The Law of Averages

There was smoke drifting across the horizon, rising high above the Austin skyline. Thick, black, and heavy, it cast a shadow across the city where it intercepted the sun. Dan stared at it with gnawing unease, feeling exposed in the wide open space of the Arboretum. The scene was miles away from him, but fire had yet to make a positive appearance in his life.

He checked over his surroundings, eyes lingering on the citizens walking aimlessly past. They browsed the various shops without a care in the world. When the clouds had first appeared, most had checked their phones with practiced motions. The city's emergency broadcast system was quite effective at disseminating information in a crisis. It was a reliable system, tested dozens of times over the years. No texts nor alerts had been forthcoming, and the fire had therefore been dismissed by the populace at large. No further actions had been needed from them, so they had gone about their day.

Dan was less fortunate. His phone buzzed and he checked it, finding the expected message. An address from Professor Tawny, and a time. Fifteen minutes from now. Dan sighed, looking around one last time. The crowd at the mall had been quietly growing over the past few hours, as the afternoon transitioned into the evening. Though he hadn't had any more real interactions with the people around him, he had enjoyed simply walking around in public once more. It was a pleasant reminder that not everything in this world revolved around mysterious conspiracies and twisted super-science.

Not that Dan expected that sentiment to hold true for all that long.

With one last nod to his surroundings, Dan turned on his heel, and vanished. He reappeared in his empty bedroom, near the foot of his bed. He kept a small chest there, a hand-carved block of wood, worn from the years, that he'd picked up from a local consignment store. Inside, he kept his 'Go Bag' and tool kit.

The bag was a simple duffel that could be slung across his back. He had packed it as part of his Academy class, an activity designed to outline the importance of preparation to their trade. Tawny himself had approved its contents. It was, in essence, Dan's very own Batman utility belt. Or rather, utility bag. He quickly pulled it open and catalogued the contents.

It was as if a particularly conscientious serial killer had packed himself a travel kit. Bandages and gauze, a fire blanket, several bottles of over-the-counter painkillers, quikclot, disinfectant, all standard things for an emergency kit. Then there was the duct tape and rope, the handsaw, pliers, wrenches and screwdrivers of various sizes, and the bottle of vodka (for luck). Less than standard, at least in his opinion. Dan felt awkward just carrying the bag around in public, but his trainee license should neatly excuse the contents to any curious cops. It was better to be prepared.

There was also a compass, which was nice and innocuous.

Dan's phone buzzed once more. Another text from Tawny, with a picture attached this time. He couldn't help but grimace at it; an open parking lot filled with emergency vehicles. Behind them, cloying black smoke wrapped around a series of apartment buildings before ascending skyward. The ground had a large, boxed in X painted on it; it was rather obvious where he was meant to appear. Curiously, Dan couldn't spot even a hint of orange in the photo. Where was the fire?

But he could think about that later. For now, he had a location to report to. He enlarged the photo, staring at it, willing himself to be—

Hot! His surroundings were sweltering, like an open air sauna. Dan gagged at the sudden change, swishing his hand in front of his face, futilely attempting to find fresh air. The noise of dozens of people moving and talking surrounded him, and he peered about with squinting eyes, as he adjusted to this new environment.

He was standing inside the demarcated box. Around him, a fledgling emergency center was being put into place. A large tent had been erected, with many more to follow. Dan recognized the standard procedures from Marcus' simulated training, though the scale was much smaller. Rather than several city blocks being destroyed, it seemed that it was an old apartment complex engulfed in ash. Even up close, Dan could spot no signs of fire. There seemed to be a bayou in the distance, and Dan noted several houses within spitting distance of the smoke. It seemed to be a suburban area, though not one he was familiar with.

"Please exit the teleportation zone," a voice interrupted Dan's pondering. It was a security guard; a rather hefty fellow, sweating profusely, and looking like he was more stressed than he'd ever been before.

Dan complied with the order, quickly stepping out of the square. He dug through his duffel bag, fishing out the laminated ID that Tawny had given him just days ago. It was a temporary pass, certifying Dan for field work in disaster relief when partnered with an accredited supervisor. Dan presented it to the security guard, who blinked sweat out of his eyes as he examined the cramped text.

