 
FOUR DEAD IN OHIO

A.M. SCHEITLIN

2018

Copyright © 2018 by Alexander Heeren

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Printing: 2018

Merced, California 95348

Dedication:

To the terrible, terrible State of Ohio...

...and with apologies to Sherwood Anderson
Tuesday, July 10th
Chapter 1

Life's a bitch, and then you die. Daisy did not know much about death, or life for that matter. However, she understood bitches. She was one after all; a three-year-old pudgy Rottweiler mix to be exact.

"Get that dog away from there!" the medical examiner snapped. Daisy was nosing the black plastic bags, each containing a corpse. She could not help it, the smells leaking from the bags were much too tempting. The young assistant M.E., with a healthy amount of trepidation, grabbed the large dog by the collar and dragged her away.

"Bad doggie!" said the assistant. Daisy gave a short yap back in return causing the assistant to jump back a foot. Daisy was a good girl, just curious. After all, it was not every day that the medical examiner carted away bodies from the Cunningham Rehab Center.

Although, of late, it had become a more frequent event. It had been a tough year for the rehab center, a tough year for all of Ohio actually. No one knew how to turn the tide of drug abuse that was running rampant across the state. Sadly, no matter how many patients died, there were always more addicts on the rehab's waiting list willing to take the vacated slots. The center had seen a lot of turnover, but four deaths in a day was a record, even by current standards.

Marion Cohen-Cunningham was the center's founder and Daisy's owner. She was a stern and harsh forty-five-year-old divorcee. When younger, she had an attractive and care-free appearance, but years of stress had done away with that. Her once-black hair was now ashen grey. Her husband had left her broken-hearted and destitute when he had fled the country after embezzling millions of dollars from his work. Marion had been only twenty-five and had to support both her two-year-old daughter and her felonious step-father. It was hard to say which of the two were more immature. Through years of hard toil, with no help from either the daughter or step-father, she had saved the family's mansion from ruin. However, in doing so, she had to turn the old building from a residence into a drug rehabilitation center. Her family was forced to share their home with dozens of troubled strangers. Such a home-situation brought its own litany of problems. This new rash of deaths was just going to add to Marion's troubles, and she was in no mood to put up with Daisy.

She gave a frusturated sigh. She did not need to watch the medical examiner bag the fourth body; she was already far too familiar with the process.

"Daisy!" she called, "come here!" Daisy happily trotted up to Marion who swatted Daisy on the nose with a rolled-up magazine. Daisy yelped in surprise, it had been just a hard enough to hurt her feelings. "Your not supposed to be in this part of the house. Go! Get outside! Some guard dog," Marion muttered as Daisy slunk out of the dormitory towards the kitchen.

Marion was right, Daisy was a poor guard dog. In that regard, Daisy was both a bitch and a failure. But it was unfair of Marion to place the blame all on Daisy. No one had bothered to train Daisy or take her to obedience school. Marion herself seldom paid any attention to Daisy except for scolding her. Therefore, Daisy was unaware that she was supposed to be a guard dog. She saw herself more in the role of a valued pet and center mascot. This is certainly how Richard, Marion's step-father saw her.

"Hey there, Daisy girl," Richard said. The eighty-year-old was standing in his underwear at the kitchen counter making himself a sandwich. He gladly gave Daisy a slice of bologna. Daisy happily gobbled it up and forgot about her rude treatment from Marion.

"Grandpa, you are not supposed to feed her people food. Also, you are supposed to wear clothes." Mattie Cunningham was Marion's daughter from her brief marriage. She was a younger version of her mother, but without Marion's harshness. She also lacked her mother's drive and ambition. Currently, she was unemployed and uninterested in anything but visiting with her friends at music venues. She even found planning her upcoming wedding to be a tedious chore.

"Looks like there was a lot of excitement this morning," Richard said ignoring his granddaughter. "I bet your mom is going to be more of a pill than normal."

Daisy yapped in agreement.

"Four dead? Isn't that a record?" Mattie asked as she looked in the fridge.

"I thought this place was depressing as a kid," Richard continued, "if someone told me then that it was going to get worse I'd have laughed and farted in their face." The house had been in Richard's family for several generations. Both the building and family had seen better days.

"Yeah, I bet it was awful being a senator's son."

"It was. Your great-grandfather was a real bastard."

"He wasn't my great-grandfather," Mattie said. Richard had been her grandmother's third husband.

"Well, by marriage. By marriage twice actually," Richard said counting on his fingers. "Your grandmother was first married to my brother, then my best friend, and then--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mattie said cutting him off. "I've heard the story before, in all of its incestuous detail." Mattie went and opened the kitchen door and gestured to Daisy. "Get outside. Go now!"

Daisy trotted out into the backyard and turned around to wait for Mattie or Richard to follow her out. Unfortunately, she was disappointed. Mattie shut the door after her. Daisy sat expectantly in front waiting to see anyone would change their minds and come out to play but soon she grew tired of waiting in the oppressive afternoon heat. With a canine sigh, she gave up on the humans and sought relief in the shade of the hedge that ran along the perimeter of the mansion's grounds.

Before she could settle into her nap, she was startled by the noise of a large metal object being thrown ontop of the hedge. Daisy snapped to her four feet and barked in surprise.

"It's only me," said a hoarse voice that belonged to Jordan Lewis, a tall bearded man in his early thirties. He was a familiar feature at the rehab center, and Daisy calmed at the sound of his voice. The noise that had woken Daisy was simply him disposing of the pink child's bicycle he had arrived on. Daisy ran up to Jordan to lick his face. He forced his way through the hedge snapping branches and then fended off Daisy's enthusiastic welcome.

"Oh, it's you," Richard said coming out of the house and greeting Jordan.

"What's up O.G.?" Jordan said.

"Fuck, I have to piss." Richard unzipped his fly and began to urinate in front of Jordan.

"Jesus Christ, old man!" Jordan jumped out of the way. "At least turnaround or something!"

"And deny you a glimpse of real man's cock?" Richard asked. He finished and zipping up his pants. "I think not. Here girl," he said extending his hands to Daisy. "Wash them clean!"

"Shit, you really are nasty," Jordan said as Daisy licked Richard's hands. Jordan took off his backpack and knelt on the ground, away from Richard's puddle. He began extracting half a dozen pill bottles."

"I don't need as much as last time," Richard said. "We lost four today."

"I got some new shit from my friend on campus," Jordan said paying Richard no mind. "Some experimental stuff. They're testing it out in their labs." He held up a pill bottle to show Richard.

"Experimental? Do I look like a scientist?" Richard asked. But Jordan knew him well enough to know that the old man was intrigued.

"Take it or leave it," Jordan said. "It's a seller's market." Richard gave in and began counting off a wad of bills when they were interrupted by the sound of an approaching car. Daisy barked excitedly as a black B.M.W. pulled into the driveway which curled around to the back of the house. The car honked the horn and a young man got out.

"Hello, Richard! Hey Jordan!" the man called out. He bent down to rub Daisy affectionately. Daisy was ecstatic, of all the people in her life, she loved this one the most. Only Todd Moreno, Mattie's fiancée, paid any real attention to her. Todd was a twenty-three-year-old graduate student at the local university. When Marion first learned of the engagement, she disapproved of the match. She had nothing against Todd personally but thought her daughter was too young to get married, after all, she did not want her daughter to make the same mistakes she had. Instead, she hoped that she could get Mattie to change her mind and give college a try. Especially as there was a world-class university just across town. However, eventually, even Marion had to admit that her daughter lacked the necessary discipline for higher education. It helped when she learned how wealthy Todd's family was. Having rich and influential in-laws could only be a benefit to the center, and in the end, Marion gave her blessing.

"Hey Todd," Mattie said as she came out the door and kissed Todd briefly. "Thanks again."

"No problem," Todd replied over the sound of the engine turning over as Mattie started the car. "I'll see you this evening?" His fiancé did not hear him over the stereo. The car lurched backward and sped out of the driveway, just narrowly missing the edge of the gate. Todd was left standing awkwardly behind.

Richard and Jordan had discretely completed their business and Jordan produced a handful of joints to share with the two other men.

"No thanks," Todd said waving away the offered joint.

"You're never going to see that car in one piece again," Jordan said. "I don't care if you are marrying her, that bitch drives like a crazy fucker."

Daisy barked at the word bitch, the only word she knew besides her name.

"Hey man, that's my fiancée. Besides, her's is in the shop," Todd said.

"Yeah, because she probably crashed it," Jordan reasoned. Todd did not try to deny it.

"Have you fucked my granddaughter yet?" Richard asked taking a long draw from his joint.

"Have I what!" Todd gasped. Jordan bent double in laughter that turned to coughing.

"Well, I'm worried about you two," Richard said. "Are you sure you know what you are getting into? Twenty-three is young to get married. I was twice that."

"Yeah," Jordan said recovered from his coughing fit, "but you were in prison. Probably getting it up the ass."

"That doesn't happen in minimum security," Richard said. "Not that much. Most of the old white men in there have erectile dysfunction. Now, my friend, Clarence, was a former Panther. He did some hard time. Shit, the stories he could tell..."

"I wouldn't want to hear them," Jordan said.

"It would do you good," Richard said, "at the rate, you're going, it's only a matter of time to you end up in the pen."

"You're scaring Todd," Jordan said taking the younger man by the shoulders. "He's a sensitive young man and a bit of a prude. I'm sure he going to have nightmares about prison-rape now."

"I'm not a prude!"

"He should be scared if he's marrying my granddaughter. It's a fucked-up family," Richard said and threw his joint into the grass. "Excuse me, I've got to take a dump."

"We're lucky," Jordan said to Todd as Richard left them. "At least he's going inside this time."

"What?" Todd asked, his mind still on prison-rape.

"Don't worry about it." Jordan lit another joint. "Just be careful where you step. What are you up to?"

"I just came by to drop off the car for Mattie to borrow. She had some concert that she wanted to see. Some local band."

"Sounds awful."

"Yeah. Luckily, she didn't ask me to go along." Todd rubbed Daisy's stomach while she happily rolled on her back.

Jordan smiled. "Sounds like the marriage is off to a great start."

"Screw you!" But he returned Jordan's smile. Despite their differences in age and temperament, Todd and Jordan could not help but like one another. Todd had met Jordan the first week of his master's program in sociology at the university. Todd's academic advisor was Professor Daryl Lewis, Jordan's father. Todd had been meeting with Professor Lewis on campus when Jordan had interrupted office hours to ask his dad for a loan. Daryl had been flustered and angry at the interruption and denied his's son's request. However, Jordan had hung around the sociology building and managed to catch Todd on his way out of the office. He had bummed a free lunch off him. Todd did not mind, as an aspiring sociologist, he was fascinated with Jordan. Jordan was an agent of chaos, he was always getting into trouble. When he was twenty, he had dropped out of college and began a drug-dealing operation out of an unlicensed barber shop. Jordan was the heart of all the unseemly dealings that occurred within their small college town. Therefore, Todd was not surprised, just curious, to have come across Jordan at the rehab center.

"What are you and Richard up to?" Todd asked.

"Not much," Jordan deflected. "Any way, I meant what are you up to this evening?"

"Right now?" Todd said, buying for time. As much as he liked Jordan, he was a bit wary about spending too much time with him. He was amused by Jordan's antics; he did not want to be a part of them.

"Yes, now," Jordan said. "And don't bullshit me. I know you have no plans. You have no car."

"I was just going to hang out, play with the dog."

"I need help moving."

"Oh, well sure, I can help out with that." It was an innocent enough request. "I've never been to your place." It would be interesting to see where and how Jordan lived.

"Cool, let's go."

"I'll go put Daisy inside."

"Naw, Let's take her. It'll be fine. She'll like it." Jordan said gently slapping Daisy fleshy sides. "She needs the exercise."

"Well, she's not my dog."

"So?"

"I feel weird taking her when she's supposed to stay and guard the center."

"Guard what? The eighty-year-old felon, the drug addicts, or your scary mother-in-law?"

Todd conceded Jordan's point and followed the man and dog out of the gate and down the block towards the bus stop.

The Cunningham Rehab Center was on the outskirts of the city. Thanks to a recent collapse of the real-estate market most of the other old homes in the neighborhood had been torn down or boarded up. It was only thanks due to the prescription drug epidemic that Marion had been able to keep the center from a similar fate. Jordan, Todd, and Daisy walked past the vacant and uncared for lots until they came to the bus stop. They arrived just as the Number 6 pulled around the corner and into view.

Jordon jumped aboard as the bus door swung open.

"Hold on, you can't take that dog on here!" the bus driver yelled at the sight of Daisy.

"Don't worry. She's a seeing eye bitch," Jordan said. He flashed a stolen disabled veteran bus pass. Daisy, seemingly pleased by her sudden promotion from failed guard dog to service animal, trotted on behind him.

"Come on Todd, let's Rosa Parks this shit!" Jordan called as he and Daisy went to the back of the bus. Todd gave the driver and other passengers what he hoped was an apologetic smile and followed Jordan. He picked a dirty Kleenex off the seat across from Jordan and sat down. The bus pulled away and Daisy jumped onto Todd's lap to look out the window.

"You are too big for this," Todd said trying to push the dog down.

"Don't body shame her," Jordan said. He took out a pill bottle and popped two pills into his mouth.

"Jordan!"

"What?"

"Are those legal?"

"Legality is a social construct and therefore subjective."

"What? No it isn't!"

"Well, I'm not a lawyer. It's a matter for the courts, not for us."

"Are those the ones that Mattie uses?" Todd asked. Mattie's drug habit was a source of contention between her and Todd.

"How am I supposed to know what your girlfriend puts inside of her?"

"Do you give them to her?"

"I don't give them to anyone. I sell them. It's my job. If you don't like Mattie doing them, talk to her about it."

"I have. She just says to not worry, she already lives in a rehab center."

"I don't think it works that way."

"That's what I tried to tell her. She won't listen."

"Well anyway, no one here cares," Jordan said and gestured to the rest of the bus. "So why should you?"

Todd looked around at the other passengers. Other than a young mother with two toddlers sitting towards the front, the only other people on the bus were only an old lady and college-aged kid. The old woman had one of those carts used by old people for hauling laundry or groceries around. The college kid had his left hand bandaged up and was reading a copy of The Honking Goose, the student newspapers named after the campus' mascot.

"What the fuck did you do to your hand?" Jordan asked the college student.

"Who, me?" the student asked. Jordan lacked social skills, but he was not shy. He had no problem in starting conversations with strangers.

"Who else?" Jordan asked.

"I messed it up on a motorbike. I tried oiling the chain while it was running."

Jordan burst out laughing.

"It isn't funny!" The student held up the hand. "I lost my middle finger!"

Jordan began laughing harder. It was infectious, Todd grinned in spite of himself and the elderly woman across from them even joined in.

"Well that was fucking stupid of you," the old lady said.

The student looked like he wanted to flip both her and Jordan off, but couldn't for obvious reasons. Instead, he got up and went to the front of the bus.

Now that the ice was broken the old woman seemed eager for conversation. "How about you two? What's your deal?" she asked.

"We're moving into my new place," Jordan explained.

"Oh, that sounds so nice! You seem like such an adorable couple!"

"Oh, we're not--" Jordan and Todd both blurted out but were interrupted.

"See! Already finishing each other's silences. How about a housewarming toast?" She produced a bottle of whiskey from out of her cart.

"Not for you," she yelled out to the college student. "You're stupid enough already." He pretended to not hear.

"Thanks!" Jordan said accepting the bottle. Todd declined with a shake of the hand.

"Here you go, boy!" The old woman forced the neck of the bottle into Daisy's mouth and sloshed a glassful of liquid down her throat.

"I wouldn't--" Todd tried to stop the woman but it was too late.

"She's actually a her," Jordan pointed out.

"Is he a she?" the old lady asked. "Well, I have the same problem too. Once you get to a certain age everything down there begins to look the same."

"See Todd, you can look forward to that with Mattie."

"Eww, Jordan! I don't--"

"You'll have to excuse my friend, he's a bit of a prude."

"I'm not a prude!"

"Well, it takes all sorts," the old said.

"I swear I recognize you from somewhere," Jordan said trying to place her face.

"It's a small town," the woman said. "Say, you boys seem nice. Are you two interested in making a few bucks?"

"Not really," Todd, who was rich, said.

"Doing what?" Jordan, who was poor, asked.

"I need some housework done. Maybe you two boys could help an old lady out?"

"What kind of housework?" Todd asked. He found the woman off-putting, but his sense of civic duty made it hard to refuse to help out someone in need.

"Why don't you two come over for supper tomorrow and we can discuss it?"

"I don't think--"

"Shut up, Todd! Free supper!" Jordan said.

"This is my stop," said the woman said before they could accept or decline. "I'm in the house on the left." She pointed out a pitiful looking townhouse in a dilapidated subdivision. Then she was up out of her seat and making her way towards the door.

"Thanks so much, boys! I really appreciate it!" she called out waving goodbye.

"What a nice elderly bus lesbian!" exclaimed Jordan under his breath as he waved goodbye.

Daisy burped. The whiskey had not agreed with her stomach and she was eager to get off the bus. Luckily it was not long. After the old lady's stop, the bus made two more stops before it came to the end of the line: Paul Tibbets Regional Park. Jordan and Todd followed Daisy off the bus. The door quickly snapped shut after them.

"Thank God," the bus driver said to the empty bus. "Fucking weirdos."
Chapter 2

Paul Tibbets Regional Park, named after the Ohio pilot who dropped the first atomic bomb, had a contentious history. Particularly among the city's small, but vocal, Japanese-American community. The city council had considered renaming the park but nixed the plan when they learned how much it would cost to remove the large statue of the Enola Gay that marked the park's entrance. In retaliation, protesters were continually vandalizing the statue with graffiti. Daisy, her stomach retaliating against the whiskey she had consumed, added to the protesters work by vomiting all over in front of the statue.

"It's okay," Todd said patting Daisy on the back as she threw up. "Get it all out of you."

"Ew, it's not that okay," Jordan said as Daisy finished and then tried to eat her vomit.

"What are we doing here?" Todd finally asked as he dragged Daisy away from the mess. It was a question he had been pondering since they got off the bus. "I thought you wanted help moving?"

"What now? Oh yeah, moving," Jordan said as he began walking along the paved path that led to the river. "We have to get my stuff first."

It was not much of an explanation, but it was all Jordan was willing to reveal for the time being. Todd let go of Daisy and they both followed Jordan. He led them off the paved path and along a narrow unkempt path that snaked between the trees. "Careful, that's poison ivy," Jordan said pointing at a prickly vine. Then, just as Todd gave up hope of any further explanation, Jordan said, "Last weekend ago I was doing community service--"

"Out of the goodness of your heart I'm sure," joked Todd. With Jordan, it was safe to assume it was actually court-ordered.

"Fuck you," Jordan said. "Anyway, I was supposed to be picking up trash along the river. They had some bullshit orientation before they let us get to work. Why do we need an orientation for picking up crap?"

"Maybe not everyone is as smart as you," Todd suggested.

"Again, fuck you," Jordan repeated. "But I did learn that you are not supposed to pick up plastic bottles. I didn't know that."

"Wait, why not?"

"I guess some people use them for making meth. They call it 'shake and bake.' If you pick up the wrong one, it can blow your balls off."

"I'll keep that in mind," Todd said. He liked his balls where they were. "Well, what are you supposed to pick up then?"

"I don't know, used condoms, dirty needles, who cares? Anyway, the other thing I learned was that we had to stay on this side of the dam." Towards one end of the park, the stream had a small dam to create wetlands for restoration purposes. "Apparently downstream there's a bunch of hobos and drifters camping down there. The hippy in charge of the clean-up wanted us to 'respect their space.' And I was like, 'fuck that shit.' I'm not going to let a bunch of hobos and tramps camp in my woods. I don't want to wake up ass-stabbed one morning." Todd had heard Jordan speak often about his fear of such an ass-stabbing. While Todd could sympathize with the wish of not getting stabbed in the rear, he thought that Jordan's obsession with it was unnatural. It must be a paranoid trait inherited from his father.

"How's the old fart doing?" Jordan asked eerily reading Todd's mind. Like most of Jordan's relationships, the relationship between Professor Lewis and Jordan was tenuous at best. Except for the day they had met when Jordan crashed the meeting on campus, Todd had never seen Jordan and his father together. His mother was also a mystery to Todd. Neither Jordan nor Dr. Lewis had ever mentioned her and Todd could only assume she was deceased.

"I think he's doing fine. Well, 'fine' for him," Todd said. Daryl Lewis was a terrible hypochondriac. He always managed to convince himself that he was on the brink of death. His fear of disease and germs impacted his work and social life. He hardly left his battered house except to go to campus and for his frequent, although unnecessary, doctor appointments. His niece, Jordan's cousin, lived near him and did his shopping and cooking for him. At work, he was distracted and un-attentive to his research and students. For the past few years, his senior Ph.D. student, Darlene Brooks, taught all of his classes for him. Now it seemed that Darlene was dropping out of the sociology program and Lewis was desperate for Todd to take her place. Otherwise, he'd have to teach and be exposed to a classroom full of undergraduates and their germs.

"I haven't really seen him since last semester. Except when we pass in the hallways." Todd lied. He did not mention the awkward time two weeks ago when Dr. Lewis cornered him in the men's room and warned him about spending time with Jordan. It had been early in the evening, and Todd was in a hurry to leave campus and meet Mattie for dinner. As he was washing his hands, Daryl had burst into the restroom and raced to an urinal.

"Oh, Great God in Heaven!" Daryl moaned.

"Everything okay professor?" Todd asked. It was unclear whether Daryl's exclamation was one of relief or of pain.

"Hardly," Todd wished he hadn't made eye contact, "never get old. My back, head, prostate, it all has gone to hell."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Todd said. "I hope you feel better so--"

"I doubt I will," Daryl said. "Not with all of this trouble Darlene has caused. Did you know she is dropping out? Have you heard from her?"

"No," Todd said. "I know she is working a lot with Mattie's mom."

"Mattie?"

"My fiancée, Marion Cunningham's daughter?"

"Who?"

"The woman who runs the rehab center? You know, the one that Darlene is using as a case study."

"Oh yes, of course. I had forgotten that you were involved with that family. What did Darlene say?"

"I don't know, like I said, I know she works there but I don't see her much." Todd had a healthy fear of his future mother-in-law, so he must have missed Darlene while keeping his distance from Marion.

"I don't know who is going to teach Sociology 244," complained Daryl as he re-zipped his pants. Todd thought the obvious answer was Daryl himself, as it was his class. However, he felt it best to remain silent; Daryl might construe any other response as a volunteer.

"Say," said Daryl, trying to elicit such an offer from Todd, "How are things going? What does your next semester's schedule look like?"

"I'm doing fine, but pretty busy with school."

"Any problems on campus?" Daryl asked putting his unwashed hand companionably on Todd's shoulder. "You haven't been seeing my son, Jordan, have you?"

"Not too often," Todd said as he tried to not flinch under Lewis' touch.

"You should stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble." Todd was unsure how to respond. He also did not want to say anything bad about Jordan. After all, he was Daryl's son.

"Do you know what he's been getting up to lately?" asked Daryl.

"No, like I said, I haven't--"

"I don't want to know actually," Daryl said cutting him off. "Whatever it is, it can't be good. But you seem like a good kid and I don't want you to get into trouble."

"I've been too busy with my wedding coming up."

"Your wedding? Who's the lucky girl?"

"Mattie Cunningham?" Todd said. His advisor was a terrible listener.

"Oh yes, of course. We were just talking about her. I hope you've been practicing safe sex?"

"W-w-what?" Todd stammered.

"You don't want to know what kind of diseases you can get," Daryl said. The professor's face suddenly lit up. "Speaking off," he said lowering his pants, "does this look like a wart or a tumor to you?"

Todd gasped in shock.

"That bad," Daryl said. "Tumor, I knew it..."

Todd always uncomfortable in the men's room to begin with and this encounter had not improved the situation. It had begun to be a serious impediment, between the stress of graduate school and his upcoming wedding, he was suffering from irritable bowel syndrome.

"Yeah, I don't envy you working with that old son-of-a-bitch," Jordan said bringing Todd's attention back to the present. "No offense to my grandmother," he added as Daisy barked at the word "bitch."

"Well, he's not all that bad," Todd said diplomatically.

"It's just up here," Jordan said instead of correcting Todd. They pushed through some bushes and came to a swampy area where the river overflowed during rainstorms. Here, they found Jordan's twelve-year-old Honda Civic half submerged in the swamp.

"I got lost the other day," Jordan said.

"Why? I mean, how--"

"I'd be damned if I said I could remember," Jordan said wading through the mud to his trunk. He unlocked it and took out a packaged tent, clearly shoplifted as the labels were still attached. He then pulled out a grocery bag full of chips and beef jerky.

"Anything I can carry?" Todd asked.

"Sure," Jordan said. He took out a machete for himself and threw a baseball bat towards Todd. "Here you go!"

* * *

Daisy barked at the sight of the bat, it reminded her of a stick and she was always up for a game of fetch. Today had already been one of the most exciting days Daisy had enjoyed in her short life. She seldom left the center's grounds, and never for anything as exciting as this.

First of all, there was the excitement of riding the bus, which was a new experience for her. It was thrilling even though she could have done without the liquor that was poured down her throat. Then there was the forest; there were so many new things to see and sniff. Jordan and Todd seemed oblivious to most of it. They were just standing around yelling at one another and hardly paying any attention to the forest around them. There was no accounting for taste.

"I don't want to do this!" Todd shouted.

"Do what?" Jordan replied slamming the trunk shut. "You don't even know what we are going to do!"

"It can't be good."

"Well, that's just being negative. Of course you are not going to like it if you keep that attitude."

"Your dad was right!" Todd exclaimed.

"My dad doesn't know anything," snapped Jordan. He was beginning to get angry. "And don't pretend you know him better than I do!"

"I know better than to go along with this!" Todd yelled throwing the bat into the brush. Daisy barked excitedly and went to fetch it for him. "Whatever 'this' is!"

"Fine," snapped Jordan. "Do what you want. See you later. Come on Daisy"

Todd did not know what to do. He couldn't leave the woods without Daisy, plus, he did not even know if he could find his way back out. The path that Jordan had taken was hard to see and it was getting dark out. With no other options, he followed Jordan.

Daisy plodded after Jordan, holding the bat in her mouth. It was larger than most of the sticks she was used to, and she was proud that she had done such an excellent job fetching it. She tried to get Todd to throw it again for her, but for he was sullen and unplayful. As her second choice, she took it to Jordan.

"Good girl," Jordan said taking the bar from her. She barked in anticipation, but instead of throwing the bat Jordan just shushed her. "We're getting close," he said. Daisy sniffed, in addition to the forest smells she could now smell a campfire and the odor of food cooking. She was glad; she could do with dinner. Daisy poked her head through a brush to look into the clearing and saw a camp of homeless young drifters enjoying the summer night. One played the guitar and a few others were around the campfire attending to the food.

Without warning, she felt a burst of pain in her hindquarters. Jordan had slapped her hard. She leapt out into the clearing in shock and fear; no one had ever tried to hurt her before. Occasionally, someone would swat her when she misbehaved, like Marion did this afternoon. But no one had ever hit her like this. She was terrified and angry at the same time.

Worse yet, when Jordan had hit her, she had leapt into the middle of the clearing in the midst of strangers. They all stopped what they were doing and looked in fear at the large dog. This only added to Daisy's confusion, she could smell their fear pheromones over the cooking food.

"Scat!" one of the drifters said trying to shoo her away. It was the wrong thing to do. Daisy was normally very friendly, but not when she was scared. She lunged towards the man who had made a quick movement and bit him on the hand. She did not break the skin, she just wanted to give him a warning.

The drifters did not take the hint. Instead, hysteria broke out. A young woman grabbed a burning stick out of the fire and swung it at Daisy hitting her on the side. This fully enraged Daisy and she leapt at the woman trying to tear at her with her teeth. Jordan leapt from the woods yelling like the madman he was and swinging his machete. The drifters scattered as quickly as they could except for the young woman trying to wrest Daisy off of her. An older man came to try to help his companion and Jordan slashed at him with his machete, cutting the man deeply on the arm. The smell of blood distracted Daisy and she turned her attention from the woman to the injured man and bit him severely on his other arm. Jordan kicked the man onto the ground and raised his machete for a killing blow.

By this time, Todd, who had stood petrified watching the scene from the trees, jumped into action.

"Jordan! Don't!" he yelled and grabbing Jordan's arm to prevent him from killing the man. Jordan shrugged him off, but his violent mood had passed. The injured man saw his chance and got to his feet and ran off after his companions

"What the hell!" Todd yelled.

"What?" said Jordan as he began to drag the broken tents and rubbish into the fire. "Better them than me."

"They weren't hurting anyone!" snapped Todd. He knelt to look at Daisy. Some of her fur was singed, but otherwise, she was unharmed.

"Watch out for the blood," Jordan advised. You never know what these kids have. You don't want to get hobo A.I.D.S. or something." He went over to where he had left his tent and bag of food and began to unpack. "Hey Daisy, want a reward?" Jordan asked handing her a strip of beef jerky. Daisy was still confused about what had just happened, but jerky was a rare treat. She happily took it and began to gnaw on the meat.

"I have to give it to them," Jordan said after a few minutes. Todd was still standing in shocked disbelief. "Those kids really knew how to pick a campsite. Look at that view!" he gestured towards the river and the setting sun using his machete as an extension of his arm.

"This is too much," Todd said. He felt light-headed and sick. "I can't believe this happened."

