3 Maybe Just This Once Snitches Don't Get Stitches

Deeb was learning to live with the visions. Now that she knew she wasn't crazy, she had started the adjustment process and given that it was only day 3, she thought she was doing pretty well. They were still an odd experience, but they weren't so startling or jarring anymore. The only thing that really got to her nowadays was the roadkill. She didn't feel too bad for the turkey. They got killed all the time! But the sad little otter? The little broken fawn that couldn't be woken up by its mother despite her best efforts? Even the squirrel that just ALMOST made it out of dodge? Heartbreaking. She was glad nobody was around when she got those visions, because she bawled for at least 15 minutes. She didn't really care about the trickle of drainwater, or the children playing, or the animals hiding. But the roadkill was depressing. And she also minded the rogue couples. There were only a few and at least they all kept their clothes on, but it still was not something she really wanted to see.

She had also gotten better at sensing when they were going to start. Her prep time was getting a few seconds longer every day, which made for much safer visions. No sooner had she agreed to go with Lauren, Ramon, Shelley, and the new guy from Power Distribution to Haberschmidt's, she sensed a vision coming on. She put her phone down and waited approximately 7.32 seconds. It was a sunny day and there was barely any breeze. The grass in the drainage ditch looked like it had been mowed two days prior. The first of the white and pale yellow butterflies were flitting around and there were pounding footfalls chasing them. The doberman, which she recognized as Reginald, was chasing the butterflies around and overall just having a good time playing in the dewy grass in the empty drainage ditch. He sniffed a grasshopper and sneezed, disturbing the bug. After shaking his head back and forth to reorient himself after the sneeze, his ears pricked up. He looked right at her, sat down, and barked happily.

It was almost as if Reginald knew she was watching and where her vantage point was. Deeb knew it was a stupid way to spend her morning, but she knew that ditch. It was off the side of 58th avenue, just before the 42nd street entrance to the farmlands. It had a distinct shape (higher on the back end than the front end), a type of wild lilly that only grew naturally in a few other places in the township, and the same kind of butterfly that was occupying the farmlands that time of year. She knew the ditch and she knew there was a friendly dog there. She had no choice, she had to go. So she got in her car and headed east.

Sure enough, Reginald was exactly where she thought he would be. He barked happily when she got out of her car. Deeb, of course, spent the next five minutes squishing his face and scratching behind his ears, all while unintelligibly muttering praise for the doberman's cuteness. To be fair, he really was cute. He was big for a doberman, and a little fatter than would usually be expected, but other than that, he was the perfect specimen of a well bred doberman. His coat was pitch black and shiny, save for rust spots over his eyebrows, along the sides of his snout, and socks on his front paws. Before the near-apocalypse, purebred dobermans would have their ears and tails docked, but Reginald had floppy ears and a long thin tail. Humanity had prioritized regaining surgical technology and skill, and that included veterinary surgery, but surgery for both people and animals was reserved for medically necessary procedures only. Resources were in a balance very precariously tipped toward surplus. They didn't have the disinfectant, anaesthetic, antibiotics, and pain pills to spare. There were enough. If she or Reginald broke a leg, there would be enough to fix it up without a problem (or to solve any problems that might arise). But they had to save all that for the people injured and/or in pain, not for the people who wanted to look younger or for their dogs to have shorter tails and pointy ears. The age of cosmetic procedures was over. The closest thing to cosmetic surgery that remained was reconstructive surgery. And even so, many whose disfigurements were inconsequential to their health elected to forego reconstruction. The age of unnecessary surgery was over and so was the age of fearing the marred. No longer were they avoided on the street. They were quietly hailed as heroes instead. Because of their sacrifice, someone else wouldn't have to worry. Life was certainly harder than in the age of the octogenarians' youth, but Deeb liked the thought that society had gotten kinder.

