The sky had the look of molten mud. Slabs of brownish cloud were backlit by a wrathful sun who would no doubt claw its way out of the sludge by noon. Still, how a dull murky mess could be emanating such heat, Sao could only assume was a loathsome cosmic prank. On most days, one could hide in shade, the bits of dark between the dazzling bright, but without clear rays to warn one away, days like these had no discernable safe zone but the indoors.

Even from there, it made for grim viewing.

Sunk deep behind his desk, Rai looked like he couldn’t take much more bad news. “I’m suspended,” was his morning greeting.

Sao put down his things, turned on his computer. “Ridiculous. This bogus tipster is causing trouble when there shouldn’t be any. Surely Jasmine put a stop to the idea you attacked her?”

“Yeah. But she’s not in great standing with law enforcement either.”

“You’d think it would be a relief to find out she was alive.”

“The suicide plot was always going to have consequences,” Rai said. “She sustained a shallow cut to the neck and cheek. And lost the tip of her left ring and pinky fingers.”

He gave that final fact with a bit more enthusiasm than the rest. As if the pound (or ouches) of flesh were the appropriate consequence.

“She got sent to the hospital to be with the other two. For Cole’s assessment, before she goes back to her parents. He’s the de facto E34 expert now, as far as hospital staff go. Maya’s hands are looking better.”

He didn’t mention Orchid.

Sao kept his tone light. “At least we found Jasmine. We got confirmation on quite a few things, including an outline on this Fin character. The source of the drug, it seems.”

“I guess so.”

“We have a good number of resources that we obtained on our own. The phone cache, and the Neocam profiles and posts. We can always review the videos and such if we want.”

“Yeah. I don’t really want to look at that stuff right now.”

It was an unusually childish response. Sao felt a strange twitch, but it was more confusion than annoyance. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

“Thanks.” Rai glanced up at him as he left the room. “Sorry for scaring you yesterday.”

“You hardly need to apologize, considering you took the brunt of the attack. It’s been a hair-raising few days, I’ll say that. At least everyone we’ve found is still alive.”

In the kitchen he loaded up the scratched plastic tray, and returned with the coffee jug, sugar and milk. “You’re low on sugar,” he said.

He saw Rai nod, perhaps by accident as he was busy fiddling with his gloves. He was wearing an unfamiliar pair. It was black as usual but the fabric was tight and slightly glossy. Sao recalled Rai said one of his gloves had fallen off the overpass when he’d chased a man from Maya’s hotel. A second pair had been stabbed through in the evening with Jasmine. Sugar might not be the only thing he was running low on.

“How’s your hand?” Sao asked.

“Fine. All sealed up.” Rai pulled at some strap to loosen the wrists.

“That’s a relief. I’m a little jealous of how quickly your hands heal.” Sao recalled how in the past year he’d seen Rai’s fingers slammed in a door, his forearm caught in a blast of fire, and the palm stabbed clean through - the latter had happened more than once now.

Perhaps Rai was thinking the same because his teeth were gritting as he regarded the fit of his new gloves.

“I’ll pick up some sugar when I go get lunch later,” Sao said.

“If you want.”

—

Rai had an appointment at HQ late in the afternoon, regarding his two recent brushes with the law, in two different districts no less.

“I don’t see how they need any more explanation,” Sao said, indignant.

“A lot of things aren’t clear.”

The muddy clouds were still thick in the sky. The sun, fierce as it was, had remained coated by smog. Perhaps it was cooler but the air was so soupy with humidity, when he stood too close to even the closed window he began to sweat.

He asked Rai, “Should I go with you?”

Rai smothered the question with a bleary stare.

Sao saw him out, and asked him to message how it went. He closed the door quickly and went to stand in the crossroads of air conditioning and dehumidifier. In truth, Sao hadn’t really wanted to accompany him.

What Sao wanted was to zip back home to have an early dinner and lie down. Fall asleep in front of his shiny widescreen television with some tea or one of those pre-prepared deli cheese trays he’d become fond of. But instead, he left the office near the usual closing time, and went to the Rock Pool.

—

The golf course was not in use, the lights lowered to a purple twilight over the long, thin vista of fake grass and shrubbery. Unfortunately the cool lighting clashed with the rough red-painted sunset on the walls, giving it a murky color and texture that mimicked the real, ugly summer sky a bit too well.

Sao passed into the dining room with its checkerboard tables, and took a seat at the bar. Not too many people had come for the dinner service. Good.

He ordered a lime soda. “And tell Freenet I want to talk to him.”

The bartender served him his drink before vanishing into the door behind the bar, smooth as a snake. A few minutes later, a familiar face emerged. With him came the smell of smoke and the flash of teeth.

Sao punched the lime to the bottom of his cup with the stirrer. “I’ve got to ask, now that we have time. Who is ‘Cas’ supposed to be?”

“Can’t a guy try a different name out? Not everyone lucks out with their first like you.”

“Shall I call you Cas, then?”

“We’re old pals. ‘Free’ is fine.” Free ran his finger along the shelves behind the bar. “Don’t tell me that’s all you’re having.”

“It is.”

