Structophis

by Joseph Lallo

  The sight of a mound of newspaper rapidly sparking to flame around a propane tank pumped enough adrenaline into her body to provide her with a moment of clarity. In her impaired state, she had no chance of putting out this fire without getting caught in it. It was spreading rapidly enough to make it clear the newspaper wasn’t the only step that had been taken to ensure the spread of the blaze.

  Gale did the only thing she could do. She grabbed Markus’s legs and dragged him desperately away from the spreading flames.

  #

  Blodgette couldn’t control her shaking. The van was rolling away, and the people who had helped her were behind her, in the building. She was being taken away. Emotions ran high—anger, fear, anxiety—but as strongly as she felt them, she couldn’t manage more than a whimper and a shudder when she even thought of trying to do something.

  Part of it had to do with the needles they’d shot her with. She looked down to find three still prickling her doughy flesh and brushed them away. They weren’t enough to send her to sleep as they had her friends, but they made her feel terribly sluggish and weak.

  The van trundled along the uneven road, tipping her from side to side and teetering. She shuffled her feet to catch herself. Something slid and rattled against the wall as she did.

  Blodgette looked down and spotted the flowerpot Markus had dropped, with the delivery jacket beside it. She gathered them both up and held them close, sniffing them and trying to detect any hint of Markus’s scent. It was there, mixed with the aroma of the flower and the musty scent of the small room that had served as her nursery. Thoughts of that place, and of her rescue from it at the hands of Markus, entered her muddy, tranquilized mind. She took another deep whiff.

  This time there was something else, something fresher, more stinging. There was fire somewhere. She raised her nose and found the scent coming from the little vent that blew fresh air into the cramped chamber around her.

  “You idiots!” barked Grumman, her voice barely audible through the door that separated her little chamber from the driver’s compartment. “I told you we needed at least twenty minutes! The cabin was supposed to ignite while the police were trying to negotiate. It’s already gone up in flames.”

  Only a few of the words filtered through Blodgette’s haze of sedative and her weak understanding, but the ones she heard, she didn’t like. She raised her head and pawed at the rear door, wishing to see where the scent was coming from.

  “We’ve used this method a dozen times. It is very reliable,” her subordinate assured her. “Someone must have woken up.”

  “Then get this van to the gate, now! I’ll get on the radio and see if I can salvage this with the police.” After a moment, she continued. “Attention, local police, negotiations have failed. Markus Spiros, Gale Dekker, and Dimitrios Spiros were on-site but had barricaded themselves inside, and it appears they are attempting to burn the facility to destroy the evidence…”

  She continued, but the handful of words Blodgette understood rattled in her mind. Markus… Gale… burn…

  Fear and anxiety flickered, but the anger surged. Something was happening to her people. Something this terrible woman knew about. As her anger boiled, her temperature began to rise. Chemicals never meant to be put to work on a creature as literally hot-blooded as a pizza dragon sizzled and broke down. Her mind cleared, and with the renewed clarity was a renewed purpose.

  There wasn’t much room to move in the back of the van, but she was no stranger to cramped spaces. She rocked herself to the side and struck the wall. The van lurched aside and tipped up onto two wheels.

  “The beast is awake! Someone get back there and put some more darts in it,” Grumman ordered.

  Blodgette screeched and rammed herself into the opposite wall. This was the last straw. The whole van tipped over and slammed onto its side, grinding along the gravel. Blodgette tumbled about painfully, her metal armor screeching and clanking against the interior. The collision with the ground wrenched two of her shackles from their mounts, and thus freed, she had the leverage to yank the others free.

  One good hard shove tore both rear doors from their hinges, and she crawled from the battered van. Her crusty hide had a few scrapes from the fall, but that was the last thing on her mind. The few minutes of driving had taken her nearly to the opposite side of the lake from the cabin. Great billowing columns of black smoke were roiling out from the structure. The ominous glow of fire flickered in the windows. Grumman and Blodgette clearly weren’t the only ones who noticed the blaze, as the police were far closer than Grumman’s call would have facilitated.

