Free Touch of Death by Kelly Hashway

hand, my writing hand.
    Someone screamed. We all turned to see what had happened. Melodie shrieked and pointed at a volunteer, a middle-aged guy who was swatting at his shoulder. He had a brownish lump on him. The lump moved, giving us a better view of its matted fur. The bloody squirrel was digging its claws into the guy’s back. Foam sprayed from the squirrel’s mouth as it sank its teeth into the guy’s neck.



Chapter 8
    I didn’t know why, but I grabbed a coat off the table and threw it over the guy’s head. Melodie and Mike were yelling at me, but I couldn’t even process what they were saying. All I cared about was getting that squirrel off this guy’s neck. He fell to the floor, gripping a lump under the coat. He had the squirrel. With a sickening ripping sound, which could only be the sound of his flesh tearing, he pried the squirrel off himself. He cried out, almost dropping the coat and squirrel. I reached for a toolbox on the floor and opened it wide.
    “Here!” I yelled over his screams. “Put it in here.”
    He held the coat over the toolbox and dropped the squirrel inside. I snapped the box shut, locked it, and backed away like it was a bomb.
    The squirrel chattered and must have been going crazy locked up in there, because he was actually moving the toolbox, even with the tools in it. I wasn’t sure how the squirrel even fit in there with all the hammers, screwdrivers, and other things inside. If it didn’t quit moving around, it might end stabbing itself to death.
    “Jake, are you okay?” Mike asked.
    Jake had his hands pressed to the back of his neck. Blood spilled out around them, soaking his beige Carhartt jacket. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, taking out a table on his way down.
    “Someone call 911!” Mike yelled.
    Melodie already had her phone out and was giving an address to the operator. “They’re on their way.”
    Mike was practically cradling Jake in his lap. His jacket was off, and he was using it to soak up the blood. “Okay, everyone else clear out. We’re done for today. Leave your tools where they are.”
    “What about the squirrel?” I pointed my foot at the toolbox.
    A kid from school—Brian something or other—said, “My dad’s a vet. I’ll call him.”
    “Just kill the thing.” Tommy grunted. “Look what it did to Jake.”
    “No,” Melodie and I protested. Mike and Tommy looked at us like we were crazy.
    I was still shaking, but I couldn’t stand the thought of Tommy or Mike smashing the squirrel with a hammer. “You can’t kill it. It’s a squirrel. It got spooked or something.”
    “You call that getting spooked?” Tommy asked.
    “It probably freaked out because it got in here and couldn’t find a way out. Animals act really weird when they feel trapped,” I insisted.
    Brian flipped his phone shut. “My dad’s just around the corner. He said he’d be here in a minute.”
    That made me feel a little better. At least if the vet decided to kill the squirrel, he’d do it in a humane way. One that didn’t involve a hammer or a two-by-four.
    Sirens blared in the background, and brakes squealed as the ambulance pulled up to the building. We stood around staring at each other as the paramedics took Jake out on a stretcher. They said he’d lost a lot of blood and would need a series of rabies shots, but he’d be okay. Mike’s brow was sweating, probably because he was going to have to fill out another accident report. I swear I overheard him ask Tommy if he thought Jake would sue.
    Brian’s father got there right after the paramedics left with Jake.
    “Luke Hemshaw, veterinarian.” He reached out and shook Mike’s trembling hand.
    Mike pointed to the toolbox. “It’s in there.”
    Dr. Hemshaw carefully opened the box. He gasped when he saw the squirrel and quickly slammed the toolbox shut again, which made the thing start chattering like crazy. He reached into his medical bag, muttering, “This is impossible. It can’t