YELLOWJACKET

APRIL

In my entire career, I had never seen so many fires in such a short amount of time.

It started off slow: first, a fire in a condemned trailer, then a blaze in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but that was nothing unusual given my line of work. On average, most of our calls involved traffic collisions, lift assists or even people stuck in malfunctioning elevators.

And yet just this week alone, we’d been getting fires larger than your typical kitchen accident nonstop - and they were getting progressively more intense. That morning, we were called to a fire in an office building, which was one of the bigger fires we’d dealt with since my accident. Unlike that one, nobody died or got seriously injured, and I was very thankful for this; we were used to seeing some pretty grisly things on calls, and I had to admit, the chemical fire had spooked me badly.

Of course, nobody had noticed my newfound caution except for Garrett. Since my return from the hospital, he’d been the only one checking in on me regularly, though I tried not to let my weakness show. It didn’t seem fair to burden him with my problems, especially when he was still struggling to accept his place in the food chain at the fire station.

But rather than talk to Garrett at length about the warehouse call, what ate up my attention instead was the impassioned debate the crew was having about this latest string of fires.

“It’s fucking nuts,” said Liam, slapping a playing card down on the kitchen table. “What, do we live in Chicago Fire now? We’re past the holidays and not even close to fireworks season, so what the hell?”

“Just wait til we get to July!” Rob reshuffled his cards. “If this keeps up, we won’t even have time to wipe our asses.”

DeShawn popped a bubble of gum before scanning the cards in his hand. “You think at this rate we’ll see our own 9/11 in Dallas?”

“First of all, nobody cares enough about Dallas to try that,” Heather interjected as she read absentmindedly through her training manual. “Second of all, we know by now that 9/11 was an inside job, and I doubt they’re stupid enough to try that twice now that we’re all aware of it.”

“Aw fuck, Heather, not this again.” Rob’s lip curled in disapproval. “You and your fucking conspiracy theories…”

Away from the rest of them, I’d been splitting my attention between their conversation and my phone call with Cleo. When evenings were slow, I would work on her homework over the phone with her, but it wasn’t always easy. She was learning some tough stuff in her classes, and I wasn’t much of a student when I was her age, so I often wondered if I was actually helping.

Once the conspiracy theory debate had started for the umpteenth time, I’d had enough of eavesdropping on them. I focused instead on Cleo as she struggled her way through math.

“You know that’s not the right answer. You should have that PEMDAS shit memorized by now,” I whispered. “Sorry. Don’t swear.”

Cleo giggled, but her amusement went away quickly. “Ugh… I’m tired of working on this, Tío. I’m never gonna get the hang of it!”

“No, no. You’re a smart girl. You just need the right teacher.” I peered over my shoulder every once in a while to make sure the guys weren’t listening in. “Your tía’s really good with numbers. If your mamá’s too busy, you should ask Jojo for help. I know she can have an attitude, but still.”

A mysterious silence fell between us. Cleo let out a little gulp. “Um… actually… I wanna talk to you about something.”

I strayed further down the hallway, keeping watch over my shoulder. “What’s going on, pecosita?”

A nervous hum. “I don’t know… it’s weird.”

“Trust me, my whole life is nonstop weirdness at this point.” I tried to be supportive, but her anxiety was spreading to me now. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Okay, well, this is gonna sound so crazy, but I think something’s going on with Tía and Luke,” she said in a harsh whisper.

“Luke?” It took me a minute to remember that Luke had graduated from ‘some guy Mercy is seeing’ to ‘Mercy’s boyfriend’, since I had yet to actually meet him. “Wait, what kind of something?”

“I dunno…” Cleo’s tone grew increasingly uneasy. “Something weird. I heard them talking on the phone together last night, but like, super quietly.”

My mouth flattened. “I thought you said they didn’t get along very well.”

“That’s what I thought at first!” She chirped. “But then why are they talking to each other behind Mamá’s back? It’s like they’re hiding something…”

That strange, itchy sensation began to spread throughout my arms. To dispel it, I rubbed at my hands and knuckles until the skin was raw. Then, it was gone as soon as it’d arrived, and my breathing steadied.

“Come on, that’s some telenovela stuff.” I waved my hand to relax the joints. “She was probably talking to some guy that just sounds like him. But if you want, I can talk to her for you— see what I can find out.”