"Don't be such a baby," Jordan said offering Todd a strip of jerky. "It's not a big deal. Besides, you weren't any help at all. Consider it your bachelor party."

"My what?" Todd asked. He could not believe how lightly Jordan was taking the situation.

"Well, you have to admit, it was kind of fun. Wasn't it?"

Todd's adrenaline was wearing off and was being replaced by shock and disgust. He became light-headed and nauseous, suddenly his irritable bowels kicked in and he ruined a pair of perfectly fine pants.
Wednesday, July 11th
Chapter 3

"Well...fuck," Professor Daryl Lewis said. He sat at his cluttered desk inside his cramped office in the basement of the sociology building. The sociology department, like most of the social science departments at the university, was chronically underfunded. Assistant through associate professors had to share offices, but being a full professor, the department begrudgingly had given Daryl his own office, albeit the smallest one in the basement floor of the building. They were not happy to do it; Lewis was disliked by everyone in the department, particularly the department chair, Dr. Arthur Jenkins.

"I told you the department could not buy you an air purifier," Jenkins said handing Daryl back a rejected reimbursement form.

"Shit, well, I'm going to need you to start an appeal process," Daryl said looking at a brand-new air purifier humming in the corner. Back when the university opened in the late 1800's the building had been the campus' women dormitory. This distinction placed the building on the state list of historical buildings. However, in this case, the listing served less to preserve the campus' heritage and more to provide a convenient excuse to not pay for any remodeling or renovation of the building. Daryl could care less about the building's history, he was more concerned about the asbestos, mold, and radon that he was sure were constantly contaminating his bones and lungs.

"Daryl, stop getting off track. We have a real problem here," Jenkins said. Daryl just sighed, Jenkins was always coming downstairs to ruin Daryl's day. Lewis was the department's worst teacher and most unproductive researcher. No one could remember the last time one of Daryl's graduate students successfully earned a degree. Most dropped out of the program or changed advisors within a couple semesters of starting. Concerns about Daryl's current Ph.D. student, Darlene Brooks, was what had brought Jenkins into his office that morning.

"Well...fuck?" Daryl said again. This time as a question hoping that it would appease Jenkins and buy Daryl a few more moments of time.

Jenkins did not enjoy these meetings any more than Daryl did. He had enough problems on his plate. The state legislature was continually cutting the university's budget and the humanities and social sciences bore the brunt of these cuts. Plus, he had his own classes to teach and research to conduct. Lately, he was questioning his decision to become department chair. When the position was first offered to him, he thought it was an honor. Now, after a few months on the job, he realized the truth: no one else had wanted the job. He was stuck putting out one fire after another. He barely ever got a chance to see his family, his two twins just turned three last week. He was sadden by the thought that he was going to miss so many formative moments with them.

"You have to see it from the department's perspective, Daryl. She has been working on the dissertation for six years and has nothing to show for it. It makes the program and department look bad," Jenkins explained. It mostly reflected poorly on Daryl, but Jenkins did not mention this. Daryl obviously cared more for shirking his responsibilities than for his reputation.

"Well, it is a difficult project," Daryl tried to come up with an excuse on the fly. He did not want to admit that Darlene was probably going to drop out of the program. Jenkins would find out soon enough, but Daryl would deal with the problem then. Today he was suffering from a headache that he was sure was a brain tumor. "She is studying a drug rehab center and the patient turn-over is so high that it's a lot of work to keep tabs on everything."

"I don't see--" Jenkins tried to argue, but Daryl cut him off.

"Plus, she was teaching Sociology 244 which was a lot of work. If we got my other student to--"

"Has she made any progress? How often do you meet with her?" interrupted Jenkins.

"Why I meet with both Darlene and Todd at our weekly meetings on Wednesday," Daryl lied; he hadn't seen Darlene in months. He saw Todd more often, but only informally in the hallway or men's room. Todd always proved to be unhelpful on these occasions. If Daryl was going to successfully coerce Todd into teaching Sociology 244 he was going to need Jenkins' authority. Todd was not going to volunteer on his own. "She seemed fine and was making great progress on the dissertation. I have a copy of her latest draft here," he added. He opened his desk drawer to grab the manuscript. He had only read the first few pages, which were incoherent and awful, but hoped that even a terrible rough draft would placate Jenkins for the moment. At the last moment, he suddenly remembered the gun hidden underneath the dissertation and thought better of the whole endeavor. He closed the drawer and met Jenkin's expectant gaze with an awkward silence.

Jenkins finally broke the silence by asking: "do you know if she will be able to finish up before the Fall semester?"

"I don't know," said Daryl. "But," he added before Jenkins could say anything, "I'll find out at our next meeting this afternoon." He shuffled some random papers on his desk to give the appearance that he had work to do.

"Well, keep me posted," said Jenkins getting up and heading towards the door. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. "Say, Daryl, we need someone to go to this week's Interdisciplinary Social Hour." Every week the university offered a social hour where representatives from each department would meet and tour one of the research facilities on campus. Afterward, there was free wine and appetizers making it a coveted event.

"Why sure," Daryl said uncertainly. He was suspicious; why was Jenkins offering a reward after just chastising him about Darlene?

"Great," said Jenkins with an impish grin. Unbeknown to Daryl, this week's tour was of a medical laboratory. Jenkins knew that Daryl's hypochondria would make it torture for him. "Here's the address."

"Why thanks, Jenkins," Daryl said taking the slip of paper. "Say, about this reimbursement form..."

As soon as Jenkin's was out the door, Daryl got up and went to close the office door. Then he went back to his desk and opened the bottom drawer again.

"Good," he thought, the gun was still in there, nestled under the copy of Darlene's terrible dissertation. He was paranoid that it was going to get stolen and then he would get into even more trouble. He really should not have the gun at his office, but Daryl figured it was safer there than at his house. While Jordan seldom visited the house, Daryl never knew when his son would show up. He did not want Jordan retrieving the gun during one of his rare visits. Daryl wished that he had never gone through his son's boxes in the attic. If he had minded his own business, he'd never have found the weapon and would not have to worry about it. However, his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had opened several boxes one afternoon while he was upstairs looking for his old dehumidifier.

He shut the drawer gently, he had a fear of the gun going off accidentally, and looked at the time.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. It was almost noon. He'd have to hurry if he was going to make it to the event Jenkins had invited him too. He glanced at the address on the slip of paper, he'd have just enough time to make it there if he hurried. Hopefully, he would not twist an angle, tear a tendon, suffer heatstroke, get hit by a car, suffer a heart attack, or succumb to any of the other dangers walking across campus posed.

Daryl left the office, forgetting to lock his office door, and went upstairs to the ground floor to exit the building. Outside he was struck by the glaring sunshine. He was tempted to return to the office for sunscreen but was distracted by a loud voice emanating from a bench near the building's entrance.

"Hey Daryl, how are they hanging?" called out the voice. Daryl recognized Professor Joseph Baker, or "Baked Joe" as most of the student community called him. Baked Joe held tenure in the Literature Department and was an expert on the works of Anton Chekhov. He was a relic from the campus' past. His hair, long since grayed, was kept in a long ponytail. He always wore sandals, even during winter. While he was a much more gifted instructor than Daryl, Baker was as unpopular among the faculty community as Daryl was. He preferred to socialize with his students at fraternity and sorority parties than with the other professors at the faculty club. Being mutual outcasts, Joe and Daryl had developed a sort of friendship over the years.

"Not great, I have this terrible headache," Daryl complained as he walked up to the hippie. "Also, I'd have been better if I remembered my hat or umbrella. I don't do well in the sun. I'm pretty sure I'm getting a melanoma on the back of my neck, but I can't turn around far enough to check it. I hate the summers."

"I don't," Joe getting up off the bench to walk with Daryl for a bit. "Look at the view!" said gesturing to the large pond that was the center of the campus. Around the pond, students were taking a break from summer classes to study or sunbathe. He nodded to a young woman wearing a short skirt handing out religious pamphlets. "I don't know what sort of father would raise his daughter to go out in public dressed like that," Joe said, "but I'd like to shake his hand if I ever meet him."

"I guess," said Daryl unconvinced. When he looked at undergraduates, he just saw walking Petri dishes of infectious disease and S.T.D.s.

"Where are you off to?" asked Joe.

"My chair asked me to go to today's I.S.H. seminar," Daryl answered.

"Sounds groovy, normally I'd be jealous of you, but I'd hate to be cooped up inside on a day like this," Baked Joe said.

"Well, at least there's free food. Plus, the tour seems interesting," Daryl lied. He had no idea what the event actually was.

Joe excused himself to smoke a joint behind the public health school and Daryl hurried to his destination. After chatting with Professor Baker, he was going to be late. Despite working at the campus for over two decades, he'd never been to Russell Labs, the address on the slip of paper. He had assumed that the tour and seminar would be in a regular campus building, hopefully, there would be some opportunity to sneak away and take a nap before the food was set out. But on arriving at the building, he was disappointed to find a crowd of faculty standing just inside the entryway. It appeared that the opportunities for napping were going to be nil.

Daryl arrived just in time to hear a speaker say, "Now that we've covered the safety list, please follow our lab technicians into the locker-rooms to get changed for the animal rooms."

"Wait, the what?" asked Daryl in consternation. "I dosn't want--" but he was interrupted as a young lab technician hustled him towards the men's locker-room.

"Don't worry, as long as you follow the safety instruction the risk of getting bitten or catching a zoonotic disease is quite low," the lab tech explained.

Daryl did not know what the term "zoonotic" meant but found the word "disease" alarming enough. But it was too late to escape, Daryl had been pushed into the locker-room and handed a set of blue hospital scrubs. The other men were already stripped down to their underwear and dressing. Daryl tried to calm himself and follow their example. His scrubs were several sizes too large, but before he could ask for a smaller size he had already been given a suit of coveralls to put on next. These were several sizes too small for him, the legs only covered his shins and the crotch cut him in the groin. The lab tech zipped him up and before he could complain a facemask was strapped over his mouth preventing him from saying anything. He was the last one to exit the locker room and the technician handed him a pair of boots and hurried him over to where the rest of the tour group was waiting.

"Russell Laboratories is where the university houses its 3,500 rhesus macaques," a speaker was explaining as Daryl joined the group.

Daryl tried to think about what a macaque was, "That's some kind of parrot, right?" he tried asking the woman standing in front of him, but his facemask prevented any comprehensible speech. The group was led through a door and into a long dimly lit hallway. Terrible screams and hoots came from behind the doors. The guide led the group through one of these doors and Daryl found himself in a large room. On each side of the room there were stacks of large metal cages, similar to dog kennels, but reinforced. These were stacked three high up to the ceiling. Each kennel held two monkeys, the size of a medium-sized dog. At the sight of humans wearing the scrubs and coveralls, the monkeys in the room flew into a rage. They ran back and forth in their cages and pounded on the bars. Daryl prayed the cage doors would hold.

"Every November, the facility receives grants from the National Institute of Health, the Food and Drug Administration, and the Center for Disease Control, to conduct different studies," the guide explained. "For example, these fellows," she said pointing out a set of lethargic and balding monkeys, "are part of an H.I.V. study."

"How do you study H.I.V. in non-humans?" asked one of the tour members, a genetics professor.

"What the hell?" said Daryl. Apparently, other people could speak. There must be something wrong with his facemask. He tried to adjust it and the mask fell off in his hands. "Dear God," he said in fear looking at his broken mask.

"You are correct that monkeys can't get the Human Immune Virus," explained the guide, oblivious to Daryl, "but monkeys can get S.I.V. or Simian Immune Virus. And one of the researchers here has developed a hybrid of the two, Simian-Human Immune Virus, or S.H.I.V."

"Wait, what the fuck?" Daryl gasped forgetting his facemask. "Did you just say you invented a new type of A.I.D.S.?" Out of morbid curiosity, he looked into the cage as the tour passed. He jerked back as a thirty-pound monkey leapt and bared its two-inch long canine teeth at him.

"Please remember to not look into the monkeys' faces. They consider eye contact a threat," the guide said calmly, acknowledging Daryl for the first time. "Now if you all follow me down here," she said leading them out a door at the end of the room and into another room nearly identical to the first, "these animals are part of a new experimental study that we are just starting."

In the middle of the room was a large metallic contraption. Daryl could not begin to imagine what it was for, but he could not help but feel that the tour was going to take a dark turn.

"Half of the monkeys in the room are a control group, the other half are given regular doses of the experimental drug," the guide explained as two lab technicians with nets appeared. Each went to a cage and carefully netted a monkey.

"We are going to need a few volunteers," said the guide. Everyone raised their hand but Daryl.

"Let's see," said the guide. "How about you," she said pointing to a large woman from the English Department, "and you," she said pointing to Daryl.

"Oh no, I couldn't," said Daryl. "I'm sure I'm allergic to--" but the other tour members had eagerly pushed him to the front and Daryl stood shaking in front of the contraption.

Meanwhile, as Daryl was being conscripted, the lab technicians had strapped the two monkeys into the contraption. Even in his fear, Daryl could not help but feel sorry for the animals.

"--do you both understand?" the guide finished explaining. Daryl had not been paying attention.

"Sorry, I didn't catch--"

The guide, barely hiding her exasperation, repeated: "Each time they make a mistake and grab the wrong lever, push the button and they will receive a shock."

Daryl sighed with relief. It was simpler than he thought. He could do this.

"You mean this button?" he asked.

"No! Not that--" the guide exclaimed but it was too late, Daryl had pulled the emergency release. The straps containing both animals went slack and the monkeys dropped to the floor.

"Everyone, stay calm," said the guide said nervously.

"Holly hell, there's no way I'm getting bitten in the ass by an AIDS monkey!" Daryl screamed. Filled with adrenaline, he forgot that he supposedly suffered from asthma, emphysema and weak knees and raced towards the door as fast as a man half his age. He exclamation shook the two loose animals out of their surprised shock. They went into a rage and started snarling and screaming at the humans. The lab technicians scrambled to get the animals back under control.

Daryl disregarded the "emergency exit only" sign and burst out through it setting off the fire alarm.

"Everyone remain calm! Please!" the guide shouted as the tour members began to panic along with the animals in their cages. As the alarms blared, the caged animals screamed and shook the bars on the door. Most of the cages held, but there were so many cages in the room that a few were bound to break open.

They did so.

Monkeys spilled into the room. The lab technicians raced around trying to catch the animals and restore order while the guide hustled to help tour members out of the building, but the humans were out-numbered. The tour tried to exit in an orderly manner until one monkey leapt up and tore off the ear of an elderly engineering professor.

"Dear God!" the guide yelled, forgetting her own advice to remain calm. The other tour members followed her example and began to scream and rush for the exit. An anthropology professor stumbled and tripped. This, in turn, caused a French and gender studies professor to tumble over her. The injured engineer curled up on the floor and sobbed.

Overall, it was a disaster of interdisciplinary dimensions. At least for the human participants. Most of the other primates would look back on it as an entertaining break from their daily, monotonous, lives. Particularly for the macaque that the technicians had nicknamed "Grabby." He had been surprised when he had been strapped into the contraption. He was even more surprised when Daryl had accidentally freed him. However, in all of the ensuing chaos, he had quickly and quietly regained his composure. The technicians were too busy chasing the other monkeys, and the tour group was too busy panicking. So, no one noticed when he quietly slipped out the emergency exit.
Chapter 4

If Ohio was Satan's asshole, and Samantha Bell was pretty sure it was, then the university was a hemorrhoid about to burst. Sam looked with scorn at the open area around the pond that was filled with sinning undergrads and lecherous faculty. She felt dirty even being on the campus, but she had a mission. More than a mission, a crusade.

Back when Sam had been a student at the university, she had been part of several student Christian groups. However, she fundamentally had disagreed with all of the other fundamentalists. The other students had talked about spreading the gospel on campus, but in the end, did not actually accomplish anything. The groups were more of an excuse to meet other students and socialize. Sam had not been born again just to join a social club so she had left both the student organizations and the university in disgust.

Once she dropped out of college, she had looked elsewhere trying to find her spiritual peers. However, the pickings were slim in the city as well. The first church she had investigated seemed to be promising. It was held in a shoddy storefront at a mall next to a dollar theater. Visiting on that first Sunday, Sam had been impressed at how dirty and miserable the location was. Clearly, these people had no concern for the material world and were focused purely on spiritual matters. She was shocked and disgusted though when the pastor arrived and turned out to be a woman. This was unacceptable; the bible was very clear that original sin had begun with Eve. Sam had not even bothered to stay until the end of the service.

The members of second church supposedly had an even more conservative reputation than the first. For a few weeks, Samantha felt that she had found a new home. However, during a Bible study session, one of the older members of the church accidentally walked in on Sam in the restroom and discovered that Samantha Bell used to be Samuel Bell.

Sam was the only transgendered person ever to attend their church, and for most of the members, she was the first transgendered person they had ever met. Their impulse was to run her out of the church, but cooler senses prevailed. The small congregation had called an emergency meeting and after much discussion and prayer, they made the momentous decision that their previous stance on the L.G.B.T. community was misguided. After meeting Sam, they realized that her gender and orientation did not matter; she was one of God's children just like them and the Christian thing to do was to welcome her with open arms.

After announcing their decision, Sam had stormed out of the church before those open arms could entangle her. After all, if they were liberal enough to accept a transgender person like herself, they were not conservative enough for her. She wanted nothing to do with those hippies, they were as bad as the university faculty.

Since none of the groups she had investigated were up to her standards, she had been reduced to starting her own. This point Sam in a difficult position. On one hand, it required her, a transgendered woman, leading her own organization. This was worse than what made the other institutions unacceptable to her. On the other hand, she would be in charge and she could make the group as strict as she wanted. In the end, she had found that the positives outweighed the negatives, and so she began her crusade.

Sam had strict standards and so far, no other members had lived up to them. This pleased Samantha. The only way to be sure that your group was exclusive enough was to reject everyone. Still, though, it meant that all of the work fell onto her.

Usually, she did not mind doing the work, suffering was next to godliness in her view. However, some days the stress got to her. Take today, for example, it was bright and sunny out and she was stuck on the hot sidewalk handing out pamphlets. To stay cool, she had worn the shortest skirt she could, that is, the shortest a pre-op transsexual could wear. Still, her balls were sweating buckets.

"Fear God's wrath!" she called to the students on the mall. She took a pamphlet and dropped on a woman sunbathing. "Repent before it is too late!" she yelled as she interrupted two frat boys playing Frisbee.

"Fuck off! Go to hell!" the frat boy replied crumpling the pamphlet and throwing it to the ground.

"No, you are going to hell!" Samantha snapped back. If he had read the pamphlet, he'd have seen that was the whole point. She moved on but first picked up the crumpled pamphlet. They were not cheap to print.

She was tired and hot, so she decided the rejection from the frat boys had been a sign from God for her to take a break and get lunch. She decided to head to the burrito truck across campus. It was run by a sinner, but had the best food on campus. She passed the library, turned a corner, and found herself face to face with one of her father's friends: Professor Joe Baker.

Both of Samantha's parents had been professors; her father, Samuel Bell Sr., was an evolutionary biologist in the zoology department and her mother had been a professor in the women's studies department. Back in the day, her parents had thrown parties and Professor Baker had been one of their favorite guests. At least until he began to get too handsy with the younger female faculty. After that, he became a persona non-gratis at the Bell home.

Those days of parties were over. When Samantha, then Samuel, had been a teenager his mother had been brutally murdered. It was still an open case; while the police had a suspect, there was not enough evidence for a conviction. However, Sam knew in his heart that it had to be an act of God. Clearly, the Good Lord in His wisdom had punished his parents for some sort of transgression. Perhaps they were too open-minded and tolerant. Samuel would not make the same mistakes. He decided to be born again, and since this was his second birth, he figured he'd might as well start with a fresh slate as a "she."

Professor Baker did not recognize Sam. In his defense, she had changed quite a bit since they had last met.

"Hey beautiful," Baker coughed when he saw her.

"Ew," Sam shuddered. The professor was old enough to be her father.

"Want a drag?" Baker asked offering her the half-smoked joint.

"I'm not in drag," Sam said offended. She had misheard Baker, but it was a topic she was sensitive about. The life insurance from her mother could only cover half of the surgeries she had needed, so Sam had just focused on the more visible top half. Back when she had been a teenage boy she had always been more of a boob man than an ass man anyway.

"I meant do you want some," Baker clarified holding the joint out to her.

"I'm not a sinner," she declined the professor's offer. "Unlike you," she couldn't help but add.

"You should try it sometime. You might like it."

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Doing that out here in the open?"

"What, you mean I should hot-box it instead?"

"It's not funny. Hell is no laughing matter."

"Well, I like to look on the bright side of life. Like I tell my graduate students, life is too short to take seriously."

Sam cringed at the mention of graduate students. They were even worse sinners than the faculty.

"I know life is short, that's why I'm preparing for the next one," she said handing the professor a pamphlet.

"I'll keep an open mind if you do," Joe said taking the pamphlet and handing her the joint. Sam did not take it, but she also did not push it away.

"It's from God's green earth," Joe said.

"How dare you mention His name," snapped Sam. But the professor had a point. Maybe it would be good to just try it she thought. After all, in order to resist temptation, she had to fully understand just what it was that she was resisting. She took the joint and breathed deeply only to burst out in a violent fit of coughs.

"You have to inhale it in, not just exhale it. The opposite of Bill Clinton."

"Don't get me started on Bill Clinton," Samantha said between coughs. She decided that she would not have any problems resisting the temptation of marijuana in the future.

The mention of the former president must have given Joe ideas since he reached out and fondled Samantha's breast.

"What the Fu-Heck." Sam snapped jumping back. She was not used to using such language, but Joe had crossed a line. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Woah, sorry," Joe said. "I thought we were just having a good time."

"What a creep!" Sam said.

"Hey, it's like weed, they are just natural urges, there is no need to get so uptight about it," Baker tried to argue. "There is nothing wrong about appreciating the human body."

"Appreciate this!" Sam exclaimed and flashed Joe.

"Jesus!"

"Using the Lord's name in vain," Sam said shaking her head in disappointment. "One more reason why you will burn in Hell." She took the joint from the shocked professor and left him standing speechless.

"Well, I'll be damned," Joe said. Samantha would have agreed if she had not already left.

* * *

The sight of Samantha's penis had left the professor deeply unsettled. Plus, she had taken his last joint. He gathered his wits and caught a cab across town to visit his dealer.

Joe Baker lucked out; Jordan was idly sitting at the barbershop when the professor arrived. The shop had no regular hours and Jordan opened and closed it whenever the fancy struck him. Normally this would be a poor business practice, however, as the barbershop was really a drug front, Jordan catered to a captive audience and his customers were willing to put up with irregular hours.

"Hey, how's it going Joe?" Jordan called out when Baker entered.

"Not great," Joe said. "I was trying to relax but then this tranny started busting my balls about Jesus."

"They'll do that."

"She took my last joint, so I decided to stop by to get something to mellow me out."

"You are just in luck," Jordan said getting up out of a barber chair. Joe sat down on another one.

"You are a lifesaver." Joe took the bag that Jordan offered and began to roll a set of new joints. "I ran into your father the other day," Joe said making conversation.

"Is that so?"

"Wait, no. It was this morning actually. Before the Jesus tranny," Joe corrected himself. "He seemed uptight about something."

"Jesus, the tranny, or my dad?"

"From what I've heard they all have their crosses to bear. But I meant your dad," clarified Professor Baker.

"Huh, is it just his normal stuff, or did something else crawl into his ass?"

"He didn't say," Joe said reclining the chair. "But you know him and how he likes to complain."

"Yeah," said Jordan. "I should probably stop in sometime to see him. Besides, I left some stuff at the house." He distinctly remembered leaving his favorite gun in a box in the attic. However, the last time he had snuck into Daryl's house he could not find it.

Jordan and Joe swiveled in their barber chairs as the shop's door opened. It was unusual for it to be so busy. A tall woman in her thirties had entered the barbershop. Despite the warm summer weather, she was wearing a long coat and her sunglasses masked much of her face.

"Darlene?" Jordan squinted to see if it was really her. "It's been a while," he said.

"Yes. Since Virginia's funeral," said Darlene.

"Hey, that wasn't my fault" Jordan snapped.

"I didn't say it was," Darlene said.

"I'd known her longer than anyone if she had listened to me and stayed away from Victor nothing would have happened."

"Victor? I don't-- Listen I don't care. Don't worry, I'm not blaming you," Darlene said. "At least not anymore. Anyway, I'm here to ask for a favor."

"I figured as much," said Jordan going to his cabinets. "What do you want?"

"It's actually more of a business proposition," Darlene explained sitting down in the chair. "I know you've been selling drugs to Richard at the rehab center."

"No! Of course not! That's ridiculous nonsense! How did you know?"

"The two of you aren't exactly subtle. Besides, who else would he be getting them from?" Darlene said.

"He and I are just providing a service," justified Jordan. "How else--"

"Can it!" interrupted Darlene. "I don't care. I just want a cut. I got student loans I need to start paying back."

"A cut," asked Jordan. "For doing what?"

"For not turning you into Marion."

"Marion who?"

"You know who she is."

"You really got me over a barrel. Over a barrel with my pants down."

"Spare me the image. Do we have a deal?"

"Do I have a choice?" asked Jordan. But he knew it was a rhetorical question.

"I want cash."

"Fine."

"Now."

"Right now?"

"Now."

"Jesus Christ you are a pushy blackmailer!" said Jordan. "I don't have it on me."

"Bullshit," Darlene said.

"Um, no bullshit. I don't keep the product and money in the same place," Jordan said exasperated with her ignorance. "You really are new to this whole idea of 'crime,' aren't you?"

"Fine, let's go," she said.

"You have to drive though," Jordan said. "My car is in... well, it's just unavailable at the moment."

"You know I wouldn't get in a car with you behind the wheel," Darlene said, "you'd end up killing me or some poor pedestrian. Let's get going though. I have to meet my brother for lunch soon."

"Great," said Jordan, although he did not sound happy about it. Then he brightened, "as long as you are extorting me, can you drop me off at a friend's house for dinner?"

"Dinner? At this hour? Fine, whatever, I don't care, let's go!" she urged.

"Hey, Joe? Is it cool if you look after and lock the place up when you are done?" Jordan called out to Professor Baker.

"Sure thing," said Joe who had just deposited the butt of his joint into the trashcan and was settling in for a nap in the chair. "Shouldn't be a problem."

"Thanks," replied Jordan who headed out of the door. Joe closed his eyes and was soon asleep.

* * *

The professor woke himself up coughing. He was not sure how long he had been asleep. Long enough for the shop to fill with smoke though. Joe was surprised, he was pretty used to smoke, but this was a lot, even for him. Something was wrong. He looked around.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed. The trashcan was on fire, he must have dropped some ash in there before falling asleep. The smoke was stinging his eyes, but he fumbled along the wall looking for a fire extinguisher.

"Close enough," he said picking up a bottle of hairspray. He aimed and pressed the nozzle of the can.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed again. Joe was a literature professor, not a science professor. This was evidenced by his attempt to put out a fire by spraying an oily liquid on it. Instead of extinguishing the flames, he had made a flamethrower. The fire was no longer contained in the trash can. He ran over to the phone and dialed. After a few tries, his head was still swimming, he finally entered the numbers 9-1-1 successfully.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" the dispatcher asked.

"Fire, big fire!" yelled Joe.

"All of our trucks are responding to an alarm on the campus, but I'll send them out as soon as they finish. What's your location?" asked the dispatcher.

"Never mind! False alarm!" said Joe remembering where he was and all the drugs Jordan had cached in the shop. It would be a disaster to invite the authorities. He slammed the phone down. "What do I do? What do I do?" Joe said struggling to think of a solution. He thought back to his childhood. They had taught him to stop, drop and roll in the case of fire, but he could not see how that would help in this situation. He did the only thing he could think of: he dropped his pants and tried drowning the fire by urinating on it. It was too little, too late. The fire was out of control and no amount of urine could put it out. At least no amount that he could currently produce.

He waddled with his pants around his legs to the entrance of the shop. He was half out the doors when he remembered the drugs inside. Jordan was his friend as well as his friend's son. He could not just leave all of Jordan's drugs behind to burn up. Besides, as an ex-hippie, he could not bear the thought of all those drugs going to waste.

He waddled back into the shop and started opening up cabinets and grabbing drugs. The flames crackled around him. Over their roaring, Joe heard a creaking sound coming from above. He looked up to see a beam crashing down on him

"Oh shit!" he swore once more to himself as the burning roof collapsed on top of him. Then "Baked Joe" lived up to his nickname by dying.
Chapter 5

"Stay out of trouble," Tonya Lewis said to her assistant, Anthony Brooks. They were parked in the long driveway of the Cunningham Rehab Center. Tonya had an appointment to meet with Marion and Mattie Cunningham to plan their wedding menu. Since his sister, Darlene, worked at the center, Anthony had tagged along to meet her for lunch.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Anthony said dismissively as he finished his burger and fries. Even though he was supposed to get lunch with his sister, he had asked Tonya to stop on the way. Darlene had strange taste in food and Anthony did not want to take any chances.

"I mean it," reiterated Tonya, "I'm trying to run a business here, I can't have my employee wandering around the client's house making trouble. I don't care if your sister works here, it looks unprofessional."

"My sister is the only reason why we got the job," muttered Anthony. Darlene was one of Tonya's oldest friends, they went to high school together and were roommates in college. Therefore, when Marion Cunningham had mentioned to Darlene that she was looking for an event planner for her daughter's wedding, Darlene had quickly suggested Tonya. Darlene also had gotten Anthony his job with Tonya. Really, she had guilted Tonya into hiring her little brother to keep him busy and out of trouble. Tonya reluctantly did so as a favor to Darlene; Anthony was often more of a hindrance than a help.

