Dragons Awakening
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: In Flight Training

After his kidnapping, Akolo sulked. The plush couch on the private jet made a perfect place for it. He stared at the white-leather chairs and shiny wood-grain table tops. Rather than a flight attendant demonstrating safety features, the slightly-accented voice of the pilot came over a speaker above his head.

“Miss Oohara and passenger, please buckle your seat belts for take off.”

Passenger? Because he certainly didn’t have a name. He was only essential because he could communicate with animals, bend their wills to his. Although, after meeting the wall that was Ezer’s mind, he doubted he could compel the dragon they went to awaken to do anything.

Zi, seated in a leather chair along the opposite windows, finished brushing and braiding her hair. She flicked the long, black strand over one shoulder. It rested on her chest. Akolo averted his gaze. This girl was a control freak. No way was he going to admire her lithe figure.

The Asian girl pressed a button on a panel beside her seat. She flicked her gaze his direction. Her sky bright blue eyes chilled him. Talk about a freak of nature. And his pale green eyes weren’t a similar aberration? He shook his head.

“Manning, once we clear the populated areas, I need you to reduce your airspeed and fly just below the clouds.”

“Miss Oohara, I have a flight pattern.”

“It wasn’t a request, Manning.”

Whirring instruments crackled over the speaker while Zi waited for a response. Time stretched. Akolo shifted in his seat. Zi glanced toward his movement, her chin stiff. She was certainly used to getting her own way.

“It is unsafe, Miss.”

“You’re an accomplished pilot.I trust you to avoid any mid-air collisions.” She sipped from a bottle of water resting in a cup holder on the table in front of her.

Another pause. Mid-air collisions? Chills marched along Akolo’s arms. He stared toward the closed cockpit door. Only one pilot. Who would fly the plane if something happened to him?

“Yes, Miss.”

“Inform me when you’ve complied.”

“Of course.”

ZI stabbed him with her startling turquoise eyes. “Care for something to drink now?” She tapped on the tablet in front of her.

Akolo shook his head. In fact, his zinging nerves had finally settled enough that exhaustion overwhelmed him. He stretched out on the leather couch, turning his back toward the girl. Listening to the purr of the engine soothed him. As he drifted off, a blanket dropped over him. Sleep, Oho, his mother’s voice whispered through his mind.

It’s time, whisperer. A mental prod accompanied the words. Akolo bolted upright, rubbing his eyes. The blanket slipped off his shoulders.

Is that you, Ezer?Akolo shrugged his shoulders and rolled his feet to the floor.

“Who else? I know you are weary, but time is short.”

ZI handed him a bottle of water. His eyes watched her hips sway as she took three steps back to her chair. He shook his head. Must be his sleep-muddled brain.

Akolo opened the bottle and swallowed half of it in three gulps.

What do you want me to do?

“Try to penetrate my mind like you did in the barn.” Ezer’s growling voice fit his scary visage.

Akolo drained the rest of the water, recapped the bottle, and tossed it to the far end of the couch. He shoved the blanket away. Time to concentrate on what Ezer called dragon whispering. The water gurgled in his stomach. Not because he was nervous. He’d been inside the heads of animals, birds and even fish since he was in second grade. But not in a dragon’s head.

Akolo leaned against the sofa back and closed his eyes. He pushed out with his extra sense. With this mental radar, he detected the dragon’s thoughts. Again, the rigidity of the brain waves halted his forward push into the brain. The thoughts of dolphins had been the thickest he’d ever encountered, but moving through them still felt like swimming in the surf. Doable. How could he push through something that seemed to suck at him like quicksand?

Impossible.

“Difficult, yes. Allow me to guide you.” Ezer sounded less patient than most of Akolo’s high school teachers.

How? It’s like there’s a wall.

“Indeed. Dragon’s are sentient beings. You must replace a crack in our mental armor.”

Akolo squeezed his eyes tighter until colorful flashes sparked behind his eyelids. He huffed out a breath.

“Reach for my thoughts. They are in your mind, now. That’s how you can hear me.”

Akolo’s eyes popped open. Ingenious! Of course, the dragon would be connected to him during telepathy. Closing his eyes again, Akolo drew his special sense inward, searching his head for the telltale thought waves that weren’t his own. In a moment, he glimpsed what appeared to be a chain. One end of it was buried inside his own mind, the other trailed outward.

