Part Two: The Cause for Panic
"I'm telling you Billy, this was a bad idea," Bob said for the hundredth time as he tried to coax the FireDragon hatchling into eating a raw piece of chicken.
Bob had named the hatchling She, because he lacked any sort of imagination, and couldn't be bothered looking up a real name for her on the Universal Database. Besides, he wouldn't have her all that long. Just until he found her HeatStone, and she was old enough to live in the wild on her own. He didn't want to get too attached to She, otherwise he imagined it would be hard to let her go.
Billy sat on the bench, swishing his tail delicately, watching with amusement as She refused all efforts to be fed. He himself knew that dragons did not like chicken - they preferred raw steaks of cow, though they would settle with goat or pig, but never chicken; dragons had a strange affection for things that had wings, whether they could fly or not. Instead of telling Bob this, however, he enjoyed watching the poor man struggle.
Bob frowned, biting his lip. The piece of chicken was untouched. "Maybe they don't eat meat. No, no I'm sure they do. Come on, little She, just a little bite," he grumbled. They hadn’t taught him how to feed dragons at the academy.
She snorted, turning her nose up with a throaty croak. Stretching, much like a cat, she began exploring the house. She knocked over vases and small ornaments, and her talons scratched the wood and tiles with a screech that set Bob’s teeth on edge.
Billy trailed after She, preferring her company over Bob's. Or perhaps he was just making sure the hatchling didn't mark anything that was his. The two did a whole sweep of the house before She decided she would claim Bob's bed. She curled up on one of the pillows, kneading it out, and went to sleep.
Billy went back to Bob, who was at his computer. He'd started the search for She's HeatStone as soon as he'd arrived home, but there had been no reports of fires, apart from the house in Bob's street, which had been caused by a passing fledgling (it had had a coughing fit, the result of choking on a stout, just overhead), nor had anyone reported finding one.
Finding HeatStones (and WhetStones, if you worked in the Department of the Repossession of Missing WhetStones and their WaterDragons), was a tedious business that relied solely on news reports, and information as to where the dragon had been. As She was too young to speak, Bob had to find her HeatStone with the help of the news or a helpful citizen. The news, however, wasn't agreeable with Bob, and it seemed that all the helpful citizens from the Department of Helpful Citizens were on holidays.
There were a few reports of WhetStones being found in the far districts, and someone had found a den of EarthDragon hatchlings in their backyard.
“They scared off all the pretty birds,” Mrs Wimbleton had told the DragonPossessors. “My yard used to be a beautiful place.” But there were no reports of HeatStones or fires or even unusually hot weather, which was a common side effect.
"My bowl's empty," Billy said, leaping onto the desk. He was hungry.
Bob ignored him as he scrolled through the news. Unless the HeatStone had fallen in the ocean, someone would have had to have seen it by now. Bob didn't imagine it would be in the ocean anyway; She was too young to fly. She could glide, but that was all, and dragons can't glide over the ocean.
"Will you get me some food?" Billy's tail twitched impatiently. "Please?" He really hated having no thumbs.
"No. You can wait."
"What’s this? You’ve gotten yourself a pet dragon, illegally, may I add, and you’ve forgotten about your most treasured (and only) friend?" Billy drawled. “You hurt my feelings Robert, truly, you do.”
"I don't-" Bob was cut off by a sharp rap on the door. He stared at it, unmoving, until there was another knock.
Billy walked under Bob's feet as the man went and answered the door. Two men in HeatSafe suits (blazers and plain black socks and all) were standing there. They were both bald, with grim faces as though they were at their closest friend's funeral. "Robert Karson?" one of them asked.
Before Bob could answer, the other one took over. "We're from the Department of the Investigation of Illegal Dragon Possession and Trade.” They flashed their shiny I.D.s at him, to quell any doubts. “We’ve received an anonymous tip that you were in possession of a FireDragon hatchling."
Bob, shocked, was unable to say anything. Had Manfred sold him out? "Well, we don't have a dragon," Billy drawled.
"We were told differently," one of the men said. He peered at the two with suspicion. "May we come in?"
"Why?" Bob asked. "You'll find no dragon in here!"
"Then you've got nothing to worry about." The men shoved Bob aside and sauntered into the house as though they’d visited hundreds of times before, and were more than welcome. In fact, they were less than welcome.
"Do you have any family Bob?"
"No."
"Any friends? Aside from your cat?" The man threw a sidewards glance at Billy, who was busy cleaning himself, as the other suit inspected the house. He hadn't reached the bedroom yet, but it was only a matter of time, and he’d discover She. Bob didn’t have time to wondere how they had found out he had a dragon; he needed to get her out before they found her. He’d lose everything if they discovered She.
"Well... no."
"So you've got nothing to lose..."
"Yes I do!" Bob exclaimed. "I've got a job, and a house, and a cat! I don't want to lose that!" Well, he probably wouldn’t notice too much if Billy disappeared. Or perhaps he would. The cat was a misanthrope, but he was Bob’s life-companion, and only friend (even if only by default).
The other man was approaching the bedroom, and Bob's heart pounded in his chest. They would find She, and he would lose everything he had. Panicking, Bob grabbed the first thing he could find (a small marble statue of a FireDragon, stretched out to the sky with its wings half beat, and a great plume of flame erupting from its mouth), just as the man reached the bedroom. His eyes widened like saucers as he spotted the snoozing hatchling, and Bob took his chance. He thumped the man next to him over the head, and the man dropped to the floor, unconscious. The other man saw him coming, and grabbed for his gun, but not in time, and he too was whacked over the head.
"That was very illegal," Billy drawled. He wasn’t bothered in the least. “Now look what you’ve done.”
"Shut up!” Bob snapped. He was really panicking. What would he do? Where would he go? “We have to go. Oh, what have I done? I told you that dragon was a bad idea!"
Billy padded over to the bed, where She had woken up, and was now yowling. He seated himself next to her, and began to lick his paw delicately. "Oh dear, oh no, why didn't you just listen to yourself?" His words were dripping with sarcasm.
"It's too late now. We'll take She, and we'll run, okay?"
"Yes, let's go, before more men come and arrest you for assault, and being in possession of a FireDragon.” Billy added. “Every suit from here to Kamenburg will be looking for you. But what’s a count of evading the authorities to you? You’re public enemy number one."
And so it was, Robert Karson became the most wanted man in the 27 districts.