"Yes," answered Tonya. "And I want to make sure her brother is not the reason why we lose the job." Tonya ran the second largest catering and event planning service in the city. She was eager to become the largest in the city. But she but was continually held back by her inability to say 'no' to her friends and family. She had let herself become saddled with Darlene's younger brother. Yet she could not fire him without hurting Darlene's feelings. Similarly, her own family often got in her way. Often, when she was hard at work, she would be interrupted by a phone call from Daryl asking him to drive him to the doctor. Then there was her cousin, Jordan. Jordan was simply no good.

"Here, listen to the radio or something," Tonya said tossing the van keys next to Anthony.

"You mean I have to sit in the van? It's like a thousand degrees in here!"

"Didn't you just hear anything I said? Stay here until Darlene comes out!"

"If you didn't want me here, why did you even bring me?"

"Damned if I know." Tonya slammed the van door and headed into the mansion with an armful of binders and potential menus.

"Worst job ever," Anthony said to himself after he was sure that Tonya was out of hearing. But he had to admit, as boring as the job was, Tonya was a pretty easy-going boss. Mostly he just ran errands for her and helped out with the big events. She handled all the planning and details. Still, sometimes she got on his nerves.

"Darlene, where are you?" he said to himself checking his phone. There was still no response from his sister. They had made plans the night before and he had not heard anything from her since then. It appeared that Darlene had forgotten, or was caught up in other work. It was unusual of her, she was normally fairly organized. However, since she decided to drop out of grad school Anthony had noticed that she had become more absent-minded and sloppy.

"Fuck this," he said when it was obvious that Darlene was not going to show up. He opened the door and stepped out of the van. It was a sunny bright day and he headed towards the mansion where there was shade. Unfortunately, he was not the only one to seek refuge from the heat.

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed as he turned the corner of the house and was faced by a huge Rottweiler. Anthony had a terrible fear of dogs; especially large dogs like Daisy. In fact, he was not much of an animal lover and panicked whenever he saw anything larger than a squirrel. He had not been to the zoo in ages.

Anthony screamed and tried to race back to the van. Daisy, unlike Anthony, was relatively fearless, at least when she was not surrounded by drifters. She loved people and playing new games. She had leapt to her feet when she had been woken by Anthony and now eagerly raced after what she hoped would be her new friend.

"Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap!" Anthony gasped as he fumbled on the handle of the van door. It was locked. He looked through the tinted window and saw the keys where Tonya had tossed them. He debated breaking the window but was interrupted by Daisy.

Daisy had caught up with him and eagerly watched him pound on the van. This was a new game for her, but she joined by jumping up onto the hood of the van and barking happily. Anthony screamed again, which she took as an invitation to jump on him and to lick his face. He collapsed under her weight and nearly soiled himself in fear. Somehow, he managed to push her away and raced across the yard. In his blind terror, he almost did not notice Mattie Cunningham sunbathing topless. Almost. He may have been running for his life, but that did not mean he did not have time to appreciate nudity.

"Wow!" he exclaimed as he paused briefly.

"What the hell!" Mattie screamed scrambling to cover herself. She had been wearing headphones and had not heard Daisy barking. Therefore, she was completely shocked to find herself exposed to a strange man.

"Sorry!" Anthony called out. He had not meant to startle her but did not have time to explain; Daisy was almost upon him and he could not be distracted. He reached the hedge and tried to leap through. The branches scratched his face and snagged his clothes. He struggled, and the hedge began to give way. However, just when he felt that he was almost free, something large and heavy hit him in the head and knocked him to the ground.

"Get him, Daisy!" Mattie shouted encouragingly as Daisy slobbered over the unconscious body of Anthony. She licked eagerly at a cut on his head.

"What happened?" Anthony asked slowly coming to.

"You got hit in the head by a bike," Mattie said pointing to the child's bike that Jordan had thrown up in the hedge the day before "Serves you right."

"What was a bike--" then realizing that Daisy was licking him, he shouted: "Dear God!" He tried to scramble to his feet but was too dizzy.

"What? You can't possibly be afraid of Daisy. She's a sweetheart."

"Get her off me!"

"Why so you can spy on me some more?"

"It was an accident," Anthony said. "My sister's here."

"Oh," Mattie said calming down. Family members of her mother's patients occasionally tried to visit. "She's an addict?" Mattie grabbed Daisy by the collar and pulled her back.

"No, she's just a bitch," Anthony said sore that Darlene had stood him up.

Daisy barked happily at the word "bitch."

"I'm Darlene's brother," he explained as he recovered.

"Oh, You're right. She is a bitch." Mattie had never warmed up to Darlene. Darlene proved to have a knack for connecting to the patients, and more importantly, to Marion. Soon, Darlene was acting as Marion's unofficial assistant. Mattie had never shown any interest in her mother's business, but she could not help but feel Darlene had usurped her position. Now that Darlene was dropping out of school and becoming Marion's official assistant Mattie could not help but feel jealous.

"Oh shit," Anthony said. Without Daisy licking it up, the blood from the cut in his head had dripped into his eyes.

"You're bleeding," Mattie stated the obvious. "Come in and wash it off." She helped him to his feet. He was still unsteady and wary of Daisy but managed to follow her and the dog through the back door and into the kitchen.

"Sit down," Mattie said indicating a chair. She took a first aid kit from above the sink and handed it to him. "Since I invited you in the house, I should probably know your name. You know, just in case my fiancée or mom walks in and is curious why there is a strange man in the kitchen."

"Anthony. I'm guessing you're the daughter getting married? I work with Tonya. That's why we're here. She's up with your mom planning your wedding."

"Oh shit, I forgot about that. I was supposed to be there too. My mom is going to be pissed."

"So, you are Mattie?" Anthony tried to remember what Darlene had told him. It had been something about an over-privileged, drug-addled, crazy and spoiled child.

"Yeah, I'm Mattie," she confirmed. "Let me help you with that." Anthony was having a difficult time positioning the bandage on his scalp.

"Thanks," Anthony said. "Sorry about surprising you out there. Please don't tell my boss." He remembered what Tonya had said about "unprofessional behavior." Anthony knew that the only reason why he had the job was because of Darlene and he did not want to give Tonya the excuse she was looking for to fire him.

"I won't," Mattie said. She found herself strangely taken with Anthony. "If you do me a favor."

"What?"

"Take me out to dinner. I'm starving."

"I'm not sure," Anthony said. He was already going to be in trouble with Tonya. Taking the bride-to-be out for dinner seemed to be one of the things that Tonya had warned him about.

"Since my mom is paying you guys to plan my wedding, you sort of work for me," she argued seeing that he was uncertain.

"I'm not sure about that. Besides, I can't take the van without Tonya."

"I have a car, let's go," said Mattie not waiting for him to argue. Anthony thought it over quickly, it was either taking Mattie out or sitting in the sun with Daisy. It was not a difficult choice. Plus, if he left, he would not be around for Tonya to yell at when she found out he locked the keys in the van.

"Nice car," he said catching up to Mattie in the driveway. Happily, Daisy had stayed in the kitchen to rummage through the trash can. "Well, sort of," he added noting the fresh, long, scratch on the B.M.W.'s side and the broken headlight.

"It's my fiancé's," Mattie said. "He's loaded."

"Is that why you are marrying him?" Anthony asked as he slid into the passenger seat. Mattie started the car before she could respond, and the stereo began blaring.

"Holy shit," said Anthony recognizing the band playing. "Is this Witch Shit?"

"Yeah," said Mattie. "I picked up their C.D. at their show last night."

"No way!" he said. "I was there last night too!"

"Really?" Mattie asked. "I haven't met many people who like them. I mean, outside of their shows of course."

"Are you kidding?" he asked. "They are the best band in town. Not that there is a lot to choose from." As they drove towards the campus and downtown, Mattie and Anthony discussed last night's show and the new direction that the band had taken. It turned out that Mattie knew the drummer who was the cousin of Anthony's old roommate. Anthony was surprised to find that he and Mattie surprisingly had a lot in common. They were the same age, both liked the local music scene, and had complaints about Darlene. She was nothing like the woman his sister had described. Anthony was so entranced by her, that he did not notice her atrocious driving.

* * *

"Want a burrito?" she asked as they approached the campus. "There's a great food truck parked down the way."

"Sure," Anthony said. He was not super hungry and felt slightly concussed, but he did not mind. He was just happy to be hanging out with Mattie. She parked in front of a fire hydrant and they ordered two chicken burritos from the food truck.

"Do you go to school here?" Anthony asked.

"God no," Mattie said. "But my fiancé is a student here. He's doing his master's in sociology."

"Oh," said Anthony. "Are you sure he won't mind us hanging out together?"

"I guess that depends on what we do," she said with a mischievous grin. Anthony thought it best to let the subject drop.

They wandered over to the campus pond. It was about an acre in area, but only a foot deep. In the center, there was a large fountain. Along the side of the pond where benches shaded by stately elms. Even during a summer evening, it was crowded with students relaxing after classes, reading, or dipping their feet into the water.

The pond was popular not only with the students but also the bird life. In fact, the pond was home to the campus' most famous resident and university mascot: the Grey Gander. It was a bit of a misnomer. The first goose to hold the title had been grey and male so since then it had been the name of whichever goose currently living on the pond, regardless of color or sex. The current incarnation was white and a female. Still, she was beloved on campus. She spent the day gobbling crumbs that students threw to her and lording over the ducks that also lived on the pond. Every year during homecoming she was placed in a kiddie pool and paraded across campus in a float. During the rare occasions when the campus football team, also named the Grey Ganders, defeated their rivals, the Syracuse Stoats, the students would make a drunken pilgrimage to the pond to pay their respects.

"I think it's stupid that we have a goose for a mascot," said Mattie as she and Anthony strolled around the pond looking at the birds.

"What do you mean 'we?' You're not a student."

"Screw you, you know what I mean."

"Well, what do you want as a mascot?"

"I don't know. Other schools have cool animals, like badgers or wolverines. That's way better than a goose. A goose is just pillow fodder."

"It could be worse. We could have a tree for a mascot."

"Or like the Michigan State Trojans."

"What's wrong with them?"

"I guess not anything. It's just weird. And a little gross."

"You do know they are named after the Greek warriors, not the condoms?"

"Oh."

Anthony chuckled and watched the undergraduates around the pond. Two girls were throwing breadcrumbs to The Grey Gander who swam to the edge of the pond to enjoy them. She honked proudly and flapped her wings to the delight of the students who snapped pictures of her. A shadow passed overhead, but Anthony paid it no mind. He was too preoccupied with trying to think of something witty about condoms to say to Mattie. Mattie was too preoccupied with her burrito. Suddenly there was a loud splash.

Anthony gave an unmanly shriek.

"What was that?" Mattie asked. Whether it was in response to the splash or Anthony was unclear.

"What is that?" a student echoed. Some large animal had dropped from the trees into the shallow pond.

"It's some sort of ape!" another student exclaimed. The students all watched in horror as the large brown shape unfurled itself from the water and struck at The Grey Gander. The goose squawked but moved too slowly; she had lived a pampered life and was unused to rough treatment.

"Oh no!" the students gasped. One of the women who had been taking pictures dropped her phone into the pond. The other did her best to record what was happening. Mattie dropped her burrito in her excitement. Anthony, already scarred from his earlier encounter with Daisy, fainted.

The strange animal bit off the Grey Gander's head and spat it out. It then flung the still wriggling carcass over its shoulder and ran off with it on its hind legs.

The students were dumbstruck by the gruesome murder of their mascot. For a moment, no one did anything. By the time the shock wore off the strange beast had taken the dead goose and disappeared back into the trees. The dense foliage hid it from view and pursuing it would be both a literal and figurative, wild goose chase.

"Hell," Mattie said. "That's something you don't see every day."

Anthony was still unconscious and did not reply. However, the decapitated head of the Grey Gander bobbed in the pond as if she was nodding in agreement.
Chapter 6

"Shit, Anthony is going to be pissed," Darlene said looking at the missed calls on her phone. She had not counted on spending this much time with Jordan. In fact, she had not planned to spend any time with Jordan. All she had wanted to do was go to the barbershop, get her money, and leave. Jordan, however, was hesitant to reveal where he cached his money and had been leading her all across town trying to delay. Finally, after much verbal abuse on both their parts, he had taken her to the campus.

"Well, he should learn that family will always let you down," Jordan said. "It's a lesson every child should have learned at an early age. God knows I did."

"Just get me my money," Darlene said as they headed down the stairs of the sociology building into the basement.

"I just have to see if my dad is here," Jordan said.

"Really, Jordan?" Darlene said frustrated. "I'm not driving you around to make social calls. Where's the money?"

"You got me all wrong," Jordan said. "He's the last person I want to see. The money is here, in his office," he said opening the door. "The old man never locks up."

"You keep it here?" Darlene was skeptical.

"Yes, I can't put it in the bank after all. They ask too many questions."

"I suppose so," Darlene said. She figured she had a lot to learn about crime. "Doesn't anyone wonder why you sneak around campus though?"

"Naw, there's lots of weirdos around," he said. "Turn around."

"What? Why?" asked Darlene.

"Turn around," he repeated. "I don't want you to see where I hide it."

"Fine, whatever." Darlene turned around and faced the wall. Jordan went over to the bookshelf and took out a copy of Emile Durkheim's Suicide. Inside, he had cut out the pages and crammed a pile of hundred-dollar bills.

"Here," he said handing Darlene a handful.

"Finally," she said. "Well, this has been great. Until next time..."

"What? You can't just leave me here!" Jordan said. "What am I supposed to do on campus? You drove me here, you have to drive me back."

"Ugh," Darlene said. "Fine."

"And on the way, I need to stop for dinner," Jordan said.

"I'm not a taxi," said Darlene.

"You promised!"

"That was hours ago."

"Still, a promise was a promise."

"Just come on. Make it quick." After all, she had already missed Anthony and had nothing better to do.

* * *

"Come on, pick up the speed. We are going to be late," Jordan complained.

"Where are we eating?" Darlene asked. They were in a residential neighborhood that had seen better days. There were no restaurants in sight.

"We? Well, I guess it would be okay. You have to pretend to be Todd though. Stop up here," he said pointing at a house. Darlene slammed on the brakes, and they stopped at a sorry looking house in a subdivision.

"Come on," Jordan said.

"No, just get out."

"I thought you wanted to eat?"

"That was when I thought we were going to an actual restaurant."

"This is even better. When was the last time you had a home cooked meal?"

"Get out! You wasted my whole day already."

"You might as well get a free dinner then," Jordan reasoned as he got out of the car. "What else are you going to do?"

"It might come as a surprise for you," Darlene said. "But I actually don't enjoy your company."

"Rude," said Jordan. "Well, suit yourself and wait here for me then."

Darlene really did not want to spend any more time with Jordan, but she was not going to wait for him. Not in this neighborhood. Plus, he had made a good point about a free dinner. She had missed lunch and was starving. She sighed and followed him to the door.

Jordan knocked on the front door and the old woman he and Todd had met the day before on the bus answered.

"Ah! You came!" she said greeting Jordan. "Oh my," she said upon seeing Darlene. "Your friend was much more butch yesterday."

"Excuse me?" Darlene said.

"Don't be rude," Jordan said to Darlene. "Old woman, this is Darlene. Darlene, this is an old woman I met on the bus," he said introducing the two women.

"Please, please, call me Kimberly," said the old woman, "I insist."

"What a nice home you have," Darlene offered.

"Why thank you. The neighborhood is shit, but I try to keep it nice inside." Kimberly led them into her sitting room.

"Gee," said Darlene in surprise, "you certainly have a lot of...um...magazines." The coffee table and floor of the room were littered with pornographic magazines.

"My kind of house!" Jordan said eagerly settling into the couch and grabbing a magazine.

"Yes," said Kimberly. "I used to work in the industry as a photographer. I was one of the first woman pornographers in Ohio."

"A true pioneer!" offered Jordan.

"That's, um interesting," Darlene said visibly uncomfortable.

"Well, I mean there were obviously women in the porn industry before me," Kimberly explained. "But only in front of the camera. I helped change that. Look," she said pulling Darlene by the arm to a framed photograph of an interracial threesome. "This was from one of my early shots. It was quite progressive. It was after the Kent State shootings. You can't see it in here, but one of them was originally in a National Guard uniform."

"Is that so?" Kimberly said.

"And this one," said Kimberly leading her to an image of the human body, but from an angle that Darlene had never even contemplated, "this one was supposedly inspired Jimmy Carter's 'adultery in my heart' gaffe."

"That was before my time," was all Darlene could say.

"I would have probably gotten a Pulitzer, but they don't offer them for pornography. No matter how many times I tried," Kimberly sighed.

"Liberal media my ass," Jordan said.

"I do like the lighting," Darlene offered.

"Thank you," said Kimberly. "I'm retired but am willing to make an exception if the two of you are interested."

"I'm game if you are," Jordan said.

"God no!" Darlene recoiled in disgust. "Never!"

"Well, don't act so shocked," Kimberly said. "I just thought it would be polite to offer."

"Yes, well, you thought wrong. Very wrong," Darlene said edging towards the door. "I don't think this is my scene. Thanks, but I--"

"Have a seat! Have a seat!" Kimberly said pushing Darlene into an ancient loveseat before she could make an exit. It was so old that Darlene sank half a foot down in it and the cushions breathed out a cloud of dust.

"Yesterday you said you had a job for us?" Jordan said not looking up from his porno.

"Hopefully not the one you just suggested," Darlene added.

"Oh yes, of course. But we can talk business after dinner. Oh, that reminds me, I better go check the stove!" Kimberly said and hustled out of the room.

"Holy hell, Jordan! What did you get me into?"

"Hey, she has a job for me. If you want a cut of my business, then you have to put in the time."

"My contribution is not turning you in!"

"She's just a harmless old lady," Jordan said turning a page. "Have a heart and help her out. Plus, again, I can't reiterate this enough, she said she'd pay us."

"Ugh!" muttered Darlene. "I don't have time for this. Shit, I'll get Anthony to do it instead. I owe him anyway for missing lunch."

"Fine," Jordan said. "But don't expect another cut. I'm only going to pay one member of your family at a time."

"Here we are!" Kimberly said returning with a large platter of tater tots. "Dinner is served!"

"Fuck yeah!" Jordan yelled. "I love tots!"

Darlene was distracted from the disappointing supper by a line of urns on the mantle. Kimberly caught her looking.

"Oh yes," she said, "those are my wives, Calypso, Summer, Hope, Beverly, and Amanda."

"That's certainly quite a few," Darlene said.

"Well, when you are as old as I am, things tend to add up on you," said Kimberly going over to the cremains. "I like to keep them above the fireplace, it seems fitting."

"That's reasonable," said Jordan with his mouthful. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

"So many memories from each one," sighed Kimberly. "Terrible, but erotic, memories. You guys are young, you don't know how it is to lose a close friend."

"I wouldn't say that," said Darlene. "I lost my friend Virginia."

"Fuck!" Jordan said, finally pausing from eating. "I've told you a hundred times, it wasn't my fault. She was my friend too after all! Stop throwing it in my face!"

"Bullshit! Besides, how could you have told me a hundred times, we haven't seen each other for years," Darlene pointed out.

"Well, Tonya should have told you," Jordan said.

"Tonya never talks about it," Darlene said.

Kimberly, eager to hear about any drama, sat down on the couch next to Jordan. "It sounds like a terrible story," she said happily.

"It is," said Darlene. "Virginia was best friends with me and Jordan's cousin, Tonya. Jordan introduced her to drugs and she died."

"That's not what happened!" Jordan shouted. "Well, yes," he corrected himself. "Technically all of that did happen, but it wasn't like how you describe it. The context matters."

"The details don't matter!" Darlene countered. "She'd be still alive if it wasn't for you."

"The devil is always in the details," Kimberly said eagerly. "What happened?"

"It's true that I tried to impress her by giving her drugs," said Jordan. "But I'm a drug dealer, that's what I do. Birds got to fly, fish got to swim." Darlene just scoffed at this.

"Go on," Kimberly encouraged.

"Anyway, I got a call from her one night. She sounded upset, I went over to your guys' house--"

"Tonya, Virginia, and I were all living together," Darlene said becoming invested in the story despite her best efforts.

"Hot!" said Kimberly.

"It wasn't like that, we were in college and--"

"Hotter!" said Kimberly.

"You weren't there," said Jordan accusingly continuing the story. "But Tonya was. She drove me over to the zoo--"

"The zoo?" Darlene and Kimberly both interrupted.

"Yes, where else would she be at night?" Jordan asked. "Bible study? Hardly. She and I had a fight, we had agreed to see other people, but I forgot to tell her about it, so she was getting pills from Victor."

"Who is Victor?" asked Kimberly.

"He was a vet at the zoo. He had access to all medicine there. Panda aphrodisiacs, camel tranquilizers, marsupial uppers, you name it. But he was a real son of a bitch. I mean it. Worse than I am."

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself," said Kimberly.

"You might want to reserve judgment until you get to know him better," offered Darlene. "Or at least until he finishes his bullshit story."

"We got to the zoo and snuck in," there is a hole in the fence in the back if you know where to look. It was really freaky. All the animals were staring at us. Well, except the penguins. They were pleasuring themselves."

"Ew! Jordan! Be serious!" snapped Darlene. After all, they were discussing the death of their friend.

"I am serious," said Jordan earnestly. "Honest to God! Why would I make such a thing up? Anyway, we heard noises coming from the bear exhibit, not sexual noises this time. Human noises. We rushed over and saw Virginia and Victor swimming in the pool in the polar bear cage. She was high as fuck and so was Victor. He must have broken the first code of dealing and sampled his own product. She was a terrible influence on him, and vice versa. They both were screaming and laughing. The polar bears were beyond freaked out. I don't blame them. Imagine how freaky it would be if a drugged-up bear came into your house and started swimming? I'd be upset. Tonya begged me to do something, but what was I to do? I'm not a zoologist! Finally, Victor decided he wanted to write his name in the fake snow in the exhibit. That's when the bear decided he had enough. He caught Victor with his pants down and mauled the crap out of him. Literally. The dude shat himself!"

"Jordan!" snapped Darlene.

"Hey, you wanted to hear the story!" Jordan said.

"No, I didn't!" Darlene said.

"Oh," said Jordan. "Well, anyway, there isn't much to the rest. Virginia freaked out. The bears freaked out. She tried to swim over to Tonya and me, so we could pull her out."

"But the bear got her?" Kimberly said with way too much enthusiasm than what the situation called for.

"No, she got a cramp, and started to sink," said Jordan. "Tonya had enough. She jumped in and saved her."

"Oh." Kimberly was disappointed.

"We rushed her back to the car and to the hospital, but between the drugs and hyperthermia, it was too late. She died in Tonya's arms on the way to the hospital. I knew I shouldn't have stopped for the drive-thru."

"Tonya never talked about it," Darlene said. It was the first time she had heard the full story. However, she did not know how much to believe. "She just said it was your fault."

"What! My fault? I think it was pretty clear that I was totally innocent!" said Jordan. "If anything, I was the hero in the situation."

"Hero?" Darlene asked.

"Yes, if I hadn't gotten Tonya to drive to the zoo, she would not have been there and Virginia would have drowned."

Darlene was at a loss for words.

"I mean, how else would she have gotten inside if I hadn't shown her the hole in the fence?" he reasoned. "Hidden in a trash can in the bathroom? There was no time for that!"

"No matter how many friends you lose, it never gets easier," consoled Kimberly. "Why, I can't even count how many people I've watched die." The room was silent a moment. Then Kimberly brightened and asked: "Who wants ice cream!"

"I do!" Jordan said getting up.

"Could I use the restroom?" Darlene asked. She needed a few moments after hearing about Virginia.

"Certainly. It's upstairs, on the left," Kimberly said.

"Ice cream?" Jordan asked again eagerly when Darlene left. "I can get it! It's in the freezer, right?"

"Um," Kimberly hesitated, "that's okay, I'll get it."

"No, it's okay," Jordan said. He had a sweet tooth and was too impatient to wait for the old woman. He bounded in the kitchen and opened the freezer and grabbed a carton of ice cream.

"Woah!" he called out. The head of a middle-aged woman stared blankly back at him. "Why do you have a head in the freezer?"

"None of your fucking business!" snapped Kimberly coming up behind him and slamming the door shut.

"Fair enough," he said. He was a guest in her house and it was not his place to criticize. "Do you have chocolate or just vanilla?" he asked.

"I actually might have some mint chocolate chip in the back," said Kimberly visibly relieved that Jordan was not making a big deal of finding a decapitated head.

"Awesome!" he said. He swapped the cartons with her.

"About this job I want you to do," Kimberly began as Jordan ate the ice cream straight out of the carton. "It's a two-person job, but I don't think your friend is quite the right type. She seems a bit uptight."

"Yeah, you're telling me," said Jordan. "Don't worry, I got someone else that can help out."

"Oh great!" said Kimberly. "It's a house down the block. I think you know what to do," she said winking at Jordan.

"Oh, one of those jobs," Jordan said. "Yeah, no problem."

"I just want a modest finder's fee," Kimberly said.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," said Jordan.

"Jordan, are you ready to go?" asked Darlene returning from the bathroom.

"Almost," he said shoveling the ice cream into his mouth.

"Thanks for visiting me! It's not often old ladies like me get company," Kimberly said walking the Jordan and Darlene to the door. "Make sure you visit again!" Jordan shook Kimberly's hand goodbye and he followed Darlene out to her car.

"Well, what a day," muttered Darlene.

"I'll say. I haven't had a meal like that in ages!" agreed Jordan.

"She's a weird old lady," said Darlene as she started the car.

"Well, she's not hurting anyone," said Jordan finishing the ice cream carton he had taken with him. Then, remembering the head, "well, more or less."
Chapter 7

Grabby stretched out on his tree branch and gave a sigh of contentment. The carcass of the Grey Gander hung from a branch above him. It had been the best meal he had ever eaten. As he digested, the macaque reflected on the exciting day that he had.

When he woke up in his cage that morning, he just assumed that this day would be as boring and monotonous as any in his life. He'd be fed in the morning and then spend the day trying to fight with his cage mate. Most days he was unsuccessful: after many battles, his dominance was asserted, and the other monkey had learned to not rise to Grabby's challenges. Grabby was almost disappointed by his own strength.

Therefore, he was almost glad when the research technicians grabbed him to strap him into the testing apparatus. He hated being prodded and poked, but at least the humans put up a fight. They subdued him eventually. They always did. If they could not overpower him by force, they'd drug him instead. Living in a research center, one had to just accept the fact that humans always won out in the end. At least, Grabby had thought they did. After today, he was no longer sure.

He had been strapped in the contraption and waited for the electrical shocks. He knew that the humans wanted him to pull levers in a certain order. He was not a moron, but he made it a point to never give them the satisfaction of doing what they wanted him to do. He'd refuse and they would shock him and write down things in their mysterious notebooks. Then Grabby would struggle against the straps and try to bite them. It was a system that they had.

Therefore, he had been shocked when the straps had loosened and dropped him on the floor. This was not part of the usual system. At first, he thought it was a new test, but the humans had seemed as surprised as him by the turn of events.

For the first time in his life, he was free. There were no bars, no net, and no straps to constrain him. However, he did not know what to do with his new freedom. There had been dead silence in the room until one of the humans started screaming.

Grabby knew that he would be punished terribly. It was not his fault that he had been freed, but he knew that would hardly matter. In the small world of the laboratory, there was one crime that the humans despised more than any other, worse even than biting a researcher, and that crime was escaping. Monkeys who escaped disappeared from the lab and were never seen again. Grabby had no intention of becoming one of those unfortunate souls.

Therefore, while all of his companions were hooting and screaming, and while the humans were panicking, he took the first opportunity for escape that was offered; the open emergency exit. He had no notion of what lay outside the door as he had never before left the laboratory. But it could only be an improvement from where he was.

The first thing that struck him when he was outside was the light. In the research labs, there were no windows and fluorescent lights lit up the room. They were nothing compared to the sun.

The second thing that struck him was the humans. There were humans everywhere. Grabby had no idea that there were so many people in the world. In his limited experience, monkeys had always outnumbered the researchers. Men and woman stood and pointed at him. Some screamed, some just stared. Grabby did not have any experience with life outside of the lab, but even he knew that if he wanted to stay free he had to hide. So, he did the only thing that felt natural to him; he ran up to the first tree he saw (literally, there were none in the lab of course) and climbed to the top. The leafy branches shielded him from the view of the humans and he felt safe and secure.

He had spent most of the afternoon in that tree enjoying the new sense of liberty. But soon he felt hungry. Also, there was little value to freedom if he was just going to spend it sitting in a tree. That was as boring as being stuck in a cage.

He moved from limb to limb and from tree to tree. Occasionally, he skirted over the roofs of campus buildings. Everything was new and exciting to him, but he did not see anything that looked remotely appetizing or even edible until he reached the roof of the sociology building.

From his perch on the roof, he gazed at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Grabby had no concept of what a goose was. Until today had no idea that there were other animals in the world besides humans and monkeys. However, despite his inexperience, he instinctively knew a good meal when he saw one. The Grey Gander was plump, bright, and soft. He could just imagine what it would be like to sink his teeth into it.

Carefully, he leapt from the roof of the building to an elm tree. He scurried along a branch that overhung the pond until he was right above the goose. Then, he summoned his courage and let himself drop into the pond.

