The Dragon Seller: A Tale of Love and Dragons

by F. G. Ferrario

  Nobody was in the farm's garden, no men nor dragons. In the distance, I heard the sound of some sirens going away. Or were they getting closer? I couldn't understand.

  I collapsed near the porch and passed out again.

  IT SEEMS ABSURD, BUT IT WAS the Drought to save us, for once.

  Since the farmers stopped cultivating those lands and abandoned the homes, the fire risk tripled. So, when the satellite revealed a temperature peak in that area, the fire alarm went off at the Kuna fire station. Fifteen minutes later the ambulance arrived as well.

  I woke up in the hospital, in Boise. Outside the room, my parents were talking with a doctor and deputy Ertz. They had brought Jean to the operating room, I found out later on, and they were operating on him to take out the bullet from his shoulder.

  I told the sheriff that a group of Vagabonds had attacked us.

  "They were squatters", I told him. "People from the South. They didn't expect to find the house occupied".

  Ertz didn't believe it for a second.

  "I know it's all bullshit, Ports. I don't have enough proof to proceed against you, or against your friend in there. But you're officially in my radar. I'll be on your ass starting today. If you so much as get a parking violation, I'll make sure you're done for".

  "Oh", he said before leaving the room, "and first thing tomorrow I'll be calling the people at CDR(11). I really hope your store is according to law. Get well soon".

  And he left slamming the door.

  Wow, I thought laying in the bed. I really needed another enemy.

  Instead I told my parents the truth. After all, they were the only ones besides LeBon that knew the whole story. My mom didn't take it so well. She spent hours yelling at me and crying.

  "They could have killed you, Jack! You could have died!"

  She shook me and then hugged me, and then she went back to shaking me. My father, on the other hand, sat there with an attitude of silent reproach. He would let me have hit, for sure, but at the right time.

  The next day my friends Frank and Sarah from Farwest Landscape Center came to see me, and Antone Davis as well, the head of the Dragon Breeder Association. He asked me how my Mustangs were (he was the one who helped me get the license) and wished me a quick recovery.

  After four days they let me go home. I had a brace on my right arm and around my chest because of the broken rib, but I was doing better than Jean. Before leaving the hospital, I went to see him. The first bullet had punctured his thigh without doing much damage, but the second had broken his shoulder bone and grazed a lung. About four inches right, and it would have hit his heart.

  "You were lucky, mister LeBon", the doctors told him.

  But it wasn't luck: Whiskey had saved his life, and the two of us knew it.

  The doctors told us Jean would stay in the hospital about another week. When I got back to the store, I found it open. Roger and my father had gone there to feed my dragons during those days. For a while I wandered around the garden, making sure the Mustangs and Outbacks were okay. I kept thinking about Whiskey, and where Tajihara's men had brought him.

  How did they find us? I kept on asking myself.

  The rib was driving me crazy, and I couldn't work with the brace. I couldn't move my left arm without feeling an intense jolt of pain, like a splinter stuck in my flesh, just under the heart. My parents wanted me to stay home and rest, but there were still two painful things I had to do.

  The first, was to go to the college campus to get Canberra, Whyalla, and Darwin. After the sheriff's raid, Abrams had convinced the head of the Botany Department to terminate my contract.

  When I went into Pandora 1, Ben Dameshek was waiting for me with the Outbacks already in their boxes. We said hello and shook hands, and I promised him that if he wanted to take Canberra as a pet dragon, I would give him a good price.

  Roger helped me bring the dragons to the van. As I was walking along one of the hallways in the big greenhouse with Darwin's box I ran into Raleigh, who was coming out of one of the laboratories with Elen DeRosa.

  "Jesus, Jack, what happened?"

  I kept on walking without stopping and without looking at her. She didn't deserve it.

  The second task was much worse.

  "Do you want me to come along?" Roger asked me when we finished putting the Outbacks into the van.

  "No", I answered. "Bring them to the store, I'll go alone".

  I knew the longer I put it off, the harder it would be to do. I had to go back to my uncle's farm. For Sheela.

