Dystopyum (The D-ot Hexalogy Book 1) (12 page)

“Good morning, son,” Griswolt said with gusto. The word “miracle”
came to mind again as his eyes followed Jan hopping up on a chair at the
kitchen table with him.
His scabs look much better today,
Griswolt
thought. He reached over the table and rubbed Jan’s crest affectionately.
“What would you like for breakfast?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Toast!” Jan announced, “With butter and suka!”
“Coming right up!” Griswolt said. He shortly rose and got it started,
thinking,
my family — just yesterday I thought that they were gone
forever, and now look —
life was good again. He made the toast and had a
seat with Jan at the table.
While he was eating his toast, Jan asked, “Can I go over to Rebecca’s
house?”
Martha had just come into the kitchen from the bathroom. Before
Griswolt could answer, she appeared concerned over Jan’s request,
asking, “You’re not going to try to run away again, are you?”
Griswolt’s head shot up, and said, “What?” However, he was ignored.
Jan looked at her and said, “No, that was — different. It’s all different
now, better!” He paused, turning his eyes to a thought. He looked at her
again and directly said, “You saved me yesterday, Mama,” and he got out
of his chair and went to her to give her a hug.
Martha responded with a big smile, returning the lovely hug. She
looked him over with a sad smile, “I’m still so very sorry about how I
treated you, Jan.” She gave him a once over.
“You
—
you do look different today, don’t you?” she said to the
beaming, smiling Jan, who was still looking up at her.
Jan was waiting for her answer, “Can we go?”
“Go wash up after you’re done eating, and we’ll go over to Rebecca’s
together,” Martha replied.
Griswolt had risen and was starting up some eggs for Martha now. He
was pretending not to be observing them, but he certainly was. He did not
want to interfere with any of this wonderful change. It made no sense, his
puzzlement amplified by his inability to put any reasonable pieces
together that might explain their reunion.
After Jan’s bath, they both went over to Rebecca’s house. Rebecca
answered the door. She did not look like she was recovering well, and
found it revolting to see both Jan and Martha holding hands.
“Hello Rebecca,” Martha said as she and Jan entered the house. She
squatted down to get closer to Rebecca, and asked, “How are you doing,
dear?”
Rebecca stepped back as Martha reached out to touch her arm. Her
face changed from just dismal to stern. She was wearing the same, tootight gray suede overalls she had on yesterday. Rebecca averted Martha’s
caring gaze by dropping her eyes to the floor, arms crossed. She did not
answer.
Martha looked at her in sympathy. Still squatting, she pulled her
outstretched hand back. “Is there anything I can do for you, Rebecca?”
she asked.
“No,” was Rebecca’s reflexive response. Rebecca did not look up, but
said, “I want Jan to stay with me here — we won’t run away.” She still
held the same facial expression.
Jan had been soaking this all up. He knew where Rebecca’s attitude
was coming from, and it frightened him a little. He did not ever want to
go “there” again. He felt badly just looking at her. Rebecca did not look
any better than yesterday, while
his
whole world had changed overnight.
“We’ll be OK, Mama,” he said to Martha. “You know I won’t run away
now, don’t you?”
Martha stood up, and said, “Let’s all go inside for a bit, and we’ll
see.” They went down straight into the living room. Martha looked
around. The place was clean enough. She glanced at Rebecca.
I really
don’t have anything good to say to her, and she won’t hear me anyway.
She looked down at the two children with eye-ridges pursed, “I suppose it
will do Rebecca good to have some company here for a while. Jan, I want
you home for lunch. Why don’t you bring Rebecca with you?”
Rebecca, still not looking up, slightly turned and tilted her head. The
stern look on her face broke. Her thoughts turned toward a distant
memory.
“OK, Rebecca?” Jan asked, “Will you come over for lunch?”
Rebecca stirred, and started picking at a scab on her shoulder. “OK, I
guess.”
Martha smiled broadly, “Well, it’s settled then. Jan will have a guest
for lunch.” She looked around the immediate area again, and said, “All
right Jan, I’m going to leave now. Be good!” She knelt down to give Jan a
hug, and glanced at Rebecca, but Rebecca just backed away.
Sigh.
Martha
then went up the stairs to leave the house.
As soon as the door upstairs had opened and closed, Rebecca uncrossed her arms. “How can you stand her?” she hissed at Jan.
