"Someone call the sheriff!"
"Is she alright?"
"I don't think so. Somebody should check her pulse."
"You shouldn't go around poking at a lifeless body."
"This lifeless body needs help which won't arrive for another ten minutes. I'll only check her pulse to see if she's okay."
"I saw in a movie that you shouldn't move the body."
The stranger brushed the girl's long hair back and searched for a sign of life. With his fingers on the side of her neck, he found nothing. There was no beat. In denial, he moved to her left wrist. There it was: a pulse as faint as the smell of roses in a bustling restaurant. A sense receptor so strong was being dominated and hushed.
"I think she's dead!"
"No, Fiona, she's still with us. Her pulse is weak, but she can pull through. I'm sure of it. She's too young to die. The doctors can help her."
The town of Lochby soon changed after this.
On the edge of Arizona, was a lively, little town filled with youth, old souls, and memories. In the summer, the water that was once dried out, would burst out of the ground, as if it had been waiting all this time. The sporadic wind would break the silence of not yet commenced conversations. Trees, bushes, and cacti had all blossomed the past season and were ready to wither. The dusty sand became less so as the kids scurried from lake to land. The heat burned anyone who wasn't prepared for Arizona's summer weather. It was a beautiful time of year. Each summer was special in Lochby, especially this one.
The population of the miniature city was 245 citizens whose lives belonged to the town. Anyone who was born here stayed in Lochby. Anyone who moved here never left. No one left because no one wanted to. The town had everything any other town needed and lacked what they needed to rid themselves of. Callousness. Animosity. Greed. In Lochby, there were no complications, no altercations, no miscommunications.
On the outskirts of the town were farms that the town shared as a community. In the center, a town hall hosted meetings every other Tuesday to discuss the usual trivial topics. To the east, a congregation of lovely residents, in their identical homes, were enjoying their air-conditioned rooms. To the west were the local shops and markets that always seemed to have what you were looking for. Everything seemed perfect in Lochby, that is, before the incident.
An ambulance raced to the nearest hospital, St. Michael's. Once they arrived, they jumped out of the vehicle and greeted the nurses who were waiting to transport the patient. A gurney carrying the young girl rushed to the emergency room. Nurses scurried out of the way as three people paced themselves with the wobbly cart and its quiet forsaken wheel.
"Any ID?" asked the nurse.
"None, but it's a kid, so someone must be able to identify her. The paramedics found her in the middle of the road like this. There was no driver in sight; this was most likely a hit-and-run," proclaimed the second doctor.
"In Lochby? Who would do such a thing? I wonder how long this girl was truly out there," the third doctor questioned.
"I'm not sure," said the second doctor, "but this girl has been subjected to major force. The car had to have been going well over our speed limits. We need all the luck we can get with this one."
The doctors began immediately. They weren't sure what they were dealing with yet. They only knew it was killing her. After the first incision, they knew. The girl wasn't going to make it.
Nonetheless, they tried to stop the internal bleeding as to take control of the situation. Even without a scan or x-ray, they knew that she most likely had a concussion, broken bones, and fractures all over her body. Soon the room grew quiet. They all looked at each other and then back at the girl as the beeps turned to a single noise. No one wanted to speak, but they all knew what was next.
"Call it."
"Time of death: 8:41 pm"
Population: 244
The news of the young girl quickly spread as the Local Lochby News reporter arrived at the scene of the crime. A middle-aged woman with blond hair and too much makeup jumped out of the news van, followed by a frantic cameraman.
"Make sure I'm in focus at all times, or I'll find someone who is competent enough to take your place," the reporter stated.
"Yes ma'am," the cameraman replied, avoiding eye contact.
"Jerry, you better not pull that stunt from last week at the bake sale where my knees were in the shot after I told you that I was having a bad leg day. I have worked too hard, and this is going to be the biggest story in Lochby history. When have you ever heard of a hit-and-run here? Never. If you make me look bad, you are so screwed."
