4 Francis's Search

A cloud of purple smoke envelops the girl. Pain like nothing she's ever felt, like a thousand tiny hooks pulling her apart. Through the semi-opaque gas she sees her hands spread thin, become invisible, insubstantial. Soon her body is gone, dissolved to nothing. And yet, somehow, she still lives.

4.1 Lock Down

Francis had had an exciting weekend. First he'd managed to land himself a gig driving a getaway boat, then he'd been in a gang fight and an explosion. After that he'd randomly learned how to set things on fire with his mind, accidentally burned off all his hair, got in a fight with his mom, got in a fight with a werewolf, got chased by the cops, and finally got locked up in a cell by himself.

A man-nurse had been coming 'round every so often with a paper cup of chill pills, so being in lock down had been pretty enjoyable so far.

The current dose was starting to wear off though, and Francis was beginning to realize that something was wrong with this picture. He'd been in lock down before, and they hadn't given him free chill pills then, or let him have a cell to himself. This wasn't the overnight holding cell at the police station either. Those walls had been smooth cement. These were rough and the door was solid steel, not just bars.

Something was definitely off, and Francis decided he needed to figure out what it was.

The man-nurse came back a half hour or so later with another paper cup and two white pills. Francis took them with a pretending-to-be-high smile and tipped his head back, swallowing saliva. The nurse left again and Francis caught a glimpse of a blue uniform outside the door, not quite the color of a cop's getup.

Francis focused on the pills inside his mouth and his newfound powers. Apparently if you learned how to set things on fire with your thoughts, you automatically became fireproof, even if your hair and clothes didn't.

And now he had a mouthful of smoke and ash. He coughed into his shirt, wiped his tongue on the back of his hand and got up to see what all was in the cell. Nothing much. A cot, a toilet, an overhead light and the steel door. A tiny red LED blinked in one corner of the ceiling, which meant either a camera or a smoke detector.

Francis laughed. It didn't matter to him what it was. It wasn't even worth the trouble of setting it on fire. He dug into that well of heat and passion that must have until recently just slipped his notice and turned his thoughts to the door.

Specifically the handle. Even if the steel was twice as thick there, the handle was the weak point. Rather than burn down the whole thing, all he had to do was destroy that one part.

The steel started to glow, dull red at first, then brighter and brighter. The fire alarm went off and Francis dug into the well, like a volcano sucking up lava to spew into the sky. The air wavered around him and flames played around his hands and on top of his head.

Once it started getting hard to breathe Francis made a fist and slammed it into the waxy, white-hot steel.

The door sheared open with a metallic groan and cool air rushed into the cell, making the flames around him dance wildly. Voices were shouting out in the hall, but Francis couldn't make out the words over the wind. Laughing, he walked out into the hall, his shoes leaving gummy footprints on the floor.

Half a dozen men armed with guns and dressed in firemen's coats blocked his exit. The coats didn't cover their legs though. Francis raised a hand and the four men dropped to the floor, writhing.

Francis's smile faltered at the screams. The fun of the situation was gone now and he suddenly felt a whole lot more sober than he had a moment ago. He didn't actually want to burn these cops alive, any more than he'd wanted to kill that werewolf thing.

But now he was facing a problem he'd encountered before with the werewolf. Once he got started, it was hard to stop.

Francis jumped over the cops' bodies, trying to think about anything but fire. But it was hard, like trying not to think about elephants when you were in a room full of them. The whole prison was hot as hell and flames covered his hands. He couldn't not think about fire.

He ran past steel doors, trying to put distance between himself and the cops. More cops tried to block his path and he careened through them, unstoppable. Screams followed in his wake.

A door exploded at his touch and Francis found himself in a stairwell. He ran up it, burst through another door and came to another sort of hallway, carpeted and pleasant. A good sign.

The paint blistered as he ran past and he could see sprinklers descending from the ceiling, but the water evaporated before it could touch him. I guess I won't need to buy umbrellas ever again.

The carpeted hall led to an office lobby with a security desk in the middle. An overweight black man was yelling into a phone, but Francis ignored him and crashed through the glass doors on the far side.

The street outside was mostly empty; the real cops and firefighters hadn't arrived yet, luckily for them. Francis ran without looking back, dazed and sick to his soul.

4.2 Cooldown

Eventually Francis made it to the edge of the lake, south of the marina where all the fancy waterfront houses were. His clothes had mostly burnt off, but at least his boxers were more or less intact. A little charred in places.