“No… maybe? I dunno.” She didn’t seem convinced. “If she thinks I’m spying on her, she’ll get really mad at me.”

“Sounds like you shouldn’t worry too much about it, then.” I could only hope I sounded reassuring - Cleo was a worrier, just like Mercy. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

From behind me, I heard footsteps. I whipped around to see Garrett, blinking in surprise when he saw how quickly I turned.

“Whoa, sorry, are you busy?” Garrett pointed to my phone. “I just—”

I made a ‘one moment’ gesture at him before turning my attention back to Cleo. “Hey, I have to go. We’ll talk more about this later, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I replied. “Be good.”

Once the call was over, I turned to face Garrett, who had waited for me patiently. “Sorry about that. What’s up?”

Garrett motioned for me to follow him. “I’ll explain in a sec.”

As we walked through the station, he debriefed me quickly: apparently, he’d caught someone nosing around outside of the station. Unsure of what to do - but assuming she was a reporter - he summoned all of us to meet her.

When I walked into the apparatus bay, I saw that everyone had crowded around the reporter. I kept toward the back near Garrett and Heather to let Rob, DeShawn and Liam take the lead. I didn’t want to risk being quoted on something when I was already on edge.

“Why didn’t you fetch Cormorant?” I asked Garrett quietly.

In return, he simply shrugged. “I asked if we should, but Liam said he’d handle it.”

I rolled my eyes. Typical Liam, the Starscream of the firehouse. The second Chief Cormorant wasn’t present, he threw his weight around whenever possible. To get a better look at the reporter for myself, I squeezed past DeShawn and Liam to the front.

The reporter was fox-like in appearance, with high cheekbones and a sharp arch to her eyebrows. She was the shortest out of all of us, standing at no more than five foot four at best thanks to her razor-thin heels. She had a magnetic energy about her that commanded attention, and when her eyes flickered to mine, her red lips quirked into a smile. She seemed remarkably familiar, but where had I seen her before?

“What did you say your name was?” Heather tilted her head.

“Dahlia Song,” said the reporter, in a voice that sounded heavily practiced to be as free of an accent as possible.

Liam made no attempt to hide the way his eyes trailed up and down Dahlia’s figure. “Anyone ever call you Dolly?”

“I prefer Dahlia, thank you!” She answered cheerfully. “Professionalism is vital to my work, I find.”

“Haven’t I seen you on TV?” Rob scratched his mustache and joined Liam in looking at her from head to toe.

“You’re surely thinking of my sister, Dannica. We’re twins, you see,” Dahlia corrected. “She’s also a reporter, but I’m more of a freelance journalist.”

“Twins, huh?” Rob smirked devilishly. “Are either of you single, by any chance?”

“Wait, Rob— what about your wife?” said Garrett innocently. “Or are you looking for a fifth one already?”

DeShawn, Liam and Heather broke out into an uproar of laughter; in contrast, Rob soured immediately. He smacked Garrett upside the head as the crew continued ribbing him, which Dahlia quite clearly found both immature and off putting. Despite my reservations, I moved forward to address her.

“Ms. Song, what’s your reason for stopping by?” I asked. “We don’t usually allow for visitors after hours like this. Is this important?”

“So glad you asked!” She smiled a picture perfect grin that reminded me of Garrett. “I run a blog and podcast where I investigate local happenings that newspapers aren’t covering in enough depth. I’m hoping you guys might be able to help me out with my current project.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what can we help you with?”

As I spoke with Dahlia, I glanced back at the rest of the crew and felt it too important to leave them out. I made a gesture for them to settle down, and once they did, Dahlia prepared her pitch.

“I was wondering if any of you noticed anything strange about all these fires lately,” she said, clapping her hands together and motioning with them. “I’ve been going around to all of the fire stations in the area, and so far, nobody seems to know anything. But I have a feeling that—”

“Oh, jeez,” Liam scoffed. “Hate to burst your bubble, lady, but not all fires are because of some crazy arsonist, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Dahlia replied sharply. “Local papers have barely been reporting on them, and I’m curious to see if there’s more to the story, that’s all. There’s no need to be rude.”

As we all focused our attention on Dahlia, Chief Cormorant’s booming voice came through the doorway. When he found nobody inside, he came out to join us, and the sight of us dawdling around with Dahlia brought an angry redness to his forehead and cheeks.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Cormorant asked accusingly. “Who is this woman, and more importantly, why is she in our station?”

