Tales of the Derry Plague | Book 1 | LAST Anselmo, Ray (electric book reader .txt) 📖

in the Shepherd’s eyes. “I’ve still got the height, I’ve still got the reach, and I will not live in fear of you mangy critters.” Another swing as she took a second step forward. “So are you going to play nice, or –“

The Rott mix growled.

CLANG! She slammed the end of the bat on the concrete. “Enough of that, Drool Machine!” she told it at the top of her lungs. CLANG! “Anybody else got a complaint?”

Now the canines were beginning to retreat, less of a hunting pack than the collection of pets they’d been two weeks ago. They looked uncertainly at the crazed primate who’d seemed such an easy target a few minutes before.

“Then get! Lost!” she barked and took another step. “Get! LOST!”

Again the dogs backed up, the formation breaking apart.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRR!” she roared, and charged the Shepherd. Forget their claws and teeth – she was the alpha here!

The pack scattered at top speed. She chased the German Shepherd half a block until it disappeared into a hedge, gave a roar of triumph and stalked back to her house, dragging the bat along the pavement behind her to let the other dogs know she could keep busting them up all night. She went back inside, locked the door, turned off the flashlight …

… and she fell to her hands and knees, her legs no longer supporting her. What the heck was that? It was lunatic! She could’ve been torn apart just by the front three dogs and scattered all over town! And why would she act that way, raging like a T-Rex on acid at a bunch of household pets? She’d never done a thing like that before! What got into her?

She started to laugh hysterically, and couldn’t stop. All the built-up fear of the last … ten days? That was it?! … had metastasized into rage and driven her out into the night with a flashlight and a softball bat to do battle with the forces of canine annoyance. Yes, she’d won, but if anyone had been around to ask if she’d lost her dang mind, she wouldn’t have been able to determine the correct answer.

When she could finally get her voice under control, she rolled onto her back, abandoning the bat and dropping the flashlight. She wiped tears from her eyes, rubbed her nose and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, God … I guess I needed that,” she said while panting. “But I hope it doesn’t happen again. Next time might get me hurt.” Crazy that got in had to come out somehow … and everything had been crazy since she got up a week before Monday and couldn’t get anyone on the phone.

For an amount of time she didn’t keep track of, she lay on the tile in the foyer, alternately laughing and crying, letting loose the feelings she’d done her best to bottle so she could get things done. Well, most of it was done now, at least the initial long list of must-do-to-survive items. She was a little more free to feel without it too badly distracting her.

Once it was done, though, Kelly put the bat in the umbrella rack by the front door, the flash on a nearby table, went to the bathroom and changed her tampon again. She got to her room, took a lithium and an olanzapine – if that hadn’t been a manic episode, she was afraid to find out what it was! – and didn’t even bother with pajamas, just collapsed on the unmade mattress in her T-shirt and underwear. She was out like a light in a minute.

10

TRAFFIC

Kelly felt hungover when she awoke Thursday morning. She’d only gotten really drunk once in her life – senior year in college, and boy, was she glad her friends had kept an eye on her – but she’d always remember what it felt like. Had she had any alcohol last night? No. So what had …

“Ohhhh,” she groaned, and was thankful she didn’t have the traditional hangover symptoms of pounding headache and sensitivity to sound. She did have a headache, but it was the standard kind, a consistent dull pain. She could cope with that. The memories of what she did the previous evening, though, left her wondering if one actually could die of embarrassment. Whatever had possessed her …?

She double-checked her memories. Yes, she went out and challenged a pack of wild – well, wild-ish – dogs, acted like a crazy person, and in fact chased one a couple hundred feet while wielding a softball bat and a flashlight. And then she went back inside and had a little breakdown. Not her moment of glory. She was glad no one had seen her.

That triggered another little breakdown, a smaller one. No one had seen her because no one was there, and maybe no one would ever be there, because she might be the last person that could ever be there, surrounded by a ghost town filled with dogs that could attack her and who knew what else and oh crap was she doomed was there any hope for her to survive …

It took a while for this one to pass, as it was eminently logical both from the circumstances and from last night’s mood swings. She rode it out, let the tears come and go, until it was done. Then she dried her face on her pillowcase, sat up and started thinking in addition to feeling.

Item one: she had been under enormous stress, due to the rest of Sayler Beach and everyplace else close by being wiped out by some disease. Item two: she’d also been frantically busy the last ten days, disposing of all the bodies in town and prepping food and adjusting to life without electricity or indoor plumbing. Item three: the workload had forced her to set her emotions aside, which she did for as long as