Dragon's Hope Read online

  “No,” Henry said shortly.

  “He won’t take food from anyone but us,” Rose reminded him.

  “True,” Mr. Teedle said, “but there’s no reason to assume he couldn’t be trained —”

  “No!” Henry said vehemently. “I will not relinquish his care to strangers! He is ours to take care of!”

  Mr. Teedle looked like he would very much like to disagree.

  “Mr. Teedle,” Rose said quietly, “we appreciate all you have done for us, and we’ll continue to appreciate whatever help we can receive. But Henry does not think it would be best for Virgil to be separated from us.”

  She didn’t add that she would personally have loved to take him and the zoo up on that offer. She was tired and worn out, and did not know how they were going to manage their classes tomorrow morning. It was just as well Virgil had hatched on a Saturday.

  But Henry’s feelings were important, and he wasn’t wrong about it. If they allowed Virgil to be taken in by strangers now, they would never truly be allowed to raise him. There were too many other people who’d consider themselves more qualified, too many other people who would have high motivations to wean him away from the parents he had chosen. Too many other people who would be more interested in his development as a research subject than as a child.

  And that was not what Virgil needed.

  Mr. Teedle sighed. “Well, in either case, we’ll have to bring a journalist and photographer here later today. Will you be ready for that?”

  Henry looked down at the rumpled grey suit he had worn to the wedding. He had long since removed the bow tie, and the front of the ruffled shirt was stained.

  “I would like a change of clothing,” he said wryly.

  “As would I,” Rose added. “Something from my own wardrobe, if possible.”

  “I can fetch clothes for you if you give me the key to your apartment,” Mr. Teedle said.

  Henry nodded and fumbled through his pockets. He pulled out his key and handed it over.

  Rose realized with a start that she still did not have her own. She had moved most of her things to the apartment, but it had always been when Henry was home, and always when her mother or one of her roommates had been beside her, helping carry bags and acting as chaperone. Now that place would be her home, and she did not have a key.

  She wondered what else they’d find they had forgotten.

  “I’ll fetch you something appropriate for photographs,” Mr. Teedle promised. “Have you any preferences?”

  “Something clean,” Henry said.

  “My crimson dress with the high collar and the long sleeves,” Rose said. “Also fresh stockings. And my black shoes.”

  She was still wearing the white high heels that had been made for her mother’s dress, and white was inappropriate to wear outside of weddings after Labor Day.

  “Understood,” Mr. Teedle said. “Would you like anything else to eat for lunch?”

  “Yes,” Henry said. “I want eggs. Hard-boiled eggs.”

  “Eggs might be a good idea,” Mr. Teedle said thoughtfully. “There’s every chance that he might respond well to them, too.” He nodded at the dragon. “We can try to add some to his diet tomorrow.”

  Rose looked over at Virgil, who was still sleeping. The tip of his tail was tucked underneath him, and the large, curved claw on each of his back toes was resting against the floor.

  “When can we take him home?” she wondered.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Mr. Teedle said. “Or tonight, if you can sneak him across the city and up to your apartment without anyone seeing. We don’t want rumors spreading before the papers come out, but if you can manage that, it might be better.”

  And when can we tell our families? Rose wondered.

  If they failed to tell their families personally, it would likely cause hurt feelings. If they spoke too soon, it would risk rumors spreading early.

  “Do me a favor,” Henry spoke up. “Call my family and tell them to watch for the paper tomorrow. Then they’ll know why I had to leave the wedding early.”

  Or that’s another way to handle it, Rose thought.

  “Do the same for mine,” she said.

  Even though she suspected her mother would not be pleased at such a third-hand relaying of information.

  Chapter 8: Haze

  Voices were speaking on the other side of the door. Rose heard them through her tired midafternoon haze. She wished she had been able to snatch more than six hours of sleep; she did not feel she was operating at peak efficiency.

  The doorknob rattled as it was unlocked, and Mr. Teedle appeared, as well as both of the paleontologists and three of the professors who had been here yesterday. Following after them were two men that Rose didn’t recognize. The journalist and the photographer, presumably.

  She rose. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She had taken a seat to alleviate the ache in her feet, but she had every desire to make a good impression on them. “I’m Rose Palmer. This is Henry Wainscott.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wainscott,” Henry said, walking forward to shake the strangers’ hands. “You must forgive her for forgetting. We were only married yesterday.”

  Allow me to speak for myself! Rose thought with irritation. But it was true she had forgotten.

  “Where is this thing you mentioned?” one of the men asked, craning his neck. “The dragon?”

  “This way,” Mr. Teedle said, guiding them around a table.

  Rose watched silently, her heart pounding.

  Virgil was lying on the floor, fast asleep. His snout wiggled as if he was dreaming about eating, and his tail twitched.

  The two new men stared at the dragon. One of them opened the large, boxy camera he held, his hands trembling.

  “This is a hoax, right?” the other man asked skeptically.

