Dragons Awakening

Zi tucked a length of her shiny black hair behind her ear and straightened the lapels on her Hugo Boss jacket. On any usual day, she would have no use for either professional attire or her father’s publicist. Today, both of them bowed to her will.

She strode toward the front of the room. A conversation to her left slowed her steps.

“Dragons? Why not an alien spaceship?”

“Then what are they?” A photographer waved his tablet toward the woman who scoffed at him. “Several digital photographs have come forward.”

“Retouched.” Zi applauded this woman’s skepticism. Silently, of course. Without looking like she eavesdropped.

The governor’s aide tapped on her arm. “Come along, Miss Oohara.”

ZI complied. As she stepped onto the platform, lights in front of the podium blinded her. The city governor flicked invisible lint from his navy blue slacks. Looking like a model for upscale menswear, the man would look good while pronouncing doom at least.

“A brief description of your vision,” the aide, a middle-aged woman, said, “then step back. Governor Giovani will field questions.”

“Of course,” Zi nodded. This woman had no clue how often Zi had attended press conferences, standing on this side of the cameras and questions. She may have only spoken at a few, but she was no novice. Her father had milked her prophetic abilities for bucket loads of free publicity. Until she refused. And yet, here she was again, staring into faces ready to exploit her premonitions.

Think of the innocents saved. It’s worth it. Finally, she would be able to do something to keep death from claiming so many lives.

Chairs packed the marble-lined room. Six rows filled with seated journalists surrounded by an equal number of standing cameramen reduced the vast space to something claustrophobia-inducing. Zi scanned the room, lacing her fingers in front of her.

Act casual. Look composed. She plotted the optimal note of urgency to display when she shared the vision. If she mentioned the red dragon behind it all, mass panic would do her job. Or they would cart her away to a psychiatric ward.

How far had facts gotten her with Akolo’s dad? Nowhere. Time to rely on prophecy. After all, she was The Visionary. The governor had listened as she relayed the vision in his office and quickly called the press conference. Publicly sharing her vision would make a difference today.

Another bank of lights brightened. Zi squinted. The sharp-dressed aide stepped up to the green marble podium. Who made a podium from marble? Italians apparently.

The governor took the woman’s place behind the lectern. With black hair slicked back and swarthy skin stubbled along the jawline, he represented sanity in a suave manner. Of course, his speech was riddled with numerous political catch-phrases: public safety must take preeminence, avoiding rash action, careful review of data. Zi counted the tiles at her feet, wondering if she could contain the eye roll twitching for release.

A tap on her arm signaled go time. Zi straightened her shoulders and positioned herself squarely behind the podium. Nothing obscured her view of the assembly. The buzz of activity ceased. Tension in faces and stiffness in postures replaced the hum of anticipation.

“As The Visionary, I am plagued with scenes of war, chaos and natural disasters. I’ve witnessed death and destruction, but nothing I’ve seen compares with what is to come.” Dragons dwarf bombs on a scale of horrifying images.

She paused, hearing the shutters of several cameras clicking repeatedly. She would not check her hair. Everything was in place. Time for her message to shine.

“Mt. Vesuvius will erupt. I have seen this. A river of fire devours everything in its path until reaching the Tyrrhenian Sea.” Mouths gaped. Zi squared her shoulders. “Vineyards and villages burned, their acrid smoke joining the cloud of ash and gas from the volcano. Disaster to rival - dare I say surpass - the burial of Pompeii approaches.” Gasps greeted her claim. “Your beautiful region perches on the edge of total annihilation.”

The woman’s short-nailed hand closed around Zi’s elbow. Stunned silence from the crowd confirmed the impact of her words. A little push to clinch the deal.

“Every vision I see becomes reality.”

“How soon?” A male voice shouted from the crowd.

“Always within a week,” Zi said, catching herself with a side-step as the governor’s aide wrenched her arm. Someone had control issues.

Zi stepped back to her original position, resuming her emotionless facade.The question of time nagged. The one-week time line was uncertain. More than two weeks had passed since she first glimpsed the destruction caused by the dragon emerging from Vesuvius. Were her abilities expanding? The change offered no comfort. Instead, it confirmed that the eruption truly was imminent. The bureaucrats didn’t have time to discuss feasibility. If people stayed near the volcano, they would die.