Free helped himself to a glass of whiskey. “I tried making this stuff with some buddies, once. Had some people willing to supply the corn, and we got this huge disused warehouse for distilling. We made these really nice aging barrels from scratch too, classy as hell, it all looked so good once set up… Although we didn’t ever go back to check on them. I don’t know how it turned out.”

“You were always one to launch headfirst into new things.” Sao sipped his soda. “How would you prepare a wire noose, Free? To stage a decapitation, the old joke goes.”

“Piano wire, the classic. It’s strong and already pretty sharp. Tie and solder - a typical hangman’s knot is going to slip too much, obviously, but make sure the loop is loose through the soldered knot so it can cinch shut. Once it’s ready, sand it a little, to get the cut in. Make sure the drop’s high enough or the body’s heavy enough to get the required force needed for a clean-ish cut - secure and drop.” He smiled. He could go on, Sao realized, but didn’t. “In theory. Mind if I smoke?”

“The restaurant’s smoke-free.”

“Right.” Free lit up anyway.

“Why are you doing this to the girls? And why frame Rai?”

“It would be difficult to make anyone believe you attacked them, wouldn’t it?”

“You’ve impersonated me before. It was a pretty good attempt, too.” Sao shook that nightmare out of his mind; this was only a diversion. Take Free’s bait and they’d be running in circles all night. “The girls. Why are you doing it?”

“Because you lead me right to them. You and your boss aren’t exactly hard to tail. You two love standing around forever, shooting the breeze, just waiting for me to catch up.” Free took a drag, took a sip; draped a lazy gaze over his unimpressive interrogator. Sao had never seen anyone look more at ease. “Take it as a compliment,” Free said slowly, “You’re good at finding kids and making them trust you.”

“Rai’s the one they want to see.”

“Humble as ever.”

Something about that was even more aggravating than the goading, than a direct insult would have been. Sao lowered his voice. “You must have at least some inkling of their suicide pact. You’ve infiltrated it. You took out Aquila and replaced her. I just don’t understand why you’re interfering. You aren’t even trying to kill them.”

“Obviously not. I don’t kill people.”

Sao snorted into his soda.

“Oh? Tell me - when did you ever see me take a life?”

Sao didn’t want to, but his mind drew back automatically. And in its deepest recess, he knew that Free had never killed anyone that he knew of. For all the blood and terror, the knives and the pieces they hacked away, the viscera on the floor and the gasps and screams - nobody had, officially, died. Hearts didn’t stop. Lungs never settled. And every single one had gotten up the next morning and left intact. Some, better than they’d come in. Free hadn’t looked it, but he was careful.

Unless they counted the jars, but that had always been up for debate.

“I’m not out to kill anyone. But as I told you last time,” Free muttered, pleasantly. “I’m not going to dispute the family.”

“What do they want?”

“What - who - does anyone want out of this?”

“The girls want awareness. The military wants to cover up their mistake. The hospital wants to fix the victims. Of course, it’s all focused on…” Sao steadied himself. “So you’re trying to lure out the distributor.”

Free smiled.

“You lied about Aquila, then. You’d never met her. All that talk of suicide staging…”

“Whoa. You slander me if it makes you feel better, but give the woman her due. Her feats really are praised in the right circles.” Free clicked his tongue and shook his head, in mock shame. “She should have been the natural starting point for a look into this zombie project. I put her in the booking log hoping you could find her, maybe unearth some interesting leads, maybe help her out. Told you, I don’t want anyone to die. She didn’t have what I was looking for, if you’re interested, or this would all be over.”

“And your storyteller? Aquila’s friend. You might have heard the story or caught glimpses of him, maybe even saw him at the Rock Pool gatherings, but since the girls’ project began, he’s evaded you. He even hid himself from Aquila. You put us on some vague trail so we could take you to him. Was the man at the motel…?”

“As I said, a credit to you and your boss. It would have taken me months; I’m not cut out to be a cop.” Free laughed, razor sharp. Sao felt as if he were being torn in half. And somehow, none of the other diners batted an eye.

“The girls were - are - bait. You’re hurting them to pull their leader out of hiding.”

“Ah, but is that right? A leader doesn’t react to the sacrifices of his followers. A friend might, though.”

When Sao just stared at him, Free’s glee subsided. He looked into his cup, the red and golden stain at the bottom. He pressed the cigarette back to his lips and began to send up circular plumes of smoke. Rings; one ring drifting through another, rippling on the air.

Rubbing his eyes, Sao gathered himself back up, and came up with something earnest. “I’m surprised you revealed to me that you were ever in the military. That was true, wasn’t it? Was that what you were doing all the time you were gone?”

“I have my own life.”

“You’re not with the army anymore.”

“Thought it was clear I’m with the family.”

“What does the family need with the drug?”

“What did the military need to make it for?”

Sao knew Free would whittle him down sooner than he could do the reverse. He had to just hack it with everything he had. “Look, Rai knows you’re a shifter. And honestly, he didn’t even have to say it. Could you be more obvious?”

Not a flinch, not a huff, not a hair out of place. “Aha. You talking about the handshake dodging? Am I stealing your gimmick?”

“Your face. Why did you let him see you looking like… that, twice?”

