Noah POV

December 2, 2026

I pull into the parking lot at the dispatch building. Tucked away up Corridor G, all I can really hear is some wind. We are far enough up the hill that the sounds from the road are distant, if heard at all. I gather my things from my car. Thankful to actually have it for once. I bought it from a friend a few years ago and lately it was costing nearly as much as I paid for it just to fix it.

It's a shame the old classic Chevelle Penny gave me to restore wouldn't be a good everyday car. It runs, just cosmetic things left now. God I wish she were here to take that first real ride.

I adjust the strap of my backpack on my shoulder as I grip my coffee-filled tumbler, pressing the alarm button, the chirping cutting through the quiet.

As if on cue, “Come to me…” echoes through my mind. I sigh and continue on.

3:34 am on May 26, six months and one week ago. Since then, approximately every thirty minutes. I don’t know if it was always synced, but by the time my brothers and I realized we all heard it, it was happening at the exact same time for us.

Four doctors.

Four MRIs.

Four variations of:

Stress.

Apparently shared auditory hallucinations run in families now.

As I am walking into the door I notice something on the ground right by the door.

A penny.

I sigh and kneel to pick it up.

Out of habit, I hold it in my fist and kiss my hand with a whisper. “Love you too, miss you”

For a moment, I remember soft lips, the scent of vanilla shampoo.

I tuck it away into my pocket, next to the special pendant I carry and straighten back up. The motion of course makes my tail sway as I work to keep my balance. This extra motion catches the attention of Barb, the dispatcher who normally sits next to me. She is standing in the lobby, same kind of tumbler in her hand.

“Hey Noah, she saying hi to you again?”

I give an embarrassed smile. I had never meant for anyone to realize what I was doing.

“Yeah, seems to be”

Barb gives me a sympathetic smile.

“My husband sends me little messages too. He always loved cardinal birds. Makes me smile when I see one.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her cardinals are in fact quite common; they are the state bird after all. But if I can believe that a randomly dropped penny is somehow connected to my dead wife, I can let Barb have her birds.

I make my way to my desk. As I approach, I notice binders askew over it. I roll my eyes and move to place them back where they belong.

“Oh hey, sorry, the training class used your desk today.” Patrick, the supervisor for day shift, casually mentions, as if it was perfectly fine, that they trashed my usually organized desk.

I reply to him, “You sure they are ready for live calls? You know this job takes a certain level of organization.”

Patrick shrugs, then says, “Hey, Kyra said she got it all back to normal.”

I give him a look. We both know Kyra, the day-shift who uses my desk, is notorious for being called out for slacking.

He gives a half smirk and shrugs again. “Hey, they just got a week of shadowing, then you get your space back to you.”

I finish straightening the binders and look to him.

“Are we sure Kyra is a good person to shadow?”

“Well, she’s been here a year, technically, she’s good enough”

Technically.

One of the most terrifying words in the English language when attached to emergency services.

I shake my head and take a seat, making sure my tail is out of the way of the wheels before rolling forward. I learned that lesson very quickly, before I even began working here.

“I better clock in, I’ll let you be responsible for the future of people who call during the day.”

Patrick leaves and go about disinfecting my equipment, then get my computer booted up. After eight years behind this desk, the keystrokes needed to sign in are as automatic as breathing. The headset fits on my head like an extension of it. The little mic needing adjusting, Kyra always made it weird, and I am sure the training class didn’t help.

As I pop my back, an unfortunately familiar sound escapes me.

I suppose it could be called a chirp.

I sounded like a house cat stretching in a sunbeam.

My ears automatically sweep the room before I can stop them, searching for any sign someone heard it.

Barb isn't looking my way.

Good.

I mutter under my breath.

"At least sound like a tiger if we have to be feline. Get a grip, Noah."

After collecting what remained of my dignity, I take a drink of coffee and sigh.

Time to switch on dispatch mode.

Above all else:
Remain calm.
Ask the right questions.

Listen.

Headset adjusted, I switch myself to available in the system.

Almost immediately, the familiar tone of an incoming call sounds in my ear.

Right on cue.

A thickly accented elderly male voice comes through, shaky and thin.
“I think… I might need a doctor.”

I’m already typing the address field as I answer, keeping my tone even.

“Sir, what’s your address or nearest cross street?”

There’s a long pause filled with heavy breathing.


“I’m at home… 1427 Maple Road. Apartment B.”

