A Boy and His Dragon

by Michael J. Bowler

  Lead the way, Bradley Wallace Murphy, and I shall follow, entered his mind, the only real proof of Whilly’s continued presence. Loud, crunching footsteps followed the boy outside into the bright, warm sunshine and Bradley Wallace led the way up out of the Gully. It would be a long time before he returned there.

  To attain the high, sloping hills wherein the water tower was located, they had to pass through much of the neighborhood. And since it was Saturday afternoon (and a beautiful one at that), many people were out and about, tending their front lawns, barbecuing, or just chatting. Even though he knew Whilly was invisible, Bradley Wallace couldn’t shake the apprehensive fear that one of these neighbors would somehow spot the dragon anyway. Fortunately, he saw no sign of the Nobles, and hurried quickly past their house, shuddering involuntarily at the sight of that infamous hedge. Other people smiled or waved good-naturedly and returned to their various pursuits, giving not the slightest indication they suspected the Murphy boy wasn’t simply on his way to a friend’s house - alone.

  Rounding one block, Bradley Wallace veered off to the left and trudged slowly up a steep road leading into the rolling brown hills. He couldn’t stop turning around (force-of habit, he supposed) to make certain Whilly was still following, even though he couldn’t see the dragon anyway. At least he could feel his friend, which seemed to him to be more important in the long run, and that gave him comfort.

  Bradley Wallace continued to sweat under the warm sun, hurrying as unobtrusively (his word of the day) as possible up the declivitous slope to where the road doubled back around and down past several more houses. But he turned in the opposite direction, off the pavement and onto a well-worn path leading up into the knee high brown grass and gnarly shrubs of the rolling hills. Aside from the Gully, these hills were the closest Bradley Wallace had ever come to real wilderness, and he loved tramping through them, gazing up into the scattered trees, exploring ditches and streams, peeking underneath logs for salamanders, even poking sticks down dark and mysterious holes to see what manner of creature might pop out.

  Today he kept his curiosity in check, and did not loiter for such aimless pursuits, instead pushing on toward his goal. Higher and higher he climbed.

  Fortunately, the rounded, gentle slope of these hills was not difficult to traverse, not as hard, even, as many of the gradient streets in San Francisco, which were murder on the legs. So lost had he become in his musings (the hills always seemed to set his mind and imagination adrift) that he suddenly realized they’d arrived at their destination.

  Marred by age and disuse, the deteriorating water tank sat atop stilt-like legs looking like a black widow spider waiting to pounce on and devour any unsuspecting male of the species that might happen to pass beneath. The tower had never been officially condemned, just abandoned long before Bradley Wallace’s generation came into being, and had been virtually forgotten by everyone but the neighborhood kids.

  They loved to recount the ghastly tale of young Roger Wilkins, who, “one dark, stormy night” some years before, on a dare, climbed the rickety wooden steps encircling the side of the tower and attempted to crawl inside through the hatchway on top. But his foot had gotten caught on one rain-slick slat and he toppled through the opening to strike the solid, empty bottom with a hollow, metallic clang, snapping his neck like a toothpick. Of course, no one had ever admitted to having dared Roger, and his devastated family had since moved out of the neighborhood. But it’d been rumored that on black, rain-swept nights, Roger’s vengeful ghost still haunted the water tower, awaiting the chance to lure the “darers” to their own doom.

  Bradley Wallace halted at the foot of the twisting staircase to catch his breath, turning to look back down at the houses so far away. They almost looked liked the little plastic structures he used to have with his train set. Yeah, this was perfect. No one ever came here, and no one could see them except snakes and birds and a few gophers. And maybe Roger.

  He turned to where he felt the dragon’s presence and called out, “Okay, Whilly, you can reappear now!”

  The dragon popped in immediately, so close to Bradley Wallace that the boy jumped back in surprise. He’d misjudged his “feeling” somewhat.

  You don’t have to yell, Bradley Wallace Murphy. I’m right here.

  “I can see that,” the boy acknowledged, removing his hand from his palpitating heart. “And you like calling me by my whole name, don’t you?”