“Do you not like it? I do. Not everyone slots into your tastes. Besides, who are you to criticize how someone feels in their skin? Oh, don’t pout. Your boss is good at finding things out, but acting on them? He’s as ineffective as they come.” Lapping up the discomfort, Free leaned close. Smoke wafted from his nostrils like a dragon’s breath. “I’m even less afraid of what you have to offer.”

“If the family wanted Rai taken out, that would have happened a long time ago. People need him around.”

“As I said, I’m not looking to ‘take out’ anyone. You’re the one who has to stop sticking your neck out. If anything, you’ll be the reason he has to get scrubbed.”

Sao retreated almost instantly to his drink. He missed the straw and prodded himself in the chin, hard. His face was peeling. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been sweating. Free didn’t say anything, but he’d seen the whole blunder. “I don’t know why you’re like this,” Sao said, limply. “You’re strong and you have the military chops now. Why do you occupy yourself with these pointless chases?”

“And what? Work with the cops? No thanks.”

“Even my landlord will help at times. An obscenely wealthy man; he sees it as simply stretching his legs. Showing how far he can reach. How little he cares for one side or another.”

“God knows why you think that sounds appealing.” Free shook a chunk of ash on the counter. “We aren’t like him. I do care. I assume you care to some extent too, or you wouldn’t be here bugging me. We're just in the position to care about things differently. For instance: what business do I have in sucking up to Rai? You’re his assistant.”

Free took his whiskey glass and placed it behind the counter with a clink, and swept the line of cigarette ash down too.

“I learned a few things while I was away, Sao. Having real causes or real friends, even short-term, means you make sacrifices. You give up something in yourself to make a connection. Even the suicide quintuplets know this. Their cause might seem pointless and show-offy to you, but they sacrificed their lives. Or came close enough to it. I’m thinking the zombie godfather will follow the same anti-logic. Give himself up to stop their suffering.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Either way, I’m not overly invested in them or their cause. But I have a feeling it will take me to what I’m looking for, the thing I do care about, so I’m on board for now.” Free rolled his eyes. “You, though, are setting yourself up for a bad time. Your goal is some poncy little shit, I’ll bet, you want to ‘save’ them. You think you deserve a say in their plan, but they know someone like you will just go 'oh no, don't kill yourself, did you ever think of therapy' and breeze off like you've done them some great service. These girls are laying bare their brains, hearts and bodies and you want them to backtrack to the bare minimum of just being alive and meaningless. Like that’s life enough. You think they’re stupid for not listening to you. But of course you’re failing to connect with them.“

Nervous laughter from the dining room, and for an idiotic second Sao thought one of the diners was going to cut in. No luck.

“You've always been like that, from the moment I laid eyes on you all those years ago I knew it. You’re a damn hollow man. Hollow in the heart and the head, just painted over all pretty. You assume you deserve all the privacy, all the free passes, because you've had it so rough, rougher than everyone, but are at the same time owed an in to everyone else's inner sanctums. And people just gave that to you, because of the nice face, the sucking up. Pissed me off, but you're feeling the drawbacks now, must be lonely, eh? Even your silly little supervisor, you're taking his side here, but why? Some obligation to play bad cop with me? You’ve been fibbing to him as much as I have, but right to his nose, daily. You’re telling yourself you’re helping, you’re gaining his trust, as you shove him further and further off course. Now you’re jealous the suicide girls like him more than you, like he owes you that. Tell you what I see, two complacent little tightwads just tolerating each other.”

When he rolled his eyes, turned his face up for a moment so he looked to be searching for a far-off dream (rather than glowering down at prey), something surfaced briefly in Sao’s subconscious. A memory, not a nightmare - and not of Free. Someone completely different.

“I wonder how much you really care,” Free murmured.

“Care about what?”

“About what? About who? Exactly.” With that, Free snapped up Sao’s glass and downed the rest of his drink, gave the countertop a once-over with a rag and went back into whatever depths would have him behind the bar door.

As if his departure had pulled up a concealing curtain, all the suspicious eyes of the diners now seemed to be honing in on Sao’s back, his shoulders, his face, sagging and half melted, crusted, and melted again.

—

The sky was dark.

“It’s way after hours. Did something happen to your bus?”

Rai hit on the practical matters right away. Sao appreciated it, because that was what he had been expecting. “Not quite. May I come in? The ice is melting.”

He followed Rai into the office, turned on the lights, and laid his peace offering on the low coffee table. Two large plastic cups of sweet milk tea, capped with a layer of frothy white cheese foam; the latest trend. One had a shot of espresso but he wasn’t sure which. While he was telling Rai this, he hit his leg on the hard edge of the tabletop and croaked, then laughed in spite of himself. “This table was designed by a sadist.” He collapsed into the squeaking sofa, nursing his knee. “Anyway, what I came to say is – I visited Free to ask him-”

Rai approached carefully, as if the table would take him down next. He rustled through the bag. “Who’s Free?”

“Cas, I mean. Sorry. I think we can be sure he’s the attacker. He’s been following us, pushing us to find some unseen accomplice-distributor of Arilla’s ever since the start. The guest list had a fabricated line. Arilla never went to Rock Pool. From what we can see, none of the girls ever met her. Making Orchid’s exit extra-dramatic, brazenly attacking Maya and Jasmine – he’s trying to lure out the distributor.”

