Class of 1970

Amanda woke. She was in the hospital.

"Is she going to be all right, Doctor?" her mother's worried voice came from the hall.

"She is stable," he began. "We were able to repair the break in her femur a couple days ago, but we would like to keep her here a few more days just to be safe."

'A few more days?' she thought, 'might as well put a sign on my door that says: Try and kill me now!'

Amanda shifted slightly. Her leg was wrapped and has several pins holding the rod in place. Four to six months to heal, not including whatever physical therapy they would recommend. She wouldn't be able to climb the stairs up to her apartment. There was no way she was going to live with her parents again. And what if the person who had now tried to kill her a second time tried again in a month? She wouldn't be able to run from them. She rubbed her eyes. The bandages on her wrists had been changed.

"How bad is it?" she heard her mother ask.

"She has a medullary nail to keep the bones in alignment while they heal."

"Do whatever you think is best."

Amanda was going sick of the conversation. "He doesn't get to tell me to stay," she said loudly, getting their attention.

"Honey," Nosai said, coming in the room. "How are you? I've been so worried about you."

"I'll be fine as soon as I get out of here."

"Honey..."

"No, Mom! I will not stay here so they can fill me with pain killers and who knows what. Get me the AMM forms now!"

"Amanda, you're not being very sensible. It would be best if you stayed here."

"Absolutely not. From what I understand, I have been here the required amount of time after surgery and can go home. If the doctor won't discharge me then you' better get me the AMA papers now!" Amanda shouted as her father walked in.

"I'll get them, Amanda," her father replied.

"Th… There's no need. If she has an adequate living space and will go to physical therapy I'll discharge her."

"My living space is adequate," Amanda said.

"Alright." He signed the page right then. "I'll send a nurse in shortly to remove the IVs."

"Thank you."

Her father sent Nosai on home. He sat in the chair beside her. "Tell me what happened?" he requested.

"Someone tried to run me over while I was walking in the park."

"The police would like a statement if you are up to giving them one."

"I'll give them one and more."

He nodded.

An officer came in and got her statement. She told them about the Master Herbalist suicides that were actually murders. Amanda wasn't unaware of the officer's eyes glancing at her bandaged wrists.

"Do you have proof?"

"Some, but not everything. It's at my apartment."

"Then we will follow you home to see what you have on this."

"Thank you."

My father drove me to my apartment. He helped Amanda inside and carried her up the stairs to my apartment. I'd have to let Taylor continue the teaching for a while, or figure out how to Skype myself downstairs and do it remotely. My dad set me on a chair in the kitchen then followed my instructions to get the notebook, journal, and folder from John out of my room. The officer stood by me while he grabbed what I asked.

Taylor came home as I spread everything out on the table. He stepped into the kitchen and listened as I explained what I knew. The officer listened, writing down several things in a small notebook. When she was finished, the officer tucked the notebook away.

"What you have presented to me, Ms. Onyx, is nothing new. We knew about all of these suicides. So what makes you think they were murder?"

She took the bandages off her wrists and showed them to the officer. "I did not make these cuts. If I wanted to commit suicide by cutting, I would have cut with the veins and used a serrated knife."

"And how does that prove your point?"

"Almost getting run over exactly a month after this. Someone is trying to kill me and though I clearly have insufficient evidence here, I feel the deaths of the others was the same."

"We'll look into it."

"Thank you for your time, Officer."

The officer left.

"How long have you known this information, Amanda?" her father asked.

"John Write had it. He gave it to me two days after I left the hospital a month ago."

"Do any of the other graduates know this?"

"No. But come January, The class of 2006 may very well start dying of suicide."

"And if they do?"

"I don't know. I don't know if there will be another attempt on my life again in a month either."

"This is serious."

"Apparently not serious enough for the police."

"Okay, is there anything I can do for you before I go?"

She shook her head. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, Amanda." He gave her a firm hug before leaving the apartment.

Taylor set a small backpack on the floor as he sat in the chair across from her. "How long ago did you say the killings started?"

"Class of 1973 if John's information is accurate."

"Then let's start…," he started to say, but noticed how weary Amanda looked. "Do you need to rest?"

"After some food and Comfrey capsules."

"Alright."

Taylor got up to make lunch and grab the Comfrey capsules for Amanda. She took the capsules first before eating the salad Taylor made.

