Chapter the 10th
Michael felt so feverish when he first woke up that he feared he would have to call Scott and ask him to do the paper route. He wouldn’t like that on a Saturday morning. But the fire inside him gave him the energy to get out of bed while the rest of his house was sleeping in. Outside, it was a chilly and damp morning, just perfect for delivering papers. If Michael were not so tired, he would have wondered why his bag was so heavy after he loaded it up at the paper station. His having tossed his dragon book into the bag to keep it safe from his brother did not seem to account for the weight.
As he delivered one paper after another, all Michael could think of was his right knee. At bedtime the night before, he discovered golden scales growing there as well. To Michael’s surprise, the scales made walking through his route easier rather than harder. His shoulders ached from the weight of the bag but that did not seem to slow him down.
Michael remembered having stayed up late reading what pages in the book weren’t stuck together from the soaking it got in the fish tank. Although his head was swimming badly enough the night before, Michael thought he was taking everything in at the time but, this morning, he seemed unable to remember anything at all of what he had read. He vaguely something to the effect that some dragon births happen in the strangest ways and there was no telling what new ways dragons might devise for getting themselves born. But if the book said anything about a dragon growing inside of a human, he didn’t remember it.
When he approached Fr. Clement's house next to the church, Michael knew he should only have three more papers to deliver, but his bag was still full. Something had to be wrong. Michael put the bag down. He looked at the sign with its little crest and the caption: The Episcopal Church Welcomes You and wondered if they really would welcome somebody like him. Cars were parked all round the small church. It seemed that there was some sort of service every morning for people who had nothing else to do but go to church, even on a Saturday would normal people would be sleeping or out having fun.
Michael picked up a wad of newspapers and quickly leafed through them. They were all Milton Gazettes with their headlines announcing the summit meeting among the superpowers and the latest in unemployment statistics. All Michael could think of just then was that he had gotten a double portion of the paper. Did that mean another carrier didn't have any papers at all? Michael asked himself. That was somebody else's problem. After dropping off Father Clement's paper and delivering another one next door, only Mrs. Lear's house remained on his route.
"Hi Michael."
The girl he saw before with Mrs. Lear, the girl he had pushed on the swing in Carelin, was sitting on the front porch with her arms wrapped around the stone lion as if it were a favorite pet.
“Well, hello to you,” said Michael.
Michael straightened himself, trying not to let on that he was shaking like a leaf or that his head was feeling more feverish than ever.
The girl looked up at Michael as if he were an uncle who would give her anything she wanted.
“Are you the one who delivers the newspaper?" asked the girl.
"Yea."
Michael tossed the paper onto her lap. The girl looked it over with consuming interest, her eyes growing wide with excitement.
"Oh dear!" she cried. "How awful!"
"Yea, I know," said Michael as he started to walk away. "News is always awful."
“By poor brother!”
“Something happen to him?”
“It sure did! Will he ever have a story to tell if he gets out of this alive! I wonder if he’s upset that he isn’t safe with me here, or if I should be upset that I’m missing out on this adventure!”
“Flip a coin and take you choice,” Michael suggested.
“But the news isn't all bad,” said the girl. “There is a way for everything to come out all right. I'm so glad they've carried on the negotiations and we know the terms. See you later!"
With the paper already crumpled in her hands, the girl ran into the house, calling out to her grandmother. Michael shook his head and walked back home where he could go back to bed and sleep until noon. The sack was still heavy with all the extra papers. He thought he probably should report the overabundance to his supervisor, but he wasn’t in the mood for that. On the way, the fire inside him spurred him on to humming a strange tune. Michael couldn’t help but think it was a dragon’s song. When Michael reached his house, his mother met him at the door in her bathrobe and slippers, her hair in curlers, and a very cross look on her face.
"What have you been up to?" she yelled, loudly enough to awake the neighborhood.
"Delivering the papers.”
"Delivering papers indeed," his mother retorted as she eyed the newspapers that filled Michael’s bag. "Looks like you haven't delivered a single one."
"Looks are deceiving."
"Maybe so, but try telling that to your customers."
The phone rang from inside the house. Michael's mother growled like an aroused lioness.
"You answer it this time!"
"Okay, Mom."
Michael dashed into the house and picked up the phone.
"Hello."
“Is this Michael Bullinger?”
“Yea.”
"Where's my morning paper?"
Michael could feel the man’s unshaven whiskers grinding into his ear.
"It's either on your front lawn, or it’s in the shrubs by the house, or it's laid out on your breakfast room table," Michael replied.
"Don't get fresh with me. All I've gotten this morning is a sheet filled with fairy tales."
"Must be a changeling," Michael answered, inspired by his fever. "Know what a changeling is? A changeling is a fairy child who gets exchanged for a human child. Only this is a newspaper changeling."
"I don't care what you call it,” the caller retorted. "What I ordered and what I will pay for is the Milton Gazette. Maybe you think this is funny, but I don’t.”
"Too bad you can't enjoy the fairy tales. It's a Saturday bonus you know. However, just to make your day, I'll be right back with the paper."
