Dark shapes moving under me.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

[Mid-afternoon of Wednesday, January 13 (day 227)]
[Sheriff's Office]

--pardon my language but what in the name of Christ the Carpenter on his frigging nail-studded cross is happening to my goddamn town?!

Out this morning and something came through the whole damn town and I felt things rip loose, a split in every other piece of straw. Everything looking the same, but there's a great gaping hole through the heart of it all. And then I started to hear the crying and the shocked questions and there's that awful feelin' in the air like a storm comin' on...

non ministrari sed ministrare

I don't know my name. Someone called me Deputy Hollow an' okay, I'm goin' with that. He was local, I know that. So I listened ta him an' the woman he was fightin' with, and told 'em they were brother an' sister. I know they were, an' when they asked me if I was sure I said yeah, I remembered.

That was an outright lie. I hate lyin'.

So I told'm listen, this was their house they were fighting in (true), and things were gonna be okay (God please don't let that have bin a lie). Somethin' happened, people got sick or somethin', it doesn't seem ta be gettin' worse but can they please stay calm and stay inside if they can't do anythin' ta help? They pulled themselves together a bit, said they'd stay close ta home but they'd at least go see their neighbours, see if there was anything ta do.

est deus in nobis

That kept happenin'. Couldn't always tell someone where they were meant ta be stayin', or how they knew whoever they'd run into, if they even did. Gave a few people directions ta the Office, an' told them ta go there an' wait, ta tell people they ran into they could go there. One a' them had the idea ta go by the Post Office, see if they had a list of names ta go with addresses, an' I swear I coulda kissed her. Got one person home that way when I ended up makin' it back, guess we can maybe get a few more back that way today.

Wish there was a town hall. I'm sure there's paperwork somewhere, somethin' with names an' taxes an' maybe even something like a school record. But I got no idea of where ta even start lookin'.

The woman had the idea about the Post Office, she's bin dealin' with the few kids as came in (Miss Kaeli, you have no idea how goddamned grateful I am you told 'em they can go to you or the library with questions and to the police if something is wrong, an' I hope I have a chance ta tell you that), an' makin' coffee. I don't know that anyone needs coffee this late in the day, but it seems ta calm her some, an' it doesn't hurt.

An' then a lady comes in an' there's blood on her face, an' she starts tellin' me that there was an angel in the church, an' she can't find her daughters, an' it's all mixed up together. She ain't crying-- well, she ain't unhappy, at least. An' I'm tryna get her ta tell me what happened in the church an' anything she can remember about her daughters an' it's kinda all goin' in circles but...

God help me. I don't know what else ta do.

[Open]
[Closed]

Comments

[john-thiess.livejournal.com]

The man's got t'be the tallest I ever saw, and he's talkin' with some woman who looks in a bad way, but he sees us over her shoulder.

"Um, hi Mister. Ma'am. I just got t'ask - d'either 'a you recognize either 'v us?"

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

Oh lord.

"I don't," I say, and then take another look, "I mean, I know you're local, an' you--" to the woman standing with him-- "you're not-- not so much, but I'm afraid I don't know either a' you past that. Pretty sure you're not related, though." Look to the woman I'm talking to, and she shakes her head, but then looks at the boy again.

"I think... maybe Thiess or White?" she says carefully. "I'm not too sure, but..." She trails off again.

"Thank you, ma'am," I say quietly, touchin' her on the arm. "Listen, you said nearly no-one was there when you left the church..." an' she nods. Okay. Look back to the young man an' the woman. "You c'n come in," I say hesitantly, "though I'm not sure we can help... either of you at home when this happened?"

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Kid asks if'n I might be a witch. Parta me thinks'at's a strange thin' t'say...butta bigger parta me thinks'at's onna th'first thing'e's said't makes sense. A witch knows herbs, right? A witch works with weird stuff't comes outta the woods. A witch'd know'at'is need's t'be chopped up'n boiled so many times durin' th'night'a th'full moon. A witch. Huh.

