The Divergence

Ethan Vale tapped his foot relentlessly beneath his desk.

The rhythm echoed faintly through his small apartment, joining the quiet hum of his computer. 

Three monitors illuminated the room with pale blue light, each displaying something different. 

One showed his social media analytics. Another displayed local news feeds. The third refreshed a search for new posts mentioning vampires in Oakridge.

Nothing.

He refreshed again.

Still nothing.

His fingers tightened around the edge of his desk.

"...Come on."

The page loaded.

Nothing.

Not a single new sighting.

Not a blurry photograph.

Not a shaky cellphone video.

Not an eyewitness account.

Nothing.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, dragging both hands down his face before letting out a long, frustrated breath.

Just when everything had started falling into place.

Just when people had finally begun listening to him.

Just when he'd gone from another forgettable local reporter to someone people actually recognized.

The vampires had disappeared.

Before, there had at least been something.

Sightings.

Rumors.

Videos.

Arguments.

People pointing cameras every time one walked down a sidewalk.

Now...

It was as though Oakridge had suddenly developed a severe shortage of vampires.

Of the group he'd encountered that night, not one had been seen again.

No interviews.

No incidents.

No public appearances.

No mistakes.

Nothing.

His analytics reflected it perfectly.

The rapid climb that had thrilled him only days earlier had flattened into an almost horizontal line.

His audience was still there.

Mostly.

But the excitement wasn't.

People wanted something new.

People always wanted something new.

He clicked into the comments beneath one of his most popular videos.

Thousands of replies.

Most still agreed with him.

Most still insisted humanity needed to stay vigilant.

Most still believed vampires couldn't be trusted.

But not all of them.

His eyes narrowed.

"Didn't you say there'd be attacks by now?"

"Funny how quiet you've gotten"

"So... are we just pretending these women haven't vanished?"

"Bro built his career on disaster victims"

"Imagine using scared people for clout"

"You're not protecting anyone. You're farming engagement"

His jaw tightened.

Another.

"If vampires were actually what Ethan says, wouldn't they have done something by now?"

He scoffed aloud.

"They're hiding."

He immediately clicked the reply button.

"Or they're waiting."

Post.

The next comment.

"Maybe they're just trying to live?"

He replied again.

"That's exactly what they'd want you to think."

Post.

Another.

"You're getting manipulated by appearances."

His fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Beauty lowers people's guard. That's not proof they're harmless."

Post.

Someone called him paranoid.

Another called him desperate.

One simply posted a laughing emoji.

Ethan closed the page before he could read another.

He leaned back again, breathing through his nose.

They didn't understand.

People always got comfortable.

They always forgot.

Something happened.

Everyone panicked.

Then...

Nothing happened for a few days.

People relaxed.

They convinced themselves the danger had never existed.

He wasn't going to let that happen.

He couldn't.

Not now.

Not after finally getting noticed.

His eyes drifted toward the framed press badge hanging beside his desk.

Three months ago...

Almost nobody had known his name.

He'd covered ribbon cuttings.

Charity events.

Traffic accidents.

City council meetings.

Stories nobody remembered by the following morning.

He'd wanted more.

He'd wanted people to know his name.

To quote him.

To share his reporting.

To matter.

Then the Divergence happened.

The entire world changed.

For the first time in his career, people weren't interested in politics or celebrity gossip.

They wanted answers.

They wanted certainty.

They wanted someone willing to point at the unknown and tell them who to fear.

He'd stepped forward.

Others had hesitated.

He hadn't.

His audience had exploded.

His follower count had climbed faster than he'd ever imagined possible.

Interview requests.

Television appearances.

Podcasts.

People asking for his opinion.

His opinion.

It had finally happened.

He had become somebody.

Now...

The numbers had stopped climbing.

His gaze returned to the analytics.

The graph wasn't falling.

Yet.

But it wasn't growing anymore either.

That frightened him more.

Fading.

Being forgotten.

Returning to covering potholes and neighborhood festivals.

Returning to being invisible.

His stomach twisted.

"No..."

He whispered it to himself.

"I can't."

Not after knowing what it felt like.

Not after strangers recognized him.

Not after millions of views.

Not after finally feeling important.

He stood abruptly enough that his chair rolled backward into the wall.

The apartment suddenly felt suffocating.

He paced once across the living room before stopping beside the window overlooking downtown Oakridge.

Cars moved below.

Pedestrians crossed intersections.

The city looked...

Normal.

Too normal.

Where were they?

The vampires hadn't left.

They couldn't have.

People couldn't simply disappear.

Unless...

They'd been hidden.

Protected.

His eyes narrowed.

Someone had to know where they were.

Someone always knew something.

He only needed to find them first.

His gaze shifted toward his camera bag resting beside the front door.

A slow smile appeared.

"If they won't come to me..."

He walked over and picked it up.

"...I'll find them."

Within minutes, he had slung the camera over one shoulder while checking that his phone was fully charged.