“Huh. I thought the face detail was a giveaway. Orchid and Jasmine described scarring. I saw it too, back when I met him. And Cas had that really weirdly applied gunk on his cheek.”

“Right.” Sao hadn’t been thinking of that. He hadn’t even been looking at it. Concealing makeup seemed like something so uncharacteristic - more specifically, unnecessary - for Free.

“He’s after Fin, then. But what will he do when he gets him?”

“He wants the drug. For an interested party.”

“The military?” Rai sniffed both cups briefly and obviously took the one that smelled more like coffee. “He told you all this?”

“He became very guarded when I tried to find out who he’s working under.” Sao tried to play back the conversation in his head. It came out in dribbles. He hoped he hadn’t said something he’d regret, beyond what he already remembered and regretted. “He likes to hear himself talk. And brag. And… you know, we go back some ways. I had some personal aspects I could leverage.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Rai popped his straw through the plastic seal of his drink.

“I wanted to.”

“Really?”

Sao laughed and went for his own drink. “No, not at all. As you noted the last time we all got together, he scares the hell out of me.”

“I really don’t get you, sometimes.”

Sao took his first sip and watched Rai wilt with this notion, or exhaustion. Propped up by a straw and a bit of caffeine and no more. Somehow, Sao had been expecting this too. “You’ve been down lately, and I want to help, if I can. Cas isn’t the only reason I’m here. How have you been faring?”

“Uh. I’m sorry for being grouchy. Been strung out by the weather and work. You know.”

“Doesn’t seem that simple. It started with Orchid’s video - or our meeting with her. If anything, you’re less grouchy than you should be. I’ve got the feeling something’s weighing on your mind, and for some reason, the girls all see it instantly and they seem to gravitate toward it. I don’t.”

“Kindred spirits. Or I’m feeding their hunger for weak-willed viewers. That damn awareness campaign. You can tell they like making people uncomfortable.”

“Jasmine certainly didn’t see you as weak yesterday. She was clinging to you like you were her lifeline. And you’ve handled them all well, I think you should be proud. And yet…”

“Cas put you in a mood, huh.”

“Cas hasn’t seen you going into a woeful trance every time you touch one of those suicide videos. Or looking forlorn while talking about how you’re not ‘good or bad enough' right before you save a girl’s life.”

Rai slurped loudly, treated him to a hard red glare. But a crack was forming. “The way you put it sounds so immature. But, yeah. I’ve been acting like a stupid teenager. Or letting my stupid teenage self mess everything up…”

“We’re chasing after zombies. You can live a little.”

“You must know how fucked that sounds.”

Despite his testy back-and-forth, Rai didn’t look overly upset. One corner of his mouth curled upward, almost a smile. They were over the wall, Sao thought. He tried to settle in the quicksand cushions of the couch.

“It’s silly. The whole case reminds me of my college ex,” Rai muttered. “She tried to kill herself.”

Sao almost fell between the cushions. “How is that silly?”

“I guess it’s not. I had a lot of self-loathing then, too. Being dark, being unhappy, being hurt, and being indignant about it was a trend for… a set of us. I obviously peaked in high school, and after failing to reach anything like the giant shapeshifter bust in college, I felt like I needed something else to wallow in. Like me being useless was all on purpose; a move of defiance to an ungrateful world, instead of me just being… useless. I’m not sure what started my girlfriend off. I met her folks and they seemed okay, so I really don’t know. We only dated for six months.”

“Everyone has their rebellious phase. No harm in experimenting with a new style.” Sao thought of Free’s many faces. His slicing edges. “It’s honestly more frightening to find a teenager who’s never had a spate of angst.”

“Whatever our original reasons were, we declared our lives were the worst of the worst. And there was harm done. If some other guy’s life was worse - which it was damn easy with the orphans and the variants and the number of poor families in the area - no, we said, no you didn’t count. We called dibs, and you were as bad as any abuser to doubt us. We shat all over charity, didn’t have the time for them with all our own troubles - that was the excuse. Delusion mistaken for insight. Maybe there was a little awareness of how stupid it was, because with the persecution complex came self-mutilation. Cutting the wrists and neck and legs. Punching holes and sticking homemade metal crap through them. Box cutters, keys, pens, metal pulled off grating and camp stoves. You called it style, but we just looked like absolute slobs. Had a ‘blood sacrifice’ phase where we cut each other, you can imagine the stains and smell didn’t get any better. Nobody talked to us after a while. Depressed people can be real assholes.”

“Were you depressed?”

“Depends who you ask. A diagnosis would have been based on things I said, in other words, things I might have made up or exaggerated at the time. If any doctors saw through the bullshit, they sure as hell didn’t let me know.”

Sao wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Regardless, if you found something that made you feel better at the time…”

“I thought it did. But also I thought I was peak enlightened, which couldn’t have been more wrong.” Rai sucked in a breath, then took a sip of tea. “The breakdown is: my ex acted like chopping up my hands was the only way to make her happier — less upset. A bowl broke, she couldn’t find a pair of shoes or got a bad grade? She’d come at me and  I dragged a few lines in. For me... I found it pretty easy, so hey, why not flaunt it? I tricked myself into thinking I was happy when she did the same to herself, like it was natural to return the favor. Grossed other people out; that gave me a reason to pretend. Legitimized feeling pissy and hated.”

