Zachary Pill, With Dragon Fear

By Tim Greaton

Awaiting news about his father and uncle on another world, Zachary Pill is resigned to hiding out in New Hampshire. But the dragon venom raging through his veins and a maelstrom of magical creatures soon force him to make difficult life and death decisions. The final straw comes when Gefarg the Troll decides to send his evil goons to Station End.

Will Zachary Pill and his friends survive the werewolf and orcs that are on their way?

You’ll find out in the pages of “With Dragon Fear.”

Patrick Jones: “This book is really FANTASTIC and it’s written with such a unique writing style.”
A.J. Grady, author of “Proof of God: An Ontological Adventure”: “It’s seldom you see fantasy written with such verve and panache.”
Edwin Stark, author of “Echo Station One,” “Cuentos,” and other novels: “...this book is greatly recommended... and it will get you more bang to your book at any price.”
These reviews are all posted on Amazon and refer to the complete trilogy.

Second book in the Zachary Pill series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Focus House Publishing
• Release date: Feb 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452434278

Tim Greaton

I live in Maine with my beautiful wife and three amazing children. We share 7-acres with 1 dog, 2 cats, and a population of ducks that varies with the weather. I'm a full-time corporate writer and novelist. My fiction, non-fiction and advertising work has appeared in forums all around the globe. A few months back, my novel "The Santa Shop ̈ was republished to Kindle and Nook. My pre-release novel "From My Cold Young Fingers ̈ (soon to be final-released as "Ripped From My Cold Young Fingers ̈) is also available on Kindle. "Zachary Pill, The Dragon at Station End, ̈ "Heroes With Fangs ̈ and my horror novel "Ancestor ̈ will also be available on Kindle in the next few months. My brother's publishing company refers to me as "Maine's Other Author TM ̈ but I prefer just Tim :-).

Book preview

Take that! he heard someone say. And that!

Gerald!

Zachary’s eyes shot toward the window where the slumber guard had pushed most of his plants out of the way. Sitting up, he found most of his leaf- and flower-filled shoots strewn across his bedroom floor with their clay pots scattered and broken. He knew they needed his help, but the greater priority was outside. He hurried to the slumber guard’s side to see Gerald standing on his catwalk with what looked to be a toy gun in his hands. Over his head, hundreds of bats swarmed like bees, and every few seconds one would dive toward his head.

How do you like that? Gerald blurted. A dark mass shot from his orange rifle and struck the nearest creature in the face. The bat squeaked, tumbled backwards for a moment then fluttered awkwardly up to rejoin its swarming brethren.

Terrified, Zachary tried to think.

Gerald needed him, but how could he go out there knowing that bats had driven him and his father from Boston, knowing that just showing his face outside might be all Krage needed to confirm his location?

Once again it came down to his safety versus the safety of his friends and neighbors. Feeling as much a coward as at any previous time in his life, Zachary quelled the flips his stomach was making and decided. He snatched the basically useless magic wand out of the closet and turned to entice the slumber guard to come with him. He need not have bothered, however, because the alligator was slithering right behind him. Together, they hurried across Madame Kloochie’s dining room, through the swinging kitchen door, and out the back.

1) Venomous Consequences

Zachary watched the paper flutter down to the floor where the vicious golden-red dragon image faded, leaving nothing but a blank sheet. He wanted to warn Bret not to touch any of the pictures but his mouth wouldn’t work. He felt as though a pump was forcing air through his ears, and the growing pressure inside his skull made him dizzy. His arms felt heavy and wouldn’t respond.

Distantly, he heard Bret say, Ar-Are you okay?

Within moments, the pressure in Zachary’s skull had grown into a full-fledged headache. He wanted to ask for help, but couldn’t move. Helpless, he could only watch as Bret stared back at him.

Z-Zach. Zach?

Zachary couldn’t answer, couldn’t even blink. His forehead throbbed and the tops of his shoulders began to burn. He tried again to speak but his jaw was locked in place. Had he turned to stone?

Wh-What’s wrong? Bret asked. C-Can’t you t-t-talk?

Unable to respond in any other way, Zachary shifted his eyes downward toward his pinky. Bret’s blue eyes followed his gaze and grew larger at the bite marks that they saw.

It-It bit you! Bret exclaimed. I-I’ll get Madame Kloochie!

By that time, Zachary’s burning shoulders had begun to itch as though being assailed by a thousand biting mosquitoes. Between that and his pounding head, he didn’t think he could stand much more. Bret had already gone. Rustling and banging noises coming from the dining room mingled with animal sounds on the floor all around him. How was it possible for pictures to be alive?

If only my Dad taught me more about magic!

