Dragonet

Chapter Fourteen

It was late, very late and several days later. Already the sun’s last feeble rays had vanished, leaving the city to its own devices. Framed against the cities glow a bat-like creature had stood nearly unmoving for over an hour. Patricia’s voice abruptly interrupted Dragonet’s thoughts, startling the winged woman. “You’ve been standing there a long time” she said softly. “Lost in thought or just watching the unwashed masses?”

“Lost in thought” Dragonet admitted, turning to face what to others would be pitch darkness. To her Patricia’s blanket shrouded body was a soft warm glow in otherwise near blackness. “I don’t know wither to go mad, end it, turn myself in or go hide someplace until I die.”

“Suicide is a sin” the red tressed woman answered. Slowly she pushed herself to a sitting position, fighting a wave of dizziness as she moved. “God would never let you into heaven as a suicide.”

Dragonet shrugged. “God and I parted ways a long time before this happened Patricia. People attracted to their own sex are a sin too you know so Heaven’s a no-go for me, at least my priest said so before he threw me out of the church. So did the Bishop, I never got a reply from my lettre to Pope John-Paul. I haven’t been in chapel in oh, ten years or so now so I guess that’s why God did this to me, punishment right? Suicide really wouldn’t matter anyway then would it.” She stepped away from the open door, moving to her jumble of pillows where she could warm back up. Settling down she studied her companion. ‘Captive?’ she wondered. ‘No’ she decided. ‘Just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

“Still no light?”

“I could light a candle” Dragonet admitted. “We’d have a dozen gang-bangers up here in less than five minutes. I could take care of them but I’d have to hurt them pretty bad, most likely I’d have to kill them. Their too stupid to understand when they are outclassed but I really don’t like hurting people. This place’s been my home for now, except the few times I could slip into my old apartment for things like clothes, that blanket, sheets and such. That old mattress was already up here, I hate to think what’s been done on it but it’s a bed.”

“I’ve been in worse places myself” Patricia admitted. “I was always the rebellious one. Straightened up a few years ago and going to college now. I want to be an astronomer.”

“NASA?”

“Best game in town” Patricia agreed. “Finding new planets for me, if they’ll have me. But you were a police officer, you’ve admitted as much. Isn’t there someone you could go to?”

“Maybe” Dragonet admitted. “I’m not certain anymore so I’m afraid really.”

“Maybe you ought to try. At worst you’ll know for certain. One thing life’s taught me, knowing is a heck of a lot less painful than not knowing. Knowing things like, are you going to keep me up here or what?”

“Think you can survive a short flight?”

“If it doesn’t end in a hard stop, yes. Why?”

Dragonet smiled. “I do know someone, I’ll see if I can find him. If I can I’ll take you down so he can get you to hospital.”

Patricia turned away suddenly. “After that what? I vanish into some program? Have my brain ‘adjusted’ or die on an operating table?”

“Why?” Dragonet asked, confusion evident in her voice. “Okay, you know about me. So do others. More will later I guess. All I have to do is move so that before your story can get out I’ll be long gone. Why hurt you? Besides maybe one day I can look up at the moon and say I know someone up there.”

A long breath of relief escaped the blanket shrouded woman. “I wasn’t sure. Okay... You go find your friend. I’ll pack and be ready to go.”

“Pack what?” Dragonet asked as she stood again. “Dress yes, your stuffs over there. What’s to pack?”

A short burst of laughter answered her. “Trying to make a joke. Okay I’ll be ready then and Good luck.”

Still a bit confused Dragonet quickly launched herself from the water tower. Turning West she headed for her old station. Though there was no thick cloud cover tonight she was mainly unobserved. Those awake had other things on their minds anfd to be truthful, looking up from brightly lit streets into darkness made spotting a fleeting object nearly impossible. Her flight, a series of turns and climbs over updrafts soon found her landing on the police buildings cluttered roof. A guy cable had caught her left ankle sending her tumbling. ‘At least the top floors storage’ she thought as she picked herself up, brushing sticky tar covered pebbles from her body. Learning how to fly had been one thing, she’d liked para-gliding already. Landing. Now that was still a problem. “Feel like a dumb gooney bird” she grumbled as she headed for the roof’s edge.

