by Maaja Wentz
“Easy there, lean on me.” The police constable took her right arm and pulled it around his broad shoulder, at the same time wrapping his other arm around her waist. “Do you think you can walk? My car’s back at the road.”
“I’ll be okay,” She wobbled as the world spun, forcing her to lean into him more than she intended. Beside her he felt warm and solid. At another time, she might daydream about a uniformed hero come to rescue her, but she was too suspicious to enjoy it. For all she knew, he would take her straight to Donna.
They walked until the trees thinned and she could see a car passing on the road beyond the cemetery gates. She wriggled away from him. “I’m okay now,” she lied, “just a bit stiff from sleeping on the ground. Can I go back and get my bike?”
“Your bike?” His expression was perplexed.
“Campus isn’t far.”
“Let me give you a ride. You’re covered in scratches and that bump on your head needs treatment.”
“But my bike . . .”
“I’m sorry but the bike is a write-off. Come with me.” He took her arm and steered her westward through the trees.
“Oh. Good thing I don’t love cycling.” It was the first true thing she’d said to the constable. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her face, in case he could tell. Under interrogation, she’d probably crack and tell this handsome policeman everything. If he was a Mundane, the truth would earn her psychiatric attention. If he was Old Family, who knew where his loyalties lay?
They went through the Western Gate and walked to his patrol car. In a moment, he would lock her in the back, behind a heavy grill. It might as well be a jail cell. She had to get away before she was trapped.
“Wait.” She retreated a few steps and unzipped the Hazmat suit. As she stepped out of it, the wind cut through the jacket she was wearing underneath. She turned the Hazmat suit inside out so any fungus spores on it wouldn’t get airborne and infect him.
“Let me take that.”
“It’s dirty,” she ran a hand through her hair, knocking out some dry leaves. “I have to return it. Thanks for offering but I’d rather walk back.”
He shook his head. “You can sit in front.” He took her hand and helped her in like a gentleman. Was that to put her off guard? She had lost. She sat back, and her eyelids drooped.
Tonya sat bolt upright and forced her eyelids open. It seemed right to trust this handsome policeman and let him look after her. Besides, her eyes felt so heavy . . .
Her mind drifted away from Donna and gravedigger fungus, and Rudolph’s creepy voice in her head. It would be so sweet to relax and let herself sleep.
As the car pulled out she was hardly conscious of it moving until he said: “So, describe this equipment again?”
Her eyelids snapped open. His stern tone meant she was in trouble. With effort, she ordered her thoughts. “Up in the trees. There were wires and boxes and blinking red lights.”
“Uh huh. And why were you riding your bike in the cemetery?”
“It was Halloween. I’m too old for trick-or-treating.”
“I also want to know how you got a hospital Hazmat suit.” He shot her a crooked smile then looked back at the road. “I’m going to take you in and get a formal statement, but not until a doctor declares you fit. You really cracked your head.”
“The bike took most of it. No doctor necessary.”
“I’ll take you to the hospital, to get checked for concussion, before we go to the detachment.” His tone made clear that this was not negotiable.
What should she do? Tonya didn’t want to make a false statement, and she was afraid to face Donna at the hospital. Once she discovered what Tonya knew, the evil choir lady might schedule a lobotomy!
“I hate hospitals. Besides, I’m fine.” She moved her head around in a circle, pretending it didn’t make her woozy. “Can’t I give you my statement now?”
“Sure.” He pointed up the road to where an ambulance was parked on the shoulder. “First let’s get you a second opinion.” He pulled alongside and rolled down his window to talk to the driver.
“This girl hit a tree on her bike. Real feisty. Says her head doesn’t hurt but . . .” He shrugged and got out of the car to talk to the driver.
Tonya wanted to flee, but she couldn’t outrun this young cop. Just turning her head made her stomach heave.
When he had finished talking the officer returned, offering her a hand out of the car. “They’re just going to make sure you’re okay.”
“And if I don’t want to go?”
“Then come with me.” His smile was tight. “You need to report to the station for questioning, as soon as you feel better.”
“I do have a headache. Maybe they should check me, to be sure.”
He nodded and tried to take her hand again. Tonya insisted on climbing into the back of the ambulance without help and stood, pretending she wasn’t desperate to lie down on the gurney.
“Lie down, I have to strap you in,” said the attendant.
Lying down sounded too tempting. “I’m not sick,”
“Sorry, but you have to. The less your head moves the better.” The ambulance still wasn’t moving. “Now.”
“Please? I hate being strapped down and I hate hospitals.”
“Sorry. I need you strapped in. You look kind of green.”
Tonya didn’t see a way to refuse that wouldn’t put this nice young ambulance attendant into save the uncooperative victim mode. She was familiar with it from lifeguarding, and feared the restraining moves he might execute to force her compliance.
“All right, but don’t strap me in tight. It makes me claustrophobic.” That at least was true.
The minute she lay down, Tonya’s eyes closed. She was on the verge of passing out. As the ambulance pulled onto the road, she allowed herself sixty seconds with her eyes closed as the vehicle did a U-turn. Forcing them open, she craned her neck to look the attendant in the eye.
