I always had a nocturnal sleep pattern. Sun goes down, I’m up. Sun comes up? I rather be dead in a deep dark hole with a brick in my mouth--like a proper vampire, you know?
The army loved me for night shifts. My work liked me for the same reason. It’s hard to have alert people on the graveyard shifts. Most people need five Red Bulls and a shot in the ass. I felt the same way when the sun was up. Even in school before I enlisted.
But the rest of the world didn’t run on moonlight. So I found myself glaring out of my windshield at the front doors of the local supermarket. Squinting against the harsh, fresh, morning sunlight. Like I might strangle it with my bare hands.
Instead, I killed the engine of my pickup and closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath and pulling the visor down to shade my eyelids. Take a minor break and muster up some energy. There wasn’t a hurry, I only wanted to get this done before I went home for the two days I had off.
I jolted a bit when I heard an ambulance siren race past the main road next to the parking lot. Grumbling as I shoved myself more upright in my seat. Peering at the time on a phone I pulled half out of the chest pocket of my coat. I lost fifteen minutes. I felt more awake, though.
So I pulled my work cap off and tossed it to the seat beside me. Adding my utility belt, work key ring, and shuffled off uniform shirt after that. Looked into the visor mirror and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Giving my reflection a half offended stare. Cobalt on brown didn’t make the raccoon rings any less poppin’. I’d have to get to sleep at a half decent hour. And take some vitamin D.
Bumped the visor back up with a brief ‘aaa’ screech that rasped my throat and made me cough as I got out of the car. Patting pockets for my wallet and folded up paper list before I locked said vehicle up.
Inside time. Time for the inside.
Brad was right about the TP and things. Some necessities were scarce. Not apocalypse short, but stock wasn’t...a lot when I swung by those aisles. I made do with more expensive substitutes where I could. I hoped this didn’t continue or it was going to be a big ouch on my income in the future.
On my way to roll my cart to the soup shelves, there was an older woman pushing what had to be close to a full pallet of water bottles. Speaking in a loud, hard to ignore whisper, to her phone.
“I don’t think you get it, Hank. They’ve already stopped flights from Mexico. Whatever it is that they’re hiding in the hospitals? It’s big. We need to stock up. So give me your pin--” On she went. Walking briskly out of my earshot.
I sighed and tossed some, frankly, classy cans of tomato soup into my cart and kept rolling.
“So did China.” I mumbled under my breath. About that recent H1N1 scare. Suddenly I was glad I didn’t have a lot to buy. Most of my diet came out of the freezer of a can. Or out of the meat department.
When I got there, I realized I would have to make some stew. Most of the ground beef and chicken had vanished. Fine. A detour into vegetables and herbs it was.
I took everything up to the checkout line and groaned in my throat when I saw the line. I settled into one and put my head down on my forearms as I’d crossed them on the cart push bar.
Couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here.
Especially when the loud whisper lady pulled into line behind me. My only grace, or further torment, that she had moved onto arguing with her husband about laundry and the failing grades of their son.
News died down and people calmed down. Slipped under the radar like so much background noise about bombings in far off countries. I could imagine it to be like how you get used to bullets reporting off the sand and brick and hot earth after it goes on for days and weeks and years.
Tsunamis you never drown in, riots you only see as rushing masses on the screen, earthquakes you can’t comprehend, cancelled flights you’ll never be on, borders closed that you never intended to cross, and hospitals creaking under the pressure of illness that’d been packing them for months. What was some spoiled wheat when you came from the land of agricultural plenty? Nevermind that end of season harvest was recent.
And, anyway, I still had bills and to pay those I had to keep working. Natural disasters notwithstanding.
Thankfully, night shift usually meant I could relax. The current site I was working at was a warehouse facility. Took big trucks in and out all day, but shut down around the time I rolled in. Mostly I did patrols by car or foot. Since it was only what a proper northerner considers ‘chilly’ for my last patrol, I decided to walk.
All I was really looking for inside the warehouse was fires or leaks. Outside was more about checking out the parked trailers along the outer fence line. Making sure the plastic seals weren’t broken. That people weren’t climbing the fence to steal anything.
I honestly didn't expect any trouble. I heard more from the day shift about fist fights over boxes from the workers in the building than I did actual attempts at theft.
Hell, mostly I ran into lone coyotes. Or a racoon. They’re all kinda cute if you keep a distance. Sometimes I’d purposely only look at the stray rabbit from an eye corner and keep moving. They were just there for the choice, crisp, grass on this side of the fence.
Somewhere in the back, I found a hole in the fence line. Low to the ground and mostly under the fence where dirt had been dug up. Not super uncommon. Looked like an animal had dug it up. Another lone coyote lookin’ for one of those rabbits, probably. I sighed out a puff of condensed air and tucked my flashlight under my arm with the cone of light pointing at the breach.
