Wasp Canyon

by Danielle McCrory

  “I’ll take it,” Jessica said.

  Claire gaped at her. “You’re adopting the dead woman’s cat?”

  “If I can save even one living thing during this mess, I’m doing it,” Jessica said. “Besides, I’ve always wanted a cat.”

  Chapter 37

  Andrea Cleary sat with her hands resting on the kitchen table, tightly clasped. Jessica and Claire sat on the opposite side. A bag of Meow Mix cat food was in the center of the table.

  “Where’s . . . the cat?” Andrea asked.

  “He’s in my room,” Jessica said, “hiding under the bed.”

  “What kind of a name is Sushi?”

  “It’s Tofu. It was written on top of his carrier.”

  “Oh Jessica, I don’t know. You come home with this cat—apparently the pet of a murder victim? And then I find out you spent the afternoon at a police station.” Andrea shook her head. “Jessica, I don’t understand. You tell this . . . outrageous story about a . . . chupacabra? I just—I just don’t know what to say.”

  Jessica and Claire didn’t respond. They stared at the bag of cat food with blank expressions. Meaty Morsels Your Cat Will Love! the bag claimed.

  “Is it because of your father?” Andrea asked.

  Jessica looked up from the Meow Mix. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “This—this insanity. It’s because of your father—because of what happened to him?” Andrea watched Jessica with concern.

  Jessica looked at her mother and was startled to see how much she had aged in the past year. Andrea’s wrinkles had deepened, and dark circles had formed under her green eyes. Andrea had always appeared younger than she was, but now she looked her age—older even. Jessica felt a pang of guilt. Was some of this because of her?

  “Why would this have anything to do with Dad?” she asked.

  “God, I don’t know Jessica. You were doing so much better. And now—I don’t know. You’re talking about made-up monsters.” Andrea glanced at Claire, who was still staring at the bag of cat food.

  “I am not making this up, Mom,” Jessica said. “I got attacked and nearly killed a week ago. And I know what I saw. The police are wrong. There is something very dangerous in Wasp Canyon, and more people are going to die if someone doesn’t stop it.”

  “You think some sort of Mexican hell monster is attacking people! Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?” Andrea asked. “All this time—all this effort—trying to move on. And it’s all washed away by this one week of—awfulness.” Andrea dabbed at her eyes, smudging her concealer and revealing darkened skin underneath.

  Washed away, Jessica thought. She started thinking about flash floods, the walls of water tumbling through the washes and surging across roads. Cars trying to drive through the raging waters often got carried away. “All my progress hasn’t been . . . washed away,” she said.

  “That’s how I feel right now, though,” Andrea said. “All this work trying to heal and move on, and it’s all . . . ruined.”

  “I’m really sorry you feel that way,” Jessica said in a low voice. “It’s not my fault I got attacked, though. And I’m just trying to stop more people from getting killed. There really is something out there.”

  “Yes, a sick wolf. Not a blood-drinking hell monster.”

  “It’s a chupacabra!”

  Claire laughed. Andrea and Jessica turned to Claire, startled into silence.

  “Claire?” Jessica asked. “You ok?”

  Claire tried to stifle her laughter, but instead fell into another fit of giggles. “No,” she said, “I am not alright.” More laughter. “My best friend’s dad died. She went through this horrible depression. She finally starts moving on—then gets chased around by some sort of mythical beast.” Claire paused, trying to catch her breath through bouts of laughter. “And then somehow we’re at a police station taking custody of a dead woman’s cat. And now—now we’re sitting at the kitchen table discussing the existence of chuppy-wuppies.” Claire couldn’t speak anymore; the laughter had stolen all of her breath. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  Jessica and Andrea looked at Claire with concern.

  “Sorry, I don’t handle conflict all that well,” Claire said, her laughter finally trailing off.

  “They do exist,” Jessica said.

  “Jessica—” Andrea started.

