Dragon's Hope

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Dragon's Hope Page 5

by Emily Martha Sorensen


  Horrible visions exploded through her mind. There were diseases and gunshots and screaming and dying. All of his friends were killed in one day. It was so senseless, so stupid. It was the apocalypse.

  Rose came back to herself, too stunned to even cry. She’d never seen anything like that. She hoped she never would again.

  “That’s enough of that, Violet,” the hobo growled. “My memories are my own.”

  Rose stood where she was, too devastated to move. She had heard rumors about the Great War in Europe, had even known two neighbors’ sons who had been drafted and died out there. But she had never dreamed that she would be forced to experience any of it.

  Most of the other onlookers were fleeing. One mother was trying to comfort several sobbing children. One man looked like he was going to be sick.

  Violet didn’t understand why all the minds were leaving. Violet was sad. What had she done to make them so unhappy?

  Rose breathed in and out, deeply. This wasn’t what she had intended when she’d asked the other dragons to hatch. She turned to walk away.

  Oh! Violet remembered her! This was the adult who had told her to hatch! This was the grown-up who had said it was time to choose parents! That was why Violet had woken up! She was so happy!

  Rose turned around slowly. The filthy man was staring at her.

  “You were in the paper, weren’t you?” he said slowly. “You and that man. The ones with the dragon.”

  There seemed no point in denying it. “Yes,” Rose admitted.

  The man walked over and clapped his hand on her shoulder. It was all she could do to keep from flinching. “Thank you for doing that article,” he said. “Gave me the gumption to come here and talk to ’em. And now I’ve got Violet. Ain’t she a gem?”

  This close, his breath reeked.

  Are you aware that alcohol is illegal? Rose thought. And you can’t possibly be married. What will Violet do for a mother?

  Oh, Violet didn’t need a mother! Violet was perfectly fine with just her father! Violet was so happy she had found someone who understood what she had gone through!

  “Yes, you do need a mother!” Rose snapped out loud. “Do you have any idea how much work it takes to keep a baby dragon alive? I do! One person cannot possibly do it alone! It’s not physically possible!”

  The filthy man withdrew his hand, looking confused.

  Violet didn’t like her anymore! She didn’t like Violet’s father! Violet was going to take a nap.

  The hobo gave Rose and angry, suspicious look. “What did she mean, you don’t like me?”

  Rose cringed. It was embarrassing to have been caught out.

  “It’s not that I don’t like you,” she said hastily. “It’s just that . . . after all we’ve been through to keep Virgil alive these past few days, I don’t see how one parent can do it alone. I simply don’t.”

  “Oh.” The man’s expression cleared. “That’s simple enough. The museum director came to talk to me this morning, after Violet first woke up. Nice man. He’s arranged for her to be transferred to Central Park Zoo, where they’ll pay for the food and take good care of her. Good for everyone, eh?”

  Rose stared at him. She knew all the practical reasons why the zoo would work, but faced with a parent who had actually chosen that path, she was speechless.

  “Name’s Harrison,” the man said, holding out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Rose murmured, shaking his hand gingerly. She was grateful to be wearing gloves, and hoped to wash them as soon as she got back home.

  Home. Where Henry and Virgil were waiting.

  “I must go,” Rose said quickly, extricating herself. “My husband and son are expecting me. I didn’t mean to stay here so long.”

  Husband and son. The words sounded strange as she spoke them, even as she knew they were true. Her life had changed so drastically overnight, it still astonished her.

  “Go on, then,” the man said cheerfully. “Maybe we can have our babies play together later. Eh?”

  Maybe if you bathe yourself and don’t drink your entire breakfast at a speakeasy! Rose thought.

  “Perhaps,” she said politely.

  As she walked rapidly home, attempting to make up for lost time despite her exhaustion, her mind kept spinning around the filthy man and the new dragon. He seemed so clearly unsuitable to be a parent, and yet he had been chosen. Chosen and loved, despite all his obvious deficiencies.