Phone came out of my pocket and I took a flash lit photo. Put that away and took out a bit of scrap paper and a pen I kept in one of my coat pockets. Scribbling the time, 0349, and the look of the hole. I’d have to document it and let the supervisor know in the morning to have it checked out.
It also meant I’d be walking this every half hour instead of every couple hours. Thankfully, I only had three more to go.
I paid some extra attention to the trailers nearby. Checking their seals were intact and making sure the tops of the doors were adequately locked still. Scoped out the area and thought all looked well enough to move on.
Mind you, there was some unease. Might be a coyote around after all. Normally I wouldn’t think much of that. Alone, they’re not really keen to scrap with a human. Most didn’t desperately dig through a fence, either.
Thankfully, I was allowed a taser with this company so I kept it in hand in my pocket. I just couldn’t shake the feeling on the back of my neck. Cold and prickly and not from the bite in the air. Left over combat instinct or plain, embarrassing, fear of the dark mixed with primal fear of wild animals? I resolved to walk with a longer stride and dipped down the figurative hallway between two trailers. There was more light to see by coming off the warehouse at the other side as opposed to along the perimeter fence.
I nearly tripped when I came out. Ahead of me, in the dark place between trailers still in their docks, was something. Low and crouched. With two eyeballs that gave off a sheen of an amber glow. Like a coyote.
Mmm, great. Maybe it had rabies. In which case, a taser wasn’t going to do it.
I avoided shining a light on it to keep it from attacking. Instead I pulled at my radio and turned the volume down before speaking into it, quite and calm,
“Candice, you got a copy?” Relieved when that alone didn’t cause the animal to stir. Beyond a slight shift and a low rumble. A growl that sounded...pained? I didn’t get an inch closer. Rabies or not, injury was even more liable to launch at me with intent to maul if I wasn’t mindful.
“Go ahead.” She responded. Unaware of my predicament.
“We’re gunna need to call Paul and the non-emergency number for the cops, I guess?” I paused, but held the button to keep the line. “There’s a cranky, possibly rabid, coyote back he--shit!” I let the button go, my voice cracking on a high pitch, as the animal came screaming out of the dark across the pavement toward me.
By the way? Not an animal! It turned out to be bipedal! PERSON! A person was streaking toward me with a howl of rage I hadn’t heard since the desert. The only thing that kept me from getting bum rushed straight down into the ground was that time in the war. Muscle memory and understanding of how bodies work allowing me to shift into mindlessly diverting all that failing momentum into the ground under me instead. Face first with me holding an arm and pressing a knee between shoulder blades of the squirming ball of bizarre fury under me. Pinned down.
They kept hollering, but I spoke to them at an even pace despite the adrenaline threatening to make me rattle too fast with my words. “Hey! Are you okay? You can’t just hulk out in the middle of private property. I am going to have to call the cops if you don’t calm down.”
That didn’t seem to work any better than telling me not to eat a fifth slice of pizza on a Tuesday morning.
I mumbled a cuss as I worked on adjusting my hold to free up a hand enough to respond to Candice calling me over the radio with increasing concern.
“Dro? Dro, you copy?”
“Yeah, co--” I paused to let the latest howl come and go. “Copy! We’re going to need the police. It’s some person--” Growled back when the next long winded scream came. “Some person on drugs I think?”
“Copy, you need backup?”
“Nah, you can’t leave the guardhouse. Just...tell ‘em to hurry. They’re not--” I didn’t bother to take my finger off the button for the next roar. “--not real happy about all this.”
“Copy.”
I sighed and buckled down on holding them down without hurting them. Drugged out or not, this person didn’t deserve to get their ribs or wrist inadvertently broken. Or to choke if my knee got jostled out of place from all the wild writhing they were doing. I started trying to talk them down when they started whining instead of roaring.
“Sorrysorrysorry.” They sounded to be openly weeping. “Hurts, I’m sorry!” Mashing their own face into the ground where I couldn’t see them. I grimaced.
“It’s fine.” Drugs are wild. I tried to be understanding. Hard and worked up as the both of us were. Wasn’t my first run in with an intoxicated trespasser. Get out of your mind and you don’t know where you are and shit that’s a big fucking lady throwing me, around time to FIGHT. “It’s alright, hey, it’s okay. Police are comin’. With some doctors, I’m su--”
Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say, they kicked back up into doing their damndest to trash free. My muscles were starting to burn by the time I heard the sirens rolling in close enough to hear. I was running out of breath to deal with this. They couldn’t get through the gate and around back to me fucking fast enough as far as I was concerned.
The police officer that came out of his cruiser looked the sort of troubled that my colonel had in his eyes right before he was expecting us to get blown away by an IED any second. The EMTs that came out of the ambulance were dressed to deal with something infectious. Like...face shields, multilayered plastic white clothing, and were on the person under my knee in seconds with a large syringe.
No one said anything to me as my perp went limp by the time the plunger on the shot fully depressed. I awkwardly got up and stepped away as they gave me the impression of mopping up an undesirable pile of barf. Packing themselves and their charge away into the back of their ambulance on a stretcher board before they took off.
