down the road and found Billy’s black eyes. He nodded. Yes, he could hear Billy.
Eva says it’s telepathy. Figured out I could do it last night. See if you can say something back. With your mind.
Hiroki ignored the pain that still lingered in his new body and concentrated. He could feel an electrical charge swim through his brain as if jumping from synapse to synapse. An otherworldly warmth flooded his skull. The sensation was uncomfortable at first, but he quickly adjusted.
Can you hear me, Billy? I’m trying—
There was no recognition on Billy’s dragon face. Hiroki’s thoughts had not penetrated Billy’s mind. It would take practice. That much was clear. He set aside that challenge and returned his focus to his wings. The way they connected to the muscles of his chest, the way the bones in his human arms had extended from his shoulders to the very tip of each wing… it all made sense to Hiroki.
Billy entered his mind again. Whenever you’re ready, Hiro… let’s fly.
Hiroki lifted his heavy dragon skull and nodded.
He was ready.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Eva sat on her bed, staring out the window.
She was waiting for the sun to set, but the storm made it difficult to judge. There was so much cloud cover that the trees in her yard gave off no shadows at all. But their branches were swaying violently in the wind that raced ashore from the Pacific, tearing off leaves and whipping them every direction at once.
This isn’t just rain. This is a real storm.
She expected to hear her mother knock on her door any minute and invite her downstairs. The family usually gathered to ride out storms in style. It was a tradition begun when the twins were three or four and every thunderclap sent them into a complete meltdown. To combat their fear, Salvadore declared that storm nights were game nights. If anything could distract his daughters from fear, it was fun.
Eva pictured her father pulling games out of the hall closet and setting them up on the dining room table. She pictured her mother in the kitchen filling chip bowls and humming a tune. She pictured the twins snatching the chips off the counter and racing away from their mother’s playful protests.
She pictured herself at the dining room table, ready to play.
But no.
There was no knock on her door. If there were games to be played that night during the storm, Eva would not be included.
And maybe that was best. After all, as soon as the sun went down…
“Aggh!” Eva cried out.
Her agony began in her feet. Every tiny bone seemed to dislocate in the same instant as if a firecracker had exploded in the center of her foot. But even as the bones separated, they also grew to fill the gap and slammed back together at the joints.
Call Hiro! He’ll come right away. He’ll bring the leaves. It’s not too late!
But it was too late.
The horrible pain shot up through her ankles and rocketed up both of her legs to her hips. She felt her pelvis expanding and bit down on her own hand to stifle a scream. Amazingly, the bite failed to break the skin on her hand. It was already hard and discolored as scales spread quickly from the tips of her fingers to her wrists and up toward her elbows.
Outside her window, the storm was raging. It had settled directly on top of Alpine and the wind was blowing so hard the trees in her neighborhood were leaning like blades of grass. The heavy rain flew across her window sideways as well, painting horizontal streaks on the shuddering pane of glass.
Eva’s feet and legs felt very heavy, and she felt her bed leaning heavily to one side underneath her. She tumbled off the bed with a thud and heard the floor creak. She writhed on the floor as the pain kept surging through her body. From her hips to her spine. From her spine to her ribs, her neck, her skull. Her arms were growing thick with inflated muscles and the material of her t-shirt was stretching like tissue paper.
She pulled her blanket down to cover herself. She had seen what happened to Billy. Even as her entire body changed she feared the embarrassment of her family finding her naked on the floor in a pile of torn clothes.
A thin tail pushed at the back of her pants and sprung out like a coiled snake striking at a rodent. Her raven hair disappeared into her scalp as her skull expanded and absorbed every follicle. Her t-shirt finally tore as dark yellow wings materialized under her arms and spread wide along the carpet.
Eva pushed herself awkwardly toward the wall, the floorboards straining under her weight. She pressed her changing face against the wall and opened her bony jaws to scream. Her bedroom window shattered outward and her hot breath caused the wallpaper to sizzle and peel.
One of Eva’s wings had grown so wide it was under her bed. The bones within her wing flexed so powerfully that they lifted the bed off the floor. Her other wing was expanding across the room, knocking over her dresser and spilling its drawers. Black talons pushed their way through her fingers and toes and ripped long gashes in the carpet. Her tail whipped from the floor to the ceiling and slapped her ceiling fan off its screws. It spun down and landed in the center of her reptilian back where a feathery growth was pushing through her scales along the length of her spine. The same growth was sprouting on the tops of her paws and on the top of her skull where her hair had been.