  It is a good name, the dragon projected.

  “Thanks. But don’t you think it would be easier just to call me Bradley Wallace and leave off the Murphy part?”

  He wasn’t all that crazy about his first name, either, but supposed it to be better than “Hey, you.”

  Whilly eyed him curiously. Why don’t you like your name?

  Bradley Wallace threw up his arms in dismay. “Forget it.” He turned to the water tower with a sweeping gesture. “So, how do you like your new home?”

  Whilly gazed up at the massive, looming tank with its rusting green exterior, and then down at the tiny houses so far away. His crimson eyes narrowed under their bony ridges.

  It is far from you, he lamented, settling his gaze on the boy beside him.

  “That’s the whole point,” Bradley Wallace explained as patiently as he could. “Now we don’t have to worry about being seen all the time. And it’s not really that far.”

  The dragon dropped into a thoughtful, hesitant silence while Bradley Wallace gazed at the dragon in awe. This was the first time he’d seen Whilly in the sunlight and man, was he impressive. The crimson scales blazed bright and shimmery in the afternoon sun and the vermeil eyes glowed like mirror balls. The boy momentarily felt at a loss for words.

  “Wow, Whilly, “ he finally stammered. “You look beautiful in the sun.”

  I do? Whilly realized he’d never seen himself.

  The boy nodded, still awestruck. “I’ll bring you a mirror next time. C’mon,” the excited child went on, feeling his friend’s somber mood and determined to lift it, “I’ll show you how to get in and out.”

  He started rapidly up the tottery old steps, taking them two at a time. He’d played up here often enough to know that while the steps might groan and screech and wobble, they were secure enough not to pull loose from the tower. Whilly sat on his haunches and merely watched as Bradley Wallace continued his ascent oblivious to the fact that he was not being followed. Nearing the top, the boy turned with a wide grin, which faded into a frown as he spotted the dragon crouched unmoving at the foot of the stairs, looking like one of those stone lions he’d seen in front of some boring old museum in San Francisco.

  “Whilly,” he shouted down in barely concealed annoyance, “I haven’t got all day. C’mon!”

  The simple words I can’t entered his mind.

  “What do you mean, you can’t?” Bradley Wallace repeated sharply, sounding more like his father than he liked.

  I am too big to climb these stairs, Bradley Wallace Murphy, Whilly explained calmly. I won’t fit.

  The boy suddenly realized, with growing fear, that the dragon spoke the truth. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He’d blown it again. There was simply no way a creature Whilly’s size could navigate such narrow stairs. Resignedly, he began his descent. Now what? Somehow he had to get the dragon to the top in order to get him inside. And then it hit him.

  “Okay,” he began hurrying down to the dragon’s side with a mischievous grin plastered loosely across his face. “If you can’t climb to the top, you’ll just have to fly.”

  Whilly stepped back uncertainly. But I don’t know how.

  Bradley Wallace tried to imitate Mr. O’Conner’s confident, reassuring tone. “I’m going to teach you, remember?”

  Are you sure you can? came the distrustful query.

  “No,” Bradley Wallace admitted truthfully, knowing the dragon would read his mind if he tried to lie. “But I’m sure gonna try.”

  He paused a moment, absently rubbing his chin in unconscious imitatio
n of Mr. O’Conner, considering how best to approach this problem. “Let me see,” he mumbled aloud, “How should we begin?”

  He thought over everything he knew about flying. The first thing always seemed to be the launching, and then the wings came into play. Perhaps they should start there. Whilly peered at him closely.

  “Well,” the boy began, “Superman always runs and leaps into the air, like this.” He bounced forward a la George Reeves and jumped, but naturally didn’t rise more than a couple of feet above the ground. He was a lousy jumper, anyway, which made him especially bad at basketball. He returned to the bewildered dragon. “Got the idea?”

  Who is this human who can fly, this Superman? Bradley Wallace felt the dragon’s astonishment, obviously thinking images of Superman in his mind were real. His impatience started to leak out like water from a cracked aquarium. If only Whilly wouldn’t ask so many dumb questions! “I thought you knew everything in my mind!” he snapped, too harshly, he knew.

