Snapshot

He considered telling her what they were really doing, but decided against it. They’d never turned off the Snapshot while Davis and Chaz were in it, but he wouldn’t put it past them. Of course, the two officers wouldn’t be reclaimed with the dupes, but it would still be disconcerting to watch it all break down around him.

He stood with his thumb on the phone. For months after the incident where Perez had died, he’d berated himself for not being strong enough. After that, he’d started to berate himself for ever thinking he could shoot another human being. It wasn’t in his nature, or it hadn’t been.

He had a copy of his own record, nestled on his phone, hidden away behind a password. He’d taken it off Maria’s computer at one point. So many commendations early on. Great investigator. Knows people; he can make them talk when nobody else can. People trust him, even those who shouldn’t.

And then the incident.

Unfit for fieldwork. Severe anxiety. Recommended for therapy and, if retained, strongly recommended that he be put on Snapshot duty.

The others in the precinct hadn’t used such sterile terminology about him. He still didn’t know if Maria had claimed him for Snapshot duty because she’d thought his investigative skills would be put to good use here, or if she’d assumed that this place would teach him how to kill.

Here, Chaz finally sent. No sounds from the pool locker room. Anything out there?

No, Davis sent.

I’m going to peek in.

Davis waited, heart beating rapidly. What a fool he was. He didn’t even have to be the one in danger for his nerves to go off!

He’s not here, Chaz sent. And nothing is disturbed. Let’s hope he doesn’t get spooked away permanently by the cops finding his last place.

Yeah, Davis sent. Be careful. If he doesn’t go in this way, you’ll have no warning.

Roger.

And then, a moment later, the phone buzzed again.

If it were me in danger, Chaz sent, you’d shoot.

I can’t say.

You would, Chaz sent. I know it.

Davis wasn’t sure. Even still. People felt that being in a Snapshot lowered the stakes. But at the same time, all these people—they’d been created so that Davis and Chaz could solve their little cases. An entire city populated, then destroyed in a day. Millions wiped out. A periodic holocaust. If he failed, it was all for nothing.

Seemed like huge stakes to him.

Anything? Chaz sent.

No. I’ll tell you if I see anything, Chaz. But if you keep distracting me— He stopped mid-sentence, and didn’t send the text.

Someone was moving through the alleyway. A tall man in a long coat, his hands in the pockets. With the sun having set, there wasn’t enough light to see him by, but he matched the profile.

Davis’s heart leaped. He’s here, he quickly texted.

Finally, Chaz sent.

Davis contained his breathing, trying not to imagine what would happen if the Photographer spotted Chaz. That wasn’t likely to happen. Was it? But what if he checked the woman they’d shot, and found her with a bullet wound? Davis hadn’t considered that.

The Photographer entered the building.

A short time later, Chaz sent, He just passed me. Went into the pool area.

At the very least, Davis didn’t have to keep worrying about Warsaw Street. They had a new case, a more important one. They wouldn’t be heading that way, and so none of his preparations would matter.

He found that idea comforting. Almost comforting enough to soothe his anxiety.

He’s looking in the door to where the bodies are, Chaz texted.

You followed him into the locker room?

Yeah.

Stop texting me and stay safe, idiot!

Davis waited, tense, staring at his phone and feeling a frustrating discordance. He’d just told Chaz not to update him—but that very silence put him on edge. He imagined his partner sneezing, the Photographer escaping. A dozen different scenarios.

He peeked in, Chaz sent, at the bee room. Seemed very worried about insects escaping, even though they’re all dead. It was dark in there though, and he doesn’t seem to have noticed that the woman was shot. Maybe he was just listening to hear if they were still breathing. He closed the door quickly, then went on to look over his improvised pool of water. I’m back outside. He’s eating a burger.

Davis relaxed, pulling the lid down to sit on the toilet. Honestly, it might have been less nerve-racking to go in himself, rather than waiting out here.

A door opened nearby in the apartment. Damn. The people who owned this place were back. I’m moving out to the street, Davis sent. So I can follow when he leaves.

He pushed out of the bathroom, causing a woman to drop her groceries and scream. Davis flashed her his badge, then realized he’d grabbed the reality badge and felt guilty for using it so injudiciously. Like Chaz did. Well, whatever.

He hurried out into the hallway, leaving the woman to collapse on her couch, holding her chest. He ran down the steps and into the night, then placed himself at the mouth of the alleyway connecting the back of the school to the street.

He settled down on the ground next to some steps, head bowed, trying to look like just another of the many bits of human refuse that littered the city.

A text came a short time later. He’s moving again. Back out your way.

So soon? Davis sent.

Yeah. He seems anxious. Just wanted to check things, I guess.

Wait a bit, Davis sent. Then follow.

Davis huddled there, proud at how calm his breathing was. When the Photographer passed him, he caught a good glimpse of his Asian features and black hair. Once the man was far enough ahead, Davis got to his feet and pursued silently.

He’s heading east, Davis sent.

I’ll go parallel, Chaz sent. Through the alleyways.

Roger.

As he followed, Davis began to feel a thrill. Perhaps this was what Chaz felt. He tried to think like his partner did. To him, this was all just a game. Couldn’t Davis enjoy a game?

Then the Photographer turned right.

Davis stopped on the corner.

He just turned toward Warsaw, Davis sent, his thumbs moving almost of their own accord.