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and hurried to the door, opening it roughly. “What the hell?” he growled. He pulled Dez into the apartment and closed the door quickly. The bastard just grinned at him. “Do you not understand the point of being a secret informant? It means you inform and it's a secret.”
         Dez nodded at the beer in Mike's hand. “Got one of those for me?” he said.  
         Mike looked at him for a moment before shrugging. “In the fridge,” he said.
         “Thanks, mate,” said Dez, patting him on the arm. “Got an opener?”
         Mike slumped back down on the couch. “Just bang it on the counter.” Dez did and came to sit beside him.
         “So what do you want, Paine?”
         He shrugged, the leather of his jacket creaking. “Can't I come see a friend?”
         “We're not friends,” said Mike. “We're business associates.”
         “If that's what you want to call it. But I don't have any other business associates willing to have a beer with me at six in the morning.”
         “Been a long night,” said Mike, rubbing his forehead.  
         “Yeah, tell me 'bout it,” said Dez. “Had to pick up this junkie tonight. Cute as hell, even under all the mess. Had to take her in. Might have let her go if Rita hadn't been breathing down my neck, but that's the way of things these days. Least she won't come to no harm now, what with the new legislation.”
         “No harm,” said Mike. He barked a harsh laugh. “She's probably better off dead than what they're going to do to her.” Mike shifted to look at Dez. “Why are you here, Paine?”
         The man shrugged. “Thought you might have some more questions. Plus I need a place to sleep.”
         “Don't you have a place?” said Mike.
         “Too much weirdness going on,” said Dez. “Saw this Rev creeping around outside my building. Made me all twitchy. Especially because of all the shit I told you.”
         “Right, fine,” said Mike. He drained the last of the beer. “I'll get you a blanket. One night.”
         “Yeah, cool,” said Dez. “Thanks, Mike.” He grinned again. “You're going to blow them out of the water with this story, you know that?”
         “Hope so,” said Mike. “Speaking of, I've got some work to do. I'm going in to work in a few hours. Don't break anything.”
         Dez looked around. “You got anything breakable?”
         “And lock up if you leave before I get back,” Mike said. He went into the bedroom and brought back a moth eaten wool blanket and a flat pillow. “This is all I have.”
         “You should get some sleep, too, Mike,” said Dez, lying back and pulling the blanket over him. He stretched out contentedly. “You look like shit, man.”
         “Thanks,” said Mike. “I have to get some work done. I'll sleep later. Bathroom's over there, next to my room,” he said pointing to two doors on the left side of the small kitchen.  
         “Thanks again, Mike,” said Dez, closing his eyes. “Real lifesaver, you are.”
         “Just don't tell anyone,” said Mike.  
         “You have my word,” said Dez. Mike plucked the near-empty bottle out of his hand and put it by the sink. Paine was snoring by the time Mike closed his bedroom door behind him. He dug some clean, rumpled clothes out of a laundry basket and dressed. He found himself smiling as he caught the bus to the office.
         The real news. He could get used to this.

    He sat down in his cubicle, feeling like a carcass the dog dragged in, but started typing anyway, a fire in his belly. Clacking away on his old Remington, just like the old days. Telling the truth, just like the old days. Not giving a damn about the consequences, just like the old days. He didn’t even miss the computers that disappeared during the Blackout. He didn't pine for the days when he could fact check over the internet. This was real news and called for old school journalism. At that moment,