The Sasquatch Escape (The Imaginary Veterinary) (5 page)

He leaned closer and discovered a problem with
his bat theory. Bats were mammals and covered with fur. This thing was covered with glossy scales.

And of course, bats didn’t spout fire. As far as Ben knew, no animals spouted fire. No
real
animals.

“Ben? Your mother’s on the phone.” Grandpa Abe rapped on the door. “Be a good boy and come talk to your mother.”

“Okay.” Ben didn’t want to leave the creature, which coughed again and looked up at him with half-closed eyes. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered. He closed the bedroom window so the killer cat couldn’t sneak back in, and he made sure to close the bedroom door, too. He didn’t mention the bat to his grandfather, who was putting away groceries. “You can’t keep a fire-breathing bat,” he’d surely say. “It’s too dangerous. It’ll burn your ears off.”

No need to tell him just yet. A fire-breathing bat was a pretty cool thing to find, and Ben wanted to spend a bit more time with it before he turned it over to an adult.

“Hello?” Ben said as he picked up the phone
receiver. The phone was one of the old-fashioned kind that attached to the wall.

“Hi, Benjamin,” his mother chirped. “I just wanted to see how things were going. Is your grandfather feeding you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Be sure to help him carry things. And be sure to help him with the chores around the house. He’s getting old. And be sure to keep your room clean, and be sure to brush your teeth, and be sure to…” She paused. “Oh, just have fun. I want you to have lots and lots of fun.”

“I will,” Ben said, his gaze fixed on his bedroom door.

“You’re not still mad that we sent you there, are you?” Silence filled the line.

If asked that question five minutes ago, Ben would have told his mother that yes, he was really mad that she’d sent him to stay in a boring town in the middle of nowhere with a grandfather he barely knew. But with a fire-breathing bat lying on his bed—well, that changed everything.

“I’m not mad,” Ben said. Barnaby the cat pawed at the bedroom door. Then he pressed his barrel-shaped body against the wood, a low growl vibrating as he pushed, trying to get in. “Uh, I gotta go, but don’t worry so much, Mom. I’m fine.”

“Okay, sweetie. Your father and I just want you to know that we love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye.” Ben hung up. “Shoo,” he said waving his hands. “Shoo.” The cat flicked his tail, then moseyed over to his water bowl. Ben cracked open the door and peered into the bedroom. The little creature lay in the exact same spot on the bed, licking its injured wing. “Grandpa Abe, are there any animal doctors in Buttonville?”

“Apparently, we have a worm doctor,” Grandpa Abe said as he set a bag of potato chips in the cupboard. “This we need? A worm doctor?”

“Yeah, but are there any other doctors? You
know”—Ben searched his brain for the word—“a veterinarian?” He tried to keep his voice from trembling with excitement. “Just in case my hamster gets sick or something like that. Not for any other reason.”

Grandpa Abe shook his head. “We should be so lucky to have a veterinarian in Buttonville. The nearest one’s a four-hour drive. Took Barnaby there a few months back when he got a bellyache from eating too many mice. That cat loves mice.”

Barnaby wound between Ben’s ankles, rubbing his cheeks against Ben’s jeans. “I’m going to finish unpacking,” Ben told his grandfather. He didn’t want to seem rude, so he added, “And I’m going to keep the door closed so Barnaby doesn’t get in and eat my hamster.”

“Okay by me,” Grandpa Abe said. He leaned across the counter and turned on the radio. Music from days gone by filled the kitchen. Grandpa Abe tapped his foot and hummed along to the swinging rhythm.

With the bedroom door shut tight, Ben knelt
beside the bed. The creature’s eyes were closed; its little chest rose and fell in quick breaths. A wheezy sound came out of its snout. Ben frowned. The nearest veterinarian was four hours away. Grandpa Abe would have to drive there, but that would mean telling him about the fire-breathing bat.

The little creature suddenly rolled over. Was that a tail? Ben reached out cautiously, smoothing the quilt so he could get a better look. It
was
a tail. A long, barbed tail. He sat back on his heels, a huge grin spreading across his face. His whole body tingled.

Bats didn’t have barbed tails. Bats didn’t have scales. Bats didn’t breathe fire.

As impossible as it seemed, Ben knew what lay on his bed.

I
’m going to take a nap,” Grandpa Abe announced as he patted his belly. He grabbed his cane and shuffled across the crumb-coated kitchen floor. Ben had eaten a bologna sandwich and a pickle for lunch, but he didn’t remember chewing or tasting them. He’d been thinking about the baby dragon that was lying on his bed. How long could it survive without help?

The red-haired man with the dragon’s milk recipe had said he worked at the old button factory.
A person with a dragon’s milk recipe might be a person who knows a thing or two about dragons. “Grandpa?”

“Hmmm?” Grandpa Abe settled on the patched couch. He stretched out his long, skinny legs and rested his head on a moth-nibbled pillow.

