Free Moonlighting in Vermont by Kate George Page B

shower yet again. I couldn’t seem to stay out of the mud. I clenched my teeth as I pulled off my jeans. My left leg was bleeding from my hip to my knee. My boots had protected my calf, and the jacket had protected my shoulder and arm. I had a few abrasions on my side where my jacket rolled away from my skin.
    I stood under the hot water and scrubbed the dirt out of my leg. I yelled like crazy as the gravel came away. I had a bunch of road rash and one pretty good gash in my leg. I must have slid over a sharp rock or piece of metal or something. The dogs whined at me through the door.
    I turned off the water, dried myself off, and dabbed the blood off my leg. Band-Aids would be useless. I pulled on an oversized tee-shirt and went down to my mudroom. I rummaged through the cupboard until I found some gauze and neon blue vet wrap I keep around for the animals. I used them to fix up my leg. I had to roll the vet wrap around my leg, hips and waist to keep the gauze on. Wonderful. I grabbed a bottle of Motrin off the bathroom shelf, a yogurt smoothie out of the fridge and headed up to bed. It had been a very long day.
    It was three in the morning when I realized I wasn’t going to sleep. I gingerly got out of bed and crept downstairs. I was walking like a little old lady. Everything hurt. I wondered where the expression ‘quiet of the night’ had come from. My night was filled with the sound of snoring dogs. Four dogs can make a lot of noise when they sleep. Only Diesel woke and followed me down the stairs. He stood at the kitchen door, vibrating his stubby little boxer tail.
    “Sorry, Bud. I’m not letting you out.” I knew he wanted nothing more than to chase the creatures of the night. Woodchucks, not vampires. Last time I’d let him out at night, he’d treed some poor animal and barked until his voice echoed through the hills and woke the neighbors. Diesel remained at the door, his expression expectant until he realized I wasn’t going to let him out. Then he sighed and collapsed on the doormat.
    I rummaged through the fridge wondering what to do. I don’t have many late night skills. I’m not an undercover novelist, and TV mostly bores me. I could read, but I didn’t want to. Yesterday’s sudoku puzzle? That could sometimes put me to sleep.
    But I didn’t really want to sleep. I wanted a revelation, a solution to my problems. I wanted the hand of God, or my fairy godmother, to tap me on the head and say “Bing, go out and play.” No. That’s Bill Cosby. What I needed was divine insight into the mind of a murderer.
    I was on the couch when my alarm blared early the next morning. I couldn’t shut it off from downstairs, so I groaned and rolled onto the floor. I hurt everywhere. I stumbled up the stairs, shut off the alarm, and headed into the bathroom. I pulled the vet wrap and gauze off my leg. I had to sit on the toilet and put my head between my knees. My leg looked disgusting, and it hurt like hell.
    I talked myself into the shower again and cleaned up the best I could. If I kept bathing like this, I was going to turn into a giant prune. Then I re-wrapped my leg and pulled on some sweats and a big tee-shirt. I limped down to the kitchen and raided the fridge. I scrambled some eggs and ate them with toast. Then I fed the dogs and the cat.
    When I sat down again, I noticed that there was blood on my sweats. Shit. I picked up the phone and dialed Max. He agreed to feed my animals for a couple of days and rang off. I sat there for a couple more minutes, bleeding and looking at the phone for inspiration. Who could I call? I didn’t want to bug Meg again. Jim had to be in the office this morning. In fact, most of my friends worked days. It was still early, but anyone I called would end up missing work.
    I called the office and left a message for Meg, telling her I’d be late to work. Then I shrugged myself into my scraped-up jacket and buckled on my boots. I rummaged through the mudroom and found my spare