Kathryn is not where I hope to find her, but I find her nonetheless.

The nurse at the long term rehab clinic for amputees in Provo tells me she’d been discharged this morning and had an appointment to meet with the prosthesis located a few blocks away early the next morning.

I spend the rest of the day going to fast food places and sending the staff and their clientele to Paradise. And stealing a couple burgers and burritos along the way. I can’t buy anything because I don’t have a card, any cash, or even an ID. And even if I did, no doubt it would be tracked down by Peter Rabbet.

I go to a small hunting and camping retail store, send everyone there to Paradise, then steal a bunch of supplies. Like boxes of dried food, knives, plaid shirts, ropes, a few guns, and anything else I can think of I might soon need, including a blow up mattress I use to sleep on in the bed of my truck.

The next morning, I’m sitting on a metal fold out chair in an alcove of an office building. It roped off as the prosthetics waiting room. I’m early, so I don’t miss her. A little after nine AM Kathryn comes walking down the hallway. A hallway, I note, that is painted … beige.

She’s wearing large sunglasses and hoop earings. She’s even more pretty than I remember her, with her hair dropped down and her makeup done up. She’s still in scrubs—the determined nurse’s favorite attire—and she has her arm hidden inside a purse strapped to her shoulder. No doubt to hide the stump.

She checks in with the receptionist on the other side of the alcove then sits as far away from me as possible. I watch her pick up a magazine, fumble with it left handed, then toss it back down on the table in frustration.

“Go get her, slick,” says Xeno.

I suck in a breath, let it out, then stand up. I walk over and casually sit next to her. She gives me a quick glance then turns away, clearing her throat.

“Hi,” I say.

She pulls out her phone, purposefully ignoring me.

“Look,” I say. “I just want to say I’m … I’m really sorry.”

She looks at me, eyebrows scrunched down in confusion, looks away, then spins to face me. It’s the fastest double take I’ve ever seen.

“You,” she says, whipping off her glasses and recoiling away from me.

“I don’t have a lot of time to explain what happened,” I say, “but I think there’s a way to regrow your hand.”

She just looks at me, speechless. By her expression I have no idea what’s going through her head. Probably a lot. I can tell, however, that she’s been crying.

“Listen”, I say, “When you get there, there’s a fruit that looks like a watermelon had a baby with a dragon. That’s—”

“A lemon had a baby with a dragon fruit, you idiot,” comes Xeno’s voice.

“Oh right, what he said,” I say, pointing to the lips on my hand.

Her mouth is open and she looks horrified, frozen in place.

I’m about to tell her about my mission to save the world, just blurt out everything on my mind, when the receptionist calls her name.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

We both jump.

Then Kathryn nearly flies out of her chair.

I stand up, grab her arm—her good arm—with a, “Just wait.”

“Let go of m—” was all she gets out before she vanishes and her scrubs and bag fall to the floor.

There’s a soft gasp as the receptionist behind the counter covers her mouth.

I look up.

“Oh, great—smooth, Ex-Lax!” shouts Xeno.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I say, reaching out to the young receptionist.

“What does it look like?” says Xeno.

“Shut up!” I say “No, not you. Wait, wait, no, come back. Where are you going?”

I rush to the counter and watch the girl vanish into an inter-office corridor, already on the phone with someone. Most likely the police.

I try the door that leads into the back office but it’s locked.

“We should just get out of here,” Xeno says.

“If she tells the cops she saw a man make a woman vanish, it’s going to get back to Peter Rabbet, and if that happens we’re in trouble.”

“No one will believe her, and it’s—Jack, what are you doing? Get down from there. Those counters are not meant to be climbed on. Oh, for the love of … Fine, but I’m not pulling out any throats. These people are innocent.”

“Well, duh!” I say, as I gracefully flop over the counter and land on my back, my foot sending a rollaway chair rolling away. “Ouh … We send them to paradise.”

I get up and run back through the corridor. No one is in sight. I start tossing doors open. The first room has a rack on the far wall mounted to the ceiling. Hanging from it on hooks are prosthetic limbs. No one is here.

“Yikes,” says Xeno. “That’s kind of creepy.”

I run to the next door, it’s a lunch break room. Again, no one inside. There are only two rooms left.

I toss open the next door and two people are inside. The young receptionist and a bearded man whom I presume to be the doctor. He’s sitting behind his desk dressed in business casual, hands still on his keyboard.

The girl shrieks and drops her phone.

“Hello, hello?” says the voice on the speaker phone. “Are you still there? Please clarify the nature of the offense.”

“That’s the cops alright,” says Xeno.

I take a step forward, my hands up showing I’m unarmed. “Look, I don’t want to—”

The girl screams again, and the old doctor pulls out a small gun from inside a drawer.

“Stay right there,” says the man in a deep, gruff voice.

“Oh boy,” I say. “Look, what you saw back there, wait, no just leave the phone on the … okay. Okay. Or just pick it up. That’s fine.”

The girl puts the phone to her ear and mumbles something frantic I can’t understand.

“I feel like this is all a big misunderstanding,” I say. “Let’s just calm down and talk—wait, Xeno? Xeno, what are you doing? No, no, go back inside. I said no harming the people. Xeno!”

Slowly, Xeno’s appendage slithers out and coils in the air. I try to pull him back inside, but I have no control over that.

The old man’s eyes go wide, and he’s visibly trembling, his finger on the trigger.

The girl just drops the phone again and faints.

I close my eyes, turn my head, and wince.

There’s a loud popping noise, I feel a recoil, and the next moment Xeno snaps back into my hand.

“Hurry, send them and let’s get out of here!” comes Xeno’s voice.

I look at the doctor, blinking a few times. He’s standing now, staring at the melting gun on his desk.

My jaw drops. “You goo-slapped his pocket pistol!” I say.

“Oh, that sounds so gross coming from you—hurry Jack!”

I waste no more time. I run over, reach across the desk, grab the doctor’s hand, and send him before he has time to say anything or pull away. The receptionist sprawled out on the floor goes next.

I pick up the phone and hang up. Then I crush it for good measure.

On the way out, I check the last room. No more people. Good. However, I do find an incredibly cool looking pair of gloves.