"Maybe we ought t'ask in here," th'kid said, "They'd at least know who we are." Consid'rin' th'state'a th'town azza whole, 'm thinkin'at's one helluva jump t'one helluva conclusion. But I also ain't got no better ideas, so we go up t'onna th'few folk've seen so far't's taller'n me, an' th'kid says, "Um, hi Mister. Ma'am. I just got t'ask - d'either 'a you recognize either 'v us?"

Great. Good intro. Th'tall man frowns, looks't us both, an' says somethin' weird, "I don't. I mean, I know you're local, an' you--you're not-- not so much, but I'm afraid I don't know either a' you past that. Pretty sure you're not related, though."

How's'e know which ovvus's local 'n which ovvus ain't? Seems a weird way t'go 'bout thin's. Th'women wittim says't th'kid's name might be Thiess 'r White. Well, 'at's somethin'. 'm hopin' she'll say somethin' 'bout me, but she don't. Th'tall man thanks'er an' turns back t'us, "You c'n come in, though I'm not sure we can help... either of you at home when this happened?"

I shake m'head, "We wuz both out'n th'woods, gath'rin' herbs." I says's we walk inta th'office. "Walked back inta town t'gether when we re'lized we was in th'same boat. Izzis goin' on all over town?" C'n hazard a guess, but confirmation's nice.

[john-thiess.livejournal.com]

"I don't," he says, looking at us. He's got a deputy's star pinned on his shirt, and he smells like dry straw which ain't strange, and candle wax which is sort 'a weird. "I mean, I know you're local, an' you--" he says, lookin' t'the woman -- "you're not-- not so much, but I'm afraid I don't know either a' you past that. Pretty sure you're not related, though."

I feel sort 'a sad fer that, 'cause it'd give me someone t'share this with. At least I'm a local, so there's bound t'be folks about as know me, but 'f she ain't exactly local than how come we're out doin' the same thing? Unless... no, who goes out t'deliver a cake and comes back with a bag 'v herbs?

The woman with the deputy takes a look at me. "I think... maybe Thiess or White? I'm not too sure, but..." No, that's somethin'. "Thanks ma'am," I say t'her. Thiess or White. It gives me somethin' t'start with.

"You c'n come in, though I'm not sure we can help... either of you at home when this happened?"

The tall woman steps up 'n shakes her head. "We wuz both out'n th'woods, gath'rin' herbs. Walked back inta town t'gether when we re'lized we was in th'same boat. Izzis goin' on all over town?"

There's somethin' in the air that pulls at me. A scent 'a old death. There's bin blood spilled in here fer sure, but there's somethin' different too. "Are you storin' a body in here?" I ask 'afore I realize it ain't a good question t'ask. I blush. "Um. Never mind," I say quick.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"We wuz both out'n th'woods, gath'rin' herbs." the tall woman says. Damn cold weather for it, but guess it can be done.

"You know what for?" I say, holdin' the door for them. "I know we've got an Apothecary in town. An' I guess in winter people'd buy there unless they needed somethin' special or were tryna restock the place." Wave to a coupla chairs. "Ah, miss-- I'm sorry, I can't do introductions-- miss has bin makin' coffee, either of you care for a cup?"

"Walked back inta town t'gether when we re'lized we was in th'same boat," an' thank Izzis goin' on all over town?"

"Yes'm," I say. "Think it started late mornin', no later than noon. Hard ta be sure, though." Run one hand over my face. "Don't guess it happens often, since if it did maybe people'd start carryin' their names 'round after the first coupla times. Speakin' of..." Look to the young woman. "Ah, miss? Can you-- is there a Thiess or a White family on the post office list?"

Kid's looking 'round and then looks at me and "Are you storin' a body in here?"

Oh Christ. Are we? Barely notice the kid stuttering an apology, an' I'm tryna remember, looking 'round.

"No," I say kinda unsteady, an' then "No, nothin' like that. I think-- we had someone die a while back, we kept the body here for a bit until-- people could look at him." We would do that if no-one knew him, wouldn't we? Yeah, I'm pretty sure.

"There's no Thiess," the woman says, "but there's a Mr. White at the Cockaigne bakery."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"You know what for?" Th'tall fella asks. "I know we've got an Apothecary in town. An' I guess in winter people'd buy there unless they needed somethin' special or were tryna restock the place."

