The Elect 9, part 3 of 4: Zombie Attack

January 13, 2016January 5, 2016M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Thursday night, something stirred at Latasha’s house.

“I swear there is something in the bushes.” One of the women was spooked, but she was the excitable type so the others paid scant attention. Latasha’s house was in a neighborhood where the houses ran close together. There were no side yards to speak of and little out front to the street. The back yard, though small, backed up to a wilderness area. It was not big enough to build a house, but nearly so. In the days before planned neighborhoods, it was simply a wasted area.

“I mean it,” the woman spoke again. “Listen.”

Miriam, the woman from the FBI picked up her sword and Anna, the one from Chinatown, New York City grabbed her long spear with the curved blade. “Arm up.” Miriam ordered the others.

“I don’t hear anything,” one said.

“Hush.” They sat in the stillness of the night and listened to the wind.

Out front, a van pulled up and the women there jumped to their feet. A dozen zombies came together over the rise, walked right around the van and headed toward the house. One woman ran along the side of the house and shouted. “Here they come.” She ran back to the front, thinking the ones out back might follow, but Miriam had another order and Anna echoed it.

“Stay where you are.”

Even as the ones out front began to fight and back up toward the front door, some thirty zombies came out of the back woods. Axes, swords and knives flew through the night air.

Latasha wanted to go out and help, but her three big brothers hovered around her and held her to the couch. Her mother ran upstairs, grabbed the little ones and locked the three of them in the bathroom. It was not much of a plan, but they hoped if the zombies succeeded and broke in, they might not go upstairs if they found what they wanted downstairs.

The women out front backed up to the stairs and porch. Most of the zombies were down, but there was a second wave of a dozen more coming and several of the women were scratched, one badly.

Out back, there was no second wave, but thirty on five was hardly fair odds. The women stopped ten of them. Anna stopping three by herself with her marvelous spear. But when they bunched up by the back door, that long spear was a hindrance. Anna took it apart to use the stick end in her left hand like a club and the sharp end in her right hand like an ax. The others formed a semi-circle until there seemed a momentary break as several of the zombies became entangled with each other. Miriam yelled, “Inside.”

All ten women made it in from the front and back, but all of them were injured. One had a broken arm. They had the doors barricaded with furniture and the windows covered well enough to be safe for the moment.

“We may have to wait out the night here,” Libby said as she came out from the kitchen with a dish of water. She began to clean their wounds. “We were attacked yesterday in daylight, but the sunlight did seem to confuse them some and slow them down, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Latasha said and she pushed her brother’s hands away. “Get up and help.” She yelled at her brothers and broke free to do so herself. Two of the brothers conceded the issue and went for the kitchen and the closet to fetch fresh water and to find bandages. One eventually tore up a bed sheet. Darren just plopped on the couch and patted his jacket.

“I’m not worried. I got things covered,” he said.

Several of the women looked at him and wondered what he was talking about, but Libby got it right away and smirked. “Guns don’t work on dead people,” she said. “You can empty your whole weapon and they will still keep coming.” That was not strictly true. Two lucky shots to both heart and head would stop one of these Frankenstein monsters, but the odds of that happening were astronomical.

Latasha came out with her ax. The zombies were pounding on the front door and the back, but Latasha was thinking. They were all thinking.

“No,” one woman answered the other’s whisper. “Zombies have an instinctive fear of fire. I thought of that too.” She looked up and finished the thought for everyone. “That they might try to set fire to the house.”

“We could try to set fire to some of them, like use it as a weapon against them” one of the brothers suggested.

“Not unless you plan to burn your own house down,” several women spoke.

One at a time, the women held the front and back doors to keep them closed while everyone tried to think of what to do next.

The Elect 9, part 2 of 4: Waiting

January 12, 2016January 4, 2016M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Katie Lockhart sat off to the side in the police room where she would not be in the way. She placed a gentle hand on her baby belly and smiled. Anna from New York and Miriam from the FBI came from opposite directions.

“You need to come with us,” Miriam said in her best FBI voice

“Come on,” Anna smiled and helped Katie to her feet.

“Over here,” Ellen Martin waved. “You have to see this.”

“See something?” Katie asked.

“Surprise!” The dirty old interview room was set up with chairs and the decorations said boy or girl? Lisa was there, with Emily, Latasha, Miss Libby, and all of the others. And there were presents and punch and plenty of treats with an over abundance of donuts.

###

Miss Libby Carter was from Arkadelphia, Arkansas. She was eighty-eight and a ball of fire as well as laughs. She took Latasha under her wing from the start and met with her every day when Latasha came home from school. They told Latasha’s mother she was tutoring Latasha in history, and her mother bought the story. Latasha did learn a lot of history, too, but mostly it came in the form of stories about growing up in the south and living through the depression, the World War and the booms and recessions since.

“Good times and bad,” Libby said. “And don’t swing that thing quite so far on your back swing. Follow through is important, but you might hit something unintended behind you if you are not careful.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Latasha called her ma’am.

“And it is Libby. I am your sister, not your ma’am,” Libby always responded.

“Yes, ma’am, Libby.”

They were out front on Wednesday, practicing as well as they could without arousing suspicion, when Libby shook her head sadly. “We need practice dummies,” she said.

“I have three older brothers,” Latasha suggested with a very broad grin.

“Your mother might not appreciate that,” Libby responded with a look at the house.

A van chose that afternoon to pull up across the street. It caught their attention. The back door opened and two zombies came out of the back.

“In daylight?” Libby reacted. The late afternoon sun was still up. “Hold still,” she told Latasha and stuck her hand out to be sure the youngster did not rush out to attack. “Do not waste your energy going to them. They will be here soon enough.” The van roared off, but it might have been just to the corner to watch or maybe to turn around.

“Pick your target and your time,” Libby instructed. The zombies came on to the front property, and Libby said, ‘Now.” A small knife flew from beneath the shawl the old woman wore against the cold. She had on about five layers of clothing. She was from Arkansas, what did she know about New Jersey in December? The small knife struck perfectly in one zombie’s heart. The zombie stopped moving and looked down as if somehow trying to judge what just happened. Libby moved, and Latasha moved at last.

Libby pulled her very long knife from somewhere in all those layers. Her stroke took the zombie’s head off without her getting a scratch. Latasha’s ax was more forcefully driven. It easily separated the head from the body, but sent it six feet in the air to bounce into the bushes. Then she got a small scratch on her upper arm as she fumbled at the button for the spike. She got it and quickly finished the job, but by then her mother came to the door.