She watched Reginald chase butterflies for a while, then they played fetch with a stick she found. Thoroughly exhausted after 45 minutes, she sat in the middle of the ditch, which was surprisingly dry for the time of year, and hugged Reginald. "I sure do like playing with you, Reginald, but don't you have a home to be getting back to? And a real name for that matter?" He didn't really seem to care about what she had just said. He just nudged her shoulder with a wet nose and demanded more petting. "Alright, alright, I'll stop asking questions!" He licked her face. "Yeah yeah, I love you too, you big goof! If you ever want to play or want pets, just, uh, find one of my visions, ok?" Reginald gave her a big whine. "I know. Easier said than done." She thought for a second. "Hmmm… I mean you had a lucky guess this time, but… you know, all my visions seem to be in ditches, so I guess find a ditch and hope for the best? Yeah, that sounds-"

The vision came out of nowhere and with a distant thud.

A body hit the dry ground. It was another man with a conspicuous four pronged red gash across his torso, this time a bit lower, more of an attempted disembowelment. The gash was messier this time. It was clear there were multiple attempts to make the kill. The blood was quickly rolling off the grass and soaking into the dry ground. The man's dirty white long sleeved t shirt looked like it had some kind of oversized logo on it before it got ripped to shreds. Deeb didn't know who he was. She had seen his long nose, blonde hair, and deep tan from working in the fields in town before, but he was several years older than her, they had never interacted in any way other than the occasional "hello". It didn't matter who he was anymore. His eyes were glassy and would start to cloud over soon. What little blood would stay in his body rather than seeping into the ground was settling and turning his back a sickening purple color. The little yellow buttercups were being stained with little red flecks by the flies moving from blood puddle to flower to blood puddle. The sun beat down intensely on the ditch, with nothing but blueberry bushes, which were very scrawny, to provide shade. There was a disjunct scrambling on large feet to get out of the ditch. Whatever it was that killed the man, it seemed to have a soft and graceful gait on feet that were never meant to be graceful. The shape of the scrambler was unclear from its juxtaposing footfalls, but in the direct sun, there was a hiss and a clicking sound. The leaves rustled and bushes scraped together as it darted in the direction of the forest.

Deeb returned to normal consciousness and saw that Reginald had been standing guard. Once he saw that she had woken up, he started pacing with urgency. "Come on, boy. We're going to the farm with the blueberries on the side." He was quite eager to go for a car ride, jumping into the front seat like he had done it hundreds of times before. She remarked that he had to have been trained, if he was so comfortable with jumping into cars. Deeb buckled her seatbelt and deadpanned to the dog "When we find this body, I'm giving you credit, ok? Don't rat me out, I'm suspicious as hell and I just don't think I'd do well in prison." Reginald whined in agreement. "Well, I'm glad you agree, but you really don't think I'd do well in prison?" Reginald let out a short and low bark. Deeb started the engine, checked to make sure her battery was maintaining charge (it was), and sped off.

They pulled in front of the farm with the tomato plants out front and the livestock pens on the sides, rather than the blueberry bushes on the sides to add to the whole "dog led me here" story. Deeb was a bit wigged out that she wasn't going faster in truth, but hey, the guy couldn't get any more dead, so what really was the hurry? Decomposition took more than 15 minutes, last time she checked. At least Reginald was having fun, sniffing everything on the ground. She supposed she wanted to know more about the beast that had claimed two lives now, but it, whatever it was, was long gone. It didn't seem to like to stick around its kills long, more often opting to bolt into the nearest area with foliage cover. She briefly considered that maybe she shouldn't be following a trail of corpses left by an animal that was, well, leaving a trail of corpses. She quickly dismissed that thought, noting that her parents would just have to be very disappointed in her for being an idiot.

About half a mile in, they found him. He looked exactly the same as in the vision, but oddly enough, Deeb felt she couldn't see him quite so well. It was like her eyes could see in three dimensions, but the visions' eye could see in three and a half. And that half dimension made a world of difference. Reginald let out a long whine and pressed his head into the side of Deeb's thigh. "I know, I know, it's not a nice sight. No person should ever look like that." She called 769 and it rang for a few seconds before the operator picked up.

"769, what is your emergency?"

"Hi, I'm at that farm with the blueberry bushes on the perimeter, I believe it's Ericksen's? There's a dead body."

"We're sending a crew immediately, please stay put unless there is lingering danger. In the meantime, can I get some more information?"

"Yeah, absolutely." "Are you sure the victim is dead?"