"I know what a lot ovvem're used for," I says, shruggin's we walk in, "But dunno what I wuz after specif'c'lly."

'e asks if'n we want coffee, an'I nod. Coffee sounds real bloody good. An' when I ask if'n'is's happ'nin' ev'rywhere 'e nods, "Yes'm. Think it started late mornin', no later than noon. Hard ta be sure, though. Don't guess it happens often, since if it did maybe people'd start carryin' their names 'round after the first coupla times. Speakin' of...Ah, miss? Can you-- is there a Thiess or a White family on the post office list?"

There we go, might find th'kid, if'n nothin' else. Now'at we's inside, an' warmin' up, I strip off m'gloves. Takes a minute ferrit t'reg'ster, but'en I stare't m'hands. Bloody fuckin'ell, wha'd I do t'em? Backs'n palms' striped wit' scars, 'n c'n see callouses on m'fingertips. Looks like'ey got put through a damn thresher. But all th'wounds're old scars, so guess whatever't wuz happened a long damn time ago. Jes' wish I could bloody remember what't wuz.

Meantime, kid's still sniffin' thin's out...asks if'n'ere's a body in'ere somewhere. Sets th'tall fella right on edge, "No. No, nothin' like that. I think-- we had someone die a while back, we kept the body here for a bit until-- people could look at him."

An' th'kid c'n still sniff'at out? 'ere's somethin' weird 'bout'at boy'n smells, 'at much's fer sure. But'en th'woman pipes up'n says'ere's a White't works th'bak'ry.

"Well, 'at fits wit' what we found," I nod, "boy's gotta d'liv'ry slip from th'bak'ry innis pocket. Looks like'e might'a been runnin' errands for'em. Mebbe yer fam'ly duz work'ere after all." I say t'th'boy.

[john-thiess.livejournal.com]

The deputy offers some coffee and I add my nod t'the tall woman's. "Thanks Mister," I say as we gather 'round. I glance over as the deputy hands out cups and see her hands. I look away quick but feel bad 'cause they're rougher than a farmer's like they got cut up real bad a few times. You see stuff like that a fair bit 'cause we ain't got doctors like their used t'be, but it ain't polite t'stare either.

"No," he answer me, lookin' close and a bit worried, "no, nothin' like that. I think-- we had someone die a while back, we kept the body here for a bit until-- people could look at him." He dunt sound so sure but I guess he's probably lost somethin' too, same as everyone else. He's handlin' it real well though.

"There's no Thiess," says the other woman, and I think I know her, "but there's a Mr. White at the Cockaigne bakery." Huh. How about that?

The tall woman nods. "Mebbe yer fam'ly duz work'ere after all."

"White," I say, tryin' it out. "Could be. I guess I'd best check over there, and then see 'f there's a record 'a birth 'r somethin', 'r 'f Mr. White knows me at all."

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

Woman's staring at her hands, and guess whatever she does it sure as hell don't involve laying about. But she pulls herself 'way from them when the kid's name gets suggested. "Well, 'at fits wit' what we found, boy's gotta d'liv'ry slip from th'bak'ry innis pocket. Looks like'e might'a been runnin' errands for'em."

"Makes sense," I say, slightly relieved. "How 'bout you, ma'am? Were you carrying anything?"

I guess I'd best check over there," maybe-White says, "and then see 'f there's a record 'a birth 'r somethin', 'r 'f Mr. White knows me at all."

"I guess," I say, nodding. "You know where it is, just down Main...?" Hesitate a second an' then "Er--why'd you ask about a body?"

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"Makes sense. How 'bout you, ma'am? Were you carrying anything?" Th'tall fella asks me.

Shake m'head, "Jes' a knife anna bag fulla herbs," 'n other thin's. "Some cash anna pack'a cigs. Nothin' t'tell me who I am."

Pretty much d'cided'at th'boy'll head fer th'bak'ry, which seems like a solid plan t'me. Meantime, 'm cur'ous 'bout somethin'. Tall man asks why th'boy asked 'bout a body. I ask him, "Wha'd you mean when y'said I wuzn't local?"