“Latasha, what are you doing out there?” She sounded confused, upset, concerned, and like she did not believe what she just saw. Libby intercepted her.

“Just some practice dummies. We were talking the World War, you know bayonets and such. Hands on learning is always the best.” Libby caught Latasha’s mother by the elbow and gently directed her back toward the house. “Tasha tells me you were born in Shreveport.”

“Yes.” Tasha’s mother let the old lady lead her to the steps but her head remained turned and her eyes stayed on her baby and what certainly looked like two dead bodies.

“My connection to Shreveport was the race track. My husband used to love going to the Louisiana Downs.”

Latasha’s mother turned her head to the old woman. “My father used to work the stables every season. I grew up around those horses.”

“Of course, Shreveport was where we had to go for our liquor, ours being a dry county.”

“Why Ms Carter, I never would have guessed.” They went up the stairs to the porch and back inside.

“I have a great recipe and all you need is some cherry vanilla ice cream and some brandy.”

“Why Ms Carter!” The door closed.

Latasha cleaned her weapon and saw that Ms Carter’s long knife and little knife were already gone. Cleaned and returned to their place, she thought. She was going to have to work on her speed. Once her ax was clean and her spike clean, she returned the spike to its place inside the handle. She got out her cell, but she could not call right away. Her big brother Darren, the brother that was into so many of those drugs stepped out from the bushes, the severed head gripped by the hair.

“You dropped this,” he said and let it thump to the ground.

“Thanks,” she responded, but she did not have time for more. She hit the contacts button.

“Does Mama know you are killing people?”

“These were already dead,” Latasha held her phone tight.

“I can see that. Wonder how they managed that.” Darren gave her his best stare. It was the one that said she best not try to lie. “Nice ax. I think you better explain.”

“No.” Latasha got mad. Darren was not asking because he cared or was concerned about her. All he was thinking was how could he use this to his advantage and maybe squeeze money out of someone.

“I could beat it out of you,” he suggested.

“You would lose,” she responded and he rushed her. She put a stiff arm right in his chest and knocked him back on his butt, hard. Then she ignored him and made her call. Darren looked bewildered, especially when he heard what his sister said. “They know where I live.”

The Elect 9, Zombies at Home: part 1 of 4

January 11, 2016January 4, 2016M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Heinrich and Emily met most of the women at the gathering, though a few avoided him. They even had a pleasant conversation with Lisa, to Emily’s surprise. All Lisa said later was she was willing to trust Emily’s instincts. Latasha tagged along behind and police officer Rob Parker stayed right with them. When Emily finally got a plate and fixed herself something to eat, Heinrich said he ought to be going.

“I don’t want to be blamed for giving anyone indigestion,” he said.

“Henry?” Rob made the man pause.

“Heinrich actually. I have been Henry for a hundred years. I think it is time to go back to my given name.”

“Heinrich.” Rob tried the name.

“But tell me,” Heinrich was curious. “As a policeman, doesn’t a room full of women with deadly weapons bother you?”

“Yes, very much,” Rob admitted. “But I have been privy to a number of things Detectives Schromer and Mousad have been involved in and I have learned to trust them.”

“Yes,” Heinrich smiled again. “Faith, hope and love are the most important, but trust ranks right up there as well. I remember Father Martin saying that more than once.”

“But wait.” This time Emily stopped him. “You haven’t said anything about teaching me how to use this sword.”

“Mostly instinctive for you,” he said. “But I talked to your Captain Driver and he suggested Monday morning and Thursday after lunch in place of your freshman class would be acceptable. We can meet in the gymnasium and he asked if perhaps some of his other students might observe from time to time.”

Emily paused. “I was with you until the observed part.”

“Not interested in putting on a show?”

Emily shook her head. “I get stage fright.”

“Me, too.” Heinrich admitted.

“Me, too.” Latasha agreed.

************************

The Elect, Freshman Year is a serialized novel, much like a television show with weekly chapters being like weekly episodes. Chapter 9, like all chapters, will post in 4 short posts, Today, T, W, and Th. This all began in November 2015. You are welcome to click on the archives button (on the right side of the blog) and begin at the beginning with the 8 part “Pilot” and chapters 1-8 following through December and to the present. The reading is easy, hopefully enjoyable, and free.

Emily, a freshman at New Jersey State University in Trenton has learned that she is a one in a million warrior woman, first designed by the ancient goddesses to protect and defend the home and community when the men went off to hunt or to war. In Trenton, Emily learns there are two other elect in town, Detective Lisa Schromer, and Latasha, a high school freshman. Together, they form a team needed to take on the strange events happening on the university campus. Students are turning up murdered, and there is a contest going on to create super soldiers…and those soldiers are being tested on the hapless population…

Happy reading…

The Elect 8, part 4 of 4: Sisters

January 7, 2016December 3, 2015M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Sisters. Sisters, please pay attention.” The gray haired, somewhat plump woman at the podium had to be well beyond retirement age. “Ladies.” She pulled out a long, stiletto knife and banged the pommel on the podium. “I hate public speaking, but since I am the eldest, I got elected, again. That was a joke.” The room quieted slowly and the woman returned the knife and pulled out a flask. She sipped before she put it away. A few of the sisters giggled. “Truth is, I don’t get much practice public speaking in the nursing home.” That got the room dead quiet. “But that don’t make no never mind. My name is Libby Carter. You got nametags by the door?” Several women nodded.

There were in fact twenty-four visitors in the room, and with Lisa, Latasha and Emily, that made twenty-seven elect in one place at one time. Libby took note. “There have never been so many sisters gathered together before. I have met a few of you. Yes, hello Mildred.” The two old ladies waved to each other. “But there will be time for meet and greet after the meeting. The motel has catered lunch, sweets and coffee set up in the next room.”

“Decaf?”

“If you go that way, and hot water for tea if you have a mind.” Libby did not sound sure. She glanced at Lisa who simply nodded. “Yes, I see some of you have already found the coffee. Very good. But now we need to turn to what we are all doing here. Please pay attention.” Libby coughed, but only once. “First, let me ask how many of you have ever worked with a sister before?” Only four of the hands in the room went up. “Yes, hands up please.” A couple more hands went up. “All right. Hands down. Now the important question. How many of you have fought the undead before?”