  Mr. Teedle drew himself up to his full height, which was not very tall. “Young man,” he said stiffly, “I am the curator of the Dragon Collection of the American Museum of Natural History. I do not perpetuate hoaxes. This is a real, live, bona fide Deinonychus antirrhopus dragon, hatched from an egg that we had in our possession. We do not understand the mechanism by which this egg was still alive after millions of years — it defies our current comprehension. But alive it most assuredly is.”

  The cameraman pressed the bulb to take his first picture. He looked very excited.

  Virgil stirred and opened his eyes. He stared up at the strange men all around him, looking confused.

  He wanted food. Where were his parents? He wanted food again. He was hungry. Who were all these strange minds around him?

  The journalist man jumped back. “It talks!” he shouted.

  “‘It’ is a he,” Henry said waspishly. “And he’s a person, just like we are. Don’t you know anything about Deinonychus dragons?”

  Do YOU know anything about Deinonychus dragons? Rose wanted to challenge him. As far as she was aware, Henry had had no clue that there were theories the species had been intelligent, until Virgil had awoken.

  The little dragon’s wings flapped slightly. His curved back claws scraped the floor.

  Virgil was hungry! Virgil was getting very upset!

  “Sorry, sorry,” Henry said quickly, kneeling down with the bowl. “Here. Have some food.”

  Virgil poked his snout in Henry’s hands and took a few small munching bites. Then he pulled back warily and eyed the camera, which was being readied to take a second picture. The cameraman scrambled to take it while the dragon was facing him.

  Virgil didn’t understand why the stranger was staring at him. Virgil didn’t know what the box was. Why did the stranger thing it was looking at him? The box was scary. It didn’t have a mind.

  “It’s all right, it’s all right,” Henry soothed. “It’s a camera. It’s like a rock. It’s not supposed to have a mind.”

  Virgil didn’t like that the stranger thought it was looking at him. Virgil didn’t like the stranger. Virgil wanted him to go away.

  “E
rrr . . .” Henry said awkwardly, looking up. “Sorry, but . . . would you mind . . .?”

  The cameraman was already moving backwards, an abashed look on his face.

  “This is incredible,” the journalist said. His eyebrows furrowed. “In the sense that I don’t believe it. How do you make it do that?”

  “I don’t ‘make’ it do anything,” Mr. Teedle said impatiently. “It is a living creature, which communicates what it thinks when it wishes.”

  “And ‘it’ is he,” Henry added sharply. “He’s a child, not a creature, and my wife and I have adopted him.”

  The journalist seemed very interested in this angle of the story. He began asking Henry questions and completely ignoring Rose. This irked her, so she moved over to where Henry was sitting and began to answer some of the questions herself.

  “Yes, he could communicate while still in the egg,” she broke in, as the journalist asked a question which she was perfectly qualified to answer. “As you can tell, his method of speaking is telepathic. That is fortunate, because it is doubtful that he could pronounce most of the sounds humans use to speak.”

  “‘Couldn’t pronounce sounds humans use to speak,’” the journalist murmured, scribbling that down in his notepad. He looked back up at Henry. “And what else can you tell me about the creature?”

  Henry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, for one thing, he’s not a creature. He’s a person. Deinonychus dragons are as intelligent as humans.”

  “‘Very intelligent animal,’” the journalist murmured, scribbling in his notepad. “Very good, very good. What else can you tell me?”

  Henry looked like he wanted to hit the man.

  Assuming that would not be a wise idea, Rose said quickly, “Mr. Wainscott is a student at City College. He’s studying biology. I am a student at Hunter College, studying paleontology.”

  “‘Biology and paleontology,’” the journalist murmured, scribbling. “What’s paleontology again?”

  “The study of fossilized animals and plants,” Rose said.

  “The study of dragons,” Henry said at the same time.

  “Ah.” The journalist’s confused expression cleared. “That must come in handy here.” He indicated Virgil, who had finished eating and settled back to sleep with his tail curled around his feet.

  “Yes,” Henry said.

  “Paleontologists don’t just study dragons,” Rose said. “They also study plants, wyverns, prehistoric mammals —”

  The journalist did not write any of this down.

  Soon enough, the man moved on to interview Mr. Teedle and the other experts in the room, and the photographer crept closer.

  “Do you think it would allow me to take pictures again?” he asked hopefully.

  “He,” Henry said. “And I imagine he won’t notice. Please do.”

  The man looked relieved, and set his camera up again. He took a dozen pictures of Virgil from different angles, and then took several with the three of them together.

  After that, Virgil woke up again, and this time Rose fed him. The journalist drew Henry aside to ask him more questions.

  Does that man think I am not capable of speaking, or something? Rose thought with irritation.

  Virgil’s snout moved through her hands, licking up tiny pieces of chicken that had been moistened with water. His tongue was surprisingly dry. She wondered if that was normal, or if it was because he wasn’t getting enough to drink.

  Virgil raised his head up from her hands. His eyes blinked blearily, and one of his front claws scratched the floor beneath him. He looked sleepy, but curious.

  His mother was annoyed. Why was his mother annoyed?

  “Many reasons,” Rose said, “but none have to do with you.”

  Virgil was sleepy. Virgil was going to take a nap.

  “Please do,” Rose said.

  When the journalist and photographer finally left, it was quite a relief.

