In effect, Nathan, nor Doctor Hart, had exactly expected that the 
residue would react so violently to the chemicals found in a field 
testing kit. Neither did they really expect that it would cause a 
sudden shift in reality, displacing everyone in the van approximately 
sixteen feet to their immediate left. This left them rolling and 
careening, at forty miles per hour, across the grassy side of the 
road, just off the edge of the asphalt. A few of the instruments they 
had been holding were dropped alongside the road as well, and the 
van swerved and slowed, driving just off the side of East Lake road. 
It came to a stop in the median between the two sides of the road, 
with its crew across the way from it, staring back at it. Doctor Hart 
was one of the first to pipe up about it. 


"Well, we're lucky that it only sent us sideways, not down." 


Nathan's head was still swimming after the sudden impact, but 
everyone else was rising. Most of them had experienced worse in 
their time in the Mobile Task Force designated Green Thumbs, and, 
most hadn't been leaning over the foldable stand in the center of the 
van's seating area, which would have caused a near headfirst 
impact as Atkinson had experienced. There was a hand offered to 
him, but he didn't realize it for another few seconds, gripping it 
shakily. 


"What... was that? What are we even dealing with here? It's..." 


"—been one Hell of a day," Hart stepped in, nodding at one of the 
task force members. They made their way back across the road to 
collect the van. "And | think that's all we're going to need from you 
for now, Mr. Atkinson." Nathan stood and nodded, trying to get a 
bearing on where he was again. Reaching into his pocket, he 
checked his phone for the time. 5:00 PM. "Well, does that mean 
you'll drive me back around to the building, then?" Nathan asked. 
The van pulled onto their side of the road, and they piled in while 
Hart answered in the affirmative. 


"So, we amnesticize him?" 


"No, no," Hart murmured as he and Jacob trailed behind Nathan as 
he approached his place of work. "Not yet. We may need him yet." 


"Why not just copy his resources, and go? Isn't that usually the 
protocol?" 


Hart rubbed his temples and stopped, motioning for Jacob to look at 
him. He slid his hands into his pockets. "Do you remember the last 
researcher who joined us?" 


Jacob nodded. "Diario, yeah. | remember the guy. He's gone now 
though, yeah? Didn't even find his body?" 


Hart hummed and shrugged. "No, we never found it. | can't operate 
this alone, though, and... the task force as it is lacks in some of the 
knowledge we need to run properly here, without Diario. And | can't 
go running out with the rest of you anymore. I'm growing older, 
Jacob." 


"So, what? You act like you can just shake his hand and tell him 
‘Welcome aboard'." 


"We shoved him into a van and already showed him the shit we do 
on a daily basis. What else would | do now? Look at him. He's been 
more fascinated than scared shitless. Do you remember when you 
were first recruited, Jacob? From the force?" 


Jacob began to meander towards the building. Nathan was long 
inside by now, and Hart followed. "Yes. Yes, | do, but that was 
different." 


"Was it? You couldn't even handle it at first. We almost passed you 
by." 


"Almost." 


Jacob stopped at the front door. "Doc, I'm heading back to the van. 
Don't be long." 


Hart gripped the handle on the door, pulling it open, leaving the 
other with no promise of being quick. 


"Doctor Atkinson?" 


Nathan looked up from his desk, almost having finished packing. 
"Yes? I'm nearly gone, just have a few last things. | assume that | 
shouldn't be telling anyone about what's going on, yeah? Private 
investigation or something?" 


Hart leaned on the edge of Atkinson's desk, his arms crossed 
abreast. "Not exactly. But, no, don't tell anyone. We will have 
enough work suppressing these events as it is. We already had 
another five incidents with those deer reported this evening. Another 
team from Gainesville slid down to take care of it. We're a tad 
sparse on staff in this region." Hart flinched internally. He was, 
again, spilling too much. He couldn't figure exactly why he was 
doing so much for Nathan. He had broken protocol already in 
straight up dumping him in the van and bringing him out, even more 
so to expose information to him, even if vague. What was it? 


"| get you, yeah. Not normal. Why is this happening?" 


"We're working on it. We sent back samples to headquarters, we're 
trying to figure out what it is. We might have seen it before, in Mich 
—" Hart stopped. That was too much for the uninitiated. "Doctor 

Atkinson, are you satisfied with your current position in the world?" 


"I'm hardly a doctor, and that's a mighty strange question to ask. Are 
you asking if I'm happy with my compensation? It's not like | have 
many mouths to feed, so—" 


"No. Are you happy, now that you know that there's more out there?" 


Nathan stopped. He folded his hands and sat at his desk, leaning 
back into the chair. He let off a sigh. "I've seen too much for one 
day. It's still processing for me. It's entirely surreal." 


Hart gave the other a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, it's much the 
same how | reacted when I—" He stopped again. That was it. That 


was why. 


