The construction zone that took almost ten minutes to pass through was actually a nice change of pace for Blake. Too much of anything was no good, and he was way past that. One could only take so much farmland speckled with hay, livestock, and barely enough utility poles to count on both hands.
He took advantage of the breather as he was waved along and forced to use the oncoming lane but couldn’t see much for the hill bordering the blacktop. From the low rumbles he felt through the steering wheel and the brief view of bobbing mechanical arms cresting the hill, it was obvious that progress knew no bounds.
Neither do welfare checks in the last unincorporated corner of the county…lucky me he thought, passing back into his lane and another endless ocean of wide-open spaces, wondering if that catchphrase on all the state commercials was meant to attract travelers or keep them away.
After arriving at the lone house on the spacious plot of land, he reviewed the paperwork one last time. The annual check was due for Mary Franklin, eighty-six, and her niece Leesha age fifteen. Husband Bobby Franklin died two years prior. County ordinance required an annual check on elderly seniors. Nothing unusual came up in the last check on the family so dump it on the city detective since the county law office apparently had bigger fish to fry. Blake could easily have sent the report without lifting a finger and no one would be the wiser, but he was above that.
Once at the door he was ready to knock and flash his badge when he was startled by a greeting at the far end of the porch. “Hello, can I help you?” the little girl asked from a wooden rocking chair, her feet planted firmly to the porch and hands curled around the armrests like a queen surveying the masses from her throne.
“Hi there,” Blake replied with the friendliest smile he could manage and took a few steps to get a better look at her. He wasn’t the best at guessing ages, but she definitely wasn’t fifteen – more like ten. There weren’t any other children listed, maybe she was a friend from the farm next door. She sat unassuming in overalls and sneakers, waiting for his next question.
“I’m Blake, what’s your name?”
“Leesha.”
Blake made a mental note to yell at the lazy-ass county idiot who supplied him with the first mistake regarding age and probably not the last. In any case he was a little weirded-out with this one.
“Hi Leesha, is your aunt home?”
“Yes, she’ll be along shortly.”
That was enough. He headed back to the door with a swift thank-you and a chill up his spine. This one gave new meaning to wise-beyond-their-years and was too grammatically correct for any age, much less a kid living in this corner of the county.
Mistake number two arrived at the door in the form of another female that made Blake instantly double-check the paperwork in his hand to make sure he was at the correct address. She was old but not elderly — more like sixty-eight than eighty-six – gliding to the screen door with a swifter walk than he ever had.
He flashed his badge, introduced himself and the purpose of his visit, then asked the million-dollar question.
“Mary Franklin?”
“That’s me, come in!”
Well, that settled that. Transposing numbers, another note for the county idiot.
Instincts from his real occupation kicked in without notice and he cased the place quickly. The house showed its age, but it was in no way a fixer-upper. Floors were clean, furniture was nice, the kitchen was spotless, even the air smelled pleasant. Hell, the bathroom was so clean he could have eaten off the floor.
The only thing unusual was how accepting she was about the visit. From the time he entered Blake was ready for a hailstorm of blowback, but she proceeded showing the house with the air of a game show hostess giving a grand tour to a prospective buyer. None of the why-do-you-keep-coming-out-we-are-so-sick-of-you-can-you-just-leave-us-alone flack he was expecting.
And dammit if he didn’t find her a little attractive for her ages, whichever one was correct.
Once planted on a couch so comfortable it reminded him to replace his, Blake pulled his pen out and was ready to make a slew of corrections for the county records. Mary sat across from him, modestly pulled her skirt over her knees, and sat at patient attention.
“Did you get to see everything?” she asked.
Blake waved his hand, “Oh yes…absolutely, you’ve been more than kind in putting up with me. Now if you could just help clear-up some things – these county people and their typos…” he rolled his eyes which brought a chuckle from her. He cherished the moment as they locked eyes briefly, then reality walked in at the sound of the screen door slamming.
Leesha strolled over and stood near the fireplace. Blake felt that electric chill again and bent over his papers.
“Can I have your ages please?”
“I’m eighty-six.”
