Chapter 9

The dismissal bell finally rang. Testing was over for the day. Ray packed his things out of his locker and headed to the parking lot to his motorcycle.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar sight. It was his friend, Patrick.

"Yo, Ray!" Patrick caught up with Ray as he walked. "Where have you been, man? I heard about the accident."

"Yeah, um," Ray tried to think of what to say. "I just suffered a concussion, but I'm fine now."

"Really? I thought I heard that you had some stitches or something. And you're still gonna ride your bike around?"

"Yep," Ray nodded. "It's just what I do. I like motorcycles."

"I hear you," Patrick laughed. "I mean, I know you've got work and everything, but when was the last time you hung out with the guys?"

Ray paused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems like you kind of got all, I don't know, anti-social all the sudden. Is something going on?" Patrick asked.

"No, I've just been really busy with work and with the exams and everything, I just can't really find any time to hang out," Ray replied.

"Well, the last day of school is on friday. I'm having a party at my place friday night, you're welcome to come, man," Patrick shrugged.

They had made it to Ray's motorcycle. He mounted it and slipped on his helmet.

"Okay, I know I really haven't been around lately and I'm sorry. I'll be at the party, I promise. What time's it start?"

"Right after school, I've got some alcohol and fireworks, Luke was going to see if he could score some bud."

Ray thought for a minute. He had been debating whether or not he should quit smoking, as he hadn't had nicotine or marijuana cravings since he was healed. No, he could just go and not smoke or drink. It would be fine.

"Okay, I'll be there. See you tomorrow," Ray ignited the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

Ray didn't like having to lie to his mom, boss, the hospital, and now his friends. When was it going to end? How was it going to end? He couldn't help but feel a bit lonely. He missed his friends, but he had to be home as much as he could, to be there for Firedrake and Sorrel.

The days went by, and Ray went to exam after exam, until Friday finally came.

He told Firedrake ahead of time where he was going, and told him about work the next day. Ray had received the information for Ben's flight, and he was to be arriving next week.

Unfortunately, he would have to leave Twigleg behind. Putting a homunculus in a back pack or suitcase wouldn't turn out too well to airport security on the X-Ray machine.

They hadn't really worked out a plan yet, but Ray assumed that Ben would be accompanying Firedrake back through Canada and Russia. Deep down inside him, he really wanted to go, as well. He wasn't going to ask them if he could go, but if they asked him he would surely accept.

After the school day was over, along with the last of the exams, the student body poured out of the intimidating, industrial looking building. People held boom boxes, and had tailgates in the parking lot until the school faculty shooed them away. Ray was caught in traffic, his least favorite place to be, behind his fellow students.

He saw Patrick's car in his rearview mirror. Most of the people were headed to Patrick's, as he throws a party at the end of every school year. He always makes sure his parents are nowhere to be found during these parties, so the people with Fake ID's can bring in the alcohol.

Ray was among the first to arrive at Patrick's. It was the complete opposite of Ray's house. It was in a suburban paradise. With curbed streets, fancy street lights at every corner, sidewalks, and tennis courts, it was a dream come true for the upper middle class trying to escape the city.

As more and more people showed up, most of the people crowded the pool to escape the heat. There was music, water, and after sundown, fireworks and alcohol. Everything an angst-ridden teen could want.

Everyone around Ray was smoking or drinking. He remembered he had work tomorrow, and decided he would leave around midnight.

"Come on, man!" Patrick opened a bottle of beer and held it out to Ray. "Lighten up."

Ray hesitated. "I've got work tomorrow, man."

"So?" Patrick laughed. "I know you like to drink, just one beer isn't going to do anything."

"Alright, alright," Ray grabbed the bottle and took a swig of the beer. It gave him a buzz, and clouded his judgement. He had beer after beer, having a great time. He hadn't really socialized in what seemed like ages, ever since Firedrake landed, and he'd been staying home with them.