"Yes ma'am, I apologize for last week. My arms were tired from holding the camera all day because you wanted to keep checking your makeup. I will try my best to be better, ma'am," Jerry said as he repositioned the camera to prevent having to take more pain relievers for his shoulder later.
The two checked the reporter's makeup before going live. Jerry motioned for the reporter to speak. Three. Two. One.
"I am Martha Walters, and this is Local Lochby News coming live at the scene where a young girl was injured in what appears to be a hit-and-run on Heart Avenue. She was rushed to St. Michael's Hospital, and we have no further information on her status. We do, however, have one of the fine citizens of Lochby who noticed the girl in the road and helped her."
A woman messed with her hair before coming into the view of the camera. She grabbed the microphone from the reporter and immediately began to speak.
"Hi everyone. My name is Fiona Culton. You all may know me from the bake sale last week at the church. I made the brownies that were to die for. It was a marvelous day! If you missed out, we will be hosting a potluck on the Fourth of July so bring your best dishes. I know I will. See you there, everyone!"
The woman was about the leave when the reporter snatched the microphone back from her. Martha's brows furrowed with annoyance at Fiona. Her eyes that were once seen as innocent, were now pierced with rage toward the woman. The camera definitely caught it.
"Fiona, we wanted to discuss what happened to the girl and how you found her, if you don't mind me asking. I'll hold onto the microphone for now. You can just focus on telling us your side of the story. We all want to know what happened to the poor girl," the reporter retorted and her face went back to its artificial innocence.
Fiona began, "Well my husband and I were saying goodbye to a friend after having a game night. We were walking her out when we saw the girl in the road. She looked about ten years old to me. Our friend called the sheriff, and my husband wanted to check her pulse. I was against it at first because I have seen movies where the bodies should not be moved after an accident, and, frankly, I didn't want my husband touching a dead girl. He insisted and found a faint pulse. I was over joyous that she was fine! She was sent off to the hospital shortly afterwards. Can I go now? I really can't stay any longer Martha. I have a pot roast in the oven. It's a new recipe."
"Thank you...Mrs. Culton. You've heard it here folks, a tragedy such as this has struck this town for the first time in history. I am Martha Walters and this is Local Lochby News. Tune in next time. Good night, Lochby."
The news channel was on in every residents' homes that night. They all grew worried and prayed for the little girl's recovery. They didn't know that twenty-five minutes before, the little girl's soul had left Lochby, and her body was being prepared to be identified. In a home three blocks away from Heart Avenue, a single man noticed his missing daughter, turned off his television, and rushed to St. Michael's Hospital where he heard the news about his daughter. In a home not too far from the hospital, a citizen was becoming overly wary.
"It's such a shame what happened to that little girl. I can only imagine what her parents must be going through. Just the thought of you being hurt like that makes my blood boil," Lori Hatfield, a worrying mother, expressed.
"It's insane. What kind of jerk would just leave her there to die anyway? Gina Hatfield asserted as her anger soon became sadness.
Her mother could see the deep sadness in her eyes and tried to ease it with some light humor. She knew the situation was too serious and would consume her thoughts, but she figured she'd at least try to console her daughter.
"You know, I never liked that news reporter, Martha Walters. She was so two-faced in high school, and I doubt someone like her changes. She needs to be put in her place. Now I'm not saying that she needs to be slapped, but maybe that would take some of that makeup off as well, you know?"
Gina looked at her mother in shock as to what she had just said. Lori gave her daughter a big smirk, and they both began to burst into laughter. She called her mother mean and left for her room. Closing the door behind her, she plopped onto her bed, face first. Because she was terrible at holding her breath, she realized that was not smart of her and immediately lifted her head. She breathed in the fresh air as if she just resurfaced from swimming. There was one thing that was biting at her. She'd never heard of crime of any sorts in Lochby. She simply said one thing and drifted off to sleep.
"Why do I feel like there's more to come from all this?"