image [https://i.imgur.com/x9Eocbm.png]

MAY

Things had gotten a bit quieter at the station now. We were back to the routine calls we were more familiar with, but instead of putting me at ease, it made me even more suspicious.

In the dead of the night, I poured over the reports about our latest calls, trying to find links or detect patterns, but it felt like a skill beyond my pay grade. I didn’t dare try and rope anyone at the station into researching with me - even Chief Cormorant had made a passing comment that since the chemical fire, I seemed ‘a little high strung.’

Sure, everyone always had a good time debating it over dinner, but if I had a genuine belief that there was something else going on, I might as well skip the evaluation and just put the straight jacket on. Better to keep it to myself, at least for now.

It also struck me as the kind of thing that was inappropriate to discuss with Mercy or Raja. Mercy would just tell me to talk to the Chief, and Raja… well, Raja would probably only have a shrug to offer.

And while I debated bringing it up with Cliff, it seemed too soon for police involvement if there wasn’t any evidence. Anonymous tips only work if there’s something to tip off, and as far as I knew, paranoid suspicions didn’t really count.

In the middle of reading one of the reports, it clicked, and once it did, it seemed so obvious.

That next morning on the drive to the station, I dialed in the number for that fox-like reporter and waited for an answer. I didn’t expect her to pick up, but it was worth a shot. If all else failed, I’d just go it alone.

One ring, two, three… My eyes darted from the road to my phone’s screen every few seconds as if I was expecting to see her face when she picked up. While waiting, I took a sip from a bottle of orange juice I picked up from the gas station a few miles back. Finally, the ringing stopped.

“Dahlia Song speaking.” Her voice came through so clearly, it sounded like a voicemail recording.

“Hey, uh, it’s Manny,” I stammered out. “You know, that firefighter from station—”

“Oh!” She gasped. “Oh, wow. I can’t believe it! I didn’t think you’d actually call… I was so sure you were just placating me when you gave me your number.”

“Why would I do that?” I flattened my mouth, a little insulted.

Dahlia snorted. “You wouldn’t believe how many people act nice at first just to ice me out later on. I don’t take anyone by their word anymore— I go by their actions exclusively.”

“Um… alright then,” I replied, drumming my fingers on the side of the juice bottle. “Well, I don’t know how you’ve categorized me yet, but I wanted to let you know I hadn’t forgotten about you.”

“How sweet.” She sounded almost sarcastic. “Have you found out anything yet?”

“I’m in the process of compiling my findings now.” The red light I stopped at seemed to stretch on for ages. “What do you want from me? Like, what sort of stuff are you looking for?”

“Anything you have!” Her smile was evident even over the phone. “Or I should say, anything you can get away with. I wouldn’t want you to risk your job for me.”

Dahlia’s enthusiasm was a little unnerving, but for now, I tolerated it. As I listened, I finished the remainder of my orange juice, unaware of how much I’d gone through until the bottle joined two others on the floor of the passenger’s side.

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.” The firehouse was getting closer on the horizon, so I kept things brief. “Just don’t put my name on anything, okay?”

“Not looking to get famous?” Dahlia said coyly.

“Oh, trust me, last thing I need in my life is more attention…” I turned into the parking lot and saw Garrett’s neon blue Audi first thing, marking him as the first of our crew to have arrived. It was good to see that he was still following my advice and kept himself on time.

At this, she laughed, which had a melodic quality. Was there anything she hadn’t practiced to seem as presentable as possible?

“Listen, I’m actually right about to head to work, so I gotta go.” I twisted my head around to back evenly into the parking space. “But I just wanted to call and touch base. Just to let you know I’m keeping my eye out.”

Dahlia hummed, pleased. “I really appreciate it, Manny. Thanks.”

“Any time, Ms. Song.” I tapped the ‘End Call’ button, suddenly awash with an unexpected sense of duty.

･ ･ ･

One call became two, then three. To keep it as private as possible, I only called Dahlia when I was driving to or from work; at first, I thought she’d be annoyed by the weird hours I called her at, but I learned quickly that her hours were even weirder than mine, so it all balanced out.

After our latest phone call, she’d been insistent that we meet in person over coffee at some point. Though I was hesitant, I agreed, only on the condition that it wasn’t some place bustling and hectic like a Starbucks. The coffee shop she had chosen was a reasonably sized local joint that, at its busiest, had maybe seven patrons in at a time, which made it perfect.