Still, they were on his mind the entire time. His vision became blurry, and he was occasionally seeing double. He said his goodbyes to Patrick, noting that it was four in the morning and he had work tomorrow.

"Dude, you're not driving," Patrick stopped Ray. "You're wasted, man. Go in my house and crash on the couch, okay?"

Ray was so tired and drunk, he didn't really know what to think, so he just went with what Patrick said. He collapsed on the couch, awaking after his phone's alarm beeped. All round him, there were beer bottles, plastic cups, and other pieces of trash. Some people slept in the same room as Ray, but most people had left.

His throbbing head made him shudder, and when he checked the time his heart began to pound. He had a nine hour shift ahead of him, and he was terribly hungover. Not only that, but he reeked of alcohol. There was no time to swing by his house to get cleaned up, so he snuck into Patrick's bathroom. No one else in the house stirred.

Ray opened the medicine cabinet, finding the two things he was looking for. Aspirin, and a spray can of Axe body spray. He sprayed himself down to mask the scent of alcohol, and washed his mouth out with mouthwash.

"Good enough," He mumbled. The aspirin began to kick in, and he was at least able to keep his balance. Ray stuffed a few pills of aspirin in his pocket, should he need them later, and headed out to his Kawasaki.

It loyally waited for him, nudged between several other cars. Luckily, no one had decided to tip it that night after getting wasted beyond all recognition.

He fired up his bike and headed to the interstate, still feeling terrible. There was no way he could pull this off in his current condition. Ray stopped by a gas station and bought two energy drinks and a breakfast bar.

He still felt lightheaded, but it's not like he could just not show up for work. Ray got back on his motorcycle, and unconfidently got back on the interstate. After a few minutes he was in Atlanta, and pulled off his exit, driving between the sky scrapers. It was a dull and overcast day, which blocked the constant heat of the sun.

The traffic wasn't as bad today either. Ray shifted into a lower gear, now that he was back in the city. He pulled into the parking lot of Bob's Custom Cycles. He arrived just on time, at 8:58. Hopefully, the body spray and the wind from riding his motorcycle would air him out from the smell of alcohol.

Ray knew he was hung over, but Bob was going to have him work on bikes today. He needed to be able to think and be good with his hands, but Ray only felt burnt out from the party last night.

He parked his bike, and opened the barred, glass door of Bob's shop. "Hey, Ray!" Bob was turning on the open sign. "You ready to get those bikes done today?"

"Yeah," Ray croaked. Bob looked Ray up and down.

"Is something wrong, Ray? You look tired."

"No, Bob. I'm fine," Ray said through a terrible headache.

"Alright, you look a little flustered is all," Bob pulled up the blinds in the glass walls of the store's front.

"You can get started by changing the tires on the Harley that's on the lift, and then there's a Buell that needs a new front fender. You know what to do, after you finish those two come to me."

"I got it," Ray forced himself to keep his balance, and went back to the garage.

Ray saw that the Harley on the lift had a flat rear tire. He went through the tool rack and found the tools he'd need, and worked off the rear tire. He wasn't alert enough, and the chain came off quickly, scratching the chrome muffler.

Ray cursed his luck and proceeded on the tire. Fortunately, the scratch wasn't too bad, and it should buff out. Ray Put the used the tire on a thread locker, which separated the tire and the rim.

He slipped a new inter tube in and put it back on the Harley. The scratch in the muffler buffed out as he'd hoped, and he moved onto the Buell Blast.

The Buell only needed a replacement fender. Ray located the new fender and put his mask and goggles on, then retrieved the paint gun. He sprayed the fender candy apple red, the color of the Buell Blast.

Ray air dried it and replaced it, feeling a deep pang of fatigue. He sat down for a minute, reflecting on the party last night. Most of it was a blur. Ray wasn't sure if he did anything he would regret.

Ray opened his eyes, remembering that he was at work. As he began to work the damaged fender off of the Buell Blast, his mind wandered. He thought about Ben coming next week, as well as Firedrake in his garage, whom he thought of often.