  “Subdue the target!” Grumman cried, crawling through the shattered windshield and flagging down one of the other vans.

  The vehicle ahead of them slung gravel as it turned to pursue. The one behind emptied as four gunmen raised their tranquilizer guns and unleashed the ammunition. Needles sparked against Blodgette’s armor and punched into her hide, but she was running too hot to even be slowed by the fresh doses. She barreled past the men, whipping her tail at one to launch him into the lake when he tried to physically block her way.

  She thundered onward, building speed and momentum. The second intact van pulled up alongside her, and its side door opened. Three gunmen opened fire, thumping additional darts into her flesh with little effect. By now she had more than a dozen of the sedative rounds sticking out of her neck, tail, and thigh. She released a bellow of anger, a deep reverberating sound that pierced the air like a steam whistle. Again she swung her tail, the stout metal spade at the end slashing easily through the driver’s side tire. The driver slammed on the brakes and fought to keep control of the vehicle.

  Now there was nothing between her and the cabin. It wasn’t more than fifty bounding strides away when a deafening thump and ball of flame burst from within. The propane tank had finally blown, rocketing through the roof. Glass burst from the front windows and peppered her, but she didn’t lose a step. When she reached the door she dropped her shoulder and bashed through. It cost her most of her momentum, but the blast-damaged door exploded into splinters when she struck it.

  Inside, the cabin was utterly engulfed. The propane explosion had damaged the walls and ceiling. Hunks of structure rained down amid violent, crackling flames. Almost immediately she could feel her own temperature rising even more. The anger- and exertion-fueled heat within combined with the broiling temperature of the flames to push her quickly into the danger zone. A different pizza dragon at her age wouldn’t have lasted a few minutes at this temperature, but she brushed the danger aside and waded through the flames. Pieces of charred wood bounced off her mask and sprinkled down from above. Part of a wall had collapsed, blocking the main hallway, and the second story seemed ready to come down on top of her. Blodgette almost turned away to seek her friends elsewhere, but behind the wreckage she heard Gale’s voice.

  “Someone!” she coughed. “There are three people in here!”

  Blodgette wrapped her pudgy fingers around the burning wood that blocked the way and heaved it aside. More came down to replace it, but she charged through the tumbling debris and wedged herself through the door behind which she’d heard the voice come from. It was the children’s room, where she’d been having her lessons. Separated as it was from the blast in the entry room, it was more intact than the bit of the cabin she’d left behind, but the air was thick with choking black smoke and the flames were threatening.

  “Blodgette!” Gale said. “Thank god! We’ve got to get out of here!”

  She had the barest sliver of understanding of what Gale said, but the goal was nonetheless clear. The dragon’s eyes darted about. She saw both Dimitrios and Markus on the floor. The barred windows were damaged from Gale’s attempts to break them out to escape.

  All around them the cabin released a worrisome groan. There wasn’t much time. Blodgette hefted both Dimitrios and Markus from the floor. Each was still at best semiconscious. Once they were tucked safely under her arm
s, she paused. She couldn’t bring them out the way she’d come in. They would be burned. And the hallway behind was already taking to flame, blocking the only door out of the room. No matter. Doors were more of a nuisance to her than an asset anyway. If she’d learned anything from the last few minutes, it was that for a suitably motivated dragon, anything was a door. She put her tail to work again, hacking and bashing at the wall, trying to break through. It was slow going. The wood gave easily to each chop and bash, but there was a lot of it to go through and not nearly the time to do so.

  She turned and put her back to the damaged wall, heaving and throwing her weight against it. Each shove caused more of the wood to splinter and shear, and more of the ceiling to rain down. A final shove tore a Blodgette-size hole in the building and she tumbled out, Gale stumbling after.

