Becoming the Dragon Page 2

  Sergey kept going into the other room until an entire collection of different kinds of bows lay on the coffee table. The lecture had a lasting effect on Andy. In an hour, he’d learned more about bows than he’d read in books from first through sixth grade.

  ***

  Sergey began Andy’s training with breathing exercises. Then came the development of his shoulder girdle, strengthening exercises and various tasks designed to improve his ability to judge by eye, and his hand-eye coordination. The lessons were interesting. Andy’s friends showed up just to listen to the lectures on bows and ancient weapons. Sergey had a large selection of books and materials on old weapons that started with ancient Egypt and ended at the beginning of the twentieth century. In fact, the tutor had developed a whole philosophy on the lore of archery and spent a good deal of time edifying his young pupil in it.

  It was six months before Andy picked up a bow for the first time, and still, he didn’t get to shoot it. Instead, his tutor asked him to fit it with a bowstring and slowly pull on it to the point at which an arrow could be shot from it. Then he had to return it to the starting position in an equally slow motion and continue doing so for endless hours until his hands began to quiver.

  ***

  One day, Andy came to Sergey’s class with a puppy on a leash. Much to his relief, the dog’s presence was met favorably. Sergey scratched and rubbed his shaggy sides and pet his wide forehead. He then told his student to fully accept his responsibility for another and learn to take care of his four-legged friend.

  The puppy was a hand-me-down of sorts from Andy’s older sister, Irina. The impulsive girl was prone to bursts of compassion and love for her fellow creatures. She fed stray kittens in the alley and pigeons and sparrows in their backyard. And when she found a little, lost puppy, she brought him home, intent on caring for him the best she could. Unfortunately, although she had the best of intentions, her interest in these new projects tended to fade quickly. Before long, she had abandoned the puppy to his own devices, which often consisted of leaving puddles and piles behind him. These, Irina flatly refused to clean up, and although no one wanted to take responsibility for Bon, they couldn’t bring themselves to cast him back out on the street. Finally, their father, Iliya, delegated Bon to Andy and severely reprimanded his impulsive daughter, forbidding her even to go near other animals. “Love them from a distance,” he instructed.

  In a year, Bon shot up from a funny little puppy to an enormous canine, something like a cross between a crocodile and a puffed-up suitcase, weighing over a hundred pounds. Andy was Bon’s mother, father, and kind master all in one, and, in Bon’s eyes, the only commanding officer above Andy was Iliya. The hearty, big-boned man commanded respect by his appearance alone, but with a mastery of three languages and an advanced degree in physics, he was an intimidating figure to both man and beast alike.

  Bon was a cooperative and loyal companion, always at Andy’s side. During Andy’s training sessions with Sergey, the canine behaved himself nicely and was never underfoot. Sergey adored the dog and even took care of him a couple of times when Andy’s family took vacations to the seashore.

  ***

  Andy returned from the bakery to a ruckus that included the strumming of a guitar and the sound of many voices. The entryway was full of backpacks and various kinds of gear. He then realized they’d been descended upon by the “Tolkieneers,” as his father called them. Iliya was irate about his daughter’s new obsession with elves, reconstructions, and cosplay, considering it all foolishness and nonsense. Irina and her equally odd girlfriends were learning Qenya and ordering custom-made elvish-style dresses online. They spent hours on the internet meticulously searching for the best fashions for role-playing games. Mom and Andy had no problem with Irina’s new obsession and actually found it mildly amusing.

  “Oh, Iliya,” his mom tried to reason, “let them have their quirks.”

  “Andy?” Irina appeared in the entryway. “How about making something yummy for breakfast?”

  “Yeah, right,” Andy retorted immediately. Judging by the shoes left in the hall, there were at least five people over. He had no desire to feed that crowd.

  “Ande-e-e-e, dear…” Irina pouted. “I’ve talked up your talent in the kitchen so much, they’re simply drooling in anticipation. Now, they’re going to think I’m just a bragger whose word is no good. Come on, be a dear. Do it for me? Pleeeease?”