Oddly her normal walk had evolved into a kind of slow loping run, as if her leg muscles were more elastic. “Bloody roo is what I’m becoming” she cursed, looking over the edge. Two floors down and three windows over was what she needed, an open window with no light showing. Probably some bean counters office or more than likely a records room with no air conditioning. Carefully planting her feet on the brick edge she took a breath, then leapt off. Making a wide turn she headed back towards the building, breaking just a little too late she slammed into the window. Shattered glass shards tumbled through the air making a wind-chime sort of sound as they cascaded across the rooms floor. With claws digging into the wooden frame Dragonet waited. Someone had to have heard that, there should have been alarms, pounding feet, dozens of heavily armed officers like in the movies.

It remained strangely quiet. ‘Too many movies’ she decided. Moving as carefully as she could Dragonet entered, glass crunching under cloth soled feet. Shoes would be nice since her feet were barely more resistant than before and the glass was sharp. Though she’d tried, only her old house slippers still fit and they were tight. It was a records room all right, banks of metal file cabinets lined its walls while carboard boxes of old files looked ready to tumble at any minute. Turning on a desk lamp she picked up the phone. Whitman would be at home right now. Selecting an outside line she dialed his well remembered number.

“Whitman’s” a young male voice answered. “Who yah want?”

“Tommy” Dragonet laughed. “Is the old man in? I need to speak to him a moment or is he still trying to digest Sara’s cooking?”

“Nah, Mom cooked. Sara’s grounded. Too much onion. I’ll get dad, he’s playing with his trains I betcha.” A clatter of handset striking a wooden table came as the young boy ran off. She waited silently, Tommy almost never asked who was calling while Sara nearly demanded a pedigree. Kids. She thought about their last picnic, just before she’d taken the....

“Arnold Whitman, who is this” her friends voice asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Hiyah toot-toot, still shoving ice cream down little girls blouses? Or are you carbonizing hot dogs again.”

“Theresa” he gasped. “Where are you. How are you?”

“Where I am Arnie is about three floors over your desk and a dozen or so rooms to one side. How I am...” She took a deep breath. “I’m falling apart Arnie. I’ve even debated about killing myself. Look, I’ve got your missing donut girl and I need to turn her over to you. She’ll need hospital. I need to talk to Lt. Williams. Is that safe?“

“Okay hold it. I’ll meet you where? We’ll sort this out okay?”

“Seventeenth and Markham. That’s close enough. I’ll get her to you then we go wherever you want. What about Williams?”

“I’ll call her, let you know.” Her line went dead as Arnold Whitman hung up. She was just setting her own phone down when she heard voices.

“Not this office, try the next.” Her office doorknob jiggled. “Locked too” a second voice reported. “Hang on.” Sounds of a key entering the lock. Moments later light flooded the room as three police officers, weapons drawn came through the door. Even after an exhaustive search all they found was a broken window with a claw scarred wooden frame. Nothing else.

Dragonet blew her landing again, ending up on her back, legs spread wide above her while pillows slowly tumbled about her. Laughter filled her ears, turning her head she found Patricia, now dressed, sitting on her bed. “If that’s the best you can do no ones going to be afraid of you” the redhead giggled.

“Be... Very... Quiet” Dragonet snapped irritably. Patricia’s sudden silence, the look on her face struck Dragonet like a knife. “Sorry, shouldn’t have said that” she added. “I’m just... I can’t seem to get the hang of landing unless I’m hovering.” Turning slowly she let gravity tumble her body into a somewhat more dignified position. Managing a sitting position she pushed her short hair back, looking out the towers shattered side towards a nearby dark building. “Good thing your leaving now, someone’s over there. I’m sure they saw me. If not me, they couldn’t have missed your laughter.”

“Sorry” Patricia whispered. “I didn’t think. So.. I’m leaving?”

“So am I. There’s a can of white gas on your left. Open it up. This place goes up in flames.”

“What about your stuff?”

Dragonet shrugged, wrapping a wad of cloth over a fragment of board. “Soak this please? My stuff...” She shrugged. “Take hours to get it out, what’s salvageable. Not worth the effort so I’ll find a new place, until then I can maybe hide in my apartment during the day. At least a few more days before someone comes in to check.”

“Isn’t burning this stuff dangerous?” Patricia asked as she poured the clear pungent liquid over pillows. “I mean, this tower might fall or something.”

“Uh-uh, things made of concrete. It’s chuff, burn a bit then this stuff will collapse down the old fill pipe. Only a few dozen old boards keeping everything from doing that already.”

“You mean...” Patricia looked down at her feet. “We could...”

“Wanna live forever?” Dragonet asked with a smile. “No worry, I checked it before I picked this place. Fire will burn through pretty quick though. They’ll play hob getting any evidence worth keeping now go stand by the door, this is really kinda dangerous.”

