by Alan Ryker
Keith had been tall, well over six foot, with broad shoulders. He wasn’t bulky, but had that deceptive, steel-strong country muscle. You could see it in his hands and forearms, but even Jessica had been surprised when she’d seen him grapple a steer or casually hoist a sack of feed or armful of lumber up onto a truck bed.
This would be so much easier for him than it was for her.
But she had some of it. She stood five foot ten, and had the same broad shoulders. Sort of a swimmer’s build. She had long legs. Keith had, too. Enough so that her dad had occasionally called Keith “Stretch.” Jessica used to have the kind of legs that drove the boys crazy. The dirty old farmers didn’t mind getting an eyeful, either. She'd sometimes worn little blue jean cutoffs. But her legs were different now. They were still long, but her quads stood out and her hamstrings bulged. They might still be able to drive the boys crazy. She didn’t know because she didn’t go into town in little shorts anymore.
Her abs were cut deep, and muscles stood out on her arms and shoulders. She didn’t look like a bodybuilder, but she didn’t have the same softness she once had. That softness had been from her father. She’d lost it when she lost him, even in her face. The hard jaw line had taken over and been joined by a hardness of the eyes. She looked like a lean, hungry wolf—and she liked it, whether it was attractive or not.
The next morning, Jessica hurt. The adrenaline had masked the pain and exertion. She got out of bed and hobbled a few steps. Her knee had grown stiff overnight. She’d have to be careful on it.
She made the bed, smoothing the quilt her aunt Irene had made and replacing the decorative pillows. Irene had taught Jessica to cross stitch, but then had died when Jessica was young, and Jessica hadn’t kept it up. Jessica could remember her aunt sitting on the porch, stitching a country scene and humming tunelessly. Those were better times for everyone. Before the vampires, yes, but also Uncle Keith withdrew, and everyone had to worry about what he’d do next. Looking back, it wasn’t the vampires that first brought the dark times, but the hungry cancer that ate Irene.
Jessica put on a clean t-shirt, jeans and boots, then her shoulder holster with the .40 caliber and went downstairs. She’d learned that the world was a dangerous place, and that it didn’t usually give warning or time to prepare. In the kitchen she chugged milk from the container. She didn’t like to eat breakfast, but she knew she needed calories for the work ahead.
Years ago her father had switched to late calving. It was more natural, resulted in more healthy calves and mothers, and it cut down on feed costs before the grass turned green. Jessica carried on the same practice, and still had several pregnant heifers in the enclosed pasture behind the barn.
June mornings are beautiful in Kansas. Jessica stepped out onto the porch and breathed in the cool, sweet morning air. Before long the sun and humidity would have her sweating, but not yet. She walked around the side of the house and let the dogs out of the utility room. Seven hounds clumsily rushing to meet the day couldn’t help but put a smile even on Jessica’s stern face. They milled around her as she heaved a bag of dog food from under the cupboard and stepped outside to pour a quarter of it into a trough.
Next, she walked across the yard to the chicken coop and opened their door. She dumped some grain into their feeder, but at that time of year they’d barely touch it, preferring the bugs they rummaged for as they strutted around the yard. Jessica went through their nests and collected almost a dozen eggs. She ate a lot of eggs. She probably didn’t need the chickens, but they weren’t much cost or trouble, and she’d taken care of chickens her entire life.
Once she’d gone back to the house and put the eggs in the fridge, she went to the barn to check on the calving heifers. There were four left. Though separated from the rest of the herd, and though bulging to ridiculous proportions with the calves inside of them, they grazed as they always had. There were no expressions of beatific motherhood on their vacant faces.
Three grazed as usual, that was. One didn’t. From the way she moved, Jessica knew that it was time.
Mr. Nelson, the local vet, had already helped her deliver the malpositioned calves. The danger with the posterior presentation birth—or ass-first birth, as she called it—was that the umbilical cord would be severed or pinched off before the calves head had emerged, leading to suffocation.
