Bringer of Fire Read Free

what do I do? I mean, should I---”
    “No. The police said that they will meet with anyone who’s associated in any way with the building. The only thing that I can suggest is that you just stay near your phone for now.”
    That didn’t sound particularly hopeful.
    “Okay, thanks, Maria. Listen, are you going to be okay for now?”
    “Yeah. Thanks, Logan. I need to do this.”
    “Take care of yourself, okay?”
    “Sure, I’ll try. You too.”
    After I hung up the phone, I dialed the tag agency to call in sick for the day. Then I turned on the news.
    The reporters were all speculating on a host of possible causes for the office building disaster, including an act of terrorism.
    But if it’s terrorism, who would want to blow up an ordinary office building?

Chapter 2
     
    I spent the remainder of the day and that evening half resting at home and half wondering if I was going insane. I called my sister to touch base, but Mom still called to check on me just before dinnertime. Travis called again, as well.
    I almost told Travis about my strange side effects—or hallucinations?—but thought better of it for the time being. He’d probably think that I was crazy.
    But then, maybe I was.
    Perhaps that was why I didn’t dare try to tell either Lexi or my mother; I was hesitant over how they might react, too.
    I ate more soup and crackers and drank more 7Up.
    Damn, I’d almost forgotten how good cola tasted, and despite my health food mantra, I vowed that it would maintain its presence in my future diet.
    Maybe it was merely the sugar, but my mood had quickly improved and my mind felt somewhat more settled. If only my stomach would return to normal as quickly.
    The next day, I actually made it into work. It felt almost strange to be there, but at least it brought me back into more of a normal routine. Each of my coworkers asked how I was feeling and my boss, Larry Anderson, was also really supportive, but everyone acted somewhat tentative toward me, except for Travis.
    “Hey, Dracula, shouldn’t you be back at home in your crypt?” he teased.
    I sneered. “Thanks, buddy, you’re all heart.”
    “Hey, I’m just sayin’ you look a little pale, that’s all.”
    “Yeah, well, stomach flu tends to do that to a person.”
    His facial expression turned serious.
    “Listen, Logan, we were all glued to the TV in the break room yesterday. I’m still pretty shocked about the explosion. You okay?”
    I sighed.
    Good question. Am I okay?
    “As okay as anybody gets under the circumstances, I suppose.”
    “I keep thinking about what might have happened if you’d gone to your treatment yesterday,” he said.
    I looked at him and noted the serious expression on his face.
    “Yeah, me too.”
    Within a couple of hours, I’d fallen into a pleasant workday rhythm and life began to feel a little more like normal. For a while, it felt good to distract myself with the mundane world of driver’s licenses and vehicle registrations. But eventually, I thought back to my conversation with Maria, and I felt morose all over again.
    Honestly, I felt like a bit of a wreck emotionally.
    Still, I made it through the day without losing either my mind or my lunch. By the time I made it home that evening, I felt physically exhausted. I made a light supper of more soup and crackers with a mug of hot tea, which made me chuckle.
    I would receive such a world of shit from my army buddies if they saw me sitting here savoring a mug of hot tea.
    But then a lot had changed since those days.
    I’d given a lot of thought to what I had experienced with the soap in the shower and later with the telephone, and arrived at a decision: In the absence of normal logic, explore the outlandish.
    After I finished eating, I cleared the small dining room table of everything except the salt and pepper shakers, a pencil, and an ink pen. I placed everything in the center of the table so the items weren’t touching one another.
    Then I sat down in one of the chairs