“This sounds…” Sao hesitated, but Rai was waiting, so he finished the thought. “It sounds a little like Hazel, or what we know of her.”

“Setting the rules for who gets the feel bad and when. Yeah. Only I never had a home like Hazel’s so I had even less of a right to— never mind. Well, one day my ex downed two tubes of sleeping pills and overdosed. She left a note confirming she was never happy with me. That it was my fault but she knew I wouldn’t take responsibility. A nightmare of implications. What she made very clear was that I could never make another person really feel comfortable. Her girlfriend - who she was seeing behind my back - was the one who found her just in time. ”

“I’m sorry.”

“She lived, so that was a relief. She also recanted any blame from the note when she recovered, which was also a relief, because her family was ready to take me apart. Maybe they thought my dad’s side would pay for it. As if that bunch would even glance my way.” Rai shrugged. “She broke up over text, in case the suicide note wasn’t enough.”

“It’s still awful. How did you take it? You seem to have come out alright.”

“I was furious. I swore off women for a while. Became a real dick about it for the first month or so. Said some disgusting shit, thankfully nobody was taking me seriously at that point.”

“But it must have been lonely.” Sao felt he should have stayed quiet. The words sounded so banal, and worse, reminded him of Free.

“I wasn’t alone. And maybe I never even had a real problem.” Rai stood up, paced, went to dig through a desk drawer. “I talked to my ex once more, in person, before graduation. I noticed she still had her scars. Hers were like raised white lines, criss crossing over old ones, reminded me of stacked toothpicks. All over her arms, some on her shins. The hole punched in her ear with a safety pin was recovering from an infection. There was the branding, too. We removed the metal cover of a heater and tried to cut it into shapes, heat it red and press it on. The skin on her thigh didn’t even look like a butterfly anymore, it was just like one huge rash, with red holes like a hive. I actually gave myself the same burn on my arm. And I cut the metal, it was a pain in the ass; lost a fingertip. Like Jasmine, but boring.”

From the drawer, he pulled out a knife. It was a pocket knife, smaller than anything Free would deign to wield. Rai pulled off one of his new, ill fitted gloves with his teeth and ran the knife across his wrist twice, in a cross. He appeared to be digging in quite hard, but Sao could barely see any marks. One dark speck fell from the knife and landed on the tabletop. Blood. Rai squeezed his fist a few times, and nothing more fell. He spat the glove onto the desk.

“Talk about boring. The burn went away without me noticing. And the cuts? Not a single scar. The fingertip even grew back. You saw as much just yesterday: punch a knife right through, and a day later…" He placed the knife into the drawer, almost fearfully despite the show. “She said she felt like she’d never measure up. I made sawing a wrist look ‘easy’ and ‘even fun’. And there’s the sleep issue. Or lack of it. I never noticed she had insomnia. It seemed like she was sleeping well, but that’s because I was always awake for my own… nonhuman reasons. All that saying, I really was, biologically, the problem. The enabling factor, turning harm into a competition. And it’s true - I never even considered the cuts a real relief or a challenge, or permanent. If I tried to overdose like she did, at least, with that amount of sleeping pills, I’d just get a little queasy and that’s all.”

Sao mutely noted that Rai hadn’t included sleeping as part of the side effects.

“Pills were her thing. It was just sour chalk when I tried. Blood tests showed that my Life Fountain gut just burns up antidepressants and normal sleeping pills, some luck. Although, it could be that I never took enough. I didn’t press the metal down hard enough. Didn’t make enough cuts. But what would be my frame of reference for ‘enough’? It was a weird feeling - like I was faking at being a person. Not a particular kind of person, but a human being at all.”

“Rai,” Sao said slowly, “there were likely multiple reasons for what she did, you assuming all the blame isn’t a productive way of looking at it. She knew you were a Life Fountain, no? Being upset that a Life Fountain heals is like… me getting upset I can’t fly. Or that I can’t stay awake for a hundred hours continuously.”

Rai scoffed, but it was a slack sound. He was no longer puffed and pacing, he’d almost deflated really, like the cut had released some pent-up heat. His face, bleached under the office's stark lighting, enhanced the darkness of his eyebags; merging his eyes, brows, undereye pits into pools of black. The result was two droopy patches in place of eyes, like a panda.

Rai went on, finally. “You’re the objective one after all. It’s not all about science or logic when it comes to choosing who we cling to. My ex and I were similar in a lot of other ways. Our desire to mess with our skin, stick it to everyone else… I guess similar qualities fed a downward spiral. A lot of shitty situations, I’m happy to believe it wasn’t personal, that someone’s fuckup wasn’t about me. But this time, the way things match up is just way too specific. Victims actually happy to talk to me? It’s like an omen.”

“You don’t want to get set off again.”

“Or, I don’t want to remind myself of that seriously embarrassing time. Or, I might set them off.”

“I don’t think you can push them much further than they’ve already gone.”