"A-ah." The portly guard scratched at his chin. "Says here yer supervisor is Tawny? Yeah, yeah, I think I remember him. He was..." He glanced behind himself, his hand pointing vaguely in the distance. "Thatta' way."

"Thanks," Dan acknowledged, quickly strolling past and away. He hefted his duffel, securing it more comfortably across his back as he trudged towards the den of frantic activity. There were half a dozen ambulances arrayed across the parking lot, and Dan could see the familiar form of his professor lingering near the rear of one. He was dressed in his police uniform, his own Go Bag slung across his waist, and quietly conversing with a paramedic. He noticed Dan arriving, waving a hand to flag him down.

"Daniel," he greeted. "I'm glad you made it so quickly."

"Yeah." Any thought of a flippant reply died in Dan's throat upon seeing what lay past the ambulance. Another tent was being set up, stakes hammered into the ground with haste by a crew in orange vests. Multiple occupied stretchers lay off to the side, with men in white coats tending to the occupants. Their backs were to him, and the victims bodies were covered, so Dan couldn't make out any details.

Other than a great deal of red.

Tawny followed his gaze. "It's a real mess out here."

"What the hell happened, sir?" Dan queried.

A shrug. Tawny gestured to the paramedic. "We were just discussing that. This is Tom Ritlin, by the way." The paramedic nodded grimly. "He'll be briefing you on environmental hazards. Normally we'd wait until there's more of a crowd, but I'm not sure we can afford the time."

The dog-eared officer dug through his satchel and produced a folded up map. "The markers are being put in place already, but this should help orient you."

Dan could see tall signs being wheeled in by volunteers, each with area designations emblazoned on them. It was a simple grid organization, using letters and numbers to direct people where they were needed. The map, already separated into grids, combined with his compass, would help Dan keep track of things.

"Oh and I'm pairing you with Hector." Tawny glanced around with frustration. "Hell's bells, where'd he go? Hector!" The last command was growled into his radio. "Return to Ambo 3!"

There was an odd grinding sound, and an officer staggered into existence, looking for all the world like he'd just run a marathon. Black hair and dark skin contrasted with manic blue eyes as the newcomer quickly glanced around himself. His gaze settled on Dan.

"The newbie? Good. Get briefed, get your kit, then meet me at B4. Don't forget a walkie." The short sentences were belted out with the speed of a professional rapper. The man vanished with another screech of displaced material, and Dan noticed a skid mark on the concrete where he'd left.

Tawny shook his head. "Get used to that. But he's right, Daniel. Tom'll brief you, then get going." He turned away in a clear sign of dismissal, then paused. "Your other classmates are busing in with the rest of the Academy volunteers." With that final addition, he strolled purposefully towards the newly set-up medical tents.

Dan watched his grim stride for a few moments, before turning expectantly to Tom.

"Right," the paramedic said, running a hand through his dark hair, "here's the situation. Approximately fifteen minutes ago, the fire department was called in to deal with a small conflagration on the third floor. The apartment manager called it in, and claimed that the apartment where the fire originated was unoccupied. So he figures its a squatter who left the oven on or something. Problem is, when our guys hosed it from the outside," Tom pointed towards the side of the building facing him, "the damn thing started belching out all this black smoke. Near as we can tell, its some sort of chemical reaction. The fire is basically smothered, but that smoke is hot. Hot enough to cook you if you're in it for too long. So don't go in it."

Dan nodded.

"Now we can't figure out the cause of all the smoke quite yet, but that's not our job," Tom continued. "Our job is to make sure those apartments are emptied, and the civilians given adequate care. You'll most likely be shuttling emergency supplies—"

Cries of alarm cut Tom off. His eyes widened, and Dan followed his gaze. The apartment complex swayed slightly, back and forth. He could see uniformed officers and firemen sprinting from within, towards the safety of the tents. Then, with a shuddering groan, the entire complex collapsed.

"Fuck!" Tom yelled

"Fuck," Dan echoed.