  Her palms together in a supplicating gesture, Irina gazed sweetly at her little brother and batted her long eyelashes.

  Andy silently contemplated his sister. When did she have time to do her makeup? he thought. Fifteen minutes ago, she was sleeping like a log!

  “You are a stupid bragger, but I’ll do it this once,” Andy relented. “But you’re cleaning up!”

  “You’re the best, Bro! No doubt about it!”

  ***

  While Andy clunked dishes preparing breakfast, a serious argument broke out in the living room as to whether a modern person could be transported to a fantasy world and how amazing the possibilities would be.

  What’s the fuss about? Andy thought. This portal voyager will probably end up knifed upon arrival, and that’s it, the end. Or worse still, he would be captured and sent to work the streets or to a harem. What, you think they’ll be waiting for you there with open arms? Get real!

  In the end, the debating parties agreed that taking a stroll in another world would be awesome.

  No one paid attention to the argument Alena, Irina’s friend, put forward. She suggested the inhabitants of another world may not know of Qenya and may have another way of living.

  “Don’t they have enough local mages there already?” she asked. “What’s more, they handle weapons from childhood, not just during role-playing games.”

  The debate quieted down for a moment, and then someone apparently said something that made the whole crew burst out laughing. Bon, intuitively realizing Andy was super irritated by the loud sounds coming from the other room, trotted over to the door between the living room and kitchen, stuck his head into the room and barked deafeningly. He stood there a few more seconds to make sure his interference in the conversation had the desired effect, shook himself, turned around and laid down on his rug near the kitchen door.

  “Good job, Boy!” Andy praised the dog and tossed him a piece of ham. The treat didn’t reach the floor.

  “What was that?” Andy heard the question rolling in from the other room.

  “That mutt will cure your hiccups in a hurry! Hey, Troll, you look a little pale after that. You okay?”

  “Peachy. I almost pooped my pants.” Andy heard this unknown “Troll” answer, and a new outbreak of laughter nearly shook the walls. “It’s a good thing I went at home this morning, or I would’ve had a hard time keeping clean!”

  Andy glanced at the dog in a conspiratorial manner and pointed to the room. “Bon, sic!”

  Bon got up from the rug and headed toward the room to lay down the law. Andy followed on tiptoe to watch. A mirror hanging on the wall in the entryway gave him a great view of the unfolding events. Leaving her half-finished juice on the table, Olga followed her brother, determined to join in the fun.

  The room was full of guests. Andy recognized two of them. There was Alena, Irina’s friend, and next to his sister, perched on a high-backed chair, sat Mark, the tow-headed fellow currently seeking the role of his sister’s boyfriend.

  Naive guy, you’re clueless, Andy thought pityingly. Irina changes gallant knights more often than she changes her clothes, and you, along with the crowd, will get kicked to the curb, as soon as the next fad comes along.

  Next to Alena, on the sofa, sat a long-legged beauty he’d never seen before. She was an eye-catching brunette with short hair and a plunging neckline on her fitted blazer. In the armchair by the window sat a strapping, ham-handed young man with a shaved head. Troll! Andy guessed. There were no other candidates for such a moniker. In another armchair, with his back to Andy and a seve
n-string guitar resting on his knees, sat a long-haired young man, the one who called Bon a crocodile.

  While Andy eyed the company, Mark scooted closer to Irina and tried to put his arm around her. She recoiled, just slightly moving her shoulder away from the suitor and directing her gaze toward the long-haired Legolas facing her from across the room.

  Mark doesn’t even stand a chance!

  As soon as Bon entered the room, the laughter quieted as if he’d waved a magic wand. The canine inspected the whole party, let out a snort of disgust and then, baring his formidable teeth, delivered another strong round of intimidating barks. He focused mostly on Troll, growling at him to boot. When he had given the bewildered crowd a second contemptuous snort and licked Irina’s hands, he retired to the entryway.

  “Troll, did you get what he was saying to you?” the long-haired youth called out.