  Whilly stepped back a few paces and regarded the boy soberly, apparently hurt by Bradley Wallace’s choleric tone of voice. I have access to everything in your mind, young human, but that doesn’t mean everything in your mind comes with an explanation. There is much you take for granted and therefore it has no meaning for one who has not experienced it.

  Properly chastised, Bradley Wallace looked away in shame. Why was he always so touchy these days? He apologized to Whilly and calmly explained that Superman is a comic book hero who can fly.

  Then, by way of a more realistic example of flight, he pointed out a pitch-black bird gliding overhead. Probably another pesky crow, he noted with distaste.

  “See how it flies, Whilly?” he encouraged the dragon eagerly. “It just sort of floats on the air, I think, letting the wind do most of the work. At least, that’s what I’d do if I was a bird.” Whilly’s thought transmissions reeked of skepticism, like a small child being taught how to swim. “Of course,” the boy continued honestly, “you might have to practice awhile before you get that smooth. What I’d do is just run and jump, and start flapping your wings like crazy. It’ll work.”

  Apparently deciding to trust his human friend, who had, after all, lived somewhat longer than him, the dragon lumbered away from the spindly legs of the water tower and crouched down on all fours, preparing to run.

  The boy tramped over the dry grass to a safe position behind his friend and urged the dragon to “Go for it. Don’t even think, just do it.” And Whilly did. The bulky, but amazingly nimble, creature launched itself across the sloping hillside with surprising speed, wings beating frantically, and simply jumped into the air.

  But unlike the earthbound child, Whilly kept going. Leathery wings flapping wildly, legs kicking out in all directions, the dragon rose haphazardly higher and higher into the beautiful blue sky.

  “You’re doing it!” Bradley Wallace shouted encouragingly, brimming with excitement, “You’re flying!”

  The dragon was unsteady and awkward and shaky, but he was flying! And somehow he managed to remain aloft, gradually gaining some measure of confidence. The frenetic beating of his wings settled into an evenly paced flutter, and Whilly began to feel the wind currents streaming around and past him, and let them do their share of the work. Suddenly natural instinct took over, as though clicking into place after having been temporarily dislodged, and it all seemed so easy. He was a dragon, and dragons flew. It was like second nature to them. So why, then, Whilly wondered, had he required the help of a wingless human child, and a temperamental one at that?

  There were so many unanswered questions running circles through his young, but growing, mind. Perhaps time would provide him with those answers. For now, he was flying, soaring high above the earth toward the wispy clouds drifting aimlessly in his direction, and reveling in the purest sense of freedom imaginable.

  It was truly unfortunate, he realized, that the boy so far below would never know such exhilaration. Humans must forever remain earthbound, he knew. Or would they?

  The thought of some future time when dragons and humans could fly through the heavens together stimulated Whilly’s fertile imagination. It was a nice thought.

  His dragonish flights of fancy were suddenly interrupted by Bradley Wallace’s excited request to return. Realizing the boy must feel left out down there, Whilly banked a smooth, even turn and began his descent, momentarily alighting deftly atop the aged water tower with the ease and grace of an eagle.

  Bradley Wallace sprinted wildly up the stairs, music box held carefully in one hand, percolating with unsuppressed excitement. “You sure learn fast!” he exclaimed upon reaching the dragon on top. “Gosh, you sure looked beautiful up there!”

  Thank you, Whilly responded politely. It was easy. The boy gazed in awe at the lithe, scaly, shimmering creature, who seemed almost to coruscate with a newfound brilliance. Perhaps it was due to the success of flying. But whatever the reason, Whilly seemed to draw energy directly from the sun itself, and Bradley Wallace could feel the dragon’s strength and potency, as well as a buoyant percipience he’d never experienced before. The dragon eyed him as though with altered perceptions, and the boy felt somewhat on display.

  “Well,” he said awkwardly, “You sure made it to the top, all right.”

  I don’t know why, but I couldn’t have done this without you, Whilly responded, and Bradley Wallace could see the myriad questions raging through that dragon-mind like a rushing river. A dragon should know how to fly, and I did not. Perhaps there is something missing in me.

