Structophis

by Joseph Lallo

  “Well then that’s just what we’ve been looking for. Bring it here.”

  Henderson brought it over and the pair investigated.

  “Definitely commercial. Just the sort that’d be on a catering truck.” Jones grabbed the radio. “Dispatch, we’ve got a possible piece of debris from that bistro truck we’re after. We’re back on Sawmill Road 4. Seems to me a truck like that isn’t going to get far on mountain roads like this. What’re the closest pieces of property with maintained roads?”

  “Let’s see… There’re a few.”

  “Well put together a list. And get Rimly and Buck in their gear and out to Sawmill while you’re at it. If the state’s after that truck, we could probably use the backup.”

  “Roger, Officer Jones.”

  Jones hung up the radio microphone and grinned. “Nice thing about a small town, Henderson—there are never too many places to look.”

  #

  Blodgette was just finishing up her afternoon dip as Markus stood at the edge of the courtyard, poking at a grill. It was covered with chicken breasts and hamburger patties.

  “You know something,” he said. “This is bringing back some good memories.”

  “Is it?” Gale said, distracted as she looked over Blodgette’s chest armor.

  “Sure. Every summer, while I was at the camp, we’d have barbecues right here on this grill. It was movie night, too. They’d set up a screen over there and we’d watch cheesy family movies. Good times.”

  Blodgette moseyed up to Markus, sniffed curiously at what he was cooking, then plunged her hand into the bag of charcoal and tossed a handful into her mouth like it was popcorn.

  “What are you working on?” Markus asked.

  “Look at her chest plate here,” Gale said, pointing to a shiny patch. “First off, most of the creatures like her are a combo of doughy flesh and ceramic or masonry, not metal. I would have expected some oxidation or something, what with all the heat and swimming. But she’s just as shiny as new. Shinier even.”

  Gale rubbed a finger across the plates on Blodgette’s shoulder. “I think she’s sort of keeping them oiled naturally. I wonder if that happens with other creatures, or if this is another survival adaptation thanks to the nonstandard upbringing… And look here. I distinctly remember this being a sort of work-hardened crack in the chest plate when I was first taking pictures.”

  She snapped another picture, then worked her way backward through the hundreds of photos she’d taken.

  “Here, see? Definitely a gap! And now there’s just a thin spot, maybe. She’s repairing her covering. That’s an excellent sign. It not only proves she’s getting the nutrients she needs from the stones she’s been snacking on, but it means that she’s able to grow and change just as in normal development based upon a proper oven.”

  “So she’s going to be fine?” Markus said hopefully.

  “It’s a little early to say for sure she’s not going to have further complications, but aside from the outlier temperatures I’m seeing, she’s developing perfectly.”

  He flipped a burger. “That is fantastic news. I gotta say, I was really worried about her.”

  “Sure. Because if she was stunted or otherwise impaired you and/or your uncle would be legally liable.”

  “No. I mean, well, yeah, but no. That’s not why I’m relieved. Not by a long shot.”

  “It seemed to be pretty high on your list of concerns in the beginning.”

  “In the beginning Blodgette was this big, spooky monster I only remembered in nightmares from the first time she crawled toward me. Now she’s… I don’t know. She’s Blodgette. And I’m Mom for crying out loud. I mean, what about you? Don’t you care about her?”

  “Of course! I’m studying to be a zoologist. I care about all animals, and Structophis gastrignae has been my focus since I learned they existed. If I play my cards right, the things I learn about Blodgette and the reports I write about them will be the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’ll be able to do loads of good for the whole species. Expanding the knowledge of their health and wellness, expanding awareness of the species and its uniqueness. It’s a win all around.”

  “Sure, but I mean, that would have been true if you’d gotten a chance to research any of the pizza dragons. I’m talking about Blodgette specifically as an individual. Heck, as a person. Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten a little attached.”

  “Sure, she’s a sweetheart.”

  He plopped one of the burgers onto a bun and plated it up. Blodgette, sniffing and investigating a tray of fixings they’d set aside for her, selected a canister of oregano and threw it into her mouth. From the pleasant churr she produced, she quite enjoyed it. After grabbing a second canister, she nosed around the assortment of potted plants that had survived the trip and plucked a vivid purple sprig. She tucked it between two plates of metal near her shoulder as one might stick a boutonniere in a lapel.

  “Oh, oregano. That’s the first herb she’s picked out, right?” Gale took the note down. “Fascinating. Structophis gastrignae always seem to favor aromatics commonly used in human cooking. Possibly a sign of sort of a symbiotic development? And even the flower. That’s jasmine, right? Definitely an edible. I’d like to get my hands on some vanilla. Some exotics, you know? Things that we eat but one isn’t likely to find every day. Do they have an instinctive sense for comestibles? Is it something about the essential oils? Fascinating…”

  Markus squirted some ketchup onto his burger and spooned on some relish, then plopped down on a folding chair they’d been able to dig up. He took a seat and gazed across the surface of the lake. Something thumped down into the cupholder on the seat. He turned to find Blodgette grinning pleasantly. Either she’d worked out that he had forgotten to grab a beverage before sitting down, or she’d seen a slot in the chair and sought out something to fit into it, since the shaped-pegs-in-shaped-holes toy had quickly become a favorite of hers. If she was simply looking for a round peg, she’d picked something just the right size. If she’d been shooting for a beverage, she clearly hadn’t quite learned the difference between her own tastes and those of her caretakers.

