A character that originated in the magical mythology of a planet many light years away lie before him. Something only found in storybooks was sharing the only shade in sight. He was looking at a real live dragon.
****
The creature was almost motionless and curled up in a small hollow taking slow, determined breaths. It was clearly struggling for life, and no longer conscious of its surroundings.
Al found the situation a little ironic, and thought to himself; I travel all this way in search of a place to escape the terror of dinosaurs, and the only life I can find is a mini-dragon?
He approached the creature slowly and carefully, kneeling down beside it, he poured a little water from his canteen into the cup of his hand and held the liquid before its mouth. He saw the nostrils constrict as the animal smelled the water, and ever so slowly he raised his head and lapped at the water presented him. It only managed a few sips before he laid his head back down, but Al was patient, and soon the head came back up, and the dry tongue dipped into the cool water.
The sun was reaching its peak, and the shade disappearing, so Al used the small tarp from his pack to erect a sun block. The poor creature was too weak to be moved right away. Besides, Al needed time to think of a way out of this mess, so he settled down and cared for the dragon. He could not abandon the only possible ally he had.
He made camp, of sorts. From his backpack, he removed a travel package of superfood made by his wife and daughter-in-law, a small fold-up table, and a cup. Not knowing what a dragon’s temperature should be, he covered the creature with a light towel to keep the sand off.
Later, as the sun sank towards the horizon, Al broke a small bit from the bar of highly nutritious concoction conceived by the women and placed it close to the dragon’s mouth. The nostrils again reacted to the smell of salvation and the eye that faced him opened to reveal a surprisingly blue iris, and a look of sincere gratitude.
He didn’t want to move the creature yet, so he left it with water in the cup, and pieces of the food bar nearby. Then Al headed back to the hole in the sand for a quick look to see what it would take to get back inside the alien facility.
****
Al’s legs were capable of propelling him thirty feet into the air, and returning him to the ground safely, so he saw no problem in jumping into the stalled lift. But first, he had to prevent the ever-shifting sands from filling the elevator. There was now a pile four feet high covering the bottom of the elevator, and the only way back into the underground outpost was through that floor.
He retrieved the hatch from where it landed and used it to pull the sand back from the opening. When burial was no longer an immediate threat, he jumped down into the car.
There was no easy way to get past the steel floor of the lift, but Al had something with him that could help. Inside his pack were two small mining charges he brought for occasions such as this. He took one out and set it for thirty seconds, placed it as far down into the pile of sand that he could, and jumped back out into the failing sunlight. Another small jump put him at a safe distance.
Twenty-five seconds later the explosion shook the ground and a fireball shot from the hole in the sand. After the ground had settled, Al walked back and peered over the edge. Debris from the floor of the car lay at the bottom of a fifty-foot shaft. Twenty feet further than what was safe to jump.
A climbing rope was one of the things he didn’t have in his pack. He hadn’t thought one necessary. Now he regretted his lack of foresight. The only other option would be to climb part of the way down and jump to the bottom. Once there, he needed to find something he could use to lower the sick dragon down. The creature was in a delicate state and needed to be handled carefully until the poor thing could recover. Al decided he could not ignore its plight.
The sun was going down, and he didn’t want to leave the animal alone for very long, so he used the hatch to block the hole from the shifting sand. He looked for something to mark the spot with, afraid the sand would wipe away its location, but found nothing. He would just have to remember.
Al made the trip back to the lonely tree and his patient within minutes. The power coursing through his body and the clarity of mind and senses acting as a drug, and for the thousandth time he wished the power stored in the energy cell inside his chest did not limit his time as a superhuman.
The sun was low in the sky, and the shadows of the dunes were getting long, bringing out various dips and craters unnoticeable while the sun was overhead. As Al approached the black sand of the mound, he noticed an unusual outline not far from where the little dragon rested.
His patient had eaten half of the food he left for it and splashed water outside the cup, indicating a strong will to survive. The dragon was now still, with his eyes closed and its breathing regular. Sleep was helping the healing process.
A quick investigation of the odd outline confirmed his fears. Buried not far under the sand was the body of a reptile similar to the struggling dragon. It appeared that a larger creature had placed it in the only shelter available, and lost its life in the process. A mother or father perhaps. The poor little dragon was alone.
Al settled down for the night and treated himself to a cup of tea. The tea leaves were from the gardens of Camelot, which lay in ruins after the last Riktor attack. When the colonists were forced to abandon the village, they left behind many of the things that made life comfortable.
For dinner, he had a small chemically heated can of stew. He sat in the sand with his back against the tree, and the sleeping dragon by his side, and consumed his meager dinner. The blinding sun sank to nothing and allowed the stars to come out.
In time, he unfolded his sleeping bag and lay down for a few hours rest. Before he fell asleep, a name came to mind for his newfound dependent. He would call him Falkor. It was a title from some vague memory of his past. For some reason, it felt right.
