As promised, here is the first installment of a short story which will touch briefly on the problem of evil. I hope you enjoy it.
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They always stuck the junior reporters on the late night shift. And since I was a journalism student and here on an internship, I was the lowest guy at Fox 5, lower than whale dung on the ocean floor. It was 3 AM and my eyes were at half mast. Too sleepy to resist any longer, I felt my chin come to rest on my chest.
The crackle of the police scanner jerked me awake only this time it was not a police call. It was a call for the fire department. A building was burning and an additional unit was being called in to help out.
"Lance," came the call through the boss' office doorway. "Did you hear that fire call?"
"I'm on it," I answered. "Where is Bill?" I scanned the newsroom for the camera-man on duty.
"Bill is in the cafeteria," the feminine voice came from behind me. It was Rachel Hendry. "But if you want quality shots, I suggest you take me instead."
"Bill was assigned to me tonight," I said. "And this isn't even your shift. What are you doing here?"
"Look, by the time you find him and get out there, the fire will be out." She raised her camera to eye-level. "But I am ready to go right now."
I shifted my weight and thought about it for a moment. She had a point. Bill was supposed to be in the cafe, but he was unpredictable. No telling where he actually was.
"And I'm better than him," her left eyebrow raised. "You know I am. Now let's get moving while there is still a story."
I sighed and spun toward the door leading to the parking garage. "Let's roll." I grabbed a microphone on the way out and headed for the news van with Rachel close behind, her equipment bag slung over her shoulder.
We trotted to the van and I reached for the door handle. The door began to open when Rachel's hand grabbed mine.
"I'm driving," she said.
I wanted to put her in her place. I was the reporter here, and as such, I was in charge...sort of. But there was not time to argue the point. I ran to the passenger side and plopped down, buckling my seat belt as the engine cranked up.
"Get us there safely, but be quick about it."
She shot me a glance that looked almost resentful as she pulled the transmission into gear and backed out of the parking space.
"140th at Edgecombe," I said as the van rolled out of the garage onto Sixth Avenue. I pulled up the GPS on my phone and began to track our progress.
"How about I just follow this fire truck?" She kicked the accelerator hard.
"Stay back," I said. "It is illegal to follow them." What was she thinking?
"Relax, Traffic-Nazi. I'll get us there."
A knot formed in my gut as she wove through traffic. I grabbed the handle over my door and prayed that we would arrive at the scene with all of our body parts intact.
As we pulled onto 140th Street, I could see the fire from blocks away. It was an apartment building which was obviously still occupied and the blaze rose high in the air. Two engines pumped water and a third was leading us to the scene. My hands began to tremble and I fought to breathe. Smoke was already seeping into the van. It was an inferno.
To Be Continued . . .
The crackle of the police scanner jerked me awake only this time it was not a police call. It was a call for the fire department. A building was burning and an additional unit was being called in to help out.
"Lance," came the call through the boss' office doorway. "Did you hear that fire call?"
"I'm on it," I answered. "Where is Bill?" I scanned the newsroom for the camera-man on duty.
"Bill is in the cafeteria," the feminine voice came from behind me. It was Rachel Hendry. "But if you want quality shots, I suggest you take me instead."
"Bill was assigned to me tonight," I said. "And this isn't even your shift. What are you doing here?"
"Look, by the time you find him and get out there, the fire will be out." She raised her camera to eye-level. "But I am ready to go right now."
I shifted my weight and thought about it for a moment. She had a point. Bill was supposed to be in the cafe, but he was unpredictable. No telling where he actually was.
"And I'm better than him," her left eyebrow raised. "You know I am. Now let's get moving while there is still a story."
I sighed and spun toward the door leading to the parking garage. "Let's roll." I grabbed a microphone on the way out and headed for the news van with Rachel close behind, her equipment bag slung over her shoulder.
We trotted to the van and I reached for the door handle. The door began to open when Rachel's hand grabbed mine.
"I'm driving," she said.
I wanted to put her in her place. I was the reporter here, and as such, I was in charge...sort of. But there was not time to argue the point. I ran to the passenger side and plopped down, buckling my seat belt as the engine cranked up.
"Get us there safely, but be quick about it."
She shot me a glance that looked almost resentful as she pulled the transmission into gear and backed out of the parking space.
"140th at Edgecombe," I said as the van rolled out of the garage onto Sixth Avenue. I pulled up the GPS on my phone and began to track our progress.
"How about I just follow this fire truck?" She kicked the accelerator hard.
"Stay back," I said. "It is illegal to follow them." What was she thinking?
"Relax, Traffic-Nazi. I'll get us there."
A knot formed in my gut as she wove through traffic. I grabbed the handle over my door and prayed that we would arrive at the scene with all of our body parts intact.
As we pulled onto 140th Street, I could see the fire from blocks away. It was an apartment building which was obviously still occupied and the blaze rose high in the air. Two engines pumped water and a third was leading us to the scene. My hands began to tremble and I fought to breathe. Smoke was already seeping into the van. It was an inferno.
To Be Continued . . .