“So, do you live around here?” The attendant was muscular but not nearly as handsome as the police constable.
“I’m from a village North of Loon Lake. Do you know Rural Route . . .”
She let him describe the tiny intersection closest to his father’s farm, but she was more worried about the dwindling distance between the ambulance and the hospital. Surreptitiously, she loosened the straps each time he looked away, all the while encouraging the attendant to tell her about the horse he was going to buy someday.
“What are you going to call him?”
“I don’t know. That depends on what he’s like.”
The attendant seemed like a decent guy. She hoped he would get his horse one day, but when the ambulance stopped at a red light, she slipped off the far side of the gurney and shoved it at him.
She leaped from the ambulance and ran. Although she had pushed the gurney hard, Tonya figured the attendant would be fine. She, on the other hand, was so dizzy she could barely see where she was running. The horizon kept circling around her.
Straining to put maximum distance between herself and the ambulance, she tripped over her feet. Slow down. If she fell again she would pass out and they’d carry her away. Her only hope was to duck into a backyard before the driver got turned around.
At least she hadn’t leaped into farmland. Here, the houses were grouped along a handful of loosely interwoven streets. She sprinted across a lawn and found a chain link fence. She got her shoe tips stuck in and climbed over easily. Dashing across the lawn, she emerged between two houses and crossed a small street. She crossed another set of lawns and another street before she saw a shed where she could hide and catch her breath.
The darkness inside the shed tickled her nostrils and watered her eyes. The arterial stab, stab, stab, of pain in her temples dulled to a steady throb as she caught her breath. The shed was safe but also a dead end. This was a residential area to the northeast of the lake, nowhere near campus or friends who might give her a lift. The ambulance driver would spot her the min
ute she went near the highway, or tried to walk home.
Home. The cut grass scent of the shed triggered memories of Dad pushing the mower on Sunday afternoons. It worried her how he and Mom had suddenly moved, like refugees leaving everything behind. Tonya blamed Old Family magic but to what purpose? What did Donna gain by perforating her Hazmat suit? She hadn’t sent an ambulance to pick up Professor Rudolph’s body from the cemetery, but did she know it was walking around? No decent Mod supported death magic, but Donna’s family was more extreme than most. What might they support?
As the Sun rose on November 1st, Tonya slipped out of the shed and hopped on the first bus she saw. There were only a few bus loops in Loon Lake and this one would take her close to campus. She had made it through Halloween, but it was unclear whether she or the other students were infected with the eating disease. She suspected Aunt Helen knew something, as well as the lady at City Hall who had spoken to Tonya in a trance.
Why spread a supernatural disease? There were simpler ways to kill. And who were the real targets? Tonya hoped she could figure it out before the police realized she’d run off.
RIBS
Roberto pulled the comforter over his head to block the sun. He wasn’t ready to get up yet. His head was full of strange images. As he lay in the twilight between sleeping and waking, the last thing he remembered was lying in the forest attacked by roots. What a nightmare! He rolled over, sending pain screaming through his ribs.
It hadn’t been a dream.
He looked at his surroundings and saw Lynette, sitting at her study table.
“Morning,” he said.
“Hi, Baby. That was some weird scenario I found you in last night. At first, I thought it was part of Priya’s installation, until you tried to scream.”
“How did you get me out?”
“One strand at a time.” From the tabletop, she picked up a pair of heavy duty shears. The blades were stained green and black.
He sat up gingerly, trying not to move his ribs but each breath made him gasp.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “We should get that looked at.”
“No hospitals, no doctors.” Roberto remembered the hypodermic-wielding ambulance attendants.
He heard her stomach growl.
“Want to go for breakfast?” she asked.
“I am hungry, but it can wait.” Lynette sat beside him and moved in for a hug but her weight shifting the mattress made him wince.
“Sorry. Does it hurt that much?
“I’m fine.” He stood up and dusted himself off.
“Come into the bathroom. Let me look at that.” Lynette pulled tensor bandages out of the medicine cabinet. “Hold still but don’t hold your breath.”
Roberto didn’t cry out while she wound tape around his ribs, but he gritted his teeth.
She finished and frowned at him. “That won’t hold. We should go to the medical center.”
“No. I can manage.” He loved the look of admiration she gave him, as if refusing treatment made him a tough guy. Truth was, even if he’d broken his neck, he was afraid of being sent to the hospital. “Just give me a minute.”
Roberto stayed in the bathroom where Lynette had left the first aid kit. He had broken a rib playing soccer once and knew what to do. Looking at himself in the mirror, he carefully wound the tape tighter than Lynette had. He winced and swore, clamping his jaw with pain.
“Roberto, are you okay?”
That Lynette. What had started out like a fling felt so different now. The concern in her voice went right through him, pain and pleasure mixed. It hurt him to make her worry, but at the same time, her concern gave him a feeling of warmth. He burst into the bedroom anxious to reassure her he was fine.
“I must leave this town.” He grabbed a shirt off the floor, trying not to let the pain show on his face. “Come with me?”
Lynette’s jaw dropped, but then they kissed.
When they unclinched, Lynette said, “Let me drive. There’s an all-day pancake house by the highway. We can plan the trip while we eat.”