  As the cool air hit her, it became clear that she was not merely warm, she was dangerously hot. As Gale wavered clumsily after her, Blodgette thumped with purpose toward the lake and dove in. The water sizzled and sang against her flesh and armor. Dimitrios and Markus, already shaken somewhat back to their wits by the jostling journey, were shocked to wakefulness by the unexpected plunge into the icy water. She released them and let them flounder to shore as she completely immersed herself.

  She was vaguely aware, during brief returns to the surface for a breath of air, that more and more people and vehicles were arriving at the courtyard, but right now she was far too interested in gulping down her fill of water.

  #

  Markus coughed and hacked up water as he dragged himself ashore. The tranquilizer, even with the jolt of adrenaline and the impromptu bath, was not quite done with him. He felt sluggish, and his muscles wouldn’t quite respond the way he expected them to. Gale, who was better off only in that she had more experience dealing with her disorderly anatomy, helped him unsteadily to his feet, then did the same for Dimitrios.

  “What happened?” Markus asked. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I was out for a lot of it. Are you okay?” Gale asked.

  In truth, the whole group had seen better days. Gale was fairly scratched and beaten up. Most glaring was the bruise on her chin from striking the ground when she’d fallen. Markus had a few scratches and burns from the escape. Of the group, Dimitrios had gotten off the easiest, scalded a bit from where he’d been carried by their piping-hot rescuer, but otherwise unscathed.

  “I think we’ll live.” He turned to the cabin, or what was left of it. “Why is the cabin on fire?”

  “They tried to burn it down with us in it, that’s why,” she said.

  “Last time I do business with that guy…” Dimitrios said, finally reaching his feet and dusting himself off.

  “Is Blodgette okay?” Markus asked.

  “I don’t know. She took a lot of heat.” She looked around and seemed to become aware for the first time that the police had arrived.

  A cruiser skidded to a stop. Officer Henderson in the passenger seat was barking orders and requests for assistance and fire intervention into the radio. Officer Jones threw the door open and put his hand on the grip of his weapon.

  “Get down on the ground!” he ordered.

  Gale and Markus complied. Their still-impaired equilibrium meant it was a faster trip than they’d intended. Dimitrios refused to oblige.

  “I just finished getting up. I’m an old man. And besides I’m a citizen, I know my rights! Take me to your manager!” he babbled.

  “Sir, are you currently under the influence?” the officer asked.

  “Under the influence of some serious seller’s remorse is what I am,” he said, wavering. “I never should’ve sold that thing to that witch’s boss.” Dimitrios pointed to the approaching Ms. Grumman.

  “Officer, you will arrest all three of these individuals,” she demanded. “They are involved in drug manufacture, drug sale, drug trafficking, and in the poaching of a rare and endangered animal.”

  “No, arrest her!” Gale countered. “She tried to kill us, tried to frame us for the drug stuff, and tried to buy the rare and endangered animal.”

  “That woman is clearly under the effects of narcotics,” Grumman said.

  “That’s because she shot me with a dart! Look at the thugs! They’ve still got the tranquilizer guns!” Gale said.

  “You’ve seen my credentials. I will not stand for further delay,” Grumman said.

  “Everyone listen up,” demanded Officer Jones. “I am an officer of the law and I will not be—holy hell!”

  Motion at the surface of the water revealed something that managed to push the spectacle of a burning cabin to the bottom of the list of priorities.

  She emerged from the water like a sea monster. Now that her body, if not her temper, had cooled, she was ready to take care of some unfinished business. The ordeal thus far had left her far worse for wear. The overheated metal of her armor had blued somewhat, and bits of it were already rusting. Patches of her flesh had been baked darker, some approaching black, and here and there bits had flaked off to reveal pale skin underneath. She had the look of a very large, very angry, very overcooked pretzel covered in scrap metal.

  Blodgette lumbered up the bank, fury in her expression and purpose in her step. Steam billowed from her mouth and nostrils. Rage smoldered in her eyes. A very uncharacteristic look of fear seized Grumman as Blodgette’s oh-so-expressive face made it explicitly clear what she had in mind. Grumman backed away. Blodgette stalked forward. The police did what from their point of view was the only sensible thing. They drew their weapons and made ready to put it down.

