Curse of the Dragon

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Curse of the Dragon Page 4

by Madison Johns


  I stared in my opened mouth in the mirror. It looked normal. I stuck my tongue out and even that was fine. I removed the contact lenses that were causing my eyes to throb.

  I pulled off my shirt and turned, and the reflection sent me to the floor with a thump. I gripped the edges of the counter and pulled myself up. Along both shoulder blades were two wounds that were larger than they had been yesterday, now twelve inches long. They slightly oozed blood, and a noxious odor drifted up my nostrils. My palms slapped the countertop and I stared at my eyes. They weren’t black any longer, but they suddenly constricted to a slit-shaped pupil and then back to normal. I screamed until the sound of my phone ringing distracted me.

  I picked up the phone but didn’t say anything, and within ten seconds the call cut off. If you don’t say hello the computer system that makes the call for the telemarketer will automatically end the call.

  I changed into workout clothes as I had planned to head to the gym. Once on the road, I felt compelled to do something completely different.

  I walked into Hank’s Diner and ordered the half-pound burger special. The server, who thankfully wasn’t Mable, took my order. I felt guilty, as though I was about to cheat on my boyfriend, when I paid for the burger that I ordered to go.

  I walked to my car, greasy-stained bag in hand, and drove to the middle of the parking lot at the shopping center where I eagerly consumed the burger, enjoying every bite. I hoped my stomach could handle the meat because I’d been a vegetarian since I was a teenager.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin at the knock on my window. I quickly concealed the remnants of the burger in its bag and powered down my window to Detective Blake’s searching eyes.

  His brows drew down and he asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I didn’t realize it was a crime to eat lunch in a parking lot.”

  “Crime, eh?” He smiled as he leaned in and swiped ketchup off my chin. “I thought you were a vegan.”

  “I-I am.”

  “Your meat breath speaks otherwise.”

  “What do you want, Blake?”

  “I was hoping we could chat about my case. Maybe you could tell me why you were at the scene.”

  I frowned. “Did you put a tracking device on my car when I went for my oil change?”

  “I wanted to take a second look. I couldn’t help but notice the way you tore down the mountain like the Devil was chasing you.”

  “That’s a good analogy.”

  “Unlock your door so we can have a chat.”

  Five

  I sighed as Blake climbed in the passenger’s side of my car. It was slightly humorous watching him attempting to adjust his six-foot frame to my midsize sedan.

  My brows rose slightly. “So?”

  “So I suppose you didn’t speak to the psychics yet.”

  “Nope. I haven’t had the chance yet.”

  “Why were you up at the crime scene?”

  “I can’t say I was really at the scene. There wasn’t anything indicating it, like crime scene tape.”

  “You didn’t remove it?”

  “What can you tell me about the scene?”

  “Why don’t you describe where you were?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I followed a path that I figured you cops barreled down. Whatever happened to leave no trace behind?”

  Blake ran a hand over his closely-cropped hair. “Can you be a little more specific -- and without disparaging my department?”

  “Sorry, you know how I am. Anyway, I followed a pathway off the main hiking trail.” No need to tell him it was where I had gone jogging that day. He knew too much already about me being near the scene. “I ran across a clearing and found a cabin that had recently been burned down.”

  “Cabin, you say?” Blake muttered as he jotted something down in his ever-present notebook.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if you typed the information on a notepad like everyone else?”

  Blake tried not to smile, but shook his head at me. “I’d rather use a pen and notebook. More reliable.”

  “So you can take it anywhere to look over instead of … .”

  “Can we get back to where you were?”

  “Waste of time,” I said. “We should just head out there. You cops might have missed something.”

  “You’d like that wouldn’t you.”

  “Just stating the obvious.” I grinned. “It would be better if you took a look yourself. Like I already told you, I thought it was the crime scene.”

  Blake’s brow’s furrowed. “You know how us cops are. We’re big on crime scene tape.”

  I drove back up the mountain and led the way up the trail. I didn’t want to go back there. I was too frightened to, especially after what had happened.

  Blake walked toward the cabin and pulled out his camera and snapped a few photos. He turned to me and I pointed out the weeds that had been cut down.

  I jogged into the center of the clearing and pointed out the flame-damaged leaves.

  “I thought this was odd. It’s not close enough to the cabin.”

  “It’s hard to determine how long ago the cabin was burned down. Even odder that it didn’t cause a wildfire.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I agreed. “So this wasn’t the crime scene?”

  “No, but it might offer clues.”

  “I think the victim might have holed out here.”

  “I’ll take you to the crime scene,” Blake offered. “But you better zip your lip about it.”

  I shrugged. “Who would I tell? You know I don’t have any friends.”

  Blake gasped. “And here I counted you as one of my friends.”

  “You don’t have any friends either,” I teased.

  “Must be why my phone doesn’t ring unless it’s crime-related.”

  Blake had us backtracking and moving onto the trail that ran along the cliff near the waterfall. He took the lead and we headed off the beaten trail and avoided the poison ivy while trudging through the knee-high ferns.