I enter it quickly. The system pulls up the location.

“Maple Road, apartment B. Okay. What’s going on right now? Can you tell me your symptoms?”

“My chest… it feels real tight. Hard to breathe. And my left arm… it’s gone numb.”

I flag it cardiac immediately and hit the dispatch button for the closest unit.

“Alright sir, I’ve got help on the way. Are you sitting or lying down right now?”

“Sitting… in my recliner.”

“Good. Stay right there. Is anyone else with you?”

“No… just me.”

I keep my voice calm, even as the whisper tries to creep in again.

“Paramedics are en route, ETA about four minutes. While we wait, can you tell me if the pain is going anywhere else? Your jaw, neck, shoulder, back?”

The man’s breathing is getting worse.

“Yeah… my jaw’s hurting bad.”

I glance at the screen as the unit acknowledges.

“Stay with me, sir. I want you to loosen anything tight around your neck or chest if you can. Paramedics are coming. Just keep talking to me.”

I hate these calls. The ones where it’s just them, alone, scared, and all I can do is keep them on the line.

The whisper chooses that moment to get louder.

Come to me…

I breathe through it, fingers steady on the keyboard, and keep my voice level.

“You’re doing good. Help is almost there.”

The man’s breathing was getting shallower. I kept my tone steady, the way they train you.

“Sir, the paramedics are pulling up now. I can hear the sirens, right? They’re going to take good care of you. Just stay with me a little longer.”

I watched the screen as the unit marked on-scene.

“Dispatch, Engine 7 and Medic 12 on scene.”

I let out a small breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Sir, the paramedics are at your door. I’m going to let them take over now, okay? You did great staying on the line with me.”

The elderly voice came back, weak but grateful.

“Thank you, son…”

“You’re welcome. Take care.”

I ended the call and sat back for half a second, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

I update the notes in the system, and took a slow sip of coffee that had gone lukewarm. Another night, another person fighting alone in their apartment.

Sometimes I wonder if any of us are really that different.

On to the next one.

Noise complaints.

Suspected overdose.

Break-ins.

One guy absolutely convinced his neighbor had been abducted by aliens.
I switched myself back to available and waited for the next call.

After a few moments of silence.

“911. What is the nature and location of your emergency?”

A woman’s voice, raw and trembling.


“I just found my husband… he’s on the floor in the living room. There’s blood everywhere. He’s not moving. Please send someone!”

I see the scene in my mind.

Then it bleeds into a familiar one.

A blood covered loft living room.

“Ma’am, I need your exact address or nearest cross street right now.”

She gives the address, voice cracking between sobs. I type it in quickly.

Memories of my own voice on the other side of the call.

I push on.

“Units are being dispatched. Stay on the line with me. Is he breathing? Can you see any chest movement at all?”

“No… no, he’s not breathing. His eyes are open but he’s… he’s just staring. There’s so much blood. What do I do?!”

In my head, the dispatcher asks. “Can you perform CPR?”

My broken voice replies.

“Her injuries are incompatible with life.”

Back to reality.

“Stay calm for me. I’ve got help coming. Are you safe where you are right now? Is there anyone else in the house with you?”

“It’s just us… I only left for ten minutes to get milk. He was supposed to be watching TV. Please hurry!”

“Ma’am, I need you to stay back and not touch anything if you can. Paramedics and police are en route. Current ETA is about seven to eight minutes. Just keep breathing and stay on the line with me, okay?”

The woman is crying harder now, almost hyperventilating.

“Seven minutes?! That’s too long! He’s my husband… he can’t be gone. Please, you have to do something!”

My own voice echoes in my head.

Firmer than I ever speak. Demanding a supervisor take the call.

“I know this is scary. I’m right here with you. Can you tell me if there’s any obvious injury you can see from where you are? Any major bleeding that we might be able to slow down?”

“There’s… there’s a lot on his chest and neck. I don’t want to get closer. I’m scared to look.”

I think of how I had wanted to go to her.

But I knew it was a crime scene then, there was no helping her.

Back to reality

I keep my voice steady the entire time, even as the memory tries to claw its way up.

The call stretches on for several more agonizing minutes — her crying, me asking gentle questions to keep her focused, updating her on the units’ progress. Seven minutes feel like forever on this side of the phone.

Finally I hear the sirens in the background.

“Ma’am, the paramedics and police are pulling up now. I’m going to let them take over. You did the right thing calling us right away.”

