After the End: Survival

by Stebbins, Dave

  "Pete, we've got a problem. We found a little girl's body yesterday along Palo Duro Lake just northeast of the city of Canyon. She'd been beat up pretty bad and her belly slit open. She hadn't been dead long. There was a campfire made close by. The coals were cold but they were fresh. A couple of kids from Canyon discovered the body. Just dumb luck they found her before the critters did.

  "We have nothing to go on yet," the sheriff continued, "we found her clothes, but that's about it. Maybe some foot prints, but it's been dry lately, and there weren't many places you could find a foot print, and with all the people tromping around there, you know, the two boys, their families, their friends..."

  "Their friends?"

  "It's a small town," said the sheriff, with a single shrug of his shoulders and an outward turning of his hands. "People don't always think to call the law first thing anymore." He sounded a little miffed.

  "Anyway, Pete, look at the body and see if you can determine cause of death. Doc Flood's forty miles north of town at Fritch, tending to some old boy who got thrown off a horse and's probably paralyzed. Besides, he's not real keen on doing anything like autopsies anyway. ‘Rather spend my energy on the living,’ he'll tell me. Pete, we really need your help on this one. And I'll tell you something else. This little girl may not be the first."

  CHAPTER 5

  Pete drove the sixteen miles to the Canyon hospital at a sedate thirty miles per hour. Only the southbound side of I-27 was still negotiable by car; the two northbound lanes narrowed with high weeds and small trees. He waved to the twenty-five or thirty people he passed, who were either walking, bicycling, or on horseback. His waves were returned, folks recognizing his SUV even if they didn't know him personally. After the Change, gasoline was easily obtained. Survivors were able to siphon gas from abandoned vehicles and pump it from buried fuel tanks at service stations. After just a few months, though, the gasoline began going stale. Cars quit running. The Mayor located existing cars and trucks that had been converted to natural gas and hired a mechanic to keep them running. Natural gas flowed under pressure from gas wells north of town. A couple of petroleum engineers became wealthy operating the wells. Separating impurities from the gas was not difficult.

  Located two blocks east of the campus of West Texas A&M University, Palo Duro Hospital was now a combination clinic, church and community hall. It had an intermittent source of electricity: one functioning wind generator from the nearby "windmill farm" formerly operated by the university. The other six wind machines had been spirited away from the site by the self proclaimed mayor of Amarillo, Gary Blakely.

  At the hospital, Pete was met by the Canyon constable, David Rodriguez. Short and stocky, David had grown up in nearby Umbarger. The lawman's nose had been broken several times, leaving him with an almost concave face and a low, nasal voice. First time meeting him some folks thought David was a little slow. They always changed their minds. Pete considered him intelligent, methodical, and probably the most independent law enforcement man in the area.

  The two men shook hands at the hospital entrance.

  "She's in the lab. It’s a little cooler in there. Trying to slow decomposition. Been about twenty-four hours since we found her." David spoke with a slow Texas drawl.

  The body was in a room on the north side of the building laying on a metal gurney. She was covered with a single white sheet. A screened window provided some air circulation. David walked over to the gurney and pulled off the sheet. He carefully folded it and put it on a shelf. He walked to a chair and sat down, folding his arms across his chest.

  "Let me know when you need to turn her."

  Pete walked to the girl's side. Looking first at her face, he was drawn to the fixed stare, blue lips parted with a gray protruding tongue, dried blood from both nostrils. Her face was swollen and misshapen. A huge incision had been made, running from the sternum to below the navel. Taking a deep breath, he began taking notes.

  "Subject is female, Caucasian, about thirteen years of age...”

  Finishing his assessment, he turned to the constable.

  "Death was probably due to strangulation. I think the abdominal cut was made after death. She's been raped and sodomized. That's about all I can tell you.

  "OK. Here's all we found at the scene." David opened a plastic bag and removed a pair of jeans and a light blue cotton shirt. "This was it. No shoes, no socks, no underwear. Pete, if it's all right with you, I'll get a preacher and a few other folks and we'll bury her this afternoon."