“Undead?”

“Like zombies, vampires, Frankenstein type monsters.” Emily was surprised to see almost half of the hands go up. “Good, good. So we have some experience here. Now, I believe what we are dealing with is more the Frankenstein type. They have been revived?” It was a question directed at Lisa who stood. The old woman nodded and turned again to the group. “It would be best if Detective Schromer explained. Most of you have been in touch with Lisa over the past few years. I understand some of you are friends of friends, but here.” The old woman stepped aside, walked carefully down the two steps as if afraid she might break some bone on the way. She sat in the front row where a seat had been saved for her.

Lisa took the podium and glanced once at Emily and Latasha. They were seated, but on the platform where they could see all the faces in that room, and be seen. Latasha was still and quiet, sitting on her hands. She was not wiggling at all and that was very unusual. Emily was slouching a bit, fingering the sword in her lap.

“Thank you Libby. It is good to meet you all at last,” Lisa began. “I have corresponded with so many of you over the years. In many cases, one of you leading to another sister. I feel I know some of you well already.” She smiled and most of her audience returned the smile. A few looked like they were still considering the word, “undead” and did not like the sound of it. “Yes Libby,” Lisa nodded to the old woman now that she was seated. “This is the Frankenstein type, with a fluid reviving their system, an artificial heart pump and electrodes in the brain to stimulate certain synaptic pathways.”

“That sounds pretty sophisticated,” One woman spoke up. Another stood up.

“Ellen Martin, physics department, University of Toronto.” She introduced herself and waved the little sheet of information that had been provided. “I have seen no academic papers or anything else concerning anyone working on any such neural implants. Are we sure this technology is of earthly origin?”

“Katie?” Lisa looked to the back of the room.

“Katherine Lockhart, Washington. No indication yet that it is not.” The word came from a woman who was about thirty. Emily saw something military in the woman’s bearing despite the civilian clothes. It also appeared as if the woman might be pregnant.

A hand went up near the front, but the woman did not wait to speak. “Miriam, FBI,” That was her whole introduction. “Homeland Security is investigating certain national and international businesses that may be working on related projects, but you know how closed mouthed some business people are. Also certain governments.”

“Sisters.” Lisa spoke up so the room stilled. She then related their encounters thus far with the zombies, and she put some pictures from her laptop up on the screen. She praised Emily several times in the process, much to Emily’s embarrassment. She was very clear about the suspected military involvement, and she paused for a minute so their representative from the pentagon could update with, “No definitive evidence, yet.” By the time Lisa finished, a number of the women were looking at Emily and Latasha. Ashish appeared at the door but Lisa waved him off twice to get through her information. “The semester will be finished for Christmas in ten days. If an attack is going to happen, and given all we know we expect a major attack of some kind, it will likely be within the week.”

One mumbled she only had a week’s vacation. Lisa waved to Ashish, and spoke over the group, “Yes, detective?”

Ashish stuck his head in and smiled for the group. “Sorry to interrupt. You told me to tell you when that gentleman showed up. He is here.” Ashish left.

Lisa gripped the podium hard enough to break off two chunks of wood. Then she had to explain about the council. Most had never heard of such a thing. She had to tell them what Heinrich Schultz represented. Some looked nervous, but Emily stood and spoke for the first time. She had been thinking about it a lot over the past day.

“He is a nice man. As long as we are doing our job, he won’t interfere, and he may even help us.” That quieted the crowd, but then one woman had to stand up, as if something had been bothering her for some time. She spoke first to Emily who was still on her feet.

“I accept the good work you have reportedly done. I imagine your military training has helped a great deal. My concern is for the one beside you. How old are you, dear?”

“Sixteen.” That was not quite true. Latasha’s birthday was not until January. Latasha stood beside Emily and was actually an inch taller but looked terribly skinny and mostly like legs at the moment.

The woman turned to Lisa. “She is too young and should not be allowed to participate.”

“I can take care of myself,” Latasha shouted and made little fists.

The woman looked again at Latasha. “I am sure you can, but that isn’t the point, little firebrand.”

A rather small Asian woman in her forties stood and countered. “Anna, from New York. I say she needs to make her own decision. The sisters have never gathered like this before. In the old days it might have been her on her own facing this crisis alone.”

By the time Anna finished, Libby had stood and people got respectfully quiet. “Some of us could use a little firebrand,” she said with a broad smile for Latasha.

A woman in the middle who had her hand up the whole time finally spoke. “Do we need to talk to her parents and get a permission slip signed or something?”

“No,” Lisa shook her head in disbelief, but before she could say more, the first woman spoke again.

“Can we vote?” Lisa could hardly say no to that. To be fair, six of the women agreed that Latasha was too young, but the rest all decided that Latasha needed to make her own decision. Then there was the sound of cracking wood and the creak of nails pulled up as Lisa ripped the lid off the crate that had sat on the stage the whole time. When she pulled out a fire-red ax with a long curved blade, the room fell silent again.

“I see many of you brought your own weapons, but some arrived without for unavoidable airline reasons. We have ten of these. I understand Gertrude Pennyfeather of Boston has more money than she knows what to do with. She could not be here today, but she had these made some years ago when she was facing her own situation. She over-nighted them to us a week ago. Fortunately, her situation was resolved in another way, and these sat unused for all that time.” Lisa paused and touched a button on the inside of the handle. A spike sprang out of the bottom of the axe and it had a long, sharp wooden end. She pushed the button again and the spike withdrew. “Please pass this around and take one when we are done if you need it, but pay attention. Everyone needs to have her weapons at hand at all times from now on. You need to eat with it, sleep with it, and always have it on your person. We do not know when or where the attack may come even if we strongly assume somewhere on the university campus. The call will be short notice, and there is this. Some of you have not had to act in years, even decades. You are all elect, but even you can get rusty. I recommend you work out and hone your skills as much as you can before the time comes.”

That was all she could say apart from “Meeting dismissed.” Some of the women had already gotten up to examine the axes. Others had devolved into small group discussions. A few headed straight for the luncheon, or the women’s room. Latasha got an axe and cradled it like a baby.

“Come on,” Emily encouraged her and jumped off the platform to get to the door. Once in the main room where the motel had their luncheon laid out, buffet style, she went straight for Henry Schultz.

He saw her and smiled, and poked his finger toward Officer Rob Parker who stood beside him. “My guard,” he said when she got near. “To make sure I don’t cause any trouble.”