Jan was taken aback by Rebecca’s behavior. He thought about how he
completely agreed with her yesterday. “I feel different today, that’s all,”
he said. “I feel better.”
Rebecca looked at him. She looked confused. “You — look better.”
She paused to think about it, and then said, “And you look happy. Why?”
Jan was about to tell her about what happened the day before, and
realized that love-deprogramming school graduates were very conditioned
to report any love activity to the police.
I was going to turn my mother in
myself just yesterday. I have to show her, not tell her,
he thought to
himself.
Trying to think of something else to say, Jan changed the subject and
asked, “Did you find your knitting stuff yet?
Rebecca frowned. “No, my dad said that my mother threw them
away,” Rebecca replied. “What an idiot! I hate her! She’s ruined
everything!” Rebecca sniffed.
Jan came closer to her, and she jumped back.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed.
Her reaction startled Jan, and he stepped away from her. “OK, Rebecca, I know,” he said, nodding his head. He thought about it. “If there was
a way for me to help you feel better, would you want to try?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t want to feel better. I need to
remember that —” Her thoughts trailed off as she tried to define the
reason she did not want to be happy again.
Jan was perplexed.
How can I make her happy when she doesn’t want
to be happy?
“Are you sure you don’t want to be happy?” he asked.
Rebecca fidgeted, and said, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someday. A
long time from now.”
Jan was not to be blocked this easily. “Why not now, with me?” he
prodded.
Rebecca looked at him. He looked so happy when he arrived. She did
want to feel like that. “I guess it’s better than the way I feel now,” she
said. “OK, what do you want me to do?”
Jan then realized that he did not have a plan. He let his instincts guide
him, making it up as he went along.
“Let’s sit on the floor,” he decided. He went over to the middle of the
living room floor and Rebecca followed him. They sat down on the floor,
facing each other. Jan tried to remember how the Guide helped him. He
said, “Take my hand.” He reached out one hand, and waited for Rebecca
to take it.
She looked in fear at the outstretched hand of Jan’s. It might as well
have been on fire. “I can’t do it,” she said in dismay.
Jan leaned over and took hold of her hand.
Rebecca snarled, and grabbed his hand firmly, trying to bite it, but Jan
was too quick, and she only snagged it, drawing a thin line of blood along
the back of his hand.
Jan yanked his hand back, and jumped backwards. When he saw her
getting up, he ran behind the big overstuffed chair in the corner of the
room, hiding out of her view.
I’m getting tired of this,
he thought.
Rebecca was shocked at what she had just done. “What’s happening
to me?” she wailed up to the ceiling. “I can’t control myself!” She looked
over in the direction of where Jan was cowering behind the chair.
He’s
afraid of me, she thought. I am a monster now.
“Jan,” Rebecca called out, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to — I won’t do
it again.”
Jan was still ducking down behind the chair.
Rebecca tried again. “I won’t do it again, Jan. I don’t know what
happened.”
Jan was frightened now. He had seen the crazed look in her eyes, and
it reminded him of the school. It was still too fresh. “How do I know you
won’t bite me?” he asked, still behind the chair.
“I’ll be OK, I promise!” Rebecca responded. “Come out, Jan, I’m OK
now. Please?”
Jan warily came out from behind the chair.
Rebecca tried to produce a smile. “Let’s sit on the couch and try
again.”
Jan was not so sure of this, and asked, “Are you sure? I don’t know
now.”
“I don’t want to be an animal,” Rebecca said, with a sad look. Then
she looked up at Jan and said, “I think you were helping me.”
Jan looked her over. She seemed safe enough now. He took a deep
breath, “OK.” He smiled at her. “If you get scared, just let go of my
hands, all right? — if you get scared.” He wiped the bit of blood from his
hand onto his pants.
She timidly looked at Jan and said, “I’ll sit in my knitting chair instead of the couch, and you can hold my hands there. I think I’ll be all
right there.”
So they went over to her little chair, and Jan knelt down in front of
her to be at her level. He slowly and wordlessly reached out his hands,
and Rebecca hesitantly received them. They looked at each other, and
Rebecca slowly settled from her erect defensive posture into a more
relaxed state. They stayed this way, and Rebecca started to finally smile.
Jan realized something, and his face grew very sad.
Rebecca could see it, and asked, “What?”
