by Gavin Brown
“I think our best bet is to extinguish its flame,” Karim suggested.
The three friends exchanged skeptical looks.
Tommy shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, I guess.”
Spike opened the translator function and held out her phone, inching as close to the barricaded door as she dared. On the other side, the dragon growled.
“Hungry, hungry, eat,” the robotic voice on the phone said a second later.
“Dragon, can you hear me?” Spike said into her phone’s speaker. The phone made a series of growls.
The dragon grumbled again. “Prey! Eat you. Hungry!” the phone said.
Spike sighed, glaring at her phone. “I guess that’s not going to help.”
Karim scanned the razorback entry, looking for anything that would help them. “When razorbacks start hunting you, they ignite their flame sacs. They keep chasing until you’re dinner or the fires are out.”
“How long can that take?” Tommy asked hopefully.
Karim looked down again. “Hours,” he answered.
“What if I just charge it?” Tommy asked. “We could open the door and throw the water at it, maybe shut down its flame sac if I get a good shot.”
“It would be one of us jumping through an open door that it’s already attacking,” Spike said. “There’s no way we would get that lucky. You’d get fried and then it would come in for us. We need more info. What else do we know about them?”
Karim glanced through the entry in Monsterpedia. “They are proud, territorial … they have a strong sense of honor, they won’t let anyone ride on their back … and when they’re hungry, they’re vicious. That’s the side we’re seeing now.”
“That doesn’t help us much,” Tommy said, frowning.
Karim shook his head. He couldn’t figure it out. These rules were too restrictive. There weren’t enough options to put together a plan that could beat the razorback.
Well … what did you do when you couldn’t beat the rules? You changed the rules.
He looked around the room another time, trying to broaden his vision. How could he change the rules of the situation?
“These walls,” Karim said, eyeing them speculatively. “This one is concrete.” He patted the wall that held the door. “But the others … they’re just drywall.”
“Okay,” Spike said. “So?”
Karim held out Sidesplitter. “This sword probably can’t cut through a fire door like the one on the stairs, but this wall …” He looked over at his bulky friend. “Tommy smash?”
A grin spread over Tommy’s face as he realized what was being asked of him. He took the sword and sized up the wall. “It’s not smashing, exactly. Let’s call it … remodeling.”
“Remodeling?” Spike quietly pulled up her phone, flicking the video on. Karim smiled. If they survived, this could be a pretty great moment.
“This basement has potential, but it’s a real fixer-upper,” Tommy said, stepping to the wall and pulling the sword back. “We’re just going to take out”—he paused as he took a chop at the drywall—“this wall.” He struck it a few more times. “It’s just constricting the whole vibe in here,” he added, then kicked the piece of drywall, forcing it to buckle inward. With a few more slices and a firm shove, Tommy staggered through the wall in a cloud of dust, revealing a hole. “See, it really opens the space up and lets it breathe.”
As the drywall pieces fell to the ground, the trio heard a sharp crack behind them. Karim glanced at the door, where the dragon’s nose was poking through.
“Go, go!” Spike said.
They rushed through the opening in the wall and into the corridor beyond as a blast of flame erupted from the beast’s mouth.
Karim looked left and right. Two identical corridors. Neither held a path out of danger. No easy answers there. Wherever they went, the dragon could follow them. And none of them would take them to a route out.
“Where to?” Tommy asked.
“Uh … left,” Karim said, picking at random. They ran down the corridor, putting some distance between themselves and the dragon.
“Okay, so we are slightly less trapped,” Spike said as they reached the far side of the floor. “But still very trapped. We need a plan. What’s our next move? Is there some way that we can still get that water down its throat?”
Karim nodded, trying to keep the flow of ideas in his head from shutting down completely as the door behind them started to crack.
“Well … we know that the razorback is attracted to smell,” he said. “If we’re going to get the water down its throat, we need to distract it.”
Spike looked at Tommy, grinning widely.
