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GRIPP Gripp was finally able to get the goddamn tracker removed from his spine. The agency booked him in for the procedure early in the morning, just as the sun rose on the horizon. He was used to getting up early, but it was strange not doing it in the prison and, most of all, doing it without April. He was taken into a room that resembled the one where the device was installed. He lay on his stomach, had his neck numbed, and a small incision was made. He felt the doctor move his fingers around slightly, then took out something the size of a dime. “Can I see it?” Gripp said, facing the floor. After a moment of confusion, the doctor walked around the front of the table and showed Gripp the tracker. It was at the center of his bright blue gloves, a metallic object that slightly resemble
- Writer
