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Title: The Epic of Glenda Mesh
Author: Christopher Fryer
Genre: Fiction
Chapter 1
About a month earlier in September, when summer was still shedding its sunburnt skin, a police cruiser was dispatched to the Sargon Family Foster Center to assist with a traumatic incident. It was midnight. A wispy mist hung low to the ground like the fuzz of a peach, fine and soft. The sea rested peacefully beneath a moonless starry sky. The whole city seemed to be asleep, totally unaware that life in Babylon would be changed forever by a red-headed girl hiding in a tree.
Officer Shamash and his partner, Officer Mari, pulled into the Foster Center visitor parking lot and Shamash killed the engine. Shamash was young and new to the force, had the pep and energy of a puppy, with the look of a surfer wearing a police officer costume. Mari was older, seasoned, and entering the third trimester for baby number three, with the look of an exhausted mother who could still tackle a suspect if need be.
“Sad this is the best Babylon can do for its foster kids,” said Shamash, taking one last sip of black coffee as he stared up at the gloomy structure.
Officer Mari said, “Must be bad if they’re getting us involved.”
The officers got out of the cruiser and approached the entrance.
The Foster Center was designed and run like a low-security prison, with high fences around the yard and door locks and ankle bracelets for the troubled kids and burly, brutish staff members who forgot how to smile, forgot they were dealing with children. It was infamously dour.
Ms. Sargon, the director, came bounding down the cement porch steps to greet them. She was all flustered and sweaty and there were fresh scratch marks on her arms, some still bleeding.
“She ran off that way,” Ms. Sargon said, pointing west.
“Who did?” asked Officer Mari.
“Her name is Enkidu. She’s new. She refused medication, then fought off two of my attendants and got Tom’s keycard. I was in my office. All I heard was screaming. Peggy nearly had her eye scratched out, and when I got there, Enkidu was swinging a chair at the staff in the entryway. She’s wild. Quite wild. I got close enough to grab the chair but then...” She held out her arms. The scratches were deep, the plump flesh swollen, pink. “She’s been growing out her fingernails just for this, I think, sharpening them at night. Like claws. After she scratched me, she opened the door and she was gone.”
“What kind of medication?” asked Officer Shamash.
Ms. Sargon said, “Anxiety medication. It’s the only thing that calms her down.”
“Where’d she come from?”
“I’d say raised by wolves, but her forms say out east. She came in last week. Took apart every lock on her bedroom door; we replaced it five times already."
Shamash said, "You lock them in? Isn’t that kinda—"
Mari elbowed him in the side. “Is everyone else okay inside?” she asked. “Any serious injuries?”
“We’ll be fine.”
"Any idea where she went?" Shamash asked, rubbing his bruised ribs.
Ms. Sargon's lip quivered and her eyes watered, and biting her lip to hold back the tears, she shook her head. "I didn't know what to do. My daughter is out looking for her, too. She needs to know she's being taken care of. She's scared. She's from back east, never saw the ocean. She's fascinated by it. Maybe she went to the beach?"
"We will find her," said Mari, taking the director's hand and giving it a warm squeeze.
“She’s a wildflower in the wrong garden,” said Ms. Sargon solemnly.
“Do you have a photo of her? What does she look like?” Shamash asked.
"She's got hair like a sunrise," the director said. She took out her cellphone to show a photo of Enkidu. What stood out first was her fiery red plume of hair, like a star gone supernova. She had the intense beauty of an owl, both captivating and not to be underestimated, with a round face and big eyes, small nose, thin lips. Shamash guessed she was five-six, one-ten. The director sighed. "That’s Enkidu. Careful. She bites.”
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