  Perhaps, Rose thought, perhaps I am not so inadequate to the task as I have worried.

  Chapter 10: Henry

  Henry was asleep on the couch when she walked in. His hand was dangled on the floor next to Virgil’s head, and it was filled with a large clump of watery, shredded chicken. Some had dripped on the floor and scattered along the carpet.

  That seems a fairly good solution, Rose thought, setting aside the shoulder bag she had used to carry her notes and writing implements. Has Virgil been helping himself while Henry sleeps?

  As if on cue, the little dragon stirred. His front claws dug into the carpet, and he raised his head, his eyes wide open.

  Virgil wanted food now. Virgil wanted his father to wake up so that he could eat. Virgil wanted his father to wake up so that he could eat. Virgil wanted his father to wake up so that he could eat. Virgil wanted his father to wake up so that he could eat.

  Henry groaned and stirred. He sat up, his eyes still shut, and held out his hand. Their son’s scaly head darted forward.

  Apparently he has not been able to sleep while Virgil helped himself, Rose thought. A pity.

  The hatchling’s head jerked away from the food.

  Virgil’s mother was home! He hadn’t noticed! Could she feed him, too?

  “Oh, are you home?” Henry murmured. His eyelids cracked open. “Good. Does that mean I can sleep?”

  “Go ahead,” Rose said, though her eyes ached and her legs felt leaden. “I’ll feed him for awhile. Is there anything prepared?”

  “Bowl in the kitchen,” Henry muttered, staggering to his feet. “Your parents called. Read the newspaper.”

  “What did they say?” Rose asked, her heart hammering.

  Virgil was still hungry! The food was gone! Virgil wanted his food! Virgil’s mother needed to give him food!

  Henry rubbed his eyes, then stopped and stared down at the hand covered in chicken, which he had just smeared all over his face and dropped down the front of his shirt. He muttered something unintelligible that was likely profane.

  “Language,” Rose said, just in case.

  Henry looked grumpy. “Your mother said they wanted to meet the dragon. Your father said, ‘Is this real?’ One of your sisters, I’m not sure which, said, ‘Trust Rose to find a live dragon!’ Then the other said, ‘Can we get one?’ —”

  “He’s not a pet,” Rose said peevishly.

  “I’m aware,” Henry began.

  Virgil was very, very, very hungry! Virgil’s parents needed to feed him! He was going to scream!

  Rose yanked off her gloves and lunged for the chicken still on Henry’s hand. She got her hand down to the floor just as the earsplitting screech began. She waved her hand up and down frantically until the little dragon noticed.

  Virgil thought that was better. Virgil was going to eat now.

  A rough, dry tongue began to gather up bits of watery chicken from her hand, the little dragon emanating indignation.

  “What else did they say?” Rose asked.

  “Not much,” Henry said, shrugging. “I told them you went to class. Your mother didn’t believe it at first. Your sisters thought it was hilarious. Your father said, ‘Why am I not surprised?’”

  Rose took a little pride in that.

  “Speaking of which,” Henry said, “we need to come up with something to make our schedules compatible. We really do.”

  Rose swallowed. She hadn’t forgotten how angry Henry had been this morning, and she supposed he hadn’t, either.

  “I’m
sorry,” she said. “I should have thought to mention it before, but with all that happened so quickly —”

  “No,” Henry said, his jaw twitching. “Don’t apologize. I’ll just get mad all over again. I’m tired and I’m not thinking straight. Just . . . we need to think of something. That’s all. I’m not going to quit school, either. You understand?”

  Rose nodded vehemently. She would never want a husband who hadn’t finished his education.

  “I only have one class on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” she said. “It’s still early in the semester. I imagine I can drop it, or attempt to find another time it’s held between the classes I have the other three days.”

  “That’s a start,” Henry said. He yawned widely. “Got to sleep now. Good night.”

