Gabe nodded.
“So we have a dilemma.” She clasped her hands in front of her and leaned toward Gabe. “And I handle many dilemmas. Riots. Food shortages. Funeral arrangements. I wear many hats. I also have to look after not only the welfare of the people but these silly dragons as well. Do you know why we keep the dragons, Gabe? Do you understand what their true purpose is?”
“They’re pets for the dominion,” he said, trying to sound helpful.
“It’s a good answer, but it’s wrong. The dragons are entertainment. Nothing more.” She ran her finger down one of the dragons’ cage bars. “You see, people are violent by nature. They are born with it. It’s a hunger that is never quenched. You have to feed that hunger because if you don’t, the people become ravenous, unruly. They bring harm to one another and maybe even kill. That’s what the dragon games are for. They satisfy that insatiable hunger. People want blood. Destruction. Death. It is the very nature of man.”
He nodded. He didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to agree with whatever she said.
She continued. “That’s why we have the dragon games. They give man’s carnal nature something to look forward to and satisfy the appetite for destruction.” The Count put her arm around his shoulder and led him to Squawk’s cage. “The dragons are a sacrifice, Gabe. Mindless things. The longer they live, the more savage and vicious they become—much like men and women but without reason. You see, I can control the minds of people because I have power, but I can’t control the mind of a dragon. I don’t think anyone can, not even the gamers.” She opened the cage door. “Call for it.”
He looked up at her. “Call for it?”
“You heard me.”
He started motioning with his hand.
She squeezed his hand closed in her strong grip. “No, not with your body. Use your mind.”
Squawk was nestled in the corner of the cage, right underneath the warm glow of the yellow light. His head was buried in his body. His eyes couldn’t be seen.
“Concentrate, Gabe,” she said into his ear. “Think about the gamers. They have a connection. I believe you have it too. Show me.”
Gabe had spent plenty of time with Squawk. He’d fed the dragon, caressed him, called him by name as a man would do with a dog. But he hadn’t attempted any kind of command. He squinted and locked his eyes on the dragon. Come, Squawk. Come to me.
With her lips almost touching his ears, she said, “Are you concentrating?”
He nodded. Come, Squawk. Come.
“It’s not moving, Gabe. Why is it not moving?”
Gabe had a feeling he couldn’t explain. Without thinking, he said, “I don’t think he likes you. I mean, I think he’s scared.”
The Count’s fingernails dug into his shoulder. “Remember what I told you about fear?”
“It keeps me safe?”
“That’s right. Do you want to keep your dragon safe?”
He nodded.
“Then command it. There’s no place for a dragon that cannot be controlled, Gabe. It will be just a wild thing. And you know what we do to wild things?”
“Please, no,” he said.
“Of course you do. We put them to rest.”
CHAPTER 29
Sweat ran from his temple down to his cheek. She was going to kill the dragon or at least take it away. His thoughts raced to the image of the broken Strickland. Gabe couldn’t let that happen to him or to Squawk either.
I know you don’t like her. I don’t like her either. But you must come, Squawk. Come.
The dragon came to life. Unraveling from the small knot, Squawk crossed the cage on all fours, head low, like an obedient dog. Gabe’s arms were at his side when it happened. He hadn’t even batted an eye. But he knew that somehow his thoughts and will were locked with the dragon’s.
“Tell it to open its wings,” the Count said with anticipation in her voice.
Unsure of what to say, Gabe envisioned what he wanted to happen. Squawk’s wings unfolded and then contracted again.
In an astonished whisper, the Count said, “I’ll be damned.”
Bright-eyed and feeling a little empowered, Gabe asked, “Now what?”
She closed the cage door with her finger and fastened it shut. “Silence, boy.”
A quiet conversation started between her and Sage. Gabe didn’t pay any attention. He pictured Squawk rolling over. The dragon did it. He conceptualized a nod. The dragon nodded. He couldn’t help but think that whatever was going on was completely impossible, but it was happening. He was controlling the dragon.
