A Boy and His Dragon

by Michael J. Bowler

  He amped up his power and pulled rapidly John up alongside him. Bradley Wallace asked uncertainly” “Do you know the way to the zoo?”

  John’s eyes nearly dropped from his sockets and his lapse in concentration caused him to falter slightly. “No! I thought you did!”

  “How should I know?” Bradley Wallace snapped back in consternation. “I’ve never flown there before!” He suddenly felt so incredibly stupid. After all this, Whilly could still die because he didn’t know the way to the damned zoo!

  “I think it’s near the ocean,” John suggested carefully. “But I’m not sure. I haven’t been there since I was little.”

  Even through the thick mist between them, Bradley Wallace could easily detect the look of sad remembrance on John’s sometimes very grown up features.

  “Okay,” he said in a more compassionate tone of voice, “We’ll just follow the shore till we find it. It’s gotta be there somewhere.”

  He turned back to gaze straight ahead at the first of the two massive red bridge towers looming before him, barely poking their spires out of the thick, penetrating fog bank.

  “Watch out for that fog!” Bradley Wallace warned. “If we get separated in there we might never find each other.”

  There was a momentary pause as they looked at each other uncertainly.

  “Maybe we should hold hands,” John suggested finally, echoing Bradley Wallace’s very thought. He looked embarrassed, and Bradley Wallace felt the same.

  Somehow the thought of holding hands with John Wagner seemed indecent, or even repellant. Anybody else, maybe. But John Wagner? And then he realized that he was recalling the John Wagner of old, the one before Whilly.

  He smiled openly and stretched out his hand. John hesitated but a moment before gripping it tightly. A tingle of pleasurable energy surged through his body at the touch. He returned the smile uncertainly, and then they plunged through the wall of fog and vanished from each other’s sight.

  The dense vapor felt cold and moist against their skin, and both welcomed the warm touch of the other. They could barely see a foot in any direction, and Bradley Wallace steered them (hopefully) away from the dangerously close bridge towers and out toward the ocean. He felt as though he was swimming in thick, viscous soup, and slackened his pace slightly. After what seemed an eternity without sight or sound and only the touching of their hands to indicate the presence of other life in this vast sea of white, the wall of fog ended with a sudden blast of blinding sunlight, and the boys found themselves soaring high above the lush expanse of The Presidio, an old army base that was now a national park.

  “I thought you were steering us toward the ocean,” John shouted good-naturedly.

  Bradley Wallace didn’t realize the other boy was joking, and

  flashed him an irritated look. “It wasn’t exactly easy to see in there, you know!”

  Then both boys realized they were still holding hands, and disengaged themselves awkwardly, Bradley Wallace turning red with embarrassment.

  He looked away, and his heart leapt for joy. For there, not far to his right, shimmering like glitter in the sunlight, was the ocean. “There it is!” he shouted exultantly, and he banked sharply toward the shoreline. John followed.

  Now that they had escaped the fog bank, Bradley Wallace felt a desperate need to make up for lost time. He called back to John that he was going to increase their speed, and the other boy nodded silently.

  Bradley Wallace’s emerald eyes, limned with a brilliant scarlet, anxiously flicked back and forth across the city below, nearly holding his breath in anticipation. Not far from the beach and its expanse of foamy whitecaps, he spotted a huge area surrounded by a high fence in which a number of rocky enclosures were situated on a series of concrete pathways. Even from his extreme height, the boy’s dragon-enhanced eyes easily picked out the shapes of roving animals - giraffes, and elephants, even buffalo, pacing back and forth within their enclosures.

  “There it is!” he shouted excitedly, pointing wildly down at the fast approaching zoo.

  John followed his gaze, and as they moved closer scanned the zoo grounds suspiciously. “I think it’s closed, Bradley Wallace,” he called, the worry in his voice easily detectable. “I don’t see any people around, and it should be open.”

  Bradley Wallace had observed the same phenomenon, and neither had to voice the concern each of them shared. The zoo was closed when it should be open. Which meant it might be a trap. A trap for them.

