DM-R: Late afternoon, when the commuters begin boarding the bus, a man wearing a blue suit and black-framed glasses ends up sitting next to you. DM-R: The bus continues to fill up over the next couple stops. DM-R: At one point, he seems to be examining his right hand, the hand nearest you. ***Bernard turns to the man. "You alright?" Carl: "Guess so." ***Carl scratches a bit by the wrist, tries to maneuver a bit. DM-R: The man standing in the aisle bumps the man in the business suit into you. ***Bernard shifts in his seat, idly taps a cardboard box clearly labeled TELEPHONE as he watches the crowd. DM-R: Someone in the seat behind you sneezes. DM-R: (male passenger) "Gesundheit." DM-R: (female passenger) "Thanks...?" ***Carl scratches at his right arm. Bernard: "Never much liked busses, y'know? Greyhound ride out here was murder. Heard some kid caught fire on it after I got off." DM-R: The bus stops. Carl: "... really. You know the kid?" Bernard: "Not a clue. Just read about it in the paper." Bernard: "Thought 'huh, I was on that bus. creepy.' and went on with my day." Carl: "Do you remember anything about that bus? That kid's mom actually was asking us for some help. It might be helpful if we could talk tomorrow." ***Carl digs through his briefcase. Carl: "This is my stop coming up, but if you could call this number tomorrow or give me one where I can reach you, it could really come in handy." DM-R: "Carl Barker," "Paralegal," "Merriman & Watt," and the phone number, fax number, and address are printed on the business card. Bernard: "Huh. I was on it for a while, I can probably come up with some answers if you've got specific questions. I'll give you a call. I'm a bit unreachable until I get this thing hooked up." ***Bernard smiles and shakes his box. DM-R: There's a rattle of plastic on cardboard. Carl: "Thanks a lot." Bernard: "No problem. This city's a little weird for new arrivals, any chance to help people out is a welcome change." ***Carl stands up, starts working his way towards the front of the bus so he can exit properly. "Pardon me." DM-R: Carl exits through the standing crowd, and the heavyset businessman lowers himself into the vacated seat; the vinyl squeaks a bit. ***Bernard suffers through the rest of his bus ride home, grabs some food and busies himself hooking up his phone and cleaning his apartment. DM-R: You are pleased to note a dial tone as soon as you hook it up. DM-R: The phone is made of a beige, lightweight plastic, and looks like a boxy slug, or a streamlined loaf of bread. DM-R: As you're cleaning, Mrs. Lai pokes her head through the door. "Ah, Bernar. You ask for phone today?" Bernard: "Yeah. I'm all set now." DM-R: (Mrs. Lai) "Okay. Pacific Bell man call me, ask if you are tenant. Okay, I let you clean. You need cleaning supply, go downstair to grocery. My sister owns there." Bernard: "Okay. Thanks again." DM-R: She nods and heads off. ***Bernard gives the fire department a call. DM-R: (Craig) "Los Angeles Fire Department, is this an emergency?" Bernard: "Nope. This is Bernard, I was in earlier applying for a job, figured I'd leave you a phone number now that I've got one." DM-R: (Craig) "Oh hey! Bernard, great! Lemme grab a pen... Okay, shoot." Bernard: "310 555 *mumble mumble*" DM-R: (Craig) "Got it. Thanks, Bernard. We'll give you a call as soon as the background check goes through." Bernard: "Sounds good to me. Be seeing you." DM-R: (Craig) "Righto." ***Bernard tidies the apartment up a bit more before going to sleep. --- Meanwhile --- ***Carl arrives back at his apartment. DM-R: The itching has lessened in degree, but the fingers of your right hand, especially your thumb and forefinger, have begun to tingle. ***Carl is going to eye that and put some Neosporin and some aloe on it, just in case. ***Carl prepares and eats a simple dinner, then fires up his electric typewriter to prepare his notes from the day. ***Carl goes back to his book for a bit until going to bed fairly early. "I need to hand off that memo to the junior partner tomorrow morning..." DM-R: The aloe soothes the skin to a mild tingle, allowing you to get to sleep. DM-R: You sleep restlessly, as you feel uncomfortably hot, and bright flashes of light dominate your dreams. ***Carl wakes in cold sweats. DM-R: You wake in the middle of the night, feeling a bit feverish. You notice that you've kicked off the blanket. ***Carl takes his temperature. DM-R: Your temperature is fine. ***Carl drinks some ice water and gets back to bed. "I don't really want to have to call in sick tomorrow if I can help it." DM-R: You settle quickly back into sleep. Your dreams are strange but unalarming... DM-R: ... until the bright flashes of light again interrupt your surreal dreamscapes, joined by a frantic siren! ***Carl snaps awake... DM-R: You realize it's your alarm. ***Carl mumbles, gets out of bed, crosses room, shuts off alarm. DM-R: It's still dark in the apartment, but for a weird glow. DM-R: That's odd... you didn't have any lights on, and the blinds are drawn... You look down... DM-R: Patches of your right hand are phosphorescing! ***Carl slaps himself in the face with