Hands waved as those seated vied for the governor’s attention. Zi hoped her vision would light a fire beneath the man’s feet. If not, fire of a different sort would char them beyond recognition.

“Scientists at EUSCVO concur that an eruption is only a day away, at most.” This was news. “At this time, I’m initiating a Class Three evacuation. Immediately. City police are standing by to help facilitate this order.”

“What is the blast radius?” A woman journalist shouted out her question.

The governor cleared his throat. “At this time, we require all persons residing within a 200 kilometer radius of Mt. Vesuvius’ crater to evacuate.”

The crowd gasped, inciting a new fervor of unacknowledged questions.

Two hundred kilometers seemed excessive when fifty was standard in a serious state of emergency. Would two hundred be enough?

The usual undercurrents of anxiety at the observatory no longer existed. Instead, a rip tide of panic and a tsunami of activity reigned supreme. Akolo boxed away another computer work station, glancing at the mayhem. He had to hand it to Zi Yan. That girl had cranked the political machine into motion.

Since the announcement earlier in the day, Akolo’s father wore a grim expression and spoke in clipped sentences. Anger seethed whenever he looked in Akolo’s direction. Did he really think Akolo had any control over Zi Yan? What a joke! The girl’s powerful father couldn’t even keep her in line.

Akolo side-stepped to the next monitor. More mindless packaging. His thoughts wandered to the true source of the volcanic eruption. Would Jokul and Ezerhaydn subdue the red dragon causing the chaos? Akolo sneezed, fanning the microscopic dust particles away from his face.

Imagining the chaos a dragon would wreak on the world surpassed his abilities. It had to be stopped. Akolo and Zi had reached the end of what they could do to “save the world” (her words, not his). Did the dragons a strong incentive to battle with all their might? Surely their motivations failed to match the panic rising like high tide in Akolo’s mid-section. Earth was his home. The dragons hoped to leave it behind, so why would they care about keeping collateral damage to a minimum?

A wave of chilled air pulled Akolo from his musings. Dr. Blunk and his father pushed through the doorway from the adjacent laboratory. The mussed hair signaled Dad had been running his hand across his scalp. Both of their lab coats were streaked with dirt. His skin crawled as they stared in his direction.

Akolo expected the hammer of his father’s wrath to fall before the day was over. Maybe Dad figured the discussion could wait until they were safely aboard the waiting naval vessel. Britain offered EUSCVO half a deck aboard the HMS Queen Elizabeth II. That location sat at the edge of the 200 kilometer evacuation zone, a problem for Akolo. Considering the confrontation ahead sent gymnasts tumbling through Akolo’s midsection.

Another intern sealed the packed boxes, labeling them with a black permanent marker. Akolo rubbed his temples, the sound of tape being stretched over boxes, the overwhelming smell of permanent marker only made his headache worse. Minor pain compared to the emotional storm raging in his chest.

“Only three more work stations,” he said, gesturing to the other side of Akolo.

“In this room,” Akolo said, his attempted grin feeling more like a grimace.

“Don’t remind me,” the other young man said. With a grunt, he hefted the box and carried it into the hallway where the movers would find it and pack it into the transport vehicles.

“We need to get the monitoring equipment back on line within the hour,” Akolo heard his father say. While his attention had been diverted, the pair of white-coated scientists had moved to within a few strides of where he worked.

Akolo bundled up another computer station, sidling down the row. When a heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder, Akolo coiled yet another cord.

“We’re going with the next helo transport,” his father said.

“How much more needs to be packed?” Akolo looked around the disheveled room, avoiding his father’s gaze.

“Maybe another two hours’ worth,” Dr. Blunk said from beside his father. She was checking her handheld device, barely glancing up to add her comment.

“You’re coming with me,” his father said. “Now.”

Akolo’s stomach dropped to his feet. According to the dragons, Akolo needed to stay nearby. If their assault failed for some reason, they wanted him to connect his mind to the red dragon’s. Acid burned the back of his throat at the prospect. As much as he hated to defy his father, he knew he had no choice in this situation.

“Actually, I’m staying back,” he said, his voice swallowed by the crash of something heavy hitting the floor.

Dr. Blunk turned and followed the sound. His father stared at him.

“What did you say?” It wasn’t an angry question. Maybe he didn’t hear.

Akolo clenched his hands into fists, wadding the cloth in his sweaty palm.

“I’m staying back with Zi.”