  Then Bradley Wallace’s keen eyesight spotted the front entrance, and the explanation for the empty zoo. The wall around the front was made of large stones, and a wooden sign hung suspended from an old-fashioned pole. In white letters was written “San Francisco Zoo.” But, as Bradley Wallace pointed out to John, a makeshift sign had been hung beneath the regular one that spelled out in hand-painted letters: “Closed Temporarily Due to Storm Damage.”

  “They must not want anyone to know they have Whilly here,” he told the nervous John as they passed high above that stone wall and glided over the central courtyard.

  “Maybe,” John commented dubiously, still fearful of a trap. “But we don’t even know who ‘they’ are!”

  Bradley Wallace frowned but said nothing. After all, they would know soon enough.

  The animals appeared restless and skittish, pacing nervously in their various enclosures, which were small, largely inadequate substitutes for their natural environments. For the first time, Bradley Wallace felt sorry for these poor trapped creatures, seeing life from their point of view, denied the freedom they must desperately crave. Especially the lions, he thought sadly as they passed above the King of Beasts. He knew he would hate every minute of such a life, as would any human. He’d rather be dead.

  Then, as they glided above the Indian elephant enclosure, Bradley Wallace felt a familiar, wonderful stirring in his mind, faint, but definitely the most beautiful feeling in the world - Whilly!

  “There!” he pointed excitedly at the large, low structure just behind the elephant section. “They have him in that building!”

  John gazed down uncertainly at the innocuous structure with its pitted and scarred coat of light pink paint, and doubt forced its way to his lips. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Bradley Wallace assured him confidently, his heart beating wildly. The power within him was increasing. “And we don’t have much time.”

  The ground loomed ever closer as the two boys descended toward a large, circular fountain near the building in question.

  Bradley Wallace noted the complete lack of visible human life as a definite bad sign, but didn’t have time to be quiet or particularly careful. He slowed his downward plunge with a concerted effort of his mind, and

  alighted to the ground with a gentle somersault that landed him easily on his feet. Though he tried to ease John in similarly, the other boy grew increasingly more nervous as the ground approached, making his body difficult to control. Fearing John might be injured if he landed wrong, Bradley Wallace had no choice but to steer him into the fountain.

  John landed with a splash and a yelp, and in spite of his anxiety, Bradley Wallace giggled like a little kid. John scowled as he picked himself out of the green, murky water and stepped gingerly over onto the concrete walkway. Despite the cushion of water, he still ached from the landing.

  “You’ll have to work on that landing,” Bradley Wallace whispered, giggling again.

  “How’d you like a fat lip?” John threatened in annoyance. He never had liked being laughed at.

  Bradley Wallace stopped giggling. Maybe Wagner hadn’t changed much after all, he thought as he turned to scan the surrounding walkways and animal pens.

  If he had thought the zoo seemed stark when it was crowded, it appeared downright desolate when empty, almost like the aftermath of a nuclear war. And the silence was eerie, almost threatening.

  The several elephants in the enclosure to their left regarded the two boys with disinterest, and Bradley Wal
lace had to look away in disgust from the tacky jungle mural painted across the back wall. Not to mention the sadness and boredom in those tiny, deep-set eyes.

  He gestured for John to follow and led the way along a hedge flanking one side of the pen. Thick, shady trees obscured most of the sun, and the empty walkway seemed to be alive with shadows.

  They stepped off the path and cut between some trees around the building in which Bradley Wallace knew Whilly to be a prisoner. The ground cover of dead leaves crackled noisily under their feet, and Bradley Wallace hoped no animal had taken a dump along here. He didn’t have any shoes on, after all.

  The front of the structure was painted a faded off-white, and a

  strange word was carved into the masonry high above the set of twin doors. “What does ‘Pachyderms’ mean?” Bradley Wallace asked John quietly, trying his best to get the pronunciation correct.

  “How should I know?” John shrugged irritably. “You were always smarter in Baldie’s class than me.”