  “I can’t even imagine…”

  “That demon—by some divine error called a dog—just let you know not to defile other people’s homes with your presence!”

  Andy left his lookout post and entered the living room, capturing the Tolkieneers’ attention. Irina subtly shook her fist at him, knowing very well who had unleashed Bon on them.

  “I need volunteers,” Andy announced. “Two of you move the table in here and set it,” he nodded in the direction of the round table in the corner, “and a couple of you wonderful ‘elves’ can serve the fare that some other helpers can bring in from the kitchen. Don’t be afraid of Bon. The dog’s been fed. Just don’t be loud, or he’ll get nervous!”

  ***

  “Oh, wow! The food is so good!” Vera, the brunette, exclaimed, before licking her plump red lips with the end of her tongue as she stabbed the last morsel on her plate with her fork.

  Before they began serving, Irina had remembered her manners and introduced the guests to her brother.

  “Irina, where’d you get a brother like that?” asked George, AKA Troll, still chewing.

  “You’ll make a good husband someday!” Vera said, casting a soulful look at the chef and winking at Irina. “You can do everything; your wife won’t have to go near the stove!”

  Andy feigned confusion. “But why would I need a wife who won’t do anything?”

  “What do you mean! To carry her in your arms and bring her breakfast in bed of course!” Vera got up, walked over to him, leaned over and wiped a drop of sauce from his chin with a napkin. The subtle odor of expensive perfume engulfed him. Her décolleté, with its milky-white, firm looking, inviting little breasts, was right in front of his face. She ran her slender fingers mischievously over his shoulder.

  Andy’s jeans suddenly became several sizes too tight in the crotch. It was too late to extract his eyes from the quagmire of her bosom.

  “Oh! This colt’s become a steed already!” Vera noticed the awkward fit of his pants. “Irina, you said he was just a little boy! Some little boy! Take a glance at his fly! Just look how he’s staring! And his shoulders are so wide… Troll, hon, this guy will soon rival you!”

  Vera messed up Andy’s hair flirtatiously and kissed him on the top of his head, making him turn as red as a lobster. They had more than gotten back at him for his antics with Bon; they had ridiculed him. The gang around the table laughed.

  Thinking quickly, Andy said, “Vera, how many days does your game go?”

  “Three. Olga didn’t tell you?”

  “I’ve got a proposition for you. You know, this game you’re playing…let them play for a while. You give me a couple of private lessons in domestic life, and I’ll carry you in my arms and bring you breakfast in bed. I won’t let you near the stove. What do you think?”

  The room broke out in another burst of laughter.

  “Troll, look, you’ve got competition! The boy is about to steal Vera right out from under you!” Egor, the long-haired youth remarked, choking on his laughter.

  “Yeaaaah…” Vera drawled. “Kerimova,” she said addressing Irina, “you and your boy are cut from the same cloth; you’ve got razor-sharp tongues.”

  The landline on the coffee table jangled. Irina waved her hand for silence. She answered the phone. “Hello…yeah, Dad…fine…I’ll check…Andy can bring it…I’ll tell him. Bye.”

  “What’s up?” Andy asked his sister.

  “Dad’s boss showed up and asked to see his work on the new apparatus, but the documents with the color bar test patterns are here at home. Can you take them? And I can take Olga to Grandma’s.”

  He’d take them; what choice did he have?

  “What does your dad do?” Egor asked.

  “He works with high-voltage magnetic fields and resonance phenomena. Something like that. It’s all mumbo-jumbo to me,” Irina said. “Point-like variation in the metrics of space. He’s trying to create teleportation. He says they’ve made some headway. Can you imagine? A quick ‘Zooomph!’ and you’re in America! Whoever paves the way with that kind of thing will be raking in the dough!”

  “Has the government really forked over the funding for that?” Egor asked in surprise.

  “You expect that from the government? No, a very wealthy investor is financing the whole thing. There’s a lot of money tied up in this research. When Dad got picked up by this investor, his salary increased ten times.”