“You? Trouble?” She returned his smile.

Officer Parker was giggling about something. “Emily.” He acknowledged her, and it was not as Miss Hudson. “Henry, tell her the one about Napoleon.” He giggled again.

“Not for such company,” he started to shake his head before he changed his mind. “Well, the times.” He got no more out as Rob started to tell the story.

“He had to go all day in the middle of a battle. When he finally found an outhouse, the person who just left threw a bomb with a long fuse down the hole. I can just picture that.” Rob started to laugh quietly again.

“The muck probably saved his life.” Henry got another word in.

“He got his butt burned and his whole general staff was covered with the shit.” Rob pulled himself together. Emily smiled at the thought, because she knew something Rob Parker did not know—and Heinrich confirmed it.

“You had to be there.” Then he changed the subject. “Latasha. That is a fine looking weapon.” He held out his hand. Latasha was keeping one-step back behind Emily. She felt reluctant to give up the ax, but did so on Emily’s urging. He simply looked at it, touched his finger to the blade, found the spring-loaded spike right away and handed it back as he received it. “A bit too much machine work for my tastes, but it should serve you well if you take care of it.”

Latasha cradled it again, and smiled at the man for the first time.

Meanwhile, Emily spent the time attaching her sword to her belt so it could hang at her side. She found she had to move it a bit to the front because her hip made it stick out a little. When she finished, she surprised everyone. She stepped up and took Heinrich by the arm the way a granddaughter might take her grandfather by the arm. His smile broadened a bit, and it looked genuine. Lisa still felt very wary and concerned about the man as witnessed by the two blocks of wood ripped off the podium. Maybe Emily was ignorant, but she had decided she liked him and that his only intention was good.

The Elect 8, part 3 of 4: Strangers

January 6, 2016November 25, 2015M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Emily was called to come to the police station only a few days later. She wondered if they had discovered Swenson’s secret lab location but was told, “No,” and then she was told to bring her friends. While Emily and Maria waited outside the dorm for Jessica and Amina, Maria got to introduce her new roommate who was already moving things in. Apparently, Melissa’s Lisa trashed their old room and left early.

“Melissa got special permission to move in before the semester’s end,” Maria said.

“Tough luck,” Emily responded, but she smiled and said welcome when Melissa arrived. Melissa had her arms full of flowers, incense burners and such things. “What is with all this stuff?” Emily did not mean to be rude, but she was curious. They were not supposed to burn anything in their rooms.

“It is for my Abby,” Melissa said with a happy little face.

“Your Abby?” Emily felt confused. Was this some new college fad she missed out on?

“Her first roommate,” Maria explained.

“The one that threw her—that threw you out after only a week?”

Maria nodded. “I think she is building a shrine.”

Melissa dropped her little smile. “Abby did not throw me out. She wanted a single room and I volunteered to leave.”

“Didn’t get along?” Emily wondered.

“No. She is magnificent and perfect. Abby is a holy goddess. No one expects her to have to live with a plain mortal like me.” Melissa’s facial expression implied that Emily was just being stupid.

“The one that threw you out?” Emily felt really confused.

“Oh!” Melissa shook her head and turned to walk off. “You will learn. Abby is holy and perfect in every way. All praise to magnificent Abby.”

“That was weird.” Emily turned back to Maria as Jessica walked up. Maria simply shrugged and straightened her glasses.

“It seems I have a talent for picking weird roommates.”

“Are we ready?” Jessica asked when she came up with Amina following.

They walked, and neither Amina, Maria nor Emily spoke, but that was fine since Jessica was perfectly willing to do all the talking.

When they arrived, Amina, Jessica and Maria were hustled off to a room where there were several phones being manned by the police. Latasha and two friends Latasha introduced as Keisha and Janet were in there also talking over the phone. They had been given scripts. Ashish grabbed Emily and pulled her aside.

“It is probably coming down soon,” he said. “We got word that bodies have not been getting into the graves, of late. One of the local funeral directors brought in a medical donation form that looked suspicious. The man who delivered it stressed that the director was to instruct his staff to be sure they did not mention the donation of the body at the burial service. They were to go ahead and bury the empty casket as if it was the person, but he would actually be taking the donated body to Philadelphia. Not mentioning it was to avoid friction with some of the relatives who would not be pleased.”

“So they are calling around to see if the same thing is happening elsewhere?”

Ashish nodded. “We are getting confirmations from as far as Philadelphia and Camden both, and in between, and all in the last week.” Ashish opened the door. Lisa was on the phone.

“Well, I’m sorry you can’t make it…I understand…see you another time, goodbye.” She hung up and asked Ashish to bring Latasha in. He did, and then Lisa started to tell them what to expect.

At the same time, a man walked into the police station and up to the front desk. He had cut his hair and trimmed his beard to an acceptable level, and he dressed in a suit. No one would know him for the wild haired old geezer that ran the knife and T-shirt kiosk at the mall, though he was still old, and he carried a cane besides.

“Can I help you?” The officer at the desk was polite.

“Yes, Mitzy.” The man read the police officer’s nametag. “I am here to see Detective Lisa Schromer.”

“Let me see.” Mitzy picked up the phone. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, that’s alright. Just tell her Henry Schultz is here to see her,” the man paused and scratched his beard before his face lit up. “Never mind. I know where she is.” He started to walk into the back room. Mitzy jumped in front of him to block his way but Henry spoke again, softly.

“I am an old man with a cane. What can I do? Please, dear Mitzy. Just tell her I am here and on my way back. Hmm?”

Mitzy looked into the man’s eyes and let him through. She got Detective Schromer on the phone, told her, and then paused to scold herself. Why did she let that man back there? That went against all police protocol.

“Am I interrupting?” Henry stuck his head in the door even as Lisa hung up her phone. She stood and stepped back with enough force to knock over her chair. Latasha felt the sudden urge to fight or run away, and since she did not know which was best, she just froze where she was. Emily took a second to recognize the man, but when she did, she felt more like reacting the way Lisa reacted. She stayed where she was, but became very wary.

“What is a member of the council doing here?” Lisa asked.

“Ah, good. So that much is taken care of.” The man entered the room and set his cane by the door.

“What’s a council?” Latasha asked through gritted teeth.

“Who are you?” Emily asked over top.

