Jacqueline Druga - Omnicide

“What was the concoction?” Lena asked. “I mean, maybe I can share it with my viewers.”

“Simple. Garlic juice and vinegar. Combine them. Keeps them all away.”

Lena laughed. “Wouldn’t keep me away. I love garlic and vinegar.”

The doorbell drew both of their attention.

Ada stepped away toward the living room and hollered, “Come in!”

“Oh, stranger danger,” Lena said. “Should you do that?”

Ada patted her sidearm. “Sweetie, I am the best shot in the county. Plus it’s Griffin.”

“Hey, Ada,” Cass called from the other room.

“In the kitchen.”

Cass entered. “Hey, Ada. Glad you’re home.”

“Hi, Cass. Wasn’t planning on it,” Ada said. “Oh, this is—”

Cass extended her hand. “Lena Feeny. I recognized your face. Plus, your truck was towed to the shop and I was there.”

“Cass here is our town reporter,” Ada said. “Her father was the best around and she runs a tight second. She broke the sex scandal story.”

“Good for you,” Lena said. “Do you cook?”

“Yeah, are you hungry?” Cass asked. “I know Ada doesn’t really cook.”

“Exactly,” said Lena. “Did you know she has always wanted to open a bed and breakfast. But needs the help.”

“Oh, stop,” Ada said. “It’s a pipe dream.”

“You want to do that?” Cass asked. “I’ll help if you want help. That sounds fun. What else do I have to do?”

“Your job,” Ada said.

“Please.” Cass tossed out her hand. “Plus, Walt really doesn’t pay me since my inheritance.” She looked at Lena. “I inherited my grandfather’s Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes.”

“Someone really won that?” Lena asked. “I didn’t think anyone did.”

“My pap. Anyhow, Ada, I’m helping Marge out with understanding what happened with the accident last night.”

“Yeah, I heard you were working on that story.”

“I was talking to Kit…”

“The hot cop.”

Cass nodded. “He said you were trying to hunt but decided against it because the deer were sick.”

“Looked it to me,” said Ada. “I didn’t want to take a chance.”

“Take a look at this.” Cass pulled out her phone. “Kit gave us the dash cam footage.” She showed her the video. Lena joined in.

“Yep,” Ada said. “Look at the color. It’s gray.’

“It’s a zombie deer,” Lena said. “Look at the back leg.” She jumped when she watched the deer attack.

“Aggressive,” Ada said. “They weren’t that aggressive when I was up there, nor did they have that sore. Could be a different buck. But I don’t think so.”

“Well it’s not a zombie,” Cass said to Lena. “And that hind leg. Caused by trying to scratch an itch. But he’s tearing himself up.”

“Or…” Ada said. “Something is tearing into it. Like bacteria.”

“Flesh eating,” Lena said. “Have here been animal cases of that?”

Ada shook her head. “A while back a dog in Wyoming had necrotizing fasciitis. But it’s pretty rare. Something is foul here.”

Cass snapped her finger. “Foul. Oh! Eb says he has some flesh from the buck and said it stinks worse than anything he ever smelled. Feel like taking a walk down? Give it a whiff. See what you think?”

Ada shrugged. “Sure, why not. We have to check on her bus anyhow. We can go now. Ready, Lena?”

“Without a doubt. This is exciting,” said Lena. “I’m not sure I want to smell the rotting flesh, but this town sounds really interesting.”

“We’re boring. Zombie deer aside,” Cass said. “Nothing ever happens in Griffin.”

Gyles Farm, Saline County, Nebraska

Did he not wait long enough? Larry believed he knew and followed the instructions from the government about what to do after they sprayed. He waited the timeframe. Sure, the instructions stated that a small percentage of people experienced side effects, who would have known or thought Larry and his men would have hit the jackpot. They went out safely like they thought, waiting that hour as instructed. But almost immediately some of his men started getting sick. Headaches, nausea, burning skin. Larry thought maybe it was psychosomatic. That was until he went inside, started to wash up and noticed the irritation on his arm. An irritation that spread quickly. Were they out there too soon? Were they too close? After all they were in the thick of the dead bugs, the chemical still latent on them.

Within half an hour of washing, Larry didn’t have a headache, he didn’t have nausea, but his eyes and nose burned as if he were suffering from allergies on steroids.

Thinking some rest would do the trick, he kicked off his boots, cranked up the air conditioning, downed an iced tea, and took an antihistamine. He kicked back in his easy chair and passed out.

He woke up nearly screaming. The pain in his arms was unbearable. It wasn’t the burning sensation of a rash, it was a pain, a deep ache that slammed against his nerve endings, igniting them, making him feel like every bone in his arms was shattered.

He looked at the time and saw that it was still early enough to get to the urgent care in town. Without a doubt he was having some sort of severe allergic reaction. Surely, those doctors in that little place had some sort of anti-allergic reaction shot they could give him. Make it go away rather quickly. Larry was a strong man. Not much ever got him down. But the pain in his arms was kicking his butt.

It never even crossed his mind to go to a hospital until he was nearly in town. And the pain spread from his arms to his chest and to his gut. He couldn’t take a breath through his nose without feeling as if it were on fire, and he passed the town and went towards Crete, a town with a university hospital fifteen miles out. He would make it. But not before his legs shook out of control, and he lost the ability to move his hands. He drove his truck using his wrists. Three or four ambulances passed him on the way there; he figured there was an accident somewhere. He never expected what he saw when he pulled up. The small hospital was located just outside of town with plenty of space around it. But there truly was no space. Cars were just abandoned in front of the hospital. Lining up on the berm of the road and then the driveway in no particular order. Ambulance drivers could not get close. They were pushing gurneys through the cars strewn across the driveway. Larry had no choice but to abandon his truck. He wasn’t even sure he could open the door handle. He managed. The pain was too debilitating to even maneuver the handle.

He left his truck at the end of the driveway, in the grass, adding to the mess that was already there. Using his backside, he closed the door and staggered his way up the long driveway to the emergency entrance.

The emergency room was packed. Wall-to-wall people. Standing, sitting, taking a spot on the floor. All of them looking the same. Their arms, legs, faces marked with deep reddish-purple marks that were large and inflamed. Their bodies withered in pain. They trembled, moaned, cried for help. Some lay on the floor having fits of convulsions and some just lay on the floor not moving. Larry wasn’t alone. Not in his suffering. Whatever was going on in his town and nearby city was bigger than Larry imagined. He knew he had to get help, he had to wait. He needed to get relief. He worked his way inside, finding a spot. Promising himself at the moment he felt even a little bit better he would leave and wait it out at home. Little did Larry know he would never go home. His journey ended there.

Cass guessed it wasn’t what Walt expected to see when he walked outside his shop to talk to Lena.

Then again, no one in town was ever surprised at anything Ada did. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her while she examined the wreckage of Brad’s car.