[john-thiess.livejournal.com]

"You know where it is, just down Main...?" I nod. "Yeah, I was sort 'a headin' down that way when we stopped here. You can smell the bakin' from a mile off."

He looks at me fer a sec. "Er--why'd you ask about a body?" I roll my shoulders uncomfortably. "Um. Well, I mean this place smells kind 'a bloody, 'specially the table, but I figure that ain't too strange fer here. But there's older death, like a cow hangin' in a cold room. Not rottin', really, but old."

I shake my head and start t'leave as the tall woman picks up askin'. I ain't sure I ought t'say so much - but maybe it ain't that strange?

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"Jes' a knife anna bag fulla herbs," she says. "Some cash anna pack'a cigs. Nothin' t'tell me who I am."

"Guess you must have a place 'round here, though," I say, thinking. No keys means she didn't lock up, so I guess either she doesn't have a lock or she felt safe not worrying 'bout that. Which is kinda weird for someone who ain't local... "The cigarettes, they rolled or did you buy 'em?" I shrug kinda awkward. "I mean, most smokers who are around for a bit would visit the General Store pretty regular. It was closed up when I went by, but..."

Kid's answering the question about the body. "Um. Well, I mean this place smells kind 'a bloody, 'specially the table, but I figure that ain't too strange fer here," and I look down at the desk and blink back up at him and, "But there's older death, like a cow hangin' in a cold room. Not rottin', really, but old."

...right.

"I see," I say, 'cause I can't think of anything else to say. Sniff and I can't smell anything, but I guess I'm gonna wanna look at old incident reports before I tell the kid he's cracked, but... What the hell? "Ah. Thank you for mentionin'," is what I finally settle on.

"Wha'd you mean when y'said I wuzn't local?" the tall woman says, and I look back t'her.

I lower my voice a bit, 'cause the woman who's writing out what happened at the church and talkin' to the one who's bin makin' coffee's still in the room. "You don't live in town." I shrug. "Maybe I remember you from before this happened--" but she looks pretty sharp, so I add-- "but I don't think that's it. I'm just-- I'm sure."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"Guess you must have a place 'round here, though," says th'tall fella, an' yeah, managed t'figure'at much out on m'own. "The cigarettes, they rolled or did you buy 'em? I mean, most smokers who are around for a bit would visit the General Store pretty regular. It was closed up when I went by, but..."

"Rolled," I says, noddin'. See what'e's gettin'at. "Def'nitely handmade. Wouldn't be s'prised if'n I made'em m'self." Noticin' too't I gotta diff'rent accent from ev'rybody innis town too. Could be't'at's all'e meant when'e said I wuzn't local.

But when I ask, 'e says, "You don't live in town. Maybe I remember you from before this happened--but I don't think that's it. I'm just-- I'm sure."

Mull'at over ferra bit. Fin'lly nod, "Okay. What 'bout th'carn'val? Passed'at on th'way in. Think mebbe I come from'ere?" Sounds's good a poss'bil'ty as anythin' right now.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"Rolled. Def'nitely handmade," she says, catchin' on. "Wouldn't be s'prised if'n I made'em m'self." Right. Means she probably ain't bin ta the General Store regular, but--

"What 'bout th'carn'val? Passed'at on th'way in. Think mebbe I come from'ere?"

Goddamn but this is the second time I've bin left flat-footed in three minutes.

"...carnival?" I say blankly, and then "ah--" Catch myself before I swear out loud, but shit. "Yeah, that'd fit. Not so much local," I echo myself, "but-- hell." Oh damn. Wince a bit apologetically at that an' go on.

"Er, pardon me, ma'am. I mean, with the weather the way it is now-- you saw it, you think it's fair ta say they'd've had ta've been here for at least a coupla months? 'cause yeah, that might be it." An'... dammit. "Where was it, 'xactly? An' 'bout how many people, 'd you guess?"

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Th'boy's slipped out, 'm guessin' t'hit th'bak'ry. Prob'ly th'smartest thin'e c'n do, an'I wish'im luck. Meantime I seem to've caught th'tall man off guard. "...carnival?...ah--Yeah, that'd fit. Not so much local, but-- hell."