Well…hell.
“Leesha tell the detective how old you are honey.”
“Fifteen,” Leesha replied with a now-get-outta-here tone.
Blake’s view was frozen on his pen with no idea how to react. Was he supposed to pretend to believe them? Were they just screwing with him? From the kid sure — he expected it – but not this nice, attractive, semi-senior aunt.
He stole a glance at Mary. Her smile had faltered a little as if she figured the game was up and he would not be as easy to convince as the last visitor.
So much for transposing numbers. Better find out who made that first welfare check, maybe he knows something I don’t.
The pen was starting to soak the paper with ink, he lifted it and raised his head.
You’re a freaking detective, act like it.
“Sorry, you said eighty-six?”
“Yes,” Mary answered, her perfect smile returning. “Good genes, I guess. I know it’s hard to believe.”
“Very.”
The pause was deafening. Mary’s smile dampened again as if she just then realized Blake was a detective and not the county clerk. Leesha looked back with no smile, expected at this point. Blake felt that chill go away as he locked eyes on her, ready to play.
“What about you Leesha, you look a lot younger than fifteen.”
“I’m a late bloomer.”
“Really?” Blake almost howled with laughter and stifled it to a chuckle. “Well…that happens.”
He fought the urge to ask if she checked her batteries lately.
“Look Detective,” Mary broke in, pulling Blake away from the staring contest he was bent on winning. “There can be some strange folks out here, much more than us. We’re used to the whole country-crazies thing, we just put up with it and live our lives.”
“Ok, I’ll let the ages stay where they are. Can you tell me about your former husband?”
“Yes, Bobby. He died in an accident about two years ago.”
“What kind of-”
“He was attacked by an animal; we miss him terribly.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“I was fine for a while, but the loneliness finally settled in and became too much. We never had children of our own, and Leesha was always like a daughter to us. My sister sent her to keep me company, and she liked it so much here that she decided to stay.”
Oh yeah, she looks thrilled to be here.
“My sister was never much of a mother, so she’s fine with it.”
Blake awkwardly tried to switch gears.
“Well, it’s obvious from the look of everything you get along fine, but I still have to ask. Are you okay out here? Is there anything you need?”
He expected Leesha to say just get the hell out but wasn’t lucky enough to hear it. She didn’t have to, her eyes said it all. Not to mention the way Mary cut him off about her husband. He was done here.
“We do the best we can, we’re fine.”
Blake stood, thanked them for his time and asked for some water. He strolled over to the mantle above the fireplace, Leesha’s eyes followed him.
There were several photos lined up as any typical family would do. His attention swayed to the older ones that included Bobby.
“Is this your uncle?”
“Yes, we miss him terribly.”
That chill again. Someone was following a script here.
Blake leaned forward, studying the girl next to Bobby in a shot taken somewhere on the property. She appeared older and taller than Leesha.
“Is this a relative or friend of yours?”
“That’s me.”
Of course it is, how stupid of me.
He moved down the line to another, this one with Bobby and Mary together. Mary looked much closer to the age Blake expected when he walked into this mess, and equal to her husband. Just a nice senior couple in their twilight years.
“I took that one!” Leesha cried with what for a second sounded like a normal excited girl who missed her uncle. Blake bent over like he wanted to tell a secret.
“Look, the office doesn’t have any pics of your uncle, you mind if I snap a few of these?”
Leesha shook her head. Blake whipped out his phone and was done just when Mary returned with some bottled water, and very proud to point out she flavored it for a little kick. He apologized for the hassle, thanked them again, and was out like a shot. A chord was struck, enough to know he was starting to tread on thin ice.
Just what the hell was he investigating? There were no laws against this kind of crazy. Even the husband’s demise made sense given the location.
Still, Mary had called him Detective but never asked why they sent him instead of the typical county officer. Then there was the aging elephant in the room.
The only red flag in all this was they were not trying to hide anything. Which, of course, meant the exact opposite.
•••
Back at the motel, he extended his stay and spent almost half an hour on the phone arguing with the county records office before they finally caved in.
“You were just supposed to make a record of the visit and turn it in, how hard can that be?”
