Is she all right? he heard Whilly ask, but his concentration was too intent upon the woman. He set her gently down onto the overgrown grass and listened frantically for a heartbeat. There wasn’t one. Her wrinkled features, though blackened by the smoke and flame, looked like death. He’d been too late. “No!” he whispered sharply, the roaring in his head intensifying to an almost intolerable level. “You can’t be dead! Be alive!” And he poured every ounce of energy, every drop of concentration
he could muster into that wish. And then, to his amazement, her chest began to rise and fall almost imperceptibly. She was breathing! His swirling mind didn’t understand any of this - she couldn’t have been dead, that would make what he did a miracle. And that was impossible.
The old woman’s blackened eyelids fluttered weakly open, and she fell into fits of raspy coughing.
At least she’s alive, the boy’s mind told him, and he sighed with exhausted relief. The conflagration in his head easily matched that in the house, and the effect on him was debilitating. He suddenly felt overpowered by weakness, and could just barely make out the smile creeping across the old lady’s haggard face.
“Thank you,” she croaked, her throat parched from the heat. But Bradley Wallace was far too lightheaded to speak, and smiled weakly.
Others are coming, Bradley Wallace, he heard Whilly say above the din. He was so sleepy.
“You saved my life,” the old woman rasped, reaching a frail, bony hand up to rest on his arm. “I won’t forget you.”
Those words pierced the blackness rapidly enclosing his consciousness, and he felt a brief wave of panic. “You have to,” he heard himself say, as though from miles away. Was that really him talking? “You can’t remember anything about me at all,” he went on, his voice fading. “You don’t know who rescued you.” The roaring finally ceased, and the dizziness took over. He wanted to explain to the woman why she couldn’t tell about him, but no words came. There was just an overwhelming lightness in his head. He suddenly felt himself being lifted and was barely cognizant of the ground falling away from him at an accelerated rate.
The last thing he noticed before blackness took him completely was the dead and desiccated gardens and brown, lifeless grass surrounding the old woman’s frail, unmoving form. Hadn’t they been alive before?
When he finally opened his eyes, Bradley Wallace found himself in the familiar circular surroundings of the old water tank, an anxious
Whilly licking his face in a concerted effort to rouse him.
The dragon’s snake-like tongue felt warm and disgustingly slimy, and Bradley Wallace cringed from it at first, not quite certain what was happening. When he realized what the dragon was doing, he stopped squirming and spoke up, swiping at the saliva on his cheek with his shirtsleeve.
“Whilly,” was all he could manage, and it was barely a murmur. His head still spun wildly, like he’d just come off the Spinning Wheel over at the Funhouse in San Francisco, and his disorientation remained acute. How did he get here?
I brought you here, Bradley Wallace, after you fainted, the dragon dutifully answered his thought. Sometimes it was kind of handy to have someone to answer your thoughts almost before you thought them. Sometimes.
And then everything flooded in on him, myriad images of the fire, and the house, and the old woman. But nothing was clear. He remembered the old woman was safe, and alive, so he must’ve gone into that furnace somehow and saved her. But how? And why couldn’t he remember? Wait. He did remember something. He remembered the woman, out in the tall grass, thanking him, telling him she would never forget him, that she would tell everyone about him. And Whilly? Had she mentioned Whilly? He wasn’t sure. But he did know what happened next.
“I made that woman forget, didn’t I?” he spoke aloud, barely a whisper. He rose to a sitting position, the fear evident on his soft, unblemished face. “I controlled her mind and made her forget about us, didn’t I?” There was an edge to his voice now.
Whilly looked away, his answer a mute silence.
“Didn’t I?” the boy repeated stridently.
Whilly knew he couldn’t tell the boy the whole truth, not yet. But the boy needed some kind of explanation, something to help his human mind accept what happened, something to curb his child’s fear.