  “Good night,” Rose said, though it was midafternoon.

  He staggered off to the bedroom, leaving her alone with the dragon. Their son, the dragon.

  “Hey, Virgil?” Rose said quietly. “Thank you for choosing us.”

  A scaly face with yellow eyes looked up at her.

  Virgil was glad he’d chosen them, too. Even though they looked strange. And they didn’t feed him real food.

  Rose hesitated, because she wasn’t prone to bursts of affection, and then leaned forward and kissed the top of the tiny dragon’s head.

  Virgil paused in his eating. Why had his mother done that? There was no food on his head.

  “It’s a way that humans show affection,” Rose said. “I’m getting used to you.”

  That was good. Virgil was used to her, too. Where was more food? He had finished. Where was more food?

  Rose got up and went to the kitchen, where she found the bowl Henry had mentioned. She scooped some of the contents into her hand and walked back to the living room, where the dragon was digging into the carpet with his curved back claws.

  “You’re destroying the carpet,” Rose said. “Please stop.”

  Virgil was hungry. Virgil didn’t know what a carpet was. Where was Virgil’s food?

  She bent down and gave it to him. While the dragon was eating, she checked the thick cloth they had wrapped around his nether regions. It was, unfortunately, sopping wet.

  Once he was asleep, she got up and walked to the kitchen, where she found a replacement small towel in a bottom drawer. Then she clumsily undid the safety pins and wrapped the new towel around his bottom and the top part of his tail. She carefully fastened the safety pins back again.

  Rose breathed out a sigh of relief.

  I can do this.

  She stood up and took the disgusting, soaked towel to the kitchen, where she proceeded to wash it with soap in the sink. Then she wrung it out and hung it to dry over the top of a lower cabinet door.

  She walked back to the living room, where Virgil lay curled up with his tail around him. His snout wriggled as his curved back claws attacked the carpet.

  I can do this, Rose thought.

  She sat down, intending to start on her homework, and then Virgil raised his head and looked at her.

  He was hungry. Where was his food? He was hungry.

  I hope I can do this, Rose thought with a sigh, returning to the kitchen to get him more chicken.

  Chapter 11: Hello

  “Look at that little tail!” Rose’s mother exclaimed. “It’s so long and thin and scaly! Does he use it for balance? It seems to be so flexible. Oh, that dragon is so sweet!”

  Virgil wriggled and squirmed in a circle, trying to catch sight of it. His legs couldn’t support his weight, so all he could do was scoot around and leave claw marks in the carpet.

  Why was this person so excited about his tail? What was so special about his tail? He wanted to see.

  Rose’s father let out a snort that sounded like an attempt to disguise laughter.

  “Why does he have those things?” Louise demanded, pointing at the long, curved claw that defied the length of all the others on each of his back feet. “You should trim them. They look dangerous.”

  “I’m not going to trim them; that’s normal for his species,” Rose said. “Deinonychus means ‘terrible claw.’ That’s where the name came from.”

  “I want a pet dragon,” Sara sighed wistfully.

  “He’s not a pet,” Henry growled.

  “But there were lots of other dragon species, too, right?” Louise asked excitedly. “What if somebody found live eggs from them? Then there could be such a thing as a dragon pet!”

  Rose was highly disturbed at the idea. It was one thing to find that one species had survived, especially an intelligent one. But a dozen other dragon species . . .? The ecological niches those species had filled were now taken, and the world did not need invasive species to threaten the ones that were now living.

  Although perhaps, Rose thought, a little shaken as she followed her own line of reasoning, perhaps humans have filled the role that Deinonychus once held. Perhaps, by encouraging them to live and grow and procreate and eventually restore the species, we may be encouraging our own extinction?

  The thought was chilling. She shivered.

  Please hatch, she had asked the other eggs, and one of them had awoken. Surely the others would soon be forthcoming. What if New York City, in a few generations, would be overrun by terrible claws who wished to wipe out humanity?