“Heinrich Schultz, born in the year of our Lord, 1640 in the midst of a war. Mind if I sit down?” There were four chairs in the room. Detective Lisa pointed to the empty chair, picked up her own and let Latasha and Emily scoot around a bit so they could all face the man.

A police officer stuck his head in. Lisa yelled, “Get out,” and the head vanished.

“The council is a very small collection of men that meet once every fifty years, gathering from all over the world. On average, we live to be about five hundred if we are not killed. Mostly we are killed. I was almost killed a dozen times or more before the Hundred Years War was over. You see, unlike the elect, we are strictly mortal and human without any extraordinary power unless we are activated.”

“You have been activated.” Emily said, but it was a question.

The man nodded. “Often it is because one of the elect has gone rogue. You see, when the goddesses made you lot, the gods thought that was a good thing, but they wanted to be sure there was a safety valve, just in case. Then a few other things were added to our charge that the goddesses did not think of.”

“Man, you are old,” Latasha finally unclenched her teeth.

“Yes, and not saddled with a wife and children. None of us are. We need to remain free agents just in case. I have lived my whole life just in case.”

“But why are you here?” Lisa did not let go of her original question, but again Emily spoke over top.

“Rogue elect?”

Heinrich shrugged. “It happens. The temptations in this world are beyond counting, Father Martin used to say. Only one was born pure and managed an entire lifetime without sin. Of course, it might also be because of a witch or some such thing and not one of you elect at all.”

“What?” Emily and Latasha both asked.

Again, Heinrich nodded. “That was one of the things your ladies forgot. When active, we are far more resistant to all forms of magic than you lot.”

“But why are you here?” Lisa asked a third time.

Heinrich ran his fingers across the table before he spoke. “The truth is, we are not omniscient. All I can say is no member of the council has ever been activated without good cause. That reason will present itself in due time. Meanwhile, I have caught wind of what you are planning. That alone may be the reason. It has never been done before on the scale you are contemplating, not in the history of the world.” He sighed and looked around the room. “It is this age. Everything has to move. Nothing stands still anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Latasha was curious now.

Lisa was going to answer, but Heinrich held up his hand and spoke to reassure Lisa that he indeed knew what she had planned. “There are three of you in this one small city, the odds of which are beyond calculating. There were three in London at the height of the British Empire, you know, Queen Victoria, Jack the Ripper and all that. Three was rare, but at the time, London was one of the biggest cities in the world and while they knew each other, they lived so far apart and traveled in such different circles they rarely interacted. The three of you here in this small and rather insignificant city defies reason.”

“I’m not native to Trenton,” Emily said.

“None of us are. Hush,” Lisa quieted her to listen.

Heinrich continued. “There were three elect who met in Saint Louis in 1890. There were three who met in Boston at the end of the first World War. There were four who met in Baltimore just before Pearl Harbor. But here you have invited how many?”

“Twenty confirmed,” Lisa said.

The man stood suddenly, but his demeanor remained calm and kindly. “That makes twenty three at a minimum. Such has never happened in all of history. It may be that I am simply a precaution.” He shrugged and turned to leave.

“Thank you for the sword,” Emily said, not wanting to appear ungrateful for such a fine weapon.

“I made it myself by hand as all of the best swords are made. May it give you good service.” The man smiled for her.

“Could you teach me how to use it?”

The man paused before he smiled again. “It would be my pleasure.” He picked up his cane and said one last thing to the three. “See you around.” When he stepped out there were two officers there to escort him all the way out. “Thank you for your kindness to this old man,” they heard him say.

“Teach you the sword?” Latasha spoke almost before it was safe. “I mean he seems nice, but kind of creepy. Didn’t you feel that way?”

Emily explained. “He is going to be watching us. We might as well keep him in a place where we can also watch him.”

“No, I got that part,” Lisa said. “Good thinking. But whenever a member of the council shows up, most of the time it means something bad for us or one of us. All I can say is I guess the three of us passed his tests or standards or whatever. Otherwise I don’t think he would have been so up front and honest with us.”

“So, twenty three?” Emily was already on a different subject.

“Tomorrow night. Bring your handmade sword.”

The Elect 8, part 2 of 4: The Science Building

January 5, 2016November 25, 2015M G Kizzia Leave a comment

It was the end of the week, Friday after supper when Emily and Pierce sat quietly in the student center with their lattes. They were laughing and content to let the evening time drift by as they enjoyed each other’s company. Naturally, a young man, a total stranger chose that moment to burst into the room. He came right to their table and looked squarely at Emily as he spoke.

“There is trouble at the science building. Help.”

Pierce tenderly touched Emily’s arm. “Where else?” Emily shrugged. The science building did seem to be the center of things. She got up and Pierce followed. When they got close, they both realized that it was more than just trouble.

“Zombies in the building,” Emily shouted and ran. She did not have her sword with her because thus far, she had refused to carry it around the campus, but she did have her knife. Pierce was right on her heels as they burst into the building.

The lab room Emily had blown up was empty, but there was a zombie in the downstairs hall and a body on the floor in the distance. Emily started down that hall.

“Zimmer and Swenson.” Pierce pointed to the stairs.

Damn! Emily joined him in taking two stairs at a time. There was not anything she could do for the dead student in the downstairs hall, but if Swenson and Zimmer were working late and under attack, she had to know and help if she could.

There were two zombies in the upper hall, one outside Zimmer’s office and one banging on Swenson’s door. Emily went for the closer one outside Swenson’s door first. Even as she kicked the zombie to the ground, Zimmer came bounding out of his office with a fire extinguisher. Emily paused to watch. The zombie backed away from the cold. But even sprayed directly, it did not stop the monster. The spray only slowed it.

Pierce was right there with that long knife of his. He went for the heart first, and then cut the head off rather sloppily.

Emily felt one hand creep over her shoulder while the other reached around for her chin. One swift pull and she had no doubt her neck would snap. She caught the hand just in time and all but tore that arm out of its socket to break free. Then her knife cut the head while the zombie’s free hand continued to claw at her. The zombie did not stop completely until she pierced the heart.

Emily pulled out her knife and cleaned it on the zombie’s burial clothes. She had scratches on her arm and shoulder. Once again, Pierce did not have a mark on him. He turned to her.

“I’ve got the back stairs.”

“Up to the third floor first,” Emily shot back before she raced up the front stairs. She paused at the door that gave access to the big, flat roof, but it was locked and looked undisturbed. She started down the upper hall then, but that hall appeared zombie free. She and Pierce split again and raced back down to the ground floor. They were gone. Pierce thought he saw one in the distance still shuffling off. Emily, not so sure, held on to him.