He walked, ignoring the cars that honked at him, ignoring that sick dread in his heart, ignoring the tough asphalt on his bare feet. He tried to focus only on moving forward, not thinking about anything that could burn.

It wasn't until the houses had started thinning out and the trees were filling in that Francis began to feel that he had himself under control again. He left the road and pushed through some underbrush to go sit on a fallen log by the side of the lake.

The water was glassy and calm, a great day for fishing. Maybe if it stayed nice he would walk back to the marina and take his dad's boat for a spin.

That would be a great distraction from what he'd done. Francis put his head in his hands. It hadn't been his fault, right? First off, those guys had been asking for it, and second, he hadn't wanted it to happen, it had just happened on its own. That was the nature of fire, right? You got it started and then it just kind of grew on its own from there. He'd fed it too much trying to burn down the door, and it had just gone wild.

It couldn't be murder if he hadn't wanted to do it. Homicide, yes, murder, no. Maybe not even homicide, but self-defense.

He looked out on the lake. Too bad there wasn't a way to get to the ocean from here. Then he could take the boat and just cruise down to Mexico or Cuba or someplace. Oh well. He entertained a fantasy of him and Maria running away to Mexico. He would eat tacos on the beach and she would teach him Spanish.

Another guilty pain twisted in his heart. Where was Maria? Had he really not seen her since Friday? He'd thought about her, sure, but he hadn't thought enough to call her or anything. He didn't even know if she was okay or if she'd been hurt in the explosion. Or the gang fight. Or been caught by the police...

Francis swore. If she was okay, she was gonna kill him, no matter his excuses. And if she wasn't okay he would do it himself.

Francis got up off his log, climbed back up to the road and started jogging for the marina.

He didn't have the code for the yacht club, but he did know the one for the bathroom and laundry room. Technically only people who lived on their boats were supposed to have those codes, but Francis had made a point to learn them because sometimes it was nice to have a place to shower or do laundry away from home.

Fortunately someone had left their clothes unattended in the dryer and Francis stole himself a t-shirt and a pair of paint encrusted jeans. Then he splashed some water on his face and went out to use the payphone at the top of B Dock before the owner of the painty jeans came back.

He dialed Maria's cell number, wondering if it would be worth it to tell his dad that he had lost his cell phone. He might get a beating or he might get a new cell phone. It was always hard to tell with Dad.

Maria didn't answer and Francis left a message on her machine. A long one with lots of apologizing and excuses. And then a second, shorter message telling her not to bother calling his cell, and that he'd be at the marina for a while.

Since he didn't have his keys on him, he waited for someone to open the dock gate, and slipped in behind them. Not much later, he had jimmied open the forward hatch on his dad's boat and was laying back in the aft cabin, picking the melted remains of his sneakers off his feet, hoping Maria would show up and trying to ignore the sirens that drove by every so often.

4.3 School Time

It was Tuesday morning and Francis was lying in bed in his house, working up the resolve to go to school. The phone rang downstairs, and Francis's heart jumped. He threw himself out of bed and ran for the landline, but his mother answered. Francis stopped dead in his tracks, trying to make out what she was saying down in the kitchen. Her tone was curt.

Then the sound of the phone being hung up and a shout.

"Francis!"

Francis passed a hand over his stubbly scalp and sauntered down the stairs. "What?"

"Why aren't you at school?" His mother stood at the foot of the stairs, wearing a bathrobe and last night's makeup. "And why did your teacher call me to see where you were?"

"I dunno, 'cause you're my mom?" He tried to slip past her, but she slammed her hand into the wall.

"You are so lucky your father's not here. You march back up there, get dressed and get yourself to class. It's enough that you run wild on the weekends, but skipping school? I'm not going to tolerate it, Francis. Not while I'm responsible for you."

Francis hunched his shoulders. "I'm going." He turned and got ready to leave, realizing he didn't have his wallet or any of the other stuff he'd had on him when he'd gotten picked up by the not-police. He swore. Now he'd have to cancel his credit card and get a new one sent.

He grabbed his backpack, threw in a notebook and a pen and ran down the stairs, spinning his keys on one finger. At least he hadn't lost those. His mother stared him down as he left.

He drove to the school on autopilot, trying to think what he had to do. First, he had to find Maria. Second, find out who it was who had locked him up the day before. Third, talk to his hook up with the Kids and see if he could still get paid for risking his life in the boat gig. Fourth, relieve some stress somehow. Punching something would help.