He had hit the water with a loud splash and was instantly shocked by how cold it was. He had never been underwater and found that he could not breathe. Luckily, the water was not deep. He stood up and found himself face to face with the Grey Gander. The goose was equally surprised to see him as he was to see her. However, Grabby had a large set of canines that the goose lacked. He had bitten the goose in the neck and his mouth filled with the delicious and metallic taste of blood.

By this time, the humans were making too much noise and Grabby knew it was a matter of time until they tried to capture him. After all, now he was guilty of killing the goose as well as escaping. He managed to through the dead bird over his back and escape back up a tree; no easy task as the goose weighed almost as much as he did even without her head.

Grabby yawned and looked about him. No doubt, it had been a remarkable day. But he was unsure what to do next. One thing was certain, there were too many humans around her for his taste. He decided to seek out somewhere more private. After a last mouthful of goose, he crept down the tree and headed in the direction of the full moon.

It was late at night when he came to Paul Tibbet Regional Park, but he knew that he had found a new home. There were no humans around, at this hour the park was deserted. The wind made an enticing whistling noise through the forest and he eagerly hurried past the Enola Gay statue and into the forest.

* * *

On the other side of town, Daisy was also reflecting on her day. But unlike Grabby, she had found it a series of disappointments. The day before she had such a fun time with Jordan and Todd in the woods that she had hoped for a repeat of the adventure. Although, she felt a little guilty about biting those drifters. After all, she was a good dog, even if she was a bitch.

Instead, there had been nothing nearly as exciting. Everyone at the center ignored her. Worse yet, was that Todd did not even come to play with her like he normally did. Instead, she had spent the afternoon in the kitchen where Mattie had left her locked when she went off with Anthony. Richard had spent the day up in the library and when he was engrossed in a book there was no distracting him. Daisy had been desperate enough that she even had tried to find Marion to see if she would play with her, but as usual, Marion was not in a playful mood. Daisy wished that they allowed her to roam the full center. The patients lived in the mansion's east wing and Daisy was sure that she could make friends with them. However, Marion strictly forbade this.

So, instead, Daisy had to entertain herself. She had roamed around the first floor of the house looking for spiders. Daisy loved spiders, especially the tangy ones that she occasionally found underneath the kitchen table. She did not find any there today but had found two large juicy centipedes in one of the bathrooms.

Momentarily satisfied, she settled down for a nap only to get up later due to an upset stomach. Sometimes centipedes had this effect on her. They were not as easy on the digestive tract as spiders. She needed to go outside, and quickly. There was no time to go find Richard or Marion to let her out, so she turned to her last resort; the small doggie door.

Richard had installed the doggie door when she had been a puppy and forget to take into account how much she would grow. Therefore, it was quite a squeeze and Daisy hated being squeezed. She stuck her head through it and managed to get it and her two front legs out. Then her middle got stuck. She gave a low whimper; she did not know what to do. In her panic, she had an accident and relived her upset stomach on the kitchen floor on the other side of the door. That did the trick, and she was able to slide the rest of the way out.

Now, she found herself outside when it was no longer necessary. She wandered around the backyard looking for something to do but was interrupted by the arrival of Todd's B.M.W. Upon seeing the car, Daisy barked excitedly thinking that Todd had finally arrived to play with her after all. She was cut short when Mattie stepped out of the driver's side.

"Daisy! Bad girl!" Mattie scolded. "What are you doing out so late?"

Daisy whimpered, she did not like being chastised. After all, it was the centipede's fault, not her's, that she had an upset stomach.

"Come here," Mattie said harshly grabbing her by the collar and leading her into the kitchen. She gave a shriek when stepped in the mess on the floor.

"Bad girl! Bad girl!" Mattie yelled swatting her.

"What is it?" asked Marion coming down the stairs. "Mattie? Are you just getting home? What time is it? What are you doing out so late?" Marion

"Daisy made a mess all over the floor!" Mattie complained. "Then I stepped in it! And I was wearing sandals!"

"Oh dear," Marion said getting some paper towels. "Are you sure it was Daisy and not Grandpa?"

"Ew! I didn't even think of that!" Mattie said in horror.

"And besides, you didn't answer my question," Marion said. "Where have you been? You were supposed to meet with the wedding planner with me!"

"I met with her assistant instead," said Mattie. "We went and got a burrito. Oh, and then I saw the second most disgusting thing of the day. While we were on campus a monster killed the mascot! Anthony fainted. He's such a dweeb."

"Mattie, you should be more careful," said Marion. "What will Todd think?"

"I don't know," Mattie said confused. "Did he have some sort of special connection to the Grey Gander?"

"I mean," explained Marion, "about you going out to dinner with another boy."

"It was just a burrito," Mattie said.

"With all this money I'm spending on the wedding, we can't afford anything to go wrong," explained Marion. She had been hoping that Todd's family would offer to split the cost, but so far, no offer had arrived. "Marrying Todd is supposed to solve our money problems, not make them worse."

Just then, the two women heard another car drive up. Moments later, Darlene entered the house.

"What's everyone doing up?" asked Darlene. "And what's this on the floor? Has Richard been down here?"

"It was Daisy," said Mattie. "At least we hope it was."

"Yes, apparently Mattie left her locked up while she gallivanted off with your brother," said Marion.

"Ew! Mom! We did not do any 'galivanting.'"

"Oh, yeah. I was supposed to meet Anthony for lunch but got wrapped up in other business," said Darlene. "Speaking of Marion, can we speak in private?"

"Why? You can talk in front of me!" snapped Mattie. She hated when Darlene treated her like a child. Darlene was hesitant but continued.

"I think I found out how the patients are getting the drugs inside," she said.

"How?" asked Marion. Then added, "wait, never mind, don't tell me. I can't tell the police what I don't know. I have a feeling Richard must be involved and I have enough problems already."

"I took care of it," said Darlene proudly. She figured she might as well get the praise for solving the problem in addition to a cut of the profits.

"What would I do without you?" said Marion. "I know the decision to quit school wasn't easy, but I really think that you enjoy working at the center full time. We certainly need you. Now if you excuse me, I'm going back to bed."

"Good night Mattie. Hope you enjoyed my brother," Darlene said giving Mattie a nasty smile.

"I hate it here," muttered Mattie when Marion and Darlene were out of earshot. Mattie bent down on her knees to clean up Daisy's accident. She violently scrubbed the floor pretending that she was scouring the smile off Darlene's face.

"What a smug bitch," Mattie said as she cleaned.

Daisy barked at the word 'bitch.'

"Not you," said Mattie.
Thursday, July 12th
Chapter 8

"At last!" Sam yelled in relief as she finally extricated herself from the trash can. It was a few hours before dawn, and she had spent the night trapped inside, struggling to free herself. It had been the one flaw in her, what she assured herself, otherwise marvelous plan to make her statement about religion versus science.

Except for getting trapped, everything was going according to the plan that she had made that afternoon. Sam had been deeply upset after her run-in with Professor Baker. She did not appreciate being groped by a man old enough to be her father. Especially as she had her own tensions with her dad. Her father had disapproved of Sam's transition. Not the sex change, he had been quite open-minded about that, but about her decision to become a born-again Christian. It was a subject that they argued about constantly.

She had skipped getting a burrito and gone home instead wash the marijuana smoke out of her hair. By the time she was done with her shower, her father had returned home from campus and was working at the dining room table.

"What's this?" she asked him.

"Oh, just some plans for an exhibit at the zoo," said Professor Samuel Bell. "They asked for help from the Zoology Department and they handed it off to me. Such as the work of an emeritus professor." He acted like it was a burden, but Sam knew he was happy to have the work and to be involved. Between retirement and the brutal slaying of his wife, the professor was quite lonely. While Sam provided some company, her constant harping about religion got on his nerves.

Sam studied the plans on the table more carefully; she was always concerned whenever her father brought up his work and his fellow scientists, especially zoologists. Along with faculty, college students and lawyers, zoologists were among the worst sinners. She had been right to be concerned; the plans laid out an exhibit on human evolution to be displayed in the monkey house.

"Why are you passing off all of these lies," Samantha said.

"Now Sam, let's not have this argument again," her dad sighed. "I don't come to your church and criticize the Bible. Leave the science to me. Unless you want to go back to school? You were such a promising student. I know that the deadlines for next semester have passed, but I'm sure I can pull some strings through the department. I'll even pay the tuition."

Sam blushed with embarrassment, she remembered winning the science fair all those times in high school. But that was the old Sam.

"I will only enroll again when that campus is cleansed by hellfire," she scoffed and went to her room. She did not stay there long; she was not going to be like those student Christians who only talked about doing things; she was going to take action. She would put her own statement in the monkey house before it could be defiled by scientists like her father. She packed a purse full of spray paint cans and snuck out of the house.

Sam had arrived at the zoo half an hour before it closed and looked for the least crowded restroom that she could find. She decided on the ones outside the herpetological building. They were filthy, and therefore empty of visitors. She taped an "OUT OF ORDER" sign on the door to keep the custodial staff out. Then, she lifted herself into the trash can. It was a bit overkill she knew, but she did not want to take any chances. Hopefully, any night watchmen would by-pass a broken restroom, but if they didn't, they certainly wouldn't check the trash cans. Judging by the cleanliness of the restroom, no one had checked them for a long time.

Either she had been exhausted, or there was not enough oxygen in the trash can, but Sam soon fell asleep. When she awoke, she had no idea what time it was. She tried to check and realized she could not move. Her arms and legs were asleep. She attempted all sort of contortions to get her circulation flowing and to try to get out of the can. Eventually, after much work, she succeeded in knocking the entire thing over and she spilled out on the filthy floor covered in trash.

Once she was finally free, she stretched out on the floor and gasped the clean, fresh air. At least fresh compared to the trash can; the bathroom was quite rank. Then, she got up, cracked all of her joints, washed off the best she could, and carefully snuck out of the restroom.

The bathroom that she had chosen was unfortunately quite far from the monkey house. She would have to sneak across the zoo grounds without being seen by a watchman, guard, or zookeeper. Sam checked her purse to make sure she had all of her things.

"Here goes nothing," she whispered to herself and began creeping across the zoo. As a kid, she had loved going to the zoo with her parents, but at night, devoid of visitors, the zoo was a sinister place. Because her dad worked for the zoology department he had been able to get his friends to take the family behind the scenes and Sam often got to help feed the many different animals. In a different life, she may have decided to become a zookeeper herself. But that was before God choose her to become born again. Now she could not imagine herself being anything so sinful as a zookeeper.

Most of the animals were asleep, but the few that were awake glared at her like she was an intruder; which she was. Up ahead she saw a light flashing; it was a night watchman patrolling. She ducked into the artic exhibit to let the watchman pass. Sam held her breath hoping the watchmen would not enter the exhibit.

As waited crouched by the penguin exhibit she heard a bizarre noise. Against her better judgment, she looked through the glass and gasped.

"What in God's name?" she exclaimed forgetting to keep her voice down. If she needed more evidence that there was something evil going on at the zoo, here it was. There, right in front of her, one of God's supposedly innocent creatures was sinning.

This was unacceptable. Luckily the watchman had gone so Sam was free to act. She put her purse down and took out a can of spray paint. She took good care of her body, she had paid a lot of money for a lot of it. Therefore, even with one hand holding the spray can, it was easy for her to jump and pull herself over the glass separating the visitors from the penguins. She hung onto the glass and aimed her paint at the penguin. At home, she sprayed her cat with a water bottle when it misbehaved. She hoped that penguins were similar to cats.

"Bad penguin!" she said holding down the button. The paint did not shoot out far enough to get on the penguin. If anything, instead of being discouraged, the bird was further aroused.

"Stop it! Bad penguin!" Sam yelled again trying to reach further. Her hold on the glass slipped and she splashed into the penguin's pool.

The water was ice cold and Sam felt herself going into shock. Her legs were sore from being cramped in the trash can and her body was weighted with wet clothes. Despite her athleticism, she began to sink.

"Oh, well," she thought to herself, "at least I died doing God's work." In a way, she would be a martyr. She only wished there was someone else to witness her sacrifice than the penguins.

"Hold on!" she heard a voice call out from the surface. She assumed it was God letting her know that her judgment was near. A hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder and she felt herself being dragged to the rock the penguins were roosting on. She sat up and spat out a mouthful of water. The rock was covered in what she hoped was penguin guano.

"Are you okay?" the voice asked. Sam looked up at her rescuer, it turned out to not be God, but a handsome zookeeper instead.

"I think so," she said.

"Come on, let's get you dried off," he said helping her to her feet. "You don't want to get hypothermia. It's happened before." He led her out of the penguin exhibit and into the zookeeper station across from the monkey house.

"My name is Willie," the zookeeper said after Sam had changed into a spare zookeeper uniform and dried her hair with a towel. "You were lucky I was out for a walk. Otherwise, you would have drowned."

Sam just shivered but kept her mouth shut. She did not want to incriminate herself.

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing? Or who you are?" he asked when Sam did not immediately reply.

"I'm Sam," she finally said.

"Well Sam," said Willie, "Nice to meet you. It's not often that I rescue a beautiful woman."

Sam blushed when Willie called her beautiful. But she only said, "You didn't need to rescue me, I could have gotten out. I just had to stop those sinful birds first."

"Those horny penguins are always making trouble," sighed Willie. "You wouldn't believe how many angry letters we get from horrified school groups."

"Aren't you going to call the cops?" asked Sam.

"We can't do that. If we called the police every time an animal ejaculated we'd never be off the phones," Willie explained.

"I mean, are you going to call the police on me?" Sam clarified.

"Oh. I'm not sure. Do you want me to?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, then," said Willie. "Let's hold off on that. Maybe we won't need them. What were you doing? Before the penguin with a hard-on distracted you?"

Ever since her mother was murdered, Sam had found it difficult to trust strangers. However, with Willie, she found that herself strangely comfortable. Sam did not have many friends. She had driven most of them away with her religious beliefs. Normally, she did not mind the loneliness, but sitting there with Willie she found herself desperate for someone to talk and found herself pouring out the whole story; including her plans to vandalize the primate exhibit.

"Well, I can't get behind you on that creationist bullshit, sorry," he said seeing Sam grimace. "But I don't blame you for wanting to sabotage the monkey house. There are so many other reasons to be pissed at those furry fuckers. People think the monkeys are adorable, but they never had to work with them." Willie then spent the next several hours regaling her with his experiences working with the monkeys at the zoo. If someone else had been telling her these stories, she would have found them to be vulgar and horrific. However, Willie had a way of making them funny even to Sam's prudish tastes.

As the sun rose, he took her around the zoo to see it before it was full of visitors.

"Don't you think its creepy when it's so empty?" she asked.

"Creepy? No way!" said Willie. I purposely chose to work the night shifts. I can't stand all those noisy brats and their spoiled parents. Just because they spent fifteen bucks on a ticket they think it gives them a right to knock on the cages and torture the poor animals."

"That's true," conceded Sam. Now that Willie mentioned it, she did find that the zoo was much nicer, almost romantic, at night. "I never knew met someone who hated other people as much as I do," she told him.

"I really like you too Sam," Willie said. "Would you like to see me some other time, some night when you aren't picking fights with penguins?"

Sam blushed and nodded. For someone who had been one, she had not had much experience with boys. But she really liked Willie. She crossed her legs to hide her erection; in any new relationship, some surprises are better left for later.
Chapter 9

"Uncle Daryl, are you okay?" Tonya called out from Daryl's doorstep. She knocked on the door again. Tonya began to grow worried. Daryl was not a heavy sleeper; in fact, he often complained of insomnia. Most mornings he was up bright and early ready to complain about how horrible he felt.

Despite Daryl's many, many faults, Tonya could not help but like the old man. Her parents had moved to the West Coast while her brother worked in Washington D.C. Daryl and Jordan were the only family Tonya had left in Ohio. After Virginia's death, she did not like seeing Jordan, but she still stopped in to check on Daryl and helped him with groceries and housework. While Daryl was so focused on his own health issues, most of which were all in his head, he was otherwise harmless and seemed to enjoy Tonya's company. In many ways, he treated her as the daughter he never had. Compared to the son he did have, she was clearly the golden child and the favorite.

She checked the time, she would have to get to work soon. Normally, she checked on Daryl in the evenings, but last night she had run too late waiting for a locksmith to open her van. She had been furious that Anthony had locked the keys in the van and disappeared, but at least now she had a reason to fire him. Despite the friction it would create with Darlene she was looking forward to seeing the last of Anthony.

"Uncle Daryl?" she knocked again before taking a key from her pocket and letting herself into the house. It was a mess, as usual. Clothes and old newspapers were scattered all over the place. Daryl was not much of a housekeeper and Tonya was too busy with her business and own life to spend time cleaning other people's houses.

In between the regular mess, Tonya noticed a disturbing set of footprints in what appeared to be blood. The trail of blood led to the living room floor where Tonya found Daryl laying on the couch in a pair of filthy coveralls. His feet were bare and bloody.

"Daryl! Are you all right?" she gasped.

Daryl just waved her away.

"What are you wearing? What happened?" Tonya asked running towards Daryl to verify that he was still alive. He looked awful, for all she could tell his dismissive wave could have been rigor mortis.

"AIDS monkeys. Had to run. Took off boots off. Too tight. Had to run," Daryl moaned into a couch pillow.

"What?" asked Tonya. Her uncle was not making sense.

"Almost got S.H.I.V.-ed," Daryl said. "I was too tired to clean my feet. The cuts will get infected now and I'll die of toe cancer just like Bob Marley."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but I'm 100% sure that is completely wrong," Tonya said helping him to sit up. He smelled terrible and looked worse. She went into the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee. After Daryl had gulped down a couple cups of it, he was finally awake and coherent enough to go upstairs to shower and change.

Tonya waited patiently for her uncle downstairs. She looked at one of the few family photographs laying on the coffee table. It was a picture of Daryl, his wife, and Jordan at the zoo. Tonya sighed. Both the zoo and Jordan reminded her of the terrible night that Virginia died.

Finally, she called out, "Daryl! What's taking so long?"

"I'm coming," said Daryl wheeling himself to the head of the stairs in a wheelchair.

"Daryl! Be care--" shouted Tonya. But it was too late. Daryl had accidentally wheeled himself down the stairs. He yelled in shock as he fell and rolled down the steps, the wheelchair thudding after him. Chair and man became entangled at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" Tonya asked rushing over to help him. "What did you think you were doing?" For being a professor, Daryl often acted like a child.

"My feet hurt from all the cuts. Who knows what got in there? I probably have foot herpes and Hepatitis C. Probably all the Hepatitis, the full alphabet from Hepatitis A to Hepatitis Z," groaned Daryl. "I decided I'd take the wheelchair, so I wouldn't have to stand on them."

"Why would you think that?" Tonya asked. "And why do you even have a wheelchair? And upstairs no less?"

"Well, I have two, but my downstairs wheelchair was too far away," Daryl said. "Be careful, I think I messed up my arm. I can't move it."

"It doesn't look broken," Tonya said. She was by no means certain of this, but she had no time to take him to the emergency room. "It's probably just sprained. Do you have a sling?"

"Yeah, in the living room first aid kit," moaned Daryl. "The one by the sofa." Tonya went over and grabbed the kit. After several tries, Daryl was squirming and complaining too much to stay still, she managed to put his arm in a sling.

"Now take your medicine and go to bed," she ordered. It was clear that he was going to no use at work. He seldom was even in the best of circumstances.

"Yes, mom," he said sarcastically but followed her orders.

* * *

As soon as he heard her leave he threw the covers off of him and went back downstairs. It was not that he wanted to go to campus, he hated his office, but he had left his car and wallet there the day before and needed to reclaim them. He grabbed a banana for breakfast, but it reminded him too much of the events yesterday, so he threw it in the trash and grabbed a nutrition shake instead. He gargled it down and then picked up the phone and called the only friend he had, Joe Baker. It went to voicemail.

"Hello Joe, this is Daryl. Are you there? Joe? Are you there? Well, I need a ride to campus. Call back once you get this."

"Damn, he must have left already. Or is still sleeping. Fucking Hippie," scoffed Daryl to himself. He debated calling his son Jordan for a ride but realized that he was not that desperate He'd rather walk instead.

He grabbed an umbrella for sun protection and headed outside towards the bike path that ran along the river towards campus. To do so he had to cut across a playground. He nodded to a young mother who was watching two toddlers play on the equipment.

"Good day madam, beautiful day out!" he said. The woman just glared at him, confused and alarmed about why a strange old man was talking to her and her kids. The fact that Daryl had an umbrella on a perfectly clear day probably also led to her trepidation.

Daryl did not notice and called out to her kids, "Be careful now, the playground is a dangerous place!"

He continued to the path but found his way blocked by a large Canadian goose standing in the middle of the bike path. The goose jumped up and hissed at him.

"Whoa, easy there," said Daryl, "I don't want to hurt you. Or get bird flu."

He tried to back away, but the goose, still threatened, followed him while hissing.

"Stop it!" he yelled. He swatted at the bird with his umbrella.

The goose did not appreciate being swatted at. He snapped at Daryl. The goose only intended to frighten him and expected him to jump back in time. However, the goose did not account for Daryl's slow reflexes. Rather than closing on the air as he intended, his beak closed on his groin.

"Ouch, my penis!" Daryl yelled out, not for the first time in his life. This was too much for him. "I'd take that shit from an A.I.D.S. monkey," he yelled at the goose, "But I will be damned if I take it from your sorry avian ass!" He attacked the bird with his umbrella and began to hit her with all of the strength he could muster with his one good arm.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Daryl could hear the children crying from the playground.

"No worries, Madam," Daryl called out. "I have the situation under control. I will soon dispatch the foul beast!"

"Get over here," the woman said hustling her children to safety. She then took out a phone and called 9-1-1. "I need the police!" Daryl heard her shout in the phone.

"Wait, why?" Daryl asked taking a break from beating the goose. Like his son, he was not fond of the authorities. The bird summoned his strength and lashed once more at Daryl.

"Hello, I'm at Bennet Park and there is a homeless man here yelling about his penis and beating off a goose," the woman stammered. "No! This is not a prank call!"

It seemed to Daryl that this was as good as a time as any to continue on his way. Additionally, the goose by this time was very much dead. He folded his battered umbrella and hurried down the bike path before the cops could show up and detain him.

* * *

After killing the goose, Daryl had no further incidents on his journey to campus until he was stopped at the entrance to the sociology building by two students handing out fliers.

"No thank you, I'm not interested in finding Jesus," said Daryl assuming they were part of one of the campus' religious groups.

"No, these are for the funeral for the Grey Gander," the young student pointed out. Daryl glanced at the flier and saw a goose emblazoned on the front. He instantly recoiled.

"How dare you!" he accused the students who looked at him in confusion. "I've had just enough out of these geese!" he snarled throwing the flier to the ground and stormed into the building.

Daryl's heart was racing and he feared he was on the brink of cardiac arrest. To settle himself, and to clean the sweat and goose blood from his face, he went to the restroom before stopping at his office. Todd was just on his way out as Daryl entered.

"Oh God, not again," Todd said under his breath.

At first, Daryl did not recognize his student. But then, forgetting about geese, he broke into a huge grin. "Oh, hi there Todd!" said Daryl.

"Hello Professor Lewis," Daryl said, "everything all right?" he pointed to the broken umbrella, the arm in a sling, and the blood and feathers stuck on Daryl's clothes.

"Oh, this, ah yes," said Daryl without elaborating. "Say, I wanted to speak with you about something."

"Oh, I haven't seen Jordan in a while," lied Todd, "he and I aren't really friends anymore." Todd had been deeply upset by his experience with Jordan in the woods. He had lived a privileged life and never had to hurt anyone before. It disgusted him to watch Jordan attack the drifters. Some of them looked barely older than Todd himself.

He had told no one about the experience though, not even Mattie. He could not have even if he had wanted to; she hadn't been answering her phone. He was beginning to worry that she was seeing someone else.

"Oh, fine, that's just fine," Daryl said not paying close attention to Todd. "Actually, this is about Darlene and Sociology 244."

"Oh, I don't know what my fall schedule--" Todd said trying to head Daryl off.

"Yes, have you seen her recently? Professor Jenkins and I are a bit concerned about her progress."

"I thought you said she was dropping out to work for Mattie's mom at the center?" Todd said.

"Mattie? What do, you yes, I remember, you are engaged to the young Cunningham girl aren't you?"

"Yes," Todd said.

"Hmm, I see," said Daryl. He wondered if Jenkins knew about this. It would look bad to lose one student to the rehab center while having another one marry into it. "Well, let's just keep this between ourselves for now," Daryl said, checking belatedly to make sure the rest of the bathroom was empty. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just stay out of trouble."

"Bridge? Trouble?" Todd asked. He began to worry that Daryl knew about what had happened in the woods. However, before Todd could ask any other questions, Daryl had forgotten why he went to the restroom and was already on his way down the hall still covered in blood and feathers.

Daryl threw the door to his office open and sank down into his chair. He opened up the desk drawer and sighed with relief. The gun was still hidden under Darlene's terrible dissertation.

"If I had you, I wouldn't have had to break my umbrella," he said to the gun.

"Daryl, do you have a minute?" asked Professor Jenkins who entered through the open door.

Daryl, slammed the drawer shut, "Uh yes, yes I do. But I haven't talked to Darlene yet."

"Oh, this isn't about that," Jenkins said, "what happened to your arm?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just a slight compound fracture. I'm more concerned about this headache I've had all day. I'm sure it's a tumor or something, but when I went--"

"Actually," Jenkins interrupted before Daryl could get going about his health problems, "the department just needs a head count for how many faculty members will be attending the memorial service this Friday."

"I thought I told those kids," Daryl said angrily remembering the students handing out fliers, "I'll be damned if I go to a funeral for that silly goose!"

"Gee, Daryl." Jenkins closed the door. "I know he was odd but have some respect. Besides, I thought you two were friends?"

"What," asked Daryl. "I'd never be friends with a bird-brained idiot."

"He did have his issues," agreed Jenkins. "After all, he was the reason for the campus had to have all of those sexual harassment seminars."

"The goose?" asked Daryl.

"Oh I think he did a lot worse than goosing," Jenkins said.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Daryl asked.

"Professor Baker. Didn't you hear? Joe Baker from the literature department died in a fire yesterday. There were some mysterious consequences that are still being investigated, but the university still wants to have a good showing at the memorial. Closed casket of course."

"Oh," Daryl said shocked, "no, I hadn't heard, that's awful. I had just seen him that morning."

"I'm sorry you found out this way," Jenkins said. "I assumed you had heard the news. But since I have you here," continued Jenkins, "and you brought up the topic, I have been thinking about Darlene, and we probably should--"

"Actually," Daryl said eager to avoid the coming conversation, "the news about Joe has hit me pretty hard." He slid past Jenkins out the door. "I think I'm going to need a few days of bereavement leave to recover. We'll have to talk about Darlene some other time."
Chapter 10

Detective Potter stared at the photos on his desk. It had been a hell of a week. Normally, there were very few crimes in the small college town. Most of the issues that occupied the police force where noise complaints or reports of underaged drinking. Plus, those occasional calls about public indecency at the zoo. However, the past few days had been different.

First, there had been the deaths at the Cunningham Rehab Center. With the recent drug epidemic ravaging the state, overdose cases were sadly all too common. The town had largely been spared, except for the rehab center. The fact that these deaths had occurred all at once, and in a rehab clinic of all places, was concerning. After all, the patients had come there to get better. The fact that some drug dealer was preying on them was disgusting. The report from the medical examiner had added to the concerns; the bodies all showed traces of new experimental drugs not seen before in Ohio. He personally had questioned Marion Cunningham herself about her patients' deaths, but she had not been helpful. She claimed to have no idea how drugs were getting in her center, but Potter had his suspicions that Marion knew more than she was telling. He was pretty sure she was protecting someone. Perhaps her no good daughter.

Secondly, there had been the strange incident on campus yesterday at an animal laboratory. As it was an accident with no signs of foul play, Potter had not seen it himself, but his friends on the force had filled him in. Even without a crime being committed, it had been quite a mess. Apparently, a bunch of monkeys had gotten loose and attacked a group of professors. There had been some injuries and a lot of emotional trauma on the part of both the professors and the monkeys. At first, Potter almost did not believe it, but his friends had shown him a severed ear in an evidence bag as proof. If he needed more proof, there were all those reports later that evening about an escaped macaque that had made it out of the center. Apparently, they had not recaptured all of them. Most of the calls were from upset students trying to report a murder. The dispatchers had their hands full trying to explain to the students that goose murder was a problem for animal control, not the police.

Third, and most concerning to Potter, was the suspicious fire that had happened on the poorer side of town. At first, all assumed it was just an accident. Buildings in that neighborhood were not up to code and occasionally there were electrical fires that got out of control. However, after what the firefighters found in the remains of the building, it was clear that this was no normal fire and no normal barbershop.

The photos that Potter had taken did not accurately capture the carnage. They certainly did not capture the odor of burning flesh that had filled the building. Once the firemen had declared the building safe to enter, Potter had walked through the front doors with the medical examiner into what remained of the barbershop. Most of the ceiling was gone, and the sunlight glistened on the puddles of water on the floor left from fighting the flames. It was a weird juxtaposition seeing everything burnt and soaked at the same time.

In the middle of the floor was a black heap of something. At first, Potter did not recognize it as the shape as a man. Once he did, he wished that he had not. When he was a boy, Potter would sometimes see images of mummies and preserved bodies in the issues of the National Geographic Magazines that his parents subscribed to. He had always skipped them to look for pictures of topless tribeswomen. The body in the barbershop reminded Potter of how much he missed those tribeswomen.

Most of Joe's distinguishing features had perished in the fire. What was left was a man huddled over a pile of something. Potter indicated to the officers who accompanied him to turn over the body. They lifted a beam of the roof of the man and gingerly turned the corpse over to its side.