The call ends.

I hope the police can help her.

They couldn't help Penny.

We all watched the hallway footage.

Frame by frame.

They called it inconclusive.

I called it impossible.

I notice my status already says Busy.

I didn't do that.

"Noah."

Patrick nods toward the break room without looking away from his screen.

"Take five."

I look down.

My tail is twitching anxiously against the back of my chair.

"Traitor."

I sigh and collect my tumbler.

Barb looks over.

I just hold up my cup.

She nods and goes right back to her call.

I wonder why Patrick's still here.

Heather's chair is empty.

Right.

She called off again.

I stand by the coffee maker while a fresh pot brews.

I can't help but remember the sound of my voice that night. How I had taken to judging the performance of the dispatcher taking the call rather than dealing with what I was looking at. My mind refused to reconcile what my eyes were telling it.

How could my Penny be… in pieces…

I try to pull myself out of the flashback.

Holding the pendant helps.

My mind moves to how beautiful she looked as I slid the ring on her finger.

“You are my forever…”

I hold that memory as long as I can.

My mind calms enough fatigue can nudge me.

I yawn.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch my reflection in the little mirror by the break room door.

Talking, I can usually hide the canines.

Yawning?

Not so much.

Yeah...

Even I scare myself sometimes.

Growing up, our dentist had absolutely no idea what to do with them.

She offered to file them down.

Mom shut that down immediately.

"My boys are perfect exactly the way they are."

She wasn't about to make us change just because somebody else thought we should.

Dad would try and blend in, and Mom would tell him

“Nope, don’t you dare shrink for their benefit. “

We all learned a fine balance.

The coffee continues to brew.

I check my phone.

Danny replied to my latest police chase video. Oh, Marcus liked it too.

Hmm. An unknown number.

Hey Noah.

Odd.

I don't give my number out much.

My first thought isn't spam.

It's the case.

Maybe someone saw one of the old posts.

Maybe somebody finally remembered something.

Maybe...

I type.

Who is this?

I see the indicator pop up that it’s been seen.

It is nearly five am, someone is an early riser, or I woke them up.

Typing indicator.
...

Nothing.

I stand there watching it for far too long.

Finally, I move to get my coffee and head back to my desk.

Barb isn’t at her desk. Most likely a smoke break.

I get my headset back on and go back into available.

The rest of the shift passes in a blur.

Welfare checks.

Traffic stops.

A barking dog.

Another chest pain.

The phone never really stops ringing.

The end of the shift finally arrives 3 hours later.

I close out the system, making sure I am logged out.

I stretch and collect my things.

Give Barb a customary nod and head out.

The morning sun is always hard on the eyes after being inside all night.

I get into the car and check my mirrors.

Staring back at me is a stark reminder of just what bright light does to my eyes.

Instead of the usual round pinpricks, my pupils have narrowed into thin slits in a sea of dark green.

It’s always fascinated me and made me wonder just how much better we do see compared to normal humans.

For now, good vision or not, I need to navigate corridor G.

I decide to stop by the grocery store since there’s a large one right on the way home.

The Holler Dollar by the loft is decent for quick runs, but I may as well hit a big store while I can.

It’s not overly crowded as I walk in. The greeter gives me a friendly nod, and I give a little wave.

I notice that when I am not at work, I tend not to speak unless I have to, or really have something to say.

Penny used to always make fun of me, saying I met my daily quota of speaking.

She could always get me talking, though.

I reach in my pocket and feel the penny I found earlier. With it is the necklace I still need to fix.

We used to have a little thing where Penny would pack my lunch and leave a penny in the bag with a little note.

That day… “Don’t forget you are taking your lucky penny out for ice cream tonight after work.”

We didn’t make it to ice cream.

The note's still in my wallet.

The penny I had a jewelry maker fashion into a special pendant that incorporated her wedding ring into it.

I nearly lost it last week.

I tore the area apart until I found it.

I almost feel safer with it in my pocket than around my neck.

I make a mental checklist of what we need.

Probably milk, bread, coffee.

Cannot forget the coffee.

Caleb usually handles the big meals.

So that leaves me the freedom to buy the junk.

I don’t go overboard. I know with my sedentary job I’m the most likely of us to end up overweight if I don’t watch my diet.

But sometimes you just really need a brownie.

People ask what we eat all the time.

Which, yeah, we mostly eat meat.