“We need to check for damage.”

“Basement,” Pierce said, and they ran. Emily let him go down first. She was not a fan of dark holes in the ground.

“I don’t see any sign of them,” Pierce reported when he got to the floor. “I don’t know if they came down here.”

“Good, let’s go up,” Emily suggested.

“Wait a minute.” Pierce began to open doors and Emily got treated to views of the furnace, the piping, HVAC ducts and electrical boards. She saw a mop closet as well, and Emily called that a real treat, since the mop head looked like it had not been changed since the school was built, whenever that was.

“Can we go now?”

“Wait. There is supposed to be an office room down here with, you know, posted cleaning schedules and stuff.” Emily stayed on his heels and Pierce grinned. “You know, they say there is another basement below this one, built as a bomb shelter during the cold war. There are also sub-basements below the library and the main classroom building, Gorgon Hall, and they say there are underground tunnels connecting them all.”

Emily slapped his shoulder. “Stop it. You’re spooking me out.”

Pierce laughed. He knew what he was doing. He opened the office door and they both found the night janitor in his chair, his neck neatly broken. As if on cue, they heard a low moan that slowly rose in pitch to a shrill scream. It sounded to Emily that it was indeed coming from beneath her feet, but Pierce just laughed.

“I have heard that. It is just the steam heat in Gorgon Hall, which was what prompted me to ask about the tunnels. Do not worry, they are all sealed off with great big slabs of concrete. The zombies could not travel that way, if that is what you’re thinking.”

Emily nodded. All she was honestly thinking at the moment was how fast she could get out of there.

Counting the janitor, there were three dead in the building. Zimmer was the only survivor until Emily had a thought and rushed back up to the second floor. Zimmer sat quietly at his desk, back at work, and he yelled at them for the interruption. Emily closed the man’s door with apologies and stepped over to kick open Swenson’s door.

Professor Swenson’s office was a wreck. Papers were everywhere and her furniture and desk were turned over. Her computer had been smashed, but the internals of the desktop had been ripped out. No one could guess where they went.

“I don’t understand,” Emily admitted. “We stopped the zombie before it got into Professor Swenson’s room. Who did this?” Before she could think of an answer, she heard a knock on the other side of the wall. “Hilde’s office.”

Morgan Granger was in there curled up in a ball in the corner. “It’s safe now,” Emily told the woman, but it did not seem that Ms Granger could focus. She imagined at least that Granger’s name could come off the suspect list as she stood and took a step back to give Pierce some room.

Pierce bent down to Ms Granger and was very gentle. “We can go out now. It is safe,” he whispered, and she may have recognized him. When he held out his hand, she was willing to take it. They rose slowly and Pierce slipped his arm around the woman. “We will be fine,” he said aloud, and Emily nodded in agreement. “Everything will be just fine now,” Pierce said, as he escorted the woman to the stairs.

Emily thought, yeah, be nice to the biology witch but spook me out in the basement.

By the time Lisa arrived, the ambulances were on their second trip, picking up the dead and re-dead. The police were down to two out front and two out back with the building cleared, except perhaps for Doctor Zimmer. Maria came up with Julie Tam as Emily explained.

“But the zombie never got into Swenson’s room, so someone must have smashed everything up earlier and hoped the zombie attack might cover their tracks.”

Lisa nodded as Julie said one word. “Confirmed.”

Lisa explained in return. “We have not even come close to analyzing that complex green goop that is being pumped through these zombie’s bodies.”

“That is what is bringing them to life,” Julie interrupted before Lisa went on.

“But we have identified a few of the ingredients and two are rare and hard to get, including a controlled substance. Julie did most of the detective work on this one, and I called our sister at the Pentagon. She is still working, but she found several memos and now Julie has confirmed from her sources that these chemicals were recently shipped here.”

“To Professor Swenson,” Maria guessed and Lisa nodded her assent.

“So I was right,” Emily mused. “She trashed her own office, ripped out her vital notes and computer files and then sent the zombies to make it look like they did it. She must have known you were getting close.”

“Very good, Sherlock,” Lisa said. “Now if we could just find where her Frankenstein laboratory is, we could end this.”

“What do you want us to do?” Maria volunteered.

“Just eyes and ears,” Lisa said. “But I think it is time to gather the troops.”

The Elect 8, The Gathering: part 1 of 4

January 4, 2016November 24, 2015M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The house could only be called a mansion. The beautiful lawn and sculpted gardens with several fountains took up the hillside and were interrupted only by the long driveway. Inside, one room had three walls covered with books. The fourth wall had a large opening that led to a glassed in porch with a view of the equally impressive back yard. A small and frail looking old woman sat at the oversized mahogany desk that dominated the center of the room. She had an old landline phone in her hand.

“Yes, dear. But you must remind the sisters that we are not invulnerable. Yes, dear. Very good dear. Yes, they are just bringing them in now.” Two men in overalls carried a big wooden box into the room and set it in the center of the floor. One man struggled with a crowbar to open the lid.

“No. I don’t mind at all. I will be happy to send them.” The old woman waved to the middle aged woman who stood by the door. The middle aged woman got the idea, stepped up and pulled something out of the box to bring to the old woman who continued to talk on the phone. “No dear, I have no need for them. They are just collecting dust in the attic.”

The middle aged woman held up the item and twirled it so the older one could get a good look. The old woman nodded, but only spoke into the phone. “Yes, they appear to be in like-new condition.” The old woman reached for the item. “Yes, good-bye.” She hung up

With the item in old woman’s lap, the middle aged woman stepped up and pulled the old woman’s wheel chair from behind the desk. The old woman held a fire-red axe with a large, curved, and very sharp looking blade. She heaved it and the workmen went slack-jawed when the axe sank a full inch into the solid plaster and wood covered wall.

“Yes, that will do nicely,” the old woman said.

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The Elect 7, part 4 of 4: Party

December 31, 2015November 23, 2015M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Emily spent Saturday tossing the football around the back yard with her brothers. She watched football with her father, and went shopping with her mother, which was not quite the torture she thought it would be. By suppertime, she needed a family break. She decided things at home were best taken in small doses.

