Plunk.
I squat there gasping. And I peer down the corridor at the dragon’s still form sprawled out in the dust and rubble.
I sure hope he gave himself amnesia. Otherwise, when that fool wakes up, he’s never going to stop until he finds me!
And then using the last precious drops of my BIOCON juice, I whirl around and flap my wings and shoot down the corridor in the opposite direction from where the Commando is laid out.
Thwack-thwack.
[ 32 ]
WHAT A FITTING PLACE FOR ME TO DIE, HERE IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST
So this is how I come to find myself shooting down one corridor after another and turning new corners and shooting down another corridor and another and another.
I can hear this light beeping noise in my earhole, signaling to me that my BIOCON LEVS aren’t just running low. They’re nearly out.
Speaking frankly here, at this point there’s no plan on my part to save my life or anything. The plan is simply to fly for as long as I can fly before crashing. That’s really the extent of my worldview now that my WILL TO POWER is ThrashBait.
Now I’m just grateful each time I hear my leathery wings flap, because at least I know I have a few more moments left of airborne life.
And as I fly deeper and deeper into the Center for Combat & Conquer, I can’t help but think about all the good times I had with Dr. Terrible in this building over the years. All these memories come bubbling up into my skull, which I guess is the equivalent of my life flashing in front of me before the big sleep.
Thwack-thwack.
And as I fly along through the corridor I remember one time in particular when me and Dr. Terrible were in the Center’s Invader Module. I’d landed my spaceship on the planet Kooverolp. I swaggered out of the spaceship and looked at all the furry purple Gershwan Boiks and snorted flames out my nostrils and I held up my powerstaff and roared, “My name is Gork The Terrible! And I’m here to conquer your planet Kooverolp! And if you don’t want to die, you will surrender to me now!”
Now the artificial Gershwan Boiks in the Invader Module that day had instantly come charging right at me by the thousands while letting out their strange buzzing war cry. So I’d turned away from the oncoming savages with the idea of running back to my spaceship.
But before I could even lift a webbed foot, I fainted.
Then, when I came to, the Gershwan Boiks had already gnawed off my left leg and now had started in on my right leg.
I howled.
At that moment, my scaly grandpa Dr. Terrible had shut down the module and he’d come into the Virtual Terrain Area laughing so hard his beak was clacking, and then the two of us had a real good laugh over that one. Over what a coward I was.
“Oh Gork, what are we going to do with you?” said Dr. Terrible, snorting flamestreams.
Then he fetched the tip of his tail to affectionately whap me upside my scaly green head. And on that particular day we’d both found my lack of WILL TO POWER hilarious. It was a powerful bonding experience for us both. I knew it in my giant sensitive heart, that my grandpa Dr. Terrible felt the same way as me that day. And on that day, we were family.
But now here it is, the most important day of my life, and I’m nowhere near the dragon chick I want to be my Queen. Instead I’m flying deeper and deeper into the Institute’s Center for Combat & Conquer.
Thwack-thwack.
Looking around, I realize I’m lost. There’s this steady rhythmic chirping in my earhole, only now it’s faster. I am nearing the end. My BIOCON LEVS must be insanely low. Like life-threateningly low. Like a rabid mouse could kill me right now. That’s how low.
Who knew when I woke up this morning in my lair that this is how things would end? That I was destined to become just another Crown Day casualty.
Every year, hundreds of WarWings cadets die on Crown Day. The stakes are that high. Now I will join their ranks.
Me, just a forgotten number to be swept into the dustbin of history.
I flap my wings and fly forward.
A wave of self-pity washes over me.
I feel so tired that just breathing is an effort.
The air is like hardening lava and my wings are struggling to get any purchase in it.
I coast forward through the air.
And I think:
How are your BIOCON LEVS?
You can’t ignore them anymore. You’ve got to check. No matter how scary that prospect is to you, you can’t flap another wing until you check. You’ve already let it go on too long without checking and if you—
And then I think:
OK OK OK OK OK. I’ll check my LEVS already. In the meantime do me a big favor and shut up.
So I glance down at my powerstaff but instantly wish I hadn’t. Because my data reads like something out of a nightmare:
CADET NAME: Gork The Terrible
STATUS: Goner
Goner
Goner
Goner
Goner
Goner
Yikes. I now rank dead last in my entire senior class, and my WILL TO POWER status is Goner. The screen just keeps flashing Goner Goner Goner Goner Goner.
I fall out of the air and crash onto the floor. I lie crumpled up here. My wings keep flapping because the mechanism in my scaly green head that controls them is broken. My wings are pushing the rest of my body around awkwardly on the floor. But then my wings accidentally crush themselves against the floor and get bent. I feel the flesh in one of them tear a little bit. But I don’t have the energy to care.
I can hear the faint electronic chirping in my earhole as it speeds up.
Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep.
Then the chirping cuts out.
I slither over to a crook in the wall and fold myself into it, preparing myself to die. To go to the Underworld. Professor Nog. It won’t be long before I see Nog in the Underworld. He won’t be surprised to see me, and I have to wonder if when I first appear down there he’ll say I told you so. Especially considering how he tried to warn me that the Oddsmakers had my death at 99.9% today.
This little crook in the wall is surprisingly comfortable. I don’t try to fight my death. I just go with it. I close my eyes and feel my essence drift off into the big sleep.
When I open my eyes, I’m surprised to discover I’m not dead.
I’m still in the crook of the wall.
A powerful strange and dense aroma comes wafting down the corridor, tickling my nostrils. It’s a kind of a luscious funk smell, and it’s definitely getting my juices going. I figure it’s the odor that woke me from my death nap.
Now I see a white dot at the other end of the corridor. So I lie here in the crook in the wall and watch as the white dot approaches.
Who the heck is intruding on my death?
Leave me alone.
Can’t I just die without somebody messing that up too?
Well that funky smell is now overwhelming, and it’s definitely sexy. The smell makes me feel like I’m taking a lava bath with some sort of luscious oils. My nostrils flare.
The white dot keeps coming.
Now I can see what it is.