The remaining calves were positioned to come out headfirst, and Jessica didn’t think she’d need any help with them. She led the cow into a grassy pen near the barn and tied it up. The calf’s snout and front hooves already protruded, and when Jessica put a finger in its mouth it sucked at it. That was good.
The heifer didn’t want to lie down. The calf seemed to be in the proper position, so the best place for the cow would be on the ground where she could push the easiest. Jessica took the rope, tied two half hitches around her and pulled it until she went to the ground. It seemed for a moment that she would stand up again, but she didn’t.
As the cow pushed, Jessica pulled, gently but relentlessly. When the cow rested, Jessica stopped.
But after some time, even Jessica’s young back began to get sore. The heifer was becoming upset, and the calf wasn’t yet breathing. Jessica finally realized that the calf wasn’t as well-positioned as she’d thought. She’d never dealt with hip lock before. Her father always had. The calf's hip bones were caught in the heifer's pelvis. It was halfway out, but the chest was still inside the birth canal, which constricted it so that it couldn’t breathe. The umbilical cord was probably still attached, but Jessica needed to readjust the calf to prevent injury to it and the mother.
Jessica had watched her father do this before. He’d explained to her that while the heifer’s pelvis was largest up and down, the calf was largest side to side. Jessica pushed the calf back in as far as she could and twisted it. Without letting go, she began to pull hard. The cow lowed, but Jessica kept pulling, and felt the calf’s hips slip free and slide forward. That was good, but the difficulty made it necessary to accelerate the process a bit, and though she didn’t like to do it, Jessica strapped a come-along to the calf and cranked it out until it could breathe.
The heifer was tired, so Jessica helped until the calf had completely emerged. Jessica thought that she might have to drag the cow up after the difficult birth, but she stood on her own and began licking the calf. Jessica left to get iodine from the barn to spray on the calf’s navel, and when she returned she found it already trying to stand. The mother kept nudging and licking the calf as it scooted and tottered around. As Jessica watched, the calf eventually managed to keep its hooves beneath it. The mother nudged it with her teats and the calf immediately began to suckle greedily. That was important, because the first milk contained the antibodies and nutrients the calf needed to survive its hostile new world.
Jessica watched the pair for awhile longer, though at that point she knew they would be fine. Her initial happiness faded as the scene brought back memories. She missed her mother. She didn’t know if her mother would appreciate that watching two cows reminded Jessica of her, but there it was.
Jessica finished the rest of her work and showered, and thanks to the long days still had a few hours of daylight left. She’d taken to grilling her meals when the weather allowed, and put a big tinfoil packet of vegetables and a steak on the gas grill on the porch. It really was the only way to prepare a good steak, and she liked the no-fuss cleanup, too. Hell, she thought a crusty grill made better tasting meat anyway.
Once she had her supper going, she went to check on the vampire in the storm shelter. She opened the door, and the contrast between the beautiful early-summer night and the incomprehensible hell of that concrete bunker gave her pause. The stench, for one thing. And the creature violently flopping and twisting with its hands and ankles tied behind its back. It flashed its fangs at her and twisted its face into an expression never meant to have been seen in this world.
But it was still tied securely, and Jessica walked down the metal stairs with the jug
of blood in one hand and her pistol in the other.
Pouring the thick cow blood into the pan, she watched the vampire’s eyes flick back and forth between herself and the meal. She looked the vampire over. Its breast had healed, and the exterior wound caused by the compound fracture of its femur had closed. She didn’t know if the bone had mended. There was no way to tell. The wait frustrated her, but she’d let it heal for another day.
She reached out with a boot to tap it on the thigh and the vampire strained such that it looked like it might yank its own arms off at the sockets to get to its feet. Thin muscles churned and jumped beneath the pale skin. Jessica chuckled and backed away, not wanting it to hurt itself. It would either be ready or it would die. It would probably die, regardless.