Battery.

One hundred percent.

Storage.

Plenty remaining.

Microphone.

Working.

He slipped the phone into his pocket.

His keys followed.

As he reached the door, another thought occurred to him.

Werewolves.

He paused.

There were more werewolves than vampires.

Finding one would probably be easier.

His hand rested on the doorknob as he considered it.

Then he slowly shook his head.

"No."

Werewolves weren't the same.

There were simply too many of them.

Friends.

Parents.

Children.

Communities.

If he started aggressively confronting werewolves, he'd be arguing with entire support networks.

People would defend them.

Stand beside them.

The story became messier.

Vampires...

Vampires were different.

Even now, plenty had been isolated.

Rejected.

Asked to leave.

Some families refused to let them back inside their homes.

Some neighborhoods didn't want them nearby.

Fear lingered around them in a way it didn't around werewolves.

Fear made people watch.

Fear made people click.

Fear made stories spread.

He wasn't interested in making people comfortable.

Comfort didn't trend.

Conflict did.

He opened the apartment door and hurried down the hallway toward the parking garage beneath the building.

The elevator ride felt agonizingly slow.

Every passing second seemed like another opportunity slipping away.

The doors finally opened.

He strode through rows of parked vehicles before reaching his sedan.

His hands moved automatically.

Camera into the passenger seat.

Phone mounted beside the dashboard.

Seatbelt.

Keys into the ignition.

The engine rumbled to life.

Ethan gripped the steering wheel tightly enough for his knuckles to whiten.

His heart pounded against his ribs.

He needed to find one.

Just one vampire.

One interview.

One confrontation.

One sighting.

One mistake.

Anything.

Anything people would watch.

Because if he didn't...

His brief moment of fame would become exactly that.

A moment.

The algorithm would move on.

His audience would move on.

The world would move on.

And Ethan Vale would become another forgotten reporter whose biggest story had come and gone before anyone remembered his name.

He shifted the car into reverse and backed out of his parking space.

Moments later, he drove out of the parking garage and into the streets of Oakridge, scanning every sidewalk, every crosswalk, every face he passed.

He had tasted recognition.

He had tasted importance.

And after that...

He couldn't bear the thought of becoming a nobody again.

───

The roads leading into Oakridge Military Base were quiet by the time Violetta arrived.

It was nearing eleven at night.

The city beyond the perimeter had settled into the slower rhythm that came with late evenings, but the base remained very much awake. 

Floodlights cast bright white pools across the parade grounds, illuminating rows of military vehicles and the silhouettes of soldiers moving between buildings. 

A helicopter sat on a distant landing pad with technicians working beneath portable lights, while another could be heard somewhere farther across the installation, its rotors beating steadily through the night air.

Military bases rarely slept.

Tonight was no exception.

After checking in at the front gate and exchanging brief formalities with the personnel there, Violetta was escorted through the headquarters building and toward the base commander's office.

A soldier opened the door for her.

"General."

"Thank you."

She stepped inside.

Colonel Richard Bennett stood behind his desk, a man in his late fifties with broad shoulders, neatly trimmed gray hair, and the posture of someone who had spent decades wearing a uniform. 

He offered a respectful nod as she entered.

"General Violetta."

"Colonel Bennett."

They shook hands before taking their seats across from one another.

The office overlooked part of the parade grounds. Even at this hour, activity continued beyond the window. 

Soldiers crossed the illuminated pavement carrying equipment between buildings, while military trucks moved methodically through the base. 

The distant pulse of helicopter rotors occasionally vibrated faintly through the glass.

Bennett folded his hands atop the desk.

"I understand you wished to discuss security."

"I did."

Violetta slid a folder across the desk.

"I'd like military protection assigned to facilities handling nonhuman affairs."

He opened the folder.

"Government registration offices."

"Yes."

He continued reading.

"Relief coordination."

"Yes."

"Identity documentation."

She nodded.

"Temporary housing."

"Correct."

His eyes moved farther down the page.

"Blood clinics."

"Especially blood clinics."

He looked back up.

"They've already been attacked."

"They have."

"The bombing alone has made rebuilding considerably more complicated."

"I know."

Bennett continued reading.

"There are additional requests for security at future service centers."

"Any facilities created specifically to support vampires or werewolves should receive protection if intelligence suggests they're likely targets."

He leaned back slightly.

"You're asking for a fair number of soldiers."

"I'm asking for enough personnel to discourage another attack."

"The Army can't guard every building in Oakridge."

"I wouldn't ask it to."

Violetta folded her hands comfortably in her lap.

"Police resources are already stretched. The facilities handling nonhuman services have become symbolic targets."

Bennett slowly nodded.

"I've read the reports."

"Then you understand my concern."

"I do."

He looked toward the folder once more before closing it.

"The blood clinics concern me the most."

Violetta remained silent, allowing him to continue.

"When they're rebuilt..."