Saturday night, Susan had that party at her mansion of a house. Emily knew about half of the people there, and did her best to be friendly, but it was hard. The music pounded, and the drugs and drinking were everywhere. She got tired of explaining that New Jersey State was primarily a school for applied sciences like engineering and nursing, and things like architecture, archaeology and antiquities. The Institute of Technology was in Newark, and the University of New Jersey was in New Brunswick. It was called Rutgers. Maybe they heard of it? She met one young man who knew New Jersey State had an excellent engineering school, but he was so drunk he could not remember anything else about it.

Emily noticed Susan and her friends were at their mindless best that night. Susan’s parents were down the street at a party of their own and not expected back before one or two. That left Susan and her friends the run of the place, though Emily noticed they spent most of the time going in and out of the upstairs bedrooms with one boy or another. She hardly knew what to think about that.

“You’re not drinking,” It was Chuck, the high school quarterback who barely made the squad at Miami of Ohio. Emily felt embarrassed as Chuck handed her a tall glass. She remembered a time in the tenth grade when she went to bed at night wishing the boy would talk to her. “Drink up,” he encouraged her and stepped away. Red flags went up in Emily’s mind, but she stuffed them back down. She smelled the alcohol in the drink and put the glass on the coffee table. She was not interested in getting drunk, and instead walked out on to the deck for some fresh air.

It was a nice night and quiet on the deck. She checked her phone, but not a peep from Lisa, Jessica, Maria, Amina—no one, not even Pierce. She sighed and enjoyed the cool air for a time.

Ten minutes later, Chuck returned, or rather, found her outside. “All drunk up?” He asked. Emily nodded. She certainly drank all she was going to drink. “Good,” Chuck smiled. “So let’s get to bed before you start getting it off right here.” He grabbed Emily’s hand. She grabbed his wrist hard enough to make him squint and was not moving.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s okay, baby. I know what you are feeling and I promise to satisfy those feelings to the best of my ability.”

Emily did not need to have it spelled out for her. “What was in the drink?”

Chuck shrugged. “You didn’t drink it.” He was not slow either. “Peters brought it.”

“Peters?”

Chuck made a move to grab her, but Emily was faster. Her hand let go of Chuck’s wrist and caught him around the throat, and she squeezed just a little. “Don’t tempt me to rip your throat out.” Chuck put his hands up and tried to breathe while Emily got out her phone and dialed 9-1-1. She pulled her hand sharply from Chuck’s throat and he fell to his knees, hacking and coughing.

Emily gave the address, said the words “multiple rapes” and threatened if they did not send at least three cars, stat. Then she had to jump as Chuck decided to run. Emily caught his shirt and flung him into the bushes. When she extracted him from the broken branches, she said one word, “Peters.” She placed her hand on his shoulder as a reminder and she walked him back inside.

“I swear, I didn’t do anyone. You were the only one I was interested in. I swear.” Chuck was babbling when he pointed to Peters. Emily let go of Chuck and tackled the boy hard enough to slam his face on the floor. She felt afraid she might have broken whatever she expected to find, but in rifling through Peters’ jacket pockets, she found the vial. She pulled it out only to have her hand kicked by one of the other boys. The vial flew. Emily flew after it and grabbed a metal nut dish on the way. She caught the vial in the dish. It cracked near the top, but she figured between what stayed in the vial and what seeped into the dish there would be plenty to analyze.

Then the boys were on her. She kicked the first in the stomach and sent him sprawling back over the couch. He took the couch with him. The second found his legs swept and he landed hard and hit his head on the hardwood floor. The third paused as Emily turned and growled at him. He backed up, and all that time Emily held the nut dish perfectly stable. Then she said something that got Chuck and the others moving in the right direction.

“If you don’t want to take the blame for this, you better hold Peters for the police.”

Emily spent several hours at the police station under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Reese Anthony. Emily could not believe that Lieutenant Anthony treated her like she was the one who did something wrong. She understood that she was not from the richy-rich side of town, but still. She just tried to help, and stop a horrendous crime. She learned a valuable lesson, what maybe Detective Lisa tried to tell her. Some police foolishly resented any “civilian” help, as if they are the only ones in the world worthy of upholding the law. Ordinary citizens are nothing but dirty vigilantes. Calls to Trenton and to a woman named Miriam at the FBI settled most of the questions the police had for her, even if Emily was at a loss as to what the FBI might have said; but the whole police experience left a bad taste in her mouth.

As she walked out of the station with her mother, Emily saw Lieutenant Anthony pick up some papers and ignore her. She just could not stop her tongue. “Nice to meet you, jerk!” The man looked up briefly, though not in Emily’s direction, before he went right back to his papers. He pretended to be unfazed by Emily’s words, but Emily knew. Her mother knew, too. She scolded Emily all the way to the car.

Emily had her mother drive by the hospital on the way home. There was little to report. Susan and the others were just coming out of it. Susan’s parents and the other parents had no idea what this was all about, being as clueless as their daughters. The victims had no memory of what happened, but by then there was plenty of evidence of rape and DNA evidence besides to pin to the boys involved.

Emily was sure the local police, lieutenant dipshit would lose her carefully saved samples of the drug and she was equally certain that the prosecutors would screw up and the rich boys would get off with a mere slap on the wrist, but she could not worry about that. She was tired and needed her sleep.

Come Sunday Emily was glad to be going back to her nice cooperative zombies.

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The Elect 7, part 3 of 4: Friends

December 30, 2015November 23, 2015M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Emily and Susan went to the mall Friday afternoon. Susan complained the whole time about Ohio State, even while she praised the school. She did not have much interest in New Jersey State, which she called a poor excuse for a university. “I mean, IA football. What is that? But I suppose they have a good nursing school and that is what you are interested in, right?”

Susan was good most of the time, though as clueless about life as ever. Emily realized that was why she stopped hanging out with Susan after the tenth grade. She gave up all her sports in the ninth grade, except soccer, in order to hang with the popular girls. Of course, she did not fit into the right social set to make the cheerleader squad, and her grades were altogether too good besides, but it was a phase she went through. It was a stupid phase, she thought. She realized by the time eleventh grade started if she stayed with the popular girls what little brains she had would surely leak out on to the floor at some party and she would become as clueless as the rest. She moved into ROTC and on to another set of friends. She imagined if she and Susan had not been close since kindergarten, they would have long since drifted apart.

“So, I’m having a party Saturday night. You will be there,” Susan said.