All the while, her body continued to grow larger in all directions until she was pressed against all four walls of her bedroom and knocking loose chunks of the ceiling with h
er tail.
I can’t take the pain. I can’t take the pain! I CAN’T TAKE THE PAIN!
Eva unleashed another scream. This time, a column of fire catapulted from the depths of her throat and through her gaping jaws. The orange flames painted the walls of the bedroom and ignited them insistently. She tried to scramble away from the flames, but her body had already filled the entire room and there was nowhere to go. Her claws tore gashes in the floorboards as they bowed under her weight. She thrashed her head back and forth, slamming her skull against her furniture and turning it all to splinters.
“Eva? EVA!”
Salvadore was screaming in rapid fire Spanish and throwing his shoulder against her bedroom door, but Eva’s back legs were pressed against it and it wouldn’t budge.
She heard the twins wailing.
She heard her mother shriek “TORNADO!”
And then Eva had a moment of clarity. She knew what she had to do.
She pushed hard with her powerful legs and crashed into the gap where her bedroom window had been. Her body was so huge and the force so great that most of the flaming wall broke away…
…And then she was airborne… A yellow comet…
***
Hiroki took to the sky like he’d been flying his entire life.
His slender dragon body was more aerodynamic than Billy’s bulky form, which lent itself to greater speed and precision. They flew over the rolling forest east of Alpine for a while with Billy in the lead, demonstrating various maneuvers then speeding ahead for Hiroki to attempt the same technique. He dove and pulled up just above the trees. He dipped and rolled. He used his wings to make gradual turns but used his tail like a rudder to pivot sharply. Billy was a surprisingly effective teacher. Even more surprising… he was patient.
You’re doing great Hiro. You’re twice as good as I was on my first flight.
Hiro wished he could send his thoughts into Billy’s mind to tease him that his first flight was a crash straight into the harbor, but he was too focused on dodging obstacles to attempt telepathy again.
The mountains to the west shielded the two dragons from the heaviest Pacific wind, but the rain was every bit as heavy here as in Alpine. The weather was bad enough that most people would avoid the paved roads of town and were certain to avoid mountain roads where they might get bogged down. With no witnesses on the ground, the forest was a perfect training ground.
But Hiroki wasn’t satisfied. He curved his muscular tail to slow his flight and spun on the pivot, then pounded his wings to thrust himself west. Billy caught sight of his directional change and swung wide to follow him.
No, Hiro. We should stay here where it’s safe.
Hiroki didn’t listen. He wanted to fly where Billy had flown. He wanted to experience the open air over open water.
They flew in tandem for a few miles until Billy dipped below the tree line. He emerged a moment later with Hiroki’s Buick dangling from his claws. His jaws gaping in a dragon grin, Billy hauled his load higher and rejoined Hiroki.
We’ll need it later. I’m not walking home in this weather.
The wind was far worse at the coast, but Hiroki was too determined to turn back. As they flew over the bay cliffs, Billy dipped low enough to deposit the Buick on the plateau. Hiroki protested as his car landed roughly and bounced on its suspension, but his screech was lost in the howling wind.
Lightning bolts lit up the black sky and thunder roared.
Maybe this is a bad idea, Hiro. I don’t want to get fried up here.
Hiroki couldn’t believe that Billy – the king of reckless behavior – was trying to convince him to do the sensible thing and turn back. He answered Billy’s concern by pumping his wings that much harder and soaring out to sea.
Billy hesitated for a moment then sped up to follow him.
***
The twin engines of the Alpine Angel whined as the boat climbed to the crest of a steep wave then slid down into a trough. Ocean water hosed the eighty-foot fishing trawler and threatened to wash away the gear tied to the deck. Huge coils of rope unwound and slithered across the slick surface like eels while stacked cages rattled against each other as if shaking with fright.
Douglas Humphries watched the deck of his ship from the cabin, his sleeves rolled up and both hands locked on the wheel. His face was sunburned after a long day at sea and his silver hair unkempt. He held the ship’s radio to his ear.
“What do you mean someone beat Aidan up? Who beat him up?” Humphries’ eyes were narrow, his jaw jutting. “Listen to me Esther. You do not call the police under any circumstances. But you do call those dopey friends of Aidan’s and you tell them that they can tell you everything right now, or they can tell me everything when I get back to shore. And make Aidan understand, Esther, that he will tell me exactly—”
The radio cut out suddenly and Humphries slammed it back in its holder. “I need a man on deck!” he growled. “Batten down those cages!”