  "No problem."

  They walked outside into the sunshine. David handed Pete a manila folder. Inside was a penciled drawing of the girl's face, her dark eyes calm, her long hair to one side as though blown by the wind.

  "David, this is incredible. She looks like she's getting ready to talk. Where'd you get it?"

  "A tenured professor of art. He lives here in town. I thought you could use it."

  "It's perfect. David, I'd like to visit with the two boys who found her. And maybe have you take me to the place so I can look it over."

  "Sure. The sheriff said you might want to do that. Those boys are neighbors and it's dinnertime. I figure they'll be putting on the feed bag about now. If you're up to it, we might do the same. Yolanda makes a pretty good stew."

  Pete nodded. "That'll work. I'd be much obliged for the meal."

  Pete followed the red pickup truck for the short drive to David's home. They stopped along the way, David going to the door of two adjoining houses to let the boys’ parents know they'd be back "in a little bit" to question the youngsters.

  David's house was a brick ranch style home on 8th Avenue in the southwest part of Canyon. The mostly brown grass showed signs of having been mowed. Inside the house Pete was introduced to David's wife, Yolanda, and their year old daughter. Yolanda was dark, thin, and a little taller than her husband. Her black hair was plaited in a single braid. She greeted them both with a smile.

  "My cousin Mary told me about you. She lives over by Quail Creek. You helped her get rid of her bladder infection. She hasn't had any more trouble, but she doesn't like drinking all that juniper tea. I tried some and it was terrible. I don't know how she drinks it. I haven't ever had a bladder infection and I hope to God I never get one. I drink lots of water, and I always wipe from front to back." She paused for a second. "Why don't men ever seem to get bladder infections?"

  Pete was taken by surprise. "Uh, I think it's because the urethra, that tube that comes out of the bladder is longer and not so close to the, uh, anus."

  "Hmm." She didn't sound convinced. "OK. A friend of mine once got a kidney stone, and she said it was worse than having a baby." Yolanda continued her verbal onslaught while she served the meal, which was excellent, consisting of beef stew and cornbread. It had been cooked outside off the back porch in an electric oven modified to heat from wood. They'll be lucky to get six months out of that stove, Pete thought, simultaneously realizing there was no shortage of unused electric stoves. While the men ate, Yolanda kept their bowls full while stuffing tamales (‘You need to come by for supper tonight, Pete.’) and played with the baby, who spent the time contentedly in a playpen a few feet away.

  "Isn't it terrible what happened to that girl? I sure do hope y'all catch whoever it is that did it. That person should not be running around. Pete, what are you growing in your garden this year?"

  The quick change in subject took Pete by surprise.

  "Well, it's mostly herbs. I don't have the time to be messing with vegetables. I do have a few tomatoes and potatoes. And so many people end up with a surplus I don't ever seem to lack having enough of everything else."

  "You're sure right about that. Last year I know I put up enough. We're still eating 'em, and I'm ready to start canning again already. I got some carrots last month more than a foot long. Onions as big as baseballs. You play much baseball, Pete?"

  Pete's mouth was full, so he just shook his head. Yolanda took it from there. David just ate, never saying a word, a l
ittle smile on his face.

  "Well I guess you know about the baseball teams that have been playing this summer. My David, he plays shortstop for the Canyon team. They call themselves the Buffaloes, which I think is kind of silly, 'cause there ain't too many animals stupider than a buffalo, and my David, he sure ain't stupid," she said, putting her hand on David's shoulder and squeezing it.

  "But baby, you know I'm crazy . . . about you," said David.

  "You're just saying that because I made you stew today." Yolanda gently slapped David's outstretched hand, which was making it's way up the back of her leg.

  "No, baby, it's because of the tamales we're having tonight."

  "You just better behave yourself, boy, or you might not be getting any of anything tonight." David just grinned.

  "Yolanda, this is the best stew I've had in a long time," said Pete, wiping his mouth.

  "Well thank you. My mother taught me how," and for an instant, a cloud came across her face. "A long time ago," she added, and her face cleared. "You come back and see us again real soon. You got a girlfriend?"