Jan took a deep breath, and letting out a sigh, said, “You’re going to
go away forever when your mama comes home.” Shaking his head he
said, “I’m going to miss you.”
Rebecca’s expression changed. She showed a look of recognition on
her face, which then changed to an expression of great loss. She stood up,
and unexpectedly wailed, “I miss my mama!” She started crying, very
hard.
Jan stood up with her. Without thinking, dropping all guard, she fell
towards Jan with both arms over his shoulders, crying, head and tears, on
his shoulder.
Jan just held her while she cried. Slowly and gently, he patted her on
the back, just as he had done with his mother. Jan found himself staring
off — once again — into that place which had become all too familiar.
Love — and all that came with it, was all he had to give — and it was
exactly what Rebecca needed.

he passing of time did help. Jan had been back in school for a
month, along with Rebecca. Martha had returned to her job
over two weeks ago, working at Mineral Processing Plant 11B.
Other than fending off questions about love-deprogramming

school, things were getting back to normal. She was finishing up for the
day, when two NOV police, accompanied by her manager, came looking
for her. The manager pointed her out, and one of the police said, “You are
under arrest for committing the crime of love, and of being a member of
LERN.”

Martha was shocked. “What? That’s ridiculous! Where did you hear
such a thing?” she pleaded frantically.
They simply handcuffed her and escorted her out of the processing
plant, and into the rusty awaiting police wagon. When they arrived at the
station, they had Martha sit in a heavily guarded brightly lit white room
with others waiting to be processed on any number of charges. Some were
ordinary criminals, but a few were obviously LERN members. In the
interest of self-preservation, she stayed away from the other LERN
members.
After a few hours, they called Martha’s name, and took her to a small
dark room that held a table with two opposing chairs. The guard told her
to take a seat. There was a device on the table, which had some wires
attached to it. Two males came in, the interrogator and his assistant.
A feeling of helplessness would not do. Martha stiffened up, and was
ready to fight. “What’s this about?” Martha demanded.
The primary interrogator had a seat opposite Martha. “One of your
neighbors has identified you as a LERN member, and has given us good
reason to believe her intimate knowledge of your activities,” the
interrogator said.
Martha realized her worst fear — the fear that Salom would talk.
“Salom? Are you talking about Salom?”
“Yes,” the interrogator replied. “Your neighbor failed lovedeprogramming school. She has stated that you are a LERN member.”
What am I going to do?
Martha was not revealing the chill running
down her spine, or the fear that gripped her guts. “That’s the craziest
thing I’ve ever heard,” Martha retorted. “I hate love-lovers!” she said with
disgust.
The interrogator looked at her, in a bored way. “You all lie. I’ve
never seen one that didn’t.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t have the
time. We have a simple, quick way to get to the truth. Hold still.”
He made a nodding gesture to his assistant, and the latter proceeded to
attach the wires from the device on the table to Martha’s forehead and
wrists.
Martha looked at the device and wires with obvious distrust, and the
assistant ordered, “Don’t move.” The assistant appeared to be making
adjustments to the device, and finally looked at the interrogator, and said,
“She’s ready.”
The interrogator took a handful of photos out of his briefcase. “These
are photos of your son’s “lessons” while in love-deprogramming school. I
want you to look at each one closely.”
One by one, he held them each one in front of Martha’s face, long
enough to get a reading. As he did so, he kept a keen eye on the display of
the device sitting on the table.

Oh my God,
Martha thought.
He’s going to try to make me cry. I
won’t!
She sat stoically, cold as ice, as the pictures were shown.
It’s just
the past — it’s just the past. Focus, Martha, focus!

The interrogator stopped. “That’s it,” he said. He glanced at his assistant giving him a look. Then he said to Martha, “The machine doesn’t
lie.” He looked back at the assistant, and said, “Go get a guard, and bring
him here.” The assistant departed. The interrogator had been through this
enough times. There was always trouble when he gave the news. Still, he
could have a little fun before the guard arrived. She didn’t look like
that
much trouble. He looked at Martha, and said, “I am sorry, but you have
failed. You will be sentenced to DeathBT for the crime of love.”

Martha did not hear any words past the “I am sorry —” She jumped
up from the chair, tearing the wires from her arms and head. “No! You’re
all wrong!” she shouted. She started pacing back and forth in the small
room like a wild caged animal.
What can I do — how can I escape?
