By Wednesday, May 22nd, we had left Flagstaff and were rolling across Arizona toward Dust Bowl. We had, due in so small part to the fact that we had not stopped to sleep in Hays, Kansas the night that we had met the Black-Eyed Kid, made excellent time in our journey. The original road trip itinerary planned for us by Control had included “fudge factor” time that we had not needed, so that we might reach Dust Bowl and begin our investigation in advance of the Memorial Day week phenomenon there.

Along the way, Liz had shared some of the information, what little there was, about the 2022 Control team that had gone there. It turns out they had lost contact with Control and disappeared. I could sense the palpable unease that divulging created within our vehicle as it toodled its way down desert highways. I thought about all the subjects that had come up over the course of our group’s time together that my companions had just taken in stride as normal (at least their world’s version of normal): mages, shamans with Sight, Black-Eyed Kids, giants in Kandahar, pocket-sized dragons living in people’s pants, the existence of cults in the Canadian wilderness that sounded like they were from a Lovecraft story, etc. They had casually mentioned Skinwalker Ranch and the Superstition Mountains as being actually supernatural places. Everyone seemed a little set on edge knowing that we were going into something in which a previous team had completely disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again.

“According to the communications that Control received before losing contact with the UFO/UAP investigation team, the locals refer to the phenomenon as the Dirt. They describe its arrival each year as ‘when the Dirt blows in’. We’re about to get to work, people. We’ll stop on the outskirts of Phoenix for food and rest, but the next stop after that will be Dust Bowl. Rachelle, I think it’s time Carl and Spitfire made acquaintances with each other since Carl is a part of this team now. Each working member of this team needs to have a working relationship with each other. Let’s do that when we stop in Phoenix.”

“Sounds good,” Rachelle replied before dropping her voice as if she were speaking to someone else, someone right next to her, as if a child or a pet were in her lap. “Yes, I heard what Liz said. Yes, I realize that implies she considers you a member of this team.”

Rachelle’s voice resumed its normal volume for talking with the whole group. “Thanks a lot, Liz. As if her ego wasn’t bad enough already.”

Liz smiled. “You’re welcome.”

*******

LIz had said that we were just stopping in the outskirts of Phoenix. We veered off Interstate 17 at New River, headed for Highways 74 and 60. We found a Subway restaurant and got grub for everyone, including an extra sandwich that I was told was for Spitfire. We saved the subs until we located a roadside picnic area that didn’t have anyone around. By that time, it was Mitch’s turn to drive. He parked the Expedition and we went to a covered picnic table as far from the road and parking area as possible, with as little viewing opportunity for anyone to see us up close as possible.

Liz and Mont passed out the subs and laid out the extra one for Spitfire. It reminded me of kids playing with imaginary friends except that I knew Spitfire wasn’t imaginary and I’d be seeing her shortly. Rachelle sat down next to Spitfire’s sub and her own sandwich, across from me.

“Oooooooooh, that smells so good!” came a small, girly voice from Rachelle’s direction opposite me but Rachelle hadn’t spoken. I blinked and my eyes focused on one of her shirt pockets where a tiny orange creature’s head, neck, shoulders, and forearms emerged. The creature did indeed look like a tiny dragon. The particular orange color that she was was just a couple of shades darker than an orange crayon, pretty orange but not a bright or loud orange. Her ears were pointy. Between her ears there was a red crest that gave the impression of a hairdo.

What was it like looking at Spitfire for the first time? It wasn’t like watching a CGI character in a movie. She had real 3D depth to my eyes. She cast a shadow on the table. It also wasn’t like watching a Claymation figure move. Spitfire looked from a distance like she had smooth skin, but if she were to come close enough for one to touch her, one could see that what had seemed to be skin was, seen up close, actually super fine scales, so fine you might measure them in millimeters.

According to Liz, I had seen my first supernatural entity when we had encountered the Black-Eyed Kid in Kansas, but I wasn’t sure that I shouldn’t count Mr. X as a supernatural entity and I had seen him before that. But Black-Eyed Kids and Men in Black were humanoids. Spitfire, a p’ckit dragon, wasn’t even trying to look human. I had thought that the first truly nonhuman creature I would probably see as an Agent of Control would be something like a sasquatch or a Gray alien. I hadn’t expected this little dragon that looked like a character from a children’s book or a cartoon.

“Hello,” I said.

Spitfire jumped out of Rachelle’s pocket, spread her cute tiny little wings, and lighty landed on the picnic table next to her designated sandwich. She inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of the sandwich.

“Hey, Carl,” she said without even looking up at me.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” I said.

“Yeah, you seem pretty cool. I’ve been watching you for a few days. You’ve lasted this long. I think you’re gonna make it.”

“Make it?”

“Oh, yeah! A lot of people bail on Control before things even get this weird to them. That BEK would have made a lot of normies crap their pants. Remember the last time we were breaking in normie and she had a panic attack, guys?”

“Yes, they remember,” said Rachelle. “I don’t think Carl is going to have any panic attacks.”

“I don nieder”. Spitfire was trying to speak now around a mouthful of her sandwich. I think she meant to say “I don’t either.”

“Is she really gonna eat the whole thing?” I wondered out loud.

Spitfire answered for herself between bites. “I could, but I’m gonna take some of this in my house and save it for later.”

“Your house is inside Rachelle’s pants?”

“Inside her pockets actually. It’s what the science nerds call an extradimensional space.”

“But you could eat the whole thing?”

“Eathily.” Spitfire was trying to eat and talk at the same time again. “You sood see my Cousin Smerd eat thumtime.”