  “Not that smart,” Bradley Wallace replied, indicating the word. They were standing behind a couple of thick trees watching the door carefully for any sign of movement. But everything was deathly silent.

  “What do you think?” John asked finally, a bit nervous. “Is it a trap?”

  Bradley Wallace gazed at the silent door, wishing fervently that it could answer John’s question. Or that he had x-ray vision so he could see inside. The tremendous wall of windows to the right of the doors was covered from inside, so there was no way to tell what was within. He sighed with determination. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Stepping from behind his tree, Bradley Wallace moved toward the twin doors carefully, eyes flickering from side to side suspiciously. John followed, resisting the urge to tell Bradley Wallace that his hospital gown had come untied and his rear end was embarrassingly visible. John averted his eyes instead.

  Bradley Wallace halted before the doors, and John stopped at his side. Taped to the door on the left was a white sign that said: “Building Closed.” John and Bradley Wallace exchanged a look before the latter reached out a tentative hand toward the oxidized copper door handle.

  A sharp voice cracked behind them like a gunshot. “Okay, boys, hold it right there.”

  So it was a trap after all. The boys whirled to face the source of that voice, and Bradley Wallace gasped aloud. Two young soldiers in full uniform stood before them, guns pointed threateningly in their direction.

  “The army?” Bradley Wallace exclaimed incredulously.

  “That’s right,” one freckle-faced soldier replied, who didn’t look terribly much older than John. He wore a tank-green cap, but traces of flame red hair could just be detected beneath it. The other young man

  looked slightly older, with more angular features and no freckles. Neither even so much as hinted at a smile. “Colonel Dearborn has been expecting you,” carrot-top continued dispassionately. “Please come with us quietly. We don’t want to hurt you.”

  John eyed the guns nervously.

  But anger flared in Bradley Wallace, that dangerous, uncontrollable anger he’d experienced before and which he knew, considering the power seething within him, could destroy the entire zoo. What business had the army with Whilly, and what kind of terrible experiments were they attempting on his friend? His eyes flashed a bright vermeil, and he called up the power to strike down the two soldiers before him.

  But the nagging little voice at the back of his mind told him to wait and conserve his energy, that he would need it later. Besides, as he gazed deeply into the eyes of the two young men and saw through to their souls, he realized they didn’t like pointing guns at kids any more than he liked having it done.

  Compassion and control won out for the moment, and he forced the power back down.

  But there was too much energy, he knew, between his and Whilly’s, and eventually he’d have to expend it or explode. John watched him anxiously as the soldiers led them through the open doorway, obviously wondering what he intended to do. But even Bradley Wallace didn’t know that. Yet.

  The interior of the building was even more dingy than the exterior, and as the foursome passed through the cavernous main section, Bradley Wallace noted the huge sliding doors providing access to the elephant enclosures. Their footfalls echoed throughout the nearly empty chamber, in which a number of crates and packing cases were scattered about.

  They arrived at a long corridor containing a number of closed doors, one directly at the end, and four or five along each side. The soldiers escorted them to one such door marked “Dr. Marshall,” and knocked sharply before entering.

  But it was not a doctor who turned from his place at the far

  window to regard the two boys as carrot-top announced their presence. This man was an army officer of substantial rank, or at least so Bradley Wallace thought, eyeing the shoulder stripes and uniform carefully, and noting, with a certain amount of satisfaction, that the man was shorter than he and not at all intimidating. He had crew cut brown hair, rather bushy eyebrows, and piercing grey eyes that put John Wagner’s to shame. Those eyes widened with apparent relief.

  “Bradley Wallace,” he said with a smile, “I’m so glad you finally got here. I’m Colonel Dearborn.”

  He extended a hand, which Bradley Wallace merely stared at suspiciously. Dearborn withdrew the gesture with a slightly impatient shrug. “I was just about to get you out of that hospital myself, even though it would’ve stirred up more attention than we wanted.” He indicated the boy’s loose gown. “I gather you made a rather fast getaway.”