“Relax, Chief, she’s… some kind of journalist?” DeShawn said. “She’s just here about a possible story.”

Cormorant calmed down immediately, smoothing out his hair to appear more presentable. “What story are you hoping to cover, Miss…?”

“Dahlia Song,” Dahlia replied, her name coming out of her mouth like a recording. “I was just telling these guys that I think there might be a pattern to the fires. I don’t know anything yet, but I wanted to see if there was something you might’ve picked up on that could—”

“Unfortunately, if you’re hoping to be the first to break a story, you’re going to be out of luck,” Cormorant sighed. “If we have concerns, we bring them up to our arson investigators, and by the time they start looking into things, we can’t control who tells the story next.”

“I understand,” she nodded patiently, “but I would still appreciate—”

“She’s not even a real reporter, Chief!” Liam bellowed. “She’s just some wannabe! Don’t bother.”

Dahlia’s face, perfectly poised, grew increasingly annoyed. If she were a snake, her tail would have been rattling by now. When I looked at Garrett, he was silent, like he didn’t seem too sure whose side to take.

Now that we’d wasted so much time, Chief Cormorant shared Dahlia’s annoyance. He straightened the tie around his neck and cleared his throat before offering his hand to Dahlia.

“I wish we could be of more assistance to you, but regardless, thank you for stopping by. Good luck on your future endeavors, Ms. Song— though I do ask that you call ahead of time if there’s something you’d like to talk to us about, rather than loitering around the premises.” He shook her hand swiftly before turning back to the rest of us. “Now stop goofing around and get back to work!”

As the crew began to file back into the station with Chief Cormorant in the lead, I was the only one to hang behind. With nobody around to observe her, Dahlia’s well-managed reactions gave way to authentic frustration, cursing under her breath when she thought she was alone.

“Ms. Song?” I called out as I came back over to her.

Immediately, Dahlia’s eyes brightened and she corrected her posture. “Oh! Yes?”

“Okay, can you knock it off with that voice? It’s creepy.” I shuddered. “Look, I just wanted to say that… you definitely aren’t the only one that thinks these fires are kind of weird.”

“Thank God!” Dahlia’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled. “I’ve talked to several different stations in the area, and they’ve all blown me off so far. You’re probably the first firefighter I’ve talked to who’s given me the time of day.”

Unsurprising. It was hard not to get sick of seeing reporters when they wanted to poke around playing detective or film heavily edited feel-good stories for PR. Still, it did strike me as unusual enough to be worth the effort.

“I haven’t noticed anything that connected them to each other yet, but if I do…” I trailed off, my gaze roaming around the bay before settling back onto Dahlia. “What do you need from me?”

“Everything! Spare no detail!” She said energetically. “Here, let me give you my number. If you see anything, no matter how small, we’ll talk more.”

Without stopping for a second, Dahlia pulled her phone out of the little purse that hung from her shoulder. She’d left me no time to object, so I went ahead and got my phone out, too.

“What should I save your name under?” She asked, her thumb hovering over the plus button on her contacts page.

“Oh, jeez, I didn’t even introduce myself.” I smacked my forehead. “Manny Herrera.”

“Got it.” She tapped her phone definitively. “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Herrera. It really means a lot to me.”

Without an audience, Dahlia glowed with such sincerity that I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back at her. She tucked her phone back into her purse and took a second to readjust her clothes and hair.

“No problem. Good luck with your story,” I said. “Oh, and you don’t need to do that Mr. Herrera stuff. You can just call me Manny.”

Nodding affirmatively, she twisted the necklace around her neck so that its pendant lay flat against her collar bone. After a quick check of her reflection in her phone’s selfie camera, she prepared to leave. As she began to walk away, Dahlia stopped to glance at me from over her shoulder.

“And you can call me Dolly,” she said with a wink.

The way she looked at me was electrifying; she clearly knew how to use her looks to her advantage. To keep things professional, I made no further comment. She then made her exit, heels clacking loudly on the way out.

Now that I was alone, I turned to rejoin the rest of the crew inside the firehouse only to find Garrett standing in the doorway. “Yo, chico— you waiting for me?” I asked, smiling.

Strangely, he simply ducked back inside without a word.