bienvenue, des morts-vivants - last year's NaNo

gold?

gold!	50.0%	[ 3 ]
meep.	33.3%	[ 2 ]
candyyyyy	16.7%	[ 1 ]
Total Votes:			[ 6 ]

[iPod Vixen]

hey there!

just found last year's nanowrimo writing,
which i plan to continue this year,
and i wanted to get some opinions on it.

please, if you have something to say about it,
make it constructive -
let me know what i'm doing wrong,
what i need to work on.

please note that this is completely unedited,
so it's already not going to be very good.
there may be a few notes in it that i threw in for myself -
go ahead and disregard.

it isn't very long -
unfortunately, i did not win last year.
i do not plan to count this as part of this year's nano
(as tempting as it is)

thanks, guys =3

[iPod Vixen]

Spring break is said to be one of the best times of a child's life. Winter has ended - the snow has melted; the trees are budding; the grass is soft under your toes. Heavy, sweaty coats are traded for lighter, brighter jackets as the air warms gently under the golden sun. The sand beneath the jungle gym is no longer hard as granite, so it can finally be used to practice cursive or molded into various castles and version of Patrick's rock. Games of Fox-and-Geese and snowball fights are gone for this year, and freeze-tag, hide'n'seek, and - yes - even make believe return to even those children enthralled by Playstations and iPads. And the best part of all - no school!

For parents, however, spring break is both a blessing and a curse. When children are home from school - and for two whole weeks, even! - they require constant entertainment, supervision, and sustenance. Mom's daily nap is gone, replaced by walks to the park and trips to the movies. Lunch can no longer be a quick salad thrown together last minute; starving children, freshly hungered by several hours of rough housing, demand something more filling, more delicious, and certainly more aesthetically pleasing (usually macaroni and cheese). And you can forget lounging about in your pajamas until five minutes before the school bus arrives. A mom without make up is as terrifying as the monster in the closet or the bogeyman under the bed.

Camryn was learning all sorts of new things about life with children - far more, in fact, than she'd ever wanted to.

"Finally," she groaned as the screams of laughter faded in the distance; her shoulders sagged as she finally allowed herself to relax and show just how exhausted she was. One thing she had learned from watching Aleesha with the children was that you never - ever - let them see that they're wearing you out. It is a weakness that they will lunge at the chance to milk for all its worth. It felt good - no. It felt /amazing/ to let the facade of eagerness and enthusiasm slip for a few hours. The children would be gone all afternoon - the neighborhood park was only two blocks away, right across the street from the police station. They were perfectly safe; Aleesha let them play there all the time, so why shouldn't she? Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to get some chores done.

She lifted the lid on the large blue trash can and dropped the heavy bag of kitchen garbage into its empty chasm. The trash men had come to empty both the recycle and the regular dumpsters today - thank goodness. Those bins were already full to bursting, and they certainly would not have been able to handle even one more load. She let the lid drop with a thunk and turned to grab the mail from the rusty old mailbox three feet away. She wasn't even going to pretend to be happy that it was jam-packed. There wouldn't be any post cards from Jamaica or invitations to the governor's ball. She took a moment to flip through the assorted letters - most envelopes were white, but there were a few yellow (and even one red) mixed in with the bunch. Yup, nothing but bills. Wait - not this one. She struggled with a bulky manilla envelope before finally yanking it free and examining the front. Oh great. More forms for her ex-husband's lawyer. Todd - err, Theodore - had already taken everything but the clothes off her back - what more could he possibly want? Did he think she had made a fortune in these past three years? Now /that/ was a dream she could only wish would come true. With a sigh, she lifted her eyes from the envelopes, preparing to tuck them under her armpit.

She almost didn't recognize Marcus. The ground controller from across the street and one house over was shuffling slowly down the walk, his feet dragging along as though each step was laden with lead. He looked as though he'd aged thirty years overnight - nothing like the young man who accidentally slipped her the note meant for his girlfriend back in senior year pre-calculus. His hair was disheveled and greasy. His skin was chalk white, yet his hollow cheeks were flushed a deep red. Dark circles under his eyes indicated that sleep hadn't been a friend recently. His uniform was wrinkled and dirty; half the buttons were undone, and the other half had been put in the wrong holes. He stopped for a moment at his gate, a look of considerable confusion crossing his face. It was quickly replaced with its former pallor of misery as he once again began the long and laborious trek to the bus stop fifty feet away.

Camryn almost called out to him, offered to help him - but instead, she bit her tongue and forced herself to look away. She couldn't help him. Not right now. He was clearly sick, and she couldn't afford to catch anything right now - not while taking care of both Aleesha /and/ her four children. Marcus was a tough man. He'd pull through. Still, he looked as though even a sneeze would bowl him over. She shook her head and turned to grab the handle of the dumpster, dragging it back up the driveway. /Marcus will be fine,/ she repeated sternly to the nagging little voice of guilt inside her skull. If he didn't think he could work, he could call in sick. It was as simple as that.

She was quickly distracted from the fate of her neighbor when her toe scraped against a little pebble. That was all it took for her brain to register what her feet had been screaming for the past two minutes - concrete that hadn't seen the warmth of the sun since late August was /cold/. She shoved the dumpster against the side of the garage and darted to the side door of the house, slipping inside and shutting it quietly. Her feet were soon snuggled into her favorite pair of bunny slippers - just because they were worn and threadbare didn't mean they weren't warm and cozy! The house was so quiet - her toes so comfy as they wiggled beneath the faded ears - that she decided that washing the breakfast and lunch dishes wasn't that important. Wasn't that why Aleesha had a dishwasher? She'd toss - erm, gently set the dishes in the racks, start it up, and then settle down in the recliner with a nice glass of chocolate milk and a good book. She hadn't read _To Kill a Mockingbird_ in a while; now was the perfect chance to read it without having to deal with the awkward and inevitable questions of the hovering (and incredibly nosy) children.

Camryn had just sat down and opened the book when a voice rasped from the stairway "Cami?" She bit back a sigh, closed the book, and twisted around to face Aleesha. Her sister looked nothing short of pitiful. Her hair was a frightful mess; her skin was pale; her eyes were immersed deep into her skull. She clutched a blanket around her shivering, yet sweaty body and gazed pitifully down at her little sister. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was unable to get a single word out before a coughing fit interrupted her. Camryn winced at how each hack rattled in her chest and shook her entire body like a leaf in a hurricane. It was scary how fast she'd gotten sick, and how serious it was. /And how much she resembled Marcus.../

"I'll see if I can find something to ease it up," she offered without waiting for a request, setting her book on the low coffee table and reaching for the family's favorite toy: the Kindle Fire. She much preferred it to her old iPad. This actually came with a bluetooth keyboard. As she pulled up the internet browser and typed in the search, Aleesha ambled over and collapsed on the couch, resting her head on the fluffy throw pillow, closing her eyes, and dramatically placing the back of her hand against her forehead. “Excruciating agony makes me cranky.”

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen." Camryn threw her own pillow at her before standing up, the impish smile that had flashed across her face fading to a more serious, slightly worried expression. "I'll make you a salt water gargle - you can take it while I fix up this special cough syrup for you. It should help with the pain, if nothing else."

Aleesha didn't say a word, simply closing her eyes and letting out that heavy sigh that children everywhere are all-too-familiar with - the one that says, without words, 'you are totally and completely wrong, but I shall let you do as you please anyway just so you can learn the hard way that I am always right'.

"It'll help with the pain," Camryn repeated firmly as she crossed over to the open kitchen. "Just stay here. This'll only take a minute." She ignored the groans behind her as she flicked the switch on the water kettle and measured some salt into a tall coffee mug. When the kettle hissed, she poured the hot water into the cup and carried it back out to the living room. "Here. Gargle in the bathroom, please. I don't want to throw up while I'm making your syrup." Aleesha squinted at her, then groaned feebly and accepted the offering. It pained Camryn to see her sister struggling so - she could barely stand, and walking seemed almost impossible, but she somehow made it to the bathroom without incident. With a sigh, she turned back and began to measure out the ingredients listed on the website. She wasn't sure how well this worked, but there were a good fifty comments beneath it raving about how wonderful it was, so surely it would do /some/ good...

"There," she said aloud as she stirred it one more time, for good measure. Aleesha was standing beside her, setting the empty mug into the sink. "Take a swallow of this. I think it'll help." The sick woman closed her eyes and opened her mouth, looking more like a miserable little girl than a hardworking single mother of four. Camryn resisted the urge to roll her eyes and stuck a spoonful of the gloop into her mouth. Aleesha swallowed it and promptly began to gag. "Oh hush," her sister grumbled as she pulled the spoon out and tossed it in the dishwasher, "it's not that bad."

"It tastes like a moldy Shamrock Shake."

"Oh, you're hilarious." She scraped it into a jar with a spatula and set it in the fridge. "Back to bed, your royal highness. You won't get better if you're down here bothering me." Aleesha opened her mouth to protest, but Camryn gave her a gentle shove between the shoulders, steering her toward the stairs. "March. You're too sick to do anything. I don't need you breathing your god-awful germs all over my nice clean kitchen."