And so Whilly did something he loathed, something he knew instinctively that a dragon should never do - he told an outright lie. *It was
me, Bradley Wallace,* he said, striving to keep the lie simple and direct. I was working through you. It was me who controlled her mind. He stopped suddenly, deciding he’d said enough. He remembered how the boy felt each time he told a lie, and that feeling pervaded his sense memory. He could understand it, now.
Bradley Wallace gazed wide-eyed and innocently into the dragon’s elongated face, his features painted with hope.
But then he locked on the dragon’s eyes, and he recognized what he’d seen so often in his own - guilt. Whilly was lying.
“Nice try,” he told the dragon with a vain attempt at levity. “But you’re a worse liar than me.”
You were so upset, came Whilly’s explanation, and he refused to meet the child’s eyes, as though he was ashamed. But Bradley Wallace was too upset to notice.
“What am I, Whilly?” he asked, his voice tiny and afraid.
You’re a human being who is very special, the dragon replied quickly. You can do things other humans can’t do. But there’s nothing wrong with that. He paused a moment, seeking a better way of expressing himself. Perhaps you are like Angelique.
The boy’s eyebrows shot up. “A witch?”
Whatever you choose to call yourself, the power exists within you, and you can use it whenever you want. To make people forget. It was at least fortunate, Whilly thought to himself, that Bradley Wallace still did not remember everything he’d done, still didn’t recognize just how powerful he really was; of course, it still wasn’t the time for him to know. And he might not understand even then.
Bradley Wallace’s gut reaction to the dragon’s suggestion was a fearful “No!”
He couldn’t face the thought of using that power again, controlling people’s minds. That was so sinister, so inhuman, so . . . evil. He stood up and shook the dizziness from his mind as he moved away from Whilly to the opposite side of the tank. “I don’t want to use it ever again.”
Not even to make people forget who we are? Whilly suggested
tantalizingly.
Bradley Wallace turned to regard his friend. “You mean . . .?” He let the question trail off, already knowing the answer and fearing it.
You have in your mind the solution to our dilemma, the dragon continued quickly, pressing forward his advantage. You can make people forget it was a young boy who saved them. And you can implant in their minds whatever “hero” you want, someone no one will ever really remember or trace back to you and I. Consider it, Bradley Wallace. You are gifted, and you can use that gift for good as well as evil.
The boy’s troubled mind worked furiously. Whilly’s idea was suddenly very tempting. It would certainly solve their latest problem and make his dynamic duo scheme a workable reality. But the unnaturalness of his “gift,” as Whilly called it, still disturbed and frightened him. Was he really some kind of witch (warlock, actually, he mentally corrected)? Or was his “talent” more like ESP?
He didn’t really understand any of this, and that ignorance added to his fear.
Together we can help many people, Bradley Wallace, Whilly suggested as the boy agonized over his decision. You can be the superhero you always dreamed of being. The dragon desperately needed to get out and do things. He had to convince the boy. He might lose his mind, otherwise, from sheer boredom.
The superhero argument really gave Bradley Wallace pause. Yes, he had always dreamed of such exploits and heroics, and it would be exciting. He did have this power after all, and not using it wouldn’t change that fact. Besides, maybe someday they’d write a comic book about his and Whilly�
�s good deeds.
He thought of the X-Men. They were mutants who had special powers. Some used their powers for good, some for evil. Whilly was right – he did have a choice. He could choose to be good. His reluctance began to slip away as thoughts of action and adventure filled his young mind. Maybe he could even “zap” John Wagner.
“Well, I guess as long as I have this thing, we might as well go for it.” He noted Whilly’s obvious relief; the dragon was definitely frustrated,
no doubt about that. But then a new possibility occurred to Bradley Wallace, one neither of them had considered. “Do you think it’s safe?” he asked suddenly, “To zap people like that, I mean?”
Whilly turned the question over in his logical mind, trying to recall what he’d been told of the boy’s power and what he knew of fragile human minds. It seemed to him that even though humans generally did not discipline their mental capability to the highest level possible, the chances were remote that Bradley Wallace could do too much damage.