As they walked out of residence, Roberto sensed he might never feel this free again. There was something moving in the air, and it wasn’t just the cold breeze. Whispering below the surface of things, a voice called him back to the cemetery.
“After the pancakes,” he said, “I want to take you somewhere.”
“I don’t care where we go. I’m just happy you’re okay.”
ASLEEP AT THE WHEEL
Lynette settled into the vinyl booth, content to let morning sunshine warm her face through the window. She ate three stacks of pancakes with maple syrup, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a side order of home fries, all without saying a word to Roberto who was doing the same.
Lynette ate everything on her plate, then put a hand on her aching stomach and looked up at her boyfriend.
Roberto grinned. “I can’t believe you ate all that.”
“The server is staring at us.” Lynette stifled a giggle. “I just ate my calories for a week.”
“Is that all? How about another round?”
She beamed. “Sure.” Pancakes were like drugs and she couldn’t get enough.
Outside the restaurant, Lynette headed for the driver’s side of her car, but Roberto insisted on taking the wheel.
“But your ribs. Aren’t they too sore?”
“I want to take you on a drive through the country.”
“Around here every drive is through the country. What are you up to?”
“Nothing. I’m taking my Querida to look at the fall colors. The leaves don’t turn gold and red like this back in Lima.”
“Oh, all right, you drive, but don’t fall asleep behind the wheel. I see you yawning after all those pancakes.”
“No te preocupes. I know what I’m doing.”
Roberto drove them north of town, pointing out cows and horses as if he’d never seen them before. The repetitive scenery on top of a huge breakfast, made Lynette’s eyelids heavy. She would just close them for a moment. Roberto would be okay, unless he fell asleep and went into a ditch. Maybe she should stay awake to watch over him. Maybe . . .
The next time she opened her eyes they had circled back south. They were on Kenny Road, crossing the bridge into Loon Lake Village. At the Herbal Healing Shop, Roberto slowed, and she expected him to turn into the parking lot. Instead, he drove across the field between Kenny Road and the cemetery. The grass was short, but the jarring movement and the food straining her stomach made her bilious. How could he drive over rough ground with cracked ribs? They were halfway to the cemetery fence when she could take no more.
“Stop! You’re wrecking my car!”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Lynette looked at Roberto, who stared straight ahead with unfocussed eyes. It was like he was possessed! The doors were locked. Stealthily, she undid her seatbelt and slipped her hand over to release the door.
Roberto was fast. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm to push her into her seat.
“Ow! Let go of me! Stop the car!”
“Go back to sleep.” He let go her wrist and started patting her shoulder. “Everything will be okay.”
“Not if you ruin my suspension.”
Without slowing, he looked at her with glazed eyes. “Oh, Querida, your car no longer matters.”
TOOTHY
Tonya looked out the window, relieved to see no police cars or ambulances driving in the next lane. The bus swayed as it moved, sending her head in dizzy circles. To avoid closing her eyes, she concentrated on the problem at hand. Tonya wanted to speak to her aunt. Aunt Helen could tell if the eating disease was a deliberate curse, and might know how to counteract it.
Tonya wished she had powerful Mod or Trad friends to help her. She feared a malevolent spell caster had used death magic on a gravedigger plant, and its telepathy was getting into people’s heads and compelling them to gorge themselves. It wasn’t too hard to see what would happen n
ext. Gravediggers grew by absorbing dead bodies, and it was implanting hunger in people’s minds, just as Professor Rudolph’s voice had spoken in hers. The hunger, which she had also felt, would make them eat more and more so that when they died and were buried, it would have plenty of fat to absorb from their corpses. Tonya shivered. How could someone defile the Ash Tree to create such a monstrosity?
For hundreds of years, her ancestors had been burying their dead near the Ash because the recent dead were full of dark magic. Without the tree to purify the bodies of dead magic users, all sorts of evil could rise from the cemetery. It was the price of magic, but Mods didn’t care since it didn’t have to be paid in life. What did it matter to them if leftover power somehow infected the ground like pollution, causing unpredictable effects?
This dangerous power was something Mods and Trads quarreled over. It could be harnessed by death magic if it wasn’t dispelled by the Ash. Somebody had used it to raise Professor Rudolph from the dead and set him walking, casting his voice right into her head. It was everything the Trads feared.
Tonya hadn’t been invited to City Council meetings where Trads and Mods argued over the rules, but her mother and aunt had similar debates.
“I’m with Mayor Thornton,” Mom had said. “What happens if Mundanes find out your cures work and declare Loon Lake a miracle town like Lourdes?”
“I could help more people,” replied Aunt Helen.
“While we get trampled by outsiders, asking you to make the lame walk or cure their cancer.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“Am I? What will we do when some Mundane offers your Mod friends so much money that they agree to bring back their dead loved ones?”
“They would never do that.”
What made the uneasy Mod-Trad truce possible was the historical pattern of Mundanes who feared magic and burned or hung anyone who used it. Nobody in Loon Lake could ignore the Salem Witch Trials or the Spanish Inquisition, and nobody was naïve enough to think similar things couldn’t happen again.