Savage

Chapter Four - Sahara

Chapter Four

Sahara

Mother and I visit the neighbors twice more that week and another time the next. Were we not undercover, Mother would never allow such rude behavior. It's common courtesy not to visit a household more than once a week, let alone three times upon first arriving. Mother, however, writes off previous manners for the sake of my education and licensing. If I am to ever become a warden as she is, I will need these practice hours, even if they are completely nonsensical and a waste of everyone's time.

"Did you notice that surveillance camera?" I ask one day. We are walking side-by-side, back to our house. Nielle is at dance rehearsal, and I am fifty inquiries away from moving to Level Two. Most kids in my class will take the entire summer to get their hours in, but Mother is determined for me to achieve it in less than two months.

"What about it?" asks Mother. She pats at her plastered hair, as if the slight breeze could possibly unhinge the glue.

"It just seems peculiar that a poor woman can afford surveillance measures," I say. "Why would she need to video her front porch?"

"Mind your business, Sahara." Mother picks up her pace, already annoyed by my presence after twenty minutes.

I purse my lips together but say nothing more. The thing is, this whole undercover mission is nothing more than a glorified hoax. Two women in the area have called in reports of a Brute sighting, which is utterly impossible since a Brute has not been known to escape a ward in over a century. Mother and I are the department's way of 'stabilizing' the situation and reassuring the community that they are safe. In all reality, I'm just here to get my hours. Mother is here to get me out of the estate as quickly as possible, and my inquiries are doing nothing more than bothering women when they are trying to relax between work hours.

Still, I can't help but feel that same mystery and exhilaration that I felt upon first arriving to Weston. I know all of this is nothing more than practice for me, but I can't help but want it to be real. I've never done actual police work. Only hours of paperwork and online examinations of my abilities. The entire occupation sucks. A real mystery would make everything far more exciting, so if I want to pretend Ms. Mortera's surveillance camera is suspicious, I shall do just that. Except perhaps a bit more privately from now onward.

Paper work, faux documents, inquiry logs. That's how I spend the remainder of the afternoon. Mother cooks and cleans Nielle dances. Occasionally, I allow my imagination to wander toward my little sister. I envy her delicate movements and intricate routines. Oh to be a dancer rather than an investigator. Life would be much simpler.

"Sahara!" Mother's voice rises from her office.

I grab my current paperwork from the bed and carry it with me, as though to physically prove my dedication.

"Yes?" I ask, standing just before her door. I can see her through the glass, but I don't dare enter without her say. The office is her definition of a sanctuary.

"What is this?" she asks. It takes me a moment to realize that my file box is propped on her desk, and a slim pile of paperwork rests before her.

"Umm," I say, struggling for an answer.

"Come in," she finally says, and I do, if only slightly.

She's staring at my most recent log of inquiries, the one from this morning. Ms. Mortera's lies on top, and as I scan through the information, I automatically know to what she's referring.