Dahlia had arrived before I had, claiming a table nestled in a corner. She wore a patterned shirt with a striking V-neck, wide-legged pants and shoes that I thought were sandals, but then seemed too fancy to be sandals. She was so well-dressed I felt naked in comparison, wearing only the standard T-shirt, jeans and boots I wore everywhere I went.

Upon seeing me, Dahlia motioned for me to join her. Since my stomach was growling like a tiger in a cage, I made her wait until I’d gotten my order from the counter.

On the table, she had her own lunch already unwrapped, a cheesy croissant with a massive iced coffee. I took a seat across from her and set my sandwich down beside my water bottle.

“Ain’t you dressed up all nice?” I smiled, gesturing to her outfit. “If I knew there’d be a dress code, I’d have worn the jeans I got without holes in them.”

Dahlia made a little ‘pfft’ noise, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’m not so image conscious as to make demands of your closet. I’ve much more important things to consider.”

“If you insist.” Before unwrapping my sandwich, I handed off the folder I’d brought with my findings.

Immediately, Dahlia perked up. She could hardly contain her excitement when she took the folder into her hands, opening it as I started to eat. “Look at all of this!” She beamed. “And is this stuff you’re allowed to show me?”

“Yeah. It’s mostly just summaries of reports. I took out anything that seemed incriminating.” With a chunk of sandwich in my mouth, I paused. “Incriminating as in, would get me fired.”

“I’m impressed.” The longer she sorted through the papers, the more genuinely grateful she appeared. “You really came through for me on this.”

“Um… yeah?” I laughed, a little embarrassed. “I know nobody else at the station was listening, but I was. If it makes you feel any better, they won’t listen to me, either.”

“Really?” Dahlia gnawed off a corner of her croissant. It was obvious now that she had dropped all pretenses of being a blank-faced professional, which I found refreshing.

“To be fair, I don’t really talk about what I’m thinking at work,” I replied. “I’ve been feeling pretty out of the loop with most of them lately, and I don’t really want to give them the idea that I’m crazy. ‘Cause it does sound crazy, when taken out of context.”

“Their loss.” Dahlia sipped her coffee. “They’re gonna feel so stupid when we break this story, they’ll be kicking themselves.”

“Why are you so invested in this story, anyway?” I stopped to take a bite from my sandwich but was grossed out by the lettuce tucked between the meat. After I pulled it out, I looked back at her. “Or this whole reporter bullshit in general?”

“Well, for starters, I’m nosy and I like knowing things, but to give you a serious answer: everything else I’ve covered on my podcast has gotten no attention whatsoever.” She sighed in disappointment. “I work my ass off trying to get it off the ground, and guess who gets more listeners than I do? People sitting around playing tabletop games or obsessing over criminals who’ve already been caught. Like people only care once all the hard work is done.”

I wiped my mouth on my wrist. “If you care so much, why haven’t you applied to write for websites or newspapers? Seems like the kind of stuff you’d knock out of the park.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Print media is dead, and at this point most news sites are just propaganda machines.” Dahlia wrinkled her nose, unable to hide her contempt. “And when they aren’t all about propaganda, all you do is write fluff pieces and advertisements instead of covering things that actually matter. What a waste of time!”

While I listened, I tried to eat more of my sandwich, but nearly bit into my finger instead, totally unaware that I’d already eaten the entire thing. My appetite had been so neutralized for so long, I didn’t think I could finish it, but I’d eaten through it so quickly that I was already thinking about grabbing another.

“You remember that chemical fire a few months ago at Kingslake? Huge story right there.” Dahlia dabbed the corners of her mouth, lipstick smudging the napkin. “Dozens of people died, and even more were injured. They still don’t know what they were studying there, or what kind of chemicals were even involved. Guess how long it stayed in the news cycle for? Two days. Two!”

I crushed the sandwich wrapping up into a ball so I could make space to lean on the table. “I was actually there for it.”

“Are you serious?” She lit up like she’d gotten a puppy for Christmas. “Oh my God, that’s insane! You need to tell me more!”

This kind of behavior was exactly why I didn’t speak to people in the news industry. That glimmer in their eye when you go from a person to a reference point in their story just left a sour taste in my mouth. Defensively, I narrowed my eyes - I wasn’t interested in becoming one of the hit pieces on her road to fame.

“It’s not really something I want to talk about,” I stated flatly. “All you need to know is that I was there. That’s all.”

Dahlia nodded, looking at me with unexpected tenderness. “Still, you get my point. Big stuff happens, people pay attention to it for a second, then it’s business as usual. Then the next thing you know, when you check back on an article to reference it, there’s edits they don’t even tell you about.”

