Epidemic by J.P. Choquette

Author:J.P. Choquette [J.P. Choquette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.P. Choquette
Published: 2020-08-03T00:00:00+00:00

Burlington, Vermont

Trina Grunwald stood outside Pleasant Valley Cemetery, snorting inwardly at the name. The large lot, parked in the middle of the city was anything but pleasant. She walked through the open gate, so rusted it looked as though it hadn’t moved in years. She’d seen the yellow police tape from the road behind the cemetery, but there weren’t any cops around now.

The front section of the graveyard was clean enough. The stones were simple, most gravesites bare of flowers, though gaudy plastic ones dotted a few. A chipped sign read, “No plastic flowers. No pets. No loitering.” Beside it, someone’s dog had taken a crap. So much for authority.

Trina walked quickly along the gravel path. Just get this over with and get the hell outta here. Hiking her pack up higher on her back, she moved toward the back of the cemetery. This was the old part; stones were in various positions of falling over. They were smooth too, making it hard to read the old-fashioned language. Weeping willows framed the back portion of the cemetery, a perfect hiding spot she’d found a few years ago. Willows normally weren’t as lush and full of foliage as these. A hidden spring, somewhere near the root path of the trees fed them a large amount of water, which they loved. The reward was extra thick branches and hanging boughs so green and full that one could hide completely unseen beneath the foliage.

Sometimes she brought Little Jim here, though she’d forbade him to ever come by himself.

“It’s dangerous in there, Jimmy. Drug dealers and bad people hang out at Pleasant Valley. Don’t go there alone. Ever. Got it?”

He’d promised and she’d continued to bring him when it got too bad at home.

Trina swallowed hard, mouth dry. She reached the willow that she most often hid underneath and pulled the backpack from her shoulders. Unzipping it, she dug inside and pulled out the manila envelope. It was torn on one side, probably from the hasty way she’d shoved it in at the laundromat.

What was that? There was a scrawl of handwriting cut neatly in two by the tear. She hadn’t noticed it before. A ten-digit number and a first name. Eve something. Trina bent closer to look. That’s when she heard the voice.

“Hey,” it said. “What are you doing?”

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