Page 8 of Her Dragon Outlaw

I pace outside of the building, dipping into the alleyway every so often in case I’m seen. I know I must look extremely cuckoo to any passerby who stops to look for more than 10 seconds, but I cannot help myself. Heavens help me, I think I might be losing it.

I aim to stop someone as they pass this side of the street, but no one does. Perhaps they see the crazy guy wandering around talking to himself. Perhaps they are just not that interested in a greige, nondescript building that lacks any kind of personality. Unlike the woman, this building makes me depressed enough to scream.

There is no way I can go into that clinic without giving the game away. She will just be a figment of my imagination until I can get help on this case.

After an hour of this, I give up and head back to the agency. No one comes along, no one exits the clinic, and I have no more leads. Perhaps I can find an informant on the payroll who would be willing to do this job, but I cannot in good conscience let them be experimented on knowing the disastrous consequences it has.

As I enter the office, I pass the other detectives. Investigator Logan Peters stops me, a shrewd smile on his face.

“I heard there was a break in the case,” he says.

I nod, but my heart is not in it. “Interestingly enough.”

“You’re a good kid, Cody. We’re all rooting for you here.”

Peters is twice my age and twice divorced. He has been on the force for almost 40 years and has more knowledge in one pinkie than I do in my entire brain. He lets the younger detectives lean on him over a cup of coffee in the break room, and yet, venting to him seems unimaginable. I should be able to do this myself, right?

“Thanks, sir.”

I let him clap me on the back and continue to my office, where I spend the rest of the afternoon turning over directives in my mind. Will the woman be there tomorrow? And if she is, is there any chance I could have of getting her to spy on Miller labs?

7

LORI

The stale evening wind clings to my skin as I exit the building. A shiver ripples down my spine. I really hate shots. There was something about watching a slim piece of metal being stuck inside your person like some demonic straw that doesn’t sit well with me.

I pull over to the side of the building, leaning against the wall to check my ankle. It is red around the injection point and a dull ache reverberates from the injection site. Whatever they are testing, they have done a great job of not having anything identifiable within the subject permitted areas. I rub my thumb over the spot, noting how tender it is.

What wouldn’t you do for money ?

I look down at the check and sigh. The relief that comes when I take in the amount is bitter, lifeless. What has my life become? Being an experiment for money? I clenched the check in my hand, the shame weighing the paper down as if it were a cinder block. This isn’t me, and yet right now, it is.

The knowledge that after this, I’ll still have nothing makes me feel like I’m running in place.

Pushing off the wall I walk to my car. Once I'm inside I snap a quick picture of the check in my banking app and begin the quiet drive home. Things could be worse, I could have wasted a week trying to land a mediocre part-time job. At least with this, I would be okay while I worked and got things together.

The beginning of I’m feeling good by Nina Simone starts to play.

I press the answer button on my stereo screen. “Hey Mom.”

There's a pregnant pause. “Hun…” she says, her voice tight.

My stomach dropped. It was never good when my mother started a sentence with hun. “What’s wrong?” I ask, bluntly.

“Where are you?” she says cautiously.

“Just tell me what's wrong?” I say, annoyed with her dramatics.

“It’s Tammy-”

I cut her off. “Is she okay?”

“I don't know. She hasn’t picked up her phone in a few days and I'm starting to get worried."

The blood in my veins turns to ice, and my heart slows to a sluggish crawl. Tammy is the responsible one. The one who took up the unspoken task of keeping our family connected. She is never out of reach. She… I wince, pulling away from the spiraling thoughts, afraid to think them into existence.

“Don't worry mom. I'm sure she's okay,” I say more for me than for her, hoping my voice doesn't sound as shaky as I feel. “I’m heading over to her house now. I'll call you when I know something.”

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