Sammy waited until Barbara had disappeared around the corner.
He followed the road on the right past familiar exhibits.
Doors snapped in half.
Some of the extraordinaries escaped.
Some did not. And he understood why.
There’s nothing more I can do to help them.
He stopped at the exhibit that once was his own.
It was a triangular one-story building – wide in front, narrow in back. It was as flat as a slice of pumpkin pie.
I was always cold.
Always wondering when I was going to die.
Forced to perform as a riding beast for children. Some of the children were kind and gentle.
Some of them were not.
And he was always there.
The door warped and shriveled.
Caten was always there.
Sammy entered the building. He walked through the Artist and Artifacts area.
Display cases exploded. Paintings burst into flames and shriveled and crackled.
The metal blast door at the other side of the room collapsed as if someone had removed its hinges.
He entered the burning cold of the exhibit.
An opal-colored dragon huddled in the corner. Her sheer gold wings lay in disheartened sheets at her sides.
The temperature in the air grew warmer as he approached her. Until it was warm enough to revive her.
She raised her long head.
He stopped again.
“You.” she said.
Her slit pupils widened. “Sammy?”
He gulped nervously.
I’m not supposed to do this.
I shouldn’t do this.
I’ll get caught.
“Sammy? Is it you?”
He let go of his fears.
He let his body transform into a large midnight blue dragon with silver wings and a silver head crest. “Mother.”