This gave Potter a better view of what the man was protecting. The side facing the floor was in better shape than the rest of the body. Potter knelt and looked more carefully. The man had been huddled over a pile of small packages and pill bottles.

"The flames caught him with his pants down," an officer said.

"Spare me the image," Potter said.

"No seriously," the officer said pointing to the man's lower half.

"Detective," another officer said. Potter appreciated the interruption. "You will want to have a look at this." Potter walked over to the officer who was kneeling over an overturned file cabinet. There were several other cabinets like it against the wall. He opened it and gasped.

In all of his career, Potter had never seen so many drugs in one place. Not even in the station's evidence room. There were some drugs that Potter had never even heard of before leading him to suddenly think of the bodies from the Cunningham Center.

Potter was still not sure what had happened in the barbershop. Was it gang related? Did someone set the fire? If so, why did they leave so many behind? Also, what did the professor have to do with it all? Where was the owner of the shop? How did the deaths at the rehab center fit into the picture?

* * *

"Detective," a cop interrupted Potter's train of thought, "that student you wanted to see is here."

"Thanks," Potter said. He threw the photos on his desk and gathered up several manila folders. He had received an anonymous tip about a student who had been seen arguing with the professor just before the fire occurred. It was unlikely that he had anything to do with the drugs, but so far it was his only lead.

"Samuel Bell?" he asked entering the interrogation room without looking up.

"Yes," a woman answered. Potter looked up in surprise. He had expected a young man, not the busty woman that was sitting in the chair.

"I go by Sam, now," said the woman.

"Very well," Potter said. "I suppose you know why you are here."

"Not really," Sam said angrily. "He said that he wouldn't call the cops. I believed him, fool that I was." She had tears in her eyes at the thought of Willie's betrayal.

"Professor Baker? Why was he going to call the cops?" Potter asked. This was already more of a lead than he had anticipated.

"Baker?" Sam said. She was relieved that it had nothing to do with her trip to the zoo and the handsome zookeeper. "That's what this is about? I barely inhaled, and it was his marijuana anyway."

"Wait, go back," Potter said. "So, you admit that you and the Professor were involved with drugs?"

"I'm not admitting anything," Sam said. "I barely know the man. I don't know what he told you, but he is the guilty one. I was just trying to teach him a lesson," Sam said.

"Well, you certainly did that." This was easier than he had expected.

"I'm glad he finally decided to change his evil ways."

"Well, I think his days of evil are over. You made sure of that when you killed him."

"When I what?".

"Joe Baker died in that fire."

"What fire? Why am I here?"

"You were the last one to be seen with Professor Joe Baker," explained Potter. "A witness has you down as yelling at him. Apparently, you said he was going to burn in Hell?"

"And you think I killed him?"

"Well, he did die in a fire. Right after you said that you hoped he burned."

"In Hell," clarified Sam. "Not in Ohio."

"I'm not sure that a judge will see any difference," Potter said.

"God is my only judge."

"I don't think he's big on murder either."

"Look, I didn't kill him," Sam said. "As you mentioned, it's one of the commandments. 'Though shalt not kill.'"

"With your history--"

"Just because I'm transgendered doesn't make me a criminal!"

"I meant the trouble with your mom."

"What do you know about my mom? What does she have to do with any of this?"

"It's all in the files." Potter pointed to the folders. "Before my time on the force of course. But clearly, you were traumatized by her murder. It's no wonder you decide to lash out. I almost don't blame you. I'm sure if you confess, they'll go easy on you considering everything."

"I did not do anything," Sam said. "I'm innocent."

Potter sighed. It looked like the case was not going to be as easy as he hoped when Sam had almost confessed. "Why don't you just tell me where you were yesterday."

"I'd rather not."

"Why? Are you hiding something?"

"Nothing that you would be concerned with." It would be hard to explain that she had spent much of the afternoon and evening hiding in a trashcan in a zoo restroom.

"You have to help me help you."

"Can I get a glass of water?"

"Um, well sure," Potter sighed. It wasn't the type of "help" he had meant. "Why don't you think about everything and get ready to tell me the truth when I get back." He got up and left the interrogation room and returned a few minutes later with a paper cup.

"Thanks," Sam said.

"So, have you thought about it? Anything you'd like to share?" Potter asked.

"I do not have a choice, do I?"

"You do of course, but I'd hate to have to get lawyers involved."

"Me too." Lawyers were as bad as professors and zoologists. Sam sighed. "After I yelled at Joe, who groped me by the way," she added, "I went home. My dad was there. Then I went to the zoo and spent the rest of the evening with a friend I met there." It was as close to the truth as she was willing to get.

"Okay," Potter said taking down her statement. "I'll check on this. Thanks for coming in." He did not think he was going to get any more information from her. As he had suspected at the beginning, Sam was a false lead. Although things had seemed promising for a moment.

* * *

Sam eagerly left the station. As soon as she was safe across the street she opened her purse and took out the files she had stolen from Potter.

When her mother was murdered, Sam was young enough that he did not want anything to do with the investigation. He was too upset and just wanted his mother back. His father felt the same way and had kept Sam protected from any information. However, now that she was older, she had questions that needed answers. It was too painful for her father to talk about, so she did not bring up the subject. When Detective Potter had pointed out the files, she had seen her opportunity and had quietly swapped the papers inside with some of her religious pamphlets when he went to get her a cup of water. She figured that they might do the detective some good. Next to professors, students, lawyers, and scientists, police detectives were some of the worse sinners.

Samantha pored over the pages while waiting for the bus. As she knew, the case was unsolved but there was a suspect: one of her mother's students. This woman had been older and so stood out from the rest of the class. According to the files, she had been involved in a series of suspicious deaths throughout central Ohio, but there had never been any evidence to tie her to any crimes. What she had not known was that this woman still lived in Ohio. In fact, she lived just across town from Sam.

Sam glared at the photograph of the woman. Here was another opportunity to do God's work. There might not have been enough evidence for the cops, but that didn't mean there wasn't enough for her.
Chapter 11

"Once again the Administration is trying to bust my non-existent balls," Denise Robinson said to her best friend, and assistant editor, Peter Jones after she got off of a heated call with the dean's office.

"What about now?" Peter asked. He and Denise were in charge of putting out the summer issues of the campus paper, The Honking Goose. As a member of the press, Denise made it a point to aggravate the administration in every way she could. Denise's parents had attended the university back when it had been a bastion of liberal ideas and the counterculture. They had entertained their daughter by telling of their exploits and all the protests that they had been involved in. When she enrolled at the university though, Denise was disappointed to learn that campus had changed since her parent's time. The administration was much more conservative and the student body largely apathetic about the modern world. Denise made it her personal mission to try to change this. Peter was largely along for the ride.

Denise made sure to look the part of the anti-establishment anarchist she hoped to be. This was relatively easy, as Midwestern sensibilities set the bar for non-conformity relatively low. She kept her hair short and had covered her arms in tattoos. However, for an anarchist, she was quite the authoritarian when it came to running her paper. She and Peter had a dozen freshmen and sophomore interns working for them. Denise made sure they were all busy scoping out stories and following up leads.

The big story for the week had been the recent deaths at the Cunningham Rehab Center. Denise was hoping to write it as an expose and submit it for one of the state's investigative journalism awards. However, she had been forced to set the story aside when word of the Grey Gander's death reached the news offices. The paper's circulation had been dropping, and Denise had to focus on the stories that would connect would resonate with the student audience. The death of the campus mascot was perfect.

It also presented the perfect opportunity to raise some cash for the paper. It was hard to find businesses willing to advertise in a student paper, especially with an anarchist bent. Therefore, since taking it over, Denise had seen the profits of The Honking Goose drop dangerously low. With the Gander's death, Denise saw an opportunity to capitalize. She had quickly planned a giant wake to celebrate the Grey Gander. Students could come and pay their respects to the bird along with paying for food and drinks. She had printed out fliers and sent interns to hand them out across campus. Peter had called up the catering service run by Tonya Lewis and booked her for Friday evening. They had located some illegal fireworks to celebrate the occasion. As most of the interns were underaged, Denise had been busy ordering alcohol for the wake when she had received the phone call from the dean's office.

"The dean wants us to cancel the party," said Denise fuming.

"What? We already spent too much," said Peter. The illegal fireworks had really strained their, already meager, budget.

"They scheduled a memorial service for that stoner professor at the same time as ours. They wanted us to cancel ours 'out of respect'."

"Well, I did like Professor Baker," said Peter, "plus, they may have a point, he was a professor and a human after all."

Denis was not sure if Peter was deliberately trying to upset her, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I guess Baker was all right. But," she added, "you know how he loved parties. He'd much prefer us to hold ours than some stuffy memorial service filled with faculty. Anyway, we scheduled ours first. It's unfair for the university to expect us to accommodate them."

"Are you sure Professor Baker would be okay with it?" asked Peter, "Are you sure he'd not be pissed at being upstaged by a bird funeral."

Denise slapped his bandaged hand. He had hurt himself on a motorbike and had recently lost a finger. Peter grimaced in pain.

"What did you do that for?" he said.

"For being such a dick. You should never take the side of the Dean. You know that," she chastised. "That goes for everyone here!" she announced to the whole office.

"So, what are we going to do?" Peter asked.

"We are going to say, 'fuck them,'" Denise answered. "We'll make sure our wake is so unbelievable that no one will pay any attention to the administration. How many fliers did we print?"

"About five hundred," said Peter.

"Better make it a thousand," Denise said sending a team of interns to the printers.

"Are you sure?" Peter was hesitant.

"Here's the draft you wanted," a freshman said handing Denise some pages.

"Draft on what?" she asked. "The rehab center story? That's old news!" she threw the pages on her desk.

"And we need the body," Denise said.

"The what?" asked Peter.

"The Grey Gander," Denise said. "We can't have a wake without a body."

"Boss," another intern interrupted. "I just got an email from a student. She says she has the whole attack on video."

"The attack? The Grey Gander attack?" Denise asked. "Perfect, get her over here. I want that video on our website by this evening."

"Did they ever find the body?" Peter asked.

"Why are you asking me?" asked Denise.

"Well, we are the newspaper. Shouldn't we know?" he pointed out.

"Don't make me slap your hand again," Denise threatened. "Okay," she announced to the remaining interns in the office. "We need the body of the Grey Gander. The first one to get it here gets their name in a byline in the next issue." The room emptied.

* * *

Even with all the interns out looking, it was mid-afternoon before a timid sophomore brought a bloody tissue box containing the Grey Gander's head.

"That's it?" asked Denise disappointed.

"That's all they found," Peter said.

"We can't show this," Denise said gingerly picking up the soaked head. "It's disgusting. It would kill the mood."

"What do you want us to do?" asked Peter. "If they didn't find the body with the head, where are they going to find it? Geese don't grow on trees after all."

"I'm not blaming you or them," said Denise in a tone that indicated otherwise. "But we need a body before tomorrow."

She reassembled the handful of interns who had returned and made another announcement:

"We need a body for the goose. No questions asked. The first one to get me one gets their name in a byline on the first page!"

"Denise," Peter asked as the interns scattered again. "Is this ethical? Isn't it sort of fake and sensational?"

"Sensationalism sells," Denise answered. "And it's not fake. Look at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Would you call that fake? No of course not. Not unless you hate America."

"That's not the same thing at all," argued Peter.

"Well then what are you worried about?" Denise asked.

"What? I don't know. I guess I just have a bad feeling about the whole thing," Peter said.

"Just think of it as a school pride event," Denise said trying to put her friend at ease. "There's nothing wrong with a pep rally, is there?"

"I guess not," Peter said.

"We just want to raise some cash and maybe light a fire under the administration's ass," said Denise. "It's not like anyone is going to get hurt."

* * *

An enterprising freshman brought the battered remains of a Canadian goose less than an hour later. He had found the bird by the playground where Daryl had left it. It was not in the best shape, but, as Denise had promised, she did not ask any questions.

"Jackpot!" Denise yelled out happily.

"It's not the right color," Peter pointed out.

"Don't be so racist," Denise said. "You!" she turned to an intern nearby. "Go to the drugstore and get me some platinum blonde hair dye and a lot of tape."

"Oh gross!" Peter exclaimed as the intern left. "There's no way I'm doing this!"

"Doing what?" asked Denise feigning ignorance.

"You want to switch the head!" he said.

"Well, if you want it to be as authentic as possible," said Denise. "We are the press, we want to be truthful."

"No," Peter said, "I'm not doing this."

"What?" Denise asked.

"You always make me do stuff like this," complained Peter. "But not this time. I'm tired of you ordering me around and then taking all the credit for yourself. Besides," he said holding up his bandaged hand, "I can't I'm injured."

"Fine," Denise said giving in. "Be a baby. I'll do it myself." She was not going to let an intern do such an important job. The intern returned from the drugstore and Denise ordered everyone but Peter out of the office's small kitchen.

Denise steadied her nerves and then began to hack away at the Canadian goose's neck with a paring knife. It was messy work, the knife was quite dull, but slowly she sawed through the goose's neck.

"Isn't it a felony to mess with birds?" Peter asked.

"Shit, now you tell me," Denise said. "Oh well, thank God that the press has diplomatic immunity."

"It doesn't," Peter answered.

"I meant freedom of the press. I'm not a lawyer," Denise replied. The Canadian goose's head finally came off. Denise used scissors to clip the last thread of flesh that still connected it to the body. "Now we attach the other one," she said relieved that it was over. Cutting off the head was what she assumed would be the worst part.

"They should call it Goose tape instead of duct tape," joked Peter lamely.

"Ha, ha, ha," Denise said. "Fuck you."

Cutting off the head was the most disgusting part but trying to attach the Grey Gander's head was certainly the most frustrating. Between the blood and feathers, they could not get the tape to stick. Finally, after many tries, they managed to get the head on. Then they began dying the corpse as light as they could. Dying the body was almost as messy as cutting off the head and Denise and Peter soon realized that they should have done this before attaching the head. The tape around the neck came off and the head fell off forcing them to go through the frustrating process of reattaching it. However, after what seemed like hours, Denise and Peter managed to dye the entire makeshift corpse a consistent shade of dirty white. Once it was dyed, they patted the feather back into place and took a step back.

"Well, hopefully, it will be dark out and no one will be looking that closely," Denise said. It did not look exactly like the Grey Gander, but at least it was roughly goose shaped.

"Yeah, and hopefully they will buy a lot of drinks and be too drunk to tell," Peter agreed. He had calmed down after his earlier outburst and now felt bad he had forced Denise to do all of the messy work. To help out, he began to clean up the mess. "What do we do with this?" he asked pointing to the head of the Canadian goose.

"I don't know. I don't care," Denise said. "I'm going to go check and make sure all the fliers have been handed out

Given that they were still unclear about the legality of their actions, Peter did not want to just throw away the extra goose head. Instead, he shoved the extra head down the kitchen garbage disposal. It got jammed in the disposal.

"I heard back from the catering lady, she said she could help us out and would do it cheap since she's an alumni." Absentmindedly, Peter reached into the disposal to unjam it.

"That's fantastic," Denise answered from the other room. Peter moved something in the sink and un-lodged the blades; the disposal whirled back to life.

"Shit, not again!" he swore as the disposal sliced off the middle finger of his other hand.
Chapter 12

Anthony pulled the company van up to the address Darlene had given him. She had apologized about missing lunch by getting him some extra work. He had pretended to be more upset than he really was. Actually, he was quite happy that she had never shown up. It had given him the chance to meet Mattie. Anthony found himself falling for her even though he knew she was engaged and a bit wild.

Not even Tonya could dampen his mood. She had shown up late for work, unusual for her, and started in on a big long lecture about responsibility. Anthony got the impression while she talked that he was on the verge of being fired. However, before she had gotten that part, she had been interrupted by a call from the student paper asking her to cater a last-minute party on campus. The event was the next evening and there was no way she could do it by herself and also no time to find a new employee. So, she had settled for scolding Anthony about the van keys and he had narrowly kept his job.

A dirty bearded man knocked on the driver's side window startling Anthony.

"Sorry, I don't have any cash," he said rolling the window down an inch.

"Are you Anthony?" the man asked.

"Yeah, are you my sister's friend, Jordan?" Anthony asked. Jordan did not look like the type of person Darlene normally associated with. Perhaps she had met him at the rehab center. He certainly looked like an individual with issues that needed attention.

"I'm Jordan, but I don't think she called me her friend," Jordan said. He was right, Darlene had specifically avoided the word. "Couldn't you get a less conspicuous van?" Jordan asked. The catering van stuck out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. Also, Tonya's name and number were painted on the back. Given that he was related to her, Jordan was not too happy to advertise any information that could lead to him.

"It was the best I could do," said Anthony getting out of the van and looking at the house in front of them. As it was, he was pushing it bringing the van. Tonya did not know that he was borrowing it.

The entire subdivision had seen better days; this unit, in particular, was rather unkempt. The paint was peeling and the gutters sagging. The lawn looked like it had not been cut all summer, the grass was nearly knee high in some places and dandelions had taken over a large portion of the lawn.

"What exactly is the job?" Anthony asked Jordan as they went behind the house.

"You are worse than your sister," he snapped. "Don't ask questions, just do what I tell you to and you'll get paid."

Jordan was in a bad mood. This morning he discovered that his barbershop had burned down, and the cops had confiscated all of his drugs. The only supply he had left were the drugs in his backpack. He needed to figure out a way to get his hands on some more and also a new way to get them into the rehab center. Thanks to Darlene, using Richard was no longer an option. Besides, he was tired of everyone taking a cut of his business. It was time to cut out the middleman and work directly with the customers.

Anthony shrugged, he could do with the extra cash. Mattie seemed accustomed to the finer things in life and he'd need money to compete with her rich fiancé. He was willing to get his hands dirty to get it. It certainly smelled dirty.

"Oh," was all Anthony could say after Jordan jimmied the back door open with a crowbar. "It smells really bad in here."

"Yeah, well you know old people," Jordan said.

The inside of the house was as unkempt as the outside. There were magazines and newspapers everywhere along with piles of old moldy take-out containers and dirty dishes.

"What do I do first?" asked Anthony.

"Go down to the basement and shut off the power," Jordan answered handing him a flashlight.

"What?" Anthony asked.

"Shut off the power. Use the breaker box. The electric company might have already cut the geezer off, but it's best to be sure," Jordan said.

"Why don't we just turn on a light and see?" Anthony suggested moving towards a switch.

"No," said Jordan stopping Anthony before he could hit the switch. "The neighbors might see it. Don't be a dumbass. You are as bad as your sister."

Anthony figured he was just the hired help and he wasn't going to argue. He found his way to the door to the basement and opened it to a flight of stairs descending down. He carefully made his way down, the light from the flashlight wavering with its weak batteries. The basement smelled better than the upstairs. Anthony could still smell the mold and decay, but these were normal basement smells. He looked around and saw a washer and dryer in one corner and a hot water tank and in the other. There was a shelf of paint buckets along one wall. He did not see a breaker box anywhere. Shining the flashlight across the basement, he saw a tiny room partitioned off from the rest of the basement. He went towards it to investigate the room to see if the breaker box was in there.

It was hard to tell with only the flashlight to see by, but he could not see a breaker box. Anthony passed the flashlight around the room for signs of a breaker box. Suddenly he gave a loud shriek. There was somebody in hanging from the rafters. He tried to escape the room but got caught by a strap that was hanging from the ceiling.

"Help!" he screamed, clutching at his neck where the strap held him. The strap gave away just as the figure tackled him to the floor. Anthony wrestled it off him just as Jordan arrived.

"What is the matter with you? Are you trying to wake up the whole neighborhood!"

"I was attacked! They came down from the ceiling!"

"There's no one here but us."

Anthony was annoyed, he did not fall to the floor by accident; someone had tackled him. "I was attacked," he repeated.

"Dummy," Jordan said.

"No, seriously, I saw someone. They jumped out at me from the wall." Anthony was getting annoyed that Jordan would not believe him.

"No, I mean actual dummy," Jordan said. "Looks like a sex doll." He shined his flashlight on a large lump lying at Anthony's feet.

"Holy Mother of God," said Anthony. The object appeared to be an exquisitely crafted sex doll. He must have run into it and knocked it on top of himself when he panicked.

"I wouldn't call her that," Jordan said. "I think Chastity Cinnamon is a more fitting name, and much less sacrilegious.

Anthony struggled to his feet. Jordan neglected to offer him a hand. "What is this place?" he asked Jordan.

"Looks like the geezer has a sex dungeon," Jordan answered. "It's important to have hobbies, especially after retirement."

Anthony looked around. Now that he was calmer, he had a better handle on the situation. It looked like Jordan was right. There were ropes, straps, and harnesses hanging from the walls and ceilings with a healthy number of dildos scattered around.

"Come on, back to work," ordered Jordan. He grabbed one arm of the sex doll and Anthony gathered he was to grab the other. After naming her, they had assumed a responsibility for her and it would wrong to leave her behind in a dungeon. Especially that dungeon.

"Let's start in the living room," Jordan said when they were back upstairs. They deposited Chastity in a ratty easy chair to watch them while they worked. Anthony thoughtfully covered her up with a blanket so she could live up to her name.

"What are we doing?" Anthony realized Jordan still had not told him.

"Choose a spot and start digging!" Jordan said swinging his crowbar into the wall.

"What?" Anthony asked. He was confused and besides, he did not have a crowbar.

"This place is full of copper wire, we are lucky that we are the first ones here. We can thank Kimberly for the tip," Jordan said. "I swear I know that old lesbian from somewhere, I just can't remember where." He had reached into the wall to yank out the first piece of copper wire. Anthony suddenly remembered that in all of the chaos of being introduced to Chastity, he had forgotten to turn off the electricity.

"Wait!" he yelled out to Jordan, "did you remember to--"

But it was too late. The instant that Jordan touched a wire he was thrown back violently to the opposite wall. He sunk to the floor, unconscious and unbreathing.

"Jordan!" Anthony yelled.

* * *

But Jordan was far away. He opened his eyes to a gray sky and looked around. It was snowing; this made him happy because winter was his favorite season. Summers were rough, too many happy people strolling around. Winters were much better, everyone was gloomy and depressed like they should be. He sat up and looked around. There was no one in sight, just mounds, and mounds of snow.

"Hello! Anyone there?" he called out as he got to his feet. He shivered, it was freezing out and he was still dressed in the summer clothes he had worn to steal copper wire from the old man's house.

"Shhh!" a voice hissed from him from a mound of snow. Jordan swirled to face the sound and saw his dead friend, Virginia.

"Shit," he said. "That can't bode well."

"Jordan," she whispered again, "shut up and hide!" Virginia did not look well. Her face was ashen grey and crusted over with ice.

"Virginia, what's going on?" he asked beginning to be frightened.

"He'll hear you!" she said and tunneled underneath the snow leaving Jordan behind.

"Wait!" he shouted throwing himself onto the mound of snow she had disappeared into. He began to furiously dig. "What happened?" he called out. "Virginia, come back! I'm sorry! Even though it wasn't my fault!"

He heard a low growling coming behind him. He stopped digging and turned around. He was faced by a gigantic polar bear. The beast was the size of a truck and it did not look happy to see Jordan.

Jordan flinched and prepared to be mauled. The bear rose up on its hind legs.

"Please make it fast!" Jordan called out to the bear.

Just then, he heard a bark. A gigantic St. Bernard appeared from nowhere and leapt over Jordan's crouched body. The dog bit the bear on the neck. The bear roared in pain and turned its attention to the dog. Bear and dog tumbled in the snow, fur and blood flew everywhere while Jordan looked on, petrified in terror and amazement.

Soon, the bear had enough and broke from the fight and bounded off seeking easier prey.

"Thank you," Jordan said to the dog. "You saved my life!"

The dog seemed uninjured and was happy to see Jordan. It came up to him and licked his face.

"What's this?" Jordan asked reaching for the dog's neck. On the collar was a small keg. Jordan had read about how St. Bernard's used to carry brandy to avalanche victims in the Alps. "I could do with a drink," he said. He opened the keg and poured out a handful of pills.

* * *

"Jordan!" Anthony continued to yell in a different plane of existence. But Jordan was still lost in unconsciousness.

"Holy crap!" Anthony yelled, "Are you okay?" despite the fact that it was very obvious that Jordan was not.

Anthony looked around the room for help. He only saw Chastity. She looked as alarmed as he was. Her mouth was open in surprise, but Anthony knew she had probably been built that way for different purposes. Nonetheless, her expression was appropriate.

"I'll go get help!" he said to the sex doll who remained speechless. His phone's battery was dead. He checked Jordan's pockets but could not find his phone. He racked his brain trying to remember if he had seen a landline anywhere in the old man's house. Had there been one in the kitchen? He ran back to check but found none. He ran back to the hallway and dashed up the flight of stairs to check the second floor.

The smell was even stronger upstairs. But he did not have time to investigate that right now. Coming up at the top of the stairs, there was a small bathroom to his left. He went to the next room down and opened the closed door. Inside was what appeared to be an immaculately kept room of a young child. Anthony went in and looked around. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was kept in pristine condition. All the toys were put away and the bed was made. There was a calendar from thirty years ago on the wall.

"Well, this is creepy as fuck," Anthony said, which said a lot, considering his evening so far. Given the two, he found the sex dungeon to be much less unsettling. He quietly left the room and entered the next door in the hallway.

This bedroom was filled with Nazi memorabilia. Swastikas covered the walls and there were shelves full of old guns and grenades. There was no phone in sight and Anthony was not going to enter looking for one. It seemed that each time he opened a door the house got creepier.

"Third time is the charm," he whispered to himself and opened the next door.

He sighed with relief. Perhaps he had broken the streak. At least this room looked like a normal bedroom. However, the smell was nearly unbearable in this room. Forgetting Jordan's instructions, Anthony instinctively felt for a light switch on the wall and turned it on.

There was someone in the bed; Anthony could see him curled up under the blankets. He rushed over and began shaking the man awake to ask for help

"Hey! Wake up! There's been an accident!" he yelled. He finally tore the blankets off the bed.

He shrieked once again. Underneath the blankets, he saw a decayed human corpse. His shaking had dislodged the arm and it hung at an odd angle from the body. When the blanket was removed, the torso partly collapsed, and the head detached slightly from the body. Something oozed out of the neck.

Anthony vomited onto the bed. Some of the vomit landed on the corpse and mixed in with the decaying flesh. This caused him to vomit again.

"Three times is the charm," he said again and threw up a third time for good measure. At least now he knew where the smell was coming from. He rushed back downstairs to try to resuscitate Jordan.

Unsurprisingly, Jordan and Chastity were both where Anthony had left them. He straightened out Jordan's body and looked for a pulse or any signs of breath. He tried to remember what he had learned about CPR. Tonya had told him to go to a course a few years ago in case a situation ever arose during an event that they were working. You never knew when someone would have a heart attack at a wedding, or when a Bris ceremony could go wrong. Now he wished he had actually attended the lessons instead of just lying to her and saying that he had gone. He knelt down and put his lips on Jordan's to breath into them. Chastity looked on at the two men embracing. She seemed to like what she saw; her face had an aroused expression. But again, that might have just been the way that she was made.

Anthony breathed into Jordan and waited a few seconds. Nothing happened. He moved down and thrust down onto Jordan's chest. He heard a rib crack. He moved back and gave Jordan another breath.

Suddenly Jordan's eyes opened, and he gasped for breath.

"Thank God," said Anthony. "Let's get you to a hospital."

"No hospital. No cops," Jordan panted.

"There's a dead guy upstairs," Anthony said making conversation while Jordan recovered.

"There was one down here too for a while," Jordan replied.

"What was it like?".

"Cold. But I did get an idea, well, was given an idea."

"Really? About what?"

"How to smuggle drugs into the rehab center."

"The one at Mattie's house?".

"Mattie? Oh yeah, Todd's fiancée. Forget her. The dog is the key, it was there in front of me the whole time."

"The dog?" Anthony asked nervously. He had not enjoyed his run-in with Daisy the day before.

"Yeah," Jordan said. "She has almost the full run of the center. We put the drugs in her butt and bypass Richard. Cut out the middleman. Everyone's happy! We just need to borrow her for a bit to train her."

"I'm not sure about that," said Anthony. Daisy did not seem to get much out of the deal. He was going to point this out when it occurred to him that if he double crossed Jordan he could win Mattie's favor. She would be upset when her dog became missing. Anthony could rescue Daisy, turn Jordan in, and be a hero. Mattie would be so happy that she'd fall in love with him and leave her fiancée.

"What are you smiling about?" Jordan asked. "Come on, we have a lot of work to do."
Friday, July 13th
Chapter 13

After getting back from the police station, Sam had a huge fight with her father. Detective Potter had called him to check on Sam's alibi and he was understandably upset that his daughter was caught up in Professor Baker's death. She tried to tell her father the full story, after all, the Bible said to "honor thy father." But by the end of her story, Sam's father was even angrier than before Sam had begun her explanation. Especially when he heard that she had snuck into the zoo to sabotage his exhibit he was livid. Sam figured she had already been punished enough. After all, she had almost drowned in the penguin enclosure. Pointing this out though did not calm down her father. She was glad that she had hidden the police files in her purse. Her father was emotional enough as it was; no need to bring up past traumas.

Besides, Sam was upset enough for the both of them regarding the information about her mother's murderer. The thought of that vile woman was alive and well and living so close to Sam filled her with rage. She knew that she had to do something to avenge her mom but she did not know what. Her religious training offered contradictory approaches. Jesus taught forgiveness, but Sam had always been more of an Old Testament girl.