"How interested are you in this case?" Hart began again. Nathan 
shuffled a few more papers as he listened, trying to finish the last of 
his preparations to leave. "Interested?" he inquired, standing. "Very. 
| also understand, though, that it's dangerous. I'm not sure how 
close | want to get to that." 


"It gets worse before it gets better,” Hart intoned. 


Nathan shook his head. "I don't know. What of my current job? My 
coworkers? Are you asking me if | care to join you? For what, even? 
You never answered my question. Who are you?" 


Hart tapped his foot, turning to leave. "I can't tell you that. Not quite 
yet." 


"Are you implying that I'll agree to help you?" 
Hart was already halfway out the office. "Maybe. Maybe." 


As he left, leaving Nathan in the building, he chuckled. The van was 
already running, and the horn honked twice as he made his 
approach. "Just like me, damnit. Just like me," he muttered, albeit 
not unhappily, as he seated himself in the back. 


« Banana Smoothie | Green Thumb Hub | Canola Oil Panic » 


Canola Oil Panic 


Nathaniel Atkinson rang up the green and red nozzle, holstering it in 
the 7-Eleven gas pump, his other hand occupied with a half-eaten 
dragonfruit. The pump offered him a receipt, abruptly, which he 
refused outright with a slap across the keypad. The dragonfruit 
plopped onto his coupe's center console as he shut the door, 
burying his face in his hands for a moment. He could hardly imagine 
facing his co-workers this morning. Hell, his tank was full; the act of 
‘filling up' only bore semblance of a way to pass time rather than go 
into work. He had no contact information for Doctor Hart, who he, 
more than anything, wanted to speak to at that moment. Nathan 
flicked on the radio and sat in place, car still off beside the gas 
pump. His fingers reamed through his hair as he tried to make sense 
of the previous day. 


Nothing about it made sense. It had been a hellish amalgamation of 
the strangest natural incidents he had seen in his career to date, 
and he was eager to experience more. The overwhelming curiosity 
was killing him more than anything in the situation, he realized as he 
finally started the car. It gave a reluctant purr, but started 
nonetheless, turning out of the gas station. He glanced down Tampa 
Road with a consolidating glare. For a moment, he considered 
driving home, taking the day off to think about things. Nathan 
swallowed a spoonful of the damnably bitter fruit. Something about it 
had always piqued his taste buds with the strangest of sensations. 


His phone rang. 

His hand froze, hovering over it. He had reacted far faster than he 
had thought, his eyes stuck to their corners and reading the number. 
It was nothing he recognized, but the unknown wasn't unwelcome. 
‘Accept Call' was pressed and flicked faster than he could bring the 
phone to his ear. 


"__kinson, is this the correct number?" 


Nathan blinked. "Yes, yes it is," he murmured, trancelike, pulling out 
onto Tampa. A car had pulled up behind him some time ago, 
waiting, and he felt their hand hovering on the horn. "Who is this?" 


"Doctor Hart. Drive down to Clearwater. 5380 Tech Data Drive. You 
got that? Park in any of the handicapped spots. Someone will pick 
you up." 


The address was already in his phone's GPS, typed out the moment 
each word left the speaker. "On my way," he breathed, swerving 
across a lane to make a u-turn. He set his phone in a cupholder, 
switching on the GPS function and beginning to make his way down 
to Clearwater. 


He didn't look back once. 


<An hour before.> 

"Hello? Is this the Region 352 office?" 

"Yes, Doctor Hart. How may | help you today?" 
"Get me through to Kate." 


The secretary hummed as she checked the lines. "You're in luck. 
Her line's open. Patching you through." 


The dial tone rang again. Hart tapped his foot impatiently, leaning 
back against the wall of his office. The cord for the phone swayed 
and dangled back to his desk as he waited. 


"Director McTiriss, Region 352." 

Hart breathed out. "Kate, it's Hart." 

"Hart? Shouldn't you be focusing on the outbreak?" 

"Yes, yes. | need to ask you something. It's important. Mostly." 


"Go on," the director breathed. Hart sat back in his chair, gathering 
himself. 


"| dragged a civilian into it. He was useful, so | just grabbed him, 
gave him a gun, and... fuck, | don't know where my head was." 


"And?" 
Hart paused. "And what?" 


The regional director smacked her lips over the line. "I once 
deputized an intern from the Montenegrin Parliament on a whim. 
Handed him a gun, gave him some direction. Local resources can 
be put to use rather well in these situations." 


Hart almost felt taken aback, but he wasn't entirely surprised. He 
plopped his free hand over a stack of papers still to process for the 
new anomalies. "You remember mention of Diario?" 


"Yeah, the one whose body wasn't found? | recall, yes." 


"We need a replacement still. And this one, Atkinson, he's not so 
much as flinched. He's approached this far different than you'd think. 
Like... like..." 


"He's curious. He seems to be interested. He's been helping?" 


"To a degree," Hart admitted. "We dragged him with Green Thumb 
without giving him much direction." 