  “Don’t,” Claire said. “Please don’t start arguing on my account.” She turned to Jessica. “You have to get this figured out with your mom, Van Helsing. After all, we can’t fight the vampires until you get your permission slip signed.” Claire fell into a new fit of giggles.

  Jessica and Andrea reluctantly returned their attention to each other. “This is happening because it is almost the anniversary,” Andrea said. “In three weeks it will be the anniversary of your father’s death. I should have known this would set you back.”

  “Something didn’t try to kill me in the desert because Dad died a year ago,” Jessica said.

  “It was a sick wolf. The police even said so.”

  “Then why can’t they find it? If it was so sick it would be dead by now.”

  “Not if it got antibiotics,” Claire chimed in.

  Jessica and Andrea looked briefly at Claire, then back at each other.

  “You need to go see Dr. Wyatt. I know your last appointment didn’t go well. That’s why I asked for Claire’s help.”

  “You did what?” Jessica looked from her mother to Claire.

  “It’s true,” Claire said. “She did ask for my help. But then Mr. Merlot told me that the best way to help you would be to go along with this whole damn thing. I didn’t think it would land me in a police station taking custody of Soybean the cat, though.”

  “Tofu,” Jessica corrected her.

  “Right,” Claire said. “Tofu.”

  Andrea sighed heavily. “I really don’t know what to do at this point. You need to go see Dr. Wyatt. Maybe she can talk some sense into you.”

  “I don’t want to see her anymore. She doesn’t believe me.”

  “If the police and your therapist have come to a rational explanation, why do you refuse to accept that that is what happened?”

  “Because they didn’t see what I saw.”

  “Ok,” Andrea said, defeated. “I guess we will have to agree to disagree for now.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Jessica looked down at the Meow Mix. “Do I get to keep the cat?”

  “I think Tofu has been through enough trauma for one lifetime. He is welcome to stay. But you are in charge of taking care of him.”

  The sound of digging drifted out from the bedroom. Jessica, Andrea, and Claire turned and looked down the hallway. Tofu was using the litter box.

  Chapter 38

  Tucson Daily Tribune

  Another Slain in Tucson’s Wasp Canyon Estates

  By Audrey Summers

  August 9, 2018

  The police are baffled following the death of another one of Tucson’s elite in the Wasp Canyon Estates community. Ava Cuthbertson, age seventy-two, was found outside of her Wasp Canyon residence yesterday afternoon. The police were led to the home after Cuthbertson failed to arrive for a dental appointment that she had confirmed the day before.

  The Northwest Police Department sent an officer to the Cuthbertson residence for a welfare check, which was when Cuthbertson’s body was discovered. Detective Carl Moser declined to comment when asked for details regarding Cuthbertson’s condition or possible leads in the case. From what the Tucson Daily Tribune has gathered, Cuthbertson was brutally attacked in the backyard of her estate. She had already succumbed to her injuries by the time officers arrived at the residence. It is suspected that an animal was involved in the attack.

  Just six days ago, Cameron Jasper, also of Wasp Canyon Estates, was attacked and killed by what police believe to be a wild animal. Jasper was found on the Wasp Canyon hiking trail located near his residence. Both Jasper and Cuthbertson were horribly mauled and it is believed that both
died during their attacks. It is suspected that the same animal is responsible. The police do not have any leads as to the type of animal involved or its current whereabouts. Based on the locations of the two victims, it is suspected that the animal resides somewhere along the base of the Santa Catalina mountain range.

  Other residents of Wasp Canyon Estates are on edge, demanding the police find the perpetrating animal and destroy it before more people are attacked. Jerry McElroy, software engineer and resident of Wasp Canyon Estates, said, “I don’t see how the police have zero leads on this thing. Two of our community members are now dead, and the police aren’t doing anything about it. I have my kids to worry about, and my wife is terrified to even set foot outside the front door. This situation needs to be taken care of now.”

  Ava Cuthbertson, originally of New York City, moved to Arizona in 1989 . . .