Outside the bunker, Jessica gulped down fresh air. She chained the metal door shut just in case, then went to flip her steak.
From the porch, she looked at her grain silo. There was still time, still daylight. She walked across the yard.
The grain silo stood near the barn. It looked like the Tin Man’s head, but twenty feet tall and made of galvanized steel. Anchors bolted it to a concrete foundation that lifted it a full foot off the ground, to prevent moisture from getting in with the grain. It had a door like a porthole, heavy enough to stand up to the pressure of tons of grain. A ladder ran up to the top hatch where grain was dumped in. Keith hadn’t had any grain in the silo when he died, and Jessica didn’t grow wheat like he had.
She started climbing the ladder up to the top, and immediately something hit the inside wall hard. Very hard.
At the top, Jessica opened the hatch. A screech shrilled up out of the darkness and something hit the wall again. Jessica let her eyes adjust until she could see the vampire pressed against the steel, away from the circle of light shining down onto the dusty concrete.
This was a male vampire. Any fat it had had on its body in life had melted away, but its wiry form belied its strength. Jessica thought that if it got much stronger it might bash its way out of the silo. But she wouldn’t let it get much stronger. It would get one more vampire. Then either she or it would die.
Jessica climbed down from her perch atop the grain silo and returned to her steak. The focus she’d been developing, consciously and unconsciously, was beneficial in most respects, but not in some. She’d spent too much time contemplating her enemy, and to call the premium cut of beef well-done would have been generous. She forked it onto her plate, and then gingerly picked up the foil packet of onions, potatoes and broccoli and plopped it down before it could burn her fingers.
She needed some water and started to set the plate down on the sideboard of the grill, then looked at the dogs. They lay in the grass and on the porch, watching the plate of steaming food with focus that made hers look like ADD by comparison. Each individual dog was a good dog, but sometimes together… If one thought that another would steal a bite, it'd steal the bite to get it first. They could lose their heads in their pack jostling.
Jessica decided that it was a good test.
She sat the plate down on the sideboard and watched the dogs' heads swivel between her and the food.
“Don’t you touch that plate,” she fairly growled. The dogs’ heads drooped from the guilt of just thinking such disobedient thoughts.
When Jessica returned, the plate of food sat unmolested. She smiled. Then she noticed a truck coming down the road. Standing at the porch rail, she watched it approach. It slowed and turned into her driveway.
Sheriff Wheeler.
He held his arm out the window and waved as he brought the truck to a stop in the drive before the porch.
“Some beautiful weather we’ve been having,” he said. Dressed casually in a short-sleeved western cut shirt, blue jeans and a ball cap, he pressed through the milling, barking hounds. Tall and lanky, he had a build similar to Uncle Keith's. But where Keith looked like slender bundles of steel rods, Bill Wheeler more closely resembled boiled spaghetti noodles.
Jessica thought for a moment that maybe that was too harsh. Maybe she still held some resentment for how he had treated her uncle, and how he had acted at the end. She wasn’t sure if he were a coward or not. He wasn’t fearless and overwhelming like Keith had been, but then again, Keith was dead. Like those boiled spaghetti noodles, Sheriff Wheeler gave. He adapted. He kept things in order and made sure he was still around to keep them in order. Keith had been as hard as they come, but that meant he had a breaking point, and when he reached it, he snapped.
“Good porch weather,” Jessica said. “I would have thrown another steak on if I’d known you were coming by.”
“You would have known I was coming by if you ever answered your damn phone.” Wheeler walked up the porch steps and hesitated for a moment. Jessica almost thought he would go for a hug, and felt a moment of panic before she stuck her hand out. Wheeler shook it, gripping it like she was a man. Giving her respect. “Why do you even pay for a line is my question?” he asked.
She laughed a bit. “I probably wouldn’t except I need to be able to get in touch with Mr. Nelson.”
“You do that late calving thing, don’t you? How’s that going? Still got any waiting to drop?”