“No.” His father’s cheeks flushed. “You’re coming with me.”

Akolo swallowed hard. How could he convince his father he needed to stay?

“I have to stay, Dad. She might need my help.”

His father pursed his lips, making the skin around them turn white.“It’s too dangerous. She’s the one who convinced the governor that the volcano could erupt any minute. Why isn’t she following his orders?”

Ice water offered less frigidity than his father’s tone. Zi Yan’s intention to remain behind was an unauthorized interference. Her media circus ignited more than controlled panic. At the moment, his father’s seething over the issue could keep Akolo from remaining close enough to communicate with the dragons.

“We’re staying north of the evacuation zone,” Akolo said. Would Zi Yan follow instructions and stay 200 kilometers from the volcano? Doubtful. But he wasn’t telling Dad that. Zi Yan and Akolo needed to be close enough to Vesuvius to contact the dragons. In case they needed help. What a snort-worthy thought! How could two teenagers intercede where immortal warriors failed?

“You’ll come with me. The transport leaves in,” he checked the device on his wrist, “twelve minutes.”

Akolo turned toward the next computer, unplugging the cord and winding it. The motions, so habitual, required no thought.

“Don’t turn your back on me, Akolo.”

Akolo dropped the cord in the open box on the chair. He opened his clenched hand. The cloth survived his death grip with surprisingly few wrinkles. He wiped it across the screen.

“Do you hear me?”

“I heard you, Dad,” Akolo said, sliding the dust-free device into its crate.

“Let’s go. Now.” Since when did his dad get a backbone of steel? But isn’t that what Akolo had wanted since his mother’s death?

Akolo swallowed the nasty taste rising in his throat. Facing his father, he sucked air.

“Did you hear me, Dad?”

“Don’t take a tone with me, Akolo. You are my son and will do what I say.”

Addressing the tone was his mother’s favorite diversionary tactic during arguments. Akolo wondered if his father realized he was mimicking her. Probably not. Judging by the twitching muscle in Dad’s jaw, a melt down was imminent.

“I don’t mean to take a tone,” Akolo emphasized the repeated phrase. “I’m just being clear about my intentions.”

“Your intentions don’t matter. Your safety does.” His father gripped Akolo’s elbow. Was he going to drag him onto the transport?

Akolo shrugged the hand away. His surfer build outmatched his father’s scholarly frame. Especially since the man had subsisted on mostly alcohol until they left Hawaii. When he recalled his father’s emaciated state, Akolo’s determination waned. Saving his father was the reason they were here, and now Akolo was abandoning him?

“I have to stay, Dad.” Akolo tried to heap regret into his voice. His shoulders sagged. Dad couldn’t think he wanted to remain in the blast zone.

“You have to do what I say. Now.” His father’s hand clamped around Akolo’s upper arm.

Akolo followed on his father’s heels. His shin knocked against a chair near the door. Fire raced through his bones and centered his thoughts.

The grip on his arm tightened and relaxed as they rushed down the glaring halls. They passed only a few white-coated people, moving in the opposite direction. None of them paid attention to their departure. His father was huffing by the time they neared the exit to the upper parking lot. Crates lined the hallway but it was empty of personnel, making it perfect for their confrontation, since Akolo had no intention of demeaning his father in front of his colleagues.

Dad halted, relaxing his grip, beside a slightly askew door. A military-grade truck roared to life beyond it, shaking the floor beneath their feet. Please, let it be the truck and not a pre-eruption tremor.

Akolo yanked his arm from his father’s grasp, planting himself in a wide stance.

When his father faced him, Akolo nealy lost his resolve. The crumpled expression screamed grief. His heart pounded against his breastbone. Indecision wrestled with determination.

His father said in a hoarse voice, “You’re all I have left, Oho. I can’t lose you, too. Not when I’m finding myself.”

Akolo hesitated. Years of longing for honest discussion of his mother’s death could be fulfilled. Perfectly poor timing, Dad. Standing on the brink of an evacuation was hardly an opportune moment for a heart-to-heart.

“Dad, you aren’t going to lose me.” A twinge gripped his stomach. Did he just lie to his father? He couldn’t guarantee his safety. No one could.

“If I would have taken that trip to Alaska instead of staying back to present my paper-” His father’s face dropped into his hands and his shoulders shuddered.