The police officer barely even thanked me for my help and told me to have a good rest of my day before he left right behind them only to overtake them. Flipping on their lights to escort the emergency vehicle he accompanied.
Leaving me in confused and stunned silence as I caught my breath.
What?
The cop didn’t even try to get a statement. Or my name. Or even my number to ask me my statement later. I wasn’t even sure how I was going to write my report up and not sound like I didn’t do my job right without that interaction with the officer.
My brows knotted as I leaned into a brisk walk back for the guardhouse.
The gym, Base Weights was in a basement. Owned by someone named Brad. Had simple and inexpensive equipment and only catered to a few people at a time. There were regulars and Brad spotted for anyone that was too shy to ask anyone else.
Like me.
He wasn’t judgmental. Wasn’t bubbly. But he played decent music you could pace yourself to easily. And he didn’t stare at anyone’s chest or anything in a weird way. He was nice enough. When he wasn’t being encouraging, he asked a lot of questions.
“Didja hear the news?” He asked while scrolling his phone with free hand, other hand under the bar on the bench press, but super invested in worrying about me as I did my reps. I didn’t go super heavy. I went for endurance and I had a while yet before I’d get tired.
“Nah.” I half grunted out on the end of pushing upward. Holding it there a second. “Not today, nah. They still talking about the riots in Argentina? Or mysterious new disease the super secret government is hiding from the public in super obvious hospitals?”
“Well...yeah.” Brad started intelligently. “But now they’re talking about people getting nervous and swiping up all the TP and ramen from the stores.”
I grimaced and hung up the weight sitting up to have some water from nearby bottle. “I don’t think TP and water is going to do much if you’re running a fever so high you’re getting violent.”
I was grumbly. Thinking about the fact I only had a couple rolls. Then again, I only shopped once a month or so. Crowds weren’t my favorite thing. Bad timing, though. I got my next pay on the twentieth of the month--tomorrow. Which was when I started getting low on things around the house. Nothing serious. Unless panicky people were going to make things scarce for a while.
“You know how people get. Snow falls and all the bread and milk vanishes. You’d think people would be more chill about winter in a city like Chicago. Guess, it’s not a snowstorm people are worried about.” Brad pulled me back out of my concerns.
“I guess not. Only happens every year. The snow--not the, you know, possible pandemic.” I brushed it off the same as everyone had been. Modern medicine made major disease far away and had us thinking that everything had a cure. A medieval and third world country problem. Not a heartland of America issue.
Hospitals were having a hard time, but surely they had it under control. It’d come and go like H1M-whatever.
“Yeah...yeah.” Brad said with an uncertain tinge of someone letting something go in conversation, but not in thought. He offered me a high five and I took it despite it being doofy. “Did great. Don’t forget to pay your dues next Friday and tomorrow we’re having yoga class--”
“Fucking, Brad--” I tried to interject while picking up my towel to rub sweat from my forehead and scalp since my hair was nearly skin short. It didn’t work. Brad merely grinned and kept going with enthusiasm.
“--and I know you think you’re tough butch gal, but I see the way you baby your back.” Brad did some hunching and holding of his lower back. Followed by a couple steps of an old lady hobbling away from me. Which, lucky for him, put him out of easy striking distance.
I huffed and balled up my towel, tossing it at him. “Get bent.”
Sometimes he was cute. Like a mischievous brother you wanted to murder, but never could.
Took damn long enough for the big fancy courts to declare same-sex marriage legal. Too damn long. But better late than never--or whatever people say when governments take too long to figure out simple shit like ‘civil rights’.
I tried not to scoff, but sometimes I am tired.
Feel less tired when I stop my walk back to my apartment with a slurpee in hand to watch some of the more brave people celebrate the ruling. Decide to sit with my paper on a city bench. Not at all hoping someone got uppity with a bigot attitude with me in earshot. Nah. I’m not that kinda person. Seems the right thing to do, though. As a reservist.
I didn’t go out of my way to stare. Instead, I took to reading that paper with my cup of blue icee on the bench out of the way. Thumbing through pages with half interest. I mostly took the paper to see about local gyms. My last gym turned out to be loaded with piggly macho guys that didn’t like that I had tits and could press more than them. Heaven forbid.
I ended up snagging on a small article about recalls on agricultural products coming out of South America. It was right under a Kia parts recall and next to a recall on some frozen lasagna entrée thing. Not sure why I thought it was curious. Maybe due to the recent talk on news programs about riots in some of the cities out that way over fears of another H1N1 sort of thing.
Didn’t spend long looking at it. Only so much you can take in about places not immediately in your area. Human brains aren’t made like that. Or maybe I was too far removed to invest.
Someone had posted an ad for their start up gym in the classifieds. I took out my phone and snapped a picture. I’d have to check that out tomorrow.