The link. Akolo imagined pulling himself along the sturdy thread. Two heartbeats later he stood beside the thick mass of dragon thoughts. A crack in the armor. He felt along the edge of the chain and imagined sliding through the wall of brain waves, riding the chain like a zip-line.

“Very good, whisperer. Now, try to turn me from this course.”

Akolo’s lips twitched into a triumphant smile. Inside the dragon’s mind, a whirlpool of spinning thoughts sucked at him. How to replace the control center?

“Dive into the stream.” Akolo’s heart leapt against his throat, nearly strangling his next breath.

How can I dive in without losing myself? Even the thought of melding with the whirling dervish of inner workings made his stomach revolt.

“I won’t allow you to lose yourself here.”

I doubt the other dragon will be as kind.

“Which is why we must train before you meld your mind to his.”

Akolo’s throat felt dry. He opened his eyes, still connected to the dragon’s thoughts, feeling strangely out-of-body in the plush plane. “More water.” His voice was hardly a croak.

ZI strode to the small kitchen at the back of the plane. “How’s it going?”

Akolo shrugged. She handed him the bottle of water, locking gazes with him. He dropped his stare to the bottle, and she released it.

“Is he going to be able to do this?” Zi stared toward the ceiling. Talking to Ezer aloud.

A moment later she cringed, holding her head. Her glare returned to Akolo, causing him to nearly choke on the water. “Tell him to relay messages through you. I’m sick of the migraines he causes.”

Akolo coughed and cleared his throat. “Okay.”

“I heard her.” Ezer’s voice grated with impatience. “I’ll do what’s expedient.”

ZI’s eyes were blue fire. Middle man in this battle of wills? No thanks. He capped the bottle. “He heard you.” Let her decide what that meant in relation to her demand.

Akolo tucked the bottle into the gap between cushions and closed his eyes. The connection with the dragon’s whirling mind took only seconds to replace. He imagined the dragon turning away from the plane and cast his telepathy into the vortex of spinning thoughts. As if his fishing line had snagged on something, Akolo’s consciousness jerked toward the mental abyss. He threw himself against the invisible force.

“Concentrate, whisperer. Visualize what you want.”

I’m trying. Just because the dragon could hop into other people’s heads, didn’t mean he understood the difficulty of molding independent will.

“You must succeed.” No pressure there.

Akolo struggled through the miry labyrinth of brain waves. At times, he saw the sky around them or the top of the plane, looking through the dragon’s eyes. Other times, memories of swarms of strange insects or fire-breathing dragons fighting other dragons.

“I am taking you where I want, whisperer. Show me what you want.”

Akolo’s jaw ached. He tried to relax his gritted teeth. In the mental chaos, he’d forgotten about his body. Throbbing behind his left temple performed a knock-out on his telepathy.

“I need a break.” His eyes snapped open to discover Zi staring at him.

“There is no time.” Ezer’s voice echoed with less patience than ever.

“I can have the pilot resume normal cruising speed.” Zi raised her eyebrows. “If you’re done.”

Akolo nodded. The hand retrieving the water bottle shook.

ZI pushed the intercom and gave the pilot permission to resume normal flight speed and elevation. “So you better steer clear, Ezer.”

“You must succeed, whisperer.”

Akolo’s empty stomach bucked. We can practice more after I rest.

Strangely, the dragon acquiesced.

The engines beside Akolo roared, matching the pulsing in his forehead. Telepathy was tiring. How did the dragon accomplish it so effortlessly, remaining in contact for hours?

Another bottle of water, and a small brown tablet appeared.

“Painkiller. Prescription strength.” Her strawberry lips curved into a slight smile.

Akolo took the water and held his other palm out to her. She dumped the medicine into it.

“A brutal taskmaster is he?”

Akolo nodded, swallowing the pill with a gulp of icy water. He closed his eyes. Sleep’s misty arms beckoned. Something hard touched his legs. His eyes snapped open.

Zi loomed over him, her tablet sat on his lap. Her lips moved. She said something about ordering clothes for their mountain trek. She moved to the back of the plane and he made his selections. The smell of ginger floated from the kitchen. Was she cooking?

When Akolo hit the “purchase” button, he thought his eyes might pop out of his head. The total amount of the purchases could support him and his dad for a month or more. Good thing she’s paying. Or her rich father was.

While Zi ate primly, Akolo devoured his chicken, rice and vegetables. Drumming his fingertips on the table beside his empty plate, he glanced toward the window. An endless sea of clouds beneath them and a solid stretch of blue sky above.

