Squito

Chapter 1

June 3

                It was a hot and humid day in the small town of Aspen, Minnesota.  The old rusty owl thermometer on the side of Tilly Waybern’s white shed read ninety-seven degrees, and it was the birth of summer.  She wiped the sweat from her brow with a dirty wrist and sighed.  She cautiously walked over to her garden, trying not to step on her Springer Spaniel, Molly.  The playful pup was all but two this spring and still ran around frolicking like the young pup she was.  Tilly grabbed her small green garden rake with the worn handle and gently started to kneel in the fresh black dirt.  She was new to gardening, and although she did not know entirely what she was doing, she found it pleasant.  She played around in the dirt creating small rows to plant her corn.  She was told by her neighbor, Mr. Barns, that she should have planted her corn no later than Mother’s Day, and it should be “knee high by the fourth of July.”  She didn’t understand why it had to be sowed in so early, but she was prepared for her crop to fail and would be thankful if she could get an ear or two.

 Her small blue house was peeling its painted skin as it sat in a small clearing near a creek, with many trees surrounding it.  Trees watching her from their rooted stances, judging her for being divorced.  She shuddered as she thought about the terrible relationship she had been in not so long ago. It had been five years since she signed all the divorce paperwork and could move on with her life.  Most of her family and friends looked down on her for this and always mentioned how her ex-husband was such a great man. When she said her vows on her wedding day, she made a covenant with God, and it should not be broken, no matter what.  She did believe in God, and as it were, that was a good thing because her end was near.

Tilly started to sow in several seeds at a time, dropping them inside the rows she had created. Then she gracefully patted the surrounding dirt on top to hide her sacred kernels.  Molly pranced around and barked at a squirrel sassing her in a nearby tree.  Losing interest, she looked at Tilly and ran to her with great speed as if she were pretending to be a bull.  Tilly was not wearing red that day, thankfully.  Molly came so close to Tilly without slowing down that, for a moment, she thought that the speeding dog would run right into her.  However, at the last moment, Molly reared to the left and trampled in Tilly’s newly planted garden. 

“You little stinker!  Come back here!  Get out of there, you little weasel!”  Tilly yelled.

This did not appear to alter the dog’s attention as Molly continued to romp and dig in the dirt, causing Tilly to grimace and snarl.  Molly looked at her owner, appearing to smile, and then started to urinate right where Tilly had recently planted the carrots. Then Molly went on her merry way towards the creek for a cooling swim.

“That sounds like a nice and refreshing idea,”  Tilly said out loud to herself.  “I wouldn’t mind a dip either.  If you can’t beat them, join them, right?”

Tilly got up with slight difficulty; arthritis had settled in. She took several doses of ibuprofen daily and had grown accustomed to it.  Her stomach, however, did not, and she needed to drink a homemade concoction of ginger tea to help ease her stomach discomfort.  She winced as she pulled herself up and headed for her mud room.  She opened the screen door that squeaked with each use and stepped inside.  Her house was small and humble but cozy enough.  She stepped out of her rubber-soled shoes, painted with little umbrellas, and placed them on the oval rug.  She began to undress and dusted the dirt off as she went to her bedroom to find a swimsuit.  She tossed her dirt-covered overalls and light cotton blouse into the washer as she made her way to her dresser.  She pulled out her one piece; there is no such thing as a two-piece for a woman over thirty, she thought to herself, pulling the floral printed spandex over her slightly wrinkled skin.  The fabric felt snug, with some loose flab hanging gingerly over the sides.  She looked at herself in the mirror and let out a loud huff as she frowned and put her head down.

“Oh well, nobody to impress anyway.”  She said as she moved to the hall to grab a towel. 

Tilly meandered down the warn path and met back up with Molly, who was already splashing around in the water.  Although the creek was shallow, Tilly could wade in up to her waist and swim comfortably.  She shuddered as she made her first step into the chilly water, resting there for a brief time until she could get used to it.  She inhaled deeply and held her breath, diving under.  She produced a startled breath, turned on her back, floating her feet up to the surface. The sun-kissed her toes. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.

Molly started barking incessantly, and Tilly’s calm serenity was disturbed.  She opened one eye and peered at Molly.  Another squirrel, she thought to herself.  But Molly was acting abnormally upset for this to be a squirrel.  She heard a large splash, and Molly disappeared.  Panicked, Tilly jumped to her feet to rush over to where she last saw Molly. She frantically tried to move as fast as she could, but the water barrier gave resistance. Molly was the closest thing she had to a child or a friend. She felt a sharp pain on the back of her neck and a deep poke on her foot as she tripped and fell face-first straight into the water like a tree falling in the forest.  Tilly let out a loud cry.

She gulped in water with her mouth open and started to choke.  Her blue eyes opened wide beneath the creek water, and she let out another wail; this time, it was not heard.  Something inside her told her that this was the end. Some unseen circumstances on this hot summer day had led to her death.  But then she regained some sense and stood on her feet, whether in pain or not.  She pushed out from the water’s surface, shooting up like a rocket, and gasped for breath.  She started to choke as the water came pouring out of her mouth and her nose.  She couldn’t see clearly at first and be still in a panic, but she believed the worst of it was over.  Her breathing started to return to normal, and she made her way near the edge of the creek to land safety.  Molly was barking away again; although she could not see her, she at least knew she was safe.  She rolled her eyes, thinking that her friendly furry companion had almost been the death of her for no reason. 

Regaining her breath, she looked closer at her foot to see what had stabbed her.  Pulling her foot up, she noticed the pool of blood gushing out of a deep puncture wound. She grabbed her towel and tried to stop the bleeding, cleaning them up to get a better picture of what she may have stepped on.  She noticed again the pain in the back of her neck and placed her left hand there.  She was startled when she felt an enormous welt.  Was I bitten by something?  A fly, perhaps?  A fly doesn’t usually leave this large of a welt. It was the size of a small apple.  What kind of insect could cause that?  A bee?  A wasp?  She gently pressed the tender bump and felt a sticky wetness ooze out.    She would need to return to the house to look at it in the mirror.  She called for Molly to come and limped back to her house, holding the bloody red towel on her foot as best as she could.

Molly followed, happy as ever, with a wide grin. She was panting with her tongue hanging out and droplets of spittle falling to the ground.  Molly was wet from her swim, but this did not bother Tilly at the time.  She didn’t want whatever hurt her to hurt Molly.  If it injured her this badly, it could cut off one of Molly’s legs or worse.  She shuddered at the thought. 

“First thing is first, Molly, baby girl.  Mommy needs some antiseptic and some bandages.”  Tilly had grown accustomed to speaking to Molly as if she were a human.  Molly sometimes answered back, in the voice of Tilly, of course.  Talking with Molly caused the loneliness to be less severe.

Tilly opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small first aid kit.  She opened the plastic lid and searched for some antibiotic ointment and some large bandages.  She sat on the toilet and lifted her right leg up to get a better look and to clean the wound. She noticed that there was a small silver piece of something that was embedded in her skin, and she grabbed the tweezers.  She cringed as she began to pull on the silver piece and pulled it out.  It looked like a needle, a large silver needle.  But what would a needle be doing in the creek? And what type of needle was this large?  Some types of syringes are used for large farm animal tranquilizers. She pulled the needle-like item up and into the light above the sink to examine it more closely.  It was thicker at the base and thinner at the tip.  The needle appeared to have been broken off something.  But what? This puzzled and frightened her, so she decided she would try to do some research.  Unfortunately for Tilly, she would never have the chance. Tilly Waybern died two hours after she removed the strange object from her foot.