He heard cabinets banging and drawers sliding in the next rooms. What was Madame Kloochie doing? Moments after the noise stopped, the big woman stomped into his room, strode past him and shoved him from behind.

Like an off balance statue, his body tipped forward. He imagined his face smashing into the floor—or worse, onto one of the biting snarling creature pictures—and tried unsuccessfully to close his frozen eyes as his body tilted onto the rigid tips of his sneakers. Zachary mentally braced himself for the coming pain.

Why was she doing this to him?

Don’t be so clumsy! Madame Kloochie barked as she yanked him backwards and upright.

Suddenly, Zachary felt better, much better. Both his headache and the itching had disappeared. His arms and legs were flexible again. He could even wiggle his toes.

A dragon picture bit me! he gasped.

Madame Kloochie spun him around and grabbed his hand to squint at his pinky.

It’s just a paper cut, she said.

I never heard of paper coming alive to do the job, Zachary countered. He shook his arms and bent down to rub his legs. Everything seemed to be working.

Madame Kloochie’s eyes swept across the room, pausing momentarily on his father’s box and the still moving creature pictures spread across the floor.

Nothing but trouble, she said. You’d be best off to throw all this crap right in the trash. She pointed to the cloth bag of marbles on his bed. And those little buggers are sure to be trouble. I’d toss every last one of them into the river.

You know what’s in the bag? Zachary asked, not sure if he should be angry at her for snooping or curious about what she knew.

I don’t have time for this, Madame Kloochie huffed as she tramped from his room.

Zachary thought he heard one of the pictures grunt as her heel struck it on her way out. Bret offered to help pick up the pictures, but Zachary could see his friend’s hand tremble as he reached for the first one.

Let me do it, he said to Bret, not wanting to put his friend in danger. Besides, it didn’t take long to gather up the picture sheets. Though many of the two-dimensional creatures hissed or growled, only a few lashed out with tiny paws or fangs, and he was easily able to avoid them by lifting each page by the corners. Soon he had the sheets stacked safely back into a pile.

I think that’s enough fun for one day. Zachary sucked a tiny bit of blood from the tip of his pinky.

Yeah, I should probably get home before my parents call, Bret said.

His friend’s stutter was gone once again, which Zachary took as a good sign.

In just a couple of minutes, the boys had returned everything to his father’s box so that Zachary could slide it back into the closet and close the door.

You okay? he asked Bret.

Bret friend smiled. Yeah, I’m alright but I am kind of hungry for instant noodles.

Just the thought of noodles reminded Zachary of the worm-filled spaghetti from Boston. That wasn’t a meal he ever intended to repeat.

See you tomorrow, Bret said.

After his friend left, Zachary cleaned Madame Kloochie’s evening mess, including the chocolate frosting she had smeared on the refrigerator and the jelly she had somehow gotten on the dining room ceiling. The whole time his finger ached. Though not deep, the tiny dragon bite was surprisingly painful. He finished up his day watering plants and pruned several leaves from a large peace lily he’d had since he was eight years old. Though he’d tried several locations, it still seemed to be getting too much light so he moved it to the top of his bureau, the side furthest from the window.

Too tired to change into pajamas, Zachary settled down onto his bed fully clothed and reached under his pillow for Robin’s picture. Even his throbbing finger couldn’t keep him from falling almost immediately to sleep…a sleep filled with horrible dreams…

From his perch atop the mountain, Zachary could see several creatures moving in the stormy green ocean below him. His studied their sleek movements and determined none were large enough to make a satisfying meal. Sniffing, he recognized the musk of something better, something bigger. He inhaled again and listened for the telltale sounds of claws scrabbling along the cliff face below him. At first he thought he might have been mistaken, but then he heard it again, several hundred feet beneath him. His stomach rumbling in anticipation, he spread his wings, leapt out and dove! Zachary rushed downward and saw his prey clinging to the mountainside. Fire shot from his lips and singed the creature’s black fur just before his claws ripped its shrieking form from the cliff. It was still screaming when his fangs pierced succulent warm flesh—

Horrified, Zachary struggled to wake! But instead the scene changed…

He was standing in a wide tunnel facing hundreds of dirty creatures with blue skin and bloated bodies. Though shorter than him, they had stout muscular physiques, and they held massive clubs and axes in thick grips. At any moment, he knew the trolls would attack. Unafraid, he opened his jaws and spewed fire at the first dozen—

Zachary jolted awake! Moonlight trickled through his plants in front of the window and left patches of light on the walls and ceiling. He could hear Madame Kloochie’s steady snoring from two rooms away. The horrible dreams faded as he lay there with his blanket pulled up around his chin. The clock on his bureau claimed it was four o’clock in the morning. He held his wounded finger up in the moonlight, but in the dimness couldn’t see any evidence that the golden-red dragon had bitten him at all. He gently rubbed his thumb across the injury.

