Never Wake the Dead

by Bajaña, Edgar

  The green garbage truck echoed down a crayon of three story row houses. The wretched sound of the compactor overshadowed the chirping of the birds sitting on the last tree on the block.

  Few residents could sleep when the sanitation workers were working. They were loud and wore green jumpsuits, working as best as they could. They picked up the trash as efficiently as possible. The parked cars on the side streets were an obstacle, and they were not supposed to be there this morning. But no one has been observing the 'No Parking Hour' signs for the last couple of weeks. The police department was too busy in other parts of the City, collecting severed body parts. The last thing on their mind was passing out parking tickets

  The sanitation workers worked around the parked cars and made the best of it. They worked their way down the block, clearing the sidewalk, loading heavy duty black garbage bags and kitchen trash into the back of their green truck. They lifted one bag after another, without fail.

  Throughout the morning, most of the bags were very manageable and even easy to handle.

  Everything was going fine until one of the sanitation workers found a bag that didn't feel right.

  The sanitation worker's name was Terence Jackson, and he was a large black man who wore a weight-lifting belt across his belly. Quickly, he released his grip on the bag. He couldn't help but think twice about moving it. Terence stood there, paralyzed by what he felt inside. Something deathly cold crawled over the meat of his hand.

  Joseph, the other sanitation worker, threw his bag into the back of the truck. Joseph was a thin man who wore thick glasses. He grabbed another bag off the sidewalk and noticed that Terence was no longer working, no longer hauling trash.

  "What's wrong?"

  Terrence didn't say a word.

  Joseph placed his bag down on the ground and went to see what kept the big guy from working.

  There was a moment of silence between them when both men looked at the black bag. It was as if they knew what was inside, was no good. They could sense it.

  Either way, the bag at their feet had caused them to get a little hot underneath the collar and red in cheeks. Their anxieties rose with a notion of what that they had to deal with, right then. Both men looked at each other and raised their eyebrows with suspicion. Joseph finally spoke up, trying to gloss over it.

  "What's up, T? Let's get this bag off the street and move on."

  "I don't know if we can. Here. Feel this."

  Joseph tried to lift the bag. Then, they both took turns trying to raise the bag off the sidewalk. But, the bulk of bag never left the ground. The back of their necks shivered every tine they tried. Both men felt something weird inside, something that shouldn't have been there. Joseph grabbed the bag again. It felt heavier than the others ones that he had collected from the cracked sidewalk, just before.

  "Awe damn," Joseph kicked the bag toward Terence. The bulk of the bag shifted in Terence's direction.

  Terence tried to sense the bag's weight. He had experience telling that sort of thing. He was an amateur weightlifter and could easily tell that there was something inside that weighed about 150 pounds. It was too heavy to be regular trash. He hoped that it was just a big dog that was thrown away by heartless owners. And that was all. Then again, he wished it wasn't.

  "So what is it?" asked Joseph.

  "I don't know, if we should mess with this one, O."

  Then, a wicked smiled appeared on Joseph's face.

  "Maybe, we could take a look inside."

  "No, that wouldn't be a good idea, O."

  For a moment, they thought it over. Then, the silence was broken by Joseph.

  "To hell with it," said Joseph with a smile. He pulled out a plastic box cutter from his green jumpsuit.

  "No. No. Don't do that. Don't."

  A second later, Joseph sliced open the bag.

  Without warning, the lifeless body of a girl fell out of the garbage bag. She slipped onto the street floor, like a slimy fish wrapped in newspaper. She reeked of death, and terror paralyzed the men.

  A second later, Ralph, the driver of the garbage truck, got out of the cab and walked around to the back of the truck to see what was holding everyone up.

  "Hey..." The driver called to them. "Come on let's get this show moving. What's the deal?"

  The driver saw both men standing there, like a pair of dummies, looking at the ground. At first, the driver could not see what they were looking at because his obscured by the thick bumper of a Ford Explorer.

  "What's the deal, guys?"

  Terence and Joseph said nothing to Ralph. They acted as if he did not exist. Instead, they just kept looking at the floor. The driver's job was to make sure that they didn't fall behind. Ralph was good at it, too. He got a bonus every time he drove the route on time. But this time, the driver failed to get their attention.

  "Come on guys! Let's keep going. What's up?"

  Finally, the driver followed their gaze around the bumper of the truck and toward the floor, and his face dropped. He was just as surprised at what the two sanitation workers had found.

  Now, all three men were looking the same thing. They looked at the dead girl laying in the street. Half her body was on the street, and the other half was on the sidewalk. She laid there, like something the night had chewed up and spit out.

  "...Damn it." Said the driver. "Why did you guys have to open that bag?"

  All three men stood around the mangled body of the girl, unable to look away. They looked at her without sympathy. They gave her no sermon, no prayer, nothing for her soul to rest. No one respected the dead like that back then. Not like they do now. Instead, they gawked at her.

  They stared at the victim's dyed red hair that partly covered her face. With their eyes, they followed the strands of her hair that stuck to her pale white forehead and pale cheeks. Her youth looked all used up. They followed a string of bruises along her neck and the curves of her shoulders and arms.

  It appeared as if most of the blood inside of her body had been squeezed out. The girls' face and hands were colorless. The girl's body now looked like an empty vessel, where there had once been a soul.

  Ralph called the police on his cell phone, while Terence looked into the eyes of the dead girl and it scared him. But, he couldn't look away. He had never seen anything like that in real life, only on television.

  "Her eyes…" he whispered to himself.

  Terence realized that it was the first time that he looked into the eyes of a dead girl and he gasped.