Maybe school was actually a good place to be going. Maria was a couple years older than him, and had only graduated last year. Lots of people knew her and lots of people were going to be at school.

The teacher gave him a sarcastic, "how nice of you to join us, Mr. Stone," when he arrived but at least she didn't say anything about his hair.

Francis grunted something that could be interpreted as an apology and sat at the back of the class. He waited for the teacher to get back into the swing of her lecture before he leaned over and asked the dude next to him, "Yo. You seen my girl Maria lately?"

"Nah, man," the guy said and leaned forward like he was paying attention to the lecture.

Francis leaned forward too so he could whisper in his ear, "Yeah, well, if you see her, or know of someone who's seen her, lemme know, 'kay?"

The guy said he would, and Francis leaned back in his chair, half listening to the lecture, half deciding who would be the best person to ask about Maria. Some chick, probably.

Eventually class ended and Francis used the five minutes before the next class to ask some strategically popular and chatty girls if they'd seen Maria. They hadn't but he knew he could count on them to spread the word, even without him asking them to.

A couple more pointless hours went by, and then it was lunch. Francis headed straight for his car and was out of the parking lot before anyone else had so much as started their engine. Maria's folks lived a ways away, and he had to be back before class started again. He'd rather not have the truant officer calling his mom twice in one day.

Compared to his house, Maria's house was tiny and sub-par, but compared to most the houses in Dakota, it was practically a palace. Three stories, manicured lawn, two car garage. Francis knocked on the door and was answered by Maria's mother, looking angry.

"Hey, Mrs. Alvarez. Is Maria around?"

Maria's mother scowled at him. "No. I have not seen her since Friday. She does not answer my calls, does not come home. I assume she is with you."

Francis shook his head. "No, I haven't seen her since then, and I don't think anyone from school has either. She didn't say anything to you, did she?"

Maria's mother didn't look quite as angry now. "No. She says nothing. I call the police, but they say, 'oh, we are so busy, I am sorry, we can't help.'" Francis could see now that Mrs. Alvarez's eyes were red and puffy, like she'd been crying.

"Seriously?" He swore, cussing out the cops. Mrs Alvarez smiled a little at that. This was the first time she'd warmed up to him at all, and Francis honestly wished she hadn't. He didn't want to be friends with Maria's mom and bond with her because Maria was missing. He'd rather have a grumpy Mrs. Alvarez and a Maria there to complain about it.

"What are you going to do?" Mrs. Alvarez asked. "Will you look for her?"

"Yeah, I'm looking." He got his notebook out of his backpack, wrote down the number to his parents' landline and handed her the page. "Lemme know if she shows up here, okay?"

Mrs. Alvarez took the page, folded it up. "You are a good boy, Francis." She patted his cheek and let him leave for school again.

He drove fast, and so he would have a couple minutes before the end of lunch to check on his sources, the popular girls. He got stopped in the parking lot though, by some underclassman girl he didn't know, but who looked kinda familiar. Long brown hair, green eyes.

"Francis," she said the minute he opened the car door. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

He stood, closed the door and locked it. "Yeah, alright." What did she know about Maria?

The girl looked around. "Can we go someplace private?"

That made Francis feel sick to his stomach. Whatever she knew, it wasn't going to be good. He unlocked his car again, the most private place on campus. People could see through the windows, but at least no one could listen in.

The girl took the passenger seat after a moment of hesitation. What, did she think he was going to attack her? He thought back to his recent exploits and decided that was exactly what she was thinking and totally right to think it.

"You're Hotstreak," the girl said, after digging a tape recorder out of her backpack.

Francis thought back and remembered where he'd seen this girl last. Right before that fight with the werewolf. And then he'd almost gone off on that old guy who'd asked him what he was. Which had been super rude. Francis tried to remember exactly what he'd said.

"I guess. What's with the recorder?"

"I'm with the school paper. Can I interview you?"

Francis swore. "What? You're not here to tell me about Maria?"

The girl looked down at her recorder. "No, but I'm going to be a reporter and being a reporter is all about finding out stuff. I could help you look for her. And if we put this story in the paper, maybe someone who knows her will read it and-"

"Yeah, sure." No one actually read the school paper, at least Francis didn't think anyone did, but the reporter girl had given him an idea. Go to the real newspaper and have them do a story, or print a missing persons thing like milk cartons did for kids sometimes.