“Can I go for a walk?”

“Can you go for a walk? Of course you can go for a walk.”

“Thanks.” Back home, Ben wasn’t allowed to go on walks alone. Too much traffic, too many strangers. Plus, everything was so spread out in Los Angeles, it could take an hour just to get to the mall. But if Ben stood on Main Street in Buttonville, he could see from one end of town to the other. There was no way he’d get lost.

As Ben added his lunch plate to the pile in the sink, he remembered that he’d promised his mother to help with the chores. “I’ll wash these when I get back,” he said.

“Okay by me.” Grandpa Abe closed his eyes.
“I’ll be heading to the senior center later. There’s an extra key to the house under the welcome mat, just in case I’m not here when you get back.” He rolled onto his side.

“Okay.”

Ben found a cookie tin on the kitchen counter. He shook out the crumbs, then set folded sheets of paper towels inside. After grabbing a rusty spatula, he hurried into his room.

The creature lay on the quilt, its eyes still closed. Ben slid the spatula under the creature, gently lifted it, and set it on the bed of paper towels. For a moment, he worried about the flammability of the paper. But no sparks shot out of the creature’s snout. “Don’t be scared,” he whispered. He put the lid on the tin, then carried it into the living room.

Snores streamed out of Grandpa Abe’s half-open mouth. Barnaby perched on Grandpa’s chest, leisurely cleaning his front paws. He seemed to have forgotten about the wounded creature he’d
abandoned on Ben’s bed, and he paid no attention as Ben tiptoed past and out the front door. Ben glanced back, just to make sure his bedroom door was closed tight.

Gripping the cookie tin, Ben set off down the sidewalk. Town Hall loomed in the distance, guiding the way back to Main Street. In just a few minutes, Ben stood in front of the Dollar Store.

He barely knew Pearl Petal, but he needed her help. Even though Grandpa Abe had called Pearl a troublemaker, Ben felt he could trust her. After all, they’d both seen the giant bird and she’d mouthed the word
dragon
. She’d told him that the giant bird lived on the roof of the old button factory. And she’d said she was going to investigate. If she took him to the factory, maybe they’d find the red-haired man who’d said he worked there. Ben hoped she hadn’t left already.

The Dollar Store’s front window was stacked with all sorts of stuff you could buy for a dollar: baskets, beach balls, bags of tortilla chips, and brooms. Voices drifted from the open window above
the store. Glasses and silverware clinked.

“Hello?” Ben called. A head of blond hair poked out the window.

“Hey, it’s you.” Pearl looked down at him. “What’s that you’re carrying?”

Ben put the cookie tin behind his back. “Are you still going to the old button factory? To find that…
bird
?”

“Yeah, as soon as I finish lunch.” She smiled. “You want to go with me?”

“Yes, because…” Ben tapped his feet, then looked around. The sidewalk was empty. The nearest pair of ears belonged to a woman who was walking her dog across the street. “I found something,” he told Pearl.

Pearl disappeared. A few moments later, the
OPEN
sign rattled as she burst out the front door. “What did you find?” she asked, her eyes wide with expectation. A checkered napkin was tucked into her T-shirt.

Ben narrowed his eyes. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Yeah, okay. I promise,” she said, holding up her hand as if swearing an oath.

“Because if you tell your mom or your dad, they might take it away.”

“I said I promise. I always keep my promises.”

Ben lowered his voice. Then he slowly slid the tin out from behind his back. “Remember how you said that the bird looked like a dragon?”

Pearl nodded. Her eyes got so big they looked like they might pop right off her face. “Did you find dragon poop?”

“No. Something better.”

Very carefully, so as not to startle the creature, Ben pulled off the lid.

“Is that a toy?” Pearl asked as she leaned closer. Then she inhaled so long and hard that if any bugs had been flying around, they surely would have been sucked into her mouth right between the big gap in her teeth. “Whoa! It’s breathing!” She reached out to touch the creature, but Ben pulled the tin away.

“Be careful. It shoots fire,” he explained. “Grandpa’s cat caught it. Its wing is torn.”

“Ben? Do you know what you’ve found?” Pearl’s green eyes sparkled as if they’d been dipped in glitter. “Do you?”

Ben swallowed hard. When he spoke, his voice was a bit shaky. “I think it’s a baby dragon.”

“It sure is.” Pearl smiled. “Do you think it belongs to the big dragon?”

“Maybe.”

“Then we have to get it back to its mother. We have to go to the button factory.”

Ben didn’t want to return the baby to its mother. He wanted to keep it. But he didn’t know how to take care of it.

“I’ve lived here all my life, and suddenly we have dragons in Buttonville. This is amazing.” Pearl looked over her shoulder. “Better put the lid back on so no one else sees it.” Ben did, and just in time, because a woman with hair as yellow as Pearl’s stuck her head out the upstairs window.