Friday, a week had passed since the 'interview', Anon left the building that day with mixed feelings of hope and dread, in some ways he couldn’t believe that she’d still be around, he hadn’t fully come to terms with her being gone but when the man broke the news that evening he felt the pit he tried to close for these past 5 months open up again inside his stomach. Anon sat on the edge of his bed in the same old apartment they used share, it was routine now, sitting on the bed pondering then checking the time before snapping like new bottle of whiskey when its opened, he'd head down to the store and grab a bottle of the amber liquid, maybe some cigarettes too. It wasn't like this at first, maybe it was the shock that kept him going but the first few months he spent working in a small store part-time, after it all went down, with the worker shortage and his studies on “indefinite pause” he went in full-time. More pay and a cheaper cost of living left him with some disposable income... At first he'd just buy a game he had on his backlog, maybe a new pair of headphones, but soon enough he tasted the sweetness of liquor and so, the whiskey river took his mind. With a cold “Get better and then we'll take you back” from his boss he was let go shorty after, Anon realized how deep he'd fallen when his boss gently slapped his back as he opened the door, while he walked back home his inner dialogue spoke of “Getting his shit straight” or “Throwing those fucking bottles down the drain” maybe it was the post-hangover clarity, maybe it was a real thought of self improvement, but when he got home that day he was overcome by anger and grief at the sight of her clothes still dangling from the hangers in the closet. And a new routine embedded itself deep within his cortex: wallow, idle, give in and promise this was the last time. Repeat every three to four days. Not this this time though, when he left the building last week he wanted nothing more than to get home and drink everything he could get his hands on, but surprisingly he didn't, he just sat at his desk, waddling between it and the bed while the ashtray fattened with ash and crushed cigarettes, that day he was told to return within a week so, after standing up, closing his door and short walk he found himself standing in front of the glass maws to the grey concrete building. The structure was an exercise in brutalist architecture, typical government stuff, made to be efficient on the inside and ugly and imposing on the outside. stepping inside Anon walked towards the desk across the reception area; a big room with a high ceiling, long chains holding fluorescent lights hanging from crude metal fixtures, the clean tiled floor growing from the doors to the desks and spilling over into the corridors that flanked the room, at the end a wall of desks stood separated by thin opaque white plastic panels, in front a few steel posts tied with black cord formed waiting queues.

Anon sighed and approached one of the desks, he’d been told to wear something she would recognize, luckily Anon’s style hadn’t changed since then; he wore the same blue jeans and green jacket he always did. Sitting on a cheap office chair an employee busied himself over some paperwork, Anon stepped up and the man raised his head expectant, he showed him the papers he’d received the last week, the man at the desk nodded while reading the paper “3rd floor, office number 12.” he told Anon while pointing to the right and putting the paper away in one of the drawers. A long corridor extended where the man pointed with an elevator at the end, Anon could see his distorted reflection on the somewhat scratched stainless steel doors, a few seconds after calling the elevator he stepped inside then he pushed the button marked with a big yellow three, the doors closed and the metal box began its ascend, Anon paced around the small space in circles, his hands buried deep in his pockets, gripping a cigarette pack and his treasured pink lighter then, with a sharp *ping* the elevator stopped and the doors reopened, stepping out he looked around, three corridors ran off from the elevator: one to his left, another to his right and one in front of him, he started walking forward below the ceiling lined with square lights reflecting off the clean tiled floor, rows of doors flanked him as he continued, each door having a small plaque with the corresponding number. Anon looked from side to side as he went reading the numbers until he arrived at the door marked with twelve, he stood there, hands still in his pockets, looking down at his shoes and back again at the door, closing his eyes a thought formed in his mind: “Should I just leave? Just fucking run and get as far away from here as I can.” He opened his eyes and thunder rumbled in his eardrums leaving a piecing ring, he tried to close his eyes again and shake that awful sound but it became louder, he ground his teeth and covered his ears, clenching them with his nails to make it stop. After a long minute the ringing stated to subside, slowly letting his grip off his now red ears he plunged his sweating hands into his pockets again, he felt the lighter and opened his eyes, before the ringing could be drowned by the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights he knocked twice on the door and tried to compose himself.