  I thought I knew the forest, but not where Blake was taking me. I jumped back as I spotted a large owl perched on a low branch. The owl was brown with striped barring on its chest. His eyes locked with mine and he hooted in greeting. I so didn’t need to be greeted by a terrifying owl, especially in the daylight.

  My eyes narrowed when I lost Detective Blake. I rushed ahead until I caught sight of the crime scene tape.

  Blake held it up and I ducked under it. Blake led the way through a trickle of a creek and pointed out two trees. “We found the remains over there.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  Blake shook his head. “Hell if I know, but something ripped him apart.”

  “Animal?”

  “I can’t say for sure until forensics comes back. Could be an animal or a sick son of a bitch.”

  “Did the remains resemble a bear or cougar mauling?”

  Blake shook his head.

  “So what are your thoughts?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like this. The man’s midsection was missing.”

  Blake’s face was ashen and he wasn’t telling me something.

  “Let it out, Blake. I can help.”

  “I don’t want your help, Alex. I don’t want you anywhere near this.”

  I touched his shoulder hesitantly.

  “What are you doing?” Blake hissed as he jerked away.

  “Sorry, I-I was just trying to comfort you.” I shrugged and attempted a smile. “You looked like you could use a hug.”

  “Hug? Really? Is that the best you can do?”

  “It’s all I’ve got.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Blake muttered and I reluctantly followed him out.

  I glanced over the waterfall that roared to the river below with two miles of rough rapids that dumped into the lake. I stared over the edge of the cliff when I caught sight of climbing rope dangling from the edge of the cliff opposite from me. It was near the waterfall lookout and mor
e than accessible to check out once I sent Blake on his happy way.

  “I know I’m not walking that fast,” Blake complained, and I hurried to catch up to him.

  “You worried I’d fall off the cliff?” I smiled. “Eaten by animals?”

  I plowed into Blake when he abruptly stopped. He didn’t turn, but he hissed between his teeth. “That isn’t funny, Alex.”

  “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”

  I parted ways with Blake in the same parking lot I’d found him … or he found me. I knew Blake considered me a potential suspect. And I had to admit my memory block had me questioning the events of that morning. Could I have been the person responsible? No, it couldn’t have been me. None of my clothing had been blood stained.

  My shoulders twitched, the ache gaining in intensity. I had to get my back checked out before my wound went septic -- if it wasn’t already.

  I drove to the strip mall and hurried into the urgent care center. I held the counter of the reception desk and winced in pain before a medical assistant quickly ushered me into an exam room. She took my vitals and her eyes widened as she stared at me. “Are you f-feeling okay?” she asked.

  “My back is killing me.”

  “Are you feeling faint or dizzy?”

  “Not anymore than normal.” I smiled.

  The medical assistant took my blood pressure again and pressed her fingers to my wrist. She then held the thermometer. “Open your mouth.”

  All I could think about is how I breathed fire not long ago, and said, “I’m sure I don’t have a temperature.”

  “I have to take it, miss. The doctor will need all of your vitals to determine what’s wrong with you.”

  “I’m here because I have abrasions on my back.”

  “A high temperature might indicate an infection,” she countered.

  “How about we let the doctor determine that?”

  The young woman’s ponytail bounced as she turned and tossed a hospital gown at me. “Put this on with the open part in the back.”

  My eyes followed the young woman, who sighed as she left the room. She was obviously miffed and I felt bad about it. But what would happen if my temperature had risen to a critical degree. They’d rush me to the hospital and put me in an ice bath or whatever it is they do to people with temperatures that can’t be brought down.

  I tiptoed to the door and slowly opened it. The medical assistant was waving her hands frantically as she spoke to a man wearing blue scrubs with a stethoscope draped around his neck.

  He put a hand on the young woman’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. He was trying to calm her, but why did she need calming? Were my vitals that out of whack or was she that frustrated because I wouldn’t let her take my temperature? Maybe I had overreacted. I felt my brow; it certainly felt normal to me.

  I was so consumed with my thoughts that I never changed into the gown. A knock at the door announced the doctor as his frame filled the doorway.

  “I’m Dr. Drake,” he greeted. He picked up the thermometer. “Open up.”

  I begrudgingly opened my mouth to receive the thermometer. I wasn’t getting anywhere being stubborn or worrying about the reading.

  He turned his back to face the computer and said, “Slip on your gown so I can examine your back.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I should have listened to directions in the first place. I took my shirt off and quickly put the gown on as instructed while the doctor’s back was turned. I had decided to not wear a bra today because the wounds were so weepy.

  Dr. Drake turned to me and smiled. “So what do we have going on back here?”

  He cleared his throat. “How did you injure yourself?”

  “I don’t exactly know, but I passed out the other day, and I can’t seem to remember what happened after that.”

  “Have you been eating regularly? Taking any prescribed medications as instructed?”

  “My appetite is fine and I don’t take any drugs.”

  “Is it possible you were drugged?”

  “No. I was alone when it happened.” I opted to exclude the part that it happened after I went jogging and anything to do with a black shadow. That’s something I’d keep from everyone.

