The stenciled ‘90° turns’ that had been spray painted on various outlying buildings by the military didn’t help and angry teenagers who had compromised family added their touches of graffiti to the ominous signs.
With more than half of the small towns’ population gone and a large number infected, the town was becoming run down. The constant blood draws were taking its toll and many residents were becoming lethargic which was one of the reasons for the towns’ condition.
Although the twilight citizens were doing their best to help, they dealt constantly with the pain of the infection. Some who were not infected but had the antidote in them stayed because if they left and became infected, they would be shot on sight. Those who thought death would be preferable to the horrible limbo state, left.
The twilight people stayed out of sight when any cars were seen because they knew they would become the objects of target practice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the meantime, life with Aunt Milly turned out to be pleasant for Leandra. Sharing memories with a person who knew and loved her family as she did was cathartic for both of them.
Then there was Skippy, Aunt Milly’s seventeen pound American Wirehair. Leandra playfully called him a dat, her word for a cat with a dog’s personality. His instinct to stalk prey was his only feline characteristic. Everything else about him was canine. He followed Leandra or her Aunt everywhere and when they stopped, he was instantly in their lap and he usually wasn’t content with just sitting in their lap. Most times he was leaning against their chest and trying to nuzzle their faces. He loved having his face rubbed and Leandra would start on each side of his nose and run her thumbs across his eyes and behind his ears. Then he would roll over with the back of his head snuggled into the crook of her arm like an infant so she could rub his snow white belly and chest. A very odd cat, he was.
Skippy would lie on Leandra’s lap as long as she would let him. Often times, when she was reading, he would be there for an hour without moving. When she would notice her legs going numb from his weight, she’d shoo him off, always thinking of her JoJo who had the same personality.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Leandra” Aunt Milly said a little louder to get her attention. Skippy jumped off of Leandra’s lap when Milly raised her voice.
“What? I’m sorry Aunt Milly” Leandra said as she laid down the book she had been reading. With most of the Walters residents being a lot older or younger than herself, Leandra filled her loneliness by reading the classics and adventure novels. Lovelorn women and drama were never topics that interested her. Her favorites were historical fiction and survival novels which, considering the times she lived in, were a good choice.
She looked expectantly at her aunt who had run and maintained the local town library for as long as she could remember. Even now, she did what she could to keep it open. She was very nice but outside of books and family, they had very little in common. Still, she was grateful for the home her aunt shared with her.
“It’s my turn to donate. Would you mind pulling a handful of vegetables from the garden and prepping a chicken for dinner tonight?” she asked as she headed for the door.
“Not at all Auntie” Leandra said as she closed her book and set it aside.
“Thank you sweetheart” said Milly as she navigated her bike off the porch.
“I’ll be back in just a bit to finish up.”
Leandra got up and went to the kitchen. Looking through the cupboard for an appropriately sized bowl to hold the veggies, she settled on one and went outside. She took her time walking through the neat rows to see what was ready to pick.
Selecting a squash and a large carrot, she walked over to the outside faucet to rinse her vegetables. The sun was warm but she could feel the season changing. She reminisced about a camping trip her family had once taken on a weekend like this. It was a wonderful memory for her and she fought to keep from becoming melancholy about her loss. She missed them all so much but she also realized dwelling on their absence would not improve her situation.
Wiping her wet hands on her pants, she picked up her bowl and walked back into the small country kitchen. She put her findings in the sink then opened a cupboard under it and pulled out a large stock pot. She filled it three quarters full of water and put in on the stove to heat up, keeping an eye on it while she cleaned the vegetables she had picked and prepped them for cooking.
When the water just started getting bubbles in the bottom of it, she got the potholders. Lifting the pot off of the stove, she carefully took it outside by the clothesline and set it next to a stool in the back yard.
Then, walking over to the chicken coop, she quickly selected a hen that had stopped laying eggs. She deftly rung its neck then walked over to the chopping block and picking up the axe, removed its head with one strong chop. Hanging it by its feet on the clothesline in an area set aside for the task, she waited a few minutes for the blood to drain. When the flow had become a slow drip she dunked the bird in the pot of hot water that was waiting to loosen the feathers. Skippy was by her side, hoping to get a taste.
Plucking feathers was the part she hated doing most. Settling herself on the stool with the axe next to her, she began picking the feathers off the stinking bird. It didn’t smell as bad as the infected but it was a close second.
She was just pulling off the last of the wing feathers when she noticed Skippy staring past her, stiff as a board and softly growling.
“What’s up old boy?” Leandra playfully asked him and then, just as quickly realized his line of vision was not looking at a mouse but something much taller. Skippy didn’t move a muscle so Leandra turned to look over her shoulder.
Jumping up and grabbing her axe in the same motion, she swung her arm up and down across the head of the mangled young boy that had started its lunge for her.