  “No!” Markus said, climbing gracelessly to his feet despite the guns that were shifting in his direction.

  “On the ground!” Jones repeated.

  “Don’t shoot! That’s Blodgette! She’s harmless!” Markus said.

  Grumman’s foot caught on a loose patch of gravel. It unsteadied her sufficiently for the enraged dragon to close in enough to grab the woman by the shirt and hoist her into the air.

  “Usually,” Markus amended. “She’s usually harmless.”

  “Hold your fire. You might hit the woman,” Jones instructed.

  Markus walked up to Blodgette. “Blodgette! Listen to me! You can’t do this. I know what she tried to do. But she failed! You aren’t a dangerous animal, you are a person. And people don’t kill each other.”

  Blodgette warbled angrily and pointed at Grumman with her other hand.

  “Okay, fine. Good people don’t kill each other. Prove you’re better than her. Prove to the cops and everyone else that you’re not a wild animal to be thrown into a cage or a shelter. Let her go.”

  Blodgette looked at Markus, then glared at Grumman. She held the woman close, face to face. A steamy breath blew Grumman’s hair back. Then, as if she were nothing but a piece of trash to be discarded, Blodgette hurled the woman into the lake.

  “No harm done!” Markus insisted. “No harm done! She’s fine! Everyone’s fine!” He turned to Blodgette. “Now listen, I need you to do like this, okay? Like this!”

  He slowly lowered himself to the ground as he’d been instructed earlier. Blodgette watched him, then gave the assembled police a critical look. Now that her anger was sated, her natural shyness and anxiety around strangers was creeping back. She took a few steps closer to Markus, watching as the guns followed her, then eased herself down to the ground beside him. Once she was lying in roughly the same way as Markus, she reached over and held his hand.

  “Good, Blodgette. Good. Everything’s going to be fine.” He looked up at the police and the burning cabin. “Sort of…”

  #

  Three days later, Markus sat in a back room in a courthouse in Denver, Colorado. During the time since the events at the lake, a few things had been made painfully clear to him by a sequence of lawyers, law enforcement personnel, and judges. Despite his good intentions, he had broken a huge number of laws. Breaking and entering, destruction of public p
roperty, and a dozen minor infractions. The question wasn’t if he’d be going to jail, the question was how long he’d be there.

  He’d not seen Gale since they’d loaded her into a cruiser to haul her away while she was still reeling from the tail end of her sedatives. Markus himself had been given some leeway in his treatment, if only because it was necessary to get Blodgette to do as she was told. Understandably, she’d utterly refused to get into anything even resembling a van again, so transporting her to the city to be processed had been achieved by loading her and Markus into an open-back logging truck with a very careful driver. They’d made their way to a university that had the proper facilities to treat Blodgette, then Markus had been hauled away for his hearings.

  It had all been a blur since then. The legalese being hurled about was several fathoms over his head, and two public defenders had taken a turn representing him before a third lawyer stepped in. That had been a few hours ago. Almost immediately upon this newcomer showing up, Markus had been thrown into his room and left alone with a guard at the door. All information and trial ceased. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but at this point he suspected the supply of good things had entirely dried up.

  He was still dwelling on just exactly how he’d gotten here and what had happened to his life when the door opened and Gale was led in.

  “Markus!” she squealed, relief and excitement in her face as she rushed in to hug him.

  “Gale!” he said. “My god, it’s good to see you. Do you know what’s going on? I haven’t heard a thing from a lawyer or a judge in hours!”

  “Me neither. This guy, J. S. Hollenger, Esq., shows up and says he’s defending me, then boom, they just threw me in a cell. It felt as if I was being sent to the kids’ table at Thanksgiving.”

  “J. S. Hollenger. Is that his name? He didn’t even introduce himself.”