After she had stormed to her room, she had fallen asleep. After spending all night at the zoo, she was exhausted. However, she did not sleep well. Just before dawn on Friday she awoke and could not go back to sleep. She still did not know what to do but knew she had to do something. Before deciding what that something was, she needed to make sure that the file was accurate and that this woman really was her mother's real killer. Perhaps the cops had made a mistake. After all, they did have trouble finding evidence in the case. If the cops had not found enough evidence to arrest her mother's killer, she'd have to do their job and find some.

Now that she knew what to do, Sam was eager to begin. However, she did not think that she could do it herself. She knew that technically God was always with her, but He was really more of a silent partner. Even more limiting was the fact that God did not have a car and Sam needed a ride if she was going to gather any evidence.

Unfortunately, Sam did not have any friends with cars who she could call on for help. In fact, she did not have any friends, period. She briefly thought of Willie but did not want to involve him in such a personal issue. Besides, he was probably working at the zoo. She sighed, she was going to have to call her ex-girlfriend Denise.

Sam and Denise had not spoken since high school. They had gone to prom together back when Sam was Samuel but drifted apart after Sam had found religion and become a woman. Like her father, Denise could handle the sex change but drew the line on fundamentalism. Sam did not mind, Denise was a journalism major and, until that morning, Sam had no need of the secular liberal media.

"Denise," Sam whispered into her phone.

"Yes, who is this?" Denise asked.

"It's me, Sam," Sam answered. "I know we haven't talked in a while."

"Yeah, no shit," said Denise. "Why are you calling me this early in the morning?" Denise had just gotten back from the emergency room where the doctors had tried but failed, to reattach Peter's last middle finger.

"I need some help," Sam said.

"Ask your friend Jesus."

"He doesn't have a car!"

"Take a cab."

"It's about my mom!"

"What about her?" Denise asked intrigued. As a journalist, she was always on the lookout for sensational stories.

"I think I found who killed her. I need your help getting evidence," Sam said.

"So, you want me to drop whatever I'm doing, rush over to you, and help you break into a serial killer's house?"

"I know it's a lot to ask--"

"It sure is!" Denise said gleefully. "Think of the story, it could take the full front page! I'll be at your place in five."

* * *

"This is it," Sam said. She had directed Denise to the address listed in the stolen files. The two women looked out at a decrepit house in an equally decrepit subdivision.

"The coast looks clear," Denise said. Except for a van a few houses down, the street was empty of people and vehicles.

Sam and Denise quickly went up to the house. Sam tried the door and found it locked. There was no key on top of the door frame, or under the doormat.

"There was a potted plant on the way up," said Denise who had a knack for breaking and entering. She went down the steps and reached under the pot to find a rusty key.

Sam quietly opened the door and let themselves in the house. First, she and Denise examined the living room. There was plenty of evidence that the woman was a sinner. Sam found filthy photographs and magazines all around the room. When Denise was not looking, Sam slipped a couple into her purse to study later. She figured they could help her better prepare for resisting future temptations.

However, there was no sign of the woman being a murderer. Sam studied the row of urns on the mantle.

"Any of them your mom?" asked Denise.

"I couldn't tell," Sam said. "For all, I know they could be pet cremains."

"Oh, speaking of," said Denise. "Have you heard about our wake for the Grey Gander tomorrow?"

"You mean that golden calf," Sam snapped.

Denise was going to correct Sam by pointing out that the goose was a different color and species, but Sam was already busy checking under the couch and loveseat. She went as far as taking the cushions off and looked inside. Finding nothing, they gave up on the living room and went to the kitchen. Nothing here either jumped out at either woman as being out of place. As far as they could tell, it could be the kitchen of any old lady. Denise checked under the sink and in the drawers while Sam checked the fridge. When she opened up the freezer she gasped.

"Jesus Christ!" she swore. Ordinarily was not used to taking the Lord's name in vain, but this was no ordinary time and she was sure Jesus would not mind. In fact, He'd probably be shocked too. A decapitated head of a middle-aged woman was staring straight at her from between cartons of ice cream.

"Holy crap!" Denise said. "This is front page material all right!"

"Mom?" Sam asked the head. She leaned closer for a better look and gave a sigh of relief. It was not her mother, but a different woman.

"Thank God, it's not her," Sam said. The only way the situation could have been more traumatic would have been if it had actually been her mom. Still, the head was probably someone's mother, and Sam felt a bond with it. She took it out of the freezer and set it carefully on the kitchen table to decide what to do with it

"What should do I do now?" she asked both the head and Denise. Neither had any helpful suggestions. Sam had come to the house to look for evidence. But now she had not thought far enough along to think about what to do with the evidence if she found it. Now there was some pretty damning evidence right in front of her and she had some hard decisions to make.

"We need to call the police," Denise said.

Sam picked up her phone and began to dial 9-1-1, but thought better of it. Detective Potter had already brought her in and accused her of one murder. How would it look if the police caught her with a decapitated head the next day? Especially after she had stolen their files.

"No, no police," Sam said putting the phone down.

"What do you mean?" Denise asked. "We are way over our heads!"

Sam grimaced at the unfortunate choice of words but just said: "The police won't help us. They let her get away before."

"I can't believe that I of all people are saying this," the anarchist Denise said, "but we need the authorities!"

"No," Sam said. "I'll take care of this by myself. It was a mistake to involve you."

"God Sam, you haven't changed at all," Denise said. "Still thinking you are holier than everyone else. I don't know what I expected, find your own ride home and good luck not getting murdered." Denise stormed out of the kitchen and Sam grimaced as she heard the front door slam. Luckily, it did not appear to have awoken anyone.

Sam thought again about what Jesus would want her to do. The Bible talked about turning the other cheek, but Sam had always interpreted that this only applied to situations in which said cheeks were attached to a body. What did the Bible say about decapitated heads? There was John the Baptist but that didn't shed much light on her current situation. He had just spent most of his time dunking people in a river.

"God helps those who help themselves," she said quoting a passage she was pretty sure from the Bible. She would have to check later. Right now she went to a kitchen drawer and drew out a large butcher knife. Quietly she went up the stairs and opened the bedroom door.

Kimberly was lying peacefully sleeping. Despite it being summer, she was wrapped under a thick old quilt. Sam did not know if she could stab through it. She placed the knife on the nightstand and tried to pry the quilt off the old woman without waking her.

"Not now, I have a headache," Kimberly murmured in her sleep as Sam tried to flip her over.

"Ew," Sam said. She decided to slit the woman's throat instead of stabbing her in the heart. Sam picked up the knife and held it over Kimberly's neck. She closed her eyes and her hands trembled.

"I can't do it," she said after a few moments. She had never been so disappointed in herself. Back when she had been a student she had accused the other members of the campus Christian organizations of being filled with hot air. They talked big, but they did little. Now, here she was, not being able to act on her own principles.

She tried again to kill the woman but knew it would be of no use. Her heart was no longer into it. Plus, she could not help but feel that neither her mom nor God would approve of her murdering a sleeping woman. Even if that sleeping woman was a killer.

Sam took the knife and headed back downstairs. She remembered seeing a bottle of whiskey in a cupboard. The head on the table watched her grab a bottle from the cupboard and poured herself a drink. Sam cringed as the alcohol burned her throat. She was not used to liquor, but she needed something to steady her nerves.

She was back to square one and had no idea what to do about the head or the old woman sleeping upstairs. She took another sip and suddenly an idea occurred to her. Perhaps she could just leave it up to God. If He saw it fit, he could smite the woman as an act of divine retribution. Happily, Sam got up and went over to the gas stove. She turned on all the burners and then blew out the flames. As the kitchen slowly filled with gas, she went back to the table and picked up the head.

"God works in mysterious ways," she said to the head, "but sometimes He just needs a little push in the right direction."
Chapter 14

"Didn't anyone of you read the book?" Richard asked. He and several patients were sitting in a circle in the library of the Cunningham Rehab Center. Richard hated the house, but the library was the one place he found tolerable. His step-daughter did not allow him much interaction with the center's patients. The one exception was on Friday mornings when she allowed him to conduct a "Breakfast Book Club" with a few of the more literary patients.

This week's book was Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg Ohio, one of Richard's favorites despite his hatred of his home state. He had been looking forward to the discussion, but like all too often, he found himself severely disappointed.

"There was too much drama this week," said one of the patients. "All those deaths."

"Yes, but you are still alive and can read, can't you?" Richard countered.

"Maybe if you gave us something to help our concentration?" suggested a different patient. Richard often took the book club as an opportunity to sell the drugs he bought from Jordan. He did not like enabling the patients but figured that it was dangerous for them to quit cold turkey. After all, his personal motto was: "Too little can be as dangerous as too much."

"You are supposed to be getting clean," he said. "The stuff I give you is supposed to help ease you into sobriety. It's not supposed to be a crutch."

"Come on," said the patient. "You can't expect us to handle this place sober?"

"I know it's rough," Richard said, "but we have to be careful. My step-daughter is not as understanding as I am." That was an understatement. Richard had no idea how Marion would react if she found out he was funneling drugs into the center. Regardless of what she would do, he was sure she would be livid.

"I tried to read the book," another patient, one of the center's rare alcoholics, volunteered. "I thought there would be more wine in it. Kind of a misleading title if you ask me."

"It looked really boring," another added. "After all, who wants to read about a bunch of random stuff that happens in Ohio?"

"What!" Richard said. "That's not what the book is about at all. Well, yes, I guess it sort of is, but it's better than that. Besides, if you read further, you'd have gotten to the part where the one guy almost freezes to death while peeping on a naked woman. Who couldn't like that?" He held up his copy of the book to a section he had highlighted. It was his favorite part of the book.

"Why didn't he just look at naked people on the computer," asked a patient. "What was he, Amish?"

"What's that movie with Harrison Ford and the Amish?" another patient asked sitting in the back of the library. "The one with that great topless scene?"

"I think we are getting off track," Richard said.

"Witness," another patient provided the answer.

"But it wasn't very accurate," the patient in the back pointed out. "Most Amish women don't have as nice breasts as Kelly McGillis."

Richard could not help himself. He had to ask. "How do you know the name 'Kelly McGillis' but not the movie?"

"Um, because of Top Gun, duh!" the patient said.

"Can we watch that next week?" the alcoholic asked. "Either Top Gun or Witness."

"It's a book club, not a movie club," Richard moaned exasperated.

"But I'm sure those movies were based on books. They all are. Let's read one of those," said the patient hurrying to the library's bookshelves to search for the book.

"Not Top Gun," another patient said. "I get altitude sickness. Better stick to Witness. Unless Richard gives me something to help with the vertigo..."

"Would it be under 'W' for Witness or 'F' for Ford?" the alcoholic asked.

"Don't forget to check under 'Amish' in case it's non-fiction," another patient suggested.

"To hell with you all!" Richard muttered dismissing the patients who were still there. Most of those who were not searching for the non-existent Witness book had already wandered off anyway. Richard grabbed a novel from the shelf and settled down in a chair to spend the day reading. However, he was again disappointed by the arrival of Darlene.

"Richard, can I have a moment with you?" she asked.

"What is it?" he groaned.

"It's private," she said.

"Fine," he said apprehensively. She was either going to try to seduce him, or she had bad news for him. Given his age, he figured it was the latter rather than the former.

"I know about you and Jordan," Darlene said when they were out in the hall. Bad news; just as he suspected.

"What about me and Jordan?" Richard asked feigning ignorance.

"I know he's giving you drugs," Darlene said.

"He's not giving them to me," said Richard. He purchased his drugs honestly like any hard-working American. "Does Marion know?" he asked. Again, he was not sure how his step-daughter would behave if she found out. Would she cover for him? Or hand him in?

"Not yet," said Darlene. "But I'm going to tell her."

"You bitch!" snapped Richard.

"Unless--" began Darlene holding him off.

"Unless what?" he asked.

"You cut me in." One of the reasons why Darlene quit her graduate program had been the small student stipend she received from the university. Now that she was out of academia she was eager to earn money. She figured that between her salary from Marion and blackmailing both Richard and Jordan she would have a good start on paying back her student loans. She did not think Richard and Jordan would find out that she was double dipping and taking money from each of them. Even if they did, what could they do about it? Complain to Marion? Go to the police?

"Fine," Richard said. He was not in the drug business for money. The extra cash was nice of course, but he saw himself as providing an important service to the rehab center. He thrust all the money he had in his pocket into her hand.

"Oh, that was a lot easier than I expected," Darlene said surprised. Jordan had put up more resistance.

"I'm old enough to know when I'm beat," Richard said. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, sure," Darlene said. "See you around." She left and went downstairs.

"That bitch!" Richard exclaimed again when she was out of hearing. He had was resigned to the blackmail, but he did not trust Darlene. He was not going to wait around until she ratted him out to Marion, or worse yet, the police. He was not going back to jail. At eighty years old he did not think he'd survive another prison sentence. Anyway, he was sick of Ohio. It was time to take a well-deserved vacation.

He went to his room and collected his meager belongings. These included some tattered paperbacks books, a signed photo from President Nixon, a photograph of his brother and his wife along with another photo of his brother's wife after Richard had married her.

He threw some clothes on top of his belongings and patted his empty pockets. After giving his money to keep Darlene quiet, he was broke. He thought about where he could get his hands on some cash. Just then he saw the "save the date" card for Mattie and Todd's wedding.

"Hmm, Raymond owes me," said Richard. Raymond Cunningham was Marion's ex-husband and Mattie's father. He had left Ohio after stealing money from the non-profit he worked for. Marion and Mattie had not seen him since, but Richard had kept in touch with him. As a white-collared felon, he felt a certain kinship with the embezzler. Richard had been sending him updates on the family for years and he knew that Raymond had snuck back into Ohio. Apparently, Ray had a change of heart and wanted to be close to his daughter, even if Mattie was unaware of his existence.

Richard couldn't understand such sentimentalism himself but certainly found it convenient at the present moment. He figured Ray was probably with all the hobos and drifters that came to town camped. It was the best place to go and still keep off the grid from the authorities. He'd go down to Paul Tibbet Regional park squeeze his ex-step-son-in-law for some money.

He snuck down the stairs and went out the kitchen. Daisy barked happily at the sight of him.

"Shush girl," Richard said gently. "Sorry Daisy, I've got to go," he opened the kitchen door and went outside. Todd's B.M.W. was where Mattie had left it. In addition to the scratch and broken headlight it was now missing its back fender, but it still looked drivable. Richard opened the car door and fumbled under the dashboard to hotwire it. You learn a thing or two in prison; even minimum security prison.

"Sorry girl," Richard said again as Daisy eagerly nuzzled his hands as he worked on the car. "You have to stay here."

Daisy whined, she wanted to go on a car ride.

"I'll miss you. You were the best of the whole bunch crazy bunch, but I won't be able to feed you," said Richard. "Besides, you have a nice big yard to play in here," said Richard. "Here," he said picking up a stick, "go fetch." He threw the stick far enough that it got lost in the weeds on the edge of the field. Daisy was a good dog. There was a stick to be fetched and it was her job to go after it, regardless of how much she wanted to go for a ride. Daisy bounded after the stick. By the time she found it, Richard was headed out of the drive and down the road.

* * *

Richard cruised along the empty early morning streets towards Paul Tibbet Regional Park. Along the side of the road, he saw a young woman walking holding a decapitated head at her side. Richard knew it was unwise to stop, but he couldn't resist. There was bound to be a good story here. And Richard always appreciated a good story.

"Hello there!" he called out slowing the car down.

Sam ignored him and continued walking.

"Hey! Chick with the head!" Richard shouted.

"What?" Sam asked turning around. She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts she had not seen the car approach.

"Hi!" Richard said. "What have you got there?"

"Oh, hi," Samantha said as she came up to the car. "Just a head."

"I would ask where you are headed, but it seems in poor taste considering."

"I am just out for some air and thinking things over."

"Well, I don't suppose I can offer you a ride," Richard said. It seemed the gentlemanly thing to do, and while he was no gentleman, he was curious to learn more about her. "You probably don't want to be seen carrying that around. People will ask questions, and they are not all as friendly as I am."

"Thank you," Sam said. Normally she would not get into a car with a strange man, especially as one that was as strange as Richard appeared to be. But he had made a good point about the head. After leaving Kimberly's house, Sam had been in a daze and was not thinking clearly. She hoped that a long walk would sort out the many thoughts in her mind. Even though the head was not her mother's, she felt an attachment to it. Whoever the woman was, she had probably gone through a similar experience as her family had. She felt it would be disrespectful to discard the head in the trash. Maybe having a small service would provide some closure? She thought back to her when she had sat at the kitchen table contemplating the Bible and the decapitated head. John the Baptist had jumped in her mind back in the kitchen, but she had not paid it any attention. However, after thinking about it, maybe that was the key to the problem. John the Baptist had spent his time in the river cleansing sinners. It sounded as good an idea as any so she had decided to go to the river.

"Can you take me to the river?" she asked Richard as they drove, "I want to say goodbye to my head."

"Why of course," he said. "I actually was headed there myself."

"Why were you headed to the river?" Sam asked.

"Why do you have a decapitated head?" he asked.

"Fair enough," she said, and they drove on in silence.
Chapter 15

Raymond Cunningham woke up Friday morning in a feverish sweat. He had been running a temperature since he was viciously attacked Tuesday night. He looked at the dog bite on his right hand, it looked quite bad. Angry red lines were running up along the veins in his arm. Still, his dog bite was much healthier looking than the wound on his other arm. He turned and looked at the gaping gash Jordan's machete had made on his left arm. The edges of the wound were black, but below the tourniquet, it was still raw and red. Ray did not know what an infected wound looked like, but given his fever, he guessed that he had at least one, possibly two.

Given that he was living off the grid in the forest, Ray supposed this meant that he was dying. Again, he did not have much experience with such wounds, but he knew that without medical care it was unlikely that he would live much longer. In his posh previous life, it would have been easy for him to go to the emergency room. However, in that life, it would have also been equally unlikely in the first place for a lunatic to chop his arm nearly off.

Even now, it was not money that kept Ray from the hospital. He had several hundred thousand dollars left in bank accounts across the world and several thousand hidden right here in the park. It was the several warrants out for his arrest that kept him from the hospital. He was wanted for embezzlement, failure to pay alimony, and failure to pay child support. Any hospital would certainly have notified the authorities and the authorities would lock him up. At that point, his life would be over anyway, he might as well die in peace in the woods.

On top of that, he could not bear to face his ex-wife and daughter from prison. It would be difficult to explain why he had abandoned them even under the best of circumstances. He had thought about how to do so for weeks while he was living in a park with the friendly drifters. How could he explain to them that he was no longer the man he once was? He wanted to walk Mattie down the aisle but knew she would not let him. Now he was not even sure that he would live to see her married.

He himself not sure why he came back to the city. His marriage to Marion had been a disaster. Running away from the marriage had not solved any problems, just delayed them. It was not until his own husband abandoned him in the Caribbean that he realized how much pain he must have caused Marion. By then, he felt it was too late to make amends. From his father-in-law, he had news of the family and it sounded like Marion and Mattie were doing fine without him. Coming home would have just made more problems for them.

He returned to the United States and simply decided to just wander the countryside. Ray had hiked the Pacific Rim Trail and the John Muir. He had been making his way East to hike the Appalachian when he had found himself in Ohio and a letter from Richard telling him of Mattie's wedding. On an impulse, he went to his old hometown and had been living in the park ever since.

At first, Ray had found being close to his daughter to be a cathartic experience. Just knowing that she was close made him feel happy. However, that was before the attack. He had no idea who the man or dog who tried to kill him was. He would have been very surprised to learn that his son-in-law-to-be had been the one to save his life. Instead, all he could feel was that he was finally being punished for leaving his family. Karma was a bitch.

"James, Jessica? Are you guys awake?" he asked the two forms sleeping next to him. In his travels, he came across various other wanderers, usually young people, searching for some meaning in the American wilderness. Raymond was the oldest member of the group. Most of the rest were either recent college graduates trying something new before getting real jobs or college dropouts that refused to join the real world. Since their camp had been destroyed, the entire group had taken to sleeping in the open air further downstream from the dam.

His friends Jessica and James had received the next most serious injuries in Tuesday's attack. However, they did not appear to have a fever. Ray was glad of that. He did not want to die, but if any of them did, he was glad it was he. At least he had already made it to middle age and raised and lost a family. By comparison, these kids still had a lot of living to do.

James gave no response to Ray. Jessica mumbled something in a half sleep.

"I'm going to the river to cool down," he said to Jessica.

She mumbled something back. Ray got up and made his way through the trees to the river. Since the attack, the entire group had been careful about going off by themselves. There was no telling when they might be attacked again. Plus, Ray knew he was not in his right mind and did not feel safe leaving the group without telling someone. Last night, he woke up in the middle of the night and could have sworn he had seen a monkey staring right at him. It was not until he sat up and saw the sleeping forms of his friends that he realized he was still in Ohio and had not been transported back to the Caribbean. He had not been able to go back to sleep after that.

He came to the river, stripped to his underwear and eased himself into the water. He knew that sitting in the cool dirty river water was not the best thing for a man with a fever and an open wound. But as he was pretty sure he was already dying, what difference could it make? He might as well make himself as comfortable as possible. The river was peaceful this early in the morning, it was a relaxing and scenic spot.

"You know," he said to himself, "If you have to die in Ohio, this isn't a bad spot." He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Ray jerked awake to the sound of crunching branches and twigs. Somebody was coming. He tried to get out of the river, but the banks were too slippery and muddy. With his injuries, he was not able to get a good hold of anything to pull himself out.

"Who's there? Jessica? James? Is that you?" he called out.

"Sorry," said a young woman coming out of the woods. "We didn't mean to scare you." An elderly man panted after her.

"Oh, that's all right," said Ray. If they meant to hurt him, they would have done so by now. Besides, either way, there was little he could do about it.

"Ah Ray, it's you," the old man panted.

"Richard?" Ray asked. He had not seen his father-in-law in decades and Richard had aged terribly.

"Yeah," Richard said. "How are you doing. You guys moved from your last spot. Looks like my friend Jordan took it over. Is everything--Oh, gross," he said pointing to Raymond's wounds.

"Yeah," Ray said. "There was an accident. How about you guys," Ray asked nodding to the decapitated head.

"Also an accident," Sam said.

"Fair enough," Ray said.

"Let me give you a hand, no pun intended," Richard said going to the river to help Ray out. He almost fell in himself, Sam ended up being the one to pull Ray out.

"Thank you kindly," Ray said as she lifted him out of the river.

"Ray! Is that you, are you all right?" Jessica called out. She had heard noises from the river and had brought the entire group of hikers and travelers with her in case there was trouble.

"Yes, yes, it's me, but don't worry," Ray called out, "there's no problem."

Jessica and the rest slowly came out to greet Richard and Sam.

"Great," Sam said under her breath. Next to faculty, students, lawyers, and scientists, drifters were the worse types of sinners. The drifters crowded her, morbidly eager to get a glimpse of the head.

"I needed to talk to you about some business matters," explained Richard taking Ray to the side. Ray sighed. Richard was always hitting him up for cash.

"I can't loan you any money," Ray said. "Can't you see I'm dying?"

"Don't want to go to the hospital, huh?" Richard said. He was no stranger to avoiding the authorities. "How about a vet?"

"A vet?" asked Ray.

"Well, sort of," said Richard. "I have a friend at the zoo who can help."

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," said Ray. He liked the idea of not dying, even if it meant that he'd owe Richard a favor and probably quite a bit of cash.

"We can head over right after we deal with this whole situation," Richard said indicating Sam and the head who had been surrounded by curious drifters.

"I just came here to send off my mom's friend." Sam was explaining to the crowd holding up the head. It was not completely accurate, but it was easier than explaining the whole story.

"Oh, um, that makes sense," Ray said hesitantly as he and Richard rejoined the larger group. He had traveled far and wide and met many types of people. But this was a new experience even for him.

Sam could tell that the crowd was uneasy at the sight of the head. "I know it's weird and unorthodox, but I would hope, of all people, you guys would be the type to appreciate the untraditional."

The drifters had to concede that Sam made an excellent point. If they had wanted normal lives, they would not have decided to live off the grid. The group edged closer to the river. "Okay," Jessica said. "What did you have in mind?"

Sam had never led a funeral service before. He religious training mostly pertained to telling people they were going to Hell. But looking around at the crowd around her, she felt touched that these strangers were willing to help her out. They were still sinners, but she almost felt bad about the fact that they were all going to eventually burn in Hell. However, that was a problem for a different day.

"I don't know, I guess we could put her in the river and sing a hymn or something," Sam said.

"Sounds good, I don't know many hymns though," Jessica said.

"I only know Silent Night," offered Richard. "It's not really a hymn." Singing that song at a funeral would be like watching a movie during book club. But in the end, it was the best that they could do. Sam placed the head in the water. It bobbed up and down and then floated downstream. The crowd sang silent night in the early morning sun as it disappeared out of sight. Then, not knowing what else to do, Richard led them in a rendition of Jingle Bells and Frosty the Snowman. 
Chapter 16

For the second time in less than a day, Anthony found himself next to a sex doll. He wondered where he was and what time it was. Judging from the cramped quarters he was sharing with Chastity, he guessed that he had fallen asleep in the back of the catering van. There was copper wire all over. Coils of it were piled on him and Chasity. He heard the chirping of opened the back door of the van and ran around to the driver's side door got in.

He had been out all night. Tonya was going to be furious. He reached into his pockets for the keys to start the van but found nothing. He tried to recall the details from the night before. He remembered going to the house with Jordan, finding Chastity, seeing Jordan die and then Jordan's subsequent resurrection. The last thing he remembered was going for a quick nap in the back of the van while Jordan finished raiding the house for valuables. After that, he remembered nothing.

Suddenly the passenger door opened, and Jordan got into the van.

"I couldn't sleep," Jordan said. "My chest hurt too much."

"Yeah," Anthony said, "I suppose dying might do that. I assumed you had gone to a hospital." He actually had not assumed this. Had he thought of Jordan at all, he would have hoped that Jordan had gone off to die in the ditch somewhere. Anthony was not a doctor, but he was pretty sure that someone who had experienced what Jordan had gone through last night should not be out and about the next day.

"No, I don't hurt that bad," Jordan said swallowing a handful of pills he had taken from his backpack.

"What time is it?" Anthony asked.

"Brunch time, you missed breakfast," Jordan said offering him an open bag of chips. Anthony took a handful.

"Any idea where the keys are? I need to get the van back to Tonya."

"Don't worry, I have them," Jordan said holding up the keys. "I didn't want you waking up and abandoning me here. Besides we still have work to do."

"I have to get back to Tonya," Anthony repeated. "She is going to be furious. I'm already on thin ice with her from the other day."

"Don't worry about Tonya, she's my cousin, she'll understand," Jordan said. Anthony was rather sure that this was not the case. But he started the van and, as Jordan ordered, drove over to the Cunningham Rehab Center.

"We're going to grab the dog during the day?" Anthony asked credulously as Jordan rehashed his plan to kidnap Daisy. To Anthony, it sounded like something that should be done under the cover of night.

"Well, judging by last night, stealth is not our strength," reasoned Jordan. "We might as well go during the day and hope they are all busy doing whatever it is that they do there. During the night it is too quiet. Any small noise could wake someone. Besides, the dog is usually in the yard and none of the patients ever go out there. They ignore her and she's always desperate for company. She's probably going to be eager to be a drug mule."

* * *

Daisy would have agreed with the part about being lonely if not the part about being a drug mule. She had been disappointed when Richard drove off without her. Mattie was asleep and everyone else was too busy to play with her.

She wandered the mansion, at least the parts she was allowed in. Under the kitchen table, she found, to her joy, one of the large juicy spiders. It was delicious, but poor company. Especially after she ate it. She went up to Marion's office and scratched on the door.

"No Daisy, not now," Marion called out. Be a good dog and go lay in the kitchen." Daisy whimpered, she wanted to be a good dog like Marion had told her, but it was awfully lonely in the kitchen when no one else was around. She scratched again at the door.

"No Daisy," Marion yelled out from the other side, "go away and don't bother us anymore."

* * *

Outside, Jordan and Anthony pulled up to the back of the mansion and entered the mansion through the door in the kitchen. Jordan had hoped to find Daisy in the yard, but no such luck.

"Here," he said opening up his backpack and took out a gun and handed it to Anthony.

"What the hell? Where did you get a gun?" Anthony hissed. A gun seemed to only invite trouble.

"From that geezer's house. He had a whole room full of Nazi stuff."

"And you took it? It is Nazi stuff. Nazis!"

"I took a bunch of it," Jordan showed Anthony his backpack. It was filled with old guns, grenades, and knives.

"Why?" Anthony asked again.

"Dammit Anthony, I don't have time to explain the Second Amendment to you," Jordan snapped. "Just call the fucking dog so we can get out of here."

"Here Daisy, come here," Anthony said.

They heard the sound of a heavy animal come plodding towards them. Daisy hesitantly stuck her head out around the corner.

"She seems nervous," Anthony said.

"She doesn't know you that well," Jordan said, "Here, hold this. She and I are old friends." Jordan handed him the gun and knelt and beckoned to Daisy. "Here, Daisy Lady! Come on, don't you want to go on another adventure with your friend Jordan?"

Recognizing Jordan, Daisy was very eager to go on another adventure. She perked up and trotted towards him. She licked him eagerly on the face.

"Jordan? Anthony? What the fuck?" Mattie asked. She had unexpectedly come down the stairs. She had heard thought she heard Anthony's voice and wanted to see what had brought him by.

