How To Be Dead

by Dave Turner

  Dave relaxed again, and that was when an invisible energy sucker-punched him off his feet. He crashed to the floor, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. Something in his head screamed for him to run out the front door and never look back, but he couldn't tell if the voice belonged to him. He stood up, dusted himself down and renegotiated the stairs. Dave climbed and turned the tight corner when he reached the top.

  'GO AWAY' had been scratched thickly and deeply into the wall. He ran his fingers across the rough relief of the letters. Layers of paint and wallpaper peeked through at the edges like rock strata. He walked across the landing to his old bedroom door. The paint was peeling and it hung off its hinges. With some effort, Dave pushed it open, the bottom scraping and catching on the bare floorboards.

  There stood a little girl, no older than eight years old. She wore the same summer dress and sad expression Dave had last seen all those years ago.

  'Hello Emily,' he said.

  Her eyes narrowed. 'Go away!'

  'It's me. Dave. We used to play hide-and-seek together. You always won. Remember?'

  'You can't be. You're a grown up.'

  Dave smiled sadly. 'That's what happens.'

  'Not to me. You left. That made me cross.' Emily's lower lip jutted out.

  'Is this what this has all been about? You've been sulking?'

  Emily shrugged and stared at the floor. Dave could feel a smile beginning to curl at the edges of his mouth. All the terror and fear these walls had witnessed had been caused by a hissy fit.

  'I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave.' It was all he could think of to say and he didn't know what to do next. He remembered what Anne had done in the forest, and took a step forward. Emily turned away from him. He decided a different approach would be needed.

  'Do you want to play a game?' he asked. Emily spun round.

  'Like what?'

  'Whatever you want.'

  They spent the day playing hide-and-seek (Emily's suggestion), Princes and Princesses (Emily's suggestion) and Killer Zombie Kung Fu Cyborgs (Dave's suggestion). They laughed and teased each other. As the evening drew in, they sat on the bedroom floor.

  'I spy with my little eye something beginning with "D",' said Dave.

  'Door?' asked Emily. Dave looked over his shoulder.

  'Yeah, that'll do.' He winked at her.

  'This has been the best day.'

  'It has been, hasn't it?'

  'Dave?'

  'Yes, Emily?'

  'I'm cold.'

  'I know.' Dave held his hand out towards her. Emily smiled, though her eyes were heavy and wet with tears. She placed her hand in his and it was as if he was holding a breeze. They were surrounded by light and then, for a fraction of a moment, they were the light, until the darkness enveloped them and Emily was gone.

  Dave stepped out into the chill of the evening air and quietly closed the door behind him. From the pavement, he looked back at Number Fourteen, Meadow Close. It was now just another neglected house; a spooky story, an urban myth. Dave made a promise to himself that he would never again forget Emily.

  Once back in London, Dave transferred to the underground. It was the Saturday night lull, a time during which people were neither going out nor staggering back home, so he had the train carriage to himself.

  The exhaustion seeped into him and spread through his bones. He wondered what touching a ghost's soul did to the living. His head fell forward and his heavy eyelids closed. Blissful silence. All of a sudden, he felt as if he was falling and jerked back upright, the back of his head banging against the carriage window. A man in a tweed suit and fedora now sat opposite him. He doffed his hat to Dave. 'It's you!'

  'How nice to see you. Even better to be seen,' the man said. 'Fred Drayton.'

  'Dave Marwood. I'd shake your hand, but it would get all pan-dimensional and stuff.'

  'I see,' said Fred, who obviously didn't. 'You look tired.'

  'It's been a busy day.' Dave sighed.

  'Have you always been able to do this?'

  'Apparently so.'

  'It must be very unnerving.'

  'I'm starting to get the hang of it. How long have you been down here?'

  'Since August 12th 1957. They call it the Glorious Twelfth. Not so glorious for me, it turns out.'

  'How did you... well... y'know?'

  'It is not considered polite to ask a gentleman the cause of his demise,' Fred replied haughtily.

  'I'm sorry.' Dave hadn't realised that there was a whole new etiquette he would have to learn. He felt that it would be good manners to offer his services. 'It must be very lonely down here. I can help you... well... cross over to the other side, if you'd like.'

  'I get by. There are a few of us down here. Our paths cross from time to time. It's very kind of you to offer, but I'm just not ready to leave all this behind. I know this sounds foolish. I watch everyone making their journeys each day and it almost feels like I'm still alive. Almost.'

  It did not sound at all foolish to Dave. The train began to slow down and he wobbled to his feet.

  'This is my stop,' he said apologetically.

  'Of course. I'm sorry to have gone on.'

  'Not at all. I'll see you around? I'm always up for a chat and if you ever get bored of this...'

  'Thank you, Mr Marwood. That would be lovely.'

  Dave stepped out onto the platform and the doors closed with a hiss. The train pulled off and he waved it on its way. Fred Drayton disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel, continuing his journey with no destination.

  Dave walked back home and went straight to bed. Almost as soon as he sank under the covers, he fell asleep. This time, though, he slept like he had never been afraid.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Conrad West burst through the door of the UberSystems International boardroom like a small, yet well-dressed, explosion. He slipped off his jacket and slid into the chair at the head of the table in one silky movement.

  'I'm here to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I'm all outta bubble gum. Wait. There's some in my back pocket. Sorry.' Nervous laughter rippled through the executives in the room. 'Where was I? Oh yeah. Monday morning. Let's grab the week by the throat,' he said as he clapped and rubbed his hands together.