"Y'di'n't know't wuzzere?" Well, t'be fair I wouldn'a known it wuzzer if'n I hadn't passed it, so I guess'at ain't too 'sprisin'.

"Er, pardon me, ma'am. I mean, with the weather the way it is now-- you saw it, you think it's fair ta say they'd've had ta've been here for at least a coupla months? 'cause yeah, that might be it. Where was it, 'xactly? An' 'bout how many people, 'd you guess?"

"Passed't on th'way inta town," I says, "other side'a th'bridge. An'I di'n't really take a close look. Wondered what'ey wuz doin'ere 'is time'a year, but I di'n't see how many people 'r how long'ey'd been set up." Shake m'head, "though th'only reason I c'n see ferrem t'stay is if'n'ey got set up'n th'summer an' couldn't leave." Dunno why 'at'd be, but'ere't is.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

Asks if I knew it was there an' I shake my head. Kinda sure about it now, but... dammit. Wonder if I'm missin' anything else.

"Passed't on th'way inta town," she says when I ask 'bout the carnival, "other side'a th'bridge." Right. Close enough ta walk inta town, and I guess I shold go take a look. Even if they aren't in town, people might be out there, mighta come in from there. "Though th'only reason I c'n see ferrem t'stay is if'n'ey got set up'n th'summer an' couldn't leave."

"Can't 'magine why they wouldn't be able ta leave," I say, "but yeah, makes sense." Lord, they'd have to have bin here since fall at the latest... can't be doing well. "Hope they're okay," I say careful. "Uhm, ma'am, if you decide t'head back, I c'n head along with ya. Feel kinda bad about not checkin' on the place."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"Can't 'magine why they wouldn't be able ta leave," Tall man says, kind sighin', "but yeah, makes sense. Hope they're okay. Uhm, ma'am, if you decide t'head back, I c'n head along with ya. Feel kinda bad about not checkin' on the place."

I look outside 'n heave a sigh'a m'own. We's runnin' on evenin' now, an' th'dark comes on early'is time'a year. "Reckon I might hold off 'til tomorrow," I says. Don't much feel like goin' off t'someplace I don't know in th'dark, even if'n't's where I live. There's'n inn here, right?" Seem t'remember passin' one. Think I got 'nough money'n m'pocket ferra room. "Reckon a good night's sleep might do me some good." Sure's hell can't do me no ill, attis point.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"Reckon I might hold off 'til tomorrow," she says, sighin'. "There's'n inn here, right?"

"The Whitechapel," I say, nodding. "Just down Silk Road by the bridge over the river, it'll be on your left. Er... If you don't mind waitin' while I look in on the church, I c'n walk you down that way. That way if it's full up, c'n point you t'wards the Abbey. Think they'd be able t'spare a room." 'cause it is gettin' a bit dark an' I suppose that Wednesdays are mostly kinda quiet nights, but everyone's a bit on edge an' I'd feel bad 'bout lettin' her walk out alone.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"The Whitechapel. Just down Silk Road by the bridge over the river, it'll be on your left. Er... If you don't mind waitin' while I look in on the church, I c'n walk you down that way. That way if it's full up, c'n point you t'wards the Abbey. Think they'd be able t'spare a room."

Think 'bout tellin'im I c'n take care'a m'own damn self, but really, I seen'ose crowds out'ere. Wouldn't take much ferra crowd like'at t'turn ugly, 'm thinkin', an'I still ain't sure where'm goin'. So I says, "Be 'bliged," an'I light up 'nother cig. Gonna be one helluva long night, 'm thinkin'.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

Says her thanks an' lights up, an' I manage not ta flinch. Think about sayin' somethin' 'bout that but I don't. Never really liked havin' embers around, but I guess it's like the coffee. Seems ta help, and people need that right 'bout now.

Offer her a quick smile and touch my hand t'my head--damn cat's curled up and gone ta sleep in my hat 'gain--and head out. Sooner I check on the church, sooner can find her someplace ta stay, even if it ain't home.