by Mike Brotzman
part 3
 2 3

  After about 10 tries or so I was thinking more about how I could send the tape to David Letterman for some positive PR (scary monsters usually don't make asses of themselves) then about trying to fly. I had just taken my jump when I felt like someone had kicked me in the ass and I found my self sailing through the air in a ballistic curve impacting about 100 feet away. I must have been able to flap at just the right time to get some useful thrust. It was getting dark, but I couldn't stop now. The afternoon's work had made me incredibly hungry so I had an extra large dinner brought to the field. The field lights were turned on to counteract the encroaching darkness and in between attempted flights I could scarf down food and drink. Although my 'look like an ass' rate was still very high, I was getting better. I had the first flap down, and sometimes I could string together 2 or 3. My wings and all my muscles involved in flying were starting to ache, and despite eating dinner, my hunger had only gotten worse.
  Then if I ever got 3 good flaps I would just hold my wings out and glide. I was reaching distances of about 500 feet. After one nasty experience of crashing into the branches of a tree I tried to turn while gliding by dipping one wing or the other. This way instead of hitting the trees I would crash into the briar patch. Most of the observers wanted to go home by this point and someone told me when I was gliding, just try flapping my wings a few more times. Well that sounded simple enough. I leapt into the air flapped, flapped again and started my glide. Ok, I just needed to flap from my gliding position. Yes, just flap. Nothing was happening, this shouldn't be hard. I just didn't know how to activate the series of neurons to get me to fly. I had already mastered the takeoff bit, but sustained flying was not one of my skills. It was just then that I noticed I was about 30 feet from those nasty trees. Fawoosh. I was above them. Fawoosh. I was getting higher and moving faster. I was flying!!
  After I was able to flap once, it quickly became natural. This was great. Now I just had to turn back and rub my accomplishment into all those ornithologist's faces. I went to turn and for a second I felt like I was plummeting towards the earth. I quickly recovered and gained back my height. Better be more careful. I tried again w/ the same result. I found I could only make the slightest of course adjustments without wiping out. By this time, I had passed the adjacent reform school and was across Long Lane. I remembered an elementary school that should be almost in my current flight line. I could land and make a turnaround. I was really feeling pooped so I decided that I could put off learning to turn a day or two. I saw the school and started a glide. I made a few minor course adjustments without incident and slowed to land. Well, naturally I was coming in too fast, and when my arms hit the ground my momentum carried me head over tail and I found myself on my back. Panting. I looked at myself. I was covered in sweat.
  "Ooooofffhh" I was absolutely winded.
  I rolled over and tried to get up. The pain coming from my middle was making it hard to breath. It was like the biggest ache in the history of the world. What I wouldn't give for a Frisbee sized Advil. What did I do to deserve this? My flight wasn't more than a mile. I tried to lift my wings to take off, but they wouldn't move. They just sat on the ground and radiated pain. I eventually got them folded up and tucked against my back, but every time I moved them or an air molecule hit them it hurt more. It looked like I was walking.
  I moved off the school's playing field and down the drive. Some skateboarding kids took one look at me and then quickly ran in the other direction. I attempted a jog, to get back quicker, but I only made it about 5 steps before I had to stop and pant some more. What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm like supposed to be great and powerful here. Not tired and nauseous. It was about 7:30pm and dark out. I made it to the street and turned right to get to Long Lane. Encountering traffic was inevitable. I assumed that most people watched TV and read newspapers because nobody was panicking. The cars would just slow and the windows would roll down to give the people a better view. I was way too tired to care. At the 4-way-stop intersection with Long Lane, someone rolled his window down and asked, "Hey, are you that dragon from the news?"
  "Nah ::pant:: I'm some ::pant: other ::pant:: dragon." Jeez, I was too winded to even make a snide remark. This must be pretty bad. I made a left down Long Lane and scooped some fresh snow from a lawn and ate it. I had burning thirst and I was quite overheated. I was walking on the grass next to the road when I saw a jogger approaching. Just great, another human to send running into the woods screaming his head off, I thought to myself. As he approached I could tell he could see me, but instead of bolting he passed me, turned around and started to jog in place at my side, matching my ever slowing gait.
  "Wow, you're that dragon from the news. It looks like you've been working out."
  I think I would have preferred screaming. "Yeah ::pant:: sort of."
  "What were you doing?"
  "::pant:: Flying."
