New Beginnings, Episode 6, Part 4
People always talk about where they were when they first heard about The Correspondent. She came out of nowhere and tried to make a difference. Some saw her as a beacon of hope, others as a sign of how far down the slope we had come. I never paid attention to all of that. I was too busy. Too busy working to pay my bills, too busy trying to figure out life. I was seventeen when it started. I was The Correspondent. This is my story.
The rest of the night was spent going to all of the places I had fought someone. I cruised by the mall, the storefront where Shelby had been mutated was still boarded up. Thinking of Shelby wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. He was my first love and my second villain. He was clearly insane, and probably dead.
I had avoided the spot of my crash since it happened. That chase had been the culmination of so many bad decisions, the feeling of invincibility that came with having never been hurt before. Just driving by the crash site made my leg ache. It was well past midnight by the time I headed home. Nothing had been accomplished, I still didn’t have a plan and I was exhausted. Things would look better in the morning.
Waking up was hard. I hadn’t stayed out all night in a long time and my body was not happy. It was almost noon by the time I made it to the kitchen for breakfast. My mom was no where to be found, there was a note on the fridge, “Ellie, eat something, I am at work. Love, Mom”. I grabbed cereal and milk, taking my breakfast into the living room.
I thought about turning on the TV but realized I didn’t care. As I ate I formulated a plan. I needed to find out what The Rat was up to, and the only person who would be able to help me was Mendez. But he was not a fan of me being a hero, because that was his job. He didn’t want some costumed vigilante running amok in his town.
I totally understood that, but I couldn’t stop. The Rat had ruined my life and I needed to stop him. Just remembering the day my dad was shot was enough to harden my resolve. I got dressed quickly, pulling my hair up into a ponytail, and headed to my bike. The ride to the police station was exhilarating. Despite my black mood, I was smiling when I parked.
I left my helmet sitting on the handlebar and headed inside. Clearly there had been some money in the budget for a remodel, because the interior looked completely different. The waiting area was almost pleasant but the smell of stale coffee and donuts still filled the air. The desk sergeant wasn’t someone I knew, but I pasted a smile on my face and approached as if I knew what I was doing.
“Can I help you?” he said, barely looking up.
“Yes,” I said, “I am hear to speak with Detective Mendez.”
“Mendez? I’ll see if he is in,” he picked up the phone and dialed an extension.
I heard someone pick up, the gruff voice I knew right away. He was in the building. My stomach dropped when I realized what I was going to be asking him. I told myself to be cool. It wasn’t working. The desk sergeant hung up, the sound of the reciever hitting the cradle snapping me out of my worry.
“He’ll be right up.”
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Dylan Reed has always been interested in a good story. Raised without a TV he spent a lot of time with books and loves reading. Dylan has been a professional entertainer, studied commercial diving, and loves random trivia. He brings all of this and more together in his stories.