Andrew Collins looks exactly like the kind of man nobody would ever notice.
An accountant. A briefcase. A nervous smile.
As he waits outside an aging apartment building on the day of a devastating explosion, Andrew struggles to appear normal while carrying out a task that will haunt him for the rest of his life.
Inside, ordinary people go about their day. A man waits for an elevator. Neighbors check their mail. Couples argue quietly in the lobby.
Andrew descends into the boiler room.
A briefcase is left behind.
And somewhere on the other end of a phone call, Marcus reminds him that some decisions cannot be taken back.
Chapter 3, Part 1 introduces Andrew Collins and reveals the events leading up to the explosion that will change everything.
Narrated by Leonard Voss
Andrew voiced by Josh Neel
Transcripts
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Chapter 3 Part 1 the Courier the day of the explosion Andy wait for someone to go in.
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Andrew Collins looked exactly like a man with no reason to be nervous.
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He stood on the sidewalk in a button down and good shoes, briefcase hanging from one hand.
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An accountant.
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A nobody.
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The kind of man who blends into a crowd.
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He just couldn't stop sweating.
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The scrap of paper sat in his pocket.
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He'd read it four times and folded it four times, the crease gone soft.
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A rough box, a hallway.
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An arrow drawn hard enough to tear the page.
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Boiler room.
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He watched the door out of the corner of his eye.
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People moved in loose patterns.
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Out with coffee, in with grocery bags.
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A couple arguing softly as they fumbled for keys.
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The entrance opened and closed in short, ordinary bursts.
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Andrew's fingers tightened on the briefcase handle, then eased again.
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Don't be first.
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Just.
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Just wait.
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The leather creaked once, small and dry.
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Two men came out laughing.
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One held the door for the next group.
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Without looking up, Andrew stepped in with them, close enough to be carried through, far enough to be ignored.
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Warm, stale air touched his face as he entered.
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Cheap cleaner over something older, the faint mildew still pushing through.
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Andrew drifted deeper into the lobby, stopping by the mailboxes.
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They covered the wall in a tight grid.
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Notices layered a nearby bulletin board, handwritten dog walker ads.
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Rent reminders.
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A missing package warning printed in block letters.
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Too many tacks.
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Too much paper.
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The elevator doors sat closed.
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At the far end, a man in a long jacket stood in front of them, phone in his hand, thumb scrolling, humming to himself.
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Andrew froze, eyes locking onto the man.
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Why am I so hot?
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The man glanced over, meeting Andrew's gaze.
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A puzzled look crossed his face.
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Andrew snapped his head around as if he'd just noticed the board.
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He leaned in, tore off a tab from a dog walker's flyer, and pocketed the number.
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The man raised an eyebrow.
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Waiting for someone?
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Andrew slowly turned back toward him, his throat tightening.
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A nervous smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
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Yeah, he said.
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No, not no.
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I'm just.
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The man watched him, amusement creeping into his expression.
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Andrew nodded, as if the nonsense he'd just said made perfect sense, and shifted his weight onto his heels.
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The elevator chimed as the doors slid open.
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The man stepped in, holding an arm out to catch the door.
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Andrew took a step toward him, then stopped.
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Are you getting on or what?
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Oh, andrew said.
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He glanced back at the board again.
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I. I gotta grab this number again.
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Real quick.
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Dog walker friend needs one.
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He gestured vaguely at the flyers.
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I'll get the next one.
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Thanks.
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The man shook his head and let out a light laugh as he let go of the doors.
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Okay, bud, he said.
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The doors slid closed between them.
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Andrew turned toward the stairwell, breaking into an awk half jog.
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After watching the floor number change on the elevator, he slowed to pace himself after realizing how fast he was moving.
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The air cooled during his descent.
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A faint smell of old oil and hot wiring began to fill the air while the sounds of everyday life from the floor above thinned and dropped away until there were none left.
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He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking both ways down the corridor.
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The hum of the utility room became ever present.
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Andrew cracked the door, glanced back once, and stepped in backward, eyes on the hallway until the door sealed shut.
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Soft red light, the low buzz of failing bulbs, and the hum of machinery.
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All of it pressed in at once.
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He crossed the boiler room along the wall where the pipes ran low and and warm.
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The concrete underfoot was uneven and gritty, darkened in places by old stains.
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He stopped near the far corner, lowering the briefcase until it rested flat against the floor.
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He removed another folded piece of paper from his jacket.
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A red X was scrawled on the corner of a box labeled BOILER Room Place here.
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He studied the case a moment longer and then gently nudged it closer to the wall.
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He straightened, studying where it sat.
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Why are you still here, dummy?
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Go.
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Andrew blinked, then turned and walked back the way he had come, through the door, up the stairs without stopping, back through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk.
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He would think about what he had just done for the rest of his life, however long that turned out to be.
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His phone rang.
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Please don't be him.
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Andrew kept walking and lifted the phone to his ear.
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He said nothing.
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I'm not hearing much in the way of words.
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Just breathing.
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Are you getting in a workout or something?
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His caller laughed.
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You should slow down, buddy.
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Too much stress will kill you.
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Andrew stopped walking and swallowed.
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Hello, Marcus.
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There he is.
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Andrew, marcus replied cheerfully.
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Glad I caught you at a good time.
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Andrew realized he had stopped moving.
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You can't stay here.
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Keep moving.
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There he is.
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Andrew, marcus replied cheerfully.
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Glad I caught you at a good time.
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Andrew realized he had stopped moving.
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You can't stay here.
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Keep moving.
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He started walking again.
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I'm fine.
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It's handled.
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Of course it is.
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I never doubted that.
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You just pick up the pace or something.
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I can hear the shuffle.
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Andrew said nothing.
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Marcus went on anyway.
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Look, everybody makes a bad investment at some point.
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It's part of the game.
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What matters is how you respond once the numbers don't do what you expect.
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Andrew's hand tightened around the phone.
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You don't walk away from a position just because it dips.
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You reassess.
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You reallocate.
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You commit.
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That's how you protect the upside.
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And honestly, I figured you of all people would understand that.
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You get bullish.
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Hell, you the bull.
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Andrew's shoulders tensed.
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Anyway, I gotta go.
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Andy.
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Tell that amazing wife of yours I.
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Said hi, marcus said happily.
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Oh, and you have about 30 seconds.
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He hung up.
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Andrew ducked his head and went to slide his phone into his jacket.
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As he rounded the corner, he hit someone's shoulder first, just enough to knock the man half a step sideways.
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Sorry, andrew called, already correcting his stride.
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His hand slipped the phone into his jacket pocket.
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He glanced down at his watch.
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He never saw the man's face.
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Jesus, I'm going to hell.
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Up Next Chapter three Part two of the day of the Explosion the Cook.