Sage shuffled out of the room, leaving Gabe alone with the Count. She looked right through him into the cage. “This isn’t going to go over well with the dominion. It’s bad for me. It’s bad for you and me. And your father. Every one of these dragons is the property of the dominion. The citizens have no such possession. They have no rights to them. That dragon is not yours.” Her fingers started drumming on the gun over her waist. “But there’s something special about that runt of a dragon.” Her eyes glazed with passion. “I can feel it in my bones. I know you feel it too.”
There was no denying it. Gabe felt a foot taller than he had minutes earlier. All that he wanted to do was play with the dragon.
“Child, you need to heed my words. Don’t share this gift you have with anyone aside from your father. When others are around, you and the dragon keep away from one another. We have time. We have time…” Her voice trailed off. Hands behind her back, she began pacing around the cages.
Gabe started wringing his hands. Something was going on. It was beyond him. He wished his father were there. He felt cornered, as if his entire world had changed in the wink of an eye, and it wasn’t a good thing. Back in the cage, Squawk had curled back up in his corner.
The Count brushed up against Gabe. “I’ll talk things over with your father. In the meantime, go about your business, and stay out of trouble. Keep those lips sealed. Don’t mess this up, child. Don’t mess this up at all.”
CHAPTER 30
Gabe sat down in the stuffy commissary, biting his nails. It had been over a week since he’d been back to the dragon den. Sleep had been hard to come by the last few days too. Despite all of his father’s assurances that things were fine, he couldn’t fight the churning in his gut that told him something was wrong. He needed to see Squawk. Not seeing the dragon was killing him.
He sat at the small table that wobbled every time one of them moved. He caught his grandmother’s disapproving look. He pulled his chewed-up fingernails from his teeth. He’d been babysitting her for hours every day, watching her play the same card games over and over. With Cotton gone, she only had one friend left to play with—a woman with a little bit of red still left in her hair who’d always managed to smell like flowers. Now she was gone too. “Just like Cotton,” the citizens said. “Snatched in the night to never be seen or heard from again.” Gabe didn’t even know the woman’s name.
Saul had insisted on someone being with Mabel all day after that. And he somehow did it without saying so out loud. He wasn’t the only one, either. Plenty of the other families were doing the same thing—sticking together. There weren’t too many of the old ones left. Out of the entire compound, there were maybe fifty or so, if he were to guess.
Mabel showed her cards to Morty with a triumphant smile. Unlike many of the old ones, she still had her teeth.
Rocking side to side, Morty said, “Dang it. Dang it. Give me a rope to hang it.” He giggled, swiped the cards, and started shuffling the deck. His fingers were surprisingly nimble for an old man. He dealt the cards as quickly as anyone at the tables.
For the hundredth time, Gabe paced the room. He almost missed scrubbing the walls. He knew the withered faces as well as his own. The old ones played cards, chess, and checkers. They munched on hard crackers. It was a chronic agitating sound, slow and steady. Some of them spent more than an hour eating one cracker.
There wasn’t much to wash the dry crackers down wi
th, either. There were some small cups on the table with water, but not a lot of it. Every few hours, a girl would come around with a jug and give the old ones a refill. Water was rationed more heavily than anything else. There were some water catchers, cisterns, and even water carriages. Rain came but not often enough, and when it did come, a fierce storm was with it, often more wind than water. And too much rain would bring flooding.
An old woman’s cards shook out of her trembling hands and fell to the floor. Gabe picked them up and fit the cards back into her hands. She gave him a sweet look. “Thank you, Willie.”
“It’s Gabe.” He patted her on the head. “Never mind. Go fish, Lois.”
About a half hour later, Saul showed up. With a smile on his face, he gave Mabel a kiss on the cheek. “It looks like the lot of you are having a good time.”