Aleesha reluctantly stumbled forward, but stopped at the foot of the stairs to croak, "I think I could stomach some food now, Camryn."
Well, that got her attention. "Good. That means you're getting better." She assumed so, anyway - Aleesha hadn't done more than nibble at toast for the past three days. Maybe the fact that she actually wanted food meant she was on the road to recovery. Still, being hungry didn't mean there was food in the fridge. "I'm getting ready to grab a few groceries. Do you have something specific in mind, or should I just grab something totally random at the store?"

"Chinese."

"Well, that's specific." Camryn waited for a moment to see if her sister would elaborate, but Aleesha didn't say another word - probably because she was coughing again. "All right, I'll grab you some fried rice with sweet'n'sour sauce, okay? But you don't get a single bite if you don't march your butt upstairs and rest while I'm gone. Scoot!" She smacked her sister's bottom and walked away without waiting to see if she would actually go upstairs or not. Her bedroom was the only bedroom on the ground floor of the two-story house. It was technically a guest bedroom - or it had been, until her divorce. Now it was her sanctuary; it was the one room where she could escape from the insanity of children, if only for a moment.

She shrugged on a light denim jacket - it was a nice day, but it wasn't THAT nice - and grabbed her keys from the small bowl on her dresser. Her wallet was already in the car; this was something that her sister protested most strongly, and for good reason. However, Camryn had learned that if she didn't keep it in the car, she would definitely forget to grab it on her way out the door. With her luck, that would be the day she got pulled over for something completely trivial, like forgetting to signal a turn in a one-way road. She tossed aside the old bunny slippers and slid her feet into a pair of open-toed sandals. "I'm heading out!" she called up the stairs on her way out the door; there was no response, so she stepped out and let the door click shut behind her.

The garage had a musty smell - like a combination of old paper, mothballs and glue, with a touch of bitter smoke still remaining from the fire of 1992. The north wall was packed with boxes of things that Aleesha could no longer use, but simply couldn't bear to part with - Debra's baby clothes, Nico's Hot Wheels collection, Marlee's handprint mural from last year's Vacation Bible School. Aleesha's plants were lined up in neat rows by height along the south wall, which was connected to the house. Most of them had long since died, as Marlee and Nico regularly forgot to water them; soon it would be time to drag them to the herb garden and dig them into the soil for added fertilizer. The west wall, of course, was the rickety garage door; it looked like it was in good condition on the outside, but a few coats of paint could hide anything well. The truth was that it rattled like a rusty train when it opened - it jammed halfway down so someone would have to force it the rest of the way - and it let in even the weakest draught. However, the inside bore the fingerpaintings of their childhood (hey, they weren't allowed to draw on the walls, and this was the perfect size for a forest of butterflies), so Aleesha strictly forbade anybody from replacing it. Camryn refused to look at the east wall; that was the home for her father's old woodworking bench and the shelf of her mother's cookbooks. They had been dead for almost five years now; the pain was still fresh, still real. She quickly punched the button to open the garage and slid into the car, busying herself with buckling her seat belt and checking her mirrors so she wouldn't have to confront the view directly in front of her.

Camryn hated driving the old minivan. It was a mid-90s Toyota Estima Lucida - one that looked more like a wanna-be space shuttle than a car for transporting kids to and from soccer games and dance class. It still ran like it was brand new - their father had taken good care of it, and Aleesha was more than willing to keep up that sacred tradition. It wasn't that Camryn hated the minivan itself - how could you hate something so full of happy memories of a beloved childhood? She just didn't like the image that it imprinted upon her. She wanted to be known as "attractive unmarried woman in a relationship with a wealthy-yet-charitable man" - not as "Aleesha Otis's divorced sister who babysits sometimes". Ugh, but bills and a starving bank account (not to mention a closet that was going through major fashion-withdrawals) made owning a car worthy of her ideal reputation impossible - and Evan, though extremely well-off, was a firm believer in taking things slowly. He was still in the "flowers and chocolates" stage of their relationship, even though they'd been dating for nearly a year now. Asking him for a car was like trying to borrow money from a pet rock. She pulled out of the driveway, waited for a young mother and her little blonde daughter to toddle across the street, and began to five minute trek to the local WalMart. It wasn't that far away - it only took five minutes because Camryn did not much care for construction zones and thus took the long way to the superstore, rather than just driving straight there. She absently pushed the button to turn on the radio - it was almost noon, after all, and Carol Roth and Glenn Beck started their talkshow right at noon.

/BANG! went the starter's gun, SWISH! went the hare
He was off in the wink of an eye
And down the road and round the bend and off across the - /

Camryn yelped in surprise as the chipper voice of Shari Lewis exploded from the car's ratted speakers. She swerved, narrowly avoiding the stop sign that she had just definitely run, and slammed her foot on the brakes. The tires squealed as the car skidded to a halt mere inches from the police car that had just pulled up to the intersection. The force of the sudden stop slammed Camryn into the steering wheel, the impact of her breasts against the hub pressing just hard enough for the horn to let out a sharp blast. Everything else in the car that wasn't nailed down had shot forward too, rearranging most of the car's contents; for the first time since twelve-year-old Debra's birth, the floor beneath the far back seat was visible again. As the car relaxed back onto its wheels, everything settled; Camryn slid back into her seat with a stunned expression on her face; her hands were clutching the steering wheel as tightly as if it were a brand new iPhone. She stared in horror at the cop as he turned to stare back at her, his face mirroring hers. After a moment and without breaking eye contact, he reached over to flip a switch on his dashboard. The lights atop his SUV began to flash blue and red. Camryn groaned and pressed her face against the top of her steering wheel, vaguely aware that Shari Lewis was still singing about /- was boasting, where was the tortoise, where oh where was he?/ She could feel something sticking to her hair, too - prying her fingers, still stiff from terror, away from the steering wheel and groping against her short wavy hair, she quickly discovered that the caramel apple wrapper that had been stuck to the ceiling since October and that she and Aleesha had long since given up trying to remove, was now cheerfully nestled against her scalp. Great. ********. Could this day get any worse?

Judging by the look on the face of the cop as he scrambled out the passenger door of his SUV and approached her car - not to mention the SHERIFF badge glistening on his chest, it was a very distinct possibility.

For once, Camryn wasn't a smart a**. She handed over all the papers he wanted and answered his questions as meekly as a child who just got caught with his hands in the cookie jar and chocolate smeared across his face. She even told the truth about why she had run a stop sign and almost totaled a police car. This was unusual for her; ordinarily, she would make up some story about a cat carrying a starving kitten across the street. Not today - she didn't need to risk getting into even more trouble. He gave her a brief lecture on being more careful on the road (and turning on your radio /before/ you leave your driveway so the worst that would happen is you have a mild heart attack); he wrote her a ticket (which she had expected so she didn't breathe a word of protest or complaint); and finally, as if deliberately adding insult to injury, handed the paper through the window while cheerfully stating, "By the way - you have a cupcake wrapper stuck in your hair. It suits your whole...'mom on a mission' look. Have a nice day, ma'am." He tipped his hat and walked away, whistling a happy little tune. He seemed blissfully unaware that he had left herstaring after him with the paper clenched tightly between her trembling fingers. Mom on a mission? He thought she looked like a mom on a mission? Well, that did it. All her dreams of being seen as a single, desirable female flew out the window after him (along with the contents of her wallet as she read the amount he'd written on the ticket).

...drat. Nothing to do now but head out to Walmart. It didn't seem like this day could get any worse.

Camryn very quickly learned that she should never /ever/ say - or even think - those words, because she would end up eating them. Even patiently waiting at the red light half a block away, she could see that the parking lot was full to bursting; even the adjoining minimall and the clinic across the street seemed to be struggling to keep up with the super center's overflow. /Great,/ she mused as the light turned green and she eased into the intersection; she didn't want another ticket today, thank you. It took fifteen minutes and two trips around the enormous parking lot for her to finally give up. She could barely fit the Lucida into the handicapped spot in front of the Game Stop; she was pretty sure her mirror scratched the door to the truck on her left, but she wasn't about to park across the street at the clinic, thank you. It'd be faster just to walk to Walmart from their house. She stuck the note to her windshield as an afterthought, in case any cops saw that the only way she was crippled was financially. Maybe she'd get lucky and anybody attempting to write her another ticket would assume she'd already gotten one and be on their way.

The two minute walk across the two parking lots was far more dangerous than anyone could have anticipated. Drivers and pedestrians were locked in a harrowing battle over the right-of-way. Camryn double checked before crossing each and every lane; she never stepped forward unless she was certain nobody was coming. She still found herself rushing forward and leaping backward to avoid being hit by cars that seemed to appear out of nowhere; did nobody obey speed limits anymore? By the time she reached the double doors, her mood had taken a nose dive; she nodded emphatically in agreement with the dark grafitti a young employee was sullenly scrubbing from the light brown walls:

Welcome to WalMart -
Get ur s**t and get out!
Have a nice day ?

