CHAPTER SIX HUNDRED and TWENTY-ONE
Thursday morning — 6:01 a.m.
Blane knocked on the loft door. When no one came to the door, he opened the door and went inside.
“Hello?” Blane asked from the door, but the cloth face mask he was wearing kept the sound from moving.
Feeling uncomfortable, he quietly walked across the floor. Jacob and Jill’s door was opened. He peeked inside.
Jill was fast asleep.
Blane cleared his throat and Jill sat up. She grabbed the cloth mask off her bedside table and put it on.
“Sorry,” Blane said.
“What’s happened?” Jill jumped out of bed. She picked up his phone and look at it. “Did you hear about Sam?”
“No, this is something else,” Blane said.
He stepped into the doorway. He held the hand of a six or seven year old Native American girl and an infant in his arms.
“You remember Ooljee?” Blane asked. He gestured with the infant in his arms. “This is her brother. I don’t know his name…”
“Bidzil,” Ooljee said.
“But they call him ‘Ben,’” Blane said.
“They just told you that because you’re white,” Ooljee said.
Blane grinned at her.
“What’s going on?” Jill asked.
“I wondered if you could check them,” Blane said.
Jill got out of bed. She came over to Blane and knelt down to Ooljee.
“Hi, Ooljee,” Jill said. “Would you mind if I touch you?”
Ooljee gave Jill a long look before giving her a slight nod. Jill touched Ooljee’s face, throat, and torso.
“You seem hungry,” Jill said.
“My Mom is on a trip and my grandparents are sick,” Ooljee said. “We ran out of food.”
“How awful,” Jill said. Her eyes flicked to Blane, who looked as horrified as she felt. “Why don’t we get you something to eat?”
“And my brother too?” Ooljee asked. “He’s sick. Is Katy here? My cousin?”
Jill reached out to Blane and he set the child in her arms. Jill instinctively cooed to the young boy.
“Your cousin?” Blane asked.
“Paddie?” Ooljee said. “He’s about this big…”
She held out her hand above her head.
“Has white hair?” Ooljee asked. “White skin?”
“He’s here, but he’s sick,” Jacob said.
“Katy?” Ooljee asked. “She’s probably not sick because of her mother’s gift.”
“Her what?” Blane asked trying to play it cool.
Ooljee pointed to herself, “I’m on the spirit way. I can see what people are by looking at them. Like you, Uncle Blane, have new skills from your new blood.”
“Okay,” Blane said with a nod. “I believe you.”
Ooljee gave him a beautiful smile. She was a small girl, but her mother, Margaret Peaches, was small in size. The girl’s skin was the color of milk and coffee. Her long hair was perfectly brushed into braids, and she wore clean clothing.
“Where’s your mom’s husband?” Blane asked.
Denver Cereal continues tomorrow…
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