Wake Up Dead - an Undead Anthology (5 page)

“I used to be mad at you. This date is the best and worst day of my life. Sydney was born, but you died. I know you were protecting us, but it still hurts.”

Dana looked around at other mourners. Many people came here on this day; thousands of lives lost to the virus.

“I miss you, and think of you all the time.”

Standing up Dana cleared up some debris from the top of the gravestone, leaving her hand on it for a moment longer. With the tears at a minimum, she spoke one last time.

“Love you, see you next year.”

EUTHANASIA

Chantal Boudreau

When Skye stepped out of her front door early that morning, she was met by the irritated gaze of her next-door neighbour. Skye knew what that was all about. She had confronted Mrs. Blanchford’s eldest son the night before when she had caught him taking pot-shots at raccoons with his BB gun in the backyard, and the older woman was not happy about that.

That was one of the problems with living in a subdivision – shared backyards. Skye often found herself at odds with her neighbours over the presence of her own animals. They objected to the fact that she kept as many as she did; four cats, two dogs, a rabbit and a snake, not to mention the occasional creature that she would foster for Strays to Stay, the no-kill shelter where she worked. Well, “worked” was an understatement. Skye was obsessed with the shelter’s cause and she was prone to go much farther than the regular demands of her job. She nurtured their charges in every way and championed their cause, but it was all done out of love. She could not bear to see an animal homeless or suffering. That was why she had lit into the neighbour’s son, concerned that he would do real harm to the raccoons.

“He was just trying to scare them off, Ms. Henshaw. Those nasty things were into the garbage and spreading their filth. It’s not safe to have them scavenging in the backyard. Some of them carry rabies you know. Besides, it wasn’t as if Shaun were shooting at them with real bullets,” the shrewish woman said, somewhat shrilly.

Skye shook her head and sighed.

“Those creatures have as much of a right to exist here and attempt to survive as we do. The pellets may not kill the raccoons the way that a bullet would, but it’s still cruel. He could have put one of their eyes out, or embedded a pellet under their skin, causing infection and slow death. If he wanted to chase them off, all he needed to do was make a lot of noise and shine some light wherever they were. They would’ve scattered.”

Mrs. Blanchford scowled.

“I somehow doubt a little light would’ve done any good. Those little monsters don’t scare easy; they’re brazen. And as for noise, it was after eleven and the Schusters would have already put their little ones to bed. I swear, Ms. Henshaw, that you care more about those wretched animals than the people who live around you,” she sniped, and with that, she turned on her heel and stomped back into her house.

“Maybe that’s because the wretched animals deserve it,” Skye mumbled, pushing her frizzy strawberry blond hair out of her face.

None of the inhabitants in the neighbourhood were without their flaws. Mrs. Blanchford was a gossip who had her nose in everyone’s business. The Schusters were the negligent type who never sorted the compost or recycling out of their garbage and let their children run amuck. Skye could name a point of contention for everyone who lived in the near hereabouts, and she was sure that they all took issue with her as well.

Muttering unhappy thoughts under her breath, she continued on her path to her car. She was the only one in a five block radius who owned a compact hybrid, and she had been forced to make several personal sacrifices because of the upfront costs involved. Of course, the majority of her neighbours owned minivans or SUVs – horrible wasteful gas-guzzlers. Skye never heard the end of complaints about the rising price of gas. Serves them right, she would think, for their destructive status-based indulgences.

As she opened the car door, Skye glanced up at the sky overhead. Not a cloud in sight, and she was running low on sunscreen. She had light hair, pale blue eyes and the fair skin that burned and freckled easily to match. Summer was rapidly approaching, and she would have to protect that skin, or pay the price. It would mean a trip to the drugstore at some point during the day.

She slid behind the steering wheel and dropped her woven-hemp purse on the passenger seat beside her. Before pulling out of her driveway, she turned on the radio to listen to the morning news. The announcer was in mid-story.