Right now, the only thing stopping her from turning around and going home was the reminder that there were five empty tummies and hopeful faces waiting for her. She almost entered the building through the door marked EXIT, just to show them how upset she was. She remembered, however, that almost every customer used the wrong door, and that it would probably be a greater act of rebellion to enter through the ENTRANCE - which she did with a brief burst of satisfaction. That moment faded quickly when she saw one lonely cart in the enormous corall. One cart, when there were so many cars out there? That meant that the carts were either in the parking lot or - or in the store itself. She gulped as the memory of Black Fridays past flashed through her mind - was this what the store was like today? Oh god, she hoped not... Straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and stretched out a hand to take the cart -

"Ouch!" Camryn stumbled back as a child pinched her sharply on the thigh. Her eyes watered with pain - someone definitely didn't have a habit of chewing his or her nails. Once she blinked the salty tears away, she could only stare in disbelief as the mother of said child snatched the cart for herself. At least, she was pretty sure it was a woman. She had thick, bushy eyebrows that very nearly met in the middle of her forehead and a faint pencil mustache coating her upper lip. She was very heavyset; her triple-extra-large black T-shirt with the words DISEASE FREE in bold white letters and an arrow pointing straight down to her - oh god, she didn't even want to /think/ about what was down there - didn't even cover her low-hanging stomach. Her thin brown hair, streaked with gray, was swaddled with rainbow curlers. A dark brown mole, complete with three curly hairs, was nestled comfortably above thin, red-painted lips. She scowled at Camryn, then stretched out her short, pudgy arms to lift her toddler against her chest, which the stunned woman quickly realized was much too large - and greatly lacking in the brassiere department. As she turned to set the child of unidentified gender in the child seat of the shopping cart, it became apparent that the pink-and-black plaid sweat pants had the word JUICY written across the round, cottage cheese buttcheeks. As she turned to walk away, her iPhone fell out of her pocket and clattered against the floor. Camryn could only stare in horror as the woman stopped and bent over, revealing a rather large hole in her sweatpants - and a long, brown tampon string. She was only bent over a moment, but even as she straightened and slowly shuffled forward, her pants shifted downward. Her choice of a leopard print G-string (presumably as a fashion statement) did not speak volumes of her prowess in bed - it only made her look like she had extremely questionable toilet hygiene.

It was rude to stare - this had been drilled into Camryn for as long as she could remember. Yet, somehow, she couldn't tear her gaze from that enormous rump as it swayed back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock with a demonically twisted sense of humor. The woman soon disappeared into the throng surrounding the donut display, but it was too late. The memories had been seared into the forefront of her brain with a red hot branding iron. Just the thought of that string dangling down and clinging to the cotton-spandex blend, covered in that thick, rusty brown slime... she swallowed back the bile that so quickly rose into her throat as she grabbed a basket from the floor. Oh but there it was again, that mental picture of that JUICY butt - and this time, she couldn't gulp fast enough. Those Cheerios that she had so hurriedly choked down before taking Debra to her dentist appointment made their reappearance, spraying out of her mouth even as she raised a hand to try and stop it. She didn't run, she didn't scream - she just stood there, quietly praying that what she thought had just happened, hadn't. After a moment, she slowly opened her eyes to see a teenager standing before her, bony hands clutching the basket she had just grabbed. She was definitely not next in line for the homecoming queen's crown. She would have been lucky to simply get away with frizzy blonde hair and freckles. Luck, however, was clearly not on her side, for she was cursed with thick-rimmed glasses, bulky braces (clearly a feeble attempt to battle that massive overbite), a bright red rash (oh wait, no, that was acne), and now - puke. She and Camryn stared at each other in horror for three full seconds before she burst into tears and turned to flee, shrieking "I told you I was hideous! She took one look at me and threw up in my face! I'm going to kill myself!" as she ran for the restrooms. Another teenager - possibly her older, far more attractive sister - chased after her, but not before giving the stunned woman a filthy look.

Camryn groaned and sank into the bench beside the McDonald's entrance, ignoring the stares, the pointing, the loud whispers. This day couldn't possibly get any worse.

Could it?

Rule number one of bad days: NEVER say 'it can't get any worse'. The devil himself won't utter those words - and for very good reason.

She was about to learn that reason the hard way.

Camryn gingerly stepped around the Walmart employee that was dumping a pound of what looked like cat litter on the puddle and entered the massive throng of people. She had been here on some of the busiest shopping days of the year - Black Friday, Christmas Eve, even the day after Halloween - but that was nothing compared to today. Each aisle was packed with people; how they managed to move at all was beyond her. There wasn't an employee anywhere to be found, and she was pretty sure they were hiding. She certainly would be. The shelves were surprisingly full, considering how many people were shoveling things into their carts and baskets. There were places, however, that were barren and abandoned. The electronics department, for instance, had only a few people browsing in it; however, almost every television, computer, and gaming system, not to mention the games themselves, were gone. According to the sign hanging from the ceiling, there was a major clearance sale going on; this must be why people were going crazy today. The donut displays were torn apart as though by ravenous wolves; even the day-old bin was empty. Oh wait, not quite - an old man with a walker was hurriedly shoving the last few donuts into the box and hobbling away as quickly as he could. She fought her way to the back of the store, then dug her hand into her pocket to pull out the shopping list. Her heart sank as she stared at the crumpled paper. It wasn't the shopping list. It was Debra's prescription for her ADHD medication, which she was also supposed to pick up today. She must have left it at home - damn it. Now she had to go all the way back just to start this hellish process all over again. Damn it...

It took nearly fifteen minutes for her to reach her car this time. Apparently leaving the store was strictly forbidden. The mob was rushing inward as she was struggling outward. She felt like a salmon rushing upriver; that thought inspired a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that cheerfully reminded her that the salmon tended to jump into the mouth of a waiting grizzly. It took much longer than usual to escape out the doors, but even then, she wasn't free. Cars were still rushing around; people were walking across the parking lot as though it belonged to them, ignoring the honks of the approaching vehicles. She was absolutely terrified to try to cross /two/ parking lots and seriously considered walking home. It'd take longer, but it would be a /lot/ safer. But no - she needed the car and besides, it wasn't even her car. With her luck, it'd be stolen by tomorrow. Squaring her jaw (sending out a quick plea to whoever might be listening), she darted across the street to the next parking lot. She made it across, but not without angering the driver of a speeding Prius, who honked at her and flipped her off as he zoomed by. She paused to catch her breath - not because running was hard but because almost getting hit by a car was - before continuing her trek to the car. There was no new ticket on her windshield, thank god. The ploy had worked. She neatly twitched it out from under the wiper and shoved it into the glove compartment. She was definitely ready to go home. The problem was, she didn't want to come back here. But she had to. The children would not be happy if they came home from the park to see three cheese-and-lettuce sandwiches in front of them.

Speaking of food - she was going to make a pit stop at the Jade Phoenix to grab that Chinese food. After that harrowing experience, she deserved it. With a satisfied nod, she pulled out of the parking lot and followed the main road into the northern half of town, near the college. It wasn't as popular as, say, Little Caesar's (I mean, who could beat $5 pizza?) but it definitely got a lot of business. It was the one place in Orbourne that wasn't tainted by the hustle and bustle of Western society. It didn't look like your typical Chinese restaurant. The barren walls were the shade of white most people only see in a storage shed. The hard wooden tables were carefully arranged in neat, straight rows; it was pretty obvious that the room had been very carefully arranged and measured out with a ruler and tape. The menu board hanging above the cafeteria-style counter was hand-written, but you could tell that whoever made it had taken great pains to make it look nice by writing ancient proverbs in Chinese around the edges.

Even though the restaurant was minimalistic and mostly unfurnished, it was very warm, homey, even welcoming. The exotic smell of strange and unfamiliar spices was the first thing you noticed as you pulled open the door. It was almost instantly followed by the tantalizing sizzle of vegetables frying on the stove directly behindt he counter. The constant chatter of foreign voices replaced music as background noise. It was impossible to tell if they were bickering, teasing, or simply having a normal conversation. As the restaurant was family owned and operated, it could easily have been all three at once.

The Wongs took great pride in their reputation and their practices of using only certified organic foods and homegrown vegetables. Any customer who expressed even the most innocent form of doubt was promptly dragged up the back steps, past their little apartment, straight to their rooftop garden. In the winter, of course, it wasn't an issue for they dragged their many plants down into the main body of the restaurant itself. Anybody who didn't care to share his table with snap peas and celery stalks was more than welcome to grab a doggy bag and take his meal home.

Yes, the Wongs did things how they liked them, in spite of the many many lectures given by the health inspecter, who patiently repeated the same thing every time he came in: "Mr and Mrs Wong, you just can't /do/ that here in America." There had been many attempts to shut Wong's down, but so many people protested that the board of health reluctantly agreed to turn a blind eye - provided they maintained basic sanitary conditions. This, of course, was no problem. Whenever Mrs Wong wasn't cooking or shouting at her husband and two children, she was cleaning. It wasn't uncommon to see her on her hands and knees, scrubbing the speckled linoleum tiles? Customers in her way? Not a problem. A quick bark of "move your feet!" had them quickly hopping out of the way, lest she grab them and drag them down to help. Everybody was equal at the Jade Phoenix, whether they liked it or not.

