The Dragon Tree by AC Kavich Page A

plant.
                  There were other minor jobs to be performed at the site. Due his total lack of experience, Billy was given the worst job of all: scrap collector.
                  The steady arrival of new logs at the top of the hill left a mess of loose branches and leaf litter on every inch of ground. It was Billy’s job to wait for the few moments between logs then dart out into the “landing zone” and snatch up all the garbage he could.
                  Billy was still exhausted, but he found his second wind by mid-morning and put in several hours of fleet-footed work. He ate lunch with William and a burly machine operator named Al – all three men downing hoagies made by Al’s wife Helen – and suffered through a half hour of aimless football conversation.
                  Billy was still ravenous after his hoagie. He watched the other two men intently in case either couldn’t finish theirs. Unfortunately for Billy, they both ate every bite.
                  “You got a serious appetite on you, kid,” said Al with proud nod. He turned to William. “Soon as he gets off scrap duty and lands a cushy top-of-the-hill gig like mine, all them calories will go straight to his belly. He’ll be as top heavy as yours truly. Am I right, Bill Sr.? I read about that on television.”
                  William rolled his eyes and placed his hard hat back on his head. “Mountain ain’t gonna clear itself, boys.”
                  After the noon meal, Billy was comfortable enough in the rhythm of the job that he started to daydream. His mind went first to the image of Eva’s hair floating as she stared out at the ocean. Did she know that he was watching her? He thought about Hiroki’s tears when the camera slid over the cliff edge and the icy stare Eva sent his way moments after. His pops could curse at him for a solid hour and Billy wouldn’t feel as wounded by it as he felt after two seconds of that stare.
                  He thought about the climb down the cliff face. And the tree halfway down, growing upside-down from the bottom of the rocky shelf.
                  “Hey kid, quit picking your nose!” yelled Al from behind the controls of his rig.
                  Billy had daydreamed too long and had failed to see the landing zone clear. It was his time to run out and collect branches. He wasn’t sure how many precious seconds he had wasted imagining the gnarled branches of that strange tree, but he knew he better hustle.
                  Down the slope, William wired up a log the length of a school bus. He gave Al the signal, and the tree came flying up the zip line. It swung from the wire around its circumference, headed straight for Billy. He had no chance to get out of the way on his own, but Al saw the danger and was quick on his controls. He slammed the hauler’s brakes and the log stopped its quick ascent just shy of the landing zone. The force of the abrupt stop was so great that the log jerked violently and the wire zip line snapped with the tension.
                  “Dammit!” yelled Al as the loose log barreled down the hill headed straight for a half dozen helpless men. He reached for his air horn and pumped it angrily. The horn screamed loudly enough that William’s slope team heard it and bolted for cover. The log bounced past the men, shattering with every impact and filling the air with massive splinters.
                  William was screaming furiously as he scanned the top of the hill, and his eyes soon landed on a mortified Billy.
                  The site foreman – a hulking man in bright red hardhat and suspenders – came charging at Al’s rig with his hands balled in fists. When the foreman turned to glare at him Billy knew what Al must have said.
                  “Get off my mountain,” the foreman growled at