“What, you’re going to use me as bait?!” Tommy was furious. “No way!”
“Not you,” Spike said. “Just your scent.”
Karim felt himself smile as he realized what she meant. The BroteinCon (“Get so fit you don’t fit in your clothes”) T-shirt that Tommy was wearing was not just sweaty—around the armpits, the sweat was practically dripping off it.
“You guys just want to see me flex my glorious pecs,” Tommy said after they had explained the plan to him. “Well, here you go. Gun show, tickets for two.” Tommy pulled the shirt over his head and handed it to Spike.
“Gross.” She wrinkled her nose and held it between two fingers as far from her as she could. “Well, let’s get this over with as soon as possible.”
After the heat of being trapped in that room, the cool air felt good across Tommy’s back as they ran. He would probably be cold soon, but it was better than being fast-roasted barbecue dinner for a dragon.
The jug of water was feeling heavier the longer Tommy carried it, but he could handle it. This was what he’d been training for. His heart was fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, but he set his shoulders and paid attention to what his friends were saying.
Spike and Karim had been throwing ideas back and forth the entire time they were running, in their usual shorthand of half sentences and references to things that Tommy didn’t know. But Tommy didn’t mind; they would let him know what he needed to do when the time came. And he was confident it would work. Pretty confident, anyway.
On the other side of the basement, they checked that the other stairwell was definitely blocked off with one of those steel fire doors.
“As we expected,” Spike said.
“I still kind of hoped,” Karim said with a sigh.
“Okay, anyway, this is stage one of the plan,” Spike explained. “Put out the razorback’s fire so that it calms down. Then hopefully we can sneak out and find a way out of here.”
“Maybe climb the elevator shaft,” Karim suggested. “Or the air ducts.”
“Can we really climb through air ducts?” Tommy asked, excited. He’d always wanted to do that.
“Almost certainly not,” Spike said. “At least, not the way it works in movies and video games. “If it is possible, we’ll have to cut out a way through with the sword. I might be able to slip through and come back and unlock the doors.”
Tommy scowled. Reality was constantly ruining his fun.
“Anyway,” Karim continued, “the first step is to get this dragon off our backs. According to Monsterpedia, if you can put out its flame, it’ll usually run and hide while it replenishes.”
Tommy was sometimes tempted to read up on all the monsters, but then Karim wouldn’t get to play the role of Mr. Know-It-All. And that would be mean.
Karim used the magical sword to cut the top off the jug so that Tommy could easily throw the water in one big splash. Karim had the sweaty shirt on the end of a rope and was going to use that to draw in the razorback. When the dragon finally caught up and was able to eat the shirt, Tommy was supposed to throw the water down its throat.
“There will be a moment when the razorback grabs the shirt,” Karim explained. “It will toss its head back and wolf it down. That’s when you go. After that, we’ll both run into this room. Spike will slam the door shut as soon as you
’re in.”
Spike always seemed to arrange plans so that he and Karim were the ones to take the risks, but Tommy was okay with that. Karim was barely any better, though he was starting to show some spunk. But Tommy—he was born to take risks. Tommy was the bait and the trap.
Still, he hated to admit it, but he was kind of scared. This dragon’s teeth looked nasty.
At first everything went smoothly. Tommy pressed up against the corner at the end of the hallway with his water, listening to the slithering sound of the approaching beast. Karim was waiting on the opposite corner, peering around the wall and slowly pulling on the rope, drawing the dragon toward them.
Tommy could see the tension in the boy’s tight features and wide eyes, but he seemed to be keeping it together. The dragon advanced steadily, and Tommy’s grip on the water jug tightened.
Finally, the sweaty shirt squished to a halt only a few feet away from them. Only the “Bro” in the Brotein (“Don’t roll with the punches—be the punches”) logo was visible.