“Yeah. That Hazel…”

The topic of Hazel was left hanging precariously as they both retreated to their drinks a while.

Feeling the sugar on his tongue, Sao was compelled to pull away from the investigation. “Denial of reality is said to be a component of mourning. If I can be any consolation, your frustrations weren’t unwarranted. I can hardly believe she was cheating on you, on top of everything.”

“That part’s almost funny in retrospect. My ex made it pretty clear it was a problem with me, not men as a whole. Well, her new girlfriend got her off self-harm and into a doctor’s office, so I have a hard time claiming I’d have been the better choice. I fell off the woman-hating train too, sooner than later, thank god. I guess we were alike when it came to tastes after all, but she understood it sooner than I did.”

“Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder, hm?”

“Oh, I was off women, but I wasn’t practicing abstinence.”

Sao blinked, and left out a brief wheeze of laughter. “That works too. Better, even.”

Rai smiled, in a way that wasn’t too callous but also (thankfully) wasn’t overly sentimental. A decent smile. “I’m not sure I’d the breakup was a cure, but it was a turning point. My ex is looking better these days. Well, the last time I saw her. No scars to, uh…”

Sao wondered if he should have asked about that, but Rai had turned inward again.

“Anyway, come senior year, old man Cad threw me back into therapy. I’ve actually been in and out since I was four or so - he wanted to make sure I was okay with the whole absent-and-dead parent situation. I think Cadmus liked the idea of some health condition Life Fountains couldn’t heal up with aura. Made him feel normal.”

“There seems like a lot of your life that human doctors and counselors wouldn’t be equipped to advise on.”

“No shit. But… I’m not the best judge. I was a little asshole. Even those that seemed like good people, I’d wind them up on purpose. Went through them like socks. I pulled myself together by the time I got out of college, though. It just took about two decades. The chief needed me to pass muster before I was allowed to work with the police. Pretty sure I gave a little Jasmine-esque routine, in reverse.” Rai swirled a glowing finger. “She exaggerated the bad tedium to make life seem worse. I made my outlook sound good by boosting the okay-to-mediocre bits of life. You know, all these years and all the good it’s probably done me, I’m never sure I’d recommend therapy myself.”

“I recall Orchid saying ‘go to therapy’ is all too often used to wash one’s hands of a difficult person. How they’d get to that stage, or what to expect, to make it work-”

“It’s better than not caring, though. We forget times and places where help wasn’t there. When it was just shock treatments, sedation, or laughed off as hysteria. We’re lucky and ungrateful…” Rai shook his head. “I don’t wanna be unfair to Cadmus. He’s never held my bullshit against me, and he believes in the process. The hospital. The studies. Human psychologists.” Rai folded his arms, hands tucked into hiding. “You know the rest. I got to be an investigator. There’s been some actual good times. I do alright. Fuck up a lot; it’s hard to pick out anything I’d call flawless but...”

“Nothing wrong with appreciating the little things. Small means less to spoil.”

Rai raised an eyebrow at that. “I guess these girls don’t just remind me of my ex so much as myself. Orchid’s forced nihilism. Maya told to champion a cause because the group says she owes them. Jasmine’s doubt if her problems measure up. Being an impostor of real suffering and not seeing that you’re lucky. Just ungrateful.

“I was never really suicidal. I never tried to die. But these girls are taking the plunge zombified, so... I can see the appeal. You sometimes wonder, if not about the method, then the outcome. Will everyone care and apologize once I’m dead? If only there was a way to just try it out, see the results…” Rai slouched into his chair and scanned the ceiling, searching for a thought in the air, like Free had done. “Hazel was the only one who really went in hoping to end things. She got the surprise in full. She seems like a weird… hateable, abrasive kid.”

His tone was soft. There was some sentiment tangled up there which Sao wasn’t sure he’d ever understand. “The kid turned out okay, in your case. I feel that she will too.” Sao uprighted himself on the sofa to put his cup back on the table. “I’m glad you were comfortable enough to tell me this.”

“You asked.”

“Yes. And after all the runarounds we’ve encountered I’m just staggered to get a wholehearted answer.”

“I guess I wanted someone to ask. Residual teenage bullshit on my part.” Rai scrambled his fringe with his hands, one gloved and one glowing. “I’m sorry for all the sulking and the shitty takes. These memories have been dragging me around by the throat and I still feel like a bastard for the time with my ex. I say it’s long past, but then I look back. Wondering if I can come up with something to stop this ‘awareness campaign’. Or if I should be going along with them, and should have pushed myself harder when I was where they are now.” A deliberate pause. “If I ran into my ex in an actual investigation, there’s no way I’d be able to stay objective.”

And he turned a searching look at Sao.

“Well, yes. It would be a formal conflict of interest, if it literally involved her,” Sao said.

“Exactly. I can rely on you for the objective stuff. How have you been holding up?”

“Passably. Even if it’s because I’m a little clueless.” Sao’s mouth felt sandpapered. He’d get less sugar, or a different sort of milk the next time he ordered from this teashop. “I’ve certainly never thought of suicide. Hurting myself? Maybe, but only if it was a severe situation. Like how one might consider lopping off a limb to get out of a trap to escape a hunter. I can’t give my life up, though. I’ve never had devotion to anyone strong enough to consider…”

Not since childhood, a time even more prone to the bastardization of regret.

