Page 12 of Peripheral Vision

Nathan paces back and forth in front of me, running his hands through his messy blonde hair, and I keep waiting for him to say something. We’re having a few beers at a local bar to debrief about what’s going to happen next. A few more moments pass by before I can’t take it anymore. “Spit it the fuck out.”

He pauses his progress on the hole he was walking into the ground to glare at me. Three. Two. One?—

“What in the ever-loving fuck were you thinking agreeing to that offer? We don’t make decisions like that without all parties agreeing first. Youknowthat. But instead, you chose to be a selfish prick, not considering the repercussions for such an action, and?—”

Holding my hand up, I glance around at the people who have started to look in our direction. “I’m gonna stop you right there. First, shut up and keep your voice down. You can be pissed at me all you want but you will not set suspicion on us. Second, I neveragreedto anything. I did leave a window of chance open in case it was something we wanted to pursue, but you know as well as I do that it was too good to pass up on right away not knowing the next time we were going to get an in like that. I finally have a chance to know or tonarrow down what happened to Riley.” He starts to interject, but I stop him again. “I know it isn’t all about Riley, and I know I can do nothing to change the past. But here is what I do know… we might not be able to take down the entire network, hell, we probably won’t take down even ten percent of it, but if we can stop a major trafficking ring to this region and save all of those kids…” I sigh. “To us it sure as shit ain’t the whole enchilada, but to them—to the hundreds of innocent lives, kids and otherwise—it’s the world, and you know it.”

He finally sits down at our table and takes a long pull of his beer. “That may be true, but we still haven’t cracked how deep this runs or who is at the top. I would prefer we don’t get involved until then. Because if this goes south… we risk a lot more than ourselves. We have to sit back and consider not only the kids, but the adults that are also taken, the families that are relying on us, as well as everyone else involved in our organization. Besides, how do you even plan to keep them out of the room when the procedures are supposed to be performed?” He emphasizes his air quotes when he says “supposed”.

Truth is, I’m still thinking about how to prevent that from happening. It’s been par for the course that the sellers join us because it isn’t usually the kids we’re actually paying for, it’s their organs. But the sellers are always under the impression that they will be taking the kids back with them after the settled upon organs are harvested so they can do whatever other horrible things they do with them.

Nathan sets his beer glass down a little too loudly, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You don’t know. That means we can’t, Fletcher. Trust, if there is anybody that can figure it out, it would be you. But the fact that you can’t is raising all kinds of red flags. Let’s just run this one like we have been. Lives are still being saved, traffickers are still being taken down.” He’s right. I hate when he’s right. He knows I hate when he’s right based on the shit-eating grin that spreads across his face. “I’m waiting,” he sing-songs.

I narrow my eyes at him, wishing I could ignore his taunts, buthe is nothing if not relentless in his pursuits. “You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself, Nathan.”

“That’s half the fun though, working with the great Fletcher Collins. But don’t worry, I’m patient.” He leans back, still wearing the shit-eating grin that makes me want to throw my own beer at him.

“Fine. You’re right.” I mutter the words under my breath, tasting bitter on my tongue. I’ve learned to pick and choose my battles with him.

Nathan raises his beer in a mock toast. “Nowthatis music to my ears.”

I ignore him, focusing on the unsettling feeling that’s been gnawing at me since we started this mission. “I just don’t like not knowing who the head honcho is or why this is happening, why anyone thinks this is okay. Feels different this time, you know? The more we do it, the more of an, I don’t know, like an itch I get.” The last several jobs that have been assigned have all been in our region, with us being the only team able to bring them down. “I feel like we’ve been targeted in some way. As if someone is testingusfor once, to see how far we are willing to take things, what we’re willing to expose. Tonight was the first time we’ve ever been propositioned for more. Don’t you wonder why?”

He nods, his grin fading into something more grim. “Maybe. But it’s as we always do; keep our heads down, get the jobs done, stay on high alert, and move on. We will catch a break eventually. These networks are large, but they aren’t endless.”

My phone buzzes suddenly, but it isn’t my traditional cell phone, it’s the burner phone. I open the message, no name or number, just a line that nearly stops my heart.

I know what you’re planning, Fletcher. Watching you squirm is half the fun. Let’s see how clever you really are.

Noticing the look on my face, Nathan leans in. “What is it?”

Not saying anything, I turn the phone where he can see it and his expression immediately darkens. “Fuck.”

Chapter

Ten

DYLAN

Looking around, I take a moment to absorb the finished state of my new home. The muted hum of the city beyond the windows feels distant, like a life I haven’t quite stepped into yet. A chill runs up my spine, not from the weather, but the memory ofthat packagea few days ago. Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn, recalling the hours I spent hunched over the toilet afterward, my body purging something more than just bile—fear, perhaps.

I had spent the rest of that day buried in bed, my covers a futile shield against the intrusive thoughts. The air in my room had grown stale, thick with inaction, and I knew I couldn’t stay like that. Rotting alone felt like giving in. So I forced myself up, one heavy step at a time, tackling the chaos around me until I carved out this small semblance of order.

Now, the house looks complete—organized, lived-in, even cozy. But my list of things to do remains glaringly unchecked. The weekend stretches ahead of me like a countdown clock. I have to resume classes soon, and before that, I need to find a job. With a sigh, I return to my room to change into clothes becoming of someone job searching.

I change into a simple yet polished outfit: a crisp dusty pink button-up shirt tucked into black jeans, paired with clean white sneakers. It’s nothing fancy, I’m only searching for a job on campus after all. But it strikes the right balance between casual and professional nonetheless—enough to make a good first impression over the dozens of other students I’m sure are needing a job.

As I adjust the collar in the mirror, I take a steadying breath. My reflection stares back, my hazel eyes shadowed with fatigue but determined. This isn’t just about a job; it’s about reclaiming some semblance of normalcy, finding stability in the whirlwind my life has become. Grabbing my bag, I double check the contents: copies of my resume, a notepad, and a pen. Prepared enough, I tell myself, and I sling the back over my shoulder. With one last glance around the house, I head out, saying goodbye to Alaska first, my steps carrying the weight of uncertainty. But there’s something else present as well—the faint hope of progress.

It isn’t as if I need to get a job on campus, but it will give me the opportunity to get my bearings and become more familiar with the layout. And I’d prefer not to drive any further than I have to, my schedule is busy enough as it is. Or it will be once I start my studies again. I make a mental note to tour the buildings where my classes will be held. Before starting my truck, I pull out the list I printed off for my fall courses, smoothing it against the steering wheel:

CHE 3114 - Fluid Transport

CHE 3124 - Chemical Engineering Simulations & Process Modeling

CHE 3185 - Chemical Reactor Analysis & Design

ENGL 3764 - Technical Writing

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