The bell rang cheerfully as Camryn opened the door and let it fall shut behind her, then promptly dropped to the floor with a sharp tinkle. A shrill, heavily accented female voice immediately followed, shouting "You pay for that!" It continued on but was quickly drowned in the flurry and roar of activity that dominated the kitchen and echoed throughout the whole building. Even as she kneeled to pick up the unharmed bell and hang it back on its hook, Camryn could feel the crippling vice of today's stresses melt away, eased into oblivion by the familiar and comforting scents and clatter. Nobody turned to stare at her noisy entrance; they simply smiled and lifted their hand in a brief wave as she passed on her way to the counter. Wong's had a way of changing people, uniting them. People who had publicly ignored each other for years were known to share a meal at the Jade Pheonix. Jonas McKinney, well known as the rudest man in town, was civil here - and actually quite a likeable fellow. You couldn't /not/ relax once you walked through those doors.

Camryn approached the counter somewhat slowly, relishing her brief semblance of normalcy. The special today was pineapple sweet'n'sour chicken - Aleesha's favorite. If anything could get her to eat, it would be this. There was a bell on the counter, but she didn't ring it. Somehow, Mrs. Wong always knew when people were waiting. Sure, she kept you waiting, but never too long. She only kept you waiting just enough. Camryn counted to three seconds in her head; sure enough, right in the junction where "Mississippi" ended and "four" was about to begin, Mrs Wong was at the counter, sporting a beam so bright and happy that is seemed to consume her face. "Ah, is girl on fire! You not been here for long time. We thought you dead!" Mrs Wong's total lack of tact didn't put people off. It only made her sound more charming and sincere.

Camryn couldn't help but smile. Even though Mrs Wong treated everybody as if they were her favorite child, it still made her feel special. "Hi, Mrs Wong. It's spring break this week. I have to take care of the kids."

"Why for you do that? They have mother. Is her job. Make her do it."

"She's been sick. I'm helping her out so they don't get sick too."

"That is good reason." Mrs Wong nodded wisely. Then, her conversational tone changed to a brisk one. "I no have time for chitchat. Very busy day. What you want?"

"A number 12 and your pineapple chicken special, please. Oh, and two drinks. One organic green tea and one 7-Up."

The middle aged woman carefully wrote down the order on her tablet of receipt paper and quickly did the math in her head before punching the numbers into the ancient cash register. It really was quite old - the manufacturing date engraved on the side read "1905". Mr Wong had found it when they first came to America and had fallen in love with it. He had oh-so-tenderly repaired it, cleaned it, and polished it. Even now, almost twenty yeras later, it was still his favorite toy. The Jade Phoenix wasn't backwards - they accepted checks and credit cards, although gift cards still eluded them - but Mr Wong rewarded any and all cash transactions with double portions and extra eggrolls.

"$22.88." Camryn was already handing over a twenty and a five dollar bill. Mrs Wong took it and pushed the buttons. They clicked into place with loud chunks - when she hit the last one, it triggered the drawer to shoot out with a loud 'ka-ching!' and a 'shhhhBAM'. It was a good thing Mrs Wong was so good at math - this register didn't automatically count change. She dug out two dollars and twelve cents, tore the receipt off the tablet, and dropped both into Camryn's waiting hand; then she walked to the fridge with the glass door behind her and pulled out the two bottles of beverages to set them on the counter. She paused for a moment to tear off the copy of the receipt and put it into the drawer before shutting it, thus rendering everything ready for the next customer, who was already walking through the door. Camryn glanced up, then grabbed the two drinks and walked to the nearby table, sitting down to wait for her meal.

The newcomer was a heavy-set man. He wore a neat brown suit, with a chocolate-and-cream-striped tie to match. His shoes were polished and neat, his fingernails trimmed and clean, his ears free of wax and hair. His scalp was bald, but a thick bush of hair still grew around his ears and the back of his head, a cape for the shimmering dome. His face was solemn, but the wrinkles in his forehead betrayed his stern facade; he was clearly a man who loved a good laugh. He strode up to the counter and placed his order - one large Szechuan Shrimp, curry beef with lemongrass, cashew shrimp with vegetables, and tofu with black bean sauce and pea pods. Oh, and drinks - lemonade, diet Pepsi, Orange Slice, and ginger tea. He paid his bill - a whopping $43.60 - with a shiny new Visa Black Card; he was clearly a rich man, perhaps a member of some VIP board or the CEO of something. Of course, as he tucked his card into his Gucci wallet, he let his sleeve slide back over his wrist slightly, so the light could catch on the face of his Rolex. Camryn rolled her eyes and looked away. Why did the wealthy feel the need to flaunt their riches in the faces of those less well off? It was really annoying. Besides, he obviously wasn't /that/ rich - if he was, why was he buying the office lunch at a Chinese place? If he was so rich, why did he need to even buy the office lunch? Her sour thoughts brought a faint smile to her face. That's right. He wasn't as rich as he was making himself out to be. This definitely helped quench the bitterness and rivalry that swelled within her.

Of course, what happened next certainly made her feel a lot better about the situation.

"Oh, and I'll have a Cola as well." He was texting on his phone - a large shiny Samsung Epic 4G (which she only recognized because of the inherent greed of her twelve-year-old niece, who insisted that $900 was /not/ too much for a phone) - as he called his new order over the counter. He'd already paid for his order, but that wouldn't be a problem, right? I mean, surely they could afford to give him a free coke. He'd already spent almost fifty dollars. They should be grateful. Without him, they wouldn't be able to buy their children shoes. Camryn felt a tinge of guilt at this new onslaught of acidic thoughts. Was it bad that she was having fun at his expense? Probably. Did she care? Not really.

Mrs Wong didn't help at all to hinder her silent, one-sided war on the man. She didn't say a word - she simply opened the fridge, pulled out a nice tall bottle of Poland Spring Water, and set it on the counter in front of him, then disappeared into the kitchen. He stared at the bottle for a moment, the condensation quickly pooling and trickling down the plastic in a perfect imitation of a beer commercial, then folded his arms defiantly. "Excuse me." When there was no answer, he raised his voice, a nasal yet wheezing sound. "Ex-/cuse/ me."

Mrs Wong reappeared at the counter - it suddenly occured to Camryn that she had never seen Mrs Wong walk anywhere; she just popped in and out, here and there like an annoying Internet ad. "You have problem?"

"I asked for a Cola." He sounded smug now - surely he'd get his way now that he'd confronted her. She'd cower, he was sure, and bow and apologize profusely before replacing the water with his desired drink - on the house, of course, and with a free eggroll to show just how truly penetant she was.

Boy, was he in for a surprise.

"Drink water. Is better for you."

He hesitated - this wasn't what he'd expected at all. But he still had an ace or two up his sleeve. "The customer is always right."

Clearly he didn't know Mrs. Wong very well. "Customer stupid - and also too fat."

Camryn had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, but a snort escaped her anyway. The man turned to shoot her a dirty look just as Mr Wong came up with his arms full of plastic containers. Camryn stood and approached the counter, standing much closer to the man then was technically necessary. This was just too much fun. She took her two containers, which were marked with little flames (Mrs Wong called her the 'girl on fire' because of her thick bushy mane of frizzy, bright apricot red), and returned to her seat. She could leave - she really had no more reason to be here. However, she had a feeling this party wasn't quite over yet. The man was opening each container - clearly he didn't trust the people preparing his food to make it right, which kind of raised the question of 'if you don't trust the people making your food, why are you buying food from them?' She could see the first three boxes were marked with stick figures - the fourth had a doodle of a fat man on it. Oh man - she was right when she thought it wasn't over yet. He glared at the figure, then opened the box to reveal - steamed mixed vegetables. He stared at it for a moment, then lifted his gaze to stare into Mrs Wong's innocent eyes. "What is this supposed to be?"

"Is special order. In my country, is called /Sh?l?/. Here in your country - is called sall-lad."

"I didn't order this!"

"You ordered food off skinny people menu. I fix. I give you food off fat people menu."

His face was so flushed, it began to look more purple and bruised than pink and coquettishly cute. "I want my Szechuan Shrimp!"

Mrs Wong leaned forward to jab his stomach with her finger; it vanished between the folds, even with the protective shirt-vest-and-suit-coat-barrier. "You lose fifty pounds, you come back - we give shrimp on house."

The customer was sputting uncontrollably now. "I can't just lose weight willy-nilly! I happen to have a serious medical condition!"

"Yeah. Is called Big Mac Belly."

Camryn couldn't control herself any longer. She began to laugh - it slipped out as an soft but insane giggle and rose in pitch, volume, and intensity with such speed that she was surprised she didn't rupture her larynx (voice box). She doubled over to hold her sides, which were already starting to stitch with pain. The customer gave up, collected his boxes and drinks, and shuffled out the door. Mrs Wong shook her head at his retreating back and lifted her hand to shake her finger at Camryn, who was wiping away tears of mirth. "Shame on you, girl on fire! You should not laugh at fat man. It bounce off his tummy and hit you right in face!" She was smiling though, so Camryn stood up, crossed over to the counter, and dropped a five dollar bill in the tip jar. It was a favorite of Mrs Wong's son, Li Kun - he took a square container, separated it in half, and posted a sign behind it that read "Pokemon or Yu-Gi-Oh?" She put her money in the side designated to Pokemon - she'd never had much fondness for Yu-Gi-Oh. It was too confusing. "Bye, Mrs Wong," she called over her shoulder as she walked out the door with a renewed spring in her step. This place was amazing for keeping her mentally stable.

continued in the next post

[iPod Vixen]

The drive home was much, much more tolerable. Camryn even sang along with the radio, something she never did. She parked the car in the driveway - no point in struggling with the garage door if she was leaving in a while, right? - and carried the food into the house. "Luuuuuuucy, I'm home!" she called up the stairs. The response was a groan, so she accepted it as a sign that Aleesha would be down within the next hour or two and unpacked her food. Mmmm, chicken lo mein. Mr Wong made it perfectly. He didn't include cabbage or onions or celery in Camryn's orders. He did, however, throw in some brocolli. Ah, Wong's. She hoped it would never, ever close.

