Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

"... A nd that is why you always need an EMP in your pocket." Chet smirked like he'd achieved a mic drop moment. He crossed his arms, leaned back in his seat, and waited for the other two BroFO dingdongs to praise him.

I pressed my face into my elbow and suppressed a yawn. Maybe it was because it was Wednesday—day three of recording—or maybe it was lack of sleep or hormones, but I felt ready to snap and nap at the same time.

Picking up on his arrogant ringleader's cue, Tyler slowly nodded. "It's the perfect defense for when the Tentaculoids zap your ass with their anti-grav rays."

Every sentence that came out of their mouths sounded like verbal diarrhea, but over the years I'd developed a feces-repellent auditory filter that numbed me to it. At first, I'd tried to convince them that UFBros would be a better name for their podcast than BroFO, since it would make it clear that their preferred subject matter was extraterrestrials and not a suggestion to screw off. Like they did with most of my advice, they'd ignored me.

A decade ago, before applying for their producer position, I'd deeply researched the culture of supernatural believers and the media the community consumed. There were conspiracy focused groups who thought everything and everyone was out to get them, that the purpose of all media and academia was to hide cosmic truths. Then there were the hopeful types who looked at the stars as a window to magical realms filled with all-powerful benevolent beings.

My research left me completely unprepared for the BroFOs and the future headaches they would subject me to.

Instead of following the typical lore, the BroFOs made up their own species of extraterrestrials, like the Tentaculoids, who based on their name should have had tentacles. They didn't.

I should have quit my first week. I hadn't.

Despite all reason, the BroFO podcast exploded in popularity. After their lackluster beginnings, the BroFOs knew a large part of their success was because of my editing and marketing chops. And we all knew how rare it was to make so much money in this business. So, no matter how difficult they found my logic, and I found their nonsense, we tolerated each other.

"Damn straight, bro. You'd just whip that EMP out and fry any cyborg probe drones coming for your ass." Tyler mimed pulling an invisible grenade pin with his teeth, as if explosives and EMPs were somehow connected.

They weren't. Also, cyborgs were artificially enhanced humans, not drones.

Nick's nasal laugh cut through the room. "No one's coming for your ass."

"I'm ready if they try," Tyler said.

Uh oh. He was ready? Please don't let him be talking about the Faraday cage again.

"You didn't," Chet said.

"Yes, I did." Tyler shot up from his seat, knocking his chair back. He reached for his belt and started unbuckling his pants.

"Stop before you pile on any more HR violations today," I said.

Ignoring me, Tyler pulled down his pants.

Nick and Chet erupted in a fit of laughter.

I wanted to avert my gaze. I wanted to look anywhere but at Tyler's…big reveal. But his chainmail underpants captured all the light in the room and reflected it back in a stunning display that could not be avoided or unseen.

"Put away your disco balls," I said. "Please. This is a professional setting."

Tyler cracked a smile and put his hands on his hips in a superhero-esque pose. Nick and Chet laughed louder.

"It's a chastity belt," Nick said between red-faced breaths.

"You're jealous of my Faraday briefs, as you should be," Tyler said. "No electronic waves will penetrate my disco balls. You won't be laughing when you're sterile and I'm still teeming with invincible swimmers."

Chet flicked his gaze to me. He was a gorilla in size, a neanderthal in brow. Usually he didn't acknowledge me at all during recordings, but today it was like he wanted me to catch him looking, like he wanted me to read something in his eyes. I didn't know why, and I didn't really care what his reasoning was.

"Speaking of alien encounters…" Chet swiped the condensation off his Red Bull can. "You guys hear about those two Dogwoodians who went missing last week? Hikers just...poof...vanished from the park trail without a trace."

"No way, really?" Nick leaned forward. "You think...aliens were involved, bro?"

"Has to be," Tyler said.

Chet shook his head, and again pointed his gaze at me. "I'm telling you, this is exactly how it starts. First it's just a few isolated cases that everyone tries to explain away rationally. Then before you know it, full-scale invasion. Planets get hollowed out to build biomass nurseries. Humans are dragged away in chains to become living food vats…."

"What?" Nick shuddered. "Why did you have to put that image in my mind?"

"And you know those Tentaculoids are always thirsty for fresh meat," Tyler said. "For their anal-probing."

Instead of rolling my eyes, I circled my fingers in a signal to wrap it up.

"You volunteering, Daisy?" Chet smirked at me. "Y'all BroFO fam know our skeptic producer, Daisy, right? She wants us to wrap up, but we're just getting into the good part."

"I still want to talk about alien babe pick-up strategies," Nick said.

Tyler added, "The Uranus Experiencer routine always slays."

Gross. Hot alien pick-up strategy…for a world-ending invasion. And it always came back to the butts, because these guys were forty-five going on twelve.

"That's a wrap," I said. "Tyler, pull up your pants. And all of you, get out of my studio so I can properly decontaminate."

I expected Chet to hang back to outright say whatever it was he wanted to say to me. But, he didn't. All three stooges shuffled out with minimal protesting.

I made a mental note to check into what Chet had said about missing people. Then I scrubbed everything down before heading home.

It was a usual crazy evening. I got the girls ready for bed, then grabbed my book, and looked up the missing people story on my phone as I headed out to my reading spot out back.

It wasn't just two people who had gone missing while hiking. Another two couples had disappeared from their homes since. Six people was like three percent of Dogwood's population, which was way too big of a number for my liking. People could get lost hiking. They generally didn't up and disappear from their beds.

Before even thinking about reading, I went back inside and checked the windows and locks on the front door. In the morning I would have another talk with the girls about stranger danger.