Michael hung up. The phone rang again. Michael answered it. This time, a distraught mother described the outcry in her house because the children wanted to read the funnies and her husband was dying to see the high school football scores. Michael made another hasty promise, hung up the phone, grabbed his bag and ran out of the house. The phone rang again.
"Take it off the hook!" Michael yelled over his shoulder.
With the speed of a dragon Michael ran from house to house, throwing gazettes every which way. Some landed half-way up the lawn, some landed on top of bushes, and a favored few landed on a front porch. More than once Michael heard a front door open as he fled. If a customer called after him, Michael acted as if he couldn't hear anything.
By the time he reach St. John’s Church, he was panting in spite of all the energy his inner fire was giving him. Seeing Fr. Clement outside the church talking to a parishioner, Michael tried to slip by.
"Ho! Michael!"
The priest's booming voice was too strong for Michael to run away from. He would have to face Fr. Clement with a bold front.
"Do you wish to complain about the funny paper you got earlier?" Michael asked him.
"I won't complain too much if you're delivering the right paper this time," the priest replied. "Especially if the news is good."
"News was probably better first time round."
"Hmm. Hate to think that half a town getting devoured by a dragon is better news than what is happening in the real world," said Fr. Clement.
Michael gulped.
“Did you say the paper you got earlier wrote up a story about a dragon eating up half a town?” asked Michael.
“I am afraid so. It did say that the king was trying to convince the dragon to stop eating the rest of the town. It kind of reminded me of a story about St. Francis.”
Normally, a story about a saint would be the last thing Michael wanted to hear about, but that day he was ready to listen to anything that might help with his own situation.
“A good story?”
“I think so. A wolf was eating up everybody in a town called Gubbio and Francis converted the wolf and got it to behave itself.
“Oh,” said Michael. “Does that mean somebody has to convert this dragon?”
“I don’t know,” said the priest. “The story does suggest that God’s saints have power even over nature, at least in certain emergencies.”
“I see.”
But Michael did not see. He waved off the priest, only to find Mrs. Lear standing at the door. Michael resigned himself to being devoured by the witch, but this time the embodiment of the wrath of God was almost smiling while her granddaughter was standing at her side, suppressing a fit of the giggles as best she could.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lear," Michael began, "I don't know what happened."
"Neither do I, really," Mrs. Lear replied, as if newspapers about dragons eating up a town were delivered to her doorstep all the time. “Although I think a naughty boy who ate a piece of fruit against the advice of a royal advisor has something to do with it.”
Michael felt hot all over.
“You think so?”
“Yes, I rather think so,” said Mrs. Lear, a hard stare belying her cheerful voice. “You have some hard choices ahead of you. I hope everything works out for the best."
"Hard for me? What do you mean?" Michael stammered.
"Well, like most hard things, I suppose you won't really know how hard it is until you go through it. Otherwise you wouldn't be foolish enough to have the courage to do it."
"I suppose not."
"Just don't forget that we're all behind you," said Mrs. Lear.
Stupefied by the cordial but mysterious words, Michael deposited the last Milton Gazette into Mrs. Lear's hands, backed away and, exhausted by his efforts and burning with fever, ran towards his home fast enough to set a new track record.
But Michael never got home that day. Scott ambushed him at the corner.
"Michael!" cried Scott, holding up a newspaper. "Now we know what to do!"
Michael stopped and caught his breath.
"Do what about what?"
“Look!"
Michael stared at the newspaper Scott held in front of his nose. It called itself the CARELIN CURRIER and the headline read: RAVAGING DRAGON DISCLOSES TERMS. No wonder Michael had received complaints about leaving fairy tales in place of the real paper. Everyone on his route knew about Carelin but most didn't believe in it, except Mrs. Lear.
"I'll have to look at this," said Michael grimly. "I'm hungry. Let’s got to Donna’s Donuts. I can buy a donut for each of us."
"Thank you. I wish I could treat you-"
"But you can't. Some day you will. Come on.”
Michael started off for the donut shop at a fast clip, then had to stop and wait impatiently for Scott, slowed by his limp, to catch up with him. It was enough to make Michael wish he had not kicked Scott off the bus. By the time the two of them were settled in a booth, Michael was almost frantic to see what the newspaper said about the dragon. He tore the paper out of Scott's hands and read the lead article, not even heeding Scott who ordered donuts and coffee for both of them.
RAVAGING DRAGON DISCLOSES TERMS
Myra Golden Dragon, who has broken all precedent established by her kind with her recent behavior, has met peacefully with the king and elders of Carelin to disclose her terms for putting a stop to her destruction of houses and the devouring of one child per day. Myra Golden Dragon explained that the cause of her rage was the discovery that one of the eggs she planted in a tree in the park was missing. With a mother's instinct, she discovered that the lost dragonlet was inside the belly of a human. If, and only if the egg should be delivered to her will she be mollified and her rage and devouring behavior will cease. If the dragonlet’s egg is, as formerly stated, inside the human who stole the egg, Myra Golden Dragon will also require that the human in question be delivered to her as well. Myra Golden Dragon promises that, true to the tradition established by her ancestors from the infinite past, she means no harm to the children she has devoured nor to the human who must present himself in order to save Carelin from total destruction. King Perezvon XXVI has ordered that a search be organized and that all newspapers delivered by Michael the Paper Carrier manifest the story in hope that the human in question will receive word of these recent developments in Carelin and bring himself into the presence of Myra Golden Dragon.