Shaking all over, she picked up her pot and ran into the house with Skippy at her heels.
She locked the door and fell to her knees with Skippy instantly on her, purring.
Burying her face into his fur, she thanked him for being such a good guard cat and not running but standing his ground until she was aware of the danger.
She would let her aunt know about the corpse in the yard as soon as she came home. She would know what to do with it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Milly was still not back when Leandra had calmed down, so she went ahead and started dinner. She cut up her chicken and put it on to boil instead of frying it so they would have a good stock to make soup with.
She decided to sauté the vegetables and had just finished cutting them up when her Aunt Milly finally walked through the front door.
Leandra looked up to tell her aunt what had happened. But seeing how pale her aunt’s face was, she forgot about her own experience.
“Auntie! Are you all right?”
28 First Incarceration
Jazz Krieger simply didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to get away from everything. With no police to patrol the highways, he opened up his ’64 Camero and drove. Not anywhere in particular, just away from where he was.
He left Phoenix and approached Walters in less than two hours. He saw the signs cautioning him to slow down for town limits but kept his speed up.
‘What a joke’ he thought. ‘At best, I get to nowhere faster and at worst, I hit a few Turners on the way.’
Dale was watching for opportunities and saw Jazz as he sped by what he thought were empty apartments.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shelby was just finishing up her small purchase at Tina’s boutique. The shelves were not stocked as they had been before the plague but Shelby liked to visit the stores that were left for sake of normalcy more than to buy anything.
She had finished her visit and took her little girl’s hand to leave, saying her goodbyes to Tina, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Looking up at a sky which had grown cloudy in the time she was inside, she stepped off the curb and into the street with her mind on whether she could foreca
st if they would be getting any rain. Milly, who was leaving Dr. Wiggins’ office where the blood donations took place happened to see Shelby and called out a hello to her.
Milly had spent more time than she had planned catching up on things with Marcia who was filling in for the nurse that was normally there to do the draws.
They both heard the Camero round the corner at the same time but Shelby was confused. The sounds of cars these days were rare since most people walked where they needed to go in the small town to keep from using gas which was becoming a scarce commodity in Walters.
Jazz was paying more attention to the sheriff’s car in his rear view mirror than to what was going on in front of him.
Shelby and Jazz saw each other at the same moment and collided in the next.
The sickening thud and screeching brakes brought Tina running out of her shop.
Dale swerved to the side to avoid running into them and jumped out of the cruiser as soon as it stopped.
He rushed to the motorist and handcuffed him, then went over to Shelby.
Looking at her, Dale knew she and her little girl were beyond help. They were both gone.
There was nothing to be done. Dale, Tina and Milly all knew this.
Sickened that he didn’t stop the speeding motorist sooner, he walked over and pushed the murderer into the back seat, not caring that his arms were twisted behind his back.
“You’re finished” was all Dale said.
“What about my rights?” Jazz challenged.
“You don’t have any.” Dale shot back, not allowing Jazz to finish and slammed the door in his face.
Then he heard Tina scream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dale turned around and saw Shelby reaching towards the shop owner. Shelby and her daughter had not been dusted so he walked over to Shelby and put an end to her. Tears started streaming down his face when her little girl opened her eyes.
Carson pulled up just after Dale had discharged the second shot and took in the situation instantly. “I’ll take him in and book him,” he offered.
“Thanks” was all Dale could manage to say.
Milly just stood in the street. She was physically sick at what she had witnessed. She needed to get back home as quickly as possible. She ran back to the doctor’s office to get her bike and pedaled as fast as she could towards her home.
29 Jazz
Most government offices had closed because of a lack of employees to fill the jobs. In the time before the plague, Jazz would have been booked for manslaughter and sent to Phoenix for processing and incarceration.
That option was no longer available so Walters would have to deal its own justice. Since they were not like any other small town, their justice was set up to accommodate the needs of the citizens. They had absorbed a chemical that required special treatments and as more residents became infected and morphed into the twilight beings, Walters needed more of the priceless liquid that kept them from going insane from the pain. The needs of the citizens trumped the rights of the criminal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dale, Carson, Shar, Suri, Charles and Leo were settled in the Patels comfortable living room the next morning. The meeting was an official one so Milly was there to take the minutes. Even though Walters was a shadow of what it had been, those in charge held onto formalities.
Dale began.
“We’re confronted once again with having to make a decision with no precedent.
We had earlier decided to force miscreants and law breakers to donate blood to replenish our dwindling supply. As you know, we have our first criminal donor. Phoenix is no longer an option for sentencing so it falls on our shoulders to be judge, jury and even executioner if a decision is made to that end.
A man named Jazz Krieger sped by the apartments yesterday. I gave chase but he did not pull over or slow down. Speeding at 70 miles per hour down main street, he hit and killed Shelby and her little girl as they were crossing the street in front of Tina’s Boutique.