"So I can record-?"

"I said sure."

The girl pushed a button on the recorder and the little wheels inside started to spin. She even had a microphone, which she set on the dash, pointed mostly at him.

"So." She opened up her notebook. "Francis. Rumor has it that you are actually the bang baby known as Hotstreak. Is that true?"

"What? What's a bang baby?"

"You..." The girl looked at her recorder, like she was thinking about pausing it. She didn't. "You haven't seen the news?"

Francis just gave her a disgusted look. Did she really think he'd had time to sit and watch the news these past couple days, when all this stuff was going down?

"It's what they're calling the gang- the people who got caught in that gas leak on Pier Fourteen."

"Gas leak?" There could have been a gas leak that night, but between the explosions and the fighting and everything else, Francis must have missed it.

"Yeah. You were there, right?"

"So what if I was?" Francis congratulated himself on making it possible for him to deny having been there, in case his mom saw this and he needed to argue that no, he wasn't in a gang. Which he wasn't. He was more like a contractor.

"They all got powers, Francis," the girl said. "Or turned into monsters or..."

She kept on talking, explaining what the people on the news had said, but Francis wasn't listening. It was disappointing to learn that his powers weren't something latent, something special inside him that he'd only just discovered, but rather a side effect of some mysterious gas. But, it did make a lot more sense, and explained where that werewolf thing had come from. It also made him feel better about probably burning those guard guys alive. It wasn't really his power, it was like some disease or symptom he'd been given, not a real part of himself.

Thinking of the guard guys again made his hands hot, so he focused on not thinking about fire.

He thought about Maria. She had been there, at the dock that night, inside the warehouse itself as part of the break in crew. Did that mean she had powers now too? Or what if she'd turned into some kind of monster?

"But," the reporter girl was saying, "they keep saying they don't have the resources to launch a full investigation of the scene..."

"Wait, before that, what did you say?"

"That they don't know where the gas came from?"

Francis frowned. The leader of the Kids would know where the gas had come from. He wouldn't have tried to rob the place if he hadn't known who owned it and what was inside. Well, he might not have known about the gas, and might have been after something else, but you didn't get to be a gang leader by doing stupid stuff like robbing random warehouses without figuring out how to get past security first and whether the goods inside were worth it.

"And these other bang babies, the cops've been locking them up?"

The girl nodded. "A few. If they committed crimes and got caught."

"Right." That ruled out the jail as a good place to look for either Maria or the leader of the Kids. The Kids were too smart to pull anything right now and get caught if they did. Especially if they had powers. It also meant bang babies weren't being rounded up just for being bang babies. That was good.

"What's your next question?" Francis asked, and the girl consulted her notebook.

Francis ended up telling her only part of his story, leaving out getting locked up by those guys who probably weren't police. In the process he learned about what was going on at the hospital and how there was going to be a town hall meeting open to the public that evening.

Maybe watching the news was a good idea.

4.4 Town Hall Meeting

The hospital turned out to be a bust. It was hectic and noisy and full of people trying to look for friends or relatives who might have been turned into monsters. Francis eventually got to talk to a stressed looking nurse, who told him that no, there was no Maria Alvarez on her list, but they had a lot of Jane Does and people they hadn't even been able to identify as Janes or Johns yet. Francis left his number on the call list and told the nurse he'd be back tomorrow.

He drove home, glad to find that his mother was out of the house. He called Maria's cell and left another message, then checked the messages on the landline machine. Mrs. Alvarez had called, and Francis called her back to tell her he didn't know anything new yet.

Then he called up his bank to get his cards canceled and made himself some food before driving down to the marina. Marina security was a joke, and sometimes Maria would meet him at his dad's boat after school. Maybe she would think to go there, even if she hadn't got his messages. In the back of his mind though, he was starting to get the feeling she might not have got those messages not because she'd lost her phone or turned into a monster, but because, what with the fighting and the explosions, she might not have got out okay.

Francis let himself onto B Dock and went down to the boat. It was empty, but that didn't mean anything. He cleaned up the mess he'd made with the melted rubber yesterday and killed some time before leaving for the town hall meeting.

He had a heck of a time finding parking and by the time he got to the auditorium it was mostly full. He found a seat with an okay view of the stage and waited for the mayor to come on.