There was a strange sucking sound after every sentence like the clerk was licking her fingers.
“I told you there’s more to it than that. Now the husband, what do you have on his death?”
“Can’t you just Google all this?”
“The cell coverage out here is shoddy at best and there’s no wifi at this place.”
“Sweet Lord-”
“Get me to your supervisor please, or is he too busy bringing your dessert?”
Static trickled through the line at the gauntlet he just laid down. If they wanted to dump this on a detective, they sure as hell were going to get their money’s worth.
“That won’t be necessary, hold please.”
Blake studied the pictures he took of the family photos on his phone — just a husband, wife, and their visiting niece enjoying life. Nothing unusual, except the ladies looked much older than they do now. He reached for the flavored water on the lampstand when the clerk returned to the line.
“Okay…Bobby Franklin…died two years ago. Went out in the middle of the night to investigate a loud noise on the property. Was violently attacked by some animal. His wife Mary heard the screams, ran out with a rifle and shot the animal but it was too late. Bobby died from his wounds.”
“Was there an autopsy?”
“Yes. Cause of death was blunt force trauma and massive blood loss from the wounds; he was torn up pretty good. The wife had him cremated.”
“What about the animal?”
That brought another pause as the clerk sucked her fingers some more. That dessert must have been delicious.
“Mary said she struck it twice, but it took off before she could finish the job. It probably wandered off and died in the woods. There was a search, but nothing turned up.”
“There are no woods out there.”
“Detective, that’s all I have. Anything else?”
“Yes, the birth records on all three please.”
More sucking and shuffling of papers, then the clerk gave the birthdates. They matched what he had. Damn, he was really hoping to give her hell over that.
“Thanks. Enjoy the rest of your meals,” Blake said and clicked off.
He sighed at the dead-end he just hit. So, some farmers apparently discover a fountain of youth around the time the husband dies and start reverse-aging? Blake laughed and could hear Rod Serling’s narration, presenting it for his approval.
Consider if you will…
He yawned, unscrewed the cap from the water and bent over the pictures again, this time zooming in for a better look at the backgrounds. Nothing unusual, just normal farm equipment. Tractors, tools, a water pump. There was even the stereotypical half-buried wagon wheel.
Blake’s eyes went back to the water pump in the background of a shot with Mary and Leesha. Okay, so they got water from a well, another typical fun farm fact.
He set the water back on the stand and noticed thin burgundy strands swirling in the sepia lamplight. Flavored for a little kick, Mary had said. Maybe it was the sum of everything leading to crazy assumptions, but the thoughts he had of what it could be turned his stomach. Whatever it was, it was not dissolving well.
It was time to call in favors. Blake rang the front desk and asked if they had expedited shipping. They did, overnight pickup was in an hour. He packaged the bottle the best he could and reached out to the research lab at the state university to alert them of the incoming delivery.
He barely slept. Whatever dreams came were of farms, buried wagon wheels, homemade water, and the gift of eternal youth.
•••
“Terri, I promise I’ll fill out all the forms you need, but this is extremely urgent, and we need to keep it under the radar for now.”
Terri was an old flame from college. Those times were great while they lasted, until destiny called them down separate tracks. She stayed on as a chemistry professor while he ventured forth to combat crime.
“Analyze water? Really? What do you think is in this anyway Blake?”
“That’s what I need you for, but I learned enough from you to know blood dissolves in water, and that’s holding together.”
“No worries, I’ll settle for dinner sometime.”
“I’ll buy you dinner for a year.”
“Ok you got me. I could use a break from teaching all those prospective brilliant minds.”
“They’re only brilliant because of you.”
“Oh, you’re good. Give me two hours. I’ll see if I can break my record.”
“Thanks Terri.”
Two hours was enough for one more question for the county clerk, this time slurping away at what Blake assumed was the afternoon beer break.
He asked who performed the first welfare check done last year. Officer Spradling was the name, a by-the-book officer with a flawless record. Taking early retirement six months later for what the clerk called a come-to-Jesus moment, he bragged about how young he felt and finally wanted to see the world. At this point he was probably half-way across Europe.