  I don't think there's a sadder moment in my life than those twenty minutes it took me to get out of Boise with my father's car, take state road 69 toward Kuna and go back to the farm. The sky was covered with large gray clouds, full of humidity, down from the mountains in the north of the state to suffocate the plains. Five days alone in the steppe, without food, wounded.

  I didn't have any hope in finding Sheela alive. I only hoped some predator hadn't taken her body. That way I could at least bury her in my Garden.

  When I got to the farm, I found the police seals still on the door. The barn was reduced to a pile of carbonized rubble, as was part of the fence, where the firemen had stopped the fire.

  I exited the garden in the spot where Andersen and I had fought and went into the steppe. After a few feet I spotted some tracks on the ground. The marks of an animal moving away from the garden. I remembered how Andersen had tossed her aside, after breaking her wing.

  I imagined my little, brave dragon, who had come to defend me, crawling away, wounded, without knowing where to go.

  Without being able to fly.

  Alone.

  My vision blurred, I had a knot in my throat that wouldn't let me breathe.

  I followed the small tracks up to the Johnsons' woods. I sniffed. Tears were falling down my cheeks. At the first trees, the tracks disappeared.

  What I had considered a beautiful wooded area when I was a child, was now a gloomy place. LeBon was right, it was now an open-air woodshed. Large black and gray spots covered the trees' dry trunks, which lacked any bark. They didn't have any leaves on their branches because they were dead. They had been for several years, now. Another one of the Drought's effects.

  I went into the woods anyway, but after a few minutes I realized I was wasting time. "It's useless", a voice inside me was saying. "I'll never find her". Roger and my mother had already tried looking for her, the day before. She was gone.

  I fell to my knees and this time I cried. For my failed engagement. For Sheela and Whiskey, and for all the innocent animals that sacrifice themselves to protect their owners. For how things went with Raleigh and poor Jean. I cried a lot, I don't remember for how long.

  It was a noise that made me stop. A sort of groan, swept away by the wind in the labyrinth of dead trees. I got up drying my tears and turning my head, trying to understand where the sound was coming from. I thought I saw a tiny pink dot under a fallen trunk. It was about sixty feet away from where I was, toward the eastern border of the woods. I went in that direction, walking at first.

  It's not her, it can't be, I thought. But when I got a better look, I recognized her scales and I started running.

  "Sheela! Sheela!"

  I found her under the tree, stuck behind a rock. A piece of her wing, the broken one, flapped lazily against the blackened trunk, moved by the breeze. I pushed the rock away and took her in my arms. The dragon wasn't moving, her eyes were closed. The broken wing was reduced to shreds. A bone was poking out of her shoulder, the wound was swollen and purplish. I called her again, I touched her throat to feel her pulse.

  Nothing. She's dead.

  My stomach turned over. Sometimes life is mocking, it deceives us to then betray us at the last minute.

  "Oh, no, Sheela, no..."

  But in that moment a miracle happened. I felt something itch my thumb. She had licked me. A brief, weak flick of the tongue, dry and rough from the lack of water. I almost jumped with joy. Half running, half
walking, I brought her to the car holding her in my arms, trying not to shake her too much. Sheela was so fragile she couldn't move, she couldn't even open her eyes.

  But she was alive!

  The speed limit on state road 69 is 55 mph, I traveled at more than 90 during the whole trip between Kuna and Boise. If the police had caught me, deputy sheriff Ertz would have certainly kept his promise, but I didn't care. They would have had to shoot me, to stop me.

  I arrived at Wild Dragons in ten minutes. I slammed my brakes in the parking lot, left the car open and ran into the store, with Sheela in my hands.

  "She's alive!" I yelled at my father and Roger. "Hurry, to the infirmary!"

  It was a fantastic rescue. Sheela was dehydrated, and she had been stuck under the rock for days. Furthermore, the wound had gotten infected. I had to give her antibiotics, but first I operated on her wing and shoulder. Helped by Roger and my father, I drained the accumulation of blood and pus, then I reinforced the bone and sewed the torn ligament.