  For the first time since leaving the hospital, Bradley Wallace felt embarrassed about his lack of proper clothing, and modestly pulled the flimsy gown more tightly around his backside.

  When Dearborn spoke, his voice sounded almost gentle, confusing both boys, who’d envisioned the colonel to be some kind of whip-cracking monster that would probably torture them unmercifully and then lock them up in a rat-infested cell with only stale bread and dirty water for sustenance. So much for movies, Bradley Wallace decided as he watched the little man considering him. And yet, however nice Dearborn may appear on the surface, he still had Whilly, and at the moment that made him the enemy.

  “I don’t know you,” Dearborn frowned questioningly at John, scrutinizing him carefully.

  “I’m John,” he identified himself politely, fighting his own preconceptions of what Dearborn should have been like. But John always distrusted everyone he didn’t know, and most people he did know. He wasn’t about to let some crummy army colonel catch him off-guard with phony niceness. Next thing he’d be drafted.

  “My intelligence report doesn’t mention you, John, but welcome nonetheless,” Dearborn went on. “We’ll find out what your part is in this

  later, eh?” He waved the subject aside as of no importance, and his politeness irked Bradley Wallace.

  “Where’s Whilly?” the boy demanded fiercely, stepping forward to face the little man eye to forehead.

  He heard the click of a trigger behind him and John’s gasp, but paid them no heed. His and Whilly’s spirits were converging within him, and he knew the dragon had barely a half hour of life left. Perhaps less.

  If Dearborn was disturbed by the boy’s threatening animosity, he gave no indication. “He’s here, Bradley Wallace, in the room at the end of this hallway. And he needs your help.”

  The boy had expected defiance, or at least an ignoring of his question. The man’s obviously sincere answer troubled him with its implications. Was the honesty merely a trick to gain Bradley Wallace’s trust, he wondered, or was it possible the colonel really wanted to help?

  “Corporal,” he addressed one or both of the soldiers (who, to John’s intense relief, holstered their guns), “Take these boys to the room with the old man, and get them food or soda - whatever they want.”

  “Yes, sir,” carrot-top replied crisply, like the snap and crackle of a brand new dollar bill.

  Dear
born pointed out Bradley Wallace’s hospital gown with a slight smile. “And get Bradley Wallace some decent clothes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dearborn focused his penetrating gaze on the two boys, making John extremely uncomfortable. “We’ll talk again in a few minutes.”

  “We don’t have a few minutes!” Bradley Wallace snapped angrily. “Whilly’s going to die!”

  Dearborn frowned. “How do you know that?”

  Bradley Wallace lifted his chin in defiance, refusing to answer. It was obvious Dearborn knew nothing of his true relationship with the dragon, and it was no doubt best to keep it that way. That secret seemed to be his only ace in the hole.

  The colonel sighed. “All right, have it your way. I’ll join you shortly. Corporal.”

  “This way,” Bradley Wallace heard carrot-top speak behind him. He cast one more penetrating look at Dearborn before turning to follow John from the office, the red-haired corporal bringing up the rear.

  The boy’s mind spun with countless questions. What old man? Why did they have Whilly? And how did they find him in the first place? Just what was going down around here, anyway?

  He exchanged a searching look with John as they moved down the hall past several more doors, but the other boy’s face merely reflected a similar bewilderment.

  They were halted in front of another door, this one unmarked. “You can wait in here and I’ll bring you some clothes,” carrot-top told them, unlocking the door with a key from his belt. “Do you guys want anything to eat or drink?”

  Both boys shook their heads simultaneously. They still didn’t think the army could be trusted. The food might be poisoned.

  The young soldier swung the creaky door outward and gestured for them to enter. Bradley Wallace’s little voice still advised him to withhold his power, assuring him that the time was drawing near. He stepped into the small, sparsely furnished office and stood beside John, staring. A white-haired old man sat with his back to them, gazing intently out the closed window at the bleak and empty zoo beyond. As the man turned his face to them, Bradley Wallace gasped. The man was Mr. O’Conner.