“We check his Instagram posts every once in a while, he’s looking young and spry. We can hardly tell it’s him.”
•••
Blake was back at the Franklin farm well after midnight and parked on the shoulder near the driveway. The house was nice and dark, a good sign everyone was fast asleep.
Terri’s call with the test results played on an endless loop in his mind.
“Okay pop-quiz hotshot, why does blood dissolve in water?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Red blood cells are too weak. They burst from the pressure and the water takes over, it’s basic osmosis.”
“But that won’t dissolve, that’s not blood.”
“Well…it is, that’s the rub. We have red cells, platelets, plasma, but it’s definitely not human. It has to be an animal – something — but there’s none I know of with blood this strong. This is powerful stuff. DNA can take weeks, and there’s no way to rush that.”
“Don’t bother, you’ve done enough. I’ll get you that dinner sometime.”
He studied the photo with the water pump in the background. From the layout he guessed it was about halfway between the road and the house. Fortunately, the moon was bright enough to lead the way, using a flashlight would make him an easy target. He brought it anyway and hopped the fence with his gun and a crowbar from the trunk.
It was easy to spot, a dull metal glow in the cobalt lunar light. Once there he operated the arm, bringing forth a brief gush of water from the spout. The color was hard to make out, but he assumed it had the same makeup of the bottle he sent Terri.
The same water Mary and Leesha drank from every day. They probably had a refrigerator full. Maybe it wasn’t naturally flavored, and Mary did the work herself, who knew? Where was the source?
Blake wasn’t prepared to dig and assumed there had to be some type of easy access for maintenance. He started inching his way out, walking a perimeter until he spotted a clearing in the field where the ground was capped by a round stone. He started work with the crowbar and after several minutes and a gallon of sweat, the seal broke with a burst of the most nauseating stench he ever encountered. A mixture of everything combined, and everything that didn’t belong.
He collapsed and almost blacked out, then gathered his coat over his mouth and lumbered back like a drunk. Falling to his knees at the edge of the well, he aimed the flashlight in.
The malformed creature was twisted like a pretzel at the bottom of the shaft. Distortion from the water made it difficult to make out most of what it was or used to be. Blake could see claws, ears, some hair or maybe fur. One arm seemed locked in a position where it grabbed for purchase, the nails had carved chalk-white streaks in the walls on the way down.
He aimed the light over where the head was. Ivory canines reflected the beam, protruding past the lower lip, but it was the eyes that burned in Blake’s memory. Lidless, black orbs locked in an expression of misunderstood pain.
Yes, the water was mixed with the red life that once coursed through the thing, and now was bizarrely reversing the life of others.
“We never meant for this to happen, you know?”
Blake fell back and raised his gun. Mary and Leesha stood side-by-side, their nightgowns making them ethereal visions in the moonlight.
“We’re not armed, Detective,” Leesha said. They both held their hands out in an almost beckoning gesture. Blake dropped his gun, sick to his stomach and too exhausted to breathe.
“It killed my poor Bobby and fell in after I shot it,” Mary explained, “Bobby always forgot to keep that sealed.”
“What…what is it?” Blake gasped.
“We don’t know,” Leesha answered, then casually strolled over to the thick stone lid, placed one foot against it, and slid it back into place. Blake swallowed hard at the display of strength and was ready for the end as she approached him.
“We only know what it does.”
With that, she grabbed his wrist and pulled Blake to his feet, then retrieved his gun and handed it over. He holstered it and dusted himself off, dumbfounded he was still alive.
“How do you know what all it can do? Will it stop? What if you keep going back – aging back — until your nothing?”
“That took a while, but we figured it out,” Mary replied. “It’s all about the dosage?”
“We just dilute the water enough to maintain where we are,” Leesha said. “I guess you didn’t try our sample, or you would feel so much better now. You wouldn’t even be here.”
Blake’s mind was a scrambled mess. Dosage, he thought, they’re talking like they just created the world’s greatest cure-all serum.
“We can get you another if you want-”
“NO!” Blake yelled with his hand up. “I prefer to age and die naturally, thanks.”