Karim nodded, then dropped the rope. Tommy peeked around the corner and saw the dragon lean down and sniff. It licked the shirt cautiously. Karim looked to be holding back from hurling. Tommy grinned. Mom and all his friends were wrong. Not everyone hated the way he smelled after a workout.
Finally, the scaled head grabbed the shirt in its jaws and reared back to swallow it whole. This was his moment. It was time for the big play.
Tommy charged around the corner, playing what this scene would look like on a highlight reel in his head. He stepped forward as the razorback wriggled its body and neck to get the shirt to go down. Tommy raised the jug above his head, surprised by how high he had to go. Just another foot and he could—
Suddenly, the dragon spun, and for an instant Tommy made eye contact with it. Its eyes were pure red, filled with the rage of a beast on the hunt. He leaped forward with his jug, ready to deliver it into the monster’s gaping jaws. But its tail whipped around as it spun, causing Tommy’s legs to lift out from under him, and he tumbled backward. The jug and its water went flying, and Tommy landed hard on his back, the breath knocked from his lungs.
They never should have been here. His dad was right. How had Karim let this happen? This was no Level 1 or 2 monster, where the worst that could really happen was a broken bone or waiting a couple weeks for petrification to wear off. This was a Level 7 beast, deadly to all but the most skilled and experienced adventurers. Even the Fang in his day would have rounded up a party of four or five to take one down.
Tommy gasped for air and feebly attempted to scramble backward as the dragon scraped forward across the concrete floor. Karim shook his head, watching in frozen horror. Tommy was about to die, and he and Spike would be next.
Time seemed to stand still as the dragon advanced on his friend. Could Karim fight it? He still had Sidesplitter in his left hand, purple nail polish glimmering in the flashlight’s illumination. That was what he was supposed to do now, right? The plan had failed and Tommy was about to die, so Karim was meant to charge in and save the day, using his magical sword to battle the creature. He would somehow overcome the odds. And he knew the odds of a kid going toe-to-toe with an enraged Saskatchewan razorback without a way to extinguish its flame. The enchanted sword might be able to penetrate its scales, but Karim knew he would be torn apart before he got in more than a blow or two. And with his strength, he doubted he could do more than just chip the dragon’s armor, anyway.
Karim’s muscles were stuck. He tried to move, but his body just wouldn’t respond. Don’t do it, every part of his body and mind were saying.
The razorback’s massive bulk glimmered in the glow of the flashlight that Tommy had dropped, which was now slowly rolling down the hall and casting wild shadows as it moved. The scaled creature reared back, its flame sac filling as it prepared to turn Tommy into a charbroiled steak.
And then a thought struck Karim. He didn’t have to kill the beast. That instinct—that voice telling him not to do it. That was just the fear talking. Karim was in charge here, not the fear.
He charged forward. The flame sac under the dragon’s chin filled more and more, glowing orange through the thinner scaling protecting it.
Karim held the sword with both hands and lunged forward. The tip of the sword pierced the sac, and a gout of flame exploded from it. The razorback howled, and Karim leaped backward as the dragon swung its head from side to side, bursts of fire sputtering from the wound in its throat.
Karim rushed to Tommy and grabbed his hand, straining as he helped the larger boy stand. Behind them, the razorback was roaring and thrashing. Stray flames lashed across Karim’s back, and he screamed as he felt blisters forming in a vicious line across his shoulders.
Ignoring the pain, he let Tommy lean on him as the two boys stumbled down the hall and into the room where Spike was waiting. She slammed the door shut behind them.
Tommy collapsed in a heap, drawing ragged and uneven breaths. Karim leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt the skin on his back change from searing pain to more of a steady throbbing.
“Took you long enough,” Spike said as she locked the door. “Can you boys get anything right?” She held up her phone.
“I hope you caught all that on camera,” Tommy said through ragged breaths. “That. Was. Unbelievable!”
He was right about one thing, at least: Karim was still having a hard time believing that any of that had happened.