Francis had never seen the mayor before, so he was surprised when she turned out to be a tiny black woman with short hair. He didn't even realize she was the mayor until she said, "and as your mayor, I..." during her opening speech. Her speech didn't have much to say really, just that everyone should be proud of the cops and the hospital and that they were "doing everything in their power to keep the city safe and determine the exact cause of this problem." But, she warned them, that what with the outbreak of crime and current lack of funding and staff, it would likely be a "long and difficult road" before everything went back to normal. She ended with some more feel-good words about the city pulling together and talked about the '96 riots as proof that they could overcome this crisis too.

Francis clapped along with everyone else when she was finished, but the applause wasn't very long or loud.

Then another woman stepped up to the podium, this one a worker at the hospital. She got all teary talking about some of the horrible things she'd seen as a result of the gas leak and the number of people who had died. Francis felt sick to his stomach hearing that. The way she'd said it made it sound like the gas had actually killed some of the people exposed to it. What if Maria...? Or what if he himself was a ticking time bomb, ready to literally explode any day now?

"And now, a few words from community leader Robert Hawkins of the Lakeside Recreation and Community Center," the MC said, and an overweight black man took the microphone.

"Madam Mayor, members of the council, on behalf of the community, I have a few questions I would like to ask." There was a pause as Hawkins pushed up his glasses and looked at his notes. "I believe, we all believe, that the public has the right to know the exact status of this investigation. You cannot leave us in the dark as to the nature of this event. The citizens of Dakota are left wondering whether the Big Bang was an attack, an accident or something else entirely. We are left fearing for the health and safety of our friends and loved ones, and we are left wondering will this happen again?

"In these uncertain times, transparency is the key to trust, and now more than ever, the people of Dakota need to be able to trust their elected officials." Hawkins turned to the medical worker sitting in the front row. "I would like to commend Dr. Malloney for reaching out to the media and not shying away from making any new developments known, be they good news or bad." He paused while the audience applauded, this time with a whole lot of enthusiasm. Hawkins was a good speaker.

"My first question for you, Madam Mayor and members of the council is: How do you plan on informing the public about the root causes and motivations behind the big bang?"

The mayor leaned into her microphone. Francis had to crane his neck to see her, half hidden behind the heads of the audience.

"Thank you, Mr. Hawkins. I assure you that we are doing everything we can to further the investigation. And I promise that the detectives in charge will disclose any and all information regarding the case as soon as it is within their legal and professional good interests to do so. Until such time, we all must wait, myself included."

A murmur ran through the audience, but quieted again when Hawkins started speaking. "In the meantime, what do you and the council plan on doing to prevent a second Big Bang situation?"

There was some shuffling around of microphones as the question was passed off to one of the other councilmen. This guy wasn't as good at public speaking, and Francis felt himself slip into classroom mode, drifting into an almost meditative state. A few words washed over him. Increased police force, improved waterfront security, video drones...

And then Hawkins was speaking again, asking about financing and Francis completely lost the thread. He found himself wishing Maria was there, so she could pay attention and explain it all for him later.

Finally the chief of police came up and gave some advice for what people should do if they encountered a bang baby, which sounded an awful lot like the PSA assembly they'd had back at the start of the school year about gun violence. Mostly he was saying to run away and call 911. Francis figured it was a good strategy. If he went ballistic, for whatever reason, it'd probably be end of the road for anyone who tried to talk him down or confront him.

Francis smiled a little at the thought. He felt tough, knowing he could take on anybody if he needed to. That was something that'd give anybody confidence.

Then came questions from the general audience. Most of these were pretty nitty-gritty, so Francis got up and left. If anyone said anything important, the news girl would hear about it, and she could tell him.

He drove away, feeling like the meeting had been a waste of time. Even though Hawkins and the others had asked the questions and the mayor had responded, he still didn't really know anything new.

4.5 Buddy

Francis called up his weed dealer. His mom still wasn't home, so it was safe to use the landline.

"Yo, Buddy. It's F-Stop. You seen Jackson lately?" Jackson was his man inside the Fuhrer's Children. Not the nicest guy, but he handed out jobs every once in a while.

"Nah, man. Not since before the BB. You don't think...?"

"Maybe. Who knows? Say, you haven't seen my girl Maria either, have you?" He leaned against the wall, looking at his fuzzy reflection in the darkened window. Maybe his hair would grow back before Maria showed up. Then she wouldn't have to see him all egg-heady.