Ray's eyes grew heavy, as the throbbing in his head increased. He popped another aspirin in his mouth, praying it would allow him to continue working.

He screwed on the bolts to the fender, chucking the old one in a box for trash. Ray felt drowsy again, knowing he wasn't going to be able to finish the day.

An hour had passed, and Bob gave Ray more bikes to work on. He had 21 with minor mechanical or cosmetic problems that Ray was to finish today.

Ray moved on to a Honda Rebel with a faulty engine. He began pulling out the burnt out parts. Ray felt a surge of fatigue, and almost lost his balance. He still felt in effect of the alcohol. He felt nauseous, fighting to keep himself from vomiting.

He clutched his forehead. The music from the radio across the garage sounded different. He had a hot flash, Ray just wanted not to spill his guts. Ray ran to the bathroom, and closed the door. He hoped Bob wouldn't hear what was about to go down.

What happened in the Bathroom is best unsaid. Ray stared into the toilet, a mess of what he'd eaten and drank from last night to this morning. He flushed the toilet, and cleaned himself up at the sink.

Ray opened the door, and came face to face with Big Bob, his arms crossed, with a solemn expression on his face.

"What did you do last night, Ray?" Bob raised an eyebrow.

Ray almost told him the truth, but then lied through his teeth.

"Nothing, I went home, but I fell asleep pretty late. It must have been something I had to eat."

"Ray, you come in here tired, sick, and your eyes red on the morning after the last day of school," Bob laughed. "Listen Ray, you haven't worked here in days, I know you were in a wipe out not too long ago, but you seem to have fully recovered from it."

Ray looked at his shoes, knowing what was about to happen.

"Ray, you're costing me too much by not working, and getting into all this, this," Bob looked for a word. "This stuff. Not to mention, I can smell the alcohol."

"Okay," Ray said, ashamed.

"Ray, I'm gonna have to let you go."

It hit Ray hard, and he felt cold in the chest. He leaned up against the wall, and put his hands in his pockets, at a loss for words.

"Okay," Ray said again.

"I'm sorry Ray, you know how things run around here," Bob handed Ray a wad of cash.

"That should do for last week and today."

Ray said nothing. He looked out the window at his Kawasaki Ninja, and then at Bob. "Remember what I've taught you. If you have any problems with your bike, I've got the parts."

"Okay, Bob."

Ray started to walk out of the garage, and then back outside. He looked around, wondering what he was going to do next. The city moved all around him, but Ray felt still. He got on his Kawasaki and started the engine. He took one last look back at the shop. Bob was watching him through the window. He waved, and then went back out of view.

Ray rode around the city for some time. As terrible as he was feeling, he still took pity on a homeless man wheeling himself up the street. He looked to be a veteran of sorts. Ray pulled over, and the man held up his cardboard sign.

"I lost the use of my legs for this country. Please help."

Ray felt the bulge of wad of cash in his wallet. He took out his wallet, and plunged his hand in. He closed his eyes, and removed several random bills.

A twenty, a five, and a one.

"It's not like I'll need it," Ray sighed.

Ray got off his bike and handed the cash to the african american veteran.

"You should make better use of it than I could," Ray said to the man.

The veteran smiled, he was missing a few teeth. "God bless you, son."

Ray couldn't even smile. He felt a deep sadness within him.

After a short trip on the interstate, he'd made it to the country road he knew like the back of his hand. Ray decreased his speed, and pulled over to a spot he'd pulled over to almost two weeks ago.

He thought intensely. He was in a bit of shock. Getting food wouldn't be a problem. He had over seven hundred dollars in savings, which was going to go to a new car.

He'd acquired his old car through his cousin. He bought the Kawasaki Ninja himself, however. He could survive the summer, sure. Thankfully, Barnabas was sending money along with Ben for necessities. Ray felt the nausea in his stomach return, and his head throbbed again. Out of aspirin, he sat at the side of the road and endured it.