Dangerous wasn’t the word. As soon as Dragonet tossed her torch there was a dull thump far below where heavy fumes had already gathered. Everything moved up a bit, then settled. Air began to rush through the opening, a steady breeze in both women’s faces. With a squeak of surprise she jumped to the openings edge, grabbed Patricia then leapt out into darkness. It was only after they were falling that she remembered to open her wings. Behind them was a flicker of light, a kind of huff, then a huge tongue of flame reached out above the airborne figures.

Twisting left Dragonet aimed for the intersection she’d selected. Half falling past several buildings, through a narrow alley and they were down. It was Patricia that saved them a tumble, bending her knees just before they landed she stopped most of their forward momentum. Then she dropped to her knees, holding her head.

Dragonet glanced behind them. Her one time home was a series of bright flashes as flames first billowed, then starved for air withdrew, sucking in fresh air to repeat the process. “So much for my signed Bon Jovi poster” she groaned. A voice called to her, turning to face the source she found two people waiting for her. Her old friend Detective Whitman and Lieutenant Williams. “Help me get her into your car” she ordered, helping Patricia to her feet.

“You call that dangerous?” Patricia gasped as she stood. “What’s deadly force? A hydrogen bomb?” She stumbled, then was being helped by two pairs of human hands. “Oh, hi” she managed, looking up into a women’s black face. “Seventh Calvary. Fashionable late as always.” With that the redhead passed out again.

Three hours later with Patricia now settled in at hospital, the three were sitting in William’s living room. Dragonet was greedily drinking the last of a gallon of chocolate milk while William’s grilled her. “I still have trouble believing your Theresa” Lt. Williams finally admitted. “Still unless she blabbed every secret she had, which I can’t see happening, and you just happen to be left handed too....” She reached out, touching Dragonet’s arm. “I don’t know what we can do hon. I’ve got a couple doctor friends who owe me. I’ll contact them, we’ll see but you have no place to stay.”

“Still got that California King bed?” Dragonet asked.

“Yeah, and the answers still no. But I do have a nice visitors bedroom.”

“Its still yellow isn’t it? You know I hate yellow.”

“Close your eyes then” Williams answered. “Or you can sleep in the garage. Whitman, your calling in sick tomorrow. I don’t need you at work after a night of no sleep so I’ll talk to you this afternoon.” She stood, intending to escort Whitman to her door. “Dragonet huh? Couldn’t you come up with something better?”

“What? Lizard girl? Scale face? Croc woman? Winged Wonder? Bat Girl? The Incredible Insect Eater? I think I did pretty good.”

Whitman smiled, “Your still Theresa to me, and your still welcome at my home.”

Dragonet smiled at that. “Really Arnie? Can I play with your trains again?”

“Are you kidding?” He looked at Williams, “She watched too many Adams family reruns. The original series. Set a charge that blew up my biggest bridge. Five weeks it took building that trestle, one second for her to turn it to matchsticks.”

“Hey” Dragonet complained, setting her empty bottle aside. “You said I could play. If you can’t blow them up...”

“Kids” Williams nearly shouted glaring at the two. “Enough okay? Look, Whitman goes home to bed. I’ve got to go in for a meeting, but I’ll half-day it. Got enough comp time. This evening we’ll work something out. Until then you” she poked her finger into Dragonet’s chest, “Stay away from his trains and you” she turned, grabbing Whitman’s sleeve “Get out before someone thinks we’re having an affair.”

After Whitman had driven off Lt. Mary Williams studied her visitor. “How long since a bath?”

“Months” Dragonet admitted. “Managed a rag bath couple times. Showers probably better though considering...” She opened her wings a bit. “And the tail. Car seats are murder on tails you know.”

“Agreed, and there’s parts of you I don’t think you can reach now. I’ll scrub your back, then you get some sleep.”

“You and me? In your shower? Alone? Ooohhhhhh goody!”

Mary rolled her eyes in mock dismay. “Me in a swimsuit, now get out of those filthy clothes. I’ll wash them if you want but there no more than rags. I’ve a half dozen robes of Sam’s still. He was so big they ought to work. Now get.”

An hour later, freshly scrubbed, dry and between real sheets Dragonet sighed. She’d slipped on several pairs of socks that had belonged to Mary William’s late husband, the better to protect delicate sheets from her now claw-like toenails. With a soft purr of contentment she slipped into a near dreamless sleep.