The Dragon Ticket and Other Stories

By John Walters

High in the Himalayas a young woman receives an extraordinary gift. Beneath the streets of Calcutta a man discovers a terrifying presence. On a far desert planet teeming with venomous creatures a woman searches for ultimate truth. In these and other strange and wondrous tales John Walters explores the ramifications of human/alien encounter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Walters
• Release date: Nov 24, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458161567

John Walters

John Walters recently returned to the United States after thirty-five years abroad. He lives in Seattle, Washington. He attended the 1973 Clarion West science fiction writing workshop and is a member of Science Fiction Writers of America. He writes mainstream fiction, science fiction and fantasy, and memoirs of his wanderings around the world.

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The Dragon Ticket and Other Stories

By

John Walters

Published by John Walters at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 by John Walters

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold reproduced, or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

With the exception of the afterword, this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons places or events - except those in the public domain - is purely coincidental.

Most of these stories appeared previously in magazines; see acknowledgements for details. The afterword and accompanying essays are unique to this volume.

Contents

1. The Dragon Ticket

2. Under Calcutta

3. The Golden Ones Who Work Miracles

4. Ceasefire

5. Star Over Babylon

6. The Touchstone

7. At The Edge

8. Clear Shining After Rain

9. Afterword: Concerning Reality and Fantasy

10. Acknowledgements

The Dragon Ticket

Michelle hesitated, then knocked on the open door and entered the dimly lit room. A man sat in a wheelchair facing the window. His right hand trembled slightly. Gray rain clouds filled the sky; a misty drizzle floated slowly downward, drifting here and there with the wind's currents. The dilapidated apartments across the street had been boarded up and appeared ready to be demolished.

Not much of a view, she said.

I think that building's been left to crumble of old age. When the man smiled, the right side of his face twitched. Michelle. I'm glad you've come.

She kissed him on the forehead. How are you, Daddy?

Well, the polite answer would be ‘fine’ but actually I feel like hell. I can't even get my hand up to scratch my face.

Where does it itch?

Don't patronize me. I can use the other hand. That's just an example.

Michelle sat in an armchair near the window from which she could see her father's face. Despite the rapid debilitation the multiple sclerosis had brought on, the blue eyes remained kind and the smile seemed sincere, but she detected a hint of despair behind the gentle façade, and he'd obviously lost a lot of weight and looked pale and weak.

Where's the nurse?

Out shopping. I wanted to talk to you alone. How's it going with your roommates?

Okay. We have good times and bad times. We're planning a camping trip this summer.

God, I miss you!

Daddy.

Yeah, sorry. I know I promised. I didn't ask you to come to tell you that. It just kind of escaped.

Michelle smiled. I miss you too.

With his left hand he wheeled the chair closer, until his knee almost touched Michelle's. I want to show you something I've never shown anybody, he said. I don't know why I never did, or why I even kept it all these years. For a long time I didn't think it was important. But now...

What is it, Daddy?

He reached into his left pants pocket, pulled out what appeared to be a yellow piece of paper, and handed it to Michelle. Within a rectangular frame of black ink was a dragon with bulging eyes, a curled tail with the tip shaped like an arrowhead, and a wide-open mouth full of sharp teeth. It was a simple drawing; there was no writing.

A dragon.

I picked it up in Nepal in my hippy travel days, before I met your mother.

It's kind of weird-looking. What's so important about it?

When I found it I just had a feeling I should keep it. I didn't know why.

A souvenir?

Little pictures like that are so common in the East I would never have thought to save one. But there's something different about this. Try to tear it up.

Michelle hesitated. Are you sure?

Go ahead.

She shrugged, gripped it between her index fingers and thumbs, and tried to rip it. She frowned, and tried again. Then she held it more tightly, and tried with as much strength as she could muster.

He smiled. Nothing, right? Not a tear, not a scratch, not a wrinkle. Now hold it up to the window so the light shines through it. Look closely at the dragon's right pupil. See the tiny dot that seems darker than the rest? If you run your fingers along the surface you can feel a little bump.

Yeah. What is it?

I don't know. Some kind of microchip?

But you said you found this thing about twenty-five years ago.

That's right.

I don't get it.

Neither do I. I really don't understand. But lately I think it's been transmitting a message.

Michelle looked into her father's eyes. Dad?

I know it sounds strange. But just try one thing: take it home with you; keep it near you for a while. See if you can get what it's trying to say. Then compare it with what I've written here. He handed her a sealed envelope that had been on the window ledge. If it matches, please come back and tell me. Please. Will you do this for me? He chuckled, but the sound had a hint of pain and fear of rejection. I hope you don't think I'm crazy. I'm not sick in the head; it's just my body that won't work right. He wheeled himself backward a few feet, and lowered his head. If you don't want to do it, just leave it here. I won't blame you.

She stood up, leaned over, and put her hand on his cheek. I'll do it, Daddy, she said. I will.