  "Cool, that must be great exercise. Does it give you a whole body workout or just your wings there?"
  I was too tired to speak. "Ooooo."
  "Are you feeling alright? You look kind of dehydrated there."
  I ate some more snow, gave him the best smile I had and fell down. I simply couldn't move any more. I heard the jogger running off.
  About 5 minutes later a school owned Astrovan pulled up and a bunch of people popped out. They lifted my head up and poured about 10 gallons of sugary water down my gullet. Somehow I got back to my 'lair'.
  It was about 9pm, and I was sitting on sleeping pads scarfing down bulk food items. At that point I would have gladly eaten a 43 gallon drum of flour. The test results had come in and they helped to explain things.
  They had concluded that I was still growing. The rate of growth was determined by how much food I ate. As soon as those nutrients hit my bloodstream, they were sucked up to make me bigger. My metabolic rate was through the roof. This explained why I never seemed to be 'full'. So for the near future, my purpose seemed to be eat eat eat, grow grow grow. Normally, they calculated I'd need about 20 thousand calories per day, but with my current condition I might need 50-100 thousand. My nutritional requirements now contained large quantities of several metals. My scales and horns did contain real silver, and I would need to eat about 10 ounces a day. My bones were magnesium based, strong with a light weight. I'd need to eat some of that also. My claws were some sort of carbon fiber coated w/ a thin layer of some tungsten compound. They grew out from the centre in alternating bands. After the hard outer stuff wore away the fibers would quickly follow until I was down to the next hard layer. They had calculated that my body density was less than your typical mammal, but greater than that of a bird. I was able to fly, but only at a great cost of energy. With all my practice out there today, I had simply over exerted myself when I flew the distance. If it hadn't been for that jogger guy, I probably would have passed out and maybe even died. They said that if this rapid growth ever stops it should be much easier to fly, but in the near future I should limit my activities. Finally Kara gave everyone her presentation about my ice breath. The gland in my neck produced a form of liquid air. Basically liquid N2 and O2. However, the resulting stuff was at an energy state that was far lower than normal atoms of N and O.
  "It somehow sucks the energy right out of normal atoms, causing changes at the subatomic level. What these changes are, how they are made and potential uses of this phenomenon have yet to be seen, but the effects are obvious."
  She dumped a few ounces of the stuff in a 2-liter bottle of water. The water instantly began to freeze and the bottle shattered, but before the any of the liquid water could gush out it had already frozen. This was followed by some loud "Ooooh"s and "Ahhhhh"s. Everyone started to file out, to leave me to my sleep, but that intern Sarah came up to me.
  "Here, you'll need to eat this now. They are silver and magnesium fillings. Don't try to chew, just wash it right down."
  I took the cup of metal, dumped it in my mouth and chased it with some water. It was like eating gravel. "Hey, what happened to the 'doctor'?"
  "He's been at a bar ever since you almost put him on ice this afternoon."
  "Well, when you see him, tell him I'm sorry." And on that note I got ready for bed.
  ::Breath, whistle, breath, whistle breath whistle, poke, breath, poke, poke, SNORT!::
  I slowly cracked open my eye to see what looked like a grad student poking me with a stick, Argh, I felt like shit. All my muscles felt like knotted ropes, which were painfully wrapped around my nerves. Dragon needs sleep! "Umph, piss off, I'm sleeping," I muttered through the gray pudding that had been my brain.
  "They told me you need to wake up. They said it's important. So come on, I know you're tired, but so is everyone else."
  "Piss off." I closed my eyes and quickly went back to sleep, despite the now vigorous stick poking. Mmmm, Dragon's bed is comfy and warm. Yes it is. Ahhhhh. Sleep good. I felt something tickle my muzzle and I unconsciously moved my lips in response.
  The next thing I was aware of was a burning pain in my mouth. My head lurched up and banged hard on the ceiling. OUCH! The burning heat got worse. My claws went to my face. I spit on the floor. What the fuck was happening to me?
  "Well, that got you up. I'm really sorry, but they told me to use this. It's 10 o'clock, you know. I just used a bit of pepper spray. You can wash it out over at the sink."
  I looked over and saw the little jerk holding a small yellow tube in his hand. Suddenly the pain from my mouth began to fade and my mental image of the person changed from "human" to "annoying animal that had to be dealt with". My hand swept around the animal's middle, pinning its arms to its side. I brought it up to within six inches of my tooth filled mouth, now actively salivating to expel the irritant.