Deeb generally presented well under pressure, but she tried very hard to let the disturbance she was feeling be reflected by her demeanor. If she appeared too calm and unperturbed, it might look like a coverup, and then she'd be suspect number one for not one, but two bodies, since they'd assume she used the same animal mimicking weapon to kill the man from Wednesday. "He's got a nasty gash, like that guy who got mauled on Wednesday. But there is no animal in sight other than a few squirrels. His eyes are all glazed over and his blood has settled."

"Alright, he does sound pretty dead. How did you find the body?"

It wasn't a total lie. "I made a canine friend recently and saw him while I was on a drive. Of course I stopped to play with him. He was really intent that I followed him, so I did, thinking maybe he'd take me to his owners and I'd finally figure out where to return him when he wanders. Turns out he was sniffing out a dead body."

"Ok, I'll send that to the dispatch team so they can get your testimony and get you off the scene as soon as possible. This must be very traumatic. If there is no danger present, I will get off the line now."

It had been a very traumatic week. The dispatcher had NO IDEA. "Thank you. There is no danger."

The emergency crew finally made it after what felt like 5 hours, but was actually only 15 minutes of standing awkwardly next to a corpse. She had seen all she needed to see and even taken a sly picture or two after only 5 minutes, so the crew couldn't arrive soon enough. They asked her the standard questions and did not seem to suspect her at all. It was no surprise though, she didn't have claws, and this man was clearly killed by something that did. They didn't even suspect Reginald. His paws were much too small to have made such a wide slash. They loaded the corpse into the ambulance as the police officer was finishing up his questions.

"Sorry about your bad day, miss. Luckily, we're about done here. You said this isn't your dog. Do you want us to take him anywhere?"

Deeb shrugged. "Would if I could. I don't know who he belongs to. I just keep running into him and he's very friendly, so I play a little if I have the time."

"You could have fooled me, he certainly follows you around like he's yours."

Deeb laughed, feeling in a joking mood that had been rare since the start of the visions. "If I ever find out he's up for grabs, I'll take him in a heartbeat! But I hear the law doesn't take too kindly to stealing dogs, so in the meantime, I'll drive him back to where we started and trust he can find his way home."

The officer found her joke amusing. "Alright, have a nice rest of your day, miss."

"Thank you, you too, Grady."

Deeb and Reginald got back in the car. "I know I seem callous to this, I really do. But I see disturbing things all the time through the visions. This isn't even the first dead body. And honestly, the dead bodies are not the worst I've seen through the visions. I'm sad for the guy. I really am. But what does crying do about it? This is the second one, you know. There was another guy who got killed by one of those things. The gashes look the exact same. I saw that one too. Didn't smell it though. … Kinda glad about that. But I have a bad feeling until they catch whatever that animal is, the body count is going to keep ticking up." Reginald whined, as if he were gloomily agreeing.

Deeb let Reginald out where she had originally found him. The butterflies had since left, deeming the air too hot and dry in the afternoon sun. "You know, you can always come find me, I'll buy you some dog food and a big pillow and everything. If not, maybe ask whoever you belong to for a collar?" Reginald stretched with a whine and then bounded off. Deeb noted that he definitely took off in a different direction than last time. She hadn't intended to take so long with the dog, but it was early afternoon already. She needed lunch and maybe, just maybe, a nap. During the drive home, she mused over if she should lie to her friends when they asked how her day was and what she had done. It was sure to be an awkward time responding to "I got a vision and saw a random dog that I liked, so I drove all the way over to the farmlands to play with him, and then I got another vision of a dead body, so we went to find it and notified the proper authorities". What does one even say to that?! Deeb didn't know and also didn't think it was her friends' responsibility to figure it out, so she resolved to apply a heavy coat of gloss to the truth.

While microwaving leftovers from the night before (she made an excellent chicken and cheese casserole), she checked the news. There was nothing yet about the second victim. She supposed she'd have to see what they'd find later in the night. Autopsies and site investigations were not exactly speedy affairs. Even the late night report probably wouldn't have everything she expected to learn from the investigators. All she could do was wait. So Deeb would wait. She had to meet her friends at the restaurant at 7:00, so she set her alarm for 5:00 and faceplanted on her bed.

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