It doesn’t hurt!

Had he imagined the whole thing?

Suddenly, the memory of biting into that poor animal filled his mind. He could still taste its burnt flesh! The thought made him gag. No, those dreams came from someplace, and he felt certain the dragon bite was to blame.

Desperate to get that aftertaste out of his mouth, he sat up, rubbed his cheeks and ran fingers through his green locks. Forcing himself to his feet, he gathered fresh clothes and hurried through the dark house to the bathroom where he kicked enough of Madame Kloochie’s dirty laundry away to make room in front of the sink. After brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth twice, he started to undress. First went his tee shirt, then his sneakers and socks, and finally Zachary stripped off his pants—

Pressure rushed into his skull!

Gasping, he recognized the pain from the dragon bite the day before. It grew more agonizing with every passing second. The fiery itch was also back and spreading across his shoulders like a thousand biting ants. He wanted to scratch, but more desperately needed the pain in his head to end. He had to do something!

Preparing to run for help, he yanked his pants up―

And the pain stopped. The itch also disappeared.

Relieved, Zachary splashed cold water on his face and shoulders. Something about his reflection caught his eye. Confused, he leaned into the mirror and saw a golden-red color staining his shoulders. When he tapped the discolored area, it thumped like wood.

Wood?

He ran fingers from his bare chest to his collarbone. Somewhere near his neck the skin grew stiff and hard. Zachary tapped again and prodded for several minutes, but he couldn’t find a seam. The hard covering blended right into his skin. He rubbed the textured surface and tried to remember why it felt so familiar. Then it came to him. His shoulders felt like the slumber guard’s hide! He must have caught a disease from the alligator the night the bats had attacked in Boston. Horrified, he wondered if that meant he, too, might turn hollow and half-dead. He thumped his shoulder again and shivered at the prospect. Staring at his discolored flesh, it made sense: the hard crust, the texture, everything but the color—

Zachary’s breath caught.

He knew where he had seen that color before. It was an image that would stay with him for a very long time. His shoulders had the same hues as the dragon from the picture. He hadn’t caught a disease from the slumber guard. No, he had contracted toxin the old fashioned way: through a bite―a paper dragon’s bite!

Forgetting the shower, Zachary yanked on a fresh tee shirt. He had to see Bret. He didn’t want to believe he was turning into a dragon but the nightmares from earlier supported his theory. He remembered the poor cliffhanging creature from his dreams, and the way he had scorched and crunched it down like a chicken dinner. His stomach roiled at the thought. He couldn’t let this happen. He had to do something—fast!

He stripped his pants down, and pain burst like a fire hose into his head! Doubling over with the ferocity of it, he struggled to breathe as his shoulders broke into a blazing itch. Zachary yanked his pants back up.

The agony stopped.

Slowly, he let the jeans fall again. Excruciating pressure swelled his skull. He pulled them up, and the distress ended. Knowing he couldn’t survive many more experiments, he came to a silly but obviously true conclusion: his blue jeans were magic. But who ever heard of magic jeans? And why would they have become magic all of the sudden? He had worn the same jeans dozens of times.

No, there had to be another explanation.

He groped around and discovered a lump in his back pocket, a pocket he never used. Reaching in, he drew out a black disc embossed with the image of an old man in flowing robes. The man leaned heavily on a staff and seemed to be standing against a hurricane wind. The image was so detailed that Zachary could see individual hairs on the old man’s beard. He flipped the medallion over and found the exact same view only from the back. The metal loop on top suggested the disc was meant to be hung from a chain. So how had it gotten into his pocket?

The answer was obvious: Madame Kloochie. She must have slipped it into his pocket after the dragon bit him, likely when she accidentally shoved him from behind. He flipped the coin over several times. Apparently it warded only against pain because it hadn’t stopped dragon scales from forming on his shoulders. And that probably also meant it would not keep him from turning the rest of the way into the fire-breathing monster from his dreams. Closing his hand around the medallion, he tried to force the nightmare of that midnight snack from his mind. But he could still hear the helpless creature’s screams and taste its charred flesh as he crunched its bones―

He had to do something!

Zachary finished changing then hurried to the living room where Madame Kloochie was just sitting up. Her hair, newly died purple, was matted down on one side like a damaged helmet, and drool had caused one corner of her thickly applied red lipstick to run like tomato sauce down her chin.

Did you put this in my pocket? He held up the medallion.