Anthony was shocked to see Mattie. He had accounted for the possibility of one of the patients or Marion catching him and Jordan, but not Mattie. In his surprise, he accidentally pulled the trigger of the gun Jordan had handed him.

The gun went off with a loud bang. Daisy was terrified by the noise and raced across the kitchen and through the back door that Jordan and Anthony had left open.

The bullet whizzed across the kitchen, hit a pan that was hanging on the wall, and ricocheted into Mattie's chest. She sank to the ground into a groaning and convulsing heap.

"Give me that!" Jordan said snatching the gun.

Anthony looked with horror and what he had done. "What happened?" he said in shock.

"You scared the bitch away," Jordan said, "And then shot this other bitch instead."

"We have to do something!" Anthony said looking at Mattie's twitching body. She had begun to gasp, and bubbles of blood foamed at her mouth. He rushed over to try to give her C.P.R. It had worked with Jordan the night before.

"Get away from her," Jordan snapped. He looked expectantly at the stairs waiting to see if anyone had heard the shot and was coming to investigate.

"Jordan, do something!" Anthony pleaded.

Jordan went up to her; he couldn't risk another shot from the gun. It was lucky enough that they had got away with the first gunshot. Someone would definitely hear a second. Instead, he took off the baseball cap he was wearing and laid it over Mattie's eyes. He then stomped onto her skull twice in quick succession crushing her skull and putting her out of her misery.

Anthony's misery, however, was just beginning. As he saw Jordan stomp to death Mattie, he felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to vomit but could not; except for a handful of potato chips, his stomach was empty from the night before. Instead, he settled for a cross between dry heaving and hyperventilating. It was not quite as satisfying as throwing up, but it would have to do for now.

"Stop it," Jordan said roughly shaking him. "We don't have time for that."

"I can't believe I killed her," Anthony said.

"You didn't," Jordan said, "Technically I did. But don't tell anyone that."

"They'll find out it was me. Her fiancée will come after me,"

"That's a good point. Todd's going to be pissed. He had some weird attachment to her."

"What do we do?"

"We? Well, I'm going to get out of here, I don't know what you--"

"I saved your life last night!" It was true, Jordan owed Anthony.

"Fine, give me the keys to the van," Jordan said taking charge of the situation. "I'll take care of everything, you get out of here. Just run, don't stop until you get out of the city. If anyone asks, we never met each other."

Anthony meekly got to his feet and handed Jordan the keys. However, Anthony was too much in shock to mover further.

"Get going!" Jordan said slapping him across the face.

"Thanks, Jordan," Anthony said coming to his senses.

"Eh, what the hell," Jordan said, giving Anthony a second slap as a way of farewell. "Get out of here, Anthony."

Anthony took one last look at Mattie lying on the ground. He wished he had not, he did not want to remember her like that, but the sight of her lying in a puddle of blood was enough to get his adrenaline flowing. He ran out the back door and raced across the backyard.

As Anthony made his escape, Jordan turned his own attention to the pressing matter at hand; cleaning up the corpse and removing the evidence. Jordan was not the best at housekeeping or cleaning. This fact was largely due to the fact that he had lived most of his adult life either in his car or now, in a tent in the woods. Therefore, cleaning the current mess was going to be a challenge for him. Plus, it had to be done quickly. The blood had to be mopped up and the body gone before anyone came into the kitchen. Since it was only an hour before lunch he had to work quickly.

Luckily, he had a catering van filled with cleaning materials at his disposal. He threw his backpack on the kitchen table and jogged out to the van and grabbed a box of trash bags, a few rolls of paper towels and a spray bottle of cleaning solution.

He took a plastic bag and put scooped what remained of Mattie's head into it. He tied it off at the neck. He took a large heavy-duty garbage bag and awkwardly began to stuff the rest of Mattie's corpse into it.

"Good thing you weren't fat," he said to her dead body. It was the nicest thing he ever said to her.

One bag wasn't enough, but he managed to get the body mostly wrapped up using two. It was an awkward and slippery bundle it was difficult to drag her outside. Once he got her there, he pondered what do with her.

"I should have thought this out beforehand," he said to himself. He saw a large trashcan sitting along the back of the house. He tried to drag her there, but the plastic bags began to rip.

"Fuck it," he said, "I'll deal with her later." The van was right there; he opened up the back and threw her in on top of the copper wire.

"Here, Chastity, I have a friend for you," he said as he closed the van's door.

There was still the mess of blood and brains in the hallway. It was tempting to just leave it and drive off, but he figured if he could get it cleaned up before anyone saw it, it might be a while before Marion would notice her daughter was missing. That would give him a head start in disposing of the body in the park. As it was now, it was pretty clear that somebody had had his or her head stomped in in the hallway. It was bound to draw attention and make it that much more difficult to explain Mattie's disappearance. Luckily, the hallway had dark wood floors, to begin with. The stain was not so visible, if one were not looking for a bloodstain it would not be noticeable.

"There, it probably won't fool a forensic team, but it looks fine if you don't know what happened," Jordan said believing himself to be alone.

"If you don't know what happened?" Darlene asked. She had just come into the hallway.

"God, why is everyone in this house so sneaky?" Jordan complained.

"If you don't know what happened?" Darlene repeated. "Why are you here? And why are you covered in blood?"

"Oh, hi there Darlene," Jordan said pretending that it was the most normal thing in the world to be scrubbing blood out of someone else's kitchen floor. "Just doing some cleaning. Nothing to write home about."

"Is that blood?" Darlene asked again. "Jordan, where's my brother? That's not Anthony's blood is it?" she asked alarmed

"Oh, no, no, no, don't worry about that," Jordan said with relief, "I can honestly say that your brother was alive and well the last time I saw him. At least physically. Emotionally he might have some issues." He picked up the bag and headed towards the van.

"What's going on Jordan?" Darlene asked following him. "I won't stop hounding you until you tell me!"

Jordan visibly grimaced at the word "hound." "It's none of your business Darlene. Go back to work."

"Tell me!" she yelled.

"Quiet down," he said. If she kept yelling someone was bound to hear them and catch him. "Okay, okay, if you must know," he rummaged through his brain for a lie, "I had a bit of diarrhea in the hallway and had to clean it up. I was embarrassed which is why I did not want to tell you."

"Jordan, where's my brother?" The diarrhea excuse, which had often saved Jordan in the past, did not convince Darlene. "That's his van!" she said pointing to the van. They were outside now.

"It's actually Tonya's van," Jordan said. He almost opened the back of the van to throw the cleaning supplies and bag of dirty paper towels in there. However, it would not do to have Mattie spill out in front of Darlene. Instead, he went and threw the supplies through the open passenger window.

"Jordan!" Darlene screamed as Jordan got into the van.

Jordan started to pull out. Darlene ran after the van. In a moment of inspiration, Jordan came up with another brilliant idea. His last idea about using Daisy as a drug mule did not work out, but his new plan would definitely work and stop Darlene from blackmailing him. It was much simpler. He quickly put the van in reverse and slammed on the gas. The van lurched backward and over Darlene.

It all happened so quickly that she did not have time to react. The van went over Darlene and she got caught on the back axle. Jordan switched gears and raced forward. Darlene's body was dragged under the van across the yard until it came unhooked from the bottom of the van and tumbled to a stop a few yards away from the gate.

"Sorry Darlene," Jordan yelled out the open window, "Say 'hi!' to Virginia for me!"
Chapter 17

"Hey Anthony, this Tonya. Um, bring back my van right now or you are fired. I better see you soon," Tonya said ending the call. She had every intention of firing Anthony regardless of whether or not he got the van back in time. Tonya looked at her watch and fumed. They had to get to campus soon. She debated about whether she should call Darlene and see if she knew where her brother was. She felt bad ratting out Anthony to his sister, but it was getting closer and closer to the event and she needed her van. She held off as long as she could before she called Darlene. It turned out to not make a difference; the call went straight to voicemail. Tonya hung up without bothering to leave a message.

"Crap," Tonya said. She decided that she would have to take her own car and do the entire event by herself. Since it was a student-run event Tonya hoped it was pretty informal. She did not expect the students to be picky or fancy, as long as they were entertained or at least drunk. If it had been a wedding or a funeral (well a funeral for a human rather than a bird) she would have been in a fix. Besides, she had already given the kids a discount, so they should be in a forgiving mood.

"I guess they will get what they paid for," Tonya said to herself. If they did not like it, next time they could pay full price for their goose funeral.

She drove to the storage unit where she kept her extra catering supplies, the grill, and the propane tanks for it. Luckily, her car had a hitch for the grill. Otherwise, she did not know what she would have done. Tonya attached the grill and drove to campus. The streets around the pond were packed and she had difficulty in finding a parking spot. Finally, she found one and went to look for someone in charge. She found Denise standing on a bench and giving out orders.

"Hello," Tonya said, "I'm the caterer."

"You're late," Denise snapped. Between the emergency room and her adventure with Sam Denise had not gotten any sleep. This morning she had been so busy preparing for the wake that she had not even checked the news to see if there was any report about any new murders. For all she knew, Sam's head could have joined the one in the old lady's freezer.

"Sorry about that," Tonya said. "I'm short staffed today. Can someone give me a hand unpacking my stuff?"

"Peter!" Denise called. Peter came running up.

"Um, no offense, but can someone with hands help me?" Tonya said noticing Peter's two bandaged hands. Denise waved him away and motioned to an intern who followed Tonya to her car. It took several trips, but they got everything unloaded and pushed the grill over to the pond.

"Where do you want me to start grilling?" Tonya asked.

Denise just waved her hand to a pile of boxes next to a tree behind the sociology building. Tonya pushed the grill over and then lugged the extra cans of propane.

"Wait, this isn't safe," she called out. Half the boxes were full of alcohol, the other half was full of the illegal fireworks Denise had purchased for entertainment.

"Hey!" Tonya called out again. "You guys can't have these here." Technically, they weren't supposed to have fireworks at all. However, no one was paying attention to her.

"Fucking kids," muttered Tonya. She had already been delayed by Anthony and was in no position to argue. Even if she was, she would not have had the time; she had to hurry if she was going to grill up the burgers in time.

* * *

Arthur Jenkins struggled to shut his office window. The noise from the pond was distracting and even more distracting was the smoke from the grill. He had not had dinner yet and the smell of cooking meat was tantalizing.

It was not that he disliked parties, it was just that he had too much work to do. Unlike the students who were excited about the party, he was not pleased to be on campus on a Friday evening and did not want to be reminded of how miserable he was. He'd rather be home with his wife and twins. He was so far behind that he had decided he had to skip going to the funeral of Professor Baker. Jenkins had never liked Baker anyway, but he still hoped that no one noticed his absence. It would make the department look bad if the chair didn't show up.

Right now, he was studying Daryl's files. Jenkins could not believe what he was seeing. He knew Daryl had been unproductive lately but had no idea it was this bad. As far as he could tell, Daryl did nothing for the department. Jenkins had no idea what Daryl did all day. Daryl did not teach any of his own classes, he had not submitted any grant proposals in years, and worse yet, none of his graduate students ever graduated. It did not look like this was going to change in the near future. At least not if Darlene's academic record was any indication. She was missing nearly half of the courses required for her Ph.D.

Jenkins looked at the record of Daryl's other student, Todd Moreno. Todd looked more promising. He was a new student, so Daryl had not yet managed to mess up his academic career. Jenkins made a note to talk to Todd and see if he wanted to switch advisors. He would have a much better chance of graduating with supervision from someone other than Daryl.

Looking at the data, Jenkins felt guilty about assigning Todd to teach Sociology 244 in the Fall. Daryl had nearly begged for his authorization for it and Jenkins had reluctantly given his permission. Daryl claimed that it was necessary so that Darlene would have time to finish her dissertation. Now Jenkins knew this was bullshit; Darlene was never going to finish. Daryl was just too lazy to teach his own class

In addition to Daryl's messes, Jenkins had plenty of his own work to do. Unlike Daryl, Jenkins actually did his own research and taught his own classes. Plus, there were all the other administrative and departmental tasks and responsibilities that being department chair required. His wife had wanted him to take a sabbatical and help her raise the twins, but he felt that the Sociology Department would fall to pieces if he left it now. Sometimes it felt like all he did at work was put out fires.

* * *

As the crowds gathered for the wake, Samantha wandered around the pond waiting for the event to start. Like Denise, she was exhausted. Richard and Ray had given her a ride back into town after the informal funeral service that morning. She had spent the rest of the morning trying to catch up on sleep but was still too bothered by the events from the night before. She had gotten up and decided to spend the afternoon preparing a protest. The wake for the Grey Gander was clearly idol worship and had to be discouraged. She had made one picket sign after another, but none had seemed right. Each sign had seemed silly. In fact, after all the events of the previous few days, the whole issue seemed to just be silly. It was waste of time to get upset over something so foolish.

"Fuck it," she said finally and shoved all the signs into the trash. Her dad had already left for Professor Baker's funeral, so she was alone in the house. On an impulse, she decided to text Willie and asked him if he wanted to go to a party with her. After all, that time thinking about the silly wake for the goose, she was kind of interested in seeing it.

She scanned the crowd looking for Willie. She did not see any sign of him yet, but she did see Denise standing on a bench giving out orders. At first, Sam figured she'd avoid Denise; she felt bad about the night before. But she summoned up her courage and went over to her.

"Oh, so you're not dead," Denise said upon seeing Sam.

"Not yet. About last night, I'm sorry things got out of hand."

"Yeah, well it was a weird night. I give you that."

"Thanks for coming out to help me anyway."

"Don't mention it. Literally, don't," said Denise. "Especially if the police ask."

"Don't worry, I got rid of it."

"How," Denise said curious in spite of herself.

"I gave it a funeral of sorts. Down the river."

"What will happen if someone finds it floating?"

"Huh," Sam said. "I hadn't thought of that." Denise had made a good point. Maybe the riverside funeral had not been such a great idea after all.

"Hey," Willie said coming up to Sam. "How's it going?"

"Oh good," she said. "Willie, this is my... friend, Denise." Denise and Willie shook hands.

"How do you know each other?" Willie asked.

"We'll let you get back to work," Sam said in a rush before Denise could answer. Willie did not know her full history and she wanted to wait until the right moment to tell him everything. She led Willie to a bench a ways from the crowd where they could talk.

"What are you reading?" he asked pointing at the book sticking out of her purse.

"Winesburg Ohio," Sam answered. "A friend gave it to me." It was the first non-religious book Sam had read in years.

"What's it about?" Willie asked.

"Oh, just a bunch of stuff that happens in a small town in Ohio," Sam said putting the book back in her purse. "What's new with you?"

"Oh, nothing much. One of the ostriches got out last night and ran amok. I spent most of the evening trying to chase it down."

"Occupational hazard I guess."

"And now I'm at a wake for a goose. It's been quite the ornithological day. What's new with you?"

"Nothing too much, I had to go to a funeral this morning. One of my mom's friends."

"Oh, that's too bad," Willie said. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Well, like the Bible says," Sam quoted, "life's a bitch."
Chapter 18

Todd was upset for a variety of reasons. It had been a terrible week. First of all, he was still recovering from the trauma in the woods he had experienced with Jordan. He had not even gone to visit Daisy for fear that the dog would trigger memories of the attack. Todd did not think he could see her without picturing her sinking her fangs into the drifter's hand. He did his best to not think about that evening, however, the harder he tried to not think about it the more often he found himself obsessing over it.

Secondly, there was Mattie. She still had not called him back or returned any of his messages. He did not want to be the jealous fiancé, but he could not help but think she was having an affair. In fact, he was nearly sure she was; it was the only reason why she would ignore him. He just could not imagine who she was seeing. There were not any strange men hanging out at her house that Todd could remember. Sure, there were the patients, but Mattie had little to do with the actual work of the center and Todd could not imagine her socializing with them. The only possibility that he could think of was Jordan Lewis, and that was so far-fetched he initially dismissed it out of mind.

At least initially, As he reflected on it, maybe the possibility of Jordan and Mattie was not as far-fetched as he had thought? He had assumed Jordan was in some shady business with Richard, but perhaps he had been there on Tuesday to see Mattie. Mattie did drugs, she had to be getting them from someone, likely Jordan. Todd had observed firsthand that Jordan had few scruples. If he was willing to attack a hobo with a machete he would not think twice about seducing his friend's fiancé.

Third, there was Todd's work. Somehow, despite Todd's best efforts, Daryl had gotten Todd assigned to teach Sociology 244. Todd had just gotten the word from Jenkin's himself earlier that day. Now he had a whole semester's worth of classes to prepare and only had a month to do so.

In theory, Darlene had already prepared all the lecture materials for the class. However, he had not been able to get ahold of her and he did not want to go to the rehab center to try to find her in person. Not with things as they were between him and Mattie. Daryl claimed that there was a copy of the syllabus and reading list somewhere in his office. He refused to come to campus himself to get it but had given Todd his permission to look for it.

Since Mattie had his car, so Todd rode his bike to campus. Given his mood, the exercise was a welcomed release. He locked his bike in the racks across from the pond and threaded his way through the crowds to the sociology building. Normally, the campus was empty on Friday evenings, but today it was packed with students and alumni attending the Grey Gander's wake. Todd sighed, it seemed as if he would be the only one working rather than celebrating tonight.

The building was empty, and his steps echoed in the halls. Todd went down the stairs and tested the handle to Daryl's door. As Daryl had promised, the door was unlocked. Todd had almost been wishing otherwise. It would have given him an excuse to put off working on the class until the next week. Instead, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Daryl's office was a mess. Todd tripped over an old broken umbrella that had fallen in front of the door. He kicked it to the side and navigated the mess to Daryl's desk. He had hoped that he would be able to enter the office, find the class materials, and leave quickly. However, it appeared that it was not going to be so easy. Todd did not even know which cabinet Daryl had been referring too.

Todd began at Daryl's desk. The top drawer contained nothing of interest. Well, at least not for Todd's current purposes. Under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed going through the many pill bottles, creams, inhalers and even a few syringes that served as a testament to his advisor's hypochondria.

Next, Todd checked the bottom drawer. On the very top was Darlene's dissertation, he eagerly pulled it out to see if her syllabus was underneath it. Instead, something gleaming metal caught his eye. He pulled out Jordan's gun.

Todd had never held a gun before. The closest thing he had come to holding a weapon had been the baseball bat Jordan had given him in the woods. Even then, he had dropped that. He cocked and held the gun like he had seen in the movies. Just then Jordan burst into the office.

Like Anthony at Marion's house, Todd was startled enough that he accidentally squeezed the trigger. The gun went off with a bang.

"Holy crap!" Jordan yelled. Unlike at Marion's house, the bullet did not hit anyone. It had missed Jordan by several inches and lodged into the doorframe.

Todd immediately lowered the gun. He sighed with relief. Once again, he and Jordan had almost had another disaster. Unlike the time in the woods though, this time he would have had no one to blame but himself

Jordan twirled his van keys and whistled as he studied the hole in the doorframe. Idly he said, "What do you know, twice in the same day."

"What?"

"Oh nothing, I was just saying it was lucky that I didn't get hit."

"What are you doing here?"

"I just need to get some cash," said Jordan going to the bookshelf. "I have to go on a trip for a bit. What are you doing here? It's my dad's office. And why do you have a gun?"

"I'm looking for a syllabus."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Are what dangerous?"

"Never mind. Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn around, I don't want anyone to see where I hide my money."

"I'm not turning my back to you," said Todd. "Not after the other night. And also, not after what you did to Mattie."

"What?" said Jordan shocked. He did not think that anyone knew about Mattie's death but Anthony and himself. "You know about that? How?"

"I'm not stupid, Jordan,"

He and Mattie must have had some sort of psychic connection, thought Jordan.

"It wasn't anything planned," Jordan tried to explain. "It just sort of happened."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Anthony began it all.

"There was more than one!"

I didn't see her come--"

"Ew!"

"--I just finished her off. She practically begged for it!" said Jordan trying to console his friend. "Well, she would have if she could. Her mouth was full."

"Stop it!" said Todd aiming the gun at Jordan.

"Woah, calm down," said Jordan. "Let's, not have an accident."

Todd had heard enough. He knew he would never learn why Jordan did it, or exactly what had happened. He certainly did not know who Anthony was. But Jordan had pushed him around enough. Three nights ago Todd had seen him attack those kids in the woods and had done nothing. Then Jordan had stolen Mattie from him and Todd had done nothing. Tonight, he would finally stand up to him. He cocked and raised the gun and fired. Jordan was hit in the stomach. He crumpled to the ground and lay gasping.

Todd went to him and picked up the van keys that Jordan had dropped. They would come in useful, after all, he could not bike away after this. Like he had seen in the movies, Todd wiped the handle, hammer, and trigger of the gun with the edge of his shirt and dropped it next to Jordan. He went out the door and closed it behind him.

Jordan had opened his eyes when he heard the gun drop near his head. With the last of his strength he managed to choke out, "Hey, that's my gun! I was looking for that."

* * *

Todd's instincts were to run far, far away and try to escape the whole situation. He'd seek help from his parents on the East Coast. They had money and connections; they could get a good lawyer to help him out. After all, what was the evidence linking him to any wrongdoing? He admitted that his relationship with Jordan put him in an awkward spot, especially considering Mattie's infidelity. But he was sure a good lawyer could explain away any connection he had to Jordan's death. After all, Jordan was involved with a lot of shady characters. Todd was sure Jordan had plenty of enemies.

He hoped that wiping the gun off with his shirt was actually successful. It, like all of his experience with guns, came from movies and television and he did not know if such things actually worked in the real world. It was no time to second guess himself now though.

He burst out the front doors of the sociology building and gave a sigh of relief.

"Well that's at least lucky," he said out loud. There was a van parked in front of the building in the fire lane and it chirped when Todd pressed the button on the keys. He was worried about how he was going to find Jordan's vehicle, but only Jordan would have parked so carelessly. He bounded down the steps of the building to the van. Just as he was approaching it, however, a tow truck came up behind.

"That's less lucky," Todd said to himself. Then, yelling to the tow truck driver "Wait, stop!" The tow truck had stopped behind the van and the driver was getting out to hook up the van.

"Stop!" Todd yelled again, but shut his mouth when he saw a cop come up.

"Is this your van?" the campus cop asked.

"Um," said Todd, a cop was the last person he wanted to see. He would walk away if he could, but that would make him look even more suspicious.

"Well, is it or isn't it?" the cop asked.

"It's my friend's," Todd answered somewhat truthfully. "I'm borrowing it," he added, somewhat less truthfully.

"It was in the fire lane," the cop said. "I tried letting it off with a ticket, but it was here too long." The officer walked over to the windshield to get the ticket to show to Todd in case Todd did not believe him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Todd stumbled. He could still get out of this if he played his cards right. "Can I pay a fine or something? Again, it's my friends and it would be a huge mess if it got towed because of me."

"Well," the cop said, "Let's talk to the tow guy and see what we can do." The campus cops were notoriously easy going. Todd hoped that the tow truck driver would be similarly well disposed. He followed the cop over to talk to the truck operator.

The tow truck operator was on his hands and knees trying to hook up the back of the van. Before the cop or Todd could speak to him, he jerked his hand out from under the van.

"Shit!" he said, wiping his hands on his coveralls. "Hey, kid, did you run something over? It's a mess back here, must have been something big, like a deer?"

The cop knelt down to look too. Todd began to sweat. This was not going in the right direction. He had no idea of what Jordan was doing with the van. Considering Jordan, nothing good. Todd saw that the operator's hands were still covered in oil and a red mess. He also noticed that the back fender of the van was slightly dented.

"Just a minute," the officer said. He went to the front of the van. "Weird, no dent in the front. How do you back over a deer?"

Suddenly Todd had a very sick feeling in his stomach. He watched the cop go to the side of the van and shine a flashlight through the passenger side window.

"What are you doing?" Todd asked. "Don't you need a warrant for that?"

"Warrant for what?" asked the cop, no longer in a gracious mood "Are those bloody towels on your passenger seat?"

"I don't know," Todd said truthfully.

"Sir," the cop said to Todd. "Can you open up the back of the van?"

"Can I?" Todd asked. "I cannot think of a reason why I can't," he stammered.

The three of them stood there silent why Todd tried to think of a reason why he could not.

"Sir," the officer repeated, "open the van."

The feeling in Todd's stomach grew worse. He felt like he was going to ruin a second pair of pants. He slowly walked up to the back of the van and put the keys into it.

"Let's get this over with," he whispered to himself. He pulled on the handle the doors flew open.

Todd, the cop, and the tow truck operator's mouths fell open in shock as Mattie's mutilated body spilled out of the back of the truck along with what appeared to be an exquisitely crafted sex doll. Mattie's face was too damaged; Todd could not read her expression. The sex doll, however, looked equally surprised to see them. Then again, perhaps that was just how she was made.
Chapter 19

It was still early in the evening, but Denise was already pleased with the turnout for the wake. She was not sure what to expect while planning. It was summer, and many students were not on campus. However, the ones that were around showed up in force. Not only that, but they had brought alumni and friends with them. Sam had even shown up and she was a notorious stick-in-the-mud. Even with the caterer getting a late start, the paper had already made enough money to cover its investment in food, drinks, and fireworks.

Denise had been a little disappointed that there had not been any confrontation with the administration or police about her holding the wake at the same time as the professor's funeral. She had been looking forward to a fight. However, given how exhausted she was, it was just as well things had gone along peacefully.

She glanced at Peter; he was the only one at the wake who looked like he had been crying. He had had a long night in the emergency room and his face was puffy. She felt sorry for her friend. Therefore, she did not scold him for hiring Tonya who seemed frazzled and overwhelmed. The job was way too much for just one person. Denise just made a mental note to hire a more professional caterer for the next event.

"Should we bring out the Grey Gander," one of the interns asked. Denise nodded her approval. It was getting dark out and time for the guest of honor to show up. The interns hurried to prepare for the main event of the wake. They took the gander from the cooler where it was on ice and placed it in a plastic kiddie pool. For the first time, the crowd grew silent and somber at the sight of their mascot. They began to file past laying flowers, cards, and rubber ducks into the pool. They were also lighting candles around the pond as well. As the line progressed, the atmosphere became lighter and people became more and more relaxed and intoxicated.

"Do you think it will still float?" Peter asked, "it's getting pretty heavy." Denise planned to give the Gander a Viking funeral by setting it on fire and then pushing it afloat in the pond. It seemed fitting to cremate the goose on the pond where it had spent its whole life.

Denise agreed with Peter and decided to cut it off there. She, Peter and a few interns dragged the pool to the pond's edge.

The crowd grew quiet once again. "Friends, students, and Alumni," Denise announced. "We are gathered here to say goodbye to a treasured friend. The Grey Gander was more than a goose, she was the heart of this campus. The administration never understood us, but she was always there for us. At least until a monkey bit her head off."

"Amen," Peter said.

She and Peter liberally doused the kiddie pool and goose in lighter fluid. Although most of Peter's fluid just got on his clothes; he was still getting used to missing both his middle fingers.

"How much should we use," he asked Denise.

"Not sure," Denise said. "I guess too much is better than too little. We don't want it to go out or only burn up half of the goose. That'd be gross." She emptied another bottle in the pool and added another just to be on the safe side.

"There, do you want to do the honors?" she asked holding out a lighter to Peter.

"Really?" he asked. It was not like Denise to allow others to share the limelight. However, after her reconciliation with Sam, she was feeling generous.

"I was thinking of what you said yesterday about me hogging all the credit. You deserve it," Denise said. "After all, you sacrificed a finger. Send our bird to Vahalla."

"Really? Thanks, Denise!" Peter beamed. He reached out to try to grab the lighter. He nearly dropped it due to the bandages.

"Got it?" Denise asked.

"I think so," Peter said. He flicked it on and instantly burst into flames. His clothes were soaked in lighter fluid.

"Oh God!" he yelled out.

"Jesus!" Denise yelled tackling him to the ground and trying to roll out the flames. The crowd panicked and screamed. Peter's foot accidentally hit the kiddie pool and ignited it. It turned out that he and Denise had used more than enough lighter flood. A column of flame shot up twenty feet in the air and set the tree branches overhead on fire. The last few weeks had been hot and dry so the vegetation was soon roaring in flames.

Denise's quick thinking saved Peter's life, but she was the only one in the vicinity who had kept a cool head. At the sight of Peter covered in flames, the crowd had panicked. At the site of the tree in flames, they were in chaos. Drunk students were running in all directions. Tonya was trying to shut off the grill as the flames crept closer. She did not have time and gave up. She abandoned her grill to the flames as she ran to save herself. The fire crept along the dry grass and bushes. They reached the propane tanks of the grill and suddenly a set of explosions rocked the campus. The exploding tanks set off a chain reaction setting off the illegal fireworks into the wall of the sociology building.

* * *

Daryl Lewis was often worried that he was being exposed to radon and asbestos in his basement office. While radon might have been a concern, Daryl would have been happy to learn that the building contained no asbestos. If it had, it is likely that it would not have burst into flames quite so easily.

Sam and Willie had been watching the wake from their spot away from the crowd. They had been so engrossed in their private conversation that they had not noticed the fire until the propane tanks exploded. As Sam watched the unplanned firework display, Willie called the fire department.

"Hurry," Sam said as she saw the building ignite.

"They're on their way," Willie said. "But it will be a bit. The dispatcher said there was a fire on the other side of town. Some old lady left her stove on and blew herself up."

"Oh," was all Sam could say. It had been the Lord's decision, but even so, she could not help but feel somewhat responsible.

"I hope no one is in there," Willie said pointing to the sociology building.

"I hope so too," Sam said. She had often told people that they were going to burn in Hell, but seeing an actual fire made her realize how terrible such a fate would be. She would not wish it on her worst enemies. Not even God's enemies.