“Come in!” a gruff voice exclaimed from inside the office, Anon turned the knob and the room began to reveal itself as he slowly pushed; a few old filling cabinets lined the bare concrete wall, books and folders scattered atop them, some with visible dust and others open as if they’d just been left there. Anon continued turning the door, his hand still gripping the knob and coating it with sweat until he was beneath the door frame, further inside a desk stood centred in the back of the room, the scratched paint on the metal panels and the weathered wood top showed the its age, lying face down on the corner was a picture frame and in the centre a few sheets of paper stapled together, besides them a half-filled ashtray with a burning cigarette holding on to the edge of the walls. Anon stood still, still gripping the doorknob fiercely, as if he would be carried away if he let go. After some though the looked forwards, he recognized the man sitting behind the desk, it was the same one from the interview last week, wearing the same green vest and that distinct watch (and scar) on his wrist. The man looked up and stared Anon down for a second before speaking up “Take a seat Mr. Mous” he extended his open hand and signalled at the two metal folding chairs standing in front of the desk, Anon finally let go of the knob and sat down. The man took the cigarette from the ashtray and puffed it before looking down at the papers, Anon sat in silence staring inquisitively at the overturned picture frame. A smoggy breeze hit Anon’s cheek before making its way into his nostrils where the pungent but familiar smell carved its way up and into Anon’s mind, he turned his head back to the man but before Anon could make up his mind and break his blank expression the man spoke “I’ll be brief” Rubbing his temples he crushed the cigarette on the ashtray “the report here indicates that a blue pterodactyl with silver hair and plumed wings has been spotted in sector D6” he spoke quickly. “after some discussion we concluded that someone with a close enough relationship with the *specimen*…” The ringing in his ears returned suddenly almost as if a bomb had exploded directly above his head. The way the man spoke: uninterested and seemingly bored... And that word “specimen”, his eye twitched involuntarily as his inner monologue picked up the slack inside his mind: “Specimen, not even subject, or patient” his lower eyelid writhed shaking his whole left cheek, his corpse like gaze piercing right through the man in front of him, the ringing growing louder plugging up the nerves going up to his eardrums. “Are you listening kid?” The ringing was cut abruptly buy the man's words “A 'specimen'” Anon spoke “is 'that' was she is now?” the man's expression turned from the blankness of routine to surprised intrigue as Anon fixed his eyes on his “don't you fucking dare” anger, disgust and indignation sculpted Anon's face now, their chisels cutting wrinkled downward folds on his frown, but his eyes and mouth remained steady as he spoke in a sincere voice that couldn't betray his feelings. The man closed his eyes and scratched the side of his nose before slowly opening them up again with a look of content, Anon couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, his eye twitched yet again. Then the man exhaled and nodded “Listen kid” he sounded less detached than before, a hint of compassion weaving slightly around his words “I don't write this stuff. It's just some idiot-proof government paper I've been handed by the desk-jockeys upstairs...” Silence enveloped the room, not even the lights dared disturb them with their buzz, Anon sighed and raised his hand to his forehead, massaging his brow with his thumb and ring fingers. The man took out another cigarette and lit it, taking a puff he savoured the smoke before letting it go free into the confined room. “You've been given a chance, not many others have had that luck” the man said while passing his hand gently over his watch feeling the scratches and his scar, his tone had changed from the usual cold and monotonous one, now his words carried stoic anguish almost reaching defeat. Anon had lowered his head, the familiar sight of his shoes filled his vision yet again, he lowered his hand and placed it firmly in his pocket the tips of his fingers making contact with the lighter. After a few minutes of silence Anon looked up at the man “Continue please” the man nodded satisfied and continued reading the paper.
After a long winded and technical reading of the document the man started with the field reports of the sightings in the D6 area. Anon tried to keep his composure, but with every word of her description he felt like a battering ram smashing against his throat from inside, he clenched his hands his nails driving themselves deep into his palms. The man stopped without finishing the report and looked up from the paper “Do you recognize” he paused briefly “the 'individual' described here?” Anon turned his head “Didn't you already ask me this last week” Indignation rang in his reply. The man lowered his head in agreement and leaned left to open one of the drawers, grabbing the papers in front of him and banishing them back into the darkness of the old metal box he pulled another sheet of paper and a pen before placing them on the table and sliding them towards Anon. “Sign there” Anon picked up the pen, he pointed at the bottom of the page and looked at the man, he nodded. After a moment of deliberation, the man pushed the chair back and stood up “Come on”. His imposing figure towered over Anon as he adjusted his vest and checked his pockets before signalling Anon to stand up again. “Come on, we are heading to D6” The man walked past Anon before he could mutter a word, he too got up from the chair and followed him, before exiting Anon glanced at the overturned picture frame on the man’s desk again. After a short and quiet elevator ride both men spilled into the corridor before reaching the glass doors and exiting the building. Anon stepped up and stood beside the man, with his hands still inside his pockets Anon grabbed the lighter and his pack of cigs, opening it up he looked down; inside his two last cigarettes hugged each other, cowering in the corner, after a moment Anon lifted the box towards the man, he looked at the pack and then at Anon before nodding, plucking one out he put it between his lips, before Anon could hand him his lighter he’d already taken out his own, the man clicked it a few times before a thin plume of fire emerged from the dented steel hood, putting away the lighter the man puffed away. Anon looked down at the almost empty pack again, the last cigarette was standing upside-down, with the filter at the bottom and the brown tobacco staring right at him, last cig, the lucky one.

