Outfoxed (The Fox Witch #1) - R.J. Blain Page 0,35
my stubborn house and its builders grew, and I wondered if Mother Nature would tolerate its defiance.
Not for long, I expected.
Only three days into the storm season, and I questioned if Tulsa would survive. Each year, the storms worsened, encroaching closer to the higher ground making up Tulsa’s strained heart. In time, everyone would live in shelters—or in Asylum. Those in Asylum would stand the highest chances of survival.
Over the winter and spring, I’d heard whispers they planned on creating an underground train network, one that would connect the Alley to the East, which in turn would connect to the South. The West could be reached through the South, although many feared the narrow boundary where the Alley and the South fought for dominance and tornados spawned in defiance of the magical borders dividing the United States.
The buried streets no longer did me any good, although I’d uncover the maintenance cover assuming I could find it. Without landmarks, that would be a challenge. Without cover, anyone nearby could observe my activities. Anyone wise would relocate closer to Inner Tulsa and hide in the back alleys, sheltering wherever they could in search of safety.
Dumpsters would become makeshift shelters, and more bodies would pile up in the streets. Sickness would take root, and Mother Nature wouldn’t need her storms to bring death to Tulsa.
The wise would leave or take shelter in Asylum.
I began the slow hike towards my new landlord’s home, expecting the worst.
Mother Nature, as always, delivered.
I found Carl’s body among the ruins of his house, some of which still stood. From the looks of him, the storm hadn’t wasted its time stealing the old man’s life, and I already missed our planned chats. It hadn’t been the first time I’d dealt with the bodies of those I’d known by name, but it was the first time I’d wanted to do anything like bury one of them.
I could make a pyre. A pyre was a lot like burial, except it served another purpose; the bodies wouldn’t try to kill us with disease after.
Damn it. The Alley should have been a refuge, not a cemetery.
I should have known better. The Alley already was a cemetery. Most of its residents just weren’t dead quite yet.
Sunday, May 3, 2043.
Tulsa, Oklahoma.
The Alley.
* * *
I left Carl long enough to return to my new home and retrieve the lease he’d given me. In life, he’d wanted me to have a home. In death, he’d made it mine, and I meant to keep that part of him around. Mourning over lost time wouldn’t do anyone any good, but I came close to crying, something I hadn’t done since abandoning home and choosing the streets over enslavement.
When I returned to his cold corpse, the police had arrived, and they took names, recorded the dead, and began the tedious process of notifying City Hall it had more names to register as deceased. I waited for a lull to approach one of the uniformed men. “Excuse me?”
He turned to me, and I regretted I’d bothered one of the old, tired men who’d seen too much death over the years. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
I supposed I looked old and tired, too, as most cops called me miss rather than ma’am. Sighing, I pointed at my landlord’s body. “His name’s Carl, and he was my landlord. I’d like to give him and the others a pyre.”
Requesting for the right to burn the dead startled the man into silence, but while he didn’t speak, he took my lease out of my hand and looked it over. He then, as I expected, checked Carl’s pockets for identification, which he found.
“There are three forms you need to fill out, ma’am. One will claim the leased property as yours, the second is a risk waiver stating you understand you’re responsible if you become sick from handling the dead, and the third is a burn permit for the pyre. It’ll allow you to burn as many bodies as you wish, and the permit will last for twenty-four hours.”
It didn’t take more than a few hours at most to light a pyre and pile the bodies on top of it.
At the cop’s announcement, other survivors came forward and indicated they would help my cause. They got the same lectures about the waiver and the burn permit, which they agreed to without hesitation. I understood that.
It didn’t matter if we caught something from the dead when we’d be joining them soon enough.