* * *

From the balcony Michelle watched the sun as it touched the ocean on the horizon and cast an ever-widening golden path towards shore.

Come on, Michelle, one of her roommates called from inside. Come with us.

No, I'm not in the mood. (Of course I want to go with them, she thought. I wanted my own life, and this is the type of life I wanted. What's the matter with me?)

A moment later she heard the door open, and a voice said, Last chance!

Go ahead. I'll see you later. (Why did I say that?)

Behind her the latch clicked shut. The sun had become a blood-red semicircle, staining the sky a rusty color.

She pulled out the dragon picture and looked at it, then stared into the darkening night. She didn't want to go to Nepal. She knew she didn't. She wanted to keep doing what she was already doing. She had friends, a nice place to live, enough money. She should never have agreed to take this thing home.

But now it was too late. Her father was right: there was a message. She felt it with increasing urgency the longer she kept the yellow paper close to her.

(It's not for me, it's for Daddy, she thought.)

But as much as he probably desperately wanted to, her father couldn't go. That's why he'd confided in her.

Slowly she pried open the envelope's flap. (I don't want to see this, she thought.) As she unfolded the piece of paper, she knew what it would say; still, her heart began to pound furiously as the words her father had written exactly echoed what she'd been hearing inside: Return to where you received this; if you don't come soon, it will be too late.

* * *

From the roof of the hotel, as the morning sun gleamed upon the snow-capped peaks, Michelle searched the surrounding foothills. Her father had said that when he was there the shrine could be seen from the city, but that had been twenty-five years ago. Was it still visible? Her gaze wandered over the crests, the convolutions, the abrupt cliffs, the sharp bare rocks. Yes. Beyond the golden dome of the Monkey Temple, high on a green hilltop across the valley, Michelle spotted a small but distinct gray object.

But how could she get there? Nepal was in the process of closing itself off to foreigners in an attempt to isolate itself from the worsening global political situation. The army had put a cordon around Kathmandu City and was carefully inspecting anyone coming or going. She had only managed to get in by wearing a sari, slicking back her long dark hair and knotting it into a braid, and marking a bright scarlet spot on her forehead with lipstick. Then she'd boarded a bus at the Indian border and had made the long, arduous trip along the narrow winding road through the Himalayan foothills to Kathmandu. By the time the bus arrived it was after dark, and in the confusion of the inspection she'd managed to pass as an Indian woman.

She'd have to wait until nightfall and try to slip past the sentries. She sighed. From the pouch at her side she pulled out a small yellow rectangle; though she knew every dot and line of the picture by heart, she studied it for a long time. Then she raised her head and looked again at the gray spot on the green hilltop and the majestic, seemingly endless range of mountains. She didn't know why, but she felt a sense of urgency; she was almost out of time.

* * *

After dark she left the hotel, carefully walking through the narrow streets to the city's edge. She descended the steep bank to the river and followed the reeking water, picking her way through the garbage, and slowly tip-toeing past the groups of large pigs noisily rooting through the decomposing piles of rubbish. She saw armed soldiers on either bank but managed to slip by them unseen. She took small paths in a zigzag pattern through the rice fields until she came to the foot of the hill, then she circled the base until she found a dirt track winding upward.

* * *

It was late when Michelle reached the summit; her watch, set to local time, said 1:30. A thin crescent of moon dimly illuminated the hilltop.

The shrine, built of large pieces of gray granite, crowned the hill. Inside, a leering idol sat cross-legged. It had many arms like a spider, and long fangs like a vampire bat. Before it lay the wilted flowers of past offerings.

The cold air easily penetrated the thin sweater she had brought. She tried striding back and forth to keep warm, but it didn't help much.

Countless stars stabbed through the blackness. The icy peaks in a vast circle around her stood like silent sentinels.

Finally she gave up pacing and sat down on the grass facing the mountains and the valley below, whose few puny lights seemed insignificant in comparison to the myriad stars above. (Maybe Daddy sat here, she thought. Maybe he sat on this very spot.) As she waited she began to shiver. (What if nothing happens? What will I do? This is so crazy; I can't believe I'm really here. And yet...) She felt the dragon paper beneath her sari. Her apprehension subsided. Though she continued to shiver, inwardly she became calm.

Suddenly behind her she heard humming, first faintly in the distance, then increasing in volume as it came closer. She felt the touch of a warm breeze that became stronger and stronger and finally completely enveloped her.

(Should I turn around? I can't! I must!) She remained motionless, her eyes closed, letting the warmth penetrate her skin and drive away the last vestiges of the cold's grip.

But finally she looked. It was a round metallic object about the size of a basketball, with tiny multicolored lights skimming around on its surface like flashing bugs.

The humming subsided. Whatever it was greeted her and then began to speak rapidly in Nepali.

Wait, I don't understand.

Language adjustment: English: West Coast United States. There, is that better?

Much better. Who are you?

I've come to activate your gift.

My gift?

"You must