With a vague memory of the many police procedural series trideos she used to watch with her father, she knew the crime scene should remain undisturbed until the authorities arrived. She rushed to the barn and got a tarp to cover the body with and another for poor Piers’s corpse.
She climbed into the ground truck and reversed, heading down the long driveway. She knew she was in shock so she made herself drive extra carefully all the way into town to the police station. There was a lot of activity going on but she found a parking space and lined the truck up carefully between the markers, as if this might erase some of her guilt over killing a man. Taking a deep breath, she strode into the lobby of the station and stopped on the threshold, astonished at the hustle and bustle. People were coming and going and talking in hushed voices, everyone was armed and the air of tension in the room was so thick she could hardly breathe. She fought her way to the reception desk, finding Devora Sims on duty.
“I need to see Sheriff Davis right away,” she said. “I’m here to report a murder. Well a self defense killing. I have to turn myself in.”
Devora stared at her for a minute. “Is this a joke?”
“What? No, it just happened, out at the ranch.” Tamsyn was confused by Devora’s attitude.
Sheriff Davis walked in from the parking lot and Tamsyn darted to him, grabbing him by the arm. “I need to talk to you—I’m turning myself in for murder.”
The sheriff looked her up and down and his expression softened. “It can’t be as bad as all that, honey.”
“I killed Rasty, about an hour ago. And I’m pretty sure he killed Piers,” she said brokenly.
“He sick? He turned?” the sheriff asked.
“I—I guess he must have. I didn’t know he was even sick but Clemt did scratch him when we were bringing him in a few days ago. I’m going to plead self defense but I know you have to lock me up.”
She saw pity in the sheriff’s eyes. He took her by the elbow but instead of conducting her to the back to be booked, he drew her toward the hallway to his office. “Let’s talk,” he said.
“Sheriff, we ain’t got time for this,” Devora yelled across the room. “Jonny Fafield wants all available men out to the south road barricade.”
“Five minutes isn’t going to make a difference now,” the sheriff said in a harsh tone.
When they entered his office, he shut the door, slung his hat onto a hook by the door and pointed to a chair beside the desk. “You act like you’re on your last legs, have a seat.”
She sank into the comfortable chair and watched in disbelief as he went to the cabinet, took out a bottle of expensive feelgood and two glasses and moved to the desk to pour them each a healthy amount of the amber liquid. He offered her one of the glasses. “You need this, trust me.”
Tamsyn took it and clinked glasses with him as he raised his to her, then drank. She wasn’t much for feelgoods normally but the man was right, she needed some liquid courage about now. She was on her last nerve. The drink gave her a pleasant burn all the way down and warmed her from the inside.
The sheriff sat heavily in his big chair and finished his drink, pouring another. “I ain’t gonna be charging you with a crime,” he said. “Once the infected turn they ain’t human anymore. They’re a vicious predator like any other and there’s no choice but to kill them before they kill us. You did right. I’m proud of you and I’m glad you survived.”
“But—”
“Tamsyn, honey, maybe because you don’t live here in town I got a feeling you’re not keeping up with current events.” He rotated the glass in his hand, studying the way the light glinted off the feelgood. “Or maybe you’re in denial.” He fixed her with a flat stare and she didn’t argue with his accusation. ”Either way, the world has changed while you weren’t looking and you’ve got to get up to speed quick or die. Humanity is fighting for its life here on Randal Four right now and I’m honestly not sure we’re going to win.”
She took a bigger swallow of the feelgood. ”What should I do?”
“My advice is get in your truck and head for your ranch. You’re isolated out there but I’m assuming you’re well stocked for the long haul. I doubt there’s anything out there to lure the infected so you should be safe enough. Maybe a stray or two will wander in—we don’t know enough yet about how they behave although we’re damn sure learning. You kill any that show up and don’t think twice about it, even if they’ve got faces you used to know.”
He picked up a pen and scribbled something on a pad of paper, tearing the sheet off and passing it across the polished desk to her. “This is the government frequency we’re using now to keep updated here in town. You can listen in, use it to call me if things get rough out there, not that there’s much we can do.” He smiled but it was an empty gesture, the practiced expression of a man who’d run for office more than once. “Sorry to inform you I won’t be sending out a team to investigate your crime scene. Cleaning the mess up and burying the deceased is all on you. I got no one left to send and we’re all busy here in Rosewater, defending the town.”
“What about those military guys? The ones at the hospital? Can’t they help?” she asked.
“They up and left one morning, not a word to me or the mayor. Don’t know if they had orders or if they decided on their own it was time to head home and protect their loved ones.” He shrugged. “I don’t blame them, either way.”
Someone pounded on the door. “Chief, that new refugee group is getting ugly. Jonny wants to know where the seven hells you are.”
“Duty calls.” The sheriff drained his glass and set it on the desk. “You take care, Tamsyn. Try to stay safe.”
He walked to the hook on the wall, retrieved his hat and left the office.
Tamsyn stared at the slip of paper he’d given her and tucked it into her pocket. She finished her feelgood and left the office as well. The lobby was much less crowded and Devora glared at her as she made her way to the door. She paused on the steps outside. The parking lot was empty now except for her truck and she heard the faint sound of blasters and projectile guns going off from the east side of town. Slowly descending the marble stairs, she took a good look at her surroundings. The streets were littered with trash, the store windows were either boarded up or broken and there was no one else in sight. With a shiver she rushed to her truck and climbed in, initiating the engine with shaking fingers and roared out of Rosewater at top speed. As she drove through the small subdivisions she noticed trash piling up at the street, houses with broken windows and gaping doors. Some had big red X’s on the door. A few seemed occupied, but the windows were boarded up and not much light peeked through. She had the feeling of being watched.
The drive to the ranch had never been so frustrating, taking too long for her current mood and she was eerily conscious of how utterly empty the landscape was. Ordinarily the desolate nature of the terrain didn’t bother her but now her nerves were on edge. The feelgood had worn off and she thought she might open her father’s cache of liquor and have more before she tackled burying the two dead men.
It was nearly dark by the time she arrived at the ranch house, having locked all the gates behind her, for all the good it would do. Did force fences deter the infected?