  The girl's eyes were still open, and he tried to close them with his chubby fingers. Terence pulled his hand away, and her eyes reopened, ever so slowly. They would not close on their own for at least another couple of hours. Terence stood there paralyzed by what he saw. It was horrible. Her dead eyes revealed a door that led to nowhere.

  As the morning light broke, He turned to look at Joseph A. Hillard. A smile appeared across his face. But, Terence recognized something different. He saw the devil dancing behind his dark black glasses.

  For a moment, his blues were faded, pale and empty. It was as if, Joe were already dead.

  15

  Echoes of the Night

  Tonight, James was asleep at Charlene Harris’s place in Tribeca, over Eighth Avenue a loft apartment overlooking Eighth Avenue. It was pretty nice spacious spot. He wondered how she paid for it on a cop’s salary.

  Then, he went back to thinking about Iris. The beast took her from underneath his nose.

  It was four o'clock in the morning, when world was still some what quiet and normal. Outside, the wide avenues of Manhattan were empty, except for the traffic lights turning green, yellow then red, one after one, from one end of the island to the other.

  There wasn't a car in sight. There was only a thin fog hovering, just above the road and sidewalk.

  At the time, James was asleep when he whispered to himself, ”It's not real."

  Charlene Harris laid naked next to him and overheard every word that came out of his
mouth. She felt terrible for him.

  Don't look at him she thought. Whatever you do, don't look at him. Before James agreed to sleep over, he had her make a promise. He warned her not to look at his eyes, while he slept. A month ago, she asked him why and he revealed his eyes to her. They were as white as milk.

  “My God,” she said, remembering that day.

  His eyes looked so odd. It was the first secret that James revealed to her. James knew that he couldn't keep something like that a secret for long. Especially, if they were going to try and save this relationship. In a way, he couldn’t say no to her either.

  Don't do it, she thought. Don't look.

  Charlene got out of bed for a little while and stared out the window of her study. She wondered if he had a condition like post traumatic stress. He should have gone to the Department's shrink in downtown Manhattan, like she told him to.

  But, she knew that there was something else that he kept from her. He was afraid that he would sound crazy. After the case of Jesse Torres ended, he thought that he could shake it off. He didn't want to talk about it with her or remember anything that went on that day. There was no way that was going to happen, as long he was still on the force. He tried to share as much as he could with Charlene and she did comfort him.

  Charlene tried to get James to change his mind about going to a therapist. But he resisted and she didn't want to push and ruin things between them. But things were already different between them. She could tell.

  In his apartment, there were James’s books scattered throughout the floor, containing information about ancient symbols and the religions of Sumeria and Babylonia. These were ancient civilizations that are located in what is now, present day Iraq.

  Charlene was glad that James was starting to ask questions about himself.

  The streets of New York were practically empty, except for a few drunks whose footsteps echoed throughout the canyon of buildings. Like zombies, they stumbled around the street floor looking for another drink. They were an insatiable horde that would stop at nothing for the next drop. And when they had their fill, they would be ready to lay in a dark place and pass out.

  Charlene listened to James, as she slid back under her covers and tried to go back to sleep.

  "It's not real. Things like that don't exist. Things like that have never existed. I'm just losing my mind. That's all. It's not real. None of this is real."

  You can't look at him. You promised him that you would not to look him.

  At the foot of James's bed, a bottle of vodka laid on its side. The alcohol spilled on his books and the remaining liquid had long evaporated into the air. The pages were stiff and wrinkled and the sentences written in black ink had bled together, making everything indecipherable.

  The night before, James wanted to burn those books and declare that there was nothing in there for him. There was nothing in those books that could tell him who he was. He was about to set the books on fire, when he passed out midway on alcohol and pills.

  James continued whispering as he slept. "Come on, don't you care about catching the killer. He's running loose in your old neighborhood and you don't care. If you don't, I do. And I am going to make sure that you care about all the girls that are going to die at this killer's hand. And every time one dies, I will make sure that you feel her pain. I swear to God that I'll make you feel as terrible as my son felt when he died. I swear."

  Charlene was too worried to sleep. She was taken back by James talking in his sleep and the things he said. She promised James that she would not look at him when he was going through his night. But, it has been getting worse for him. He told her to stay away. But, Charlene couldn't.

  Beware all who pass through here. What could be so bad, she thought.

  For a moment, she looked over at him, while he spoke and turned restlessly in his sleep. She wondered what tormented him tonight and the night before. At that moment, she realized that she didn't really know him.

  She tried not to listen. However, she could not pretend to sleep anymore. Just one look, she thought.

  And nothing more, but one look.

  When Charlene decided to take a peak at James's face, he was in the middle of a nightmare, about a woman trying to escape a cemetery. The dream was different than the many he had before. In his dream, Charlene was scared by something lurking inside the cemetery.

  James dreamed of the dead before. But, they looked different now. They all looked different now.

  In the past, he used to dream of dead people who had a glow about themselves. Now, the glow was gone and there was a darkness to them. The dream culminated in a dying sun that would never rise again. The dream fell upon him with such force that his body perspired.

  As the sun slowly disappeared, he felt an emptiness growing in his stomach. He could not shake the feeling that the dream was a premonition of terrible things to come.

  But, that wasn't all. In his dream, the dead girl was Charlene. He also heard her scream.

  "They're coming for us! They're coming for all of us! Run!"

  No matter how much he tried not to listen to her, he heard every word. and he never forgot them.

  In bed, James repeated Charlene's words, until they became incoherent. Until, they became one. Each time, his voice became a little louder. After a while, he slowed down and he became quiet, a murmur.

  James's