Maybe it's because of Mom...

But we've all got a sweet tooth.

Me more than the others.
I go through the coffee aisle and notice vanilla caramel is on sale.

It’s halfway into the cart before I remember.

Penny loved vanilla caramel.

She'd make this little pleased hum when I'd wake her with a fresh cup, still wrapped up in a blanket and pretending she wasn't awake yet.

I stand there for a second, smiling at the memory.

Then I leave it in the cart.

Old habits die hard.

I grab my usual dark roast and continue on.

I stop by the discount bakery rack.

Caleb’s voice in my head the entire time.

“Noah…no…we don’t need that…”

I walk away with four new items in my cart.

I will just tuck them in my room, Caleb doesn’t have to know.

I’m standing in line when I feel a tug at my tail.

I look behind me and it’s a little girl, maybe four.

I give her a smile, the practiced one where no teeth show.

“Hey there.”

she grins up at me.

“Kitty!”

It’s at this moment her mom who was on the phone looks over.

“What kitty sweetie…”

She looks at me then immediately says

“Oh my god I am so sorry…”

I laugh softly.


“Not a problem ma’am, she’s just curious; she’s probably never seen a kitty like me. No harm done.”

The little girl giggles as her mom picks her up.

The mom stammers.

“We don’t mean to be disrespectful…”

The little girl gleefully says “Kitty!” once again.

I can’t help but laugh good-naturedly.

“Seriously, no problem at all. I love kids. Y’all have a good day.”

I turn to take my turn in the check out.

Penny and I had been planning kids once we got our own place. We were still young. Only twenty-one. We thought we had plenty of time to have a couple kids. Though odds were in our favor for multiples. I would have liked that really but Penny said if I gave her quads she would neuter me to make sure it didn't happen again.

She would have been a good mom. Smart, funny, caring.

She would have scooped up that little girl and told her “You are just adorable!”

I find myself smiling all the way back to the car.

Caleb will love hearing the story.

I get the things put in my car and sit in the driver seat.

I open up the family chat and type out the exchange.

Mom heart reacts, then types.

“OMG you boys would do stuff like that all the time at that age. I feel for that lady.”

I look at the time. It’s around nine am Caleb and probably Marcus will be getting home soon.

Danny?

Who knows his schedule here lately.

Poor guy is convinced if he doesn’t work every minute to make up for his time lost from the crash, no matter the fact that the lost hours were covered by special insurance, so he didn’t exactly lose money. He says he feels bad making people work while he didn’t.

My drive home isn’t bad. All interstate, really. That’s usually pretty smooth.

Getting home, I grab the groceries and make my way upstairs.

I am greeted by Caleb in the kitchen.

We exchange soft familiar chuffs.

“Oh, here I’ll help you put those away.”

I set everything but my bakery items on the counter.

Caleb notices me withholding a bag.

“Noah… what’s in the bag?”

I shrug and back away.

“Nothing you are going to want.”

“Noah…you already gained five pounds since your last appointment….”

“Tigers are naturally bulky…”

“Not this kind of tiger”

I look over his thin but athletic frame.

If he were a true tiger he would be right at home in the jungle as an apex predator.

My own much softer build is closer to a zoo tiger. Perfectly content to let someone else bring dinner.

He makes a dive for the bag, I turn just in time.

“I promise, I’ll go for more walks!”

Caleb huffs but stops his attempts to get the bag.

“You are impossible. You know your doctor has said lay off the sweets some.”

“I am not convinced he knows anything about our unique physiology.”

“Noah…if we were going on big cat diets, you wouldn’t be eating sweets either.”

I don’t really have a reply.

So in a childish move.

I stick my tongue out and retreat to my bedroom with my sweets clutched to my chest.

Caleb is laughing hard as I shut the door.

Bakery items get set on my desk. I will put them in my container I have for snacks in a bit.

For now, time to get out of these clothes and into something much more suitable for at home.

Nothing wrong with khaki pants and polos, but over the years I have begun to associate them with work.

So home, pj pants and a tee.

I gather my clothes and head to the bathroom for a shower.

“Hey, need the bathroom before I shower?”

“Nah I’m good; and Marcus is passed out.”

“OK, and I’m watching you, no sneaking in my room.”

"He holds up his hands.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not stealing your brownies. But you are eating the dinner I’m cooking tonight. Get some real food in you.”

“We will see.”