“But I always find I have enough to live for, relative to the past. I guess that makes me a bit selfish. Shortsighted. Sorry - I came here to cheer you up.”

“I know, I know. I’m being nosy.” Rai stood and took the cups to the kitchen. Those sunken eyes, wrinkles fanning out at the corners and creasing over the forehead. It was like he was withdrawing into his own skull.

Sao sighed. “You’re not really done yet, are you? Go ahead, then. One question about anything; I’ll answer if it will make you feel better. That’s why I came to talk.”

“It’s a real shitty question.”

“Best use this opportunity, then.”

“Did this Cas-Free person ever hurt you?”

Then came the stare. Only this time, Rai was staring at the wall off outside in the foyer.

He’d clearly softened the question, smoothing off its original meaning, perhaps. As much as Sao would have loved to throw Free to the lions, sneer and snicker and rip him to pieces happily alongside Rai, the answer was no. And even more than he’d love to vent frustrations, he’d love to simply banish Free from the scope of conversation entirely. “Never. We worked for the same people; he was actually tasked with keeping me safe on the job. Which he did. So I got to see him completely dismantle others...”

The few nightmares Free had imparted on him did not register as harm, not in comparison to the physical scars inflicted by those who came before. Matter over mind, Sao thought, how tawdry he could be, even worse that he shared this dogma with the dreaded Hazel, for whom beatings were the standard to qualify for a morsel of sadness. Best not crack open that overpacked can of worms. Sao scratched the chalky remains of concealer off the scar on his right temple. Perhaps the timelines had gotten mixed up for Rai? “I met him after I got the scars. He doesn’t even know where they came from.”

Eyes glued to the empty wall, Rai still looked vastly uncomfortable. Still missing something crucial. Sao took inventory of the conversation. This was an information trade. He had already given his views on Free, his take on the suicidal impulse (in which he felt both proudly and shamefully lacking), and Rai knew he didn’t have much in the way of higher education stories. So that left only a couple of cards on the table.

Oh.

“Did you think Free and I were—? Your own time with your ex was only a six-month experience, I know, but you’re expecting a lot from me. Free and I only knew each other for five days at most. I was mortified at first sight, if that counts.”

He’d picked the right card. Rai’s face went beet-red and he hurried off with the empty cups. Rustling in the kitchen. Sao gasped with indelicate laughter.

“Please, Rai. I said I’ve always been averse to risk, physical danger most of all. Moreover I’ve always been a coward - extra time with Free is the last thing I‘d ever wish for. And it wasn’t even me he ever lifted a hand against. Really, I’m the one who might be deemed ungrateful.”

“Well, that last part doesn’t completely rest the case…” Rai returned, dropped back into his chair. “Sorry. I get the picture. Let’s just pretend I asked if you two played on the same bowling team. What would I know about romance, right?”

Aside from a complexion that looked stained with tomatoes, and a touch of shakiness, Rai was, at least, smiling again.

“Listen, Rai, I’m glad I had a chance to clear things up. I’m wondering now if Free was perhaps instigating the whole time.” Sao wiped his eyes. “I can see what an awkward light it would cast on everything. No, I’m grateful you can spot discomfort, and given me so many chances. And I’m sorry I’m not always forthcoming with explanations, but I… respect your judgment. You have every right to be suspicious.”

“Yeah. But you haven’t had it easy, I know that already. You’re owed some privacy…”

“I’m not owed immunity. There’s so much horror in the world, pretending it doesn’t exist lets it go on multiplying. Feeling’s not about qualifying for anything or another. Why do bad things have to happen in the first place? For us to come up in this miserable web of owed compensation?”

“You understand this shit better than I do.”

“I’ve never sought professional help; use that if you need to dock my points. You, though, made efforts to know how you work, how you see and should see the world. That’s why your assessment means a fair bit to me. At the same time, if it’s just talk, I can always fend for myself. So if ever there’s such a question on your mind, or general misgivings, don’t let it stall you. Throw it at me. Talk it out. What else do I do all day? And if I don’t answer…” Sao smiled. “Chalk it up to unreadiness on my part. Not a misstep of yours. Usually.”

“You don’t have to play therapist. You might regret it.”

“It’s my opening to come clean too. I’m saying all this because I know I can trust you not to push; no gun to my head or dangling me off a roof until I explain myself. I could probably use a little discomfort once in a while. I’ll try not to give a flat ‘no’ as often.”

Rai was coughing up a response. That beetroot shade to his face took more time to clear than cuts to his hands. “Thanks. I guess. We kind of work better when you’re hoarding secrets, though. When I can never tell what you’re thinking - I actually hope that sticks.”

“Naturally, I’d never object to a hands-off approach, if you’re so willing.”

“I wouldn’t be able to stand working with someone just like me. You being like you are means you see the shit I can’t. That’s what really keeps me from stalling. It’s productive. And more interesting.”

That felt like conclusive enough praise for Sao. He slumped back onto the sofa, feeling boneless. Like he’d been ground up by a hurricane and spit back out. Into clear, still skies. He felt lighter than usual.