  "Uh, no."

  "You need one. I'll see what I can do."

  David kissed his daughter and wife goodbye, promised to be home in time for supper.

  "Quite a woman," Pete ventured, as they walked down the sidewalk to their vehicles.

  "Yep. She's like a Texas tornado. Funny thing. She won't forget a single word you told her today. Hell of a memory."

  "She can sure cook."

  David smiled. "Yessir, she surely can. And you better watch your ass because she's likely gonna come up with some kind of girlfriend for you."

  "Just so she knows I'm not partial to barnyard animals."

  "I'll tell her," David said, his face slipping back to a neutral expression, "but it may be too late."

  Pete and David drove east eight blocks to talk with the two boys who'd found the body. As they approached, Pete saw the youngsters in the front yard of a house with a huge elm. A tire hung from the tree on a rope. It was swinging in a wide arc and the two were throwing sticks through the middle. They stopped their play when the two vehicles pulled up to the curb.

  "Hey, guys," said David, walking up the sidewalk.

  "Hi, Mr. Rodriguez," answered the taller boy.

  "Hi, David," said the other, grinning at the look of reproach he received from his friend. Being on a first name basis with an adult was considered a little suspect.

  "This is Dr. Pete Wilson. We need to visit with you about that girl you found yesterday."

  Pete walked up to the two and shook hands.

  "Pleased to meet you," Pete said formally. "If it weren't for your sharp eyes that poor girl might still be laying out there." The boys looked pleased. Most often boys do not get appreciated for much of anything.

  "I was the one who saw her first," offered the taller boy, Shane. He was about twelve, blond hair that appeared to have been cut by scissors with a bowl used as a guide. He was shirtless and barefoot with a deep tan and calloused feet indicating he'd been that way all summer.

  "You wouldn't have seen her if I hadn't found her shirt first," groused Jimmy, brown haired, short and husky.

  "She was naked," Shane explained.

  "And her guts were hanging out," said Jimmy.

  "OK," Pete nodded, carefully considering this information. "Let's go over in the shade and sit down and talk about this."

  The boys sat cross legged under the tree on the hard earth. The men squatted on their haunches.

  "Now, I need you to tell me about yesterday, starting from the early morning."

  "Well, first off, we ate breakfast," Shane began.

  "I had pancakes," offered Jimmy.

  "Shut up," Shane said resignedly. "Then we dug up some worms and rode our bikes down to where the creek joins up with Palo Duro Lake." He paused, chewing the inside of his lip for a few seconds. “Then we parked our bikes and hiked east a little ways to a little pool coming off the lake. That's where we mostly like to fish."

  "Did you see anybody while you were hiking?"

  "Nope. Didn't see no one."

  "All right. What happened when you got to the pool?"

  "We started fishing. I caught a couple of catfish, and Jimmy caught one."

  This was Jimmy's cue.

  "I had to go take a leak. I don't ever piss in the creek." He looked over to Deputy Rodriguez for his nodded approval. "So I went over a little ways to a bush and saw a shirt kind of mashed down underneath it. I yelled over to Shane and we started looking around."

  "What made you want to start looking around? I mean, all you found was a shirt."

  "Well it was clean, like it hadn't been there very long."

  "OK. Then what?"

  "We just kept looking. Then Shane yells over to me."

  "I saw something white just off to the side of a clearing. It was her. That naked girl."

  "Then what?"

  "We came back home, I told Kay..."

  "Who's Kay?"

  "She's like my mom. I told her what we’d seen, so her and some of her friends and their kids went out and looked and then most of us came back and Kay got hold of Mr. Rodriguez."

  "You two have done all the right things. No one could have done any better." Pete paused. "Did you find any other clothes?"

  Shane answered. "Yessir. Somebody had made a little campfire in the clearing. We found a pair of jeans next to where the fire was."

  "Deputy Rodriguez showed me some clothes, the one's you found, and I was wondering about something. I didn't find anything in the pockets. Were you able to find anything?"