She
desperately searched for any means of escape. She looked at him, just
sitting there, on the other side of the table. He was leaning forward, hands
on the table, poised in an alert posture.
Is he enjoying this?

Her fear switched to rage.
Be smart, do it right.
Martha took a breath,
marched up to him, and in an instant, she pulled a dagger she usually had
hidden in her belt and nailed the startled interrogator’s right hand to the
table with it.

“There!” Martha screamed, “Is that the love you want to see, mother
fucker?” Snarling, she backed away from the table.
The interrogator shrieked, and pulled the knife out using his left hand,
just as the guard was entering the room with the assistant.
The large guard was outraged at the scene and immediately grabbed
Martha from behind. The interrogator was already making his way around
the table to get at Martha. When he reached her, he punched her in the
stomach with full force, causing her cry out and double over in pain.
When the guard held her back up for another go, the interrogator instead
stared at her blazing eyes glaring back at him. He paused a moment, as
she was catching her breath from the first blow. He stalled.
“Let her go,” the interrogator said, still gazing into Martha’s incensed
glare.
What?
thought Martha.
“What?” both the guard and the assistant said in disbelieving unison.
The interrogator tilted his head to the side, and then he looked down
at his wounded hand, supporting it with the other. He looked at the guard
and his assistant. They were still waiting for a reason. He then shrugged
his shoulders, sighed, and said, “She gave a good answer.” He turned his
attention back to Martha, and reiterated, “Good answer.”
Martha was simply stunned now. She was still catching her breath.
“Can I keep that?” the interrogator asked, pointing his good hand to
the bloody knife lying on the table.
Martha, still in shock, looked at him and stammered, “Yes — of
course.”
The assistant led Martha back out of the building, and Martha left for
home. It was nighttime now, and she took a bus. It was a small bus that
only had two contisses pulling it.
On the way, she fell into a deep depression. She found herself openly
staring at the people around her.
There’s no end to this. Why does it have
to be so bad? I can’t stand it — I can’t stand these people on this bus.
They are all so miserable looking, and why not? We’re living in hell here.
My son... his world...they are doomed to this horror.
Then she remembered her only hope.
The escape. Yes. It’s coming
and I will be there! We will leave with them.
She felt a little better
pondering the great escape LERN had been planning. Details were
sketchy because they were on a “need to know” basis. All she had heard
was that LERN was working to infiltrate the NOV’s sole vaccine
producing laboratory in order to escape into the wildlands.
There had been a primary laboratory for eighty years, with a second,
backup lab in Justilant. After the primary one became contaminated
beyond repair, they only had the backup lab to rely on. Plans had been
made for a new one, but with the economy the way it was, and the
anticipated dissolution of the one-hundred year poison, the investment did
not seem to be a priority.
The wildlands made up most of the planet. Just the thought of freedom lifted Martha’s spirits.
How long? How long?
The vaccines were
very difficult to develop, thus their great potential when withheld by
enemies. She did not understand the process, but she knew that it took
twenty years from start to finish in order to produce a batch of vaccine
from the beginning. She sighed again, leaning her head back for the ride
home.
By the time Martha arrived at home, it was rather late, and Griswolt
was there. When she came in, he was in the living room with Jan.
Martha had fallen. She really did not want to talk to anybody, and
said nothing when she had come inside. She simply went straight back to
the bedroom to change her clothes. Then she took a shower, which was
unusual in the evening.
Griswolt could hear her taking the shower. She had come home unusually late. He got up, and went to the bathroom to investigate. Opening
the door, he asked, “Where were you tonight?”
“Just leave me alone, I’ll tell you when I’m ready,” Martha coldly
said from the shower.
Griswolt felt challenged. She had been getting better, but this was
wrong. He had to make a stand. He raised his voice, “Tell me now, I want
to know!”
Martha was in no mood. “I said get out!” she screamed.
Griswolt was taken aback by her caustic response. “I’m really getting
tired of this,” he said under his breath. He backed out of the bathroom,
and walked down the hall, muttering, “She’s pushing it too far. This up
and down crap is starting to get old.” He grumbled his way back to the
living room to continue with a book he had started.
Jan was on the floor, reading. The homework load this year was demanding.
Griswolt looked at Jan, thinking. Martha had been cold to Griswolt
since coming back from love-deprogramming school — but with Jan it
was different. It was obvious that Martha and Jan were getting along very
well. Griswolt had a flash of resentment. He missed the “old Martha”.