"Nuh-uh. What, you think she's cheating?"

"With Jackson? Please." Francis rolled his eyes.

Buddy laughed. "There anything else I can get for you?"

"Nah," Francis said. He was kinda broke until his Dad decided to give him his allowance since it didn't look like the Kids were gonna pay him. "Though if you know anybody else in the Kids..."

"Hey, I'm not part of the Kids." Buddy's joking tone was gone now. "I just know Jackson 'cause him and me grew up together. If I was you, I wouldn't go after him right now. I mean, I don't even wanna know what some of those guys can do now. 'Least the ones that survived. And with the cops all riled up-"

"Yeah, I heard they're gonna buy some drones or something."

"Exactly. I'd leave them alone, F-Stop. Jackson owe you some money?"

"Yeah."

Buddy snorted. "You're not gonna get that back. Sorry, man."

Francis laughed. "You're only sorry 'cause now I'm not gonna give it to you."

They joked for a minute more and Francis hung up. He had a couple ideas on how to get in touch with the Kids, but Buddy was right. Getting tangled with them right now was a bad idea. Firepower or no.

So, scratch the Kids. Finding Maria was more important than finding out who made the gas, and besides, the cops were on top of that and probably way better at it than him.

He stared at himself in the window. He had to find her, but how? Where could she have gone? He'd checked with her friends, her family, the hospital. If she was in jail, her mom would have known. If she'd been turned into a monster, she would have known she could come to him, would have left him a message or a note.

She couldn't be dead. He refused to even think that. She had to be somewhere in the city, and if she hadn't contacted him, it was because she couldn't. And the only way she couldn't was if someone was stopping her.

Francis slapped a hand to his forehead. Of course. It was so obvious. The fake cops had her.

4.6 Bait

Francis had stopped by the school early that morning to check in with the girls he'd asked to look for Maria and told them he'd found her, they didn't have to keep looking. This wasn't totally true, but it wasn't totally a lie either. He knew where she was, he just didn't know where that where was exactly.

So now he was walking along the edge of downtown, like he had been not too long after getting his powers. He picked out a mark pretty quick. A hotdog cart parked under some trees next to an empty lot. The stand would be insured, and no one was going to miss a couple trees.

Like cracking the tab on a soda he himself had shaken up, Francis thought about fire. His hands got hot and he focused on that, wondering what it would look like to see the hotdog cart go up in flames. Would the tires melt, or would they explode?

Smoke dribbled upward from the top of the cart. He glanced around, making sure there were people around to see, and then before the power started taking over too much he returned his gaze to the cart. Smoke billowed and there was a bang as the tire nearest to him exploded. The flames flickered on his hands now, and he could feel them on his head.

Francis laughed as the other tire popped and flames started licking up the sides of the trees around the cart. A man wearing a silly cardboard hat came running down the street, a piece of toilet paper clinging to his shoe. Francis ignored him and stalked towards the burning trees. The grass was catching now too, a red carpet laid out for the king of fire.

The hotdog man stood at the edge of the lot, watching his livelihood burn. Francis felt the urge to do to him what he'd done to the rest of the hotdogs, then realized this was the fire talking and set to work on backing down. Whenever part of him thought more, he countered that thought with nah, this is good. The trees were burning nicely, like logs in the fireplace at Christmas time. And the sound of sirens was sweet carols.

Francis figured running from the cops would make him look extra guilty, so he ran, hot and hard and fast, his power wafting him along like a piece of ash. Then his pants caught fire and he didn't know how to put them out because his hands were on fire too. He stopped in the middle of the street, swearing, trying to shake the fire off his hands like it was water or sticky pieces of gum. Then the fire truck caught up with him.

A fireman sprayed him with white foam, which put out the flames, but kept on melting and bubbling and smoking after.

"Are you okay?" the fireman shouted, dropping the extinguisher and running over to him.

Francis drew back his arm and punched the man in the gut. The heavy fire coat took most of the blow, but the fireman still doubled over and coughed. Francis looked around for a police car, but didn't see one. Just a fire engine at the far end of the block, where the hotdog cart had been. Already they had hoses going and were redirecting traffic. An ambulance was parked next to the engine, red and blue lights flashing.

He drew out the fire again and focused on the fire engine. He reached out with one hand, palm facing the big red truck. This would bring the cops.

His shoes squelched as he walked, leaving a trail of foam behind him.