****
He was up and moving before the sun came up. Al packed his gear, made Falkor as comfortable as possible, and hurried back to the hatch, which was already partially covered by the pervasive drifting sand.
Al Clark is not indestructible. The Tru-Skin covering of his body is organic, and can be damaged. He discovered his true nature when his friend, Doctor Cody, performed a medical scan after an injury to one of his legs. Al was as surprised as his friend when they saw the interior workings of his body displayed on a medical scanner’s monitor.
Carefully, he cleared the opening and removed the metal hatch.
Halfway down was a small opening, but no ledge; only a hole in the shaft that would be tricky to get to, but not impossible. He had never landed from a height of more than thirty feet and was not sure his legs could take the full fifty-foot fall, so he opted for the lesser risk of hitting the landing.
Thinking it through, he placed himself across from his target and jumped. He ducked when he landed and used his forward momentum to roll head over heels into the tunnel. Not a graceful landing, but effective.
It was a short tunnel, with a ladder going up to what Al assumed was another buried hatch. Possibly an escape route in case the outer doors were unable to open. Or maybe for service of the lift. It did not matter. He put the thought aside and jumped the remaining distance to the floor of the facility’s upper level.
He was not exactly sure how he would get out, but he put that thought aside to worry about later. He went looking for a way to get both Falkor and himself to a place of safety. Someplace away from the numbing heat and blazing sun.
There were mysteries to this place. Secrets. Something monstrous had happened here, and whatever it was caused the residents to flee in a hurry.
In the hangar bay, he found something that would help. In a bin blackened by what had happened, and covered in dust, he discovered a coil of rope. More of a line than a rope, it was a thin cord made of a material that had somehow survived the passage of time.
Al wasted no time pondering his luck and went back to make the jumps necessary to
return him to the surface. He lay the coil at the bottom of the shaft and tied one end around his waist. He almost failed on his first attempt by misjudging his landing. The sandy edge of the tunnel made his feet slip, and he fell backward; clawing at empty space.
To his surprise, some system within his body kicked in and automatically corrected his position, and he fell forward into the tunnel. Al was shocked, and thought, That was new! It seems I have self-righting circuits that give me the reflexes of a cat.
Falling backward is scary, and it took Al a few moments to adjust to the idea that he had landed without injury. His incredible body had surprised him again and allowed him to perform another feat normally unthinkable for human beings.
After accomplishing the second jump to the top, he found himself bathed in the sunlight of another blistering day. He untied the line from his waist and secured it to one of the hinges of the broken hatch. With the rope in place, he was ready to move his camp underground. Now it was time to return to the dead tree and collect the dragon.
He fashioned a crude basket from the tarp using short pieces of cord from his pack and placed the creature inside. It did not resist. Too sick to fight, the poor thing had no alternative other than trusting this unlikely savior.
He carried it in his arms and kept his speed down to avoid jostling his passenger, running in a form of controlled slow motion. As soon as he arrived at the hole, he pulled the line up and tied the basket to the end. Slowly, he lowered the dragon down to the bottom and then climbed down himself.
Now he needed to establish a place for them to prepare for their next move, which came down to a few fundamental decisions; stay where he was and gather more data, or attempt the transport to the secondary site. The stretch of the desert he saw could be an oddity, and on the other side of the sand dunes might be the perfect place to settle. On the other hand, this desert could go on forever.
He could not ask the survivors of Camelot to trek to a more habitable location across a scalding desert. The size of the teleporters would limit what they could bring with them, and when they left Avalon, they would be leaving behind most of their modern conveniences, including transportation. No more shuttle crafts or four-wheel buggies. They would be doing their traveling on foot.
The more appealing option was another trip in the teleporter to the secondary address, and see what the universe held for him. But, to explore that option he needed to be in two places at one time.
Falkor was already showing signs of recovery. When Al came to move him to the outpost, his head came up, and he forced a squeak from his mouth.
“It’s alright little guy, we’re going to a place where you can get better,” said Al.
Now his eyes matched his green skin, and within them was a look of understanding. The little dragon did not try to escape the basket and surveyed his surroundings with curiosity as Al carried him to one of the sleeping cubicles.
The smoky screen that typically served as a door to the room was gone, the power necessary unavailable. The loss of the protective screen would help the dragon from feeling confined, and would allow it to come and go as it pleased. It was a good place to stay until they left.
Al pulled the bedclothes off and dusted as best he could, laid his jacket down, and made a place for the dragon to rest. When he lay him down, he got a lick on his hand. Falkor was starting to feel better, and Al was encouraged.
He left the half-full cup of water and pieces of the food bar within reach and went out exploring the ancient outpost.
****
He searched primarily for food and water and found what he expected—nothing. Everywhere he looked there were signs of a sudden departure. Plates and bowls still sat on the dinner tables. Residue rings inside glasses, left by long evaporated liquids waiting for the owner’s return.
He tried all the food replicators and was not surprised to find them silent and unusable. The tiny robots that were designed to maintain the facility had stopped cleaning and repairing decades ago, which explained a lot of the station’s condition.