Aleesha dropped into the chair with a groan as Camryn began sorting through the mail. "Wong's? Sweet." Her voice sounded even worse now. It was more hoarse and fainter, as though talking was harder than running a marathon. She opened the box and began to eat, albeit slowly. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the large manilla envelope in her sister's hands.

"Something from Theodore." She opened it and pulled out the papers, scanning it quickly. Her face went ashen; she dropped the papers on the table and stared at them. Aleesha opened her mouth as if to speak, but began to cough violently instead. "He's suing me," Camryn whispered in answer to the unspoken question, her voice hollow and weak. "He's suing me for the engagement ring I sold three years ago." Her hands began to tremble; a cold sweat broke out at her hairline. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. It was a dream - a horrible dream. But then, she'd thought that about that night, hadn't she?

**FLASHBACK**

She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, singing along with Mariah Carey as she crooned "Make my wish come true - all I want for Christmas is you." Well, Mariah might still be dreaming under the mistletoe, but for Camryn - her wish had already come true. She had an amazing job, a nice car, a beautiful house - and best of all, a husband with a fat wallet, rock-hard abs, and a big heart. Sure, as a lawyer, he spent a lot of time at the office or working from home - but that was okay. He had promised to take the whole week before Christmas off work, and so far, with only two days and a wake-up remaining to the big day, he had kept his promise and then some. He had put up the Christmas lights with great finesse and artist flair, brought home and decorated an enormous Christmas tree, and even gone to the mall with her in that ridiculous - yet amazingly comfortable, according to him - red sweater with a large green tree across the chest. He really was the perfect boyfriend: disarming smile, flirtatious charm, energetic (and full of stamina). It was just a coincidence that he was her boss, too. That's right. Camryn Lawrence was married to none other than Theodore Spencer, one of the most successful lawyers in St. Henning. Usually her best friend Cindi's attempts to hook her up with people didn't work, but she had to admit, Todd was a catch.

She parked in the driveway and stepped out, her suede boots crunching lightly in the snow. Thick flurries were dancing around her - the forecast called for six inches of snow tonight, and another foot and a half by Christmas. That would mean she and Todd could curl up in front of the old fireplace and sip wine as Bing Crosby lulled her to sleep in his warm, strong arms. A smile tugged at her lips as she gazed contentedly at the soft glow in the window - he'd already lit the fireplace for her. Perhaps he'd even made her a mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows. He was so thoughtful that way. Shivering in delighted expectation, she walked up the small yet elegant walkway to the heavy wooden door. It was locked - unusual, but with the rash of burglaries going about, it was probably for the best. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, the warm air rushing out with a whoosh. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it up, adding her scarf, gloves, and earmuffs to the rack to dry. She stepped out of her shoes and pulled on the thick fuzzy socks she kept by the door at all times; they hugged her toes and slowly coaxed the blood back to her feet.

"Todd?" She could hear faint noise in the background of the house - he must be watching TV. Oh well, she'd join him in a minute. She carried the bags of take-out into the kitchen and set them on the counter, before turning left into the living room. It was a small room, but the design and furniture arrangement made it look large. Now, with the firelight casting flickering shadows across the ceiling and walls, it looked enormous. The large TV above the mantle was off - but the sounds were getting louder. And they sounded oddly like... porn? Why was Todd watching porn, and in the living room? They had passionate sex at least twice a day, surely he didn't need to watch porn. "Todd?" Yes, it was definitely porn - and the voices sounded familiar. Was one of her favorite actresses in pornography? No, surely not. This didn't sound anything like Felicia Day. It sounded more like -

"Oh /********/, Cindi..."

She stepped around the couch and froze. Her husband was lying naked on the couch while her best friend rode him like a horse. Her eyes met Camryn's, but she didn't stop - she just smiled brightly and said "Honey, don't you have something to say to Miss Lawrence?" Todd tilted his head slightly to see around Cindi's ample, bouncing bosom and simply said "It's over, Camryn. Your s**t is in the kitchen. Leave the keys on the counter. Oh, and don't bother coming in to work tomorrow either. You have five minutes to get out of my house before I'm calling the police." With that, he settled back down and tilted his head back, enjoyment written all over his face. Cindi giggled impishly at the stunned expression on Camryn's face. "Oh don't look so glum. T'is the season to be jolly! And now that you're homeless /and/ unemployed, I'm sure you'll have no problem taking your sluttiness and turning it into something constructive!" She paused, then added helpfully, as if Camryn was a wee bit slow and didn't understand plain English, "I mean you should go work at a strip club or maybe have sex with lots of guys for money, like the little whore you are. Uh-oh, time's running out. You'd better leave soon!"

Camryn couldn't believe it. She silently turned and walked back into the kitchen. Sure enough, a black duffel bag was sitting on the floor by the counter. How had she missed it? She'd practically tripped over it. She picked it up with a sigh, slinging it over her shoulder. The light caught on her engagement ring, and she lifted her hand to gaze at it as tears began to well up in her eyes. It was a simple ring - four princess-cut diamonds set around the larger center stone, with eight diamonds lining the shank of the 14-karat white gold base. It was beautiful, simple, extremely expensive. She closed her eyes as a single tear slid down her cheek and splashed the marble counter top.

"Ooooh, that's gorgeous." She jumped and spun around to see Cindi standing beside her. The naked woman grabbed her hand and pulled it to her face so she could examine it. "Yes, that's nice... well, since you won't be needing that anymore, I think I'll just take it." She grabbed it with her thumb and forefinger and yanked - but it didn't come off. She looked up, confused - rings were supposed to come off, right? - as a fist shot forward and slammed against her face with a sharp /crack/. She screamed and stumbled backward, dropping the hand.

"That's for stealing my fiance." Camryn turned and stormed out the kitchen door, passing Todd who was leaning against the living room archway. She slapped him - why change a working method? "That's for taking nine years of my life and stomping on it." She turned around and walked out the door, slamming it behind her. Icicles shattered on the ground around her, but she ignored it and returned to her car. She skidded out of the driveway and sped off, ignoring the spedometer, the chill in the air, her lack of coat or shoes. She just had to get out - to go somewhere. But where? She was now effectively homeless - the house was in Todd's name. Then again, so was the car - he was probably reporting it stolen right now. She had to go somewhere...

Aleesha.

The name sprang into the forefront of her mind immediately. They had fought just three days ago - one of the most aggressive fights they'd ever had. Aleesha was certain that Todd was cheating on her - a man like that was never satisfied with just one woman - but Camryn wouldn't hear it. And now, it turned out Aleesha was right. She had to go to her sister - but would she even open the door? Probably not - but it was a chance she had to take. She had to sleep somewhere tonight. She had to start looking for work bright and early tomorrow, after all.

**END FLASHBACK**

The coughing jerked Camryn back to reality; she shook her head as the room swam back into view. While she had let her food grow cold, Aleesha had eaten every bite of hers and was now coughing violently into her napkin. As the coughing continued, Camryn grew worried - that had to be painful, especially with strep. Finally she stopped with a sharp gasp and pulled away from her napkin. "Uh - Camryn - " She didn't have to say it; her sister could see it plainly on her face, trickling from her lips down to her chin. She had coughed up a lot of blood.

"Hospital." The younger sister wasted no time. She grabbed her sister by the wrist - gingerly, since she didn't want to hurt her, and she wanted to get herself sick even less. She had to help Aleesha into the car - it was slow and frustrating, but it had to be done. This time, as she slammed her foot against the gas pedal, she shot past the stop signs deliberately. Thank god everybody in Orbourne was at Walmart. She passed the super center - it was definitely still packed - and drove through the clinic parking lot so she could drive around the large cream colored building. Why was the hospital so much farther away, so much harder to get to, than the clinic? Weren't emergencies more important than flu shots and removing ingrown toenails? She stopped directly in front of the door and helped Aleesha into the waiting room, then ran out and quickly parked the car (no more tickets, uh-uh, not today). She re-entered the hospital, panting and out of breath, only to stop short when she realized just how /full/ this place was.

