Voflume 2: Chapter 81: Hello Disaster, My Old Friend (1/2)

Dan was not licensed for crisis response in Florida, so he was forced to sit on the sidelines and watch from the shore as officers and orange-vested volunteers scoured the water for survivors. The Key West PD had blockaded the entrance to the ocean highway, but there was no hiding the damage. The enormous concrete and steel roadway connecting Stock Island to Boca Chica was a blasted, blackened ruin. The majority of the debris had ended up in the Atlantic, but the edges of the highway had been melted into slag.

Dan wore his heavy boots as he walked along the coast, every step crunching through broken glass. He watched through binoculars as Coast Guard boats skirted slowly along the water, shouting on megaphones for survivors. The broken remains of cars bobbed in the water, here and there, most burnt beyond recognition. Luggage washed up on the shore, spilling their guts across sand and rock. Wet clothing and towels, shoes, broken heirlooms, all carried along the tide.

A small crowd gathered at a nearby pier, the group quietly watching the rescue efforts. Dan moved down to join them, taking note of other such gatherings all along the shoreline. The sound of gulls and boat engines filled the air, accompanied by the distant shouts of officers. The sea glittered in the afternoon sun and the waves lapped gently against the shore. It should have been a beautiful day.

Dan wandered over to the edge of the pier and leaned against the barrier. Nearby, a family of four watched a boat-mounted crane pull the mangled corpse of an SUV out of the water. The youngest child, a boy of maybe ten, had his phone up and recording. The parents held each other close, while the older daughter played fitfully with her hair.

”A terrible thing,” a man said from beside Dan.

Dan glanced at him. He was old, grey haired and wrinkled. His bright Hawaiian shirt flapped in the breeze, and his large, shiny aviators reflected the sun at their edges. He looked like a man who, up until a few minutes ago, had been thoroughly enjoying his vacation.

”Terrible,” Dan agreed solemnly. He turned back to the broken highway. ”Did you see it happen?”

”Was sittin' right over there,” the old man replied, pointing to a distant restaurant whose windows had been blown out. ”Had a pair o' headphones on, else I might've lost what's left of my hearing. Shockwave tore 'em right off my head. Damn lucky my glasses were in a pocket.”

Dan nodded. ”People are saying it was some kind of fire bomb?”

The old man snorted. ”I've seen bombs. That weren't no bomb. Almost a perfect sphere of fire, it was. Big, bright, and round. No mushroom shape, and hardly any heat past the blast zone. And I had a good feel for that too, being right here. That heat was nothing special. Hotter than usual, sure, but I ain't burnt like that there bridge.” He pointed at the melted edges of the highway. ”That tells me there was something else at work, if'n you know what I mean?”

Dan side-eyed him. ”You're thinking this was a villain attack?” That thought wasn't far from Dan's mind.

”What else could it be?” the old man asked with a shrug. ”Country's in an uproar. Perfect time for some crazy bastard to do some senseless violence. Who knows how those people think.”

”Right,” Dan offered without conviction. His phone buzzed in his pocket. ”Excuse me.”

Dan stepped away, checking the caller ID with a frown.

”Granny Terminator,” he muttered, reading the words on his screen. He answered the call, and pressed his phone to his ear. ”This is Daniel.”

”Newman,” Anastasia greeted emotionlessly, ”I've got a job for you.”

”Pretty sure I don't work for you,” Dan replied.

”You're staying in my home, eating my food, taking advantage of the safety and hospitality I offer,” she told him flatly. ”You owe me.”

”Take it up with your granddaughter,” Dan recommended, picking at a nail. He made sure to be as loud as possible, and was rewarded with the sound of grinding teeth.

”Do you think the situation is amusing?” Anastasia Summers growled at him. ”Is it possible for you to muster even the smallest fraction of discipline?”

”I think you're trying to cajole me into helping you, rather than ask like a normal human,” Dan replied. ”What is it you want, anyway?”

There was a brief pause, as Anastasia obviously considered threatening him once more. She must have decided that getting to the point took priority, as she said, ”You've obviously heard about the explosion?”

”Obviously,” Dan drawled. He glanced at the bridge. ”I'm looking at it right now.”

”I've secured a place for you in the investigation, acting as an outside consultant,” Anastasia told him.

Dan blinked. ”I am completely unqualified for that.”

”Believe me, I am more than aware,” Anastasia said. ”That's not the point. Whether you contribute to the investigation in a meaningful way or not, you'll be involved, and you'll report back what you learn.”

”You've got enough pull to plant me on the investigation, but not to learn the results?” Dan asked incredulously. ”You obviously have a detective in your pocket. Why not ask him?”

He could almost hear her scowl. ”I'm finding myself less trusting of others than usual. I will take no risks given the location. If this was meant to be a message to me, or some kind of attack gone wrong, I need to know immediately. Our interests align in this, Newman. I believe that you are motivated to be honest with me.”