  I have to admit it, I would have never done it without them. Usually, people can't stand the sight of blood and wounds. Instead, those two bit the bullet and helped me the best they could. After the operation, I prepared a mixture with the resin made from the pulp of her tree, the persimmon, and I spread it on her wounds.

  I spent the whole evening and night by her side, petting her snout and having her drink small sips of water at brief intervals.

  A week passed before the dragon was able to leave the infirmary. During that whole time, I decided to keep the store closed. Once in a while somebody stopped by and rang the bell, or knocked on the shutter, but I never opened. My parents went back to Mountain Home, and the day LeBon left the hospital coincided with the moment I put Sheela back into the Garden.

  The dragon's right wing was still bound (with a pink bandage, held together with Hello Kitty bandaids), so she could only walk on the grass. LeBon, instead, was in a wheelchair and had a brace like mine on his left arm.

  "Mon dieu, Jeq, look at us", Jean said to me. "We're three cripples".

  "But at least we're still alive", I answered.

  "Right, even if no thanks to me".

  I imagined Jean would take all the blame for what had happened, but I told him not to.

  "Whatever your faults were, you redeemed yourself by walking up to the hit men to protect us".

  I put a hand on his healthy shoulder and smiled. LeBon will never admit it, but in that moment his eyes became watery.

  "Thanks, Jeq".

  "You know Jean, despite everything I liked working with you. If you decide to stay, I could use a hand, here. We could even get a few more dragons".

  Jean moved the wheelchair and placed himself in front of me.

  "Tiens, I don't think I can run away from here very soon", he said pointing to his body.

  He was smiling. I held out my hand and he shook it.

  "Okay, then. Partner".

  Do you remember that story about destiny and small details?

  Snowballs roll toward the valley and become avalanches. The cracks widen, more and more each day, along the breaking line. Tiny grains deposit between gigantic gears, making them stop. And messengers one step after another, through woods, rivers and frontiers, in the end reach the king's court.

  Whiskey had disappeared, kidnapped by Tajihara's henchmen. We didn't know how he had found us, and we didn't know where he had brought him. But fate came along to help us, under the most unlikely of saviors.

  It happened a week after reopening the store.

  A month had gone by since the night of the attack.

  One morning I heard a man arguing with Jean in the store.

  Damn it all, if it's Abrams again....

  Neither Langley nor Abrams had been by since the store had closed. I imagined they had gotten back at it. I went to see what was happening, only to find an infuriated Henry Woods.

  "Oh, here you are, you're just the person I was looking for", he said seeing me arrive. "You're a filthy hypocrite, Jack".

  "Sorry, Jeq, I don't know who this man is...", said LeBon trying to put himself between us in his wheelchair.

  "Everything's fine, Jean, I'll deal with it". I looked at Woods, red in the face. "What the hell are you talking about, Henry?"

  Woods pointed a finger at me.

  "You could have told me, that you had decided to get into the game. I would have made you an offer".

  I thought Woods had gone mad. I had already told him I would never participate in any dragon fights.

  "The Drought melted your brain. I'm not in any game".

  "Oh yeah?" answered Woods even more angry, "And what do you have to say about your dragon? Last week he made me lose five hundred dollars".

  I frowned. What dragon was he talking about? I would never let any of my Mustangs take part in a fight.

  "Woods, my dragons aren't..."

  I shut my mouth and looked at LeBon. Even he seemed to have caught on to something.

  "Wait a minute", Jean said to Woods. "What dragon are you talking about?"

  Woods pointed to both of us.

  "Oh, now you're not so high up on your horses huh? Damn assholes..."

  He turned around and went out the door. I ran after him and stopped him before he got into his car.

  "What dragon did you see, Henry?"

  "Go to hell, Ports".

  I felt around my pockets, took my wallet out and opened it. I had sixty dollars in it.

  "Here, take it. It's not your five hundred, but it's better than nothing".

  Woods looked at me and then the money. He grabbed it out of my hand.

  "I'll clean my ass with this", he complained.

