Snitch

Chapter 1-1

1

Terror gripped Genette Abrams. What’s wrong with me? Can’t breathe.

Earlier in the evening, Ironwood’s Downtown District had pulsed with Central Arizona University students. Genette had been having such a good time at the Trip Hop Lounge, dancing and rolling on a d**g called hex, a mix of h****n and ecstasy, that she told her sorority sisters to go home without her.

But at eleven thirty, her stomach had begun to cramp. She’d stepped outside, hoping some fresh air would help make her feel better. It hadn’t. The stomach cramps worsened until she hurled next to an ironwood tree planted along the sidewalk. She would have been embarrassed had anyone seen her. But on a Monday night finals just a week away, the streets were all but abandoned.

As she walked away from the club, her legs and chest stiffened, making walking and breathing difficult. Her four-inch heel slipped off the sidewalk. She tumbled into the cold, dark street and lay shivering on the pavement. Above her, the red and green lights of a holiday decoration affixed to a streetlamp glowed cheerily.

As quickly as it came, the bizarre tightening of muscles released. Using a small ironwood tree planted along the sidewalk to pull herself up, she hobbled against a nearby building and took a breath. I’ll be okay. Just need to find my car and get home. She managed a smile, as the bass beat of the club’s house music lingered in her d**g-lubricated mind. Where the hell’d I park, anyway?

A second wave of stiffness battered her, more intense this time. Hands trembled. Jaw tightened. Leg muscles seized. Her chest muscles constricted and squeezed the air out of her lungs. Genette cried out in agony through gritted teeth as she collapsed. “Grrrngh . . .”

What’s happening to me? Please, God, don’t let me die.

Moments before she blacked out, the tightness and pain eased up again. She took deep, gulping breaths. A gust of icy November wind blew across her bare legs. Gotta get out of the wind.

Holding on to a wall to steady herself, and inched along the steep sidewalk into an alley. It wasn’t much warmer, but at least it cut the wind screaming down the street.

Gotta call Sarah. She’ll help me.

She reached for the phone in her purse. With clumsy fingers, she dialed her roommate’s phone. Another wave of cramps and tremors hit her.

“Hello?” asked a gravelly, irritated voice.

“Su . . . muh . . . heh . . .” The words would not come out.

“Genette, is that you?”

“Brah . . . nee . . .” With a squeal, her jaw clamped shut and refused to open.

“Dammit, girl! I told you before—don’t be drunk dialing me this late. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Ughnnn . . .” Her lungs burned for air. Her chest tightened. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, like taiko drums from a horror movie soundtrack. A foamy liquid in her throat choked off her breathing. Panic and confusion gripped her. She collapsed on the ground. The phone clattered onto the sidewalk next to her.

“Shut the f**k up!” came a voice farther down the alley. “Some of us is trying to sleep!””

A woman bundled up in a coat with a hoodie loomed over her, illuminated by the dim light spilling from the street. “Jesus H. Christ. Can’t you find someplace else to make noise?”

Genette reached out, her eyes bulging in their sockets. “Mmrrnngh . . .”

“f*****g drunk college kids ain’t got nothing better to do than interrupt my sleep. Shit.” The woman disappeared from view, followed by the rhythmic squeaking of a grocery cart wheel.

Genette collapsed as her muscles no longer responded. No, don’t leave. Please. Help.

Her body arched backward in crushing waves of pain, twisting and contorting. The cold deepened. Genette’s mind went dark. Dead eyes stared sightless into the night.