The Blood Wolf

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Jazzy Minnie stood on the ground, in the only clearing within a thousand miles of cornfields.

Her eyes darted from stalk to stalk, husk to husk, searching with such desperation for an exit from the only safe place in the whole world that she almost broke into tears. But unlike all the sliding doors, automatic doors, handled doors of the city, there was nothing for her to open, nothing for her to escape to. 

Nothing.

And she cried, and she didn't feel bad about it, and she ignored everything her mother had told her, all the rules and the trends and the norms. Because her life was ending, and there was nothing she could do about it, and her mother had just let it happen.

Jazzy rubbed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. She felt an obligation to keep her misery in control, even though she was sure they felt the same.

"Come on, darlings!"

There the voice came again, in its usual, unstable, high-pitched tone. Jazzy hated it immediately, but her legs seemed to resist her will, and she stumbled forward.

The voice came from a young woman, maybe in her late twenties, with an awkward corn-yellow cardigan that matched her high heels, glasses, and sombrero hat. She wore a striking black pair of business pants that were cropped to barely cover her ankles, and a ring of woven corn kernels decorated both wrists and her neck.

She looked absolutely psycho.

Jazzy stared at her, and she smiled. A chaotic, devilish smile that made a chill ripple through her spine.

"Miss Cornshucker," she said, putting out her right hand.

Jazzy, however, kept her nervous hands untouched, and forced a smile back. "Jazzy," she croaked, then cleared her throat. "Jazzy. Minnie. Jazzy Minnie."

Off to a bad start, a voice in her head said.

She hadn't originally planned to ask why the woman was called Miss Cornshucker, but curiosity took the best of her, and she gave the psycho woman another stare.

"What's your real name?"

Jazzy had thought it sounded a lot more critical than she intended, like a cruel, suspicious, demand. But Miss Cornshucker didn't mind.

She just smiled, again. Psychotic. Devilish.

... smile.

--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

"Miss Trissy, I have you here with Mee, so please work with her. Miss Minnie, you're with your cousin, Natalie... and Miss Montana, you will be working with Sophia!"

Jazzy watched as the others split off into groups: Bea with Mee, her cousin with herself, and Hannah with Sophia. She was reminded sharply that Sophia had lost her memories, and couldn't even remember her last name, her parents, anything.

The first, silent remark Jazzy made with that was that she'd rather lose her memories, too. She didn't want to remember her mother, or her father, or her sister, or her little brother.

At least her cousin was here. Jazzy and Natalie had been a chaos duo for quite a while, and not once had they been Infected. Natalie's family was kind to her, and as they could afford multiple BMS's, they bought them --- just for her.

Jazzy imagined what help they could have been the day Josh was Infected.

"Come on, dears. Let's get started!" Miss Cornshucker's shrill voice rang out, again. "Now, there, you have a basket of freshly harvested corn. Let's begin by slicing off the stem... that's right, Miss Trissy... and now, pull off the layers of the outer husk until the inner is left..."

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