  'Or smother it with a pillow,' Dave said with a yawn. He tried to stop himself sliding down the smooth leather chair.

  'What was that, Marwood?' West asked.

  'Nothing, sir. Just very excited.'

  Dave returned to his thoughts, tuning out the white noise of corporate-speak. He had not spoken to Melanie since Saturday. After he'd returned home that night, he had fallen asleep, missed Sunday entirely and hadn't surfaced until this morning. He'd hoped to speak to her when he got into work, but he'd been dragged into this meeting and had only managed to wave to her across the office. Was this playing it cool? Too cool? Not cool enough? Should he wait longer? Being a grown up was rubbish, Dave decided.

  'I've looked at the figures. Right now, the market's colder than a witch's tit,' West told the room. 'We've been looking at new investment models. People already regard us as monsters that feed on faded dreams and broken promises made to small children. Let's not piss about. The Heart of Darkness Fund. Tobacco companies, arms manufacturers, petrochemical giants.'

  Brochures were passed around. Though the figures and formulas contained within them were incomprehensible to Dave, others gave low whistles and murmurs of approval.

  'As society crumbles, markets crash and governments fall, the returns could be phenomenal,' said West. The enthusiasm in the room made Dave feel uncomfortable. He raised his hand to speak.

  'Yes, Dave?'

  'I'm sorry, Mr West, but is this ethical?' There was a moment's pause before the room erupted in laughter. The suit next to him tapped him on the shoulder.

  'You're new here, aren't you?'

  'I love this guy! Listen, Dave, UberSystems International takes its employees' concerns very seriously and I'm sure we can allay them. Now if t
here are no more questions, then we'll move on. Bowen will talk to us about the company's new vision statement.'

  Bowen had entered the room unnoticed, like a ninja accountant. He took his place in the seat at West's right hand side. Meticulous in his movements, he removed a single piece of paper from a folder and placed it on the table.

  'The board have been working with one of the country's top consultants for several months in order to rewrite our corporate narrative. Here's what they have agreed upon.' Bowen cleared his throat and read from the paper.

  'UberSystem International's vision is to always be true to our vision.'

  'Punchy, don't ya think?' West grinned.

  Dave looked around at the people applauding with fervour in their eyes; wanting to be led, no matter where. He raised his hand again to disapproving glares.

  'And how much did that cost?' Dave asked.

  'I don't have the exact figure to hand,' said Bowen, 'but around two hundred thousand pounds.'

  This time Dave saw his whole future flash before his eyes. A near-life experience.

  'Life's too short for this,' he said, shaking his head. Silence. Dave made up his mind. He stood up, smoothed out his suit, and walked right out.

  Dave returned to his office and began filling his pockets with his Star Wars action figures. West didn't knock on the door; he strode in as if he owned the place. Which he did. That was fair enough, Dave thought.

  'Dave!' West smiled benignly. 'UberSystems International is like a big family. We laugh with each other, we fight with each other. Sometimes we hit one member over the head with a shovel and bury them under the patio for the insurance. But we don't stay mad at each other.'

  Dave let out a long sigh; one that had been growing since he had first walked through the doors of the building.

  'I'm sorry.'

  'Hey, it's alright. Nobody died.'

  'We're all dead, Conrad. Everybody in this office is dead and we're all just killing time until somebody comes along and puts us in the ground.'

  The office was bursting with the kind of silence that follows a detonation. Dave could tell by the look on West's face that nobody had dared talk to him like that for a long time, if ever. A crowd had gathered outside what Dave now assumed was no longer his office. Melanie fought her way to the front with a concerned look on her face.

  'Is everything alright, Dave?' she asked.

  West snarled. 'You walk out of that door, Marwood, and it will be the biggest mistake of your life. I guarantee it.'

  Accepting the challenge, Dave walked up to Melanie. He looked into her eyes and it felt, once again, as if she was the one and only thing keeping his heart going.

  'Did you know, the only reason I came into this place every day was to see you?'

  The kiss that followed was the most real and true thing Dave had ever experienced.

  'Is that a Stormtrooper in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?' Melanie asked slyly when their lips finally parted. She smiled.

  'Han Solo, actually,' Dave croaked.

  On this occasion, it only took Dave two attempts to find Crow Road. The weathered and faded brick buildings were a welcome contrast to the sharp edges and hard lines of the office he had just left for the last time. He was about to ring the bell of Number One, Crow Road when the electronic buzz of the lock revealed that he was already expected.

  Anne was waiting at the top of the stairs. She didn't say anything and simply led him inside. Death was leaning against the door to his office.

  'Glad to have you on board, Dave. The pay's terrible and the hours are awful, but I'll offer you this one bit of career advice. There's no 'I' in team. But there is 'tea'. So put the kettle on,' he said before disappearing into his office.

  'Just so you know, that was your orientation,' said Anne.

  'Thanks. Is Emily...?'

  Anne nodded. 'Yes. You did well. Little girl ghosts are the scariest.'

  Dave smiled. The weight of two worlds, the living and the dead, lifted from his shoulders.

  'I can't hear anything boiling!' Death shouted from the other side of his door. Anne dropped a heavy stack of folders into Dave's arms.

  'These need to be done by the end of the week.'

  BIG LIST OF AWESOME

  The publication of this book would not have been possible without the support and generosity of the following meat puppets. They rock.

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