“...This is the third body found in Capstick Park in as many months. Each are believed to have been stored elsewhere before dumping, because of their desiccated appearance. Forensic experts suggest that it must have been somewhere hot and dry to result in that level of dehydration. The current victim has been identified as Marguerite Crawley, known to her friends as ‘Mags’. Police have confirmed that she did have a record for solicitation, similar to the first two victims, and authorities are concerned that the city may have a serial killer to contend with...”

That last statement in the news made Skye’s mind drift away from the sounds coming from the radio, as she happened to pass the Green Street Animal Clinic.

“Now that,” she thought, “Is an example of a where you would find a serial killer.”

The clinic was a twenty-four hour affair, the only veterinarian’s office in the city offering emergency services during off hours. That, Skye believed, was the only reason she did not lose it and torch the place. There was some real value presented by the clinic in that aspect and even she had been forced to rely on their night-time assistance for one of her pets in the past. Her main fracas with the facility, however, had nothing to do with their regular care and all to do with the murderous Dr. Taurian.

Because there were often times with little activity during the middle of the night, the head vet on staff, a Dr. Odin Taurian, offered euthanasia free of charge to the city run shelter, a monstrous organization who slaughtered strays by the hundreds every year. Since they could avail themselves of his services on a regular basis, the city shelter had cut back on the wait period for the animals it housed. When Skye had originally started working at Strays to Stay, there was a six month amnesty period for animals at the public pound, partially because they lacked the funding required, the availability of someone qualified to euthanize the animals and a means of appropriately disposing the bodies. It meant that the animals were a little over-crowded and the large shelter was often in jeopardy of depleting its food stores for the creatures it housed, but at least they were alive.

Enter Dr. Taurian into the picture, and suddenly the period of amnesty shrank from six months to four. Not only was he a capable professional who offered to do the dirty work for free, he agreed to dispose of the corpses in the clinic crematorium, also without charge. The thought irked Skye. The man riled her even more.

She had only had the misfortune of meeting him once, but that was once more than she considered acceptable. She had been in the process of saving her oldest cat, Ozymandeus, from sure death at that point. She had rescued him from the city pound just in the nick of time. Poor Ozzy never would have had a hope of being adopted, had Skye not come along. He was a scrawny old disinterested tom, with balding patches in his gray fur, a weepy eye and a wheezy meow that was painful to hear. The average person wanted a kitten, or at least a cat who was cute, or loving, or playful. Ozzy liked to lie around all day, hacking up the occasional fur ball and peeing in the corner. He did not have the charm or presence to win over a potential master. All he could count on was possibly a sympathy vote.

He found the sense of pity that he had needed for his salvation in Skye, and she had taken him in, adding him to her menagerie – much to her neighbours’ disgust. Three days after she had first brought him home, his little wheeze had worsened into major breathing problems. Skye awoke to him gasping and rattling, and had rushed him over to the Green St. Clinic.

Skye had been one of only two people waiting and the clinic saw patients primarily on the basis of severity, as opposed to first come, first serve. Dr. Taurian had emerged from his office and after gauging the urgency of the ailing before him, he had escorted Skye and Ozzy into the examination area. Skye was hoping that she would never have to repeat that situation, under any circumstances.

As Skye turned into the worst of rush hour traffic, she considered the doctor with distaste. He had moved to the city a few months ago, in response to the clinic’s search for a veterinarian willing to take on the night shift. He was a handsome broad-shouldered man, with a Scandinavian look to him, pale skin and blond hair. His eyes were surprisingly dark, in comparison, and he spoke with an accent that supported the suggestion of a European origin. That and a first name like Odin. Skye shook her head. Who named their children after Norse gods nowadays?

He had been gentle with Ozzy, it was true, and had remedied his breathing issues, but that alone had not won Skye over. The doctor had been flirtatious in a subdued way, and Skye might have taken an interest in his subtle advances, drawn in by his inviting smile and suggestive gaze, until she had been reminded of his heinous activities by a late night delivery of animals to be euthanized by the city shelter. Ozzy had originally been scheduled to be included in that run. The taste in Skye’s mouth had suddenly soured and she had hurried Ozzy out of the clinic, with no plans on ever returning. She had not seen Dr. Taurian since, much to her relief.