Gabe wanted to tell his dad that sitting with Mabel all day long was driving him crazy, but he’d done that plenty of times. It’s not going to do me any good, anyway. “Sure, Dad. Everyone is having a blast. Just look at Morty. He hasn’t won a hand with Mabel yet, but he can sense his luck is about to change.”
Morty looked up at Saul. “Hey, Mike! Hey, Mike! Hey, Mike!”
“It’s good to see you too, Morty,” Saul said. “Come on, Gabe, let’s go.”
Gabe hopped out of his chair. “What? Really? What about Mabel?”
With a knowing look, Saul said, “She should be fine.”
They departed. Heading back out of the hospital, he couldn’t help but ask, “So you aren’t worried about her anymore.”
“No. I think whatever is going on is dying down. The dominion and the citizens have had some negotiations, and I’ve a feeling that things will turn back to normal.”
“The Count’s going to ease up on the rationing?”
“Something like that. Say, are you in the mood for some meat?”
Gabe’s mouth started to water. “Don’t tease me, Dad. I can still taste it from the last time.”
“Look,” Saul said. There were several valuable coins in his palm. “You’re going to eat like the dominion today.”
“Where’d you get that?” Gabe said in a voice so loud that Saul had to shush him.
“We’re dragon hunters. Dragon keepers. It’s back pay.”
They hustled down the streets, bypassing several small establishments that had no doors but were dark within. They reeked of strange odors. Odd sounds came from inside them. It was an area that Saul had told him to stay away from, but it was a shortcut to elsewhere.
Covering his nose, Gabe asked, “We?”
Saul gave him a strong side-arm hug. “You and me, boy. They’re going to let you keep working with me. Let me teach you what I can—total authority. Garland will have a fit because he has to let you in every day.”
Gabe lost his breath. Finally catching it, he said, “You mean I can see Squawk whenever I want?”
“They’re going to even let you go in without me—well, once it’s approved.” Saul picked Gabe up and swung him around. “Boy, you’re getting too big for me to do that. It seems like the one above is smiling down on us for a change. Hah. They’re even going to pay us. But listen, and this is important. Don’t share this news with the others. Not a single person. If one word gets out, people will be jealous. Our wage is gonna be a share higher than theirs.”
“It’s because of me and Squawk, isn’t it? And I’m not in trouble for it.” His eyebrows buckled. “It sounds good, but it doesn’t sit well.”
“Let’s just go and get something to eat first. We can talk about more with our bellies full.”
If his father was okay with it, then he was okay with it. It was a sudden turn of events, but as long as he got to see Squawk again, then he was all in.
The sun was setting behind the background of another typical cloudy day when they ducked into the tunnel that connected one side of the complex’s buildings to the agricultural arena. Aside from the dominion’s estates, it was the most heavily guarded part of the complex. There were storehouses as tall as they were wide. Animals roamed behind the tall fences that separated one quadrant from another, and there were chicken coops, pig holes, and barnyard stalls. Cows mooed. Horses whinnied. The smell of manure was prominent, but it wasn’t any worse than the other side of the city. Arguably, it was a little better.
It took some clout to get into the agricultural arena. Gabe had only been there once, years before, but he never forgot it. He’d eaten the best food he’d ever tasted in his life.
Gabe sneezed. That had happened the last time he’d been there too. Something always made his nose itch.
A guard cut them off, club in hand, eyeballing them up and down. Saul handed him a token with a smile. The guard snorted.
As Gabe and his father ventured deeper into the center, a pair of heavy hands slapped both of their shoulders from behind.
It was Malak.
CHAPTER 31
Saul went pale. “Hey, Malak.”
The red-faced man glowered at Saul and Gabe. “What brings you over this way, Saul?”
“Uh,” Saul replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I always set something aside so we can have a fine meal every year or so. It’s just a little celebration.”
“And what might you be celebrating?”
“Gabe’s last three birthdays.”