"Is that you?" asked Scott.
Michael looked gloomily at the dragon pictured in the paper. It looked like the same dragon he saw on the bus on the way to Carelin. The children who had been devoured by Myra Golden Dragon were pictured. When Michael saw the faces of Amarilla and Roger, he felt as if a bottomless pit had opened up in his stomach.
"What do you think?"
Scott grunted. The question needed no answer.
"’Golden Dragons may appear to act destructively, but in the end, their actions prove to be beneficent,’" Michael quoted, as if in a dream.
"Sounds good,” said Scott. “Where did you hear that?"
"In this book."
Michael took the dragon book out of his newspaper bag and handed it to Scott. Scott leafed through the few unstuck pages with interest.
"Yes, it does say that Golden Dragons are always kind. On this page it says: ‘no Golden Dragon has ever been dissected because such actions are offensive to their metaphysical principles. Therefore, not even the most knowledgeable biologists in Carelin know what is inside a dragon. They can only guess that the internal systems are unique to the species.’ Then it says that 'some people have-'" Scott tried to turn the page but couldn't.
"Some of the pages are stuck," said Michael.
"So I see."
Scott tried to pry the page loose but only succeeded in tearing it. At last he had to give up.
"That's all I can read from this chapter," said Scott.
"Big help," said Michael.
"Doesn't tell you what you want to know, does it?"
"No."
Scott sipped his coffee and took a bite out of his donut with little interest in its taste. Michael, deep in thought, remained oblivious of the chocolate frosted donut in front of him.
"You'll have to go back, won't you?" said Scott.
Michael looked at Scott, then looked out the window, as if hoping the bus might come down the street. No traffic of any interest was passing by that early on a Saturday.
"I suppose I will," said Michael. “What does 'beneficent' mean, anyway?"
"It was on our vocabulary list a few weeks ago," answered Scott. "It means 'kind, having a disposition to do the best for other people.'"
Michael stared out the window some more, then pounded the table with his fist.
"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Michael cried.
Scott looked across the table in silence. The waitress eyed Michael carefully, waiting tensely for more riotous behavior.
"Why should all those children in Carelin have to get eaten up when it’s all my fault?" asked Michael.
"Why do teachers punish a whole class when only a few of us were cutting up?" Scott asked in return.
"Teachers are mean," said Michael.
What about golden dragons?" Scott prompted.
"They probably think there's some after-life where everything is just peachy so it’s okay for them to can do any old thing in this life that they feel like doing.”
Scott took another sip of coffee.
"If dragons believe in an after-life,” said Scott, “they might think they had better behave well right now. That’s what Father Clement says, anyway."
“What does he know?” asked Michael.
“If God likes good people, then only good people like him,” Scott replied. “That means bad people don’t like God and don’t want to be near him.”
“I know the feeling,” Michael grumbled.
Michael plunged his head down to the table and held it there for a long time.
"Michael?"
"Yea."
"I'll come with you."
"What for?"
"Maybe it’ll help if I’m with you,” said Scott. “I just want to help.”
"You just want to see Carelin for yourself."
“That’s true. I do want to see Carelin. Anything wrong with that? Don't you want to see it again, too? Do you really want to stay here in Milton now that you know what’s happened in Carelin? Do you really want to go back to Carelin all alone?"
Michael started to form a retort in his mind, but the words never came. Instead, a series of sharp pains in his back made Michael writhe in agony.
"What's the matter?" asked Scott.
"Nothing."
"You can't fool me. I know what your trouble is. It's getting worse now, isn't it?"
A loud rip in Michael's shirt answered the question.
"Scott," said Michael, growing pale. "Take a quick look under my jacket."
Scott came over and gently lifted the jacket enough to see what was there. Scott was not surprised.
"Wings," said Scott. "Golden dragon wings."
The waitress continued to eye the scene. Nothing about her showed that she realized what was really happening.
"I've had it," said Michael. "If I go back, Myra will kill me. If I don't go back, I won't be Michael any more."
"Is there any choice?" asked Scott.
Michael shook his head. After hastily dropping more coins on the table than expected for a tip, he tore out of the cafe with Scott desperately trying to keep up with him.
"Where are you going?" asked Scott.
"Carelin."
Michael continued his way down Main Street but slowed down enough for Scott to walk by his side.
"Michael."
"What?"
"This can't work."
"How come?"
"This can't be the way to Carelin."
"How do you know?"
"I just know. Can't you think of something else?"
Michael could. He turned around and walked slowly to the park.