The windows were the first to go, followed by the tires. Then the gas tank caught and a fireball careened into the sky. Francis's excitement and joy were palpable, waves of heat washing off him. Some little voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably cool it, or this was gonna be like the prison all over again.

But the prison was what he wanted, right? The fake cops'd take him down sooner or later and then he could find out where they were keeping Maria.

It was the thought of Maria that brought him down off his high. For once, thinking of her wasn't a happy thought, it was a scared one.

The whirlwind of fire around him died down and Francis became aware of other people doing things. Firemen mostly, all suited up. A couple of them were aiming their remaining hose at the engine while the rest escorted bystanders to safety.

A black shape roared overhead and the next thing Francis knew he was drenched. A forest fire helicopter. Steam rose in clouds from his body, and the fire in him was out. It was a nice relief, like getting out of the shower after a long gym session. He looked down at himself, realizing his clothes were ruined again.

He watched as a second engine rolled up and the firemen went to work putting out the fire. It was kind of like watching ants running around in an ant farm. They all looked busy, but he didn't really follow what they were doing.

Once the blaze was under control one of the paramedics approached him, asked if he was okay.

Francis thought about assaulting him, but his heart just wasn't in it. He accepted a blanket from the paramedic and walked back to his car, wondering what it took to get arrested in this town.

4.7 Short Drive

Half naked, Francis went for a drive. He'd gone too big with the fire at the hotdog stand and now he didn't really have it in him to let out the fire again. He could feel it there, and it wanted out, but he wasn't going to let it.

Instead he tried acting smart.

He started at the marina and worked his way away from the lake, trying to retrace his steps after his crazy run away from the prison with the steel doors and the fake cops. Or maybe they weren't fake cops, and those had just been prison guard uniforms.

South led to the suburbs, north to the projects, and west brought him to a weird pocket of office buildings on the far side of downtown. His gut told him it had to be somewhere around here, but everything looked legit, all gleaming steel and tinted glass. No fire damage anywhere, nothing that looked like it could house a prison.

He drove around for a while longer, getting honked at for going ten under the limit, then gave up and returned to the marina.

There were some old blankets up in the forward cabin of the boat. Francis dragged these up onto the deck, wrapped himself up in them and stared up at the sky, thinking of the best way to get himself arrested by fake cops tomorrow.

4.8 Reunion

Francis woke up cold and in the dark. There was a weird pressure in the air, a quietness. He should have heard the slosh of waves and the hum of traffic, but everything was muffled. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw that one of his blankets was draped over the railing.

The five day stubble on the back of his neck stood up in goosebumps.

"Who's there?"

"Paco."

Francis was on his feet in no time. "Maria?" Paco was her nickname for him.

"Yes."

Francis's breath came in short, pained bursts. The voice wasn't Maria's exactly, and didn't seem like it was coming from anywhere. Or maybe it was from everywhere.

"Where?" he whispered, even as his eyes were drawn to the blanket draped over the railing. Though he could see now it wasn't touching the railing, draped on nothing, hanging in the air, just touching the edge of the deck. He swallowed.

"Yo, girl, you don't gotta hide from me," he told the blanket. "I was there, I know what the gas can do. I seen a guy turned into some kind of purple wolf monster, so whatever it is I can take it." He passed a hand over his stubbly scalp. "It's not like I didn't get out totally fine."

No answer, but the blanket still hung there, not moving. The pressure in the air remained, still and quiet.

"Maria?" He took a step toward the blanket.

"Don't."

He stopped, arm outstretched.

"No soy yo."

Francis didn't know enough Spanish to know what she meant, but knew Maria well enough to know that whatever she was thinking, it was too personal, too important to say in English. He dredged up one of her favorite phrases. "Te quiero."

A ripple went through the air. "I'm sorry, Francis. I am gone."

"Nah, girl. You're right here." He took a step forward, then another and pinched a fold of the blanket between his fingers.

"Don't," Maria said, even as he was already pulling the blanket away.

He dropped it to the deck and took a step back in shock. There was nothing under the blanket.

"I told you, I am nothing." Her voice came from nowhere and everywhere.

Francis got over his shock pretty quick, thanks to all the crazy stuff he'd seen and done in the past week. "Nah. So you're a ghost. We can work with that."


Author's note:

Yay, Francis found his girl, kind of? We'll learn what's up with Maria later. Next chapter returns us to Virgil and Richie. Virgil fights some guys.