There were hundreds of the square one-inch data cubes in the library, but he could not access the database without power to the readers.
It’s probably in a language I can’t understand, he reasoned, trying not to feel overly concerned about the lost opportunity. In the slot of one reader, he found a cube that was still in the machine. It was the only unit that was loaded and it appeared to have been in use when the power went out. He removed it and stuffed it into his pocket. When he got back to Overlook Mountain, maybe the computer could translate its contents and tell him what happened here.
That’s right Al, keep planning for the future.
He found an odd looking pistol that he assumed was a type of laser weapon; the power source long since drained. It was inside a small maintenance room, laying on the floor as if dropped there.
Al felt there was a story here. Something unexpected and horrible.
Three days passed, and Falkor was feeling well enough to begin investigating his surroundings. With his wings folded across his back, he gingerly explored the sleeping room, watching Al the whole time to see how he reacted. When Al saw this, he figured it was time they left. The dragon was out of danger.
There was only one logical conclusion for him to make. Against the advice of Doctor Cody, his roboticist Edward Florida, and his wife, Al would have to attempt something he was not sure would work.
When he came here, he noticed a two-second delay between the time Edward pushed the transport button and his disappearance. He hoped to use that time to make his escape. His plan was to press the button, run like crazy, and dive into the transport chamber. If he were unsuccessful, Falkor would go without him to a strange new world. There was also the added concern that he did not know how the teleportation would affect him in his enhanced state.
The dragon seemed eager to leave, and when Al placed him inside the door of the cube, he curled up in the corner out of the way as if he knew what was coming.
Al programmed the secondary coordinates into the console and took one last look around. This world was a place better left to the ghosts. He touched the button and ran.
Chapter Three
The boy looked both ways when he reached the door and then silently entered the church; carefully closing it behind him. He was surprised the door was unlocked and relieved. It was late, and he was not supposed to be here, but he needed his jacket.
The weekly worship service had ended hours ago, and almost all had gone home. He knew that King Agenor lived somewhere in the palace, along with the enlightened ones that served him, but his hope was they were occupied elsewhere.
The boy did not risk turning the lights on and pulled from his pocket a small, powerful light he received only a week ago for his twelfth birthday. It was a miraculous device his father must have paid dearly for, and the best present he could remember.
He had no idea how the silver tube worked. He only knew that when he pressed the soft button at its end, a tiny sun would shine out the other. It was a magical gift that would now assist him in his quest. He brushed the golden-brown hair from his eyes and concentrated on his goal. What he wanted more than anything was to get in as quietly as possible, find his jacket, and get out.
Dusty Forman had been here many times, but never in the dark, and although he was taller than his peers, and usually managed to act older, this visit was more than a little frightening. He hurried towards the front of the theater where he and his father had been sitting and began the search for his misplaced coat. The beam from the light flashed back and forth, looking for a patch of pale blue in the sea of red seats. He could not see it.
Panic rose, and he thought, It is not here!
He swung the light around, his eyes wide as the circle of light pried into the dark recesses surrounding him. When the beam turned in the direction of the clear box in the center of the room and exposed the inside of the sacred glass chamber, it stopped. Dusty froze; shocked to see a man sleep
ing on the floor inside the box. In the corner, watching him intently, sat a miniature dragon.
The jacket was forgotten. The impulse to flee took over, and Dusty left the temple in a hurry; running as fast as possible to tell his Father. “Father, a stranger sleeps inside the sacred chamber—and with him is a dragon!”
****
He received some raised eyebrows when he told his story, and the look of disbelief was unmistakable on his father’s face.
“Truly father, I am not lying. They are there.”
His father had little reason to believe his son would lie, but what he said was hard to accept. “Do you know what you are saying? There is no way into the sacred chamber. No one has ever been inside.”
“Please, Father—hurry—come see!”
“What you say is impossible. There are no dragons except in fairy tales. Do you feel all right?”
Darius Forman had worked all day at his blacksmith shop and then spent two hours at church. He was tired. Darius watched his son’s face for a moment, and then gave in. It was not like Dusty to beg for anything, but it was apparent he would not stop until his father accompanied his son and reassured him that his mind was playing tricks on him.
He doused the fire he started for their supper, locked the door, and allowed his son to pull him to the Temple of Enlightenment.
Dusty’s father was a common man, with common sense, that did not believe all the teachings that spouted from the pulpit of the Temple. Still, he was uncomfortable being in this holy place after hours. He, like his son, wanted to get in and out quickly. It was a building of miracles and mysteries, and the old writings contained many strange stories about the things that have occurred here.
Darius was shorter than Al, but of a wiry build, with a thick mop of auburn hair and hazel eyes. He looked both ways at the door as his son had done, and they snuck inside. Using the flashlight to light their way down to the bottom of the amphitheater, they approached the glass chamber and found Al sitting up, looking dazed. There was no sign of a dragon.
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