He met her eyes.

"I'll personally ensure they remain protected."

She studied him for a moment.

"Military protection?"

"Yes."

"Visible?"

"Absolutely."

His expression remained steady.

"If someone intends to attack another clinic, I'd rather they see soldiers waiting for them before they make the attempt."

A small smile appeared on Violetta's face.

"I appreciate that, Colonel."

"They've become too important."

He rested one hand against the folder.

"They're not simply medical facilities anymore."

"No."

"They're becoming part of the country's infrastructure."

"They are."

"If we're going to ask vampires not to hunt humans..."

He paused briefly.

"...then we have a responsibility to protect the services we're asking them to rely upon."

Violetta inclined her head.

"I couldn't have said it better."

Bennett gave a single nod.

"I'll begin coordinating with local authorities once reconstruction begins."

"Thank you."

The office grew quiet for several moments.

Outside, another truck passed beneath the floodlights.

Violetta glanced briefly toward the window before returning her attention to Bennett.

"There was one other matter."

He gestured for her to continue.

"The attacks."

His expression remained neutral.

"Do you have any information that hasn't already reached the police?"

Bennett hesitated.

It lasted only an instant.

"So far..."

He folded his hands together.

"...I don't know anything."

Violetta noticed the hesitation.

She also noticed he had answered carefully rather than immediately.

Still, she simply nodded.

"I expected as much."

His brow lifted slightly.

"The military aren't detectives."

She smiled gently.

"Nor are you the police."

"No."

"You have your own responsibilities."

"We do."

"If something relevant reaches military channels, I'm confident it'll be forwarded appropriately."

"It will."

"I appreciate that."

Neither of them mentioned the brief pause before his answer.

There was little point.

Whatever information existed, if any, wasn't something she was likely to obtain by pressing him during their first meeting.

Instead, she rested one hand lightly against the desk.

Her index finger tapped the polished wood once.

Then again.

The quiet sound drew Bennett's attention.

"I hope this is the beginning of a lasting cooperation."

"I do as well."

Violetta smiled.

"I mean genuine cooperation."

His expression remained unreadable.

"There are going to be disagreements between federal agencies, local officials, military personnel, and everyone responsible for integrating nonhumans into society."

"I imagine so."

"Some disagreements are unavoidable."

She paused.

"What isn't unavoidable..."

Her finger stopped tapping.

"...is allowing personal prejudice to interfere with our duties."

Bennett's face changed.

It wasn't dramatic.

But the warmth disappeared from his expression almost instantly.

His jaw tightened.

His eyes hardened.

Violetta continued before he could respond.

"I'm here under direct federal orders to stabilize Oakridge."

Her tone remained calm.

Professional.

"If you undermine those efforts..."

She met his gaze without blinking.

"...or sow discord between your personnel and the agencies responsible for nonhuman integration..."

The office seemed unusually quiet.

"...you'll be fortunate to keep your rank."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Bennett stared back at her.

His expression shifted more than once.

First came anger.

Then disbelief.

Then calculation.

His fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk before slowly relaxing again.

"You believe I'd do that?"

"I don't know you well enough to answer."

"You've made assumptions."

"I've acknowledged the possibility."

His jaw worked.

"I've served this country for thirty-three years."

"And I respect that."

Violetta's voice never rose.

"But your years of service don't place you above your orders."

Silence.

She continued.

"You don't have to like vampires."

Nothing.

"You don't have to like werewolves."

Still nothing.

"You don't even have to agree with federal policy."

She folded her hands together.

"But while you're wearing that uniform..."

She looked directly into his eyes.

"...you will carry out lawful orders."

The tension in Bennett's shoulders lingered for another few seconds before gradually easing.

His expression settled into something controlled.

Then...

He smiled.

It wasn't a pleasant smile.

It looked forced.

Almost painful.

"I'll do my utmost to cooperate with you, General."

Violetta held his gaze for another moment before giving a formal nod.

"Thank you, Colonel."

She rose smoothly from her chair.

Bennett stood as well.

"I'll have my staff begin coordinating with yours tomorrow morning."

"I'll look forward to receiving the deployment proposals."

"I'll make certain they're sent."

Violetta extended her hand.

He accepted it.

Their handshake was brief.

Professional.

Nothing more.

"I appreciate your time this evening," Violetta said.

"And I appreciate yours, General."

She turned toward the office door.

A soldier waiting outside immediately straightened and opened it for her.

Violetta acknowledged him with a nod before stepping into the corridor.

The headquarters building remained active despite the late hour, officers and enlisted personnel moving between offices beneath bright fluorescent lights. 

Somewhere farther down the hall, a phone rang before being answered.

Behind her, Colonel Richard Bennett remained standing inside his office.

The door closed softly between them.

Without looking back, Violetta continued down the corridor, the quiet scent of lilac and rain following her as she made her way toward the exit and the waiting night beyond the headquarters building.

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