  Chapter 39

  Jessica set the newspaper down on the bed, making sure the aerial shot of the backyard was face down. She didn’t want to look at the tarp stretched over the smears of red anymore. Claire was sitting on the floor, dangling a string at the foot of the bed. Tofu was somewhere underneath, and it appeared the string was not going to be enough to lure him out. Jessica excused herself and headed across the hall to the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jessica sat on the floor of the shower, her legs stretched out in front of her and her left foot carefully positioned on the tub’s porcelain. The sound of the running water was soothing—a white noise that seemed to envelope her and make her feel safe. The steady hum drowned out all other sounds in the house. She could no longer hear her mother moving plates around in the kitchen, and could no longer hear Claire cooing to Tofu to come out from under the bed. It was just her now, safe and warm in the confines of the shower. Like a womb, she thought. Or a coffin.

  Jessica sat under the hot cascade of water, steam hovering in the air above her. She stared at the ruins of her left foot, transfixed by the colorful, lumpy mess that used to be smooth, unblemished flesh. The skin around the ankle was discolored and patchy. The bruising was now a swirling maroon, and it appeared to be on its way toward a sickly yellow. The three broken toes still held on to the black and blue color scheme that her ankle had been originally. Jessica thought the smashed toes looked like little charred sausages. The toenails on all three were black. The doctor told her the nails would most likely fall off, and she suspected they were now well on their way. Jessica tried to wiggle the toes, winced, and stopped.

  Her ankle throbbed dully. Without the compression from the boot, her ankle and foot were already beginning to swell again. The pain was slowly decreasing overall, although a lot of that seemed to be due to the boot. It offered a great deal of support to her ankle, and it definitely kept the swelling down. She wondered if she would have to wear it forever—unless she agreed to surgery, that is. The prospect of surgery was becoming less and less desirable—not that the idea had ever been appealing. But now she had so much work to do, especially if the police didn’t get on board. She couldn’t afford to be laid up in some hospital bed attached to a bunch of tubes while the chupacabra wreaked havoc across northwest Tucson. Who knows how far it would make it before the rains stopped?

  Her follow-up appointment with Doctor What’s-His-Name was next week, and she was already dreading the day. He had told her she might be able to avoid surgery as long as she wore the boot religiously, which she had. But as she sat in the shower and stared at the damage below her left calf, she wasn’t so sure it would be enough. It looks like monsoon clouds during a sunset, she thought. She didn’t want to look at it anymore. She wanted to put the boot back on—not just because her ankle ached less with it on, but because she wanted to conceal the mess that was her left foot. A mess that was caused by some unthinkable evil that was stalking the desert landscape only five miles from where she now sat.

  At least she was alive. And she could walk. You know who never gets to walk again? That woman under the tarp. Jessica couldn’t help but feel a connection to the Wasp Canyon victims. After all, she would have been one of them if she hadn’t managed to make it out of that canyon.

  Jessica turned the water off, grabbed the towel that she had left within reach on the top of the toilet, and dried off. She took extra care while reattaching the boot, making sure to correctly fasten and inflate it until her ankle sat snuggly within its depths.

  Back in her room, Claire was sitting on the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. Tofu was nowhere in sight, presumably still under the bed. The Tucson Daily Tribune was lying face down on top of the flowery bedspread. A beam of golden sunlight splashed across the newspaper, making it look like it was part of a display in a department store window.

  Jessica gestured toward the newspaper with her chin. “Does it say anything we don’t already know?”

  “Nope,” Claire answered. “Just that people in Wasp Canyon are scared. Some guy’s wife is afraid to go outside.”

  “Yeah, I heard him talking on the news earlier,” Jessica said, and dropped onto her hands and knees. Sunlight had spread across the bedroom floor, and the warmth of the carpet felt good against her healing palms. She lowered herself to her belly and turned her head so she could peer under the bed.

