Jacqueline Druga - Omnicide

She had to use the landline.

“No,” she said into the phone. “Not Cassandra. Cass. Short for Cassia.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s a flower. Yes, look it up. Can you… thank you. Anything you got.” She hung up the receiver of the black phone. She could smell the brewing coffee and that made her happy.

There wasn’t much she could do until she either got a signal, heard the fax or the tickity-tick-tick-tick-tick of the teletype as it rang out.

She just sipped her coffee and sat at the desk when she saw Brian walk in; he was a semi-tall man, slightly on the slender side, the kind of high school teacher Cass wish she’d had when she went to Griffin High.

“Hey,” she said. “You’re early.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied, sitting on the edge of her desk. “I was playing video games all night, not, mind you, connected to the Wi-Fi, so I had to resort back to 1994 Nintendo and those images wouldn’t leave my mind when I closed my eyes.”

“I hate that. I was binge-watching Of Men and Stone …”

“You never watched that? It ended like three years ago.”

“I know. I refused to join the craze. Last night, final season, last two episodes… bam, internet goes out. I could have finished,” Cass said.

“You have to.”

“Don’t tell me what happens.”

“I won’t. Is that why you’re in early?” Brian asked.

“No, I’m on literary punishment, remember. Now”—she tossed out her hand—“I’m stuck on the bug story.”

“The bug story?”

“Yeah, Walt wants me to do a piece on the Monatrod… di am—something or other.”

“The pred bug?” Brian asked.

“Pred bug, bully bug, whatever you call it.”

“That’s pretty important news.”

“It’s old news,” she said. “Yeah, I mean, granted last year when they”—she held her hands up doing quotes—“popped up.”

“Why did you just air quote?” he asked.

“Because I don’t believe for a second they just evolved. That doesn’t happen. Look, like everyone else, I hate the stinkbug. Hate them. But they served a purpose. Then again, I don’t think the stinkbug just happened either.”

“No, they were brought over,” Brian said. “To control the pests that were wreaking havoc on the crops. Until they became the pest.”

“Freaking Chinese.”

“What?” Brian laughed the word. “Why are you cursing the Chinese?”

“Because they created the stinkbug and then they were a problem so they created a bug that would kill them. Now that bug is eating everything in sight, defeating the whole entire natural or unnatural purpose of creating the stinkbug in the first place.”

“Well at least we created something to get rid of the pred bug.”

“Yeah,” Cass said. “And what’s next? They’ll need something to destroy that.”

“I don’t think so…”

“Oh!” She snapped her finger. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe he wants me to do an investigative piece on how the government created the bug that almost destroyed humanity.”

Again, Brian laughed. “How is that?”

“Kill the crops, starve the people.”

“I don’t think it’s deliberate and your investigative reporter skills are what got you in trouble. Are you forgetting why Walt was pissed? You can’t write a story based on your theories.”

“I had proof.”

“What proof did you have that the chief of police was banging his assistant?”

“In cell three.”

“Cass.”

“Mark’s sister’s best friend’s cousin was in cell two sleeping it off. And it’s awfully convenient that the camera wasn’t working.”

“No, it’s not,” Brian said. “Everything goes down in this town.”

“Apparently so does the chief of police in cell three.”

Brian shook his head. “Write the pred bug story and accept your punishment. You’re just lucky your ex-husband is the mayor and got the chief to drop the libel suit.”

“That’s because he has something on the chief.”

“Stop,” Brian said with a lighthearted tone. “Work on your story.”

“I can’t. I’m waiting for info to come in from the AP, I’m just gonna run a repeat.”

“That’s cheating.”

“No it’s not,” Cass argued.

“Just… go online.”

“It’s down,” Cass said.

“No, it’s back.”

“Shit.” Cass spun her chair to the computer. “Think I can catch an episode of Of Men and Stone before—”

“No.” Walt’s voice carried into the small office. He walked in wearing his car shop uniform. “I need you to cover something else. Actually, probably both of you.”

“Drop the pred bug story?” Cass asked.

“Yeah, I’ll grab a copy from the AP and do a rerun.”

Cass gave a smug look to Brian.

“What’s up?” Brian asked.

“Last night there was a three-car accident on Miller Run Road.”

“There were three cars on Miller Run at the same time?” Cass asked. “No one is ever on that road.”

“I know, I thought it was strange too. Two of the cars were tourists that got lost,” Walt said.

“Any casualties?” Brian asked.

“Three casualties, four injuries.”

Brian whistled. “Why do you need the story covered by us both.”

“As a favor to Marge Wakefield,” Walt replied. “Her boy was in the accident.”

Cass gasped. “Brad? Oh my God. Is he…?”

Walt shook his head. “No, thank God. He’s in the hospital. But Jenson was killed.”

“Oh no,” Cass said. “Poor Brad. Marge never really liked her. So she has to feel really bad, too.”

“Anyhow, she seems to think you’re the next Scoop McDaniels after the sex scandal story and wants you to look into it. See if something else happened up there. If, you know, Cass, you’re okay with it.”

Cass nodded. “Yes. Don’t worry about it.”

Walt continued. “Anyhow… Brad is unconscious, the others are alert and aware and she wants answers. As you can understand.”

“More than you realize,” Cass said.

“No, I do,” Walt said. “All three cars are at our shop. State Police were there. See what you can find out and then, Cass, you write up about the accident… Brian, write a nice piece about Jenson.”

“Obituary,” Brian said less than enthused.

“Celebration of life stories, Brian, celebration of life,” Walt replied. “We don’t call them obits anymore. And I have to head back to the shop. Keep in touch. Let me know what you got. I’ll edit the stories for tomorrow’s edition if you can get it together.”

Cass nodded her acknowledgement. Walt was solemn, which was unusual. After another swig of her coffee, Cass stood. “Ready?” she asked Brian.

“Ready… Scoop.”

“That is such a compliment from Marge,” Cass said, as she grabbed her purse and walked to the door. “She has faith that I can get to the truth.”

“Yes, she does, but… unfortunately for you, Scoop, this isn’t an investigative piece,” Brian said and opened the door for her. “It’s just a car accident. Nothing less, nothing more.”

Gyles Farm, Saline County, Nebraska

Larry Gyles swore he wouldn’t be one of them, but he was. He would have sworn, if he were hit, it would be nothing… but it wasn’t.

Far from it.

As a farmer he knew his crops, he knew the normal smell of his land that carried through his open window.

He knew when he’d woken up two days earlier that something was amiss.

Larry wasn’t much of a television guy; he barely watched it. He did listen to the radio. Mostly, if he couldn’t read the news, he didn’t know what was going on.

Fortunately, information was delivered to his house.