Why would I do something like that? she asked, a mocking grin curling her thick lips.

Look what happened to me. Zachary leaned down and pulled the collar of his tee shirt back so she could see the golden scales. He tapped on them, letting the hollow rapping further make his point.

Madame Kloochie shrugged. Could be worse.

Worse than turning into a dragon?

Suddenly, her face contorted in anger.

You’ve no idea what could be worse! Try skin like crust, immovable limbs, thoughts so slow they might not exist at all!

Zachary backed into the dining room. Though always borderline insane, she wasn’t usually quite so over-the-top angry. Then, as though nothing had happened, Madame Kloochie’s fury melted away. Calmly, she used her remote to change the TV from news to a cartoon.

You’re planning on opening the store on time, I hope, she said.

Sure, Zachary told her and returned to his room.

Even though she had to be the one who had slipped the wizard’s disc into his pocket, she obviously didn’t intend to talk about it. Sitting on his bed, he threaded a heavy string through the medallion’s loop then draped the resulting necklace around his neck. He paused to examine the old man on the pendant again.

Somehow the wizard had moved and now held his staff above his head!

Was it safe to wear? What if the tiny geezer tried to poke him with his staff, or worse? Knowing the alternative would be to have his head explode with pain again, Zachary sighed and let the amulet fall beneath his shirt. It wasn’t as though he had any choice.

I’m going to Bret’s for a few minutes, Zachary said as he hurried through the dining room.

Thinking Madame Kloochie wouldn’t be ready so early, he was surprised when her right arm snapped back and hurled something straight at his head! Zachary ducked and expected dough and frosting to strike the wall beside him. Instead, he heard only a deep belly laugh. Confused, he looked over at the couch.

You thought I shot something, Madame Kloochie managed to breathe between bursts of laughter. You really thought I threw a rocket. She was laughing so hard Zachary had to smile. For the first time since arriving in New Hampshire, he thought he might learn to like this woman whose moods were as volatile as Boston weather.

Zachary hurried out the door, down the stairs, and across the street. Along the way, he wondered how long it would be before he started to grow wings. He shivered with the realization that his time might be running out.

He came up short at the sight of both Volvos parked in Bret’s driveway. The sun was just coming up and his friend’s parents were both there. Before he could figure out his next move, his scrawny friend opened the door and slipped out onto the porch. Already, he had on his trademark button-up shirt and slacks, but only brown dress socks adorned his feet.

I saw you out the window.

Meeting his friend on the porch, Zachary nodded and pulled back his tee shirt collar. He rapped on the golden-red scales.

Whoa!

D-D’you ask M-Madame Kloochie about that? Bret asked.

Zachary nodded. If she knows anything, she’s not saying.

Bret moved to the stairs and sat down on the top one. Wh-What are you th-th-thinking?

I’m thinking I need to find a cure for dragon poison before I start eating pets. He wanted to smile but couldn’t force the expression. Apparently, there was little humor in becoming a monster.

Y-You need a doctor!

Zachary had already thought of that. I can’t imagine someone like your mother or father being able to help.

Wh-What about the doctor you already s-s-saw? Bret pointed at his cast.

No way! Doctor Gefarg is the one that told Krage how to find us in Boston. I don’t need him finding out where I am again.

But he knows about magic, right?

Zachary nodded.

M-Maybe you can call him th-th-through that little c-c-coffin.

You stutter when you’re upset, you know, Zachary said.

Are y-you going to ask M-M-Medusa?

If it will get rid of these shoulder pads, Zachary said, you bet I am.

He hurried back across the street and up the stairs. By the time he grabbed his father’s U-Ghoul unit, dodged a maple donut and rushed downstairs to open Madame Kloochie’s Store, Bret was already waiting at the front door, a grim look on his face.

2) Three Eyes and a Monster

"What about your parents?" Zachary asked as he let Bret into the store.

They didn’t get in till early, Bret said. I doubt they’ll wake up before noon.

Zachary led Bret to the back of the store between a bureau with a missing drawer and a pool table lacking cloth on the top. Before opening the casket lid, Zachary waited for Bret to take several steps back. Though seeing Medusa the last time might not have put him in the hospital, that didn’t make it wise for him to get too close. As always, the snake-haired woman and the disgusting ghoulish hands were there to greet Zachary as he settled into the U-Ghoul’s seat.

You have seven thousand and twenty-two messages, the olive-skinned lady said. All are from His Lordship Ker Sevikrage. There are no messages from Roger Penbolt Pill, Francis Neddleson Pill, or anyone else.

Zachary heart sank as it did every time he talked with her. No news meant