Page 45 of Fire
“Senator, you have been one of the strongest advocates of the ASC’s authority and independent operation,” Cooper said. “In the face of public outcry over the shocking footage we’ve all seen, how can you continue to support an organization that has clearly been less than forthcoming with its methods—and, many might say, unacceptably cavalier with human life?”
The senator was visibly sweating, even with the magic of the camera. “Anderson, thank you for having me on tonight. The fact remains that the ASC is the first line of defense against monsters from our worst nightmares. Frankly, you and I should give thanks every day that we don’t have to worry about our loved ones slaughtered by freaks in brazen attacks. The peace of mind we take for granted is all due to the brave men and women of the ASC who constantly put their lives on the line to keep us safe.”
“Senator,” Cooper said coolly, “the Cleveland video shows three of those so-called brave men and women gunning down bystanders, including children, without provocation, warning, or sufficient justification offered by the ASC. How can you condone that?”
The senator tried to force an ingratiating smile. It made him look ill. “I don’t condone. Those individuals clearly committed a horrific act of violence outside the bounds of ASC operating protocol. However, we can’t dismiss a vital organization’s decades of public service to our defense because of the actions of a few bad apples.”
“Yet new accounts are coming in daily that suggest this sort of reckless violence is closer to standard practice. What do you say to that, Senator?”
“Chickenshit bastard,” Jake growled, as the senator fumbled through his reply, clearly searching for a balance between defending the ASC and covering his own ass. “How the fuck can he sit there and defend them when the proof is right in front of his goddamn face?”
“He’s being blackmailed,” Toby said, with offhand but complete certainty.
Jake looked at Toby, who had turned his head to watch attentively, his face showing nothing but professional, almost clinical interest.His french fries and half a sandwich lay forgotten on his plate.
“What?” Jake asked, unsure what he’d missed.
Toby tipped his chin toward the senator on TV. “He’s being blackmailed. Other supporters, other...” He swallowed. “Other individuals might not be, but he is.”
As Jake took that in, Toby looked away, out the window, and took a slow, deliberate breath. Then he picked up his sandwich and took a bite before returning his attention to the interview.
“Now is not the time to weaken America’s defenses against the supernatural threat!” the senator declared, forehead glistening beneath the hot studio lights. “That is exactly what these freaks are waiting for.”
Jake decided that he didn’t have it in him to ask how Toby knew about the blackmail. “You gonna eat your fries?”
Toby gave him a relieved look that Jake didn’t like at all. “No,” he said, pushing them over. “Not really hungry right now.”
* * *
Tobias had felta strange dissociation the first time he saw the ASC massacre.
He couldn’t feel shocked by the bloody horror of the footage (the psychic’s death was cleaner and shorter than anything she would have received in FREACS). What gripped him instead were thereactions. Tobias felt compelled to listen to each defense made of the ASC, and then—to his real shock—those who dared to challenge them.
Tobias still found it hard to believe that civilians would have complex opinions about what hunters did in America’s backyards. More astounding yet was the growing number of people who watched the video and saw not a group of hunters making a regrettable mistake in the pursuit of their difficult but honorable job, but something appalling and outrageous.
There wereprotesters. Entire families showing up on the streets, willing to go public on their stance against the ASC. All for the death of a freak and her family.
It stirred something inside him, something deep and nameless, to see how many people were coming forward now, spilling out their suffering and grief and anger toward the ASC.
A deep-seated terror still rattled his bones some days. He had nightmares about how quickly the same strangers who smiled at him would turn on him with revulsion and horror, eager to end him with anything they had at hand, if they knew the truth.
Some of them still would, certainly. But perhaps not all of them.
“It’s a tragedy,” Tobias said one day, in the middle of yet another news analysis of the political repercussions to the ASC massacre.
“Fucking tragedy,” Jake muttered. “More like a horror show. Come on, let’s watch something else.”
Tobias could have said many things to that. Mentioned that he was talking more to himself than Jake. That this was what still astonished him, day after day: people everywhere were treating a freak’s death as atragedy. But in the end, he looked at the dark circles around Jake’s eyes and the tension in his jaw, and he saw the appeal in taking a break from it all.
“I have a better idea.” Tobias shut off the TV. Moving over to the bed, he cupped Jake’s chin and kissed him. Tasting Jake’s mouth, feeling him open and relax into the kiss, felt good, sweet, and real in a way the endless media coverage had not for days.
Jake liked that idea too.
Later, wrapped in Jake’s arms, Tobias thought about Jake: the comforting weight of him. Who he was. He seemed to be taking this harder than Tobias. The public debate about ASC brutality was making him jumpy around strangers, more watchful than usual. Reaching for the bottle more often.
Maybe they needed a break. Somewhere remote, without a TV. Tobias would leave his laptop in the Eldorado, and it would just be them, Tobias and Jake, for a while.
But before Tobias could make the suggestion, a job with another vengeful spirit popped up on the outskirts of Chicago, and Tobias did not have to give up his addiction to the news coverage just yet.