Every seat in the waiting room was taken. How she had managed to get Aleesha a seat was beyond her. Every single person was coughing, and more than half of them had smeared blood on their faces, their hands, their clothes. They were all pale, with dark circles under their eyes. Clearly, they were all sick with the same illness. It was like stepping into a zombie movie - every single head turned to stare at her as she stood, frozen, in the automatic doors. Oh wow, that wasn't creepy /at all/. She swallowed hard and forced herself to walk to the nurse's station, where a young woman with short blonde hair smiled a clearly forced smile. She looked exhausted, the poor dear. This must have been one hell of a day. "Um - my sister has been really sick. We think it's strep. She just coughed up a whole lot of blood - "

The nurse nodded and held out a clipboard with a form and a pen on it. "There's been a lot of that going around. Just fill out this form, and take a number, please. We'll get to her as soon as we can." She hesitated, her eyes sweeping around the room, then added softly, "I'm not going to lie. It's probably going to take a while. We're very short-handed today. A lot of the doctors and nurses are sick too."

Camryn nodded sympathetically - she wanted to give the girl a tight hug, or at least pat her on the shoulder, but she was afraid of contaminating her. She was already massively exposed; she didn't need to get sick from the one touch she got today. "Thank you. I hope things lighten up." She returned to Aleesha and squatted down in front of her, tilting her head back to gaze up at her weary, sickly sister. "I'm gonna need your help filling out this medical form..." She went through it slowly, as Aleesha seemed to be having a harder and harder time focusing on things. She looked like she was going to either faint or fall asleep sitting there. After about ten minutes, Camryn finally got it done and returned it to the nurse, who could barely manage a smile. She took a number from the ticket counter and nearly fainted herself - 336. A nurse pushed open the double doors and called out "Two-seventeen, please!" Oh Christ...this was going to take a while.

'Taking a while' was an understatement. The numbers dragged on - Camryn tried to focus, but finally she just gave up. She was waking from a light doze when the doors opened yet again and the nurse called out "Three-thirty-six!" She leaped to her feet, energy suddenly rushing through her, and pulled Aleesha to her feet. The nurse helped her into a wheelchair - good thing, as she could barely stand by now - and pushed her into a large room that looked suspiciously like a cafeteria. Curtains had been set up to divide the large room into smaller sections. The nurse pushed Aleesha into one of the sections, helped her onto the bed, and pulled the wheelchair out. "The doctor will be with you shortly." She turned and walked away, leaving the two sisters alone. This was odd. Usually the nurse would check her vitals and write down her symptoms before leaving. There wasn't any equipment or anything in here either; there was just the bed, which upon further inspection revealed itself to be an ambulance gurney. Wow. This place really was overcrowding...

After what seemed like hours, the doctor finally walked in. He was fairly young - perhaps thirty - and clean-shaven, with wavy brown hair trimmed and combed neatly. Even though the circles under his eyes betrayed his inherent exhaustion, he still looked fresh and energetic. "Ah, Mrs. Otis. Strep throat problems, eh?" She nodded, not even bothering to try to speak. It was a lost cause anyway. Camryn spoke in her stead. "Strep throat with a side of bleeding. She coughed up a lot of blood earlier this afternoon. We're worried. Is there anything you can do? Any medicine she can take?"

The doctor was already nodding. "It's been going around. Luckily for you, we can help with both the symptoms /and/ the bacteria itself. Here." He scribbled on his prescription tablet for almost a full minute before tearing the sheet off and handing it over. "Painkillers, vitamins, and, of course, antibiotics." He smiled and, without speaking another word, vanished through the curtain. Camryn read the neat handwriting (very unusual for a doctor) and shrugged. "Walmart Pharmacy is across the street. You can wait in the van, I'll grab the meds and some food for tonight, and then we'll just go home so you can rest. Are you feeling better?" Aleesha shook her head as she slid off the gurney; she wobbled for a bit, but she seemed to be doing all right on her own, provided they take it slowly. Camryn walked closer to her than she really should, her arm hovering around Aleesha's waist, ready to grab her should she stumble and/or fall. Oh god, this was going to take forever...

"Camryn!" The door next to her opened, and a doctor half-jogged out. He was tall, with dirty blonde (the kind that was light brown, not golden and filthy) hair cut almost too short and brown eyes. He wore square glasses with no frames; in the right light, he looked like he wasn't wearing glasses at all. His lab coat billowed around his knees; he wore a simple robin's egg blue polo and milk chocolate brown slacks with simple brown suede oxfords. He had a tan surprisingly dark for a man who was in a hospital all day, and even though his clothes, you could see the bulging muscles, proof that he did indeed work out more than just masturbating to pornography in his closet. How did Camryn know all this?

Simple.

This was Evan, her gentlemanly-to-a-fault boyfriend.

"Evan," she greeted simply; he wasn't comfortable with public displays of affection, especially not at work. Honestly, in the two years they'd been together, he still hadn't kissed her. He said he wanted it to be special - but that was surprisingly okay to Camryn. She didn't mind waiting. He seemed like a man worth waiting for. "It's insane in here today. Even the Walmart is packed tighter than a rubber band ball. What's going on?"

"There's something going around." He looked exhausted, like the other staff members. She had never seen him so worn out. "It seems to be strep - but it's not coming up in our tests." He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, searching for words. "I just received a call from the pharmacy. They're out of antibiotics and vitamins. They've got some painkillers left, but I suspect those will be gone just as quickly." He closed his eyes. "I don't know much about the situation at Walmart - "

"It's a madhouse," Camryn interrupted. "The store is packed with people. The shelves are being torn apart. I'm honestly afraid to go back, but I have to, for some food and Aleesha's medications."

Evan shot her a patient look, then continued, "Then it's just as bad as I feared." He wasn't much for modesty, but he didn't brag either. He simply stated things as fact. "I suggest you take Aleesha home and put her to bed. Take care of her. Make sure she gets plenty of fluids and natural vitamins. Keep her away from the children. In fact - you may need to quarantine the children as well. She has been sick for three days now, yes? If the children aren't sick by now, I suggest you keep them away from her. Let them spend a few days at their grandmother's, or perhaps stay with a friend. The International Apostolic Chapel is trying to organize a place for the children to stay while this runs its course, but with so many people sick, I don't know how they'll manage."

Camryn shook her head. "It sounds bad."

"You don't understand." He pulled a paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I did some research last night and made this to demonstrate to my director." It was a pie chart - divided into three large sections. He explained it to her as she examined the colorful image, trying hard to focus on his words and not think of, well, pie. "According to my calculations - and there is room for error, so please do not accept it as fact - about six thousand, six hundred people are ill. In a city of twenty thousand, that is...not catastrophic, but definitely a fiasco at best, disaster at worst. If we can contain it quickly and eradicate it before it infects others - there is a chance it won't spread and become a state-wide epidemic. However, I feel quite confident in saying that people who were infected with this virus traveled to other cities before the symptoms began to appear. We can quarantine a few people, but not nearly enough. Even if we had the room, there would always be people who were hiding their symptoms or protecting sick family and friends." His name was paged over the intercom, and he snatched the paper back and stuffed it into his pocket. "I must go. My patients need me. Get well quickly, Aleesha. Take care, Camryn." He swept away, hurrying as though his life depended on it. In this job - it probably did.

Camryn was silent on the drive home. She put Aleesha to bed with a glass of orange juice and a glass of water. She made a few phone calls and arranged for the children to stay elsewhere for the next week - thank god for BFFs and the boy scouts. Then, she sat down in her recliner and stared at her reflection in the television screen, allowing everything that had happened today to wash over her like a tsunami. It wasn't strep - that much was clear. If it was strep, it would have shown up on the tests. It mimicked the symptoms. It spread the same way. What could it be, though? She bit her lip, tempted to do a little research - but knowing Evan would not be happy if she did. He often told her "I'll stay out of your work if you stay out of mine. If I were to come to your office and start doing your research for you, would that be all right? Absolutely not. I would potentially ruin the case. Please respect my work, and respect me. Keep your research to legalities, and let me do the work I put in most of my youth to train for." He was very proud of his profession. He believed only a select few were chosen by a Higher Power (how he managed to speak those capital letters, she'd never know) to enter the medical field, and he did not allow anyone who did not have at least a bachelor's degree in nursing to tell him anything other than "I've cleaned up the poo".

But sometimes even the elite needed help from the uneducated masses.

With a foreboding feeling lurking around her shoulders like a gloomy gray scarf, she picked up the iPad and began to type in the Google search bar. Within three hours, her growing bad feeling had its opportunity to say "I told you so, I told you so, didn't I tell you so? Yes I did, I told you so." A local butcher had fallen severely ill only a few short hours after his weekly slaughter - people he came in contact with got sick fairly quickly. Well, she'd found a starting point, anyway - but where did the butcher get it from? The cow? Camryn frowned and shook her head at that thought. No way. The only thing that cows gave people was Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease - the human form of mad cow. Right? She set the iPad on her lap and leaned back, studying the ceiling as this new development tickled her brain. How did one go about researching diseases? It was easy to find out where pandemics start. In this modern age, even people's bowel movements were recorded on such places as Facebook, Twitter, and - god forbid - Instagram.

It couldn't be too hard to do this, right? She took a deep breath, then opened the new tab and began to type. It wasn't easy. Typing with fingers on a touch screen that was already greasy and sticky was difficult. Trying to find things out, especially if she didn't even know where to begin? Blech. Still, her job as a paralegal was to research things. She just had to pretend this was relevant to a case, that's all. She could do this. She was awesome. Awesome people could do this. She smiled at her own crazy attempts to motivate herself, and began to type furiously, clicking on links and skimming them before closing them and moving on to the next. It took a good fifteen minutes for her to find a good beginning source. But hey, at least she found one. Now that she had this, she could really get going. She quickly copied the URL onto a piece of paper and began to search again, this time in earnest. After all - her sister's life may depend on it.