Spike jumped as something struck the door. Their plan had worked. Karim’s back would have some nasty blisters, sure, but the three of them were basically intact. But this was just step one—the first of many steps that would get them out of here alive. Hopefully. And then … she wasn’t sure what then. Still, one way or another, Mike Tuckerville was going to pay for this.
“What do we do now?” Karim asked, still wincing as he peeled off his shirt and ripped it down the middle to stretch it out so that he could tie it like a bandage over his back.
One thing was for sure: Spike was not going to lose any of her clothes down here. Shopping for new ones with her mom was a battle to keep from looking like an Easter egg. Spike liked her plain black T-shirts just fine, thank you very much. And that went double when they were all pulling out their phones to record every important moment for their stream, whether their faces were blurred or not.
“So what now?” Tommy asked as he finished tying the burned shirt around Karim’s torso. “More remodeling?”
Outside, the razorback was scratching at the door, but the urgency of its pursuit seemed to be gone, and there was no heat from its flaming breath. The room shook slightly as a deep rumbling came from outside.
Spike pointed to the air vent in the ceiling. “It’s worth a shot. If we can cut our way through to the floor above and one of us can slip through to the next floor, then they can come down and open one of the doors from the other side.”
Karim nodded. “Right. We don’t need to run all over the building. We just need to go up to the floor above.”
A minute later they had stacked several boxes, and Tommy held them in place while Karim helped Spike climb on top. Spike peered up into the vent. She had just started unscrewing the vent’s cover when she noticed something dripping from it. She turned on her phone’s flashlight, then leaned out of the way as more of the green slime dripped through, almost as if reacting to her presence.
She tried to climb down but tripped, and she would have fallen hard on the concrete if her friends hadn’t grabbed her arms and helped her land with some dignity.
“What is it?” Tommy asked, but Karim was already examining the slime dripping onto the box.
“It’s sour ooze,” Karim said. “I guess we’re not getting out through the vents.”
Spike had heard about this nasty creature. In confined spaces, sour ooze was an adventurer’s worse nightmare. It was attracted to the heat of living things, and its acid touch would burn you up. It could make its way through tiny cracks in do
ors, and if you sliced it with a sword, it would just glop back together and keep coming.
The green slime oozed its way along the floor, digesting everything it came into contact with.
“Sour ooze is common in abandoned underground areas,” Karim said. “A few would-be adventurers’ bodies found in an old basement killed by ooze …”
“No one will ask too many questions,” Spike finished, a grim smile on her face. “But that’s not going to happen. Do they really think we’re going to make it so easy?”
Suddenly, a phone in the room rang.
Karim answered the phone and put it on speaker. If someone had something to say, he wanted them all to hear it.
“What do you want now, Luis?” Spike yelled behind him. “I told you to leave us alone. But you never listen to what I say at all, do you?”
Karim sighed. This was the angriest he’d ever seen her. She’d better not ruin their chances of getting out of this mess alive. Between the razorback and the ooze, he was pretty sure they were out of options. Maybe surrendering wouldn’t be the worst thing. Live on to adventure another day, right?
“Spike, I—I’m sorry,” her father said through the speaker. “I’m so sorry. I tried, I really did.”
“Should we maybe be a little nicer?” Karim whispered. “Do we really have any way to get out of here?”
Spike stared daggers at him. Or maybe it was more like she was staring swords at him, or ballista bolts. But Tommy was nodding sadly.
Just then, another voice—a familiar voice—came from the speaker. “Put him back in the limo, and make sure he doesn’t contact anyone,” the sneering voice said. “We can’t have him squealing to the police, now can we?”
Karim winced as they heard what sounded like Spike’s dad yelping in pain.
The smarmy voice came directly over the speaker. “This is Mike Tuckerville,” it said. “And don’t worry, about how nice you’re being. It’s too late now. I’m just calling to tell you that I’ve released the sour ooze. I wanted you to know before you die that you’ve lost. I gave you an option to surrender, and I never give second chances.”