  "Listen, you annoying sack of meat," I snarled at it. "The only reason I haven't broken you in two pieces and sucked out your tasty insides is because I enjoy the pathetic sounds you make." As I talked the saliva drooled out of my mouth forming a puddle on the concrete floor. I squeezed the little thing hoping it would make some of those whining sounds. I felt something warm on my arm. The animal was loosing bladder control and the smell of human urine filled the air. Stupid animals, they always piss on you when you pick them up. Disgusting creatures, humans are.
  It was at that moment my mind began to break through all the draconic instincts triggered by the assault on my mouth. I found myself holding a small, crying, whimpering, soiled human who was just about scared to death. I put him down and, still whimpering, he crawled over to the wall and curled up into a ball. It was at that moment someone else opened up my door and upon seeing a drooling dragon and a quivering human at its mercy, promptly slammed the door and ran off to get the tranquilizer guns.
  Aw, fuck. I was going to be in trouble for sure. I tried to comfort the poor grad student, but he just screamed when I moved towards him. The pain-blocking chemicals that had been pumped into my blood were wearing off and my mouth was starting to smolder again. I moved over to the basin and began to squirt out my mouth with the hose provided. There was a knock at the door.
  "Michael, its Dr. Smith. Is everything OK in there?"
  "Yeah, everything is fine. I'm not killing things, don't worry."
  The door slowly opened. There was a small group of people, several with bolt guns and they quickly entered the room to evaluate the situation. The grad student was led out and a mop was summoned to deal with the urine and drool. I explained what had happened hoping that they would not feel the need to chain me up.
  "Well, I guess we're partly to blame," explained Dr. Smith. "You've been so fun and easy going about all of this, that most of us forget how much dangerous potential you have. While it's evident that you have kept your human mind, you obviously have gained some dragon instincts that mostly involve killing, eating and fighting. Looking at both this incident and my incident, we really need to learn that you're not just a unique individual, but also a dangerous animal."
   I felt hurt by what he had said. He had just called me a monster.
  "Anyway, I need to go have a talk with whoever thought it a good idea to wake you up that way and you, unfortunately, have homework to do."
  Well, look at what I had done so far. I had almost frozen the good doctor, clobbered that snowball kid and almost eaten a grad student. Until I was able to learn some control over my new body, I was a monster. Wait a second, homework? This was Saturday!
  One of the assistant professors from the Comp Sci department walked in. I had basically missed three days of class, and since I was still here to learn I needed to catch up. I had already talked with my advisor about my classes. My two non-Comp classes were changed to Pass/Fail, and I had the option to drop them completely if my needs could not be met. I felt that I could still complete my computer work as I had before the change. I would also be getting 1.5 credits for my work with the research teams studying me.
  Anyway the assistant professor gave me materials, notes and outlines,and he then went through what I missed in my two comp classes that week. I was given an extra pad sheet of paper and lumber crayon to do my assignment with, but I found that simple tasks like writing and turning pages with my claws were getting harder. There was just too much in the way.
  My room was about 50 feet by 30 feet, and had been a lab under renovation. They had moved everything out, and set up my sleeping area on the left half of the room and everything else I needed on the right. There was a large washbasin sink and hose for my water needs, and the funnel/hose thinggie for my liquid waste in the far right corner, and most of my human possessions were in two closets on the rear wall. When I arrived on Wednesday it had been quite roomy, but now it felt more like a shoebox. How much bigger was I going to get?
  Also on the right side of the room was my food supply. I always had a bin or two of snackables (like fruit or bulk snack food) on hand for munching, and hot food was brought in around the three mealtimes. Since I was never full I was usually always unconsciously eating something. During the day there was always someone with me. Usually they were just people setting up some experiment or another. It didn't bother me much because they handled personal requests like "I'm out of apples" or "Can I get a refill on my beverage."
  I had just finished my problem set when my body presented me with an entirely new, but strangely familiar signal. "Um, hey. I have to ::pssst pssst ssspt::" I whispered in the attendant's ear.
  Apparently I had said the magic word and he ran out of the room yelling. He was only gone a minute, but the pressure was building rapidly. Holy shit, I had to. One of the reasons I had probably been able to last this long was because when I got my new body the system wasn't fully 'charged' so to speak. Well, it had been almost 4 days, and my leeway had run out.
