The Moon Dragon

Chapter Eight

An alarm blared through the building, wailing in a tone that alerted every person in the building.

Red emergency lights rotated, spilling their ominous color down the dark hallways that came alive with trampling feet and dozens of people in black HAZMAT suits and helmets that covered their faces.

Their radios crackled to life and reported the same voice in unison. "The specimen has escaped the containment room. Aggression is likely, proceed with caution. Sweep the building. It must be found immediately."

Heavy boots thumped down the corridor. Stun-guns rested loosely in gloved hands. Black visors blocked all view of the person within.

The minutes ticked by. Radios on the comm-system crackled often, reporting.

"Mess-room; clear."

"Corridor B2; clear."

"Barracks; clear."

"Hangar; clear."

"That's everywhere in the building with no result. All units, exit the building and start sweeping the grounds. If there's nothing, start searching the surroundings; start with a mile-radius sweep before expanding the parameter. Stay on comms, call for backup at any sign."

The soldiers poured out the exits. The sky was dark. The crescent moon watched.

Soon, they were pouring through the gates and into the forest surrounding the building, splitting up to cover more ground. Flashlights on tactical stun-guns lit up the foliage, boots crunched in fallen leaves and left footprints in soft dirt. Twigs snapped. Torches spun to watch an owl spook and flap away.

One soldier broke off from their search-path, marching further away from other personnel. Their radio crackled and spoke in the dark. They ignored it. When the lights of the torches were reflecting off tree-branches in the far distance behind them, they bolted.

They ran and didn't stop running, and when they couldn't run they walked, not stopping until the sky began to lighten in the East, the black night graying and the stars flickering out in the coming day. Only then did they stop, finding a sharp incline in the floor that led to a shallow creek. A fallen log hung over the tiny cliff, providing a perfect shallow to hide from any viewers.

The person jumped down into the shallow and pressed their back into the dirt wall. They froze and listened for a long, long moment, and when they heard nothing but the chirp of forest-life and the bubbling of the creek, they reached both hands up and twisted off their helmet.

Sylvia gasped in fresh air. She had been suffocating in the suit after running for hours, desperate to hide her appearance until she knew she was in the clear. She was sweaty and tired and her legs ached like anything, her silver hair tousled from the helmet. She didn't care, she was just so glad to have a human head of hair again.

She leant over and splashed her face in the creek's water. It looked clean, but she knew better than to drink it, so she just enjoyed its cool.

It was her plan falling perfectly into place that she managed to find an abandoned HAZMAT suit just small enough to fit her. Blending in with the rest of the soldiers was then pretty simple, just following the crowd. As far as she knew, nobody was suspicious of her. They were looking for a dragon, after all, not a person.

As the sky lightened, she heard the thump-thump-thump of helicopter blades chopping through the sky. They were searching for their runaway specimen by air now that it was light enough to see without torches. She watched the big black helicopter pass low enough over her hiding-spot to rustle the highest leaves. She pressed her back into the dirt, seeing the sun glint off the twin guns at the front of the helicopter. The craft flew onwards, and Sylvia felt like she could breathe again.