  Irina ran into her father’s study and came back with a black folder of documents since Andy couldn’t enter the office when the computer was running.

  As Andy tied his shoes in the hall, Bon seemed to go berserk. As he stood to leave, the dog bit into Andy’s pant leg and wouldn’t let him out the door. When he managed to trick the dog and slide out the entrance, the dog sat back on his haunches and howled at the top of his lungs.

  Everyone was surprised. “Does he always behave like this?” Egor asked Irina. She shook her head, her eyebrows slightly raised in concern.

  “Hmm,” Egor reflected, “it’s as if he can sense some trouble coming…”

  ***

  Iliya’s office was on a former military base on the other side of the city. Andy had to change buses to get there since there were no direct routes. The first part of the route was on an old Korean-made bus. At the back sat a boisterous group of four guys dressed in imitation gangster-style clothes. They wore the typical baggy rapper pants, bandanas, baseball caps and sweaty untucked t-shirts with chunky chains around their necks. Andy turned toward the window. He never liked posers like these, imitating African American rappers and clinging to a subculture that wasn’t theirs. One of the guys took a laptop out of his bag, and Andy soon heard the sound of passionate moans and groans coming from the speakers. The group guffawed at the on-screen action, with the whole bus privy to their comments. A couple of passengers reprimanded them, to which the young hoodlums responded with a round of profanity.

  Jerks! Andy thought and decided to put a stop to the anarchy. He offered his seat to an old lady and used the excuse to move closer to the group. Let the good times begin!

  The moans began to fade at the most interesting moment, and then completely fell away. He knew the laptop’s screen showed nothing but flickering ripples.

  “What!” he heard one boy squawk. “We haven’t finished the film!” Next, came a torrent of comments and ideas on how to restore the frozen video. They passed the laptop between them, trying to revive it, but it showed no signs of life. Andy stared out the window so they wouldn’t know he was grinning mischievously.

  The cure-all fix came next—a power reboot. They turned the laptop off and on again; it started up normally for a second, giving them hope, and then the screen immediately turned back to ripples, followed by a fade to black. Frustrated to their wits’ end, the boys decided any attempt to revive the computer was worthless. It had flat-lined.

  “Stupid piece of crap!” its owner furiously threw the computer down on the seat. “‘Made in China.’ Cheap garbage!”

  “Sell that thing for scrap metal,” one of the hoodlums said sagely. “And maybe next time, don’t get o
ne that’s made in China.”

  Two stops before Andy’s, the group got off the bus and left the laptop on the seat. It’s a nice laptop, Andy though. The Chinese aren’t so bad. I’ll give it to Irina. She can reinstall Windows on it herself. He deftly snatched the abandoned property.

  ***

  Andy sputtered in a thick cloud of diesel exhaust as the bus rolled away. After ten minutes of leisurely walking, he came to the old concrete guardrail of the military base.

  Now, where is that hole in the fence I know so well? The wall was there to keep folks out for their own good. Andy bypassed it and headed toward the former base headquarters.

  “Builders have been busy here! They’ve cluttered up the whole grounds,” Andy mumbled, walking around strange, latticed construction and bizarre 10-foot-long cast blocks. Every 20 feet or so, he had to jump over thick, high-voltage cable harnesses.

  A sharp pain in his head stopped him short in the middle of the grounds. He found himself enveloped in St. Elmo’s fire, surrounded by a rumble like a low-flying jet. Everything grew dim. The savage pain drilled at his temples, and Andy grabbed his head.

  I have to get out of here! He didn’t know where to go. Suddenly, an instinctual internal voice cried, Anywhere! He took a step, and the earth pulled away from under his feet. His face met the branches of a coniferous tree…

  ***

  “Mr. Kerimov, perhaps in the meantime, we can warm the equipment up? How much longer will it be?” The investor’s inspector was anxious.

  “I requested the machine, but you decided there was no rush and arranged an inspection of the complex.” Andy’s father cast the inspector a hostile glance.