“What?” Emily was focused on something that looked strange, and it took her a minute to figure it out. “Oh, yes,” she said as she stood up in time to bump a young man to the ground. He lost his grip on the money and it spread all over the floor. The man behind took a swing at her head, but she ducked, grabbed the man by his baggy pants and threw him on top of the first, his pants now around his ankles so he could not get up quickly.

Emily wiped the corner of her mouth and retook her seat. She had a burger and fries to finish. “You were saying, about a party?” Two men rushed up from the burger place, followed by mall security. Emily imagined the police would be there soon enough, and did not give the incident a second thought.

Susan grinned. “I see you have expanded your beating up the boys repertoire.”

“Oh no,” Emily insisted. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering.”

###

By the time Friday evening came, Emily needed a clueless break. She called Molly and met her and Cathy at the bowling alley. They got lane seventeen and talked about something other than accessories. Molly was studying business at the community college. Cathy was working the front desk at her dad’s car dealership. Cathy looked bigger than Emily remembered, but maybe she put on some weight. It was hard to tell since the girl had always been big.

They were laughing when Emily caught a glimpse of Brad. She tried to hide, but Brad came straight to her like the proverbial moth to the flame. She and Brad broke up senior year after the prom. She had to hurt him, physically, to get him to leave her alone. Obviously, she could not hurt his heart since he did not have one. It was another exercise in stupidity on her part, Emily thought. It was another memory to be ashamed of, to think there was anything she saw in Brad in the first place.

“Hey girls,” Duncan said it. He was right there with Brad and Hoover, as expected. The way Duncan said it, though, was something like middle school. It might have been, “Hey, look! Girls!”

“Duncan.” Emily acknowledged the boy, and then she paused. She smelled something as the boys came near. It was not zombies, but it was like death. It smelled demonic or something, definitely not normal. She briefly wondered where Amina might be. She imagined Amina could identify it.

“What are you guys up to?” Molly asked.

“Nothin’,” Hoover said, at his verbal best.

“Elected bitch,” Brad looked straight at Emily. “There is nothing special about you. You are just fooling yourself.” Duncan and Hoover both giggled. There was no other word to describe it.

“What?” Cathy spouted, though she was normally quiet when boys were around. “Get rude much?” Emily felt grateful for the defense, but wondered how Brad could know anything about her being one of the elect. He was certainly no seer. He was a heartless jerk.

“Go away,” Molly said sharply. “We were having fun before you showed up.”

Brad stared at Emily. “So, beat anyone up at college yet?”

Emily stared right back. “Yeah, one Mister Hilde, two football players and three geeks.” Her eyes took in Duncan and Hoover. “Oh, and three zombies if you must know, but I had to make them dead again.”

Duncan laughed. Hoover did not find it funny. Brad hardly flinched before he spoke again. “So I think you will get your butt kicked soon enough and see how you like it, bitch.” Brad looked once around the bowling alley and waved to the others. “Come on.” They exited out the side door.

“What creeps!” Molly came up beside Emily.

“What got into them?” Cathy asked.

Emily said nothing. It was her turn. She picked up her bowling ball and heaved it underhand. To be fair it bounced once before it broke through the back wall of the alley. Molly had to go to the desk.

“Chris, return on number seventeen,” the speakers spouted. Emily and Cathy watched as the young man wandered down alley seventeen. When he got close, they heard his words.

“Fuckin’-A”

The Elect 7, part 2 of 4: Family

December 29, 2015November 23, 2015M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Emily went home for Thanksgiving. She flew out on Wednesday and did not have to be back until Sunday night. That gave her four whole days where she did not have to think about anything. Of course she thought about everything that whole time.

Emily hugged her mother, her father, her younger brother and her mother again. She took her bags upstairs but Mother called up before she could unpack a thing. There were messages and Emily was expected to go back down to listen since Mother was not the type to yell.

“Susan called and asked if you had beaten up anyone at college yet.”

Susan was from the rich, cheerleader side of town. She was a friend, but had a touch of acid in her personality. “I’ll call her later.”

“Brad called and said he wants to see you.”

Brad was the ex-boyfriend. Emily did not have to think. “No.”

“I agree,” Mother said and crumpled that piece of paper. “Molly called to say hi and welcome home.”

Emily smiled. Molly, her best bud, represented the working class side of town. Most families in town were working class, including hers. “Every corner heard from,” Emily said, and she went happily back upstairs, shut her door, plopped down on her bed and cried.

When Thanksgiving Day arrived, and dinner was on the table, Emily’s father started right in with, “so tell us about school.” She hardly knew where to begin. Her mother was against ROTC and everything military. Her father urged her to study something practical like economics, but conceded that nursing would be acceptable. Of course, he said there were good nursing schools close to home.

“But I want to have the full college experience,” Emily said. She smiled at her little brother Tyler who had his ear buds hidden up under his long hair. He smiled back and nodded, or bobbed his head to the music and had no idea what anyone was saying. Sadly, he thought he was getting away with it.

“All fine and well,” her mother said. “Just make sure your studies come first. We would hate to pay all that money for nothing.” Father looked at her and she could read his mind.

“And for God’s sake, don’t get pregnant and not finish.”

Emily looked at her plate. “I’m getting mostly Bs and Cs. It’s not like high school.” At least she hoped she would get a C in biology. She was not sure.

“Ah?” Mother let out her signature sound. She was not happy to hear that. “My straight A student?”

Emily repeated herself. “It’s not like high school. The competition is a lot stiffer.”

“Honey, you just need to apply yourself.”

True. Emily had not applied herself to her classes. She had not been able to do that what with everything else going on. Right at the moment, she felt like applying herself to her turkey so she could escape before the questions got into details.

Fortunately, her big brother David chose that moment to arrive. He was in a National Guard unit that had deployed overseas. He was the one who got her thinking about ROTC in the first place. His outfit was told they would be home for Thanksgiving, but he told the family not to expect him before Saturday.

While everyone shouted and ran for hugs and welcome words, Emily ran upstairs and grabbed the top of her ROTC uniform. She dragged it downstairs to show her brother. Captain Driver had given her corporal stripes for when she was with the sophomore class. They matched her brother’s stripes.

“Ah,” he made the sound mother would have made. “But you are going to be an officer. Do I salute you now or do I have to wait?” He came to attention and so did she. He saluted and she returned his salute as an officer should. Then they laughed and hugged, and noticed that mother had gone back to the table to sit. She wanted no part of that military stuff.