“Can we move on?” I shook my head in exasperation. “Spending my time on this… theory… already makes me feel like a crackpot. You’re not helping.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. Enough about me. Work time.” She swept her dark hair back and plopped it on top of her head, flyaway hairs forming a messy crown around her. She took another hefty bite of her croissant and clapped her hands together emphatically. While she scanned over what I brought her, I tried my best to beat back the memories of the chemical fire.

“So, let’s see. Warehouses, trailers, empty rentals…” Dahlia leafed through my notes with one hand and drank coffee with the other. “You know, it’s really interesting that they seem to be happening in uninhabited places.”

“Except that office fire, yeah,” I replied. “They’re mostly happening in places where nobody was really around to start something, but that means there also wasn’t anyone around to see someone start something.”

Dahlia made a noise in agreement, flipping through another page in my notebook. She wrote down notes of her own in a sleek black planner, and I could tell from across the table that she wrote in big, loopy shorthand. With her notes so illegible to most other people, I felt oddly more at ease.

Once her drink was empty and only crumbs were left on the wrapper she used as a plate, Dahlia closed her planner. “Hey, I’m gonna go grab another coffee really quick. I’ll be right back.”

When she stood up, I reached across and closed the folder for her, a bit paranoid of what people might think if they stopped to look for too long. Moving as quickly as you’d expect someone on their third coffee to be, Dahlia tossed her empty cup into a trash can as she joined the line that had begun to form for the lunch rush.

As she waited by the counter, I turned my focus to my arm. That little lump still hadn’t gone away. My tattoos barred anyone else from paying it much mind, but just underneath the surface, a deep seated itch made it impossible for me to ignore, even under the cover of a bandage.

With my luck, it could just be a new problem brought on by the chemical fire. Even though I’d cleared the tests just fine at my last doctor’s appointment, my PCP had mentioned the potential of seeing long term side effects - perhaps developing disfiguring hives was just one of them. Guess it was a good thing I never had dreams of being in beauty pageants.

To distract myself, I let my eyes roam around the other people in the coffee shop. There wasn’t much of a crowd since it was both the middle of the week and the end of the day: over in the corner was a guy writing on a laptop, and by the door was an elderly woman feeding cookies to a fat-cheeked baby. My eyes eventually landed on Dahlia, standing like a model even when she was waiting in line - and then to the chatty guy next to her.

I watched the man carefully; judging by body language, he was interested in more than just discussing the baked goods behind the glass display. In contrast, Dahlia kept to herself, barely giving him the time of day as they navigated the line. Even when Dahlia offered for him to take her place in line, he persisted.

It was easy to see why she wasn’t pushier - he towered over her even in her heeled sandals, and he was at least twice as wide as she was. The longer I watched them, the more he struck me as the kind of guy who considered ‘no’ less the end of a conversation and more so the beginning of a negotiation.

Regardless of how obvious Dahlia’s disinterest was, the man badgered her like a dog begging for scraps. Filled with a deepening anger at the sight of him, I left the table and came over to Dahlia, which was exactly when I noticed that the man was big enough to tower over me as well.

“Hey,” I said casually as I approached her. “This guy giving you trouble?”

Dahlia, who wore her usual expression of perfect poise, smiled uncomfortably. “Oh, everything’s fine, Manny— he’s just making conversation.”

I turned my head to give the guy a disgusted once-over. We locked eyes, and it was clear that my intervention struck a nerve, his face reddening from embarrassment. Strangely enough, I found myself enjoying it. “You’re dismissed,” I said mockingly. “Move along, now.”

“Excuse me?” The man growled. “You think you can just go up to people and start talking shit? What the fuck is your problem?”

“You are.” My smile straightened into a look of seriousness. “Now, like I said, move along. She’s clearly not interested.”

He squared up his shoulders. “I don’t think I like your tone, asshole.”

Out of instinct, I put myself between the man and Dahlia, who was using this as an opportunity to inch closer to the counter. She tugged at my sleeve for me to move back with her, but I held my ground.

“Manny, just let it go,” Dahlia whispered. She didn’t seem afraid - really, she was more annoyed at being inconvenienced. “This guy isn’t worth it.”

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye before looking back at the man. Common sense dictated that I call it here before things got out of hand, but the longer I looked at him, the more I honestly wanted to get into a fight; the sight of him stirred a rumbling in my bones that made my fingers tingle. Even my mind felt clouded, like a pot on the brink of boiling over. When I smiled at him, there wasn’t a drop of sincerity in it.

“Look, I’m a nice guy, so I’m gonna give you five seconds to fuck off,” I said. “And if you don’t, I’m going to smash your fucking teeth in.”