"So, he didn't freak out under pressure? Hire the guy yesterday." 
Hart chuckled. "You act like it's so easy. It's—" 


"Don't try and complicate it. If he has some credentials, and 
recommendations, he may very well be joining you. From what | can 
hear, this Atkinson has got a word in from me on his case, should 
this opportunity be given." 


The doctor nodded to himself, drumming his fingers on his desk. 
"Then that's all | needed to hear. Ciao." 


Hart hung up the phone without waiting for a reply. He rapidly dialed 
the office's secretary. "Wilma? Find me the number of Nathaniel 
Atkinson. Yes, the one we grabbed yesterday. Get me everything 


you have on him." 


"Mmn. Doctor Atkinson?" 


Nathan looked up as he closed his car door. "I'm hardly a doctor, 
but, yes. That'd be me. Are you the one I'm supposed to meet?" 


Wilma, the secretary for the Clearwater office, offered her hand. 
Nathan shook it, briefly. "Wilma Stern, secretary to Doctor Hart. | 
suppose he wants to see you right away. Just follow me." 


Nathan followed the woman into the building, confining his hands to 
his pockets. At a glance, the building seemed no different from the 
average office complex. On the inside, however... well, he found it 
to still be the average office complex. A tad disappointing, but he 
wasn't sure what else he expected. "Where's everyone else?" he 
asked, as they climbed a set of stairs. 


"Mmn, probably out dealing with the event going down at the 
Belcher Publix Supermarket. Some squirrels got affected. It's going 
to be hard to cover up." 


Nathan nodded. It made just as much sense as everything else 
lately. "Now, normally, I'd subject you to an orientation video and 
give you a pamphlet, but Hart eschewed that. You'll fill some 
paperwork out later. Just make sure it's all accurate," Wilma spoke, 
opening the door to Hart's office. The doctor stood to greet Nathan, 
and before he could inquire about the paperwork, the door was shut. 


He turned to face Hart, shaking his hand as well. "Yes, hi," Nathan 
breathed. Hart gave his hand a firm shake and walked back around 
his desk, seating himself. "We're leaving in a few minutes. Anything 
you'd like to bring along that you'd think would be useful?" 


"Leaving for where? Why am | here?” 


"The Publix I'm sure Wilma mentioned. We busted someone down 
there this morning trading off a designer drug. Now there's 
squirrels." 


Nathan blinked. "I'm sorry, what? What do squirrels have to do with 


a drug dealer?" 


"It's a long story. To be short, the drugs allow for reality bending. 
Minor. And the squirrels were set loose on the store in order to try 
and cover their tracks. Maybe. It may just be an act of harassment to 
warn us to back off. We're not sure of anything yet." 


Nathan breathed out. "Right. Right, okay. This is dangerous, yeah? | 
mean, what are the squirrels doing?" 


Hart chuckled. "Exactly what squirrels usually do, but worse." 
"What? Feed on nuts?" 


"Not quite." 


Nathan found a bottle of canola oil upended on his head, dousing 
him in the cooking liquid as he sputtered, grabbing for a plastic 
spatula he had grabbed off a nearby display. He whacked the 
squirrel that had pounced him in the face, stunning it just long 
enough to squirm out from under it. He heard gunfire elsewhere in 
the supermarket, relenting that he hadn't asked for a gun himself. 
He had lost the task force member that was supposed to be 
shadowing him some point in the Cereals and Dry Foods aisle, 
among a myriad of loop cereals and flakes. 


They were starting to regain control, but it was tough. The squirrels 
were far larger than your average nut-thief, and they were in quite 
the ravenous mood. They weren't even hunting for nuts. As they 
found with a corpse found in Aisle 14, they were indeed feasting on 
human flesh. Specifically, they had a taste for calves. 


"Atkinson, get your ass to me!" Jacob yelled, double-tapping the 
squirrel that had pounced Nathan first. "There aren't many left, but 
they're getting clever." 


Nathan shot his glances down the aisle as most of the supermarket 
went silent. His breath was heavy, rapid, and his heart was beating 
frantically as his calves tingled with the prospect of being devoured 
like cashews. A few clears were shouted over the aisles as the duo 


gathered themselves, relaxing. "Going to be one Hell of a cover-up," 
Jacob muttered, leaving Nathan to collect his wits. 


He squeezed at his coat, soaked in canola oil. He sighed. The 
garment was thoroughly trashed at this point, but, there was a bonus 
in this. He definitely still had calves. 


"Nathan!" 


Doctor Hart came down the hall, gun still in hand, offering Nathan a 
hand. The male blinked in confusion, unsure of when he had ended 
up on the ground. He gripped the doctor's hand and stood, gathering 
himself. "That was..." 


"Exhilarating? Yes, but the cleanup crew's job here is going to be 
Hellish." 


"Not what | had in mind," Nathan murmured, but followed the doctor 
as he began to walk further back in the store. "Find anything?" 


"Nothing," Hart breathed. "Nothing. Nothing more than this morning." 
"What did you get this morning? That weird reality drug?"