Akolo reached out, patting his father on the back. His face burned. Showing affection to his father felt awkward. What was wrong with him? And what did his father mean about the trip to Alaska?

“Dad, are you saying you were supposed to go to Alaska rather than Mom?”

The bowed head nodded.

“So you think that makes it your fault she died.” Akolo’s chest constricted. All his father’s self-abuse suddenly made sense. It was more than grief. Dad blamed himself because the virus had been contracted in Alaska. His mother wasn’t supposed to be in Alaska, but she had obviously offered to go in his father’s place. So he could present their theory. Probably to a bunch of rich people who might fund their research.

His father looked up, eyes red in an otherwise composed face. “I can never make up for what happened to your mother. But I can protect you.”

Akolo gripped his father’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Dad. Mom did what she did - support your research. No one forced her to go to Alaska.”

“If I hadn’t cared so much about that research -”

“Stop it!” Akolo’s hands trembled. This feeble line of reasoning had nearly destroyed his father and what remained of their family. Akolo seized his father’s shoulders and shook him. “Mom cared about proving your theory. Her death was not your fault.”

Hope surged in his father’s eyes. Did he believe? Akolo would make him believe.

A buzz and loud click severed the moment. Dr. Blunk emerged from the seismology laboratory at the other end of the hallway. Akolo watched his father’s gaze stray toward the woman, the light of interest plain on his face. It was an expression long extinguished. Dr. Blunk return his father’s wavering smile. A spark of attraction?

“The last three crates of receivers will accompany us on the transport,” Dr. Blunk said, still a few steps away.

“Good.” His father stiffened his spine. “Hopefully the navy will have trained personnel available to reconnect them in short order.”

Dr. Blunk glanced between the two men. Akolo let his hands drop.

Trembling walls accompanied the whooping sounds of a helicopter landing outside. His father reached for Akolo’s arm again, but Akolo stepped back.

“Sorry, Dad,” he said.”I’m staying. There’s something here only I can do.”

He tried to send a private message using his telepathy. Nothing. Human thoughts slipped out of his mental grasp, and Akolo could never hold onto them long enough to plant a suggestion. How did the dragons manage telepathy so easily?

“Wait,” Dr. Blunk said. Akolo shuffled backward, putting a few feet between himself and the scientists.

“I wish I could tell you why.” He stared at his father. The intensity sent his left eye into a twitching fit. “ I have stay, Dad.”

“I’m not trying to stop you.” Dr. Blunk’s declaration caused his father to gawp like a hungry fish.

Akolo shared his stunned reaction, although he hoped he managed to keep his face neutral. Dr. Blunk reached into her lab coat pocket and pulled out an old-fashioned communication device. She checked the strange dial at the top of it before extending it toward Akolo. A single antenna wobbled.

“This is a satellite receiver, similar to the volcanic monitors. If you flip this switch,” she demonstrated, “it can be used to communicate with this one.” She twisted her wrist to reveal an identical radio in her other hand.

A heartbeat passed. Akolo took a half step toward her and leaned the rest of the way, hand outstretched.

“Your father will have the other one,” she said, pocketing it. “We’ll turn it on once the eruption happens, expecting you to check-in. Let us know you’re safe.”

Akolo nodded, backpedaling. The satellite communicator sagged in his hand, even though it wasn’t much bigger than his palm.

His father stepped toward him. Dr. Blunk slid between them and held up her arm, blocking his path. Another look passed between the adults, and the fire drained from his father’s features.

“Stay away from that volcano,” his father said, voice gruff.

“I’ll take care of myself.” Akolo refused to make a promise he might not keep. “You better go so you can track any changes.”

Agony flitted over his father’s face. Akolo clenched his back teeth, steeling himself against the tears burning his nose and throat. His father slammed through the door and was swallowed by the glare of light and cacophony of sound.

“I don’t know what’s really going on with you and that girl,” Dr. Blunk said, raising her voice and leaning toward him. “But I expect you to stay in contact with your father.”

Akolo bristled at the woman’s accusatory. Who did she think she was anyway? Certainly no one with authority over him. After he nodded, the doctor exited.

The helicopter revved, clacking loud enough to shake the building. Then it faded. A hush fell over the hallway. Even without accompaniment, Akolo’s internal organs continued their un-choreographed dance.

Time to connect with Zi Yan. Another meeting he wasn’t anticipating.