Humphries’ second in command – Art Matthews – was standing behind him. He wrinkled his eyes and tugged on his gray beard. In his sixty-years on the planet, he had learned the importance of carefully chosen words. “The men may be better used bailing out the engine room, Captain. If we take on too much water, there’s a real danger of—”
“You have your orders, Matthews.”
The Alpine Angel was Art’s ship to captain most of the year, except for the rare occasions when his haughty boss decided to test his seamanship. On such days, Art had no choice but to give up the captain’s chair. It wasn’t that Humphries had no nautical skill at all. In fact, the adventurous millionaire was a reasonably capable seaman. In the early years of building his seafood empire, he had often taken the wheel of his growing fleet of ships. That was what made him so dangerous. He had enough experience and skill that he was overconfident. Despite being woefully out of practice, he frequently took unnecessary risks and he refused to listen when Art offered advice.
Most of the day, Humphries had been little more than a nuisance. But tonight, with a massive storm enveloping the Alpine Angel, the silver fox’s refusal to give up the wheel put them all in danger.
As long as they stayed straight and rode into the swells head-on, they’d be all right. Art had been in worse seas than this. He felt apprehension – any sane man would – but he felt no fear.
“Captain Humphries, sir, might I suggest that the boys stay below deck? In such big water a wave could break across the bow at any moment and wash away whatever it pleases.”
Douglas turned narrow eyes on Art. “Those cages cost money, Mr. Matthews. I won’t allow the damnable sea to rob me of my property. You can send a man out on the deck or you can do it yourself.”
Art pulled his knit cap down over his ears, tugged on his thick gray beard and prepared to speak his mind to Mr. Humphries once and for all. He wouldn’t risk his neck for anyone, and he wouldn’t allow one of his men to risk theirs. But before he could pipe up, the whining engine suddenly stopped whining. All the lights on the ship flickered out. The floodlights on deck went black, as did the light bulbs housed within the cabin.
“What in the name of hell!” Humphries shouted. He pounded the wheel and ran his fingers along the boat’s controls. “I’ve got no steering! No power! Something shorted out, Matthews! Find out what it is!”
Art fumbled for an industrial flashlight affixed to the wall and shook his head angrily. “No circuit breakers on this trawler, Captain. No power but the engines. If they stalled it’ll take at least an hour to… We’re turning sideways in the swells!”
Art used his elbow to smash the glass case that housed the Coast Guard distress beacon. He slapped his palm against the red button that triggered its signal.
“What are you doing, Matthews?! Take the wheel, damn you! Take the wheel and bring us straight again!”
“No time for that you bloody fool!” Art screamed. So much for carefully chosen words.
Art raced out of the cabin and down a narrow set o
f stairs, disappearing below deck. Humphries was hollering at him to come back, but Art no longer cared whose name was on the company charter.
This was life and death.
There were nine sailors downstairs, sitting around the kitchen table and trying to sip coffee whenever the ship’s violent rocking allowed. Some were young, some old. They all had the same expression on their faces: forced calm. None of the men would ever admit fear, but for a trained eye like Art’s their terror was unmistakable.
“Up and lively, gents! Lifeboats!” Art shouted.
The men hopped up from their seats. On unsteady feet they slipped across the floor and followed their true captain up the stairs.
Humphries watched from the wheelhouse as his crew spilled out onto the unlit deck. Two men frantically handed out survival suits – thick orange monstrosities – that would protect them from the worst effects of the frigid water once they went overboard. Their mutinous leader – Art Matthews – wrenched the lifeboat free of its iron cabinet and screamed at the men.
“You’ve got no courage!” Humphries screamed, one lock of hair hanging over his eye. “A true captain goes down with the ship!”
It was difficult to see in the darkness, but Art yanked on something too small for Humphries to make out and a bright yellow raft inflated with a lurch. The men on deck worked together to drag the raft toward the starboard railing.
That moment, a thirty-foot wave raced out of the darkness. It arced over the deck and came crashing down with silent fury. The men in the survival suits never saw it coming, and it scattered them across the deck like bowling pins. The bright yellow raft stood on end and cartwheeled toward the edge. It was halfway over the railing when Art slid across the deck and grabbed a rope. He held on with all his strength until two more men scrambled over to help him.
Art and the sailors pushed the raft toward a gap in the railing and hooked it up to a winch. One man climbed inside while the others lowered the raft overboard. They took turns climbing over the railing where an iron ladder waited.