  I was thinking about crossing my legs and sitting on my tail, when thankfully whoever he was came back and said they were ready for me. He asked if I could hurry, because he had "11-12 Saturday" in the betting pool and it was already 11:50. I was more than happy to oblige.
  I tucked my wings tight and squeezed out the door. As I moved down the hall I felt an odd scraping sound. Looking back I saw 2 gouges in the ceiling tile from my horns. Guess I was outgrowing my new home. I would have contemplated this matter further, but I seriously had to go.
  I squeezed out on to the loading dock. "Oh no. You've got to be kidding."
  One of the bio Post-Docs spoke up. "You know we need a stool sample and given your size this is the best we could come up with."
  The "best they could come up with" amounted to me dangling my rear off the edge of the dock and crapping into a lined container. There was no regard for my privacy.
  "There's no way I'm... Is that a camera? Fuck this!"
   I felt like flying out of there and going off to shit in the woods, but a new wave of pressure told me I didn't have any other options. I slinked over to the side of the loading platform and slid my tail over the side.
  Tough it out, old boy, I thought to myself. After all, it's for science. It's a natural process, there's nothing shameful about this. Everybody here is a professional with advanced degrees. Well, maybe not those guys over there. Are they painters? Aw man, they're looking at me. Being a dragon sucks.
  My tail was way too heavy to lift up, so I put my legs on the lip of the dock and rested my tail on the pavement, arching it over the container. After that I just let the good times roll.
  Fortunately there weren't any typical 'human' noises to compound my embarrassment. Just the soft sound of the shit hitting the can. I saw the research staff try to look away and not seem interested, but they were completely unsuccessful in their attempt. I thought I even heard a snicker. My dragon side was telling me to slash out with my claws and drink the hot warm blood that gushed forth. My human side just wanted to cry. The result was I just remained as still as a rock and stared at the brown brick wall.
  It took about 2 minutes until my system was completely flushed, even then I just kept staring right at that one brick with the crack. It caught my eye because it was split right through the middle. The left face had then eroded away leaving a half-inch depression in the surface of the wall. The inside of the brick was a darker brown than the face. I guess I knew I was done, but I didn't feel like moving.
  I felt a pat of my shoulder. "Come on big fella, you're done, we've got to get in there."
  Out of a sense of pure curiosity, I turned and looked at my handiwork. It was the first I time had seen an honest to god pile of shit. It had to be at least three feet high, and it looked like the gray clay you scoop out of a local riverbank. It was fairly homogenous, with some bits looking more like gravel and some bits that resembled pebbles. The odd part was that even with my sensitive nose, could barely detect an odor. There had to be about 100 pounds of the stuff.
  I was still extremely embarrassed and I wouldn't have been surprised if my silver scales had turned red. Maybe a joke would make me feel better. "Well it looks like you'll need to get the fork-lift to move all this shit. Ha. Ha."
  Well that broke the tension and everyone started to laugh and pat me on my back saying what a good sport I was. I said I needed a drink and a can of Bud appeared out of nowhere. I popped it open with my claw and chugged it to a chorus of more laughs. I guess things weren't that bad, well, excluding the beer. Dragons prefer stuff imported from Germany. But I guess constant scrutiny and domestic beer is a small price to pay for being a dragon.
  While the "team" was dealing with the shit I was met by Mr. Good News himself, the honourable 'Dr.' Winston Smith.
  "There have been some fears about your ability to fit in the building. We think it's best if you stay outside, until we can determine what to do. But first I'm going to need a few measurements."
  I lay down on the motor pool pavement, and when you measured between the chalk lines I was 31 feet long with a 12-foot tail. According to their best estimates I had been 15-20 feet long when I had first transformed. Aside from this fact being sort of freaky, I had no clue where I was going to live.
  Now I didn't get cold but my food sure could, and as I sat out here amidst the wonder decor of the motor pool, my lasagna was rapidly losing its appeal and my beverage was starting to ice over.
  "Hey Mike, is that you?"
  I turned around and saw my friend Ian. Ian was a Junior physics major and President of the Society of Physics Students, my favourite club.
  "Dude, you look SO cool. We've been trying to see you all week, but Public Safety has the whole area sealed off. They make you wear like ID Badges and stuff. It's a real pain. They only let me in here because I had to talk to the machine shop guys about my NASA project. Well, anyway this is just incredible with you having all the scales and the horns and stuff. Wait, can you fly? I heard you can fly. You were like flying over Long Lane or something."