  “I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”

  “Is it infected?”

  “It’s infected all right, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you were septic or have a blood infection. But I’d have to see your blood test results before I could diagnose that. The wound also should be cleaned out. You have something in the wound that needs to be removed. I’ll call an ambulance for you.”

  “I don’t really need to go to the hospital, do I?”

  “I suggest you go directly there. Your blood pressure and pulse are dangerously high.”

  “How was my temperature?”

  “You have a low-grade fever, but if you don’t go to the hospital now I’m afraid it will increase.”

  “I’ll drive myself to the hospital.”

  “I can’t allow you to do that with your vital signs.” He pulled a set of tweezers from a drawer and donned non-latex gloves and removed a bottle of some sort of solution and square gauze pads. “I’ll clean the wound before you go.”

  Dr. Drake placed one hand on my shoulder and I nearly jumped off the table when he applied a damp gauze pad against my wound. “Does that hurt?”

  “Yes,” I gasped as my vision blurred and I shuddered.

  “I’m going to try to remove the object now.”

  I gritted my teeth and jumped off the table and hissed at the doctor when I felt him tugging at my wound. “That’s attached!”

  “It can’t be,” Dr. Drake said as he held up a set of medical tweezers pinching a black scale. “This is a foreign object.”

  I backed up. “I beg to differ with you. I’ll be leaving now.”

  “You can’t. I told you I’d have to call an ambulance to transport you to the hospital.”

  “I don’t think you understand. I’m not going to any hospital.”

  “But your vitals … .” He moved back to the computer. “Your blood pressure is three-hundred over two-hundred. I can’t believe you haven’t had a stroke or heart attack.”

  “Your equipment is obviously not functioning properly.”

  “And your pulse is two-hundred.”

  I felt my chest and I didn’t feel any different. I glanced up at the clock on the wall because I couldn’t bear his staring.

  Dr. Drake cleared his throat. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  I changed back into my shirt the minute he left the room. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I peeked out the door.

  “There’s something wrong with that woman and it isn’t anything I’ve ever seen before,” Dr. Drake told the receptionist, I think I’ll make a call to that government official who stopped by last week.”

  I gulped, closed the door again, and ran to the window. I turned the knob to unlock it, but it was either stuck or locked in some other fashion, probably to stop patients from escaping.

  I locked the door and broke the window with a canister filled with cotton balls. I didn’t have much time to clean all the glass from the frame as the sound of pounding footsteps spurred me to action. I squeezed through the small window, gathering several cuts, and landed in the mulch of the landscaping face first. I then raced to my car and tore out of the parking lot.

  Six

  I pounded the steering wheel. How stupid could I be going there? I knew something was wrong with me and now there was evidence. The doctor removed a tissue containing scales from my wound. It felt as if he was trying to remove one of my ribs. The scales weren’t a foreign object; somehow they were part of me.

  I drove along the road that led to the waterfall lookout. I imagined the doctor would report me, but instead they rushed me into the room so quickly they neglected to get my information. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about some unnamed government official pounding at my door.

&n
bsp; I whizzed along the vicious curves on the narrow road that hugged the mountain until I saw the “road closed” sign. I would have turned around, but the restricted space didn’t allow it. There was no way I was backing all the way back down the road. I gripped the steering wheel harder as I mowed down the sign and fishtailed further up the road.

  I parked at the lookout and was thankful for once that rocks were falling from the mountain. I wouldn’t be disturbed I stepped out of my car and walked to the fence separating the lookout from the cliff over the waterfall. I located the blue climbing rope I had spotted from near the crime scene. I knelt down and took hold of the rope, giving it a gentle tug. It moved several inches before catching on something. I then lay prone and gingerly edged my head over the edge of the cliff. Whatever the rope was caught on was snagged in a crevice in the rock face.

  I switched positions and intermittently thumped the rope with my feet until it broke free. I rolled to my stomach and strained my shoulder and backs of my arms until I remembered I had increased strength. But it wasn’t warranted in this situation. If I yanked too hard on the rope it might get stuck again.

  It took nearly another five minutes until I heard a clanging and I pulled a long object covered with burlap over the edge of the cliff. I scooted back under the fence with the object, ignoring the road burn I was gathering.

  I pulled myself up and staggered back to my car. The few minutes seemed more like a half an hour before I was able to fully regain my breath. While I wasn’t afraid of heights I had just been on the edge of a cliff when rocks began falling off the mountain. It was unbelievable I hadn’t careened to my death.

  I touched the burlap and encountered a solid object, but I didn’t want to unwrap it here. I backed up and headed for home.

  I collapsed on my couch and eased the burlap-covered object to the floor. I flipped on the television and sat up straight when I saw a photo of myself fill the screen.

  “If anyone knows this woman they are asked to contact the police,” newscaster Helen Penny announced. “The woman suffers from a serious illness deemed extremely contagious.” She pressed a hand against her earpiece. “This is just coming in and we’re going live to reporter Holly Holstein.

 

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