I don’t believe you can harm them, Bradley Wallace, the dragon answered, for some reason feeling compelled to add, as long as you don’t push too hard.
The boy scowled. “You really know how to cheer a guy up.”
He fell into another thoughtful silence, and Whilly decided to let the matter be for the moment.
School was set to resume on January 2, just three days away, and Bradley Wallace went to work the day following his dramatic rescue of the old woman and discovery of his “ability.” It felt better to keep occupied anyway, and he definitely needed some kind of disguise in case someone should spot him and elude his mind push.
Digging through the piles of debris in his closet, he located an old Lone Ranger mask from two Halloweens ago and painted it bright red with a can of spray paint he discovered in the garage. Since he’d decided to call himself “Captain Courageous,” he removed the yellow “S” logo from his Superman cape and replaced it with a crudely drawn felt cut-out of the letter “C.” By the time he finished sewing it onto the back of the cape, he was thankful both of them were red so the blood he shed poking his fingers with the needle would be less noticeable. He still couldn’t figure out how sewing was so easy for women.
All that remained was to procure some kind of rubber stamp with a fancy “C” on it and then he could “leave his mark” at the scene of every rescue, just as Percy Blakeney had done all those years ago in France. The more he continued to work on his costume, the more excited he became. Maybe this mind push of his wasn’t so bad after all.
Of course, the mysterious rescue of the old woman had been all over the TV news the night before, and today adorned the front page of the Independent Journal. The big question everyone seemed to be asking was who had rescued her and why had they disappeared so quickly? Bradley Wallace was relieved (mostly) that the old woman herself could recall nothing of her savior, nary a detail. All she could remember was lying down to take a nap, having a weird dream wherein she seemed to be floating outside her body for a time, and finally waking up out on the front lawn, the house a blazing inferno and her neighbors and firefighters gazing anxiously down at her. At least her mind seemed undamaged by his push, and that knowledge enabled Bradley Wallace to sleep more peacefully than he had the night before.
Marge and Jack discussed the bizarre incident at dinner that night, but Bradley Wallace remained strangely quiet and more than a little nervous. It seemed somehow strange and discomforting to hear your parents talking about you without knowing they were; especially when Marge lauded the bravery of someone who’d run into a raging fire like that, adding that it was a wonderful way to end the year. Bradley Wallace sat in dry throated silence, aching to tell them the truth, to make them proud of him at last. When Katie pestered him for his opinion (which she only did because she could see he was in a pensive mood), he merely commented that the old lady was “real lucky that guy came along.”
His sister’s eyes instantly narrowed with suspicion. “Who said it was a guy?” she challenged indignantly, and he realized his blunder at once.
All eyes rested on him, and he squirmed uncomfortably. “Uh, I just figured it was, that’s all.”
Katie shook her head in disgust. “You men are all alike, all chauvinists. It could just have easily been a woman that saved her.”
Bradley Wallace almost sighed aloud with relief. For a split second there, he’d thought Katie might be on to him. Man, that was close! He didn’t say another word after that, except to thank his mother for dinner. Him and his big mouth.
That night was New Year’s Eve, and Bradley Wallace remained up with his parents and Katie to ring in the New Year with Guy Lombardo and all the old folks at the Waldorf Astoria hotel. He even got a glass of champagne for the midnight toast. As he watched the glittering ball atop the snow-covered Allied Chemical building drop slowly with the final
countdown, he thought back on what a year this had been for him. So much had happened that, were he ever to sum it all up, he didn’t know anyone who would believe him, not even himself. It all seemed so far away, now, that day back in April when Wagner chased him into the old warehouse and he’d first stumbled upon Whilly’s egg. Ironically, if it hadn’t been for Wagner, he might never have met Whilly. Someone else would’ve found the dragon and everything would be different. He actually owed Wagner a debt of gratitude. He decided that must be what Mr. O’Conner called Fate.