“Just had a case with hip lock this morning.”
“They okay?”
Jessica nodded, “I’ve never dealt with it alone, but I’ve watched enough times. Mom and baby both doing good. Got three more to go.”
Wheeler sat against the porch rail and crossed his arms. “Most everyone else has been done for months. I just don’t know. You don’t think they’re too light when it’s time for market?”
“They’re lighter, but I save so much on feed. A heifer eats a heck of a lot to make milk for a calf. I can just let her graze. At the price feed is now, you’re gonna have more ranchers calving late.”
“You’re probably right.” Wheeler took off his cap and scratched his head. “You’re probably right at that.”
“All the hippy organic farms have been doing it forever,” Jessica said, smiling.
“I think that’s half the reason these good old boys won’t switch over. They think they’ll be growing sprouts and granola next.”
“Heck, with all the soy they plant around here, you can tell them they’re already growing tofu and veggie burgers.”
Sheriff Wheeler slapped a leg and laughed. “Oh no, I won’t be telling them that. I’d rather not get busted in the nose.”
“Sheriff, can I offer you anything to drink?”
“What have you got?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Milk and water. I’d love to be able to offer you a beer…”
“But you’re seventeen years old.”
“Yeah, and nobody’ll buy me any with you keeping an eagle-eye on me.” Jessica smiled, but she knew that wasn’t the reason. People were scared of her. She didn’t have friends anymore. She went into town to go to the co-op or to fill up on gas, and that was it.
“I’m doing good. But I’d like to talk to you. You mind if we sit down?”
Jessica gestured to a porch chair. She glanced at her already-dry steak getting colder and dryer, but sat down, too. The steak was a lost cause, anyway. “So what’s up, Sheriff? This isn’t a social visit?”
“Not exactly. How are you doing out here?” He leaned forward and looked concerned. Jessica couldn’t help but feel a bit condescended to.
“Doing good.”
“I worry about you out here by yourself.”
“I’ve been doing this my whole life.”
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, Jessica. Listen, I love farm life. I love this community. When I see a young person who can make a good life for themselves out here, I encourage it. Everybody’s rushing off to the city and forgetting how things should be. I honestly believe this is how we were meant to live.”
Jessica nodded. Wheeler continued. “But small towns hold grudges. None of what happened was your fault, but they’ll never let you live it down.”
“I don’t care about them.” Pleasantries were an effort for Jessica anymore. Atrophied muscles strained to put emotion into her face. She let them go. Her face went blank, and then the blankness went deep.
Only three people walked away from Dennis’s slaughter alive: Jessica, Bill Wheeler and Rachel Irving. Neither Jessica nor Sheriff Wheeler said anything about vampires. Wheeler let the vampire corpses burn up in the sun. Only Rachel insisted that Dennis was a vampire. But she had survived with a case of post-traumatic stress so severe that she had to be put in a home. Not the most reliable witness, so people weren’t exactly prone to believe her tales of fanged monsters. But they also distrusted Jessica, the only member of her family to emerge alive. Alive and changed. They hadn’t liked her uncle, and now they didn’t like her.
“It’s not healthy for a young person to live in total isolation. You got your GED. I seem to remember hearing that despite your lackluster grades, you did real well on the SATs and ACTs your junior year. Why don’t you go to school, decide if this is the sort of life you really want? Go live it up in Manhattan or Lawrence for a few years and get some perspective. You need to spend this time with people your own age, not out here with only dogs and cows to keep you company. I called KU and K-State and it’s not too late to apply, given your circumstances.”
“My circumstances, huh? I sometimes try to think of how to describe my life now. I’m going to have to remember that. My circumstances.” Wheeler started to speak, but Jessica cut him off. “I appreciate your concern. I really do. But this is where I belong. I can feel it. Sitting right here in this chair, where Keith sat. I can’t run away from this.”
“You know what this did to your uncle,” Bill said with obvious delicacy.
“And you were part of that, so have some respect.”