After it ended, he got back on the road. Ray got to his driveway, and solemnly put down his kickstand in front of his porch. He glanced at his garage. The door was still shut, but Ray could see movement inside. Ray removed his helmet and set it down on the seat, then walked closer to the garage. He must have woken Firedrake up. Ray pushed his garage door opener, and Firedrake stuck his long neck out of the garage, blowing hot breath on him.

"Hey, you never came home last night," Firedrake yawned.

Sorrel shifted in her sleep, and curled into a ball behind Firedrake.

"Yeah," Ray sat down on the concrete. "I kind of got into some things."

"Oh?" Firedrake looked at Ray's motorcycle and then at Ray. Ray sat motionless, remembering Bob's every word.

"You look kind of tense, Is something bothering you?" Firedrake asked.

Ray looked at Firedrake, not sure if he'd understand. He sighed.

"What's that smell?" Firedrake sniffed.

"Alcohol," Ray replied solemnly.

"So, what's bothering you, then?" Firedrake turned his head.

"Well, the reason I'm not at work right now," Ray glanced at the floor.

"It's because I lost my job."

"Oh," Firedrake put his head down to Ray's eye level.

"I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

"My boss found out what I did last night, and why I couldn't work today."

"What did you do last night, anyway?" Firedrake gave Ray a serious look.

"Nothing good," Ray replied. "Got wasted, fooled around with some girls, can't really remember."

"Wasted?" Firedrake said.

"Um, I don't think you'd understand," Ray replied.

"Oh," Firedrake stood up and crawled out of the garage.

"Enough about that, though," Ray said as quietly closed the garage.

"Let me check your wing. It's been two weeks, it should show signs of healing."

Ray awkwardly climbed up on Firedrake's back, and came to the makeshift splint. He removed the two broom sticks and the sheets. Firedrake didn't seem to be in much pain, if any at all. "How's the pain?"

"I feel fine, it just feels really stiff."

Ray examined the wing. It looked as if it had healed completely, but Ray wasn't about to jump to conclusions. Ray led Firedrake to the shade of an oak tree and got a flashlight. He examined the silhouette of the bone with the flashlight. First, he examined a healthy and unbroken bone, then the previously fractured bone. He compared the two.

On the fractured bone, there was what looked like small cracks in several places. The bone was growing back correctly, at least.

"How is it?" Firedrake turned his head to look at Ray.

"I think it might be done healing soon," Ray smiled as he slid off of Firedrake's back.

"How long do you think?" Firedrake asked.

"Well, I guess dragons have a faster rate of healing than humans. Usually, breaking a bone takes well over 6 weeks to heal. I'd say you need another week or two, and maybe you can try flying again."

Firedrake moved his bare wing in circles.

"I wouldn't push it, the bone is still cracked," Ray said. "I should probably redo the splint, or do you think you'll be fine?"

"No, I'll remember not move it," Firedrake sat down on the grass and yawned.

"So, what are you going to do when your wing heals?" Ray asked.

Firedrake was quiet for a few moments. "Fly back to the Rim of Heaven, I suppose."

"And that's in China?" Ray said.

"That's right," Firedrake responded.

"That's something I've always wanted to do," Ray went on. "Oh, see the world, I mean. Never have traveled that much, but I've always wanted to leave the country for a while."

"Well," Firedrake laughed. "If you went where I'm going, you'd see things very few humans ever see."

"The Rim of Heaven?" Ray stopped to think. All this talking about it, and he never really thought about it. "What's it like there?"

"It's nice," Firedrake stated. "There's a big lake, some caves, and it's a decent temperature most of the year. Hardly ever rains. But there's not any human civilization nearby, so we get our privacy."

"That's good," Ray threw a branch that had fallen off a tree into a stack of firewood he used for bonfires.

Ray was quiet for some time. Firedrake watched him as he cleaned up the yard. They said nothing, but nothing really needed to be said. Ray finished, not really knowing what to do next, so he sat down next to Firedrake.

"You want to come, don't you?" Firedrake said at last.