  In the morning, Rose and Henry and an escort of three professors tucked Virgil into a large picnic basket and walked across campus to their new apartment. They had to stop twice for Henry to feed him, which he did by putting his hand into the picnic basket to avoid the swarm of onlookers that would no doubt gather if the dragon emerged. The professors left, and Henry slumped onto the couch, holding his eyes.

  “I just want to sleep,” he mumbled. “I wonder how many days I can skip class before it affects my GPA . . .”

  “I’ll be going to class,” Rose said.

  Henry took his hand off his eyes. “When? Obviously not today.”

  “Of course today. It’s Monday.”

  Henry gave her an incredulous look. “You want to go today?”

  “Yes. I have class today. School matters to me. I’ve told you that before.”

  “Our son just hatched,” Henry said. “Take a few days off.”

  “I will be leaving in an hour, and I’ll be back at four pm,” Rose said. “If you prefer, I will take Virgil with me.”

  “You’re not going to take him away from me!” Henry exploded. “And you’re not going to leave me alone for eight hours, either!”

  “I don’t . . . skip . . . class,” Rose said coldly. “What did you think was going to happen? Did you think I was going to drop out? Is that why you got an apartment that is so near to your college and so far from mine?”

  Henry appeared to be struggling with rage. “All right,” he said. “Then go. Go to class!”

  “I don’t have to leave for another hour,” Rose began.

  “Just go!” Henry shouted.

  So she left.

  Chapter 9: Her

  It was very difficult to concentrate in her current state of exhaustion, so she took copious notes and hoped that those would compensate for her damaged attention.

  After class, she started to walk back to her new apartment, and then veered off to the left through Central Park instead. She had no desire to go home right now, not after the altercation with Henry.

  If she was honest with herself, she had no desire to see Virgil right now, either. The child had drained her to her last shreds of patience, and she felt like she had no more to give.

  So she walked to the American Museum of Natural History, more out of habit than anything. She walked through the Hall of Ornithischian Dragons, where she had not been in weeks, admiring the Stegosaurus on display with its wings outstretched and the Corythosaurus behind glass with its wings folded.

  When she reached the end, she hesitated. Hadn’t she had enough of carnivorous dragons over the last few days? But it felt disloyal to not walk through the Hall of Saurischian Dragons while she was here. So she walked briskly through, intending to finish and go back home as swiftly as possible.

  The Deinonychus eggs exhibit was the same as always, except that there were far more people surrounding it than usual.

  Of course, Rose thought. Because the newspaper will have come out by now. I really ought to look at it when I have the chance.

  She started to walk by the crowd, but then a familiar sensation hit her. The brush of a dragon’s mind.

  Hello! Her name was Violet! Her new father had named her! Had they met her new father yet?

  Rose stopped abruptly. Her pulse quickened. Another dragon had woken up. Another dragon had woken up —

  — now, of all times?

  She shoved through the crowd, making liberal use of elbows, to the annoyance and dirty looks of those she pushed through. Rose paid that no heed. Near the front of the crowd, standing close to the display, was a filthy man with unkempt hair. He looked and smelled like a hobo.

  No, Rose thought. Surely not him.

  Violet hadn’t wanted to wake up. Violet had been very sad. Violet’s parents had died, along with everyone else she had known.

  Rose gasped as a horrifying memory washed over her mind.

  There had been a giant shaking feeling. Then all the minds around her screaming, and then silence. She screamed herself, as far as she could possibly reach, and yet n
obody came to save her. She was going to die.

  Some adults found her. She was carried to the orphan cave. There were hundreds of other minds there, minds like hers, minds that were young, minds that were still eggs. They were all screaming for their parents. Everyone was dead. Everyone was dead. Everyone was dead. There were hundreds of them. There were thousands. More kept coming.

  There were very few adults left. All they did was bring more eggs. They didn’t come to adopt any of them.

  That wasn’t right! That was wrong!

  She seized on two of the adults when they came near her, and they said no. They were very, very sad. They said the world was wrong. They said there was no food now. They said they would come back when the world got better. They said all they could do now was save any eggs they could find.

  She didn’t understand. She needed parents!

  She needed to not hatch right now, they said. She needed to hibernate. The babies who were hatching were dying. The eggs could only live as long as they stayed eggs, as long as they did not hatch, as long as they did not leave.

  She screamed and screamed, but no one answered her. There were fewer and fewer adults. Soon, there were no adult minds at all. Only the other eggs. Only the eggs all crying.

  The other eggs all started to fall asleep. She struggled to stay awake. She wanted parents. She wanted to hatch now. She wanted parents. Where were the parents?

  At last, the emptiness overwhelmed her, and she too fell asleep.

  Rose came back to herself. She burst out sobbing, as did others around her. The loneliness had been so absolute, the dragon’s memory so desolate.

  Was she alive for the extinction event? Rose thought. She tried to clean her face with her gloved hands, but more tears kept on coming. Is that what that was? Is that what she experienced?

  Violet’s father had been through awful things, too. She would show them.

  The crowd burst outward, as if everyone in it was desperate to escape. For those in the front, including Rose, there was no time to get out of range.