Now the talking-head commentators on TV were saying it could never have lasted more than that.
Newsreel footage and a few recordings of the Silver River negotiations made up most of what modern agencies knew about dragon diplomacy. Only a few of the people who had been at those negotiations were still alive. While people like Kay’s mother had been trained to deal with dragons, none of them had any experience. No one knew how to negotiate with the dragons further, because, after the Silver River Treaty, the monsters retreated and never spoke to anyone again.
Still licking its wounds from World War II, humanity had been unprepared. The creatures were supposed to be myths, legends, something invented by the unenlightened to explain the odd dinosaur fossil. Even after the horrors of the war, of the Holocaust, of atomic weapons, no one had been prepared for the dragons that rose from a long sleep in the earth.
It had been clear that the two sides could annihilate each other. The new weapons, machine guns, and high explosives could kill dragons when little else in human history had succeeded. But the dragons still had their fire and their sheer size, speed, agility. Kill one, and another would burn a city to the ground in revenge. A continuing war between the two species meant destruction for both, so they’d reached the compromise.
People asked: Dragons lived long lives, so were any of the ones involved in the original treaty negotiation still alive? Why didn’t they try to talk as they had before? Didn’t they remember? Or did they not care? Did they want to fight as well?
The pundits kept saying that no one knew how to talk to the dragons; most of the people who’d been alive then were now dead. If the dragons didn’t want to talk, they said, the humans had no choice but to defend themselves. But Kay knew they were wrong.
She knew how to talk to at least one of them, if only she dared tell anyone. And if only she could be sure she and Artegal would see each other again.
It was early when the jet, the F-22, flew out again. Kay was in the parking lot at school locking up her Jeep when a roar boomed over the town. She couldn’t see the border or the dragon sentinels from where she was, but she followed the jet’s sound to that direction. She spotted a contrail, but the jet was already gone, headed toward the border.
Everyone outside the school had stopped to stare at the northern sky, knowing what was happening.
Kay heard the first-period warning bell ring, but she didn’t care. She ran to the cafeteria, hoping the librarian still had the TV out and still had it turned to the news. She wanted to yell, What’s happening? Is anything happening? There was already a crowd of teachers and students gathered around the TV at the front of the big room.
Kay peered over a dozen heads to see the screen. The sound was turned up loud enough that she could hear easily. A reporter was talking over video footage of the three dragons across the border, the same scene they’d been watching for days now. The man sounded excited and spoke too quickly.
“…ten minutes ago. It’s presumed to be the F-22 jet fighter described at yesterday’s press conference. It was traveling very fast, and it passed, I don’t know, it must have passed within a mile of the dragons that have been stationed within view of Silver River for several days now. It continued on and is now out of sight. We’re still waiting for some reaction from them. And—what’s happening? I’m trying to talk to someone at the location….”
But those watching the live video could see what was happening without the chatty commentary. The dragons—the mottled one first, then the green, then the blue—roused themselves. They shook their heads, stretched their necks as if waking from a sleep—had they really been asleep all that time? Turning their pointed snouts to the sky, they spread their wings wide and launched. They seemed to fall off the rock gracefully, like divers. Then their wide wings caught the air, and they sailed, one after the other, spinning into the sky. They were big, bigger than the jet, even. But their flight seemed to take little effort. Air bladders, biologists said. Maybe even filled with helium, the only way to keep such bulk aloft. They flew after the jet. Sunlight shimmered off their scales.
They were so beautiful.
She felt a hand on her back and turned, startled. Jon was at school today. He glanced at her then returned to watching the TV.
They were all thinking, What will happen now?
“You okay?” Jon asked.
“Yeah, just a second.” Kay pulled out her cell phone and called her mother. They weren’t supposed to use their phones during class hours, but none of the adults stopped her. In fact, a few of the teachers and kids watched her anxiously. Small town—they knew who her parents were.
She wandered a few paces and turned her back to them to try to get some privacy.
Her mother didn’t even say hello. “Kay, are you okay, is everything okay?”
“I was going to ask you that,” she said. “I’ve been watching the news at school.”
“I don’t know anything. Malmstrom Air Force Base isn’t returning calls. Honey, I have a call waiting on the other line. I only took this call because it was you. If I find out anything I can tell you, I’ll call, I promise.”
“Okay, Mom. Thanks. Be careful, okay?” That was a stupid thing to say—her mother wasn’t actually doing anything dangerous except talking to bureaucrats.
“I love you,” her mother said, and clicked off the line.
She turned to the eager faces looking back at her and shook her head. “My mom doesn’t know anything. Sorry.”
Now, the scene on the TV screen was empty. No jet, no dragons, nothing happening. The news repeated video of the jet speeding past, the diamond-shaped craft flying at low level, close to the mountain where the dragons sat, wagging back and forth as if to tease them. Then the reporter came on-screen, his face a determined blank, and started talking, saying little in particular.
Students and teachers drifted away. Kay didn’t know what to think. If anything was going to happen, it would happen soon. Maybe they’d hear the alarm, and maybe it would be for real this time.
Then again, maybe the military was right. Maybe the dragons wouldn’t do anything. Nobody had any way of knowing. Kay just about decided then and there to go over the border that afternoon, on the chance that Artegal may be there.
She sneaked into first period late. The teacher gave her a look, but didn’t say anything. Kay pretended to pay attention and not worry.
But that afternoon, Kay’s mother called her. Kay had left her phone on and took the call in class. Math this time, and Mr. Kelly gave her a dirty look, but Kay said, “It’s my mom,” and ducked into the hall.
“Hi, Mom?” she said, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
“Kay? Kay, I want you to go home right now. Go home and stay there. I need to know where you are.”
Somehow this was worse than the siren, worse than the drills, worse than thinking about the worst that could happen. Kay had never heard such concern, almost panic, in her mother’s voice.
“What happened? What’s going on?”
She took a deep breath, a tense pause, and said, “Three more jets crossed the border.”
“Why?” Kay said, confused. It was the first thing she thought. It made no sense. Not unless they really were trying to start a war.
Mom didn’t bother answering. “Until we know what’s happening, I want you to go home.”