VII

Lee arrived within the hour after receiving a panicked phone call from a lady inside the Newman Post Office. When he arrived, he found Balto sleeping peacefully in the farthest corner, dirtier and bloodier and when he had left him. There was even a little trail of blood specks leading to the dragon.

“Mr. Watson?” a voice said from the counter.

“What happened?” Lee asked the woman at the front counter. At least it wasn’t the old man this time. He might’ve let the poor dragon suffer a little longer.

“I don’t know,” she answered with a shrug. “He came in, said ‘help’, and fell asleep. I gave him some water and he told me to call this number and he went over there and fell asleep again. I hope he’s okay. Balto’s such a good boy.”

“He’s not a dog,” Lee snapped quietly, showing her a discomforting grimace, and made his way to Balto. Kneeling down and touching the dragon’s head lightly, he whispered, “Wake…”

The dragon flailed with all of his limbs, scratching Lee’s leg through his jeans and smacking him in the head with his tail a few times until the man grabbed the dragon’s front paws and shouted, “Balto!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The dragon’s whole body went limp. His ears flattened and squeezed his eyes shut.

The man repeated the dragon’s name again, this time quieter and letting go of his forearms. Balto pulled all of his paws closer and protected his head again, trembling.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled. “I’m late...I’m late...I’m sorry…”

“Balto, calm down,” Lee started, “it’s just me here. It’s just Lee.”

The dragon hyperventilated for a moment before lowering his wing to look at the man.

“I’m...I’m late...I’m sorry...Dad tore it up...and now I’m late and I slept too much but I’m still so tired and I’m hungry and tired and I dropped them and I fell and I’m just so tired!”

“Shhshhshh…” Lee moved around and cradled the dragon’s head in his lap, rubbing behind his ears and horns kindly. Balto’s breathing finally stabilized into labored heaving and then finally an affectionate purr. His heart raced, pounding so hard Lee felt it on his leg. “I know. I know you are. It’ll be okay. Let’s get off the floor, give this nice lady their mail, and take you home…”

Balto’s head lurched up and he shook it repeatedly, feeling dizzy the whole time. He put his head back down, rubbing the sides of his head with a pained squint. “No, no, no...Father will know! He’ll know I was late and he’ll figure out why I was late and he’ll take your book away again!”

“Balto...I can get another one for you, but you’re hurt. Your back is bleeding. Your leg might be broken. You’re dirty.”

“I’m not supposed to talk to you though!” Balto’s head almost came back up, but Lee kept him down.

“Relax, Balto. We can finish the route this time too and when you get home, I’ll drop you off at the gate. You can say a good samaritan helped you home after you fell. You don’t have to tell them anything about me. I’m sure your father won’t mind that you were late if he finds out you were injured while flying.”

He didn’t seem concerned yesterday at all…

Balto nodded. “Can...can I sleep in your truck?”

Lee smirked and nodded. “Yes, you can sleep in my truck. Go get in while I clean up this blood.”

“I’m...I’m really sorry…”

“I’ll make sure the lady knows that you’re sorry.”

Balto nodded and went to Lee’s truck outside,, scrambled upwards, collapsed in the bed, and immediately fell asleep despite the uncomfortable grooves beneath him.

+++

"Why are you crying?"

"I miss my mom and dad..."

The man ran a hand over his head and behind an ear.

"Why don't you come home with me? You can meet my wife and kids. They're only a little older than you. Susie's always liked dragons."

He looked at the man, nodded, and asked, "Can I leave a note for my mom...in case she comes back?"

"Of course…"

+++

Balto was stumbling towards the front gate leading home when a car pulled up to the gate hurriedly, nearly running into him. After the road dust cleared, Balto recognized Father’s car and the same man climbing out. He rubbed his eyes as he leaned on his open door.

“Get in,” Father demanded. “And don’t scratch up my seats.” Balto looked hesitantly at the car for a moment before rushing over to the passenger side door. As he tried to pull the handle, the door locked and Father snapped, “Backseat!”

The dragon obeyed and squeezed into the backseat.

“Where...where are we going?”

“Don’t talk.”

And so he didn’t. The dragon, wedged awkwardly between the front seats and the rear seats, trying his best not to touch either with his claws. Remaining quietly stalwart, he occasionally looked into the rearview mirror to look at Father’s greying eyes.

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They sped through gravelly back roads and between towns. Balto watched the clock in the radio change over the course of an hour-long drive. He did not recognize anything around them by the time they stopped, though it was familiar simply because of the corn and wheat farmland. Otherwise, it was a foreign place to him.

It made the young dragon uneasy.

“Where...where are we?”

Father did not answer. He climbed out and said as he went towards the trunk, “Get out of the car.”

Balto did as he was told. Father, leaving the trunk open, brought a chain of metal links with large circles at both ends. He pulled the chain through one of the circles, making another circle out of the chain.

Father tossed it down at Balto’s feet and he said, “Put it on.” The man reached into his pocket for nothing in particular and lit the cigar in his mouth with a match, leaning casually against his car.

The dragon looked at it curiously before putting it around one of his forelegs and looking up at his father hopefully...anxiously.