It took almost two hours before she finally set the iPad down, closing her eyes to rest them. Okay, this wasn't getting her anywhere. She hadn't found a single blessed thing that could possibly point to a mutation of the mad cow prion. It was possible, yes, but had it actually happened? And even if it had - how? She didn't know anything about medicine and chemistry, hence why she was a paralegal and not a scientist. Perhaps the CDC site would have some more information. Wait, no - she'd already been there. With a heavy sigh, she set the iPad aside and pushed herself to her feet, absently wandering to the kitchen to toss her leftover Chinese food into the microwave. Gahh. She loved Chinese, but she hated reheating it. Leftovers - yuck-o-la. She shivered, but still pressed the shiny buttons on the microwave. She had to eat something. Aleesha was still asleep, or at least she assumed so - after all, she hadn't heard the woman move at all since her research started. She should go check - but no, she wasn't going to. If Aleesha was asleep, she wasn't going to risk waking her. After all, being a single mother had trained her to sleep lightly. The cries of children waking up from nightmares and into sopping wet beds was...definitely a good alarm clock, to say the least. Now if only they could put that sound into an actual clock - that would definitely be a good market for working moms. That was a sound /guaranteed/ to wake them up - or their money back. Limited time only, see store for details.

Bleep. Bleep. Bleep.

God, she hated that sound. She rolled her eyes and yanked the door open to end the infernal beeping, then yelped and jerked back. "Hot plate! Hot! Hot!" Oh right. Microwaves made things hot, /duhhh/. Seriously, how could she not remember that? Wasn't she the one constantly telling her nephew Jaxon to use a hot pad or a towel or something before grabbing food out of the microwave? How many times had she treated him for burns? Every single day, it seemed like. She shook her head and reached for the nearby oven mitt - perhaps this was overkill, but hey, that plate was HOT. She pulled it out and set it on the place-mat that was still there from lunch, grateful that she didn't have to dig it out of the laundry hamper for once. God. Aleesha was a great mother, but she had made the crucial mistake of putting Camryn and twelve-year-old Debra in charge of laundry to teach them both critical and valuable lessons about running a household. As a result, laundry only got done once a month - if they were lucky. Thank goodness, it seemed to have gotten done yesterday. ...maybe that was why there was a big pile of clothes on her bed last night. Huh. Why hadn't she thought of that, exactly? Tsk tsk. She rolled her eyes at her internal nagging and began to eat slowly, her mind still locked on what her research had found on the mad cow prion. Apparently it turned cows into zombies - poor things. It was definitely not something you wanted to get. It wasn't really anything you wanted to /see/ either. She really should have looked up a YouTube video of an infected cow to get a better idea of how the disease worked. No - she could do that later. That kind of video would probably leave a sour taste in her mouth and ruin this meal for her. She couldn't even watch Old Yeller without feeling sick. Why was she so sensitive to animals, more so than people? It really made no sense - but hey, her lot was not to question why, hers was but to do and die - err, figuratively speaking, of course. Blech, why did she read so much literature in high school? Oh right. The teacher told her to. She didn't want to fail - she was one of the few people who wanted to fail - but what the hell. She had read the books, written the essays and book reports, and taken the tests. It was miserable, it was hellish, it was occasionally quite interesting but usually not so - but it was worth it when she graduated with honors. She had missed valedictorian by two percent - on chemistry, no less. Her rival, a certain miss Kandi Kayne - yes that was her ACTUAL name, which helped people remember her birthday on Christmas Day - had beaten her by THAT MUCH. Funny - Kandi was now a stripper in Vegas, pulling in a few grand every night by shaking her tushy into businessmen's faces, and Camryn was here in Orbourne, sitting at a table, eating leftover Chinese and reminiscing about some of the worst years of her life.

Well, that was behind her now - it was best foot forward from here on out. She had just gotten a raise, thank god, so maybe with that and a few extra hours every week, she'd be able to put more money into this old house. The roof was dripping again; it definitely needed a repair or two. But now wasn't really a good time for that. The bill for visiting the hospital today was sure to be enormous. That took precedence right now. Aleesha had to get better - she would. If she didn't, that would leave the children in /her/ care, since their father died four years ago. She didn't know the last thing about being a mother. How could she work full time /and/ take care of four kids - and one a baby, no less?

The baby! She leaped to her feet and ran up the stairs two at a time, no longer caring if she woke Aleesha. She had completely forgotten about the baby - see, this was why she couldn't be a mother, damn it. She'd set the baby down while browsing clothes and then just walk away and leave it there. She burst through the door and skidded to a halt in front of the empty crib. Wait - empty? Oh crap. Oh s**t. Where was the baby? Where was it? She frantically searched the room, even digging through the closet and the box of baby clothes that still needed to be sorted and put away. Oh no. She had lost the baby. This was her first day in charge, and she had freaking lost the freaking baby.

Oh wait. No, she hadn't. Debra's friend Melissa was babysitting her today, to save up money for next year's prom.

Camryn sank to the floor and put her head in her hands, breathing slowly and carefully in a feeble attempt to counteract the sudden, horribly violent shaking that wracked her body. Oh wow. How could she have forgotten? Debra and Melissa came over earlier to pick up the little bundle of spitties and diapers - there had been the usual fussing over 'how cute is da baby? How cute is da baby? She is VEWY cute! Yes she is!', the usual 'ew, who picked this outfit? Let's go put her in something more...adorable', the usual 'Aunt Cam, the baby's diaper's full, can you change it this time so Melissa can learn how?' ...wait, why had she entrusted this fragile little life to this uneducated pre-teen again?

Oh right. So she could take a nap.

Funny thing, though. She'd never taken the nap, and now it was far too late in the day for her to even bother. It was - what, six-thirty already? Good Lord. Thank God the kids weren't coming home tonight, or she'd be screwed. Those kids were extremely fond of having their food ready and waiting for them when they burst through the door with their muddy feet and filthy hands. She didn't even /have/ food, let alone time to cook it and set it out for them. Oh well, they were definitely in good hands now. She knew the woman who was taking care of the two younger ones; she had taken care of Camryn and Aleesha multiple times when they were children. Yes, this woman was definitely capable of handling two rowdy children on a fine spring day.

Jesus. She needed to relax. She was so wound up over this whole thing..yes, she just needed to relax. She walked out of the room, pausing in front of Aleesha's door to peek through the crack. Yes, her sister was still sleeping soundly. There was an occasional snore, followed by a faint, pained whimper. Poor thing. Strep really sucked for people who had a deviated septum, whatever that was. She shook her head and made her way back downstairs, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and returning to the recliner. It was too early for bed - perhaps a movie to set her mind in order? Yeah. That sounded good. She still hadn't seen that Wreck-It Ralph movie that people were raving about so much. Sure, it was a kid's movie and she'd promised to watch it with them - but they weren't home now, were they? Besides, she had to make sure it was really child-friendly. After all, this was 2013 - you could no longer just send your kid to the movie theater and trust that whatever was playing, no matter what it was, was appropriate.

Camryn jerked awake as the birds began to chirp outside the slightly open window. What? Huh? What happened? She shook her head and stared at the askew iPad in her lap. Oh, she must have fallen asleep...dang it. She didn't remember half of the movie - there was something about video games, and a fat man trying to fit into a buff man's space suit or something...oh well, it wasn't the end of the world. She was going to be watching it witht he kids soon anyway, so what was the big deal?

It was two days later. It seemed as though Aleesha was getting better - her cough had completely disappeared, and she claimed her sore throat was much better. Camryn didn't even have to force her to eat anymore. That was the best part. She willingly came down the stairs, dressed in a clean robe after obviously taking a shower, and /asked/ for a bowl of soup and some crackers. It was amazing - the most amazing recovery she'd ever seen. That was why she was watching her so closely. In all the horror movies and books she'd ever fantasized about writing, nobody /ever/ got this well, this quickly without some kind of repurcussion. Perhaps she was turning into a werewolf or a vampire, and the illness was the warning stage - the only chance they would get to kill her before it was too late. Hmm. She'd be sleeping with a wooden stake under her pillow and a thick scarf around her neck tonight. Couldn't be too careful.

She walked into the Jaded Phoenix with a brooding expression, almost in a daze. The restaurant was empty and quiet, unusual for Friday, but what really surprised her was the state of the main room. The chairs were scattered about the room, some even toppled over. The tables were also strewn about. It almost looked as if a fight had broken out. That was extremely unusual, not only because Wong's was such a peaceful place, but also because Mrs Wong was very picky about the state of her rooms. If things weren't just so, she would come out and MAKE them just so. She walked up to the counter; it was greasy, and the glass on the case over the hot plate was streaked and foggy. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned for a few days. Odd. Mr Wong was standing at the counter, swaying slightly. He looked almost as dazed as she had been driving down here. His eyes were open to mere slits; he stared at a spot over her right shoulder, almost as if she wasn't there. She herself could barely focus, her mind dancing between the strangeness of Aleesha's illness and the alarming state of the restaurant. She stammered out her order, but Mr Wong did not reply. He didn't take her money - she set it on the counter and pushed it to him, before staring up at his pale face. He was normally pale, as he rarely got out, but today, he looked close to death. His normally smooth, neatly combed hair was rumpled and messy. There were dark circles under his eyes; had he not been sleeping well? She glanced over his shoulder - why was it so quiet back there? The back room was deathly quiet. Was there nobody back there?