  “Uh, thanks, Blodgette. I’m sure a can of… Homestyle Tomato Puree would really hit the spot right now, but I think I’ll pass,” Markus said.

  She watched him expectantly for a bit, then made the increasingly familiar chirp of realization and pulled the can from the cupholder. Rather than replace it with something a bit more appropriate, she made a fist and punched the sharp corner of her “gauntlet” into the lid to create an opening for him to drink from. After that, she handed it right back and watched him.

  “You know,” Gale said, tapping her pen on her pad, “Structophis gastrignae have been known to take the refusal of their food offerings as a sign of rejection.”

  “… Yeah?”

  Gale nodded. “I’m just saying.”

  He sighed and braced himself, then took a sip of the canned tomato. Once he muscled the lumpy, cold, and fairly bland substance down his throat, Gale burst into hysterics.

  Markus narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess. You made that up.”

  “Of course I made that up. If you turned it down, she’d just pick something else. You weren’t kidding though. You’ve gotten pretty darn dedicated to this parenting thing.”

  She walked over to hand him a cola to wash the aftertaste from his mouth.

  “Thanks. Blodgette, you see this? This is for me, this is for you,” he said, illustrating his point about the comparative appropriateness of the two beverages with clear gestures.

  The dragon shrugged and grabbed the tomato puree, popping it into her mouth before plopping down on the ground beside him. She stretched her kinked neck out a bit, flopping her head around behind the chair to rest her chin ever so gently on his shoulder. Fresh out of the water as she was, even her particularly hot horns were little more than pleasantly warm.

  “Oh, this is just too good,�
� Gale said. She snapped a picture. “I’ve never read anything about Structophis gastrignae being so tactile.”

  Markus reached up and gave Blodgette a little scratch on the chin, prompting a burble of happiness. “You know… let’s ignore the questions of how long we’ll be able to do this and what sort of consequences it’ll have. Right now, in the cool early evening, with a nice burger by the lake… this is kind of nice. I think this is the first time since Beeni first called and started this whole mess that my stomach hasn’t been in a cramped-up knot.”

  “Good! That’s good! Animals as smart as Blodgette are very empathetic. Anxiety could easily pass right from you to her.” Gale turned and squinted in the direction of the road. “And it is for that reason that I’m going to ask you to avoid looking in that direction.”

  “Why…?” he said nervously.

  “No reason,” she said, eyes fixed firmly on something in the distance.

  Her hopeful charade didn’t last for long, as soon the distant wail of sirens shattered the peaceful sounds of nature. Markus stood and looked toward the road. They were only able to make out the merest sliver of road from this vantage, but a police cruiser drifted into and out of view. Markus took a deep breath.

  “Okay, Blodgette, we’re just going to go inside now. Nothing to worry about. We’re certainly not about to be arrested and dragged off to be fined and incarcerated for violating one of several dozen laws and regulations.”

  The group hurriedly made their way inside.

  “Hey,” Gale said. “Maybe we’ll luck out and they won’t be able to get by the guard.”

  #

  “Yes, sure, whatever you say, Officer, uh, Jones!” said the guard, shakily reaching for the gate controls. “I mean, I didn’t see anyone come or go, but this is a big reserve, and I’m not here twenty-four seven. Just about anybody could sneak on through. Probably the kind of people who’d tell filthy lies about how they might have gotten inside, just to get decent, law-abiding blue-collar guys like you and me in trouble. Right? Heh. Heh heh. Am I right?”

  “Just open the gate,” demanded the officer.

  “So what’s this about, anyway? Some sort of… fugitives?”

  “Just. Open. The gate,” the officer repeated.

  “Right, right.” He tapped the control and the gate started to rattle open. “They, uh… they don’t give me too much in the way of training. This isn’t the sort of thing where you need a warrant or anything, is it? Only because I don’t want the higher ups to give me any trouble for violating protocol. I’m all about protocol. Yes, sir. We’re nowhere without rules, right?”

  The police officer sat down in his cruiser and watched the rickety gate slide open. He made it all of six feet past the gate when his radio crackled with a message from dispatch.

  “Car 96, responding to nature reserve. We’ve got special orders from way up top,” instructed the dispatcher.

  Officer Jones picked up the radio. “What are the orders, dispatch?”

  “There is a special response team on the way, they’re about twenty minutes out.”

  “A special response team?” He peered into his rearview mirror at the police SUV that had accompanied his cruiser, their precinct’s closest equivalent to a SWAT team. “We’re the special response team.”

  “This is coming from the state office. Seems as though they think this might be part of something bigger.”

  He grumbled and squinted at the road behind them. “I see three big black vans on the way. No markings. I assume that’s who we’re waiting for?”

  “Yeah. They’ll flash some private security badges.”

  “Private security? We’re taking orders from private security?”

  “No, we’re taking our orders from the state, and they brought in private security.”