  I was so relieved to finally see someone who would treat me like a friend, and not an experiment that I interrupted him, "Woah, slow down there." I reached around him with my hand and gave him a friendly shake. I felt a hug would have injured him. "I am so glad to see you! They've kept me here surrounded by biologists doing all kinds of shitty experiments on me. I was scared all you guys had dumped me or something. The only reason people come by is to poke me or stick some sort of camera up my butt."
  "Aw man, that's what they're doing to you? Rough. Well, as I said we've been trying to see you. Yesterday we got pizza and we all came down for lunch, but they said you were tied up in 'important' matters and couldn't be bothered."
  There came that dragon rage again. This situation was definitely going to have to be remedied. Maybe I could rip the roof of their car. That would get their attention. Or maybe I'll just yell at them, or talk, talking is good.
  When my rage had almost completely boiled away I noticed I had been flexing my claws.
  "Woah, those claws look like they could do some serious damage."
  "You'd better believe it, take a look." I unwrapped the tape and let Ian examine my claw in full detail. I then went and put a deep score in an adjacent "No Parking" sign, sending a shower of sparks onto the ground.
  "Pretty neat, huh. Hey, are you busy? Maybe you would want to come with me down to the fields and help me with my flying."
  "Um, yeah, sure. It's Saturday, I've got nothing to do. Just let me drop this stuff off. Hey, can you just leave like this."
  "Yeah, oh sure, I'm not some prisoner. I can come and go as I please." At least I hoped I could, I hadn't tested it yet.
  While Ian dropped off his stuff I gathered up what food I could. I had made a mental note to stay fully fueled while airborne. I looked down at what I had. Shit, this must be costing the school a fortune.
  With my arms full of food I had to walk on my hind legs. I ambled up to the entrance and simply informed one of the security guys I was going down to the fields. He didn't try to stop me, but started to talk urgently into his radio. So with Ian alongside I began my march down to the athletic fields, only to be stopped by low hanging electric lines.
  "Shit, how am I going to get under these?"
  "I don't care how you do it, but I'm standing over here."
  My silver scales were presenting a very tempting path for millions of electrons to head to ground. I needed to exercise the utmost caution. Stupid humans and their infrastructure.
  I found that if I stuck my tail out I could lean way forward and duck under the lines while holding onto my cargo. I finally got under them and turned left on Church St. I then learned that while people might miss an all fours walking dragon with an entourage, they would not miss a lone dragon towering above the street. When I got to the T intersection of Church and Vine, I was met by the sound of screeching and honking horns. Traffic simply stopped and everybody was looking at me as I trundled along. Patrons spilled out of the little package store and the Neon Deli, and stood staring at me with their mouths open like they were attempting to catch flies. There was this one guy who appeared to be trying to make eye contact with me and give me the look of death. I guess life wouldn't be the same without weirdos. I ducked under another power cable, but when I glanced back the man was gone.
  We turned off Church Street, leaving a traffic tangle not even a news van could push through. We walked out to the middle of the field and I deposited my load of edibles on the wet, slushy ground. My goal was to successfully perform a turn and improve my landings. Because Ian had designed and built the SPS blimp, I felt he was quite qualified to give me instruction.
  "Um, maybe if you brought your wing over like this and flapped here to change your direction," explained Ian as watched him do a little dance with his arms outstretched. I was still picking bits of sod off my spikes after my second failed attempt to perform the desired maneuver. I glanced toward the parking lot and saw that the school camera team had finally gotten through the traffic jam and were setting up their equipment. I also saw the Channel 8 news crew out trying to catch some "On the Lighter Side" footage. I was just feeling rested and fueled enough for another go when I spotted someone trudging through the field.
  Since it was only the weekend the only person on campus to yell at me was some Assistant whatever.
  "So are you saying I'm a prisoner here?"
  "No, but --"
  "I can leave when I want?"
  "Yes, but --"
  "But what?"
  "If you keep causing disruptions the town will start to complain, so if you want to leave let us escort you or at least take back roads. You have to think about these things. You'll make everybody's job easier."
  Leave it to reality to send me another message saying 'The Normal Rules Don't Apply.' Let's see, buildings are out and trafficked streets are out. Gee, I wonder if they would 'let' me live on the moon.