That was when she noticed that hte lights were flickering madly in the back room - but not from on to off. They were off, and occasionally flickering on. None of the ovens were on, but all of the propane stoves were. She could hear the faint hissing. There was a large puddle of grease on the floor at Mr Wong's feet. It was dark on the pale floor, which was a little unusual but to be expected. He shuffled about the room, dumping food in the boxes and pushing them across the counter, then standing perfectly still (aside from the faint swaying) and staring directly into her eyes. She could help but shiver at that direct, very solid stare. Ew. Creepy. As she pulled the boxes toward her, the lights flickered on for a full two seconds, giving her more than enough time to see that what she'd thought was a puddle of grease was a pool of dark red blood - and a white hand, severed in the middle of the forearm, was lying in the heart of it, clearly the source of the puddle. It was palm up, with the fingers curled slightly; a golden ring was still firmly clinging to the ring finger. Was...was that Mrs Wong's hand? No, it couldn't be - but then, where was she? Where were their children? What had happened? Startled and disbelieving, she returned her gaze to Mr Wong's slanted black eyes. He stared back with a dull, black gaze - as if he himself believed this was nothing more than a dream, a horrible sick game, and that by refusing to play, he could free himself from the nightmare. She backed away, turning to leave. As she pushed open the door, and the bell fell from its perch to the floor with a clink, his voice suddenly echoed in the empty store. "Have nice day, girl on fire. Maybe see you soon." She glanced over her shoulder, staring at him in unmasked horror, then hurried out of the store.

Never had she been so glad to slide into the worn seat of the old minivan and firmly shut the creaky door.

Driving home was not an adventure. She did everything automatically, like a robot. There were cars, yes, but not nearly as many as the other day. She drove past the Walmart, where things had slowed down - it looked the same as every other day. The clinic was full, as usual, but if strep was really going around, then they had probably gotten sick from taking care of family members, like she had. So why hadn't she gotten sick? Not that she was complaining or anything - she was very, very glad she wasn't sick. But it was a little strange.

"I'm home." She didn't call; she just calmly announced it to the empty living room as she dropped her keys on the little table by the door rather than carrying them to her room. She had finally managed to snap out of her little reverie, and that was when she noticed something was wrong. The house just.../smelled/ wrong. It felt tense, like walking outside right before an enormous thunderstorm.

It was hot and sticky and very, very difficult to breathe. She set the bag of food down on the kitchen counter and looked around. "Leesh?" Nope, nobody here. Not in the kitchen, anyway. But someone had clearly been in here since she left. The refrigerator was still open, and all the food was either gone or scattered around, as though raccoons had swarmed the house. Packages were torn open, the contents half-gone. The carton of milk was lying in a puddle of orange juice, clearly empty. The only thing that was completely gone was the meat - every single piece of meat, real or processed, had vanished. Did raccoons eat meat? Maybe. She wasn't sure. "Leesh, is everything okay?"

There was a trail of...something that she really hoped wasn't poo...leading out of the kitchen and to the back stairs. She followed slowly, her heart sinking with every step as it led up the stairs and to the right - straight to baby Kate's room. Oh dear. She grabbed the fireplace poker - there for decoration purposes only now - and gripped it tightly as she slowly, carefully, walked up the stairs. She didn't make a single sound; all those years of sneaking out the back way had taught her which stairs squeaked, and this was just something that had stuck with her. Hey, she wasn't complaining. At least she was getting up the dang stairs without attracting any unnecessary attention, right?

She swallowed hard, leaning forward to listen at the crack of the door. It wasn't quiet. It wasn't loud. It was just...there. She could hear a faint whimper - baby Kate, sleeping perhaps? But she could also hear chewing. A quiet, repetitive chewing that you would expect from a cow chewing her cud. It smacked and crunched between teeth like a dog gobbling down a greasy slice of bacon, though. Something wasn't right. Aleesha never allowed food upstairs, and certainly not in the baby's room. And as Kate didn't even have teeth yet - something had to be wrong.

Camryn gently nudged the door open, stepping gingerly over the smeared brown streaks on the floor, and froze.

Aleesha was naked - her robe hung in tattered strips on her body. Her skin was pale and stretched tight over her bones; a few days of eating little couldn't possibly cause that degree of weight loss. She was pale, but the veins streaking up her back to her shoulders were dark blue and bulging, throbbing. Her hair was matted; there was part of an eggshell stuff in a clump of matted goo just above her ear. She was cowering on the ground, sitting back on her haunches, yet bending over something. Her shoulders moved as though her hands were working feverishly at something, but she couldn't see what. The crib was empty - that much she could see. And there was blood, blood everywhere - pooled on the ground, streaking down her side and splattered across the wall.

"Aleesha?"

"Yes?" Her voice was calm, unwavering. She didn't turn around; she didn't stop whatever she was doing. It was like she was just doing a jigsaw puzzle.

"What - what happened? Where's Kate?"

"Oh, Cammy." She laughed innocently, yet the sound send a chill down Camryn's spine, raising the hairs on her arm and neck. "I told you I was hungry. When you left, I just - I couldn't wait anymore. And the food in the fridge - it just wasn't enough, Cammy. Those steaks were good, but so small, so dry. There just wasn't anything to them." Her hands finally stopped moving, but only for a moment. Then her shoulders began to jerk for real; she continued speaking, but her voice was thick, as though she was speaking around a mouthful of marbles. "And then the baby started crying, and it was so /shrill/ - I had to make her stop screaming, Cammy. It made my head hurt so badly. So I made her stop. I figured out how to make her stop crying. Would you like to see? It's ingenius. I don't know why other mothers don't do this." She half turned so her face was partially showing, but it was hidden by her matted hair and the shadows from the lighted window. "Come and see, Cammy."

She couldn't help herself. Camryn did what she always screamed at the people in horror movies not to do. She set the poker down, leaning it carefully against the wall, and stepped forward.

The baby was certainly quiet, all right. Her jaw had been ripped from her skull and tenderly laid aside. Her baby soft skin that Camryn and Aleesha spent so many hours lovingly washing and rubbing baby oil into was gone. Each extremity had been oh-so-carefully severed from the main body with a knife; it was as if she was a turkey carved for the Thanksgiving feast. A pile of bones was piled by the foot of the crib; all the flesh was stripped from them, and they had been licked clean and pearly white. They were cracked and mottled, though - somehow, Camryn could imagine her sister holding the little bones to her mouth, cracking them merrily between her teeth and sucking out the

this is all i have so far.
again, i know it's not the best,
but it's just what i wrote last year.

i enjoyed writing it, and i can't wait to continue.
feel free to post now! =3

[BigGayFish]

Mother of God that is the best goddamn thing I have read in ages. Jesus please tell there's more to this.

[iPod Vixen]

Cynical Lad

Mother of God that is the best goddamn thing I have read in ages. Jesus please tell there's more to this.

Aww, thank you!

No, not yet. I'm going to be continuing it this November for NaNoWriMo though, so be prepared for an update =3

[iPod Vixen]

I reeeeeeally should edit this.

[terradi]

Wowsa. A long one. Okay. Because you've stated it's unedited I'm going to try and focus on the heart of the story rather than spelling or grammatical issues, unless they really drive me batty.

Here goes:

What is Patrick's rock? And Fox-and-Geese?

Camryn is babysitting for a friend? Or ... what? A bit more explanation right at the beginning as to how she has acquired her sitting duties would be good. It's clear later that she's living with Aleesha because her sister is sick, but a line right at the start would be good for clarity. This doesn't feel like it's something you're intending to keep as a mystery, just something that wasn't explained clearly in the beginning.

Given that Camryn is receiving mail from her ex-husband, it feels like this living arrangement must have been going on for a little while, but that could use explaining too.

The similarities between Aleesha and Marcus seem interesting. Zombie-apocalypse interesting. Not sure if that's where you're thinking of going, but that was my connection mentally. Didn't see that woven in at Wal-Mart though, which surprised me.

~

The trials and woes of heading off to Wal-Mart were a bit too much for me. But it's not the sort of thing I usually read, so that may be a part of it. Camryn's analysis of the rich guy and the assumption that everything he does is for show felt ... in-character to me, but also really biased. More a show of exactly how angry she was at not having money than necessarily a reflection on him. I did enjoy the Wongs.

~

Started reading the next section and I just lost interest. Watching someone get repeatedly beaten and crushed down just doesn't make for an enjoyable read to me. And at this point Camryn is just going through terrible thing after terrible thing without anything to really lighten the load. There's not a lot of humor to break it up.

Extremely worth noting, given what I saw at the end there is that I don't read horror. It's possible my disinterest is just because it's not my genre. Given that you've gotten one really positive reaction to what you have, I think you should seek more feedback from people who do know the genre and are going to be better able to judge it and react to it.

Good luck.