  The boys were silent for a few seconds, and it was Jimmy who spoke. "Yeah. Just a little old chain." He dug into his pants pocket. "This here."

  He handed a small gold crucifix to Pete. Diamonds had been embedded at the end of each arm of the cross, and one larger stone in the middle where the two arms intersected. The overall effect was a rugged yet delicate beauty.

  "Jimmy, this may be a tremendous help for us to figure out who this girl is. And if we can figure that out we'll be one step closer to figuring out who killed her. Can I keep this?"

  "Sure," Jimmy said, shrugging his shoulders, trying hard to sound nonchalant. "It's just an old chain. Kind of pretty though, ain't it?"

  "It is. Can you boys come out with us to the creek and show me where you found everything? You'll have your choice of vehicles to ride in." Pete knew this would be more than enough inducement for the two. With the scarcity of gasoline, a ride in any vehicle was a real treat. He hoped, too, it would take some of the sting out of having to give up the necklace.

  "All right!" With grins, and both boys jumped up, ready to go. There was a quick OK from the household adults and they were off. Shane rode with Pete, while Jimmy was in the deputy's pickup. The boys spent most of the three mile drive hanging out of windows, yelling back and forth to each other. Despite the trip's somber purpose, the boys' exhilaration was infectious. Pete saw David look in his rear view mirror, eyes crinkled, his head shaking.

  They drove past the university stadium and turned east. A rock slide from a bluff on the road's north side forced the group to park and begin hiking. Insects buzzed around them and the humid air felt close in the August heat. The youngsters didn't seem to notice. A trail ran parallel to the slow flowing stream. The two boys hiked along it with obvious familiarity. Huge cottonwood trees shaded their way, their gnarled roots exposed by the erosive action of the creek that would flood several times a year.

  After about a quarter mile, the boys stopped.

  "Right here's where we found her." Shane was pointing to a clearing about fifty feet from the small lake. As they walked to the clearing, the older boy suddenly jumped back. "Dang! I hate rattlesnakes." As he spoke, a thick, brown serpent leisurely moved across the path. Jimmy poked at it with a limb he'd been carrying. The serpent paused, tail rattling, and then continued across the trail into the underbrush.

  "It ain't nothin’ but a baby."


  "Then why didn’t you use a shorter stick," Shane said. "She was lying right over here. And right there,” he pointed, “is the bush where Jimmy found her shirt. Her pants were right here." Pete and David peered at the various points of interest. All Pete was able to see initially was the clearing, a few bushes, coals from a dead campfire and about a thousand potential hiding places for snakes. After several minutes, he spoke to the deputy.

  "Guess we should look around some."

  "You find any rattlers you think maybe witnessed something, I'll let you do the interrogating."

  The two men slowly walked in ever widening circles around the campfire. The boys watched for a few minutes and then went down the trail to the pool to look for crawfish.

  "David, what exactly are we looking for?"

  "Anything that doesn’t look normal. I looked around once before, after we carried the body out, but I didn't have time to give the in depth, professional search we're giving it right now. Just knowing your next step might be on an angry critter makes you pretty systematic. You're doing just fine."

  In fact, it was Pete who noticed the glint of sunlight on glass. It was a shiny mason jar lying in some brush about thirty feet from the clearing. Using a handkerchief, David gingerly lifted it and gave it a sniff.

  "Beer jar. Like what they sell at Holman's."

  "Think you can get fingerprints off it?"

  "If they're any on it I can. For all the good it'll do. State fingerprint bank is in Austin. On a computer. Which means it doesn’t exist anymore. What we do have is a local fingerprint file in Amarillo. About four hundred prints. Maybe we'll get lucky. If we get some usable prints off this jar and if we have them on file and if the owner of the prints is the perpetrator."

  "That’s a lot of ‘ifs.’"

  "Right you are, my boy, right you are." David was imitating W.C. Fields with a Tex-Mex accent. "But it's a place to start. Let's get to work."

  On the edge of a bluff overlooking the lake twelve hundred yards to the north, in the shade of a short juniper, sat a man looking through a pair of battered binoculars.