  Thanks to Ian's advice, and my body getting sick of the beating it was taking, my wings finally decided to cooperate and I was able to complete a full turn by my sixth try. Ian was jumping up and down and that telltale ache in my wings informed me that it was time to call it a day. I picked up what little food was left and began to talk back towards the Athletic centre and Church Street.
  SPLAT! The food was ruined as it spilled from my grasp and into a puddle of grass. I had a sudden and very strong sense of dread. In the parking lot were three black Chevy Suburbans and pulling up the drive was a 55-foot tractor-trailer. Unless I wanted to give new meaning to the term mobile home I had better turn around and walk the other way. I grabbed Ian and turned him around as I did the same. Maybe we could get in via the back roads. Oh shit!
  "Michael Brotzman I presume? Good afternoon I am, um, Mr. Cutter and this is my 'associate'. We represent the government and we would very much like to have a talk with you."
  Fucking crafty bastards. They had waited for just the right time to strike. A Saturday when the staff, lawyers and scientists were all cuddled at home and the students in their room working off old hangovers or starting new ones. No court orders. No human chains. Just me alone in a field. Fuck, why did I think I could just go on living? I should have been more careful. Fuck, where did these guys come from? I hadn't smelled them or heard them. How did they sneak up on me in the middle of a bloody field! Fuck!
  I spread my wings, bared my sharp teeth and tensed up, ready for the attack that would come. I prepared to launch myself into the air, but I was tired from my practice and wouldn't get very far. Fucking clever bastards.
  "I'm not going anywhere with you," I said in my most aggressive voice.
  "We're not taking you anywhere, we just want to talk."
  "I said I'm not going anywhere with you. Now get out and leave." I wanted to make it verbally clear I wasn't going down without a fight.
  "Snap out of it Mr. Brotzman! If we really wanted to kidnap you, you'd be in Nevada already," the 'associate' chimed in. "Now please stop being a paranoid fool and listen to what we actually have to say before jumping to conclusions."
  "Cute, I wonder how many times that line has actually worked? Well, if you really have something to say, say it from there and say it in front of my friend." I put my hand on Ian's shoulder.
  "Yeah!" he exclaimed, emboldened by my touch.
  "Very well," said Mr. Cutter again. "I have no problem with Mr. Gilbreth listening in. By the way Ian, how is your project for NASA coming along? We were asked to find out."
  "Um, fine," murmured Ian, still confused as to how they knew his identity.
  Mr. Cutter continued, "As you know, at 2 PM our time last Tuesday several hundred Americans, yourself included, were mysteriously transformed. While not all the tests are in, it is reasonable to conclude that the condition is not contagious and does not pose a public health risk. Many government agencies have been working together around the clock to determine what to do about this situation. We have come to the conclusion that you and the other victims currently represent great physical and scientific resources to this country. We have come here today to talk about various partnerships in which all sides might benefit."
  "In case you didn't know, I plan to stay here and complete my education, and I'm not going to agree to anything without talking to the school, my parents and a lawyer."
  "Please, Mr. Brotzman, calm down. We aren't here you make you sign documents or agree to anything, we just want to present some information. It must be obvious to you that in your current state, you will have problems finding accommodations, food, transport, etc, etc. You must also realize that you can provide a wealth of scientific information. You can go places where humans can't and do things remote units are unable to do. Your skills in search and rescue, fire fighting, law enforcement, military service and covert operation would be unique, to say the least. Like it or not, Mr. Brotzman, you are a very hot item, and the government is going to some lengths to recruit your services. We came to the conclusion that you would be much more valuable as a willing partner than as a laboratory specimen. Our visit today is a demonstration of our willingness to be your friend. If you would follow me over to the trailer, you can see that we have brought more than promotional literature."
  He started walking back towards the parking lot, and soon stopped when he realized I wasn't following.
  "Mr. Brotzman, I do wish you would trust us just a little bit. Frankly, after reviewing the history in your file, I expected you to be much more cooperative. Anyway, we're not here to make you do anything, so you can stand out here in the wet and the cold." With that he started walking away. Wait, history? File!? What the hell exactly did they have on me? ::Sigh:: I guess if they really did want to stuff me in a trailer and drive me to the desert, they probably would have done it by now. I might as well follow. I noticed that Ian was starting to shiver.

part 3
 2 3