“Tell me about your family,” Zi said and he felt her eyes on him. “Where are you from?”

Akolo leaned away from the table and crossed his arms over his chest. He would talk but he didn’t have to like it.

“My dad and I live on the Big Island where he works as professor of geology at the University of Hawaii. I teach surfing lessons to tourists and surf as much as I can.”

“Your mom?”

“Dead.”

Zi inhaled sharply. Electricity bolted through Akolo’s chest. She coughed several times and took a few sips of her drink. “Sorry. Mine too.”

The warm feeling dropped like a rock into his stomach. Of course she had a sob story. She probably even thought it excused her high-and-mighty behavior. Akolo clenched his hands against his ribcage, glad his armpits concealed his tension.

“Dad and I don’t talk about her,” Akolo said.

“My dad either,” she said, her pale eyes darting to his for a second before returning to her half-eaten plate of food. “I used to wish he would, but now I’d rather not talk to him at all.”

“Guess you two don’t get along,” Akolo glanced around the plush interior. “Doesn’t keep him from spoiling you.”

Zi ate in silence. The scent of it encouraged another rumble from Akolo’s gut. He ignored his gurgling stomach and stared at the wall in front of him. Doubt wormed into his conscience. His comment might have been a little heartless on the backside of learning her mother was dead.

When she pushed her plate away, several bites of food remained. She raised her eyebrow at him when his ravenous gaze rested on it. She pushed the plate toward him, removing her fork and knife first.

Akolo wanted to refuse, but his body craved more of the perfectly prepared stir-fry.

“My mom died when I was eight,” the girl said. “How old were you?”

Akolo finished swallowing the food and reached for his glass. Empty. “Almost eleven.”

Zi stood up collecting her used plate and utensils. His eyes followed her to the small kitchen at the back of the plane. Those form-fitting jeans were worth every dollar she had paid for them. It strained his willpower to tear his eyes away from the sight of her slender, toned backside.

Soon enough, she returned with a green bottle and sat it on the table beside his empty glass. She took his plate but left his silverware since they were shoved off to the side. So much for impeccable table manners. He felt his cheeks heat, which made him clench his jaw. Why was he allowing her to make him feel self-conscious? Just because she had a planeload of money didn’t make her better than him.

When she brought the steaming dessert, his mouth watered again. She set a fully formed cake ring in front of him and returned to retrieve one for herself. His fork cut into the chocolate treat. Fudge gushed from the spongy mountain of deliciousness.

She set two cartons of milk in the center of the table before sitting down with her own chocolate creation. The napkin went back over her lap. Where had his gotten off to anyway?

“I saw this vision of a car leaping the curb outside our high-rise,” she said in a voice so soft he hardly heard it above his chewing. “The car ran over my mother. I saw it a week before it happened, but I couldn’t change it. On that ugly day, it happened right in front of me. She shoved me out of the way and our attendant pulled me back against the wall of the building. The car rolled over her - like she was nothing.”

The cake lodged halfway down Akolo’s throat. Sure, he had watched his mom die, too, but it wasn’t a traumatic car accident. And he hadn’t had to see it beforehand. He opened one of the cartons of milk and swallowed the cool liquid.

“That’s rough,” he said. Lame. Did he think that offered any comfort in the face of her loss?

“I thought seeing it every day for a week would leech the actual moment of horror,” her voice sounded resigned. She shook her head. “Being present in the reality was worse.”

Akolo drummed his fingers on the table again. What does a guy say in the face of such a revelation?

“My mom died of a virus,” he said. “Both dad and I were by her bed in the hospital when she passed.”

Zi tilted her face toward him. For once, her blue eyes held no contempt.

“How did she get a virus? What there an epidemic or something?”

Akolo shook his head. “She had just returned from a trip to Alaska, taking samples after a volcanic eruption.”

“Both of your parents studied volcanoes?”

Akolo nodded. “Mom was a seismologist. Dad’s theory about volcanic eruptions being the trigger for earthquakes interested her, so she joined his research team.”

“I can’t imagine my parents -” She stopped mid-sentence and cut a bite from her cake. “Ironic that I’m serving lava cake when we’re trying to keep lava from burying Europe.”

Akolo shoved another bite of the rich concoction into his mouth. Irony: just what he needed to evict those forbidden memories.