  She stepped on the thought firmly. So there was danger. What of it? There was hope, as well. If it came down to it, their species could learn to coexist. Nature was vicious and cruel, but people need not be.

  For now, and for the future, she would focus on hope. Hope for her son’s future. Hope for the future of Deinonychus.

  “You know, when my wife told me she thought there might be a child in the picture,” Rose’s father broke in, “this wasn’t exactly what I envisioned.”

  Rose’s mother gave him a furious look. It was clear that this had not been a conversation she had wished repeated.

  I knew it, Rose thought, her fists tightening. I knew that was what our relations had to be thinking. I certainly hope we can disabuse them of that notion swiftly. Without, of course, mentioning the subject directly.

  There were some things that one just didn’t do. Unless one was Rose’s father, apparently.

  Henry’s face turned red. It didn’t look like he had considered the possibility of rumors at all. “S-sir,” he sputtered, “I assure you . . .”

  Rose’s father watched him squirm with evident amusement.

  “Is he healthy?” Rose’s mother broke in, rubbing the top of the dragon’s head. “Is he eating well?”

  Rose smiled at the concern in her mother’s voice. It sounded like her mother had accepted Virgil as family. “He seems to be all right, so far. We’ve added chicken fat and egg yolks to the chicken mixture, and that seems to be beneficial. He’s now sleeping an hour between feedings, rather than fifteen minutes.”

  A trend she profoundly hoped would continue. Since tomorrow would be her first day alone with Virgil, now that she had changed her schedule, she very much wanted the time to do her homework.

  Virgil’s stomach hurt. Virgil was uncomfortable.

  “Uh oh,” Henry said, diving to the floor. “You might, uh . . . want to leave now. I expect we’re going to have to clean up a mess.”

  Virgil’s stomach hurt now!

  “Understood,” Rose’s mother said hastily. “We’ll leave you to it. Virgil, it was nice to meet you and say hello.”

  Virgil’s stomach hurt! Hurt, hurt, hurt!

  Rose’s mother rushed to the door, her father following at a rapid pace. Rose’s sisters hovered in the doorway curiously to watch as Henry gathered up the baby.

  “Thank you for visiting,” Rose hinted strongly. “It’s a shame you have to leave now.”

  “Louise! Sara!” their father barked from all the way down the hallway.

  Looking reluctant, her sisters turned away.

  “I want a pet Brontosaurus,” Sara said to Louise. “Those have the best wings.”

  “It’s A
patosaurus,” Rose shouted after them, “and no, you don’t!”

  Do they have any idea how large that dragon used to be? Rose thought with exasperation, locking the door firmly after her family.

  She found Henry in the bathroom, where he had placed their son in the bathtub. The hatchling seemed less than thrilled about this.

  Virgil was sleepy. Maybe Virgil would take a nap. He needed to get out of this box now.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Henry said.

  Virgil didn’t like this box! It was white and cold and there was nothing to claw!

  “How very unfortunate,” Henry snorted.

  Virgil liked that noise. He was going to snort, too. Snort, snort, snort, snort —

  A roar of flame burst from his nostrils and reached the towel on the rack across from him.

  Henry’s mouth fell open.

  Rose leapt forward, seized the towel, and dunked it in the toilet, which doused it. She pulled it out, dripping. A huge black hole was now eaten in the once-serviceable object.

  Virgil’s stomach felt better now.

  “Well,” Rose said after a moment of silence, “at least we know when Deinonychus dragons start breathing fire. That’s been a mystery for centuries.”

  “This is going to be so much worse than potty training,” Henry groaned.

  Next Book:

  Virgil didn’t mean to sneeze and burn down the Christmas tree. But it was hot, and bright, and pretty!

  His parents, Rose and Henry, are exasperated. Raising a baby dragon is hard enough; now they have to worry about their safety.

  Can they solve this problem in time for Christmas?

  You can get it here.

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