BLOOD ON THE ASPHALT
by Galen Hardesty
Chapter Two
Daria reached the other side of Iroquois Street without incident. The only car she saw was two blocks distant and going the other way. She headed up the alley that cut through the middle of the next block to shorten her walking distance a little. Ahead of her, lying in the alley was a piece of poster board. As she drew closer to it, she could read its hand-lettered message: 'Ha Ha Faked ya out'. Daria scratched her head and wondered what that might be about. She guessed she'd probably never know. Shrugging, she walked on.
One day, Daria would look back on this town, with its elm tree branches arching to meet over the middle of its quiet shady streets, its sidewalks beside every street, its regular gridwork of north-south and east-west streets with no cul-de-sacs and no twisted, worm-track housing development street layouts, and even its alleys bisecting residential blocks so that trash trucks could make their collections behind the houses and trash cans wouldn't need to sit out in front of them, with a nostalgic longing. Daria didn't yet know that all towns and cities in the land weren't as people-friendly as this one. But she knew she liked the alleys. They made good shortcuts, and people's back yards were usually more interesting than their front yards.
Daria reached the Algonquin Street end of the alley and turned east along the sidewalk. Ahead of her, she noticed a small movement in the grass beside the street. Approaching cautiously, she saw what she first took for a small rat, creeping shakily toward the sidewalk. A slightly closer look told her it was a very small possum, no more than four inches long, not counting its tail. Where had it come from? Surely it wasn't a pet.
A quick look around supplied the answer. Out in the street, at the end of a surprisingly long smear of blood and gore, were the mortal remains of an adult possum, and what might have been several babies, the same size as the survivor. Daria's stomach turned at the sight. Even so, she noticed that the scene seemed very fresh. It must have happened just a few minutes ago.
Daria turned back to the surviving baby possum. It seemed to have seen her, because it was tottering straight toward her, and making little noises that sounded like sneezes. Daria walked a few steps farther up the sidewalk, and the thing altered its course and came toward her again. Oh, heck. She did not need this.
Daria looked around again, as if hoping to see a Forest Ranger or a Humane Society worker appear from behind a tree to take charge of the little orphan. None did. A tiny sneezy noise drew her attention back to the waif. Reluctantly, she approached it, and stopped about a foot away. It continued to creep toward her, tried to climb onto her sneaker and rolled off, exposing its little pink belly.
Daria gazed unhappily down at the helpless little thing. What was she supposed to do now? Its mother was very dead and it was obviously much too young to take care of itself. She didn't know a thing about the care of baby possums, and she didn't know anyone who might. If she tried to pick it up it might bite her. It certainly had enough teeth. She could just leave it alone, she supposed, and let Mother Nature take care of it. A series of images flashed through her mind, regarding what a dog or cat would do with it. No, she realized, she couldn't just leave it alone.
Sighing, she dropped to one knee and helped it roll over upright. It tried to climb her sneaker again. Hesitantly, she offered it the back of her hand as a bite test. It made no attempt to bite, but nuzzled back and forth over her skin, as if searching for something. She thought she could guess what. "Sorry, kiddo, I'm not your momma. But somehow I think you know that. I think you know your momma's dead, and that's why you're trying to adopt me. Either that, or you think I look like a possum."
Daria very gently lifted the tiny creature onto one hand, held the other hand around it, and slowly lifted it. She thought it seemed pleased. "Now what am I going to do with you, huh? What do I feed you? Where are you going to sleep? Hanging by your tail in my closet?" It regarded her earnestly and sniffed at her, but offered no suggestions.
"Well, I think we'd better go to the library and look you up. The librarian says you can find out most anything on the internet. I guess this is a good time to see if that's true. If not, there are always books, right?" Daria started off back the way she'd come.
"Shall we get you a library card while we're there? Can you sign your name? Huh? Say, what is your name. anyway?" The miniscule marsupial stared blankly at Daria, seemingly at a loss for words. "You say you don't have a name? Well goodness, how inconvenient. I can't just call you 'hey, you.' Quinn will think I'm talking to her. Hmmm. I think I'll call you... Opie." Daria sauntered along toward the library, deep in conversation.
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