  Bradley Wallace stepped out onto the hot, metal roof and moved closer to the thoughtful creature. “But remember, you didn’t have your mother around to show you stuff like that. Everyone has to learn, you said so yourself.”

  Perhaps, came the dubious reply.

  “Anyway,” the boy went on in the hopes of changing the subject, “You’re up here now and there’s the trap door to the inside.”

  He led the way to the massive rectangular trap door at the far side of the tank. The door, cut into the metallic lid, was fully ten feet long and six deep.

  A large, steel ring on the trap door provided the only method of hoisting the ponderously heavy door to an open position, but only, the boy noted with dismay, if you had a crane handy. Another little problem he’d overlooked. He’d forgotten that the trap door had been closed and sealed after Roger’s death. Geez, he was really blowing it.

  Rubbing a hand distractedly through his breeze-ruffled hair, Bradley Wallace stared at the impossible trap door with disgust and a growing sense of abject futility. “Now what do I do?” he mumbled aloud to himself. “I forgot this thing needs a Man of Steel to open it. Whilly, I don’t know what—“

  He turned to his friend, and stopped in mid-sentence. The dragon was gazing hypnotically past Bradley Wallace, his vermillion eyes riveted to the unwieldy metal door.

  “Whilly?” the boy spoke hesitantly, barely a whisper, somehow understanding that the dragon was attempting something new. He approached gingerly, practically without sound, but Whilly’s intense, fixated gaze never faltered. His mesmerized eyes never left that trap door, and his mind felt chillingly empty. The dragon’s concentration was complete. But what was he doing?

  A wrenching screech caused Bradley Wallace to whirl around in fright. He gaped, slack-jawed and astonished at the imposing trap door. It was opening! Without anyone even touching it! He whipped his head around again to Whilly, and suddenly realized the dragon was willing that door open through sheer concentration and, no doubt, a healthy dose of previously untapped power.

  The boy watched, his mouth hanging open like a waiting Venus Fly Trap, as almost in slow motion the heavy metallic rectangle lifted up, up, up, until it hovered, poised at ninety degrees to the top of the tank, for what seemed like an eternity, before dropping over backwards with a resounding, deafening clang that jarred Bradley Wallace out of his rigid stupefaction.

  He released the deep breath he’d been holding in, and turned to r
egard his friend with something almost akin to reverence. The glazed, fixated look receded from the dragon’s glowing red eyes, the physical ossification of its great body slipped back into normal lithe muscularity, and its mind opened once more to the boy’s mental scrutiny.

  “Wow!” was all the astonished Bradley Wallace could utter, stepping hesitantly to the gaping rectangular hatchway and peering down into the penetrating blackness below. He looked back at Whilly and shook his muddled head in disbelief.

  “What other tricks have you got up your scales?” he joked, grinning broadly, but feeling a slight tickle of nervousness creep up his spine. Whilly was far more powerful than he had ever imagined. Could that present a future problem, he wondered?

  I suspect there is much yet for me to learn about being a dragon, Whilly replied, the thought transmissions sluggish and weakened by his debilitating exertion.

  “You’re sure learning stuff fast,” the dumbfounded boy exclaimed, whistling in admiration. He could feel the dragon’s numbing fatigue creeping into his own limbs, and was thus not surprised when Whilly expressed the desire for sleep. “I don’t blame you,” Bradley Wallace nodded sympathetically, fighting off his own encroaching somnolence. “That must’ve taken an awful lot of . . . something.”

  He studied the drowsy dragon carefully, seeking with his own probing percipience the inner source of Whilly’s awesome power, but unable to see anything more than the being itself. The dragon, himself, must be the power, he concluded, and projected in his own mind images of dragonish feats of phantasmagorical proportions when Whilly attained his full growth and strength.

  The lethargic dragon lumbered heavily to the open maw and flipped his snake-like neck around to regard the yawning child.

  Bradley Wallace waved him on into the hole, indicating his watch with a turn of his wrist. “It’s time for me to meet Mr. O’Conner anyway.”