The ball touched down, like the lunar module on the moon, and everyone in that crowded ballroom went wild, kissing and hugging while balloons dropped from the ceiling by the thousands and old slick-hair Guy struck up the familiar strains of “Auld Lang Syne.” As the camera zoomed into a young couple kissing passionately, Bradley Wallace suddenly found an image of Josette popping into his head, and he squirmed, suddenly very uncomfortable. He still didn’t even know for sure if she was real or just someone he’d dreamed up in moments of panic. She was a big question mark in his confused mind, one of many, and his most fervent wish for the New Year was that all his questions would be answered.
Many of them would be, but in ways he never suspected.
The following day, being New Year’s, his father planted himself in front of the TV set like a new tree out in the garden, watching one football game after another. Katie, an avid football watcher in her own right, joined him, rooting and screaming so loudly the neighbors would probably think she was being murdered and call the cops. That would be funny, Bradley Wallace thought to himself as he moped around, feeling guilty because he wasn’t out there with his father, too.
A father and son should spend such days together, not father and daughter. At least, that’s what he’d always been led to believe. But he just didn’t like football. Sometimes he wondered if his and Katie’s genes or engrams or something like that had gotten scrambled up somewhere so he ended up with some of hers, and vice versa.
At his mother’s urging, he did watch part of the Rose Bowl in the afternoon, but had little to say during the game and often found his mind wandering from the action on the screen. He tried to pay attention when
his father, obviously pleased that he was watching, explained certain plays and penalties to him. It wasn’t the most exciting afternoon he’d ever spent, but it wasn’t the worst by far, either.
He slipped out during the Orange Bowl (who thought up all those names, he wondered?) to rendezvous with Whilly and discuss strategy. The more he thought about being a superhero whom no one would ever see, but everyone wonder about, who would be a mysterious, almost mystical figure, the more the notion appealed to him. And his anticipation almost matched that of the excited dragon, who seemed especially anxious to get out there and save some humans, as he put it.
For his part, Whilly was glad to see the boy so interested in something. These activities would benefit both of them, he decided, even if there were risks involved. He didn’t like it when Bradley Wallace brooded, as he had so often in the past and as he seemed on the verge of doing over his “mind push” a
bilities. The human mind fascinated him, especially a child’s mind, which can easily forget whatever it wants to, or if not actually forget, push it back into some dark corner of the subconscious where it won’t be a bother. So it was with Bradley Wallace’s fear - it had been supplanted by a child’s natural tendency to anticipate anything new and potentially exciting. Being linked to a human wasn’t always easy, but it was often quite interesting.
As they sat in the water tower on that cold, but clear January first, Bradley Wallace plucked many of these thoughts from the dragon’s musing mind, commenting that Whilly was beginning to sound like a grownup by thinking like that.
Whilly apologized, finding it difficult to hide his surprise at the boy’s accurate reading of his thoughts, and secretly vowing to be more careful next time. But Bradley Wallace was far too excited to be offended, or even much interested in Whilly’s grownup considerations. He was concentrating on possible ways they could learn who most needed the help of Captain Courageous.
Grateful for an easy way out of his mistake, Whilly suggested the first thing that came to mind. The most logical way would be to simply fly around and watch for people in trouble.
Bradley Wallace frowned and chewed his lower lip. “It’s logical,
yes, but not very efficient. I suppose I’m too young to work for the I.J., huh?” He grinned broadly, and Whilly suddenly found himself doing something else he’d never done - he looked back. He saw the past, when he was just a hatchling and this boy was young and innocent and ordinary. That’s what that grin reminded him of - the innocent child whose life he’d changed forever. He quickly shook such thoughts aside, not really certain why they materialized in the first place.
I still watch the TV news quite often, he told the thoughtful boy. If there is a live story, I could alert you and we could go there.
The boy shook his head. “We couldn’t possibly stay anonymous then, not with all the TV cameras and newspaper people there. No, we have to find trouble before those guys do.” He paused another moment, considering any other possibilities he may have overlooked. “Well,” he finally decided, “I guess your idea is the best, as usual. We’ll fly.”
A Boy and His Dragon Page 44
