7:21 pm | March 30, 2008

It's just so pretty, Darryl thought idly to himself. The light that flooded the streets in this golden hour was a warm honeyed red. It painted the older buildings the rich color of blood, and it gave the newer structures a sense of shared history that they lacked in the harsh daylight of noon. Everything was beautiful. Gang graffiti became priceless works of art; broken and unsteady front porches became the gates to heaven; the few wanderers on the street tonight became angels. Everything is just so perfect, the detective thought. He smiled, and in the light he looked fifteen years younger.

There were some days when Darryl Jeryck thought that New Orleans was going to hell. Other days, he thought it was a little piece of heavan. Fortunately, most days he knew that he was standing on good, solid Earth. This was a place of beauty and despair, of love and decay, and it had been cobbled together out of human necessity. Somehow, it had become more than a place to stay, and it had transformed itself into a place where a man could be proud to live and die.

There was an indistinct ringing from his belt, and he gingerly took the cell phone from its little patent-leather holster. It was a gift from his daughter, and she was the only person who ever called him on it. He flipped it open, and the years fell back into the lines of his face.

"Hey, sweetie," he said, and resumed his walk.

"Hey, Daddy." Lucille sounded a bit distant, worried. "Daddy, have you heard about anything weird going on?"

Darryl frowned a little. Lucille seemed to be on edge, as if her normally bubbly self had been cut away.

"No, honey. Like what? Nothing crazy or anything, is it?"

She hesitated. Later on, Darryl would understand the hesitation. He would curse himself in the days and weeks to come for what he'd said. He would spend sleepless nights trying to imagine what would have happened if he'd just asked what she meant, instead of making her doubt herself. Lucille's voice piped up, a forced measure of her old cheerfulness returning.

"Oh, I don't know, Daddy. Something I saw on a couple blogs. It's probably, you know, just an urban legend." She laughed. "I mean, I think people have been watching too many movies."

Darryl relaxed slightly, and sighed. He tried not to sound irritated, but it probably came through in his voice. "Honey, did you really call me to ask me if some movie monster is running around? Because I think the Skunk Ape is stuck in Florida and the chupacabra hasn't been returning my calls..."

Lucille giggled a little, but it trailed off far too quickly. "No, Daddy..." She sighed, then spoke up again, her voice soft. "I love you."

Darryl blinked, surprised. "I love you too, honey. Are you going to come by for a visit this weekend?"

Another long hesitation. It would be the last time Darryl heard her breathe, heard her speak, heard her laugh. It was Lucille Jeryck's last night, and she spent it on the phone with her dad.

"I might. I'll try to come by, you know, if I can. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

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7:23 pm | April 1st, 2008

"You can get some sleep if you want," Bethany said softly, touching Darryl's arm. "I can keep an eye out until the next watch."

Darryl shrugged her off, staring out into the streets below. There was a dense fog coming off the water, but the small fires here and there were clearly visible. There were screams in the distance. A single dog was barking close by, but it yelped and then went silent. After a moment, he shook his head.

"I'll be fine. Most of them headed over to the hospitals. They should be... they should be occupied there for a while." Bethany bit her lower lip, then turned and nodded, her gaze riveted to the smoky gray evening sky.

"Don't be shy about raising an alarm, alright?" she asked, and he nodded. After a moment of tense silence, Bethany folded her arms over her midsection and took a step back, before turning and striding over to the makeshift campsite.

Darryl let out a long breath, taking the cell phone out of its little patent-leather holster.

Lucille gave me this, he thought. He stared at it, hefted it in his hand. He made to throw it, but closed his fingers around it at the last second. The detective clutched it to his chest- just another piece of useless technology, one more thing that people couldn't survive with and yet wouldn't live without. He held it for a moment longer, then slid it back into the holster at his belt.