"Was it that obvious?" Ray looked up at Firedrake.

"Just a little," Firedrake laughed. "But I'm going to ask you the same thing I asked Ben more than seven years ago. Is there anyone that would miss you?"

"Maybe," Ray shrugged. "My mother would surely notice, but I don't know about miss me."

"What about your father?" Firedrake asked.

"Um," Ray hesitated, debating whether or not he should explain. Instead, he just shook his head. "Nope."

"I see," Firedrake sighed. "You may never come back, or never come back alive for that matter."

Ray shrugged again. "I don't care."

"You'll be living in the wilderness. You may not even see any other humans for months, or even years."

"Fine with me."

"Well then," Firedrake put his muzzle down between his paws, grinning.

"Looks like I have another rider!"

"Rider?" Ray laughed. Then he realized, he really hadn't put any thought into how we was going with Firedrake either. He was riding a dragon from North America to the Himalayas!

"I guess so!" Ray beamed with excitement, not knowing which way to look.

Then his smile faded. "I do have a life here, though."

"I know. What would you be leaving behind?" Firedrake blew a small flame, but dew kept the grass from igniting.

"Friends, school, my car, my motorcycle," Ray looked at the sky. "A lot of things. I guess you don't realize what you have until you really take a look at it."

"Or until you lose it," Firedrake uttered. "I learned that the hard way."

"The valley you were talking about?" Ray looked back at the garage, expecting Sorrel to walk in on them any minute.

"Yes and no," Firedrake sighed. "All the dragons I knew. My home, my family."

"You have a family?" Ray asked.

"Of course I do," Firedrake replied. "You'll meet them."

"I can't wait to see what this place looks like," Ray smiled. "But after all that, do you think the other dragons will take too kindly to humans?"

"Some still don't, but most will. I told them all about Ben and the Greenblooms."

"It's not like I've done anything like that, though," Ray said.

"What are you talking about, Ray?" Firedrake lifted his head up. "What have you done? You've done more than you think, actually. You gave Sorrel and I a place to stay, and not only that you fixed my wing. On top of that, you found Ben! Ray, I've seen the good in humans in people like you. It's my dream one day that we can live in harmony."

Ray smiled. "That's my dream, too."

They sat and talked for sometime, until Firedrake was getting sleepy.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to sleep or anything?" Ray asked.

"No, I'm fine," Firedrake said. "Tell me something Ray, what do you know how to do?"

"A lot of things," Ray leaned up against the oak tree. "I'm good with a rifle, for one thing. I grew up hunting with my granddad, so I can track animals through footprints and whatnot. My uncle was a doctor, and I lived with him for a few years. He taught me some basic medical training. I can deal with, well, broken bones," Ray gestured to Firedrake's wing. "Wounds, physical injuries, you know? Not so much on disease. Kind of skipped that chapter."

"I see," Firedrake said. "Anything else?"

"I've worked at a motorcycle shop, so I can repair motors and other mechanical things to a degree, but I don't think it'll be too useful on this type of journey."

"Motors?" Firedrake asked.

"It's the part on a motorcycle or car, or a lot of other things, that makes them move or work."

"Depending on my wing, I guess we won't be leaving for a little while, then," Firedrake said as he closed his eyes. "I'm about to drift off, it was good talking to you."

"Hey Firedrake?" Ray stood up and took a few steps away.

"Hm?" Firedrake opened an eye.

"Thanks," Ray gave him a thumbs up and opened the sliding glass door to his living room.

Firedrake smiled and went to sleep. Ray sat on his couch, feeling content. He looked around. How long until he left? For that matter, how long would he be gone?

Ray started to rethink his decision. Did he want to miss out on the human experience, to go live with dragons and god knows what else? What about school? Was all his years of effort going to be worthless? What about college? Falling in love? His mind raced.

What about a life very few people could ever live? The plan was that Ray was going, and he decided to stick with it.

Ray opened up his laptop and went to Google. He put his hands on the keyboard.

"Basic survival skills."