Mary stepped forward with a yearning in her eyes that almost convinced him.
“Detective, we won’t do it forever. Just long enough to experience things we missed. Just think of all that age robs from you. You won’t have to wake up one day full of regrets and reminders of everything you didn’t do.”
Just like the last one, Spradling. He drank their Kool-Aid and now he’s globe-trekking in blissful ignorance. How much did he take with him? When will it run out?
“That’s exactly why I do what I do, so I won’t have many of those regrets. I’ve learned to cut my losses.”
“It’s a choice, that’s what makes it so wonderful,” Leesha smiled. “You can pick how young you want to be. Some may feel like you do, others won’t.”
“Others?” Blake’s expression melted to nothing. “What others? How would they know how to control it?”
“They’ll figure it out, eventually.”
They pointed at a narrow trail of soil running through the property, past the well, stretching to the next farm and onward to the horizon and the wake of dawn. He could tell by the dark color it was freshly laid, maybe a couple of weeks old, the same way a newly dug trench would look after being filled.
Stark realization swept him with adrenaline as he bolted to the car.
•••
Blake stopped at the construction zone he had passed on the first trip in, remembering the welcome break it was from driving through all that plain, flat country. He rushed to the top of the hill and saw the sign:
MUNICIPAL WATER DISTRICT – MAKING PROGRESS
On the other side that same trail of fresh dirt became an open trench as the diggers dug and pipe was laid. Blake fell to his knees.
“Hey buddy, you okay.”
He looked up to see a worker in a hardhat blocking the rising sun. Yeah, he thought, that caused a mass-extinction event once.
“You should get back to your car.”
“Just one question,” Blake asked as he rose, “what is all this for?”
“Huh? Oh, we’re tapping a new water source from the lake on the far side. Should supply most of the county and help alleviate the drought, maybe eliminate it altogether. Don’t worry, they were paid well.”
“Paid? Who?”
“The property owners. Fortunately, several of them let us run it under their land, saved us a lot of time and more money than they got out of the deal. Shortest distance between two points, you know?”
“Yeah,” Blake sighed. “What’s the treatment like these days?”
“Well, the county plant just got a retrofit, it should purge out everything the human body can’t handle, and then some. Whatever percentage is safe to digest, you know?”
Blake chuckled at those last words as the worker offered him a bottle.
“Here, you look like you could use some water. I haven’t touched this one yet.”
Blake took it and thanked him, then noticed the dark color.
“Where did you get this?”
“This widow at one of the farms we paid off. She adds her own homemade flavor to give it a kick. I tell you what, me and the guys have never moved so fast in our lives since we started drinking this stuff. We feel great — might even finish this job way ahead of schedule.”
“Won’t that be nice.”
Blake stared at the bottle, watching the burgundy strands swirl in the light of the sun.
•••
They sat tucked away in the corner of the restaurant. Terri fought to keep from laughing, then her look went sour. Blake never joked about much, especially the type of ensuing global catastrophe he just laid out. She stared at the bottle he placed in front of her, the red swirl inside rotated like a corkscrew.
“Ok, let’s say I believe you. So, people get younger, live longer, correct some mistakes, take more time to knock out their buck list. It’s not exactly a zombie-apocalypse.”
“No, it would be a different kind.” Blake replied. “Accelerated overpopulation, can you imagine? What if this breeds some kind of cult-mentality. Ones like us who don’t want this stuff against the rest. Maybe I’m overthinking it-”
Terri pulled the bottle closer and studied the thing she was able to explain to him with science.
“No – you’re not overthinking it. We need to do something.”
“What?”
“You said it, let’s spread the word and find others like us. I know some people to start with”.
“I think I do to.”
They both grabbed their phones and started texting as the waiter asked for their drink order.
They stuck with the white wine.
When he’s not working as an office administrator for a tech company, Kevin Hollaway (he/him) is either reading, writing, or watching movies – the typical habits of a boring single straight male (but he’s fine with it). He can also be found in a quiet corner at his local library on Sunday afternoons (but don’t disturb him).