On my way out back, I could feel a presence in the dark. Given my now-nervous state of mind, I should have been worried, but I wasn't. I knew this presence. I could feel that it was Hugo, waiting right on the other side of the fence for me.

Feeling both a new sense of calm and a familiar thrill, I crossed the yard and settled into my reading chair. "Hey, neighbor."

"Hi, Daisy."

Okay, even though his presence made me all warm and gooey, I still found myself wondering if I should be sitting by the front door with a wrench to protect the girls.

Maybe it was crossing a line to ask, like he could get in trouble or something, but I had to know. "In your professional capacity, have you heard anything about the disappearances?"

"I've heard about them. But there were no fires involved," he said. "That's about as far as my professional expertise goes."

"So there's not some professional life-saver intel-sharing secret network?" I was spending too much time with paranoid idiots. Now I sounded like a paranoid idiot.

He chuckled, deep and delicious. I felt heat rise up my cheeks, which was fine in the dark where no one could see how shamelessly my body reacted to him.

"If there is a network like that, I must not have saved enough lives to be let in," he said.

"How many lives have you saved?" I asked.

"Since moving to Dogwood? Possibly one cat. Though if he could get himself up that tree, he could safely get himself down, so that probably shouldn't count."

"It could. Maybe that cat had an inner ear infection and the vertigo would have made him lose his balance. Maybe he wouldn't have landed on his feet. Maybe you saved him from a gruesome fate."

Hugo made an mmm sound or a hmm sound, either way it seemed like an amused consideration, and it, too, made my lady bits vibrate like his lips were on my skin. It should be unlawful to be this excited about a conversation with a man, a man who was living with his significant other, a man who was completely off limits.

Plus I was off limits. I didn't date. My life was too busy and too full to consider giving my time to someone else.

Except for these late-night chats.

I should go inside, call it a night, and get some sleep. But curiosity beat out should . Hugo had probably saved tons of lives, and I had to know the details. "One cat saved in Dogwood so far. What about before Dogwood?"

"After the first few years, I stopped keeping track."

"Too many cat lives to count."

"More people than cats in Piccadilly. Also dogs, hamsters, turtles, and one particularly foul-mouthed parrot."

There was a lot to unpack there, from his change in tone to his list of animals, to the familiar city he mentioned. It made my brain buzz with even more excitement. I asked, "Piccadilly, Pennsylvania?"

"That's the one."

It was a little crazy that I knew his favorite game as a kid was Twister from our chats, or that his least favorite food was anything soaked in vinegar, yet I hadn't asked where he used to live.

I said, "One of my best friends lives in Piccadilly."

"It's a great city."

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see. "Why'd you leave?"

"There was…a situation we needed to get out of."

We— Hugo and his girlfriend or wife. What kind of situation had they gotten into? And more importantly, why was I still sneaking out here to talk to him? He was already involved. And I was not interested in getting involved.

"Plus, I'm getting too old to run into burning buildings all the time," he said. "The chief position here is a better fit for where I am in my life."

"You don't look too old for anything to me."

"That flattery will get you everywhere, Daisy."

And there went my ovaries, exploding into fireworks again.

"What about you?" Hugo asked.

"Oh, I was born too old to run into burning buildings. Or maybe too cowardly."

"You don't seem too cowardly for anything to me."

Swoon.

He continued, "But I meant are you a native or an implant like me?"

"Born and raised Dogwoodian," I said. "My parents moved into a retirement community in Florida, but I stayed. My brother used to live next door, in your house."

"Was that closeness positive?"

"Most of the time. Davey seemed pretty miserable in his marriage, which made things strained. But we got to spend a lot of time together for a few years there, which was nice."

"Eventually he moved, or it would be him here talking to you instead of me."

"Oh no, this time is…uniquely ours." I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. "And Davey seems happier now. He went missing, then he showed up in this little town called Marshmallow, and he's…different."

"Happier is good," Hugo said. "But I'm sensing reservations."

"They were weird about the whole thing. I still don't know why Davey left. He got struck by lightning, lost his memory, and turned into a different person."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, it should be. But that's why he's happier now. It saved his marriage, too. I'm happy for him that everything's worked out…but I feel like they're hiding parts of what happened. Worse, I feel like I lost my brother."

Hugo made a sound again, this one a mmm. It didn't sound amused the way the last had. It sounded empathetic.

"But I have my girls, and my work keeps me busy, so my life is super full." Hearing the words out loud made them sound hollow, like I was trying to convince myself.

"Your girls are great."

It made my heart swell that he thought so. "Best in the world."

"Mama?" a soft yet tight voice said from the direction of the house.

That voice belonged to Ivy.

"Ivy?" I shot up from my seat and turned to find her standing on the patio with her hands wringing together and her pouty lip completely out. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

I rushed over and knelt down to put us on eye level. I held her hands softly and waited for her to reply.

"First, Jingles fell in," she said, her eyes glossing over, "but I didn't know."

Jingles was her stuffed rabbit.

I asked, "Fell in what?"

"I brought her because it's scary in the hall at night. It's dark."

The night light in the hall was so bright I had to wear a mask to get any sleep at all.

"And monsters live in the dark and Jingles protects me," she said. "But she fell in and I didn't know. I flushed, Mama."

"Your doll fell in the toilet?"

Tears burst from her eyes. "And she's stuck and the water is everywhere. And I called for you and you weren't there."

"It's okay. I'm right here," I told her, as I tried to process the disaster I was about to step into. "Everything is going to be all right."

I reminded myself that children brought love and joy into my life. It wasn't all disasters and overflowing toilets.