The bullish man grunted and spit on the ground. “This is the month that young Ross was born. We used to celebrate in a similar fashion too. He was my eldest.” He glanced at Gabe. “But at least I had two. I couldn’t imagine living without the one.”
Facing the bigger man, Saul said, “I never got to express—”
“No, Saul, no.” Malak clawed his fingers through his beard. “I have reconciled myself. The dead are dead. We remember. We live on. Young Ross would like that.” He held his hand up. Saul locked fingers with the other man. “The hunters need to stay together, Saul. We miss your presence. When you finish the celebration with your son, come and share a pint of that goat urine that Buggy makes.”
Gabe’s disgust must have shown on his face. Saul started laughing, and Malak joined in.
“I’ll be there,” Saul said.
“See you soon, then!” Malak walked off with a bounce in his step and started singing.
Smiling, Saul watched him go. “Even the most painful moments in life will pass, son. So are you hungry?”
“Yes, but you aren’t going to really drink goat piss later, are you?”
***
Father and son sat inside a dining hall, eating. It was a windowless place, exposed to the elements, filled with tables and chairs made from colorful plastic with metal legs. A honey-haired woman sat on a stool in the corner, playing a guitar and singing a gentle tune. The place could seat about two hundred people, but only a handful sat inside, enjoying a hot meal. They were better kept than most of the citizens, even though they weren’t part of the dominion. Saul said hello and shook hands with a few of them.
Gabe ate fried eggs and slices of ham. His bread was slathered in butter. He washed the food down with a sugary drink of honey mixed with milk and water. It was the best thing that he’d ever tasted.
“Don’t rush it—enjoy it.” His father sawed into a savory hunk of ham with a knife and stabbed it with a fork. He ate it and moaned. “Ah, that’s good.”
“Even better than the last time.” Gabe took another bite of his eggs and gulped down more of his drink. The food was ten times better than the bland crackers, oats, and rice that made up the majority of everyone’s diet. Rice. Water. Oats. The citizens had a few other foods, but they mostly ate those three items. “I wish we could eat like this all of the time.”
“Maybe not all of the time,” Saul said with a smile, “but perhaps more often.”
“Really?”
“I don’t see why not. Besides, once you get a taste of that honey, you’ll want to work harder for more of it, won’t you?”
Gabe nodded. “How do they make this drink so
sweet?”
“That’s the honey from the bees. The bees make the wax too. For the candles.” He pointed at the candle on the table. It was a forest-green jar full of wax with an orange flame flickering on the top. “Once we finish up, I’ll take you over to the beekeepers.”
“You mean to tell me that those little buzzing bugs make the honey and the wax?”
“It’s a miracle, isn’t it?”
“And they can fly too! Now, that’s a miracle. I can’t do any of those things.”
“They even have a weapon too,” his father said. “A spear, just like mine.”
“I know. I’ve been stung five times. You wouldn’t think that something so tiny could hurt so much.” He gulped down what was left of his drink and scooted his cup over to his father. “Any chance that I can get some more? Please?”
With a wink, Saul took the cup. “I’ll see what I can work out.” He got up and went over to the man and woman who oversaw the establishment. They were dressed in soft linens of many colors. The woman had jewelry dangling all over her neck, arms, and earlobes. It rattled every time she moved. She handed something to Saul in a quick exchange.
Gabe nibbled on a piece of bacon and licked the grease from his fingers. All of the patrons wore smiles instead of the frowns that were customary back in the compound. He noted many of the faces. According to Saul, most of them had been put in charge of one task or another by the Count. They were the people who kept the compound running—they filled the lanterns with oil, scrubbed the walls, and distributed the food. They did it all with the Count’s thumb right on top of them, and if they didn’t do a good job, they were out. Being out meant no honey, no eggs, no meat, no status. Saul had chuckled as he’d explained it. The deputies had everything they wanted except freedom. “Working with a count is like working for a scorpion. You never know when she might sting you.”
Squawk: Beginnings (Book #1) Page 11