“Hey, as long as you’re here, I wanted to show you this movie,” Rai said, tapping his computer awake and pummeling his keyboard and mouse simultaneously.

“It’s not a zombie movie, is it?”

Rai struggled to turn one of his screens backward to face the office sitting area. “It might be.”

It was.

It was a fairly droll one too. Sao didn’t want to make snappy judgments, but as the movie trudged on, he grew increasingly agitated. The zombies were far too clean and docile to be a real threat, even though the encroaching military response played it up to a sickening degree. Many of the zombies were quite beautiful, with their perfectly tousled surfer’s locks and punkish distressed clothing. There was a good deal of politics and romance on the side of the resistance, which didn’t do much for the lumbering pace of the plot. To make matters worse, the zombie virus was an airborne disease, which meant there was none of that gut wrenching (and thus satisfying) biting and grabbing, no juices spilling into eyes and wounds and such.

After twenty peril-free minutes, the first battle began. Sao was no expert in horror cinema or military tactics, but he was galled that when the guns began clattering, they didn’t even shoot the heads. Surely that was a prerequisite to claiming the label of a zombie film? He despaired as the armed militants fired wildly into the wave of zombie insurgents and hit nothing. Maybe one or two of the sleepwalking undead tripped, although Sao was doubtful it had anything to do with the gunfire. Some of the zombies had precariously stylish shoes.

The budget of the film was too high to be an amateur project, and Sao hoped so much effort in casting and costuming wouldn’t have been squandered on a mere joke. Was it a movie for children?

Sao even fired up his work laptop for a spot of research. All he found were middling reviews, with not a trace of irony.

Milquetoast critics were one thing, but why was Rai showing him this? Rai never shied away when it came to splatter. Was he losing his taste for fictional blood? Or did he think Sao’s criticism of his past favorites meant he had a weak stomach (when in fact Sao just didn’t think much of fuzzy film grain and old, gooey makeup that Rai lauded as technical achievement)?

Perhaps he really didn’t know Rai as well as he thought. Movie quality aside, the confusion was a comfort, somehow. There was still a good distance being maintained between them.

Chewing on that thought, Sao fell asleep before the third act. The movie so gently dropped him into a slackened stupor that he didn’t even notice he’d kicked off his shoes.

The lights were off when he woke up. Rai was pushing the computer monitor back into place. His hands were a rich, lucent blue, glowing gently against the dark wall behind the desk and reflecting off his face. He looked caught in a projection of the sky; the sky of a childhood day trip or an idyllic verdant landscape, of some world better than the one they’d been seeing as of late.

Only the light wasn’t something he had to position himself in, like a projector. It was part of him; it would follow him. What a nice thing to have, Sao thought.

“Enjoyed the movie?” Rai asked.

“Extremely relaxing.” Sao stretched. He felt more rested than he had in days. It had been a dreamless, succulent sleep, and he resisted the urge to just fall back into it. As good as death, if Jasmine’s comparison was to be believed. “How did it end?”

“Airborne vaccines.”

That was unbelievably disappointing. “So the zombies were… cured?”

“Some of them were. The ones that hadn’t been turned too long.”

“Then it wasn’t much of a solution. I simply don’t understand how nobody figured to shoot the zombies in the head.”

Rai gave an unreadable cough.

Sao hauled himself upright and felt for his phone. He pulled out both the burner and his original phone, one from each hand, feeling rather clownish. Like he should start juggling. “It’s midnight. I suspect I’m holding you up from your nighttime duties - sorry about that. I’ll get a taxi.”

“I’m going to do a midnight grocery run. You can sleep here if you want. Or take the bed, it’s not like I ever use it.”

Sao laughed at the absurdity of the offer. It was made even more absurd because it was true - Rai didn’t ever seem to use his bed. It was always made, and he changed the sheets occasionally but since he didn’t sleep, it was a mystery as to why he maintained a bed at all. Perhaps, considering earlier his anguish over not feeling ‘human’ enough, it was of some sense of propriety. The same reason Sao wouldn’t take his offer.

“Appreciate it, but I can’t fall asleep in a bed besides my own.”

“Ah. But a swivel chair or a park bench is fine.”

“Because they’re unexpected, they let me express my rebellious side. What scraps I have of one.” Sao smiled simperingly when Rai threw his hands down and went to look for his keys.

Sao ordered a taxi. They were readily available despite the late hour; this was when the late-night drinkers tended to make their way home. The young, those with energy left to burn, the night life. The spirit of togetherness was strong tonight, Sao thought.

“You feel better?” Rai asked him when he’d booked his driver. He had his leather jacket back on, a bit of purple hair snagged in a shoulder pouch’s zipper.

“I could ask you the same,” Sao said.

“I do feel better, yeah.”

There were ten minutes until the taxi arrived. Ten tranquil minutes in what had been a chaotic run of days. But how egotistical to think the universe owed them recess; wasn’t it he who made that proclamation about the randomness of misery?

Rai’s phone rang within five minutes of the taxi being called. Once they’d heard what Cole had to say over the line, Sao scrambled to cancel his ride.