  “We’re sure on the credentials here?”

  “I asked all of these questions and got an angry call from Denver that threatened my pension, so leave this one alone.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Roger, dispatch…”

  A road that hadn’t seen more that one car at a time in more than a decade was soon crammed with a police cruiser, an SUV, and three large vans with windows conspicuously absent from their cargo sections. The police shifted to allow the vans up to the gate. When they arrived, the side door opened and a severe woman in a crisp business outfit stepped out, flanked by six well-armed individuals.

  She surveyed the officers with a critical, distasteful air and addressed them collectively, as though they were the workers of a factory awaiting her instruction on how to operate their machines.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced. “As you have no doubt been informed, I am present on orders from the highest level. My team and I shall be the forward-facing individuals for this operation. You all have a very important task to fulfill. We have reason to believe that the individuals presently taking refuge within this facility are engaged in a large-scale criminal enterprise. I have viewed satellite and aerial imagery of the area, and this is the only reasonably maintained road with access to major local byways. If the suspects are to attempt to escape, in any way but on foot through the mountains, this is their only choice of route. For that reason, I require you to withdraw to the intersection with County Road 7, approximately three-quarters of a mile in that direction, and set up a perimeter—”

  “Wait, hold on,” Officer Jones said. “This is the choke point. It’s the gate in the fence. A fence is by definition a perimeter. Why the hell would we withdraw anywhere?”

  She looked at him coldly. “Because you are so ordered by a special representative of your local, state, and federal government,” she said.

  Ms. Grumman pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket and presented it to him. He unfolded it. The page was easily the most heavily authorized and authenticated piece of documentation he’d ever held. It was notarized and bore no fewer than three signatures that could end a career and shutter a department.

  He cleared his throat and handed it back. “Roger, Ms. Grumman,” he said shakily. He slipped into the cruiser and keyed the radio. “Dispatch, units responding to the nature reserve will be redeploying to the intersection of County Road 7 to set up a perimeter.”

  “Thank you, Officer. The capacity to follow orders is depressingly rare among American police, second only by a tendency to forgo the necessary vetting of authority and credentials. You have demonstrated both skills adequately.”

  The SUV peeled off and moved down the road to a position with virtually nonexistent sightlines to the former campsite. The armed security piled into the van, but before Ms. Grumman joined them she leaned down to address the officer.

  “A final point, Officer,” she said. “As you no doubt realize by the individuals from which I draw my present authority, I am entitled to a considerable amount of leeway with regard to how the completion of this operation shall be achieved. I respectfully request your men hold their positions at the perimeter unless extenuating circumstances require your intervention. And in this case, I am comfortable affirming that no circumstances short of direct orders from myself or those listed on my credentials are suitably extenuating. Is that clear?”

  “This is your bust. Understood.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He watched her with unmasked irritation as she stepped into the heavy van and ordered it forward.

  “Henderson,” he said, addressing his thus far silent partner within the cruiser. “In case anyone ever asks you what a blatant corporate payoff looks like, this is that.”

  Chapter 9

  Dimitrios peered out through the tinted window at the visibly perturbed police officer as he pulled his vehicle back.

  “That’s very impressive,” he said. “Maybe once this is all over, your boss and I could have a word about what sort of steps are necessary for a certain enterprising entrepreneur to get his hands on the kind of piece of paper it takes to boss the police around like
that.”

  “When this is over, Herr Spiros, the single remaining interaction of any kind that you can expect to have with Herr Hearst will be the delivery of the remaining half of your fee, which will be relinquished only with the agreement that you maintain silence regarding the details of the agreement and its results.”

  “Was that a part of the contract?” he said, scratching his head.

  “Am I to believe that you did not thoroughly read through a contract detailing the circumstances and requirements of an eight-figure payout?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s all legalese. There’s always wiggle room in that stuff. You just let me have a word with him and I’m sure he’ll see the sort of value I can add to his firm. Spiros and Hearst, joining forces? That’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Herr Hearst is already a force to be reckoned with, Herr Spiros. And he has achieved that status by knowing which individuals are worth his continued attention and which are best dealt with and discarded.”

  Outside Grumman’s window, she watched the former summer camp slowly roll into view. “I see a grill. Smoke still rising. Food uneaten. Recent footprints, large and small, in the courtyard. Our targets are here, certainly. Herr Spiros, for the sake of smoothness and simplicity, I would request that you step out first and conduct the opening negotiation. With any luck we can see this through peacefully and swiftly.”

  “Sure thing, sure thing,” Dimitrios said, nodding vigorously. “Negotiation is my specialty.” He slid the door open and stepped outside.

  Ms. Grumman shut the door behind him and turned to the strike force. “I want you ready to act quickly but only when ordered. The chances of this imbecile successfully bringing the target into our custody are slim, but I will not have so much as a single tranquilizer fired until it becomes absolutely necessary. That said, if it does become necessary, I want the assault to be brief and efficient. You are armed with semiautomatic tranquilizer rifles, each with a clip of fifteen experimental tranquilizers. I want extreme shot economy and accounting. Each missed shot will need to be accounted for and cleaned up. Understood?”