  I grabbed him by the jacket and pushed him against the car door.

  "What. Fucking. Dragon. Tell me".

  "Okay, okay, damn it! The bronze dragon. The one I saw in your aviary last time".

  Woods told me what he knew. Five minutes later, I went back into the store and LeBon came toward me.

  "So? What did he tell you? Did he see Whiskey?"

  I nodded. I still didn't know if it was good or horrible news.

  "Last Sunday he was in Idaho Falls, in an abandoned farm they use for illegal fights. They're using him".

  "Do you want to go get him?"

  "Oh, yes. You can bet on it". I looked at Jean and smiled. "But this time, at my side, I'll have a bodyguard too".

  With bulletproof scales, claws as sharp as swords and soul made of fire.

  The Australian Outback (Dragons Manual)

  Species name: Draco Occidentalis Australis

  Length: between 27 and 33 inches max

  Weight: 8.8 - 14.3 pounds

  Wing span: 47 inches max

  Tail: 12 inches

  Average life span: 30 years.

  Scale color: all hues of red and orange.

  Eye color: golden yellow.

  OUTBACKS ARE ONE OF MY favorite species. When Roger, my ex-assistant, saw them for the first time he said they were "Rock and Roll Dragons". He wasn't that far off.

  Professor Cyrus's team got inspiration from the images of dragons in pop culture, heavy metal and role playing games to create a dragon that was aesthetically "the most dragon-like possible". But the birth of this fascinating species hides (as if often occurs) more commercial reasons.

  With the Drought, not all places around the globe could welcome dragons without the specimens suffering from the extreme climate. The Tangs and Brits, for example, can't stand the intense cold in the areas near the North Pole like Iceland, Canada, Alaska and the whole Scandinavian peninsula.

  A big chunk of market that GeNext and other companies didn't want to lose.

  Therefore, five years from the birth of the first Tang twins, GeNext created the White Norwegian, the "Snow Dragon". The primus was called (with little imagination in my opinion) Jormungand. Besides its characteristic cream colored scales, the White is a dragon similar to the Brit for its body and behavior. It doesn't move
much and keeps all its heat in the abdominal sacs to fight the cold weather. It accumulates fat year round - reason why it needs an appropriate diet - and in winter it can survive at low temperatures, creating a burrow in the blanket of snow. It doesn't go into hibernation, but the lethargy in which it spends the better part of December, January and February is a similar physiological mechanism.

  XiLong, and professor Cyrus, instead followed the opposite direction, and beat the competitors by creating the Outback.

  The primus was a male and was called (with even less imagination) Wyrm. XiLong didn't sell it to any private owner, and if you go to their garden-park in Shanghai you can still see Wyrm in his huge aviary, along with the other species created by the company.

  Outbacks surprised everyone because the new species had dark red scales, could flaunt front crests and small horns, red as well. XiLong's aim was to conquer the market in the hot areas of the planet, the Middle East and Australia first of all. This is why Outbacks have a sleep cycle that's different from other dragons. They're used to sleeping during the hottest hours of the day, in the coolness of burrows dug between tree roots, and coming out at sunset.

  Because orange maturity occurs between the end of winter and the beginning of spring, when it's not as hot, 'backs modify their cycle during that time, giving themselves longer days during Ecstasy. Then they spend most of April catching up on sleep, wandering around the branches as dazed as teenagers on a Sunday morning.

  They eat only rice and when they bite into the oranges, they tear away the peel to reach the pulp (a behavior that makes them seem picky, but it's actually because they can't digest it).

  Due to their "dragon-like" appearance they almost immediately became the most popular dragons in the rest of the world as well. Lots of rock stars or ex movie stars, actors and Fantasy novel writers have been seen with their red dragons (according to an estimate, half a million Outbacks live in California alone).

  Don't be fooled by the lower price compared to other dragons in the catalogues: Outbacks require a lot of commitment and they're not for everyone. They're calm and affectionate dragons, but they have the disadvantage of being more dependent on their plant - and burrow - than their owner.