Only Jan was privy to that side of her now.
Maybe I’ll send Jan to see
what’s going on with her.
Griswolt said to Jan, “After your mama gets out of the shower, would
you go and ask her about her day today? Can you find out why she was
late coming home?”
Jan looked up, and said “OK. I thought she was going to be coming
out here pretty soon.”
Griswolt took a furtive glance in the direction of their bedroom,
(which he still was not permitted to sleep in,) and said, “No, I don’t think
she’s in a hurry to do that. She won’t talk to me, and I need to know why
she came home so late.”
Griswolt had recently begun to entertain his own thoughts of escape.
I
am going to start looking for another place to live tomorrow. I may as
well be ready, I certainly can’t put up with this forever. It’s as if she’s
back to where she was a month ago. I’m sick of it.
He looked at Jan, and
leaned over and rubbed the gold striped crest on Jan’s head.
Those kids
are going to start giving you a rough time over this crest of yours,
he
thought in sympathy. “You need to go to self-defense school,” Griswolt
said.
Jan looked up at him with his big innocent eyes. Griswolt gave a sigh.
I can’t leave. You’re gonna need me around, son.
Then he thought —
maybe I can take you with me.
After Martha went back into the bedroom, Griswolt waited a short
while, and sent Jan to the bedroom to check on her.
In a half hour or so, Jan came back. He plunked down on the big
chair, and looked at the awaiting Griswolt. “She’s sad,” he said.
“Of course she’s sad, she’s always that way now,” Griswolt grunted.
“No, it’s worse now,” Jan said. “She wasn’t even friendly to me.” Jan
knew how differently Martha treated him compared to Griswolt. He
didn’t know why she was so cruel to his dad now, but she obviously was.
“I don’t think you should bother her tonight,” Jan opined.
Who is this kid to give me advice?
Griswolt thought. “I’m going to get
to the bottom of this! I want her to come out and tell me what her problem
is,” he said to Jan, with feigned authority.
They both stayed in the living room for another hour. Martha was still
in the bedroom. Griswolt worked up the nerve to go back to the bedroom
to pursue his quest for an answer. He opened the door, and Martha was
lying on the bed on her back, eyes closed. “What’s the matter with you
tonight?” Griswolt asked, upon entering the room.
Martha took a deep breath, and gave a long sigh. “It’s just — everything.” She sighed again. “I really don’t want to talk about it now —
maybe tomorrow.”
You’re the last one I want to be around right now.
She
sighed again.
My God, I was seconds away from being convicted of
committing love.
Then she realized —
thank you for saving me.
Her next
impression was —
how can stabbing someone in the hand be saving?
She
paused in her thoughts.
Thank you, anyway, just in case.
“You were gone all day and night, you’re acting like this, and you’re
not telling me anything!” Griswolt said roughly.
Martha was startled by his voice yanking her from her thoughts. In
spite of that, she was finding herself a little calmer now.
Just tell him,
she
told herself.
She opened her eyes, lifted her head up from the pillow, and glared at
Griswolt. “I was almost convicted of being a LERN member today,” she
blurted out, “OK? Leave me alone, I’m so sick of all this! Just leave me
alone.”
Griswolt was aghast. “You? In LERN? Where would they get a crazy
idea like th —” Then he remembered Salom. She was capable of saying
anything, just to stop the torture for a while. “Was it Salom?”
Martha gave a thought of Salom going through her own hell, and
started sobbing, saying, “Yes — yes, it was Salom.” After a few more
sobs, while Griswolt was formulating his next question, Martha continued, “It’s over now anyway, they let me go.”
Griswolt was relieved. His breathing loosened. “I’m so sorry you had
to go through that —”
“Yes,
had
to!” Martha yelled, sitting up. “I
had
to go through it because I
have
to live here with the insane, evil NOV!”
Griswolt bristled at such words. It bordered on criminal language
against the state. “You’re upset because of today, don’t talk like that.
Give it time,” he responded.
“Just get out!” Martha screamed, throwing a pillow at him. “I told
you to leave me alone!”
Griswolt, having his curiosity satisfied, went back to the living room
where Jan had fallen asleep. He carried Jan downstairs and tucked him
into bed. Then he went back up to his place on the sofa for the night.