"Thank you, Taylor."

"You're welcome, Amanda…. What are you going to do about your classes?"

"We'll need a second laptop so I can Skype to the conference room, if you cannot continue to teach them."

"We can do that. I have a laptop of my own we can use."

"Alright."

"And physical therapy?"

"I have to call them. I'm not going to worry about it tonight though."

"Okay."

"I stopped by to see Flor this afternoon," Taylor said, changing the subject. "I was hoping I could go through Izzy's notes and journals. Maybe find something useful in them."

"How is Flor?" Amanda asked.

"She's doing well."

Amanda gave a small nod.

Flor had been more of a mom to her than her own mom. Until Izzy' death. Then it seemed that Flor didn't want to talk to her anymore.

"Anyways," Taylor said. "Flor had packed all of Izzy's school things in boxes and said I could take them. I hadn't gotten far into my search when I found these. I think these will mean more to you than me." He opened the backpack and pulled out a couple of journals. He handed them to her.

Amanda opened the top journal. She started to cry, when she realized Izzy knew what was going on before she did. Why hadn't she said anything? Did she know who the killer was? Did she…? It didn't matter now. She had the information that Izzy had gathered, maybe it would be enough to help them figure out more, or be enough to convince the police now. Taylor reached over and gave her a hug. She accepted it and hugged him back.

Taylor set up the business laptop in the classroom and left Amanda with his. Amanda kept the Skype connection open. Her students came in tentatively, but after she greeted them, they came in more readily. She taught three classes that day before she heard the apartment door open. She was just setting the computer aside when Taylor stepped in.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," she replied.

"How did your classes go?"

"Great. Work?"

"Alright. Let them know I need fewer hours so I can do more with you."

"Sounds wonderful." Amanda smiled.

"What help can I give you tonight?" Taylor asked.

"None right now."

"Alright. Holler when you do."

"You know I will."

Taylor smiled then left her room.

She went into the front room to review the journals Taylor had given her. She reviewed the information in front of her. One contained all of the success stories that she and Izzy had had as well as the formulas they put together. But what troubled her the most was the last entry, written on the day she died: I woke with a start tonight. I can't remember the dream, but I know it was the dream that woke me up. A month ago, a fellow classmate (2005 graduate) committed suicide. What is going on?

Amanda paused then wondering who would be angry enough to murder Master Herbalists. But just the Master Herbalists from the School of Natural Healing, none of the other schools were affected. Why? Did John know something about the killer?

"Is something wrong, Amanda?" he asked, bringing out a plate of food for her.

"Something still feels off about this whole thing. I'm missing some pieces to this puzzle."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Read through these and see if you can pick up on something," she said, handing him the journals.

She entered the bathroom for a sponge bath. She wouldn't be able to do more than that for another couple weeks. While she cleaned up, she thought about what she had read in the journals. Success stories, stories of death because it was the person's time to go, Izzy's parent's disagreement, dreams, deaths by suicide. What was the connection? Was there even a connection to be found?

Taylor was still looking through the journals when she came back out. He looked up as she lowered herself onto the couch beside him.

"Will you tell me what questions have gone through your mind?" he asked.

"I feel there is something missing, but I don't know what. I also feel it is the piece of information that will finally get the police on board."

"Have you talked with John at all about what he remembers about the class of 1970?"

"No. He had a hard time giving me what he had, let alone…."

"It's worth the try, Amanda."

She nodded, her mouth turning down more. Then she left the front room to grab her phone. She called John.

It rang several times before he picked up.

"I was wondering if you were going to call," he answered.

"I was hoping you could tell me more about the class of 1970. Do you have success stories, death stories, anything of that sort?"

"Plenty. I'll email them to you."

"Thank you."

"Yeah." John hung up then.

"Please have the missing piece. Please have the missing piece," she said, before leaving her room once more.

"What did he say?" Taylor asked.

"He'll email me what more he has."

"See. Cake walk."

"For now."

Taylor set the journals down and stood. He embraced her. "You've made progress, Amanda. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you have."

"Thank you, Taylor."

"You're welcome. Try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?"

"Yes."

Taylor kissed her cheek before he entered the bathroom.

Amanda went into her room and changed before she climbed into bed.