Both men smoked outside the building, the cover that extended from the facade shielded them with cool shade from the blazing sun in the sky, they puffed away, letting the gentle breeze push aside the smoke, carrying it away to dance with the fallen leaves strewn about the concrete stairs. After a few minutes a car stopped in front of them, dried mud and dust stained its sides and tires, the paint on the roof and hood was faded from the harsh sunlight and a few scratches and dents adorned the body. The driver’s door swung open and a short man exited the vehicle, wearing cargo shorts and an oversized grey vest the driver couldn’t convey the same imposing aura that the man had, Anon and the man walked up and the driver greeted them. “Am I late boss?” the driver asked while opening the backseat door “No, its fine, we finished earlier than expected” The man answered as he walked around the car and took his seat in front. With everyone now inside the driver started the engine, the tired workhorse whined before coming alive and with a black puff of smoke from the exhaust the 4x4 started rolling along the pavement. They drove for an hour on well paved roads, the three men sitting in silence, Anon thought about asking the driver to turn on the radio but after some deliberation he concluded that it was better to just keep quiet, the sound of the engine and the tires rolling along the road would suffice. After a few turns the asphalt began disintegrating and lush green vegetation started encroaching the dirt road, the man turned on his seat and looked at Anon “We are twenty minutes away from the observation post, you’ll have to go on foot from there” Anon looked at him and gave a firm nod, the man continued “when we get there you’ll get a backpack with some water, a map and a compass. There’s an old hiking trail east, follow it and you’ll reach a cave, we believe that’s where the—“ Anon was lifted from his seat as the car passed over a big hump on the road, the man was cut off, after giving the driver a murderous look he turned back to Anon who was adjusting his seatbelt “that’s were 'she' should be” Anon nodded again, he tried to give the man a half-smile but his guts felt heavy, the bumps on the road and the anxiety held his mouth shut. “You’ll be fine, kid” the man said before turning forwards.

And indeed, after twenty minutes they reached the 'observation post', Anon expected some sort of watchtower with antennas and monitoring equipment, but he was surprised and a bit disappointed when the driver parked outside an old lodge, they got out of the car and Anon looked at the small building “Wait here” the man ordered Anon as he walked towards the wooden door in the front of the small bulding. The driver leaned on his door, he noticed Anon’s raised eyebrows and spoke “Not what you expected?” The driver smiled while looking down at the gravel covered ground, Anon paused for a second and replied “Not really, no… You guys have a bathroom in there at least?” The man laughed and slapped the car bonnet “Yeah and a swimming pool in the back!” he continued laughing at his joke, but Anon looked at him confused, the driver, still chuckling, looked at Anon and moved his head from side to side, Anon nodded. A few minutes passed and the man came out of the building holding a backpack and a folded map, he signalled Anon to come with. Reaching the man, they both walked to the edge of the building, at the back of the structure was a clearing with some wooden picnic tables, the dried ground hadn’t been disturbed in some time and the garbage bins were empty. “See that path over there, the one with the white sing” the man pointed at an opening on the treeline, a small white sing adorned the start of a path. “that is the trail that runs east” The man unfolded the map and showed it to Anon. The map looked surprisingly new, the back covered with ads for restaurants and other tourist locations and at the bottom the seal of the Volcaldera board of tourism and a phone number, the map itself showed an area of roughly twenty kilometres squared, the trails were highlighted in bright colours and along them some locations of interests were marked with small pictures. The man put his hand on Anon’s shoulder and spoke “Follow the white trail and you’ll reach the cave” he followed the aforementioned 'white trail' with his index finger until he reached a point marked with a black dot, besides it a picture of the mouth of a cave with and arrow pointing at the dot. “Good luck kid” the man gave Anon a gentle slap in the back and walked away.

Anon stared walking along the path, thinking about the past few months, telling himself that he’d find her inside that cave, he'd look into her eyes and witness that beautiful amber glow once again. But for now, he had to keep going, dragging his sore feet and old shoes through the metaphorical mud. At last he arrived, he didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d started; thirty minutes, an hour? The sun was now lower in the sky for sure, but it didn’t want to touch the horizon yet. Anon stood near the entrance, he couldn’t see inside the cave, putting down his backpack he let the cool breeze freshen up his back damp with sweat, he gazed into the darkness of the cave and paused, his hands instinctively retreated back into his pockets, grabbing the lighter Anon took a good look at it again, he felt like he could stand there for eternity, anxiety mixing with the bile inside his stomach building up an awful cocktail, he could feel it trying to reach his throat and escape through his mouth. When the tide was just licking the edge of his gullet when he swallowed hard, pushing against it and sending it back, he placed the lighter back into his pocket and stepped towards the cave. Stepping pass the thin shadow line he turned on the flashlight he'd been given and pointed it towards the cave walls, the smooth lines of the stone outside turned into jagged angles as the cave carved deeper into the earth, the ground covered with dirt and gravel crunching beneath Anon’s shoes as he stepped further inside. Turning his torch from the walls and pointing it forwards Anon saw something behind a thick stalagmite, he directed the beam towards the spot.