The next morning came, and Jan woke and went upstairs to find his
mother in the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for the three of them. She
had called in to her job to tell them she would not be coming in. They
understood, considering. They were just happy that she wasn’t taken away
forever.
“Good morning, Mama,” Jan said, as he hopped up onto a chair at the
kitchen table.
“Good morning, Jan,” Martha replied. “I want you to have a raw egg
with your toast every morning now. We need to get more weight back on
you.”
“Yuk!” Jan said. Raw eggs were too strong tasting and slimy. Worse
yet, they reminded him of the names that they were calling him in school
now. “Egghead,” he said aloud.
“What?” Martha asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Jan replied. The kids in school had been saying that
his crest looked like a broken egg.
Rebecca likes my crest, though.
Jan
smiled, thinking about her.
Griswolt came into the room. He was showered and dressed for work.
He had smelled breakfast earlier as it was cooking, and was looking
forward to eating before leaving for the day. “Mmmm. That smells
good!” he said as he leaned over Martha’s shoulder to take a look.
“A little space please!” Martha barked.
Griswolt grumbled, and said, “I hope you’re making some for me!”
He started to glance at a report he had in his hand. He was still a bit
groggy, having not slept well.
Jan was observing as Martha’s pleasant demeanor changed with the
introduction of Griswolt’s presence. It was as if she hated him now. He
realized that it was her dragon.
Her dragon rises whenever Dad comes
near.
Even though she had already intended to make Griswolt’s breakfast,
Martha sighed as if he were asking for some heavy task, and asked, “How
many?”
“How many?” Griswolt asked, yawning and still rubbing some of the
sleep out of his eyes.
“How many eggs, you idiot!” Martha snapped.
Griswolt, startled and angered by her attitude first thing in the morning, shot back, “Fuck this!” He departed the kitchen with impulsive
resentment, and left for work without saying anything else.
When she heard the door slam, Martha turned the stove off and just
stood there, both hands on the stove, holding up her slumping body. “I
don’t know,” she said. “I try — but I can’t.”
Jan was sitting there, soaking this all in. He felt badly that his mama
was always angry with his dad. He wanted to help, but wasn’t sure how.
“What can’t you do, Mama?” he asked.
When Martha turned her head towards Jan, he could not help but see
the deeply unhappy look in her eyes. “I can’t stand your father, and I
don’t know why. I want to be nice to him. He has been so good to me.”
She paused. “To us.” Martha looked away, and was thinking aloud now.
She said, “I wanted this morning to be pleasant. Why is it, as soon as he
appeared, I got angry? Now he’s gone, and that angry person in me is
gone. But I know that when he comes back, that other person in me will
come back. I don’t know how to make it stop.”
It’s her dragon.
Jan just blurted it out, “It’s the dragon.”
Martha’s expression changed as if someone had splashed cold water
in her face. “What — where did you hear about the dragon?” She had
scripture that mentioned the dragon, but there was not much to go on. The
NOV preached the black dragon, but it was just superstitious propaganda.
“Daddy raises your dragon,” Jan said, matter-of-factly.
Martha was now in no little shock. “How do you know about the
dragon?” she asked again.
“I don’t know, I just do,” Jan replied, then continuing, “The school
raised my dragon, but I looked at it, and it went back down.” He nodded
reassuringly, “You’ll feel better when you do.” He did not know how else
to say it. He didn’t want to talk about the Guide for some reason, so he
just left it at that. He never told anyone, not even Rebecca, about the
Guide. There was no good way to describe him.
Martha just stared at Jan, a little spooked.
What an unusual kid,
she
thought. For some reason, she became frightened at the thought of the
dragon, and resented Jan for bringing it up. “Mind your own business.
You don’t know anything about this. Finish up your breakfast, you still
need to get dressed for school,” she said.
Jan obliged, and in short time was off to school. Martha was left with
the day all to herself. She started it by taking her morning shower.
Afterwards, she inspected the new scales coming in where the burns had
been before. She was still taking antibiotics for the infections that were
always looking for an entrance.
Martha had been to a few LERN meetings since school, and was
given helpful new copies of other writings as a recovery gift. She
retrieved her expanding collection and went into the living room to study
them. She poured over them, looking for references to the dragon. All she
could find there was that the dragon was the same for everyone, yet
different. Most were Aletian translations of Platac scriptures, and this was
one of them —