“Oh yeah?” He moved closer to me, eyes narrowing. “I think you’re all bark and no bite, little man.”

From behind the counter, the baristas continued to dash around and prepare other orders, though they were keeping a close eye on the both of us. Even when the man’s nostrils flared like a bull, I wasn’t scared. If anything, I didn’t think he was mad enough. I wanted him even madder.

“You want me to prove it?” I dared. “Okay. Five, four, three—”

Before I could finish counting, the man grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and jerked me forward, teeth clenched tightly. It had crossed my mind that given the size of his fists, he could easily break my nose in one swing, but I just couldn’t make myself care. The adrenaline was pumping too quickly through my body, emboldening me in ways it shouldn’t have; instead of backing down, I simply stared back at him, cold and unfazed.

The second he’d laid hands on me, one of the nervous baristas summoned a manager from the back, whose straight-laced and serious demeanor was betrayed by her sloppy ponytail and giant heart-shaped earrings. The second she figured out what was going on, her brows flattened across her forehead in anger.

“What the fuck is going on out here?” She shouted above the commotion. “If you psycho motherfuckers want to fight, I’m calling the Goddamn cops! This is a coffee shop, not a fucking night club! Knock it off!”

With all of the eyes on the coffee shop on us, everything stood at a standstill. Realizing that the fight was over before it ever even began, the man threw me back and shot a glob of snot at my boots before skulking out shamefully. Though I wanted to follow him and give him what he deserved, the manager’s venomous glare kept me frozen until she returned to whatever business she’d been torn away from.

Now that the excitement had died down, the barista was quick to process Dahlia’s order, and we returned to the table with her drink in tow.

“That was needlessly bold of you,” Dahlia said dryly. “Are you always such a knight in shining armor, or am I just special?”

I wanted to say something clever in reply, but I couldn’t. The buzzing in my head was starting to give me a migraine, and my arm ached like a sore tooth beneath the bandage. No matter how hard I pressed my temple, it throbbed, and Dahlia seemed to grow more concerned the longer she looked at me.

“Hey, are you alright?” She asked.

“I’m okay.” I took my hand away from my forehead, even though all I wanted to do was pull my brain out of my head and squeeze it until it stopped buzzing. “Just got a headache coming on.”

“It might be in your best interest not to raise your blood pressure more than necessary,” Dahlia said. Sensing that her humor was misplaced, her expression turned sympathetic. “I have some aspirin in my purse, if you want some.”

To sell the lie, I accepted it, and she was quick to slip me a couple of pills. Cupping them in my hand, I tossed them back into my mouth, nose wrinkling as I washed them down with room temperature water.

“For the record, don’t feel like you need to risk getting your face realigned by random guys on my account,” Dahlia remarked, sipping on her freshly made coffee. “While I appreciate the gesture, sometimes it’s better not to make a scene.”

“Yeah, I get that,” I laughed weakly, still feeling the full force of the fluttering against my skull. “I just— I have a low tolerance for that kind of stuff, you know? Fuckin’— those assholes that walk around like they own the place and everyone in it. Shit makes me sick.”

Dahlia smiled as if she were flattered. “Well, aren’t you chivalrous?”

Unsure of whether she was being sarcastic or genuine, I said nothing, allowing her to take full control of the conversation for the rest of the conversation. She didn’t seem to mind, and it was only after I hadn’t spoken a word for ten minutes straight where I realized that her podcast likely made her very experienced with essentially talking to herself nonstop.

Once we’d concluded our meeting, I escorted Dahlia out to her car as a show of goodwill. The pavement in the parking area was uneven, so she wobbled a little when she stepped over parts of it in her heels.

Before she could open the door to her car, Dahlia nearly fell, but I caught her and held her steady. In any other circumstance, I would’ve felt a thrill of excitement when she touched my arm… except that the one place her hand landed was on top of the strange little lump, still teetering on the borderline between itchiness and pain. Rather than let out a pitiful yelp, I simply swallowed it down.

Now seated safely in her car, Dahlia rolled down the window and flashed her sparkling teeth at me. “Everything else aside, you were super helpful today, Manny. Keep me posted on anything else you see, okay?”

I nodded. “Will do, Ms. Song. And, um, sorry about making a scene earlier.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she replied. “Personally, I’ve always liked a man with a backbone.”

With that, Dahlia winked, revving up her engine and backing out of the narrow little parking lot. Instead of hopping into my truck and taking off, I stood there watching as her little blue Mazda disappeared over the horizon.

Once she was gone, the buzzing in my head finally subsided.