The man smirked, dropped some ash to the ground, and said, “Let me help.”

Balto felt the edge of his nervousness ease with Father’s voice. It was sincere and loving and careful, and the way Father came to Balto’s front, affectionately rubbing behind his horns and ear...the dragon felt...better…

“Like this,” Father said, taking the chain from Balto…

Balto flinched backwards when the circle was heading towards his snout. He made a confused noise, but Father simply said, “Trust me, Balto. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

The dragon made the same noise, but brought his head back down, letting Father put the chain over his head.

“But my horns…” Balto started, but the circle of metal was already past them. It was an incredibly tight fit, especially when it passed over his horns. There was no way he was taking it off alone. “How will I take it off?” He tugged on the smaller metal ring that was unable to pass through its twin. There was hardly any space between the chain and his neck.

“You won’t,” Father said, face concealed in shadow with his back to the sun. He touched Balto’s face kindly before returning to the trunk. Balto felt difficulty breathing with the metal chain touching his neck.

“I don’t understand…” Balto tugged a little harder and felt the chain constrict around his throat harshly, pinching his scales between the links and cutting off the air to his lung. The dragon hissed at the feeling and grabbed the chain in a panic, pulling at it, yanking it, growling at it.

Father slammed the trunk shut, looked over at the sun, and said, “Can’t breathe very well, huh?”

Balto shook his head. “Please help me take it off.”

The dragon looked at Father’s hand and saw something square, but the glare of the sun’s light made it impossible to see.

“I got several phone calls today,” he said coolly. “First, a man named Bunsen...he said something about you scratching his truck.”

“I helped him get home,” Balto retorted. “He asked me to…”

“He’s billing me a hundred dollars for the damages. Then I get a call from some negro named Barrett saying you were running around scarin’ people.” Father came a little closer.

“I...I didn’t mean too...I was in a hurry…”

“None of that really means a whole lot to me, Balto. Bunsen isn't getting a penny out of me and I couldn't care less if that nigger's scared of you.”

The dragon felt sweet relief ease his trembling legs.

“What I care about is that those calls came from Carville...at one in the afternoon.” Father stepped forward again, invading Balto’s space and forcing the dragon backwards awkwardly, sending him onto his back. “And another call from the Newman Post Office...around two o’clock…”

“Dad...I...I fell...I fell when I was fly…”

Father held up his hand, spit out his cigar end, and stomped on it very close to Balto’s hind leg. He flinched the leg away but Father quickly put his foot on the dragon’s tail instead as it motioned back and forth. Balto yelped.

“Harry found the book. You kept it...pulled it out of the trashcan like a fuckin’ nigger and taped it back up. Did I fuckin’ say you could keep it?”

“Dad...I...I just…”

“Stop calling me that,” the man snarled. “I’m not your father. My wife is not your mother. I’m your owner. I own you. You are property. I feed you. I house you. I have fed you and homed you your entire little life! And all you have ever had to do is deliver some fuckin’ mail for us on time. That's all." Father put pressure onto Balto's tail, making the dragon cry painfully. "You’ve proven how ungrateful you really are. Sleeping in all the time. Back-talking me. Disobeying me. I’ve given you enough leeway.”

“Father…”

“My name is George! George Humphrey!! You are to call me Mr. Humphrey!! I AM NOT YOUR FATHER!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! YOU ARE A PET, OR ARE YOU JUST ANOTHER STUPID MONGREL LIZARD THAT SHOULD BE PUT DOWN?!”

Balto trembled beneath the man and nodded, “I...I understand!”

“What was that?!”

“I understand, Mr. Humphrey, sir!”

"WHAT ARE YOU?!"

"I am a pet!"

“Good boy!” The man spit onto Balto’s snout, pushed on his tail one last time, and stepped away from the dragon, keeping his eyes on him the whole time. “From now on, when you leave my property, you will wear a star on your collar. It will have our address and our phone number. I’ve told local police stations to bring you home if you ever try to leave without it.”

“But…” Balto started.

“Shut up. You will speak only when given permission. You will eat when we say you can, read what I say you can, and with the collar, you will only breathe when I let you.” Father struck a new match and held it under the rectangle he had been holding.

When it caught fire so quickly, the dragon knew.

“No!” he screamed, leaping forward to grab the book from Father’s hand. The man side stepped easily, but dropped the book and struck the dragon in the head with his hand.

Balto slid along the ground, dazed by the blow, and as he looked around confusedly, he felt something sharp hit him in the ribs. A kick.

Then another…

...and another…

“Dad, please…” he coughed, curling up.

“I’M! NOT! YOUR! FUCKING! FATHER!!” The man grabbed the loose ring and choked the dragon with it. Balto gasped and flailed and choked. His claw caught on a pant leg, ripping it open.

Instinctively, Balto covered his head with his wing, but Father...Mr. Humphrey yanked it aside and punched the dragon in the head.

Only once…

...but Balto mewled obediently...fearfully…

...and watched helplessly as Lee’s book burned to ash.

“If you ever disobey me again, I will hang you by that fucking collar.”

Balto watched helplessly...