I will most likely eat dinner. Caleb has gotten excellent at cooking thanks to Mom teaching him.

The shower is when I truly hear the whisper for the first time since my shift.

After six months, I honestly hardly hear her when I get busy.

I’m washing my hair and just mutter.

“Just shut up”

“…obey.”

I let my head hang and watch the water pour over me.

“Clearly you don’t obey. So why should I?”

Getting dressed, I head back out to the main living area after tossing my clothes into the hamper. Since tonight and tomorrow are my days off, I will be doing laundry. We all have our chores we try to keep done.

I remember to grab my work pants and get the things out of my pocket, transferring them to my jeans.

It would make sense I would be tired by now, but I always have to wind down from work before I can sleep.

So, to my computer I go.

Pocky, our resident adolescent orange boy is in his usual spot on my chair. His sister Mochi, a little tortie, is on my bed. They like my room. Plenty of things to knock off shelves. They seem to rotate room to room.

I gently lift Pocky out of the chair, avoiding his attempt to bite me because I dared touch his belly. I set him on the bed beside his sister. He immediately hops down and stalks off, clearly offended.

Settling in my seat I put in my password and my virtual assistant wakes up.

It’s a very basic program, nothing fancy.

Just a little ai who I can chat with and have it keep track of appointments and important dates.

I had set up a voice for it a while ago. So when the soft feminine voice says.

“Hello Noah.”

It feels comforting and normal.

“Hello m.u.s.e., how are you?”

“I am well Noah. All systems are operational. “

“Good to hear, I think this morning we are just going to take it easy. “

“Ok Noah, I am always around if you need me. Just say the word.”

As I am bringing up an article I had been reading my phone vibrates.

I pick it up and look. I see on the notification screen a partial message “You probably don’t remember…”

I move to open up the message properly, but I am brought to the unknown number again, and the message is nowhere to be seen.

They deleted it.

The other messages are there, but not the one I had seen.

I send another message.

“Who is this?”

Typing…

…

Nothing.

I run my hand over my face and put my phone down.

Then pick it back up.

Looking at the number, I then type it into m.u.s.e.’s text input.

“M.u.s.e., please tell me what information you can find on that number.”

“Sure thing, Noah…”

I keep looking at my phone. I see typing again.

Then nothing.

“Noah, I have recovered no flags on this number. It appears to be a standard issue number on the Fmobile network.

My lips purse together and my shoulders drop.

“Well that is entirely unhelpful. But thank you M.U.S.E. you tried.”

“I did Noah, I am sorry what I found was unhelpful.”

“Not your fault.”

I realize I have reached over to pat the monitor, I go ahead and continue the motion.

I stare at my phone a moment more.

Think to myself, who could this be? Maybe an old high school friend.

That seems a reasonable guess.

My friends back then were awkward at communicating in a lot of cases.

I send another message.

“Do I know you?”

Immediately a reply comes.

Yes.

OK, we are making progress.

What is your name?

Typing.

Nothing.

You have got to be kidding me.

I have enough mystery in my life.

On cue.

Though she seems early…

“Come to me…”

She is much louder this time.

Pain radiates from behind my eyes. I drop my phone and grip my desk.

“Not now…” I say through gritted teeth.

M.U.S.E. Wakes up at my voice.

“I didn’t quite catch that..”

“Not you M.U.S.E.”

The pressure backs off enough for me to think again. It leaves a dull ache behind. It never did that before.

I pick up my phone.

I type another message.

Whoever this is, just say your name. It can’t be that hard.

Typing.

Nothing.

I groan and lean back in my chair, looking to the ceiling.

Looking at the phone, an idea comes to mind.

Shrugging I decide that I would use a tactic I have used on calls before.

Sometimes a caller can’t outright say what they need.

So we play twenty questions.

Did we go to school together?

Yes.

Pain spikes.

But I ignore it.

We are making progress.

Man or woman?

Man.

So they do want to talk. Just for some reason they can’t.

Are you safe?

Kind of.

Thinking to myself, that is not encouraging.

Replying to him.

Is the danger immediate?

No.

I breathe a little easier at that.

Why can’t you say your name?

You won’t believe me.

Why?

More hesitation.

I send another message.

Are you in WV?

Yes.

Can we meet up?

Not yet.

Whoever this was wasn't avoiding me.

They were waiting for something.

I try pushing a little harder.

Why did you message me?

I have answers.