Sam and Willie stared at the burning building. A window on the top floor opened and a man waved frantically.

"Aw crap," Sam said looking around. There was no one to save the professor; all the other students were panicking.

"What are you doing?" Willie called out after her, but she was already running towards the burning building.

Sam dodged the panicking students and circled the building to the front where the flames had not yet reached. There was a van in the fire lane, but still no sign of a fire engine so she raced into the building and ran up the stairs to the top floor. Between the roaring of the flames, she heard a voice calling from above. The smoke got thicker as she went up each flight of stairs. Her eyes burned, and she coughed; it was almost as bad as when she smoked weed with Joe Baker. Sam listened carefully, but the voice had died down so she had to guess where the man was.

She went from door to door and room to room checking. In the middle of the hall, she came to Jenkin's office. She opened the door and found the department chair laying on the floor moaning. She knelt next to him and lifted him to a sitting position, then hoisted the man over her shoulders. He was heavy, but Sam was strong, she carried Jenkins out of the office and down the burning stairs. She made it out of the building and into the arms of a firefighter just as the roof of the building collapsed.

* * *

In her role as editor of the student paper, Denise had often said she had wanted to light a fire under the administration's ass. She had not quite meant it so literally. After she had pulled Peter to safety, she watched as the fire spread to the campus buildings. The fire department had arrived and started putting out the flames. Unfortunately, they were unable to get close enough to the Sociology building. Some jackass had parked in the fire lane in front of the building and had prevented the fire trucks from getting near enough.

She looked around for Sam but did not see her. She hoped that her friend had gotten away safely. Plenty of other people had not. The sidewalk was littered with people who had fallen or got trampled. Others were suffering from smoke inhalation. A few had minor burns, but at least no one was as badly injured as Peter.

"This is not good," she said to an unconscious Peter. He would have certainly agreed with her if he could have. "Well," Denise continued, "I'm not going to stay here to get in trouble. Time to split. Sorry to leave this all on your lap." Denise hated to leave Peter to bear the blame for burning down the campus, but she could not see many alternatives. At least no alternatives that did not involve her taking the responsibility. Anyway, she could not bring him with her. He was in no shape to be brought anywhere except the hospital. The only other option seemed to be to drag him back into the flames. Out of the two, Denise thought it would be crueler to let him burn to death. Although it was a close call.

Denise took to the alleyways and headed to the paper's office to collect her things. She was stuffing things into her bag when she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Open up. Police," a voice on the other side called out.

"Shit!" Denise said. She ran to a window. It was right above the dumpster of a Mexican restaurant below.

"Open up! We want to talk to you about the fire." the police knocked again. It was clear they were not going to knock a third time.

She opened the window; luckily it did not stick and lowered herself out. She hung onto the window ledge and let go.

"Stop!" called out the police from the window above. Denise ducked into the alley and ran into the street right in front of Tonya.

"Shit!" Tonya yelled as she slammed on the brakes.

"Let me in!" Denise said frantically.

"What!" Tonya asked.

"The cops are after me!" Denise said getting in the passenger seat. "Hurry, drive!" Tonya stepped on the gas.

"What happened back there?" asked Tonya somewhat rhetorically. She had watched also watched the building collapse. All in all, she had thought to herself, it was just as well Anthony had not shown up for work. The event turned out to be a disaster, and it was just as well he was not there to get hurt. Besides, this was going to be bad for business. After all, it was her propane tanks that had exploded. Tonya figured it would be best to leave the state for a while.

Tonya almost felt vaguely satisfied as she coasted away from the campus. Her business was ruined, but perhaps this would be the push she needed to get out of Ohio. She had to admit to herself that lately, she had been in a sort of a rut. Perhaps she would go join her parents on the West Coast.

"Where are we heading?" Denise asked.

"We?" Tonya asked. She did not know Denise. Besides, Tonya had almost been looking forward to starting a new life on her own. She was finally free of Anthony and soon would be free of Daryl and all her other obligations. She did not want to take on the care of anyone else.

However, as she looked at Denise's pleading face, she knew that, as usual, she could not bring herself to say "no."

"Does it matter?" Tonya asked.

Denise thought for a moment. "As long as it is out of Ohio," she said shaking her head. "Then no." She buckled her seat belt and Tonya drove west.
Saturday, July 14th
Chapter 20

Daryl woke up late on Saturday morning and stretched. Normally he suffered from insomnia and was awake early. However, ever since his bereavement leave he had been sleeping great. In fact, he felt fantastic. Except for his normal headache and sprained arm, he actually felt better than he had in years. Staying away from campus had really improved his outlook on life. He also felt grateful that Jenkins had finally agreed to assign Todd to teach Sociology 244. With his student teaching the class, Daryl could stay at home more often.

After laying lazily in bed for an hour, Daryl got dressed and went downstairs. He half expected to see Tonya down there waiting for him. Normally she stopped by to check on him, but last night she had not shown up. However, the living room and kitchen were just as he had left them the day before. There was no sign that she had been there. He reheated a pot of coffee in the microwave and sat down for breakfast.

Daryl felt so good that he actually did not know what to do with himself. Normally he spent his weekends obsessing about his health and dreading the coming week. However, today he actually felt like being productive. He wondered if Todd had ever gotten ahold of the materials for Sociology 244. Under normal circumstances, Daryl would not trouble himself about this, but since he was in such a good mood, he decided to see if he could help out. It was his class after all.

"Hello, Todd? Are you there Todd? It's Professor Lewis," Daryl spoke into the phone before realizing that it had gone to voicemail. He was not used to technology. He tried contacting Darlene, but she also was not responding.

Daryl was disappointed in his students. Sure, it was Saturday morning, but that was no reason to not answer a call from their advisor. He decided to go to campus and see if he could find the materials himself.

* * *

Daryl was surprised to see a pile of smoldering rubble where the sociology building had once been.

"What happened here?" he asked a passing student.

"There was a fire," the student said giving the obvious answer. "During the funeral yesterday. Didn't you hear?"

"Boy, Joe must have really attracted flames," muttered Daryl. It was fairly obvious that he was not going to find the materials for his course here. He wondered if the gun had survived the fire.

Daryl got back in his car and decided to turn to "Plan B." He would go and get the materials from Darlene in person. Plus, since she was quitting the program, it might be the last time he ever saw her. After six years as his student, he owed it to her to say goodbye face to face.

"Just imagine Jenkins' face when I tell him I took care of the problem myself! And after all the fuss he made!" Daryl gleefully said to himself as he drove towards the Cunningham Rehab Center. "Boy, he'd burn up with embarrassment!"

Upon arriving at the center he noticed that the yard was filled with police cars. "Huh," he said to himself, "I wonder if that is normal." He fought down his fear of the police and got out of the car.

"Hello!" he said ringing the bell. No one invited him in, but as police officers were going back and forth out the door, so he simply followed one of them in. The cop unknowingly led Daryl to the kitchen where Detective Potter was questioning Marion Cunningham.

"Ah!" you must be Marion Cunningham, Daryl said interrupting Marion as she was being questioned by Detective Potter at the kitchen table. Potter held up a hand to silence Daryl.

"When was the last time you saw Todd Moreno?" Potter asked Marion.

"Days, ago. Maybe a week?" Marion said.

"Anyone else seen him lately?" Potter asked.

"I have," Daryl answered.

"Just a minute sir!" Potter said.

"Richard probably," answered Marion. "I'm not sure."

"So, just the man who mysteriously disappeared," Potter said. There had been no trace of Richard since the morning the day before.

"Look, I don't know what to tell you," Marion said close to tears.

"Okay, now, who are you?" Potter asked finally turning to Daryl.

"I'm Professor Daryl Lewis," Lewis said stepping over a stain on the floor and offering his hand to the detective.

"Why are you here?" Potter asked shaking the offered hand.

"Well I'm here about Darlene of course," Daryl said. She was my student.

"Oh," said the detective. "Yes of course. Thanks for being so prompt. I'm surprised the station already called you."

"What?" Daryl asked.

"When was the last time you saw Darlene," Potter asked Daryl.

"At our usual Wednesday meeting," lied Daryl. It wasn't true, but it was the story he had given Jenkins earlier in the week and it was important to stay consistent.

Potter looked at Marion for confirmation.

"She was gone all of Wednesday," Marion nodded.

"And what was that about seeing Todd?" Potter asked.

"Yes, of course, he is my student as well. In fact, he's teaching Sociology 244 this semester. That's what I actually came over for. Is Darlene around?"

Marion and Potter looked at Daryl.

"You mean you don't know?" Potter asked. "Darlene was killed yesterday."

"Oh God!" said Daryl. "How horrible." How was he going to get the lecture materials now?

"I'm very sorry," Potter said.

"Me too," Daryl said.

"I don't want to sound insensitive," continued Potter, "I realize this is a lot to process, but can you tell me more about Todd Moreno? Has he been acting normally lately?"

"As far as I know," Daryl said trying to remember how Todd had behaved the last time he had seen him in the campus restroom. However, Daryl had not been paying much attention to him and could not remember. "What does Todd have to do with it all?" he asked instead.

"We arrested him last night for the murder of Mattie Cunningham," Potter said.

"What?" Daryl exclaimed.

"We suspect he was involved with Darlene's death as well. She was found outside and that blood stain you are standing on is from Mattie," Potter pointed at Daryl's feet.

"Dear God! A.I.D.S.!" Daryl jumping to the side.

"I don't think he did it," Marion said. "He seemed like such a nice boy. I think it was this other boy Mattie was hanging out with. I warned her about him."

"Well, that is Moreno's story as well. He claims that some lowlife killed the two women."

"Oh, oh," Daryl said. Potter had not named Jordan, but Daryl could not help but suspect his son was the "lowlife" Todd mentioned.

"He claims that he shot this Lewis character and the body is in the basement of the sociology building on campus. Of course, it will be a while before we find anything in that wreckage," Potter continued.

"Oh no!" Daryl said falling to the floor. "Not Jordan! Not my son!"

"Your son?" Potter asked.

"What!" Marion exclaimed. "That monster murdered my Mattie!" She leapt at Daryl, but Potter held her back before she could harm Daryl.

"Take it easy Mrs. Cunningham," he said. "Let's stay calm and get to the bottom of this.

"Are you sure Jordan is dead?" Daryl asked.

"No, like we said, we haven't found a body," Potter said. "But at the same time, it doesn't look very good. If I were you, I'd prepare for the worst. Now," Potter said once Marion had calmed down. "When was the last time you saw your son, Professor?"

"He was such a nice little boy," Daryl said.

"I'm sure he was," Potter said.

"My wife and I did our best, but somethings are just out of a parent's control," Daryl lamented.

"Of course, I'm sure that you did the best you could for him," Potter said. "But it is important to answer the--"

Daryl ignored the detective. "And now," he cried, "there's nothing left to remember him by. Just his backpack," Daryl said reaching under the table and pulling out Jordan's bag.

"Backpack?" Potter asked. Jordan's had thrown his backpack on the table while cleaning up Mattie. In all the chaos that followed, it had fallen to the floor and gotten knocked under the table. Marion and the police had not noticed it.

"Yes, it reminds me of his first day of school! Boy, he was so scared to go off on his own. It damn near broke my heart," Daryl said opening the backpack.

"Sir, don't! That's evidence!" Potter said motioning to an officer to bring a camera and evidence bags. However, Daryl was not listening to Potter.

"Hmm," said Daryl. "He didn't have that on the first day of school, I wonder where he got it?" he asked pulling a German grenade out of the bag. The pin fell out in his hands.

"Get down!" Potter yelled knocking the grenade out of Daryl's hand. The detective fell flat on top of Daryl. As the grenade left Daryl's hands the other cops scattered out of the kitchen. No one but Marion was around to watch it arc through the air, over the kitchen table and fall right into her lab.

"Oh damn," she said and then exploded.
Chapter 21

Daryl opened his eyes and was blinded by sunlight. He closed them again and re-opened them, squinting this time. This time he saw a bright blue sky without any clouds. He sat up and looked around him. He found himself laying on the ground in front of what appeared to be the penguin exhibit at the local zoo. He heard a childish giggle coming from behind him.

"Daddy funny," the child said pointing at him. Daryl was shocked to see Jordan as he had appeared back when Jordan was three years old.

"Jordy?" he asked.

Baby Jordan, or Jordy, giggled and ran to his father.

"Oh, Jordy!" Daryl sighed hugging his son. "I'm so glad you aren't dead. It was all a horrible dream. I'm sorry, from now on I promise that I will be a much better father and at least a mediocre professor."

Jordan wiggled out of Daryl's grasp and run-off giving Daryl a time to study himself. He looked down at his hands, and then touched his face and stomach. He must be twenty-five, maybe thirty years younger. He leapt to his feed from a sitting position; it had been years since he was able to do that.

"Ready honey?" his dead wife appeared holding Jordan's hand. After her murder, Daryl had often dreamed about his wife. Eventually, to his relief, the dreams had stopped over time. The memories of her were just too painful. He preferred to focus on his own ailments and illnesses.

This time, however, he found her presence was calming and peaceful.

"Oh, Janet!" he exclaimed. "You're alive too! How wonderful! I'm so happy."

"Of course I'm alive, silly," his wife punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Are we going to get lunch now or not?"

"Of course, whatever you want," Daryl said. He grabbed his wife and son by the hand and they started towards the concession stand. Before they left, Jordan stopped.

"Birdies!" he called out and pointed at the penguins.

"Oh dear!" Daryl exclaimed looking at the penguin cage. The birds were behaving awfully. It was no sight for a child.

"Daryl! Do something!" his dead wife hissed.

"Bad penguins!" Daryl yelled. He slammed his fist onto the glass trying to get them to stop. This, of course, only further aroused the birds. He slammed on the glass again but to no avail.

"Let's just go," he suggested.

"Are you going to let a bird boss you around?" his wife said. "That's not the man I married."

Daryl sighed. First geese, now penguins. He went and tapped on the glass this time. Despite his gentle touch, the glass cracked.

"Oh shit," Daryl said. The glass broke open, and water gushed out sweeping Daryl and his family off their feet.

"Is everyone okay?" Daryl asked checking on Janet and Jordan.

"Look, daddy, a teddy bear!" Jordan said gleefully. Daryl slowly turned his head. A giant polar bear had appeared and was devouring the horny penguins.

"Oh no!" he said nearly voiceless with fear.

"What do we do!" Janet asked grasping Jordan close to her.

Daryl racked his brain for a plan. "I lost you once already, I can't bear to lose you again," he said to his wife.

"This is no time for puns! Do something!"

"Doggy!" little Jordan said clapping happily. A giant St. Bernard had now appeared, and Daryl watched as the dog fought the bear. They seemed to have done this before, and the bear soon tired of the redundancy and walked away.

"Good dog, thank you!" Daryl said gratefully as the dog came over. She began to lick his face "Oh boy, your breath stinks!"

* * *

Daryl opened his eyes and was blinded again by sunlight. No, he thought, not sunlight, this was fluorescent light. Instead of a blue sky, he saw a ceiling light and ceiling tiles. He felt lightheaded and strangely younger. Not thirty years younger like in his dream, but still, an improvement. He reached up to feel his head. It was shaved and bandaged.

"I want to go back," he moaned as he realized he had been dreaming. His wife and son were still dead.

"Ah, Mr. Lewis, you are awake," a doctor said coming up to him. "Quite a week you had. I am looking at your chart, it looks like a broken arm, an explosion, and surgery."

"What explosion? What surgery?" Daryl asked.

"Yes," said the doctor. You were in some sort of explosion. At a...," the doctor looked through the papers on her clipboard, "...ah here it is, at the Cunningham Rehab Center. Do you remember that?"

"Yes," he said sadly as the events flooded back to him. Not only was Jordan dead, but he was likely a murderer.

"Well, the good news," continued the doctor, "was that the detective saved your life. Actually, there was only one fatality. It was a miracle that more people didn't get hurt. The even better news, for you at least, was that when we were scanning you to see if you had any brain damage we discovered a tumor growing in your head. We decided to go in and take it out. We were not able to contact your son or your niece. But we figured you wouldn't mind. Assuming if you survived. If you died, then we'd also be off the hook. Win-win for us. Overall, I'm happy to say the whole procedure was a complete success."

"That explains the headaches I was having," said Daryl. He tried to sit up and found himself handcuffed to the hospital bed.

Oh yes, said the doctor. "And now for the bad news..."

* * *

As the doctor explained to Daryl that he was under being held for questioning about his role in the deaths of Jordan, Mattie, Darlene, and Marion, Sam was in a room down the hall recovering from smoke inhalation. She opened her eyes.

"Thank God! You're awake!" her father said coming up next to her bed. Sam was surprised to hear her father speak of God.

"Dad?" she asked. "What happened?"

"You rushed into a burning building and saved a professor. It was really brave and stupid of you. You passed out from the smoke and were unconscious all night and most of the day," he explained.

Sam thought back to her arguments with her father. They had seemed irrevocably opposed to one another back then, now, the fights just seemed silly. She was just glad that she was alive and that he was there for her.

"Do you remember a few weeks ago when we talked about me going back to school?" she asked her dad. She had said she'd go back once the campus was cleansed by Hellfire. The other night had been close enough.

"Of course," he said.

"Do you think you can help me get in? Maybe I can start off in zoology?" she asked. That way she might be able to get an internship at the zoo and spend more time with Willie.

"Sure, thing honey, but we'll worry about that later," her dad said, "you have one more visitor, then you have to rest. The doctor said you could go home later tomorrow if everything goes well." He patted her hand and left the room. A few seconds later Willie came in.

"Willie? You came!" she said excitedly.

"Of course," he said. "I never saw anyone do anything so remarkable. The way you saved that man was amazing," he said with respect.

"Well, it was no big deal," said Sam. She did not want to admit that she had felt somewhat responsible for delaying the firefighters.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," said Willie, "I'll let you get some rest.

"Wait!" said Sam. There was so much he did not know about her. She had no idea how to break the subject, especially so early in the relationship. What if she scared him away? Still, it was better to get everything in the open now before things went further between them.

"Willie?" she said.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I know it is early on in our relationship, but there is something you should know about me," she said.

"What?" he asked.

"Well," Sam said and hesitated.

"What is it? Whatever it is, you can tell me," he said taking her hand.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "Before we go too far, you should now," she said looking into his eyes. "I'm going to want a church wedding."
Chapter 22

It had been the busiest week of Rodney Smith's career. He and his assistant finally got, what he hoped, was the last body for the week unloaded from the van an into the morgue.

"Do you need me to start the forms?" his assistant asked.

"Naw, go on, enjoy what's left of your weekend," Rodney said. He actually liked working late even on the weekends.

"Sure, suit yourself," the assistant said.

Rodney waited until the door closed, then he relaxed. He was much more comfortable with the dead than with the living. In fact, with some dead, perhaps too comfortable.

Rodney had what his grandmother called "the gift." It appeared throughout the generations of his family. Some were so "gifted" that they went mad. They could not escape visits from the dead and the continual hauntings drove them insane. Rodney was lucky, only one dead person visited him, and he rather liked her.

She only appeared in the morgue, and only when he was alone, which is why he was always glad to get rid of his assistant. Sometimes it would be days or even a week before she would appear, but she always showed up eventually. She had been visiting Rodney for years.

Rodney looked over the collection of corpses that had accumulated in the morgue over the last week. There was plenty of dead bodies for the spirit to inspect, but Rodney doubted she would find what she was looking for. He actually doubted whether she would ever find it. The woman was searching for her murderer. She hoped that the killer would show up in the morgue one day and she would be able to rest peacefully. Rodney doubted that would ever happen. He was sure that the killer was far, far away. Even so, the woman showed up at least once a week to look over the bodies. When she didn't find what she was looking for, she would spend time chatting with Rodney. They were both rather lonely and looked forward to each other's company.

He picked up a book and read while he waited. One of the bodies that he had picked up on Tuesday had a paperback copy of Winesburg Ohio in his pocket. Rodney read a few chapters, then put the book down. He was too tired to read. Instead, he turned on the television to a rerun of Hogan's Heroes.

"What are you wasting your time for on that crap?" the woman said materializing from behind him.

"It's a classic," Rodney said.

"Hardly. It's garbage. A comedy set in a concentration camp?"

"It is not a concentration camp. It is a P.O.W. camp."

"I believe my point is still valid. If I was still alive, I'd not spend my Saturday evening cooped up watching T.V."

"But then I'd miss out on talking with you."

"Oh, I bet you say that to all of the dead women."

"Just the friendly ones," said Rodney. "Speaking of, should we get down to business? There's a bunch of them this week."

"Oh, how wonderful!"

"Yeah, not really. The first four are the prettiest." Rodney got up and opened for drawers in the wall, each one containing a body collected from the Cunningham Center. The ghost hovered over each one and looked at it very closely.

"How do you know what you are looking for?" Rodney asked. It was a question he asked each time.

"I'll know," the ghost said. It was the response she gave each time.

"Any of these?" Rodney asked.

"No, they were certainly troubled, but none of them are my murderer."

"I wouldn't think so, three of them would have been kids when you died."

"I wonder what my child is like," the ghost said.

"You had a son, right?"

"Yes, and adorable son," the ghost sighed. "I hope my murder didn't impact him too badly. Who knows how much he has changed?"

"Well, kids are pretty resilient," Rodney, who knew nothing of children, said. He closed the drawers and went to the next set. "Like I said, those were the pretty ones. Then next ones are messes."

He pulled out the remains of Mattie, Darlene, and Kimberly. "There's one more in the bag on the table, but there is not much left--"

The ghost gasped.

"What?" Rodney asked. He had never seen her so shocked. It was hard to surprise the dead.

"It's her!" the woman said pointing at the remains of Kimberly.

"Really? Are you sure?" Rodney asked. The gas explosion had not left much of the old woman. Rodney had only been able to identify it by the name listed on the deed of the house.

"I'm sure," said the spirit.

"You can tell? Just based on that?" Rodney said pointing at the meager remains.

"I can tell. This is the woman that took my life. She's the reason why I'll never see my son or husband again."

"Gee," was all Rodney could think to say.

"At least I know. I can rest now knowing that she has met her fate."

"Wait, you're going? Just like that?"

The ghost was already becoming more transparent. Rodney could barely see her at all. They could not hug or shake hands goodbye. So instead, they just waved.

"Goodbye, Rodney Smith."

"Goodbye, Janet Lewis."

* * *

Rodney was hit hard by the ghost's departure. She had become a familiar feature in his life. He would miss her.

It seemed wrong to watch Hogan's Heroes now. As the ghost pointed out, it was never a very appropriate setting for a comedy and Rodney felt more like crying than laughing. He turned the T.V. off and picked the book back up again.

He got to an interesting chapter with voyeurism in it when he heard a noise coming from the body bag on the examination table. This was the last body that they had just brought in and Rodney had left it out on the table. He was not sure that there was enough left over to examine. He went over and unzipped the bag.

A pale middle-aged woman sat up gasping for breath and wild-eyed. Rodney looked back, equally surprised. He had not expected a new otherworldly visitor so soon.

"Hello," he said. "It's disturbing at first, but you get used to it."

The woman looked at her transparent hands and suddenly the full realization of what had happened hit her.

"Aw shit," said Marion Cunningham.

Chapter 23

The second night Anthony had ever spent in the woods was beginning. And it was gearing up to be as bad as his first. When he started running, he had not he had not given any thought about where he was going. He was just trying to escape the image of Mattie lying dead on the kitchen floor. Eventually, after what seemed like miles, he found himself standing in front of the Enola Gay statue. The park seemed as good as any place to hide. He had gone as deep into the woods as he could, hoping that the trees would conceal him. He slept fitfully during the day and woke as the temperatures cooled with the setting sun.

He sat up and looked for his traveling companion, Daisy. After the gunshot, Daisy had been upset as Anthony and had run outside. Like him, she had no idea where to go once she got outside. When Anthony had come running out she was relieved to see her new friend and joined him for his escape.

She saw Anthony was awake and gave an excited "arf" and rushed over to lick his face.

"Ew!" Anthony said. "That's the grossest thing ever!" he said forgetting for a moment about watching Mattie die. "Let's go try to find something to eat."

Both man and dog were starving. Daisy had found some spiders under a log, but they did little to sate her appetite. She was also beginning to feel lonely. She missed Todd. Anthony was okay, but Daisy found him to be dull company; he did not play games or give her treats.

Anthony was too concerned about his future to worry about making a good impression on Daisy. The shock of Mattie's death was beginning to wear off. How much further could he go until he ran out of woods? This was Ohio after all, and the state is not known for its vast wilderness areas. Eventually, he'd run into people and have to explain himself. How was he going to eat? Where was he going to go? What was Darlene going to think?

Suddenly up ahead, he heard the sound of voices. Apparently, he was going to run into people a lot sooner than he had expected. He and Daisy crept closer. There was a clearing up ahead with what looked like a campsite. Anthony caught the smell of food cooking over a fire.

Daisy also could smell the food. However, she felt a strong sense of déjà vu.

"Arf!" she barked in warning.

"Who's there?" called out Ray. At the sound of the bark, Jessica and the other drifters stopped what they were doing gone off and hid behind trees. Ray was recovering from his wounds but still weak. The vet that Richard had taken to him and done wonders, but between the bill and the "loan" to Richard, it had cost Ray most of the money he had cached in the park. Still, he felt glad to be alive.

"Just me," Anthony said, "I'm lost and hungry," he added.

Ray held a knife in one hand and approached Anthony.

"Easy there!" Anthony said. He did not know why Ray was so on edge. "I just need some food. Please."

"Are you alone?" Ray asked.

"Almost," Anthony said indicating the empty space next to him where he had assumed Daisy had followed.

"Just a moment," he said when noticed Daisy was not there. He went back to the woods to grab her.

Daisy did not want to get up. She wanted to be a good dog and obey Anthony's commands, but she remembered biting Ray. She did not think he would be happy to see her and she did not want to get in trouble.

"Come on girl, let's go," Anthony said beckoning to her. Eventually, he lost patience and began to drag her to the clearing.

Daisy began to whimper. She struggled against Anthony but he was a human, and she was too used to obeying people to resist for long. She allowed herself to be dragged into the clearing with her tail between her legs. "Here," Anthony said. "It's just us."

Daisy whimpered. She felt terrible about biting Ray. If she could, she would have explained that she had been frightened and had forgotten herself in the heat of the moment. If she could have explained herself, Ray would probably understand. He was a changed man himself. However, the communication barrier was insurmountable.

"It's you!" Ray shouted recognizing Daisy. "It's them! The maniac is back!" he yelled.

"Maniac?" Anthony asked dropping his hold on Daisy's collar. She bounded away from him and rushed into the safety of the trees.

Jessica led the other drifters from their hiding spots and they surrounded Anthony. They pushed him over and began pummeling and kicking him. Ray stabbed him in the ass, and then again in the gut.

"Help!" Anthony screamed.

The beating became more severe. They pulled Anthony towards their fire. He was stabbed again in the gut.

Anthony thought back to the evening he and Mattie had spent by the campus pond. At the time, he just thought he had met a pretty girl who he had a lot in common with. There was no indication then that things would end so violently. He uncovered his face for a second to look at his attackers. He saw Jessica walking towards him with an ax. Again, his mind rushed to that evening by the pond.

"So, this is how that goose must have felt," he said out loud.

* * *

Daisy rushed away from Anthony's screams as fast as she could. After a few moments, the screams stopped, and the forest returned to its normal calm.

Anthony was gone. He had not been very good company, but he had been company none-the-less. For the first time in Daisy's life, she was completely alone. This was terrifying, so she decided to do what had always calmed her in the past. Hunt for spiders. She turned over logs and stones and found all manner of spiders and different invertebrates. She munched on them happily. She heard the noise of running water and went over to the river for a drink.

Daisy happily lapped up water and then turned to go look for more spiders. She looked up and barked happily. There was a person in the water. She jumped into the river to greet the stranger.

However, it turned out that the stranger was only the decapitated head Sam had sent down the river. It had been caught in an eddy. Daisy was disappointed. The head was certainly interesting, but not as good as a full living human.

She continued downstream exploring the forest and absorbing in all the new sights, sounds and smells. As the sun set, she came across the most curious creature she had ever seen. She stopped in surprise and stared at it. It appeared to be a tiny human but covered in a thick fur much like hers.

Grabby had had his own series of adventures over the past few days. He had met and killed a whole series of forest creatures including a vicious possum he had met the night before. However, like Daisy, he was also lonely. There was a hole in his heart that hunting could not fill. He missed his cage mate and the other research monkeys.

As soon as he set eyes on Daisy, he knew that she was different from all the other animals he had encountered. For one thing, she was huge. He wasn't sure that he could fight her even if he wanted to. But more importantly, he did not want to.

Daisy was a friendly dog. Even to strangers of species she never imagined. She wagged her tail and went over to Grabby. He, in turn, reached out gingerly and rubbed her nose. Daisy opened her mouth and licked Grabby's face. As she did so, Grabby could not help but notice, and be impressed by, her long sharp teeth. He thought of all the animals they would be able to hunt and kill if they teamed up together. They would be unstoppable. He smiled and gestured her to follow him.

It wasn't Todd, but Daisy appreciated the attention and companionship that the monkey offered. When he gestured to her, she obeyed. After all, she was a good dog.

They were an odd pair, monkey and dog, traveling through the Ohioan forest. But somehow, Daisy could not help but think that they made a good team. After all, they were both alone in a world not of their making. She knew that now that they were on their own that they'd face a lot of challenges trying to survive. However, Daisy felt confident that together, she and her new friend could manage.

After all, life may be a bitch, but so was she.