  “Come on, Tofu. We’re not going to hurt you,” Jessica cooed. She made a few kissing noises, but to no avail. Other than litter box trips, Tofu had refused to leave his hiding spot under the bed. Jessica started placing the food and water bowls underneath to make sure he would at least eat something. Which he did. Scared or not, Tofu certainly did have an appetite. Jessica took that as a good sign.

  She pushed herself up from the floor, keeping her left foot hovering in midair so she wouldn’t put any pressure on her charred-sausage toes. She sat down in the warm, sunny patch on the floor and crossed her right leg. The left leg she kept out in front of her, the CAM boot big and black against the cream-colored carpet. “Any luck with our new guest?”

  Claire shrugged. “He made a trip to the litter box while you were in there. Did an admirable job of covering up his business. Then he went back under the bed.” Claire smiled a little. “He really is more fur than cat. I’ve never seen one so fluffy. What do you think he is?”

  Jessica leaned forward and peaked under the bed again. Tofu stared at her, his green eyes twinkling. “Persian, I think,” Jessica said, sitting back up. “I hope he ends up liking me.”

  “You did good,” Claire said. “Taking him in, I mean. That poor thing would have been just terrified in some noisy shelter, wondering why his momma left him there.” Her voice sounded sad. She offered Jessica a weak smile.

  “He’s going to be alright. We’re gonna take good care of him.” Jessica said, studying Claire. “Are you ok?”

  “I’m—” Claire paused. She looked like she was trying to find the right word. When she couldn't, she said, “Fine. I’m fine.”

  Jessica brushed a few wet strands of hair from her face. “I’m wondering if I put too much pressure on you. Or asked too much of you or something. Telling you all that, and then making you go to the police station.” She let out a long sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you into all of this in the first place.”

  “I said I was going to help.”

  “I know, but I kind of feel like I forced you into it.”

  “What happened to you in that canyon was awful. No one can deny that. But do you really think . . .” Claire trailed off and looked out the window. The sky was pale blue, not one cloud blemishing its expanse. The clouds would come later, though—this summer it seemed they almost always did.

  “Think what, Claire?” Jessica asked, leaning to the side to regain Claire’s attention.

  Claire turned and faced her, her expression grave. “Can you just hear me out with what I’m about to say? Please just listen, and think about it before you answer?” She looked at Jessica, a deep line of worry stretched across her brow.

  “Um, ok. Yeah, I can do that.”
Jessica said. The surgical glue holding the cut together on her right shoulder shimmered in the morning sunlight.

  “When your dad died there was nothing you could do. I mean, you were there for him of course. Took care of him, held his hand. But you couldn’t stop what was happening to him, no matter how much you wanted to. You couldn’t fight the cancer, or stop it. It was this enemy that you had no control over. Now, literally almost a year since he died, you have stumbled across this monster—this killer thing that you can fight. Do you think . . .” Claire let out a shaky breath. “Do you think that you are wanting to vanquish this demon so badly because you couldn’t vanquish the one that got your dad? That the reason you are so hell bent on stopping this thing is because you weren’t able to stop the thing that killed your dad?”

  They sat in silence, Claire on the edge of the bed and Jessica on the floor. They looked out the window at the cloudless sky, listening to the hum of the air conditioner.

  Jessica’s voice cut through the silence. “I couldn’t save my dad. I couldn’t stop what was killing him. And I know that it isn’t my fault. But Claire,” Jessica leaned forward and took Claire’s hand, “this thing is real. I did not make it up, and I did not imagine it. This thing is out there, and it already killed two people. And I know, deep down in my gut, that it is going to kill more. What about that family out there—the one from the news? They have kids. What if it goes after them next?”

  Claire looked at Jessica. She held Claire’s hand, waiting. Claire looked at the laceration on Jessica’s arm, the yellowing bruises, the black, clunky boot. “Alright,” she said. “I believe you. And I’m going to help you.” Jessica squeezed her hand, and Claire squeezed back. An uneasy silence filled the room, out of place in the brilliant morning light.