Shelby and her daughter were killed instantly. I checked them myself. They were also AT48 recipients.
I was standing next to my cruiser when I heard Tina scream. Shelby had reanimated and was struggling toward Tina. I walked over to Shelby and I released her from her misery. When her little girl reanimated, I shot her also.
The murderer, Jazz Krieger, is now locked up in the town jail.
The question to decide on is will Jazz Krieger be our first permanently detained donor?”
This was involuntary manslaughter; there was no doubt in anyone’s mind on that issue. There were witnesses so the decision was unanimous.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jazz Krieger was prepped that afternoon for his first donation.
Scared and confused, he begged Carson to release him, promising to never come back.
“Hey man” he started. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I was just trying to get away from everything. All my family is gone.”
Carson had no sympathy. “Because of you we’ve lost some more of ours too” he flatly reminded Jazz.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” Jazz was almost in tears.
“Less than what you deserve. You actually are going to get a chance to make reparations. Or at least you’ll be making some lives around here a little more tolerable.”
Jazz had no idea what Carson was talking about and the cryptic answer only deepened his anxiety.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marcia Treethy greeted Dale when she walked into the sheriff’s office.
“Hi Marcia. How are you doing?” Dale smiled at her.
“SOS” said Marcia. Dale knew her favorite saying. It just meant ‘same old stuff’. She worked for twenty years in one of the largest hospitals in Phoenix, five of those in the trauma unit, before she decided she was ready for a quieter life. She had worked with Dr. Wiggens and when she approached him about a job, he hired her on the spot.
By nature, Marcia was a very no nonsense personality. It was one of the reasons Dr. Wiggins depended on her so much. Her dark hair, cut in a severe bob, told everyone “Don’t mess with me!” and people didn’t. Everyone who knew her, respected her and in a tense situation, there was no one more dependable and levelheaded.
Dale had learned long ago to appreciate her qualities. She had kept a cool head in so many extreme situations that would have gotten out of hand had she not. Through the years, Dale and Marcia had developed a deep respect for one another.
“So. Where’s my patient?” She knew the situation with the young man and she almost enjoyed the idea of poking him. She had no intention of being gentle. She felt deeply, the loss of Shelby and her little girl.
“He’s in cell five. I’ll walk you back there.” Dale led the way to the rear of the jail and Marcia followed.
In cell five, Marcia saw a young man who looked to be in his early twenties with a few days of beard growth and a panicked expression on his face. Although she knew what he had done to end up there she also knew that for some people, giving blood was absolutely terrifying. She could tell by instinct that this young man was one of them.
Marcia noted that the necessary equipment was already set up which, she was sure, didn’t ease his panic. He was handcuffed and strapped to a gurney. Then Marcia’s dark sense of humor kicked in and she struggled to keep a smile off of her face. He had broken out in a cold sweat.
‘He probably thinks were vampires’ she thought.
Looking sternly at Jazz she said “This will take less than 15 minutes if you cooperate. If you don’t, well…” She deliberately let her voice trail off.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, wide eyed with his voice pitch becoming higher as Marcia took out the plasma bag and IV from her black bag.
Unable to hold back, she said in her best Dracula accent, “We need to have your blood!”
Jazz lost it and started crying and begging to be let go. “Why?” he screamed.
“That’s none of your concern” Dale interjected. He
was actually getting a kick out of Marcia who didn’t let this side of her personality show that often.
Sweating profusely but knowing he would not get anything else out of them or get away, he resolved to accept what came. He just wanted to get it over with but he couldn’t help the whimpers that kept escaping as different scenarios were racing through his mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Half an hour later, Marcia packed up her things.
“Don’t forget to give him a glass of juice” she said to Dale in front of Jazz. “We need to make sure he can do the next round.” Marcia was really enjoying herself. Jazz visibly whitened.
When Dale brought the juice to Jazz, he asked if the other stuff, referring to the IV drip apparatus, was going to be removed. Marcia had left it just outside of his cell as a reminder that there was more to come.
“You’re not finished” was all Dale said and left.
Jazz just moaned and tried to keep the tears back that pushed forward.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dr. Wiggins met with Marcia after she had safely stored the pint of blood.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“The guy must have thought we were vampires” she couldn’t help but giggle. “He expected dinner and a movie and winds up bloodletting!”
“I don’t know about your sense of humor Marcia” the doctor said, smiling. “Oh well, it’s better than a shot in the head!”
“He’s healthy. His vitals were good, so I don’t see a problem” Marcia said matter-of-factly. She hadn’t been in the crowd on the day of the dusting so she wouldn’t be needing the blood, but she was grateful for the new pint safely stored. She had so many friends that this would benefit. They were the reason she stayed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
As inoculated people became infected, those who did not have deep roots in Walters, left.
Turners | Book 2 | 90 Degrees Page 8
