Last Licks

“The sheriff is really and truly coming?” The words came out in a rush, and a bit too loud. Camille bit her lip and tried again. “People have been talking all morning, saying the worst things, that half the nurses and aides are going to be fired, that we’re being taken over by the state . . .” She gulped a breath. “That the sheriff is coming over to close us down.”

Obviously the Bridgewater grapevine had been working full-blast, and the gossip hadn’t shrunk in the telling.

“I don’t think any of that is going to happen,” Sunny told the girl. “He needs to talk to some people, that’s all.”

But instead of calming down, the girl’s face only got scareder. “It’s me,” she whispered. “He’s coming to talk to me.”

“And why is that?” Sunny wanted to know.

“That night when everything happened, when Mr. Scatterwell passed,” Camille said, “it was my fault.”

Sunny stared. “Mr. Scatterwell was your fault?”

The girl quickly shook her head. “No, I mean the other patient, the one who got sick and messed the bed. He kept asking and begging for chocolate. I knew he wasn’t supposed to have any, but I felt sorry for him. So, on my break, I got a bar of chocolate.” A spasm of guilt went over Camille’s plain features. “I should have known there’d be trouble from the way he gobbled it up. But he looked so happy. But then a while later, it went right through him. He was so badly off. And now I hear people whispering about patients getting something they shouldn’t. It’s going to be me. I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

Sunny did her best to calm Camille without adding any more fodder to the gossip grapevine. “Mr. Barnstable has something he needs to discuss with Sheriff Nesbit, and since he’s laid up, the sheriff is coming here.” Camille nodded, but Sunny wasn’t sure how successful she’d been in soothing the girl’s jitters. She headed off to the coffee shop and told Will about her conversation with Camille.

“Poor kid,” he said. “She must be really scared about this job.” Then he grinned. “But she’s got a lot to learn if she thinks a visit from Frank Nesbit is the same as the Last Judgment.”

*

It seemed that they had finally stopped moving. Shadow crouched down, breathing deeply through an open mouth, testing the scents around him. He found an odd combination, catching country smells, grass, trees—and was that a squirrel?—but also the stink of smoke from the go-fast things that humans liked to ride around in. He’d encountered that mix of smells before in his wanderings, usually on heavily traveled roads that went through woods. If only he could look . . .

Instinctively, he pushed upward, aiming to hook his forepaws over the wall beside him. Then he’d be able to see where he was.

But he ducked back down at the sound of the door opening, staying frozen until it thumped shut. He listened carefully—yes, the scraping noises the Old One made as he walked were receding. When they got faint enough, Shadow boosted himself up for a look around.

Now everything made sense. He could see country-stuff all around, the source of the green smells he’d inhaled. But they were in the middle of one of those places where the humans left their go-fast things to rest. Even when there was a breeze, bad smells lingered.

Dropping down to the floor again, he pushed with his rear legs as hard as he could, surging upward, clearing the metal side, and then landing on that weird pebble-stuff that humans liked to surround their houses with.

Shadow hid behind the front wheel of the truck, watching the Old One open a door—a very big, heavy door. This wasn’t like the screen door at Sunny’s house, where he could climb up, hang on, and make it swing open. It would take patience and luck to get in.

Once the door swung closed, Shadow crept up to inspect it, scratching gently at the wood. No, it definitely wasn’t going to shift.

So he went onto the grass at the side of the door and hunkered down. His fur blended with the stone in the wall—at least to a casual glance. After a while, another go-fast thing appeared and rolled to a stop. A pair of two-legs got out—male and female. They were younger than the Old One, but older than Sunny. Shadow kept still until they had the big door open, then he darted in between their legs.

He found himself in a large, echoing space with many-many smells. Shadow got a strong whiff of the She he’d come to find—but that was mixed with the sick tomcat smell he’d also found on Sunny. Shadow crouched, forcing an angry hiss back down his throat.

No noise. Don’t make people look at you. Besides, if and when he had to deal with that male cat, he didn’t want any two-leg poking into the middle of things.

Shadow trotted along, getting more confused the more he sniffed. He kept catching traces of Old Ones—many Old Ones, more than he’d ever imagined could be in one place.