his left hand to attempt to wake up. DM-R: Ow! DM-R: The glowing skin on your right hand flares brightly during the impact, then begins to subside, and, as you watch, it fades back to your normal skin tone. ***Carl checks the temperature of those bits of his hand. DM-R: It feels the same as the rest, kind of cool and clammy right now. DM-R: You might even believe you imagined it, but for the stinging sensation in your cheek. Carl: "Man, I hope immolation isn't catching." Carl: "Right. Coffee." Carl: "Also, light gloves for the commute, just in case." ***Carl intends to get to the office at 9:30 today so as to catch Dale before his client meetings at 10. ***Carl drinks his coffee, dons gloves, and walks briskly to the bus stop. DM-R: Your bus carries you to the stop nearest your office at 9:15. ***Carl heads in, peels off the gloves, and starts brewing a fresh pot of coffee, as it's his turn. DM-R: Your hands look normal, and haven't been tingling or itching. DM-R: Dale walks into the breakroom. DM-R: (Dale) "Morning, Carl. Any word on the exploding guy?" Carl: "Quite a few. You'll need this." I hand him a cup. DM-R: He looks at the cup. DM-R: (Dale) "Alrighty... Spill." Carl: "The full memo's back at my desk, but something happened. The kid's actually burned, it's well within what standard health insurance should cover, and I suspect but can't exactly prove that the 'spontaneous combustion' angle wasn't theirs." DM-R: (Dale) "Huh. Okay." Carl: "Either this is all a big misunderstanding or their insurer deserves a major class-action. My money's on big misunderstanding, in which case if someone needs some pro bono hours it would be an easy afternoon Doing Good." DM-R: (Dale) "Okay, so it's not a prank, at least." Carl: "Yeah. The kid'll be OK; he 'only' had second-degree burns, so he's looking at emergency room, ICU, and some painkillers. In the absolute worst case scenario, the hospital's likely to lose more than him or his mom." DM-R: Dale hesitates. DM-R: (Dale) "... Any idea what caused it? What'd the doctor say?" Carl: "Well, for us, it's immaterial as to getting the insurers to cough up, of course..." DM-R: (Dale) "Oh, of course. I'm just curious." Carl: "The Doctor was really uncomfortable about it, and wasn't really sure. So that means we can rule out electrical fires or setting off a lighter in his sleep, because he does know what those would look like." DM-R: (Dale) "Hunh." Carl: "He said it was like someone burned God's own candle flame inches from his chest." DM-R: (Dale) "He said that? 'God's own candle?'" Carl: "No, he said it was a grease fire, but without the grease, and it looked like a giant candle flame did it." DM-R: (Dale) "Hunh." He seems to be saying that a lot lately. "You ever watch X-files, Carl?" Carl: "One or two episodes; can't say it grabbed me." Carl: "Their FBI is both too good and too lame to work for my suspesion of disbelief... You aren't suggesting alien ray guns?" DM-R: (Dale) "Heh... Yeah, well, you should see some of the law shows. Okay. Well, get me that brief, and I'll see what we're going to do about this." Carl: "Sure thing. Oh yeah, one other bit." DM-R: (Dale) "Hm?" Carl: "A guy on the bus home last night was actually on the bus the kid was on before he ignited. I gave him my number, going to see if he can make a statement of some kind about anything odd he might have seen." DM-R: (Dale) "Small world. Did he witness it?" Carl: "No; he left just before. But if something was wrong with the bus, he might have noticed." DM-R: (Dale) "Alright." He gestures with his cup. Carl: "Talk to you later. The memo should be on your desk in five." DM-R: Dale walks back to his desk. ***Carl goes back to his desk to fetch the memo, and hands it to Dale. DM-R: He's already on the phone, and accepts it with a thumbs up. DM-R: The phone rings as you reach your desk. Carl: "Merriman and Watt, Barker speaking." Bernard: "Morning. This is Carl Barker? My name is Bernard Eckleston, we met on the bus yesterday, and you asked me to give you a call." Carl: "Aha, yes." *** The sound of paper shuffling is audible over the phone *** ***Carl gets a separate notepad out and checks outside his cube to make sure he doesn't have eavesdroppers. DM-R: The coast is clear. Carl: "I can't go into any great detail, but I've been asked to look into some issues surrounding the incident you were near, and I was hoping you could give me some pointers. In particular, I'm wondering how you heard of the incident to begin with." Bernard: "Some ridiculously exaggerated story in a tabloid." Carl: "Interesting that they managed to get the bus information correct enough to report it at all. Did you actually see the kid asleep on the bus?" Bernard: "Probably. There were a bunch of people asleep. Long bus ride, y'know?" Carl: "Do you recall which bus exactly you were on for the trip to LA?" Bernard: "Number 2271, I think." Carl: "All right, I think that's all I can ask for. Thanks a lot for your time, Mr. Eckleston." Bernard: "Sure thing. Feel free to give me a call if you come up with any more questions. My number is..." Carl: "Got it, thanks." TO BE CONTINUED...