While traffic inched forward in one of the innumerable morning snarls, Skye returned her attention to the radio. The weather was now on, and there was a high UV warning for the weekend. She really did have to replenish her supply of sunscreen, but it would have to wait until the trip home. She would be preoccupied with hosting a luncheon for a couple of Strays to Stay’s major benefactors and she would not have the time to step out around the noon hour. The other option would be to stay in all weekend, and that just would not be fair to her canine companions, Toby and Fred.

Skye pulled into her parking spot and then started towards the building that housed just over three dozen lost or abandoned animals. It was a small shelter, compared to the city pound, but the animals were safe here until they found a home. The receptionist, Marina, waved at Skye as she approached the door.

“Mr. Anderson called to confirm that he and Mr. Conroy will be here at 11:45,” she informed Skye.

“What about Mrs. Fuller?” Skye asked. She was their primary donor, and they were heavily dependent upon her funding.

Marina paled a little, and swallowed nervously before she spoke. Skye knew that did not bode well for her or the shelter.

“She called as well, but she sent her regrets. She said that she realizes we rely on her help, but apparently, she plans on contributing towards an expansion of the city shelter this year.” The receptionist’s voice cracked.

“What? No! That can’t be right. She objects to euthanizing animals. She was whole-heartedly no-kill!” Skye realized the pitch of her voice had risen - a sign of her current desperation.

“I’m sorry, Skye. It seems that someone else convinced her otherwise. Maybe you should phone her and find out more for yourself. She wasn’t prepared to give me any specifics.”

Skye nodded, and gritting her teeth, she headed into her office. She contacted Ms. Fuller, the aged widow of a local industrialist, immediately.

“Hannah, Marina tells me that you won’t be supporting us this year for the sake of the city pound. Is this true? Please tell me she misinterpreted what you told her.”

The older woman at the other end of the line sounded somewhat sorry yet decided.

“I know it’s not something you wanted to hear, Skye my dear, but the fact is that while your shelter is idealistic, it is not realistic. The number of strays in the city is multiplying, and shelters like yours truly cannot accommodate them all. While I’m not fond of euthanasia as a solution, it really is the only practical way to bring their population under control, and we aren’t making best use of our resources with the way things stand. Dr. Taurian says...”

“Dr. Taurian?” Skye interrupted, practically frothing at the mouth at the mention of his name. “That murderer? He’s the one that convinced you to do this? I’m begging you to reconsider, Hannah. He plays at caring about the animals, but he slaughters them heartlessly. Think about it, please. You got your Smitty here. He was housed at our shelter for almost seven months before you adopted him. If he were at the city pound, they would have killed him long before that.”

“I’m well aware of that, my dear, but the fact is that if he had been put down, I would have simply opened my home to some other unfortunate furry soul, one that was equally deserving. There’s no lack of animals needing homes, and not enough people out there wanting pets. I do feel bad about leaving you with a gap in your funding, but my mind is made up. I want the most effective results from my charity dollars. Dr. Taurian has convinced me that this is a humane solution and the best for all involved.”

Dr. Taurian, Skye thought bitterly, more like the Dr. Kevorkian of the animal world. The man was more than just a thorn in her side – he was the entire thorn bush, drawing blood from multiple wounds.

She spent almost an hour on the phone with Mrs. Fuller, but did not succeed in changing her mind. Dr. Taurian had bewitched her and clearly had her under his thumb. Why he felt inclined to encourage this expansion, Skye just could not understand. How exactly would it benefit him? Was he some sort of sadist who got an extra kick out of playing volunteer executioner?

She was absolutely drained, as far as her psyche was concerned, when it came time to play hostess at the luncheon for their remaining two benefactors. She put on a happy face, and a gracious smile, and gave it her best. Thankfully, Skye was able to secure their support for another year, and she at least had that to cling to when they finally left. That prevented things from going from bad to worse, but it did not resolve the biggest of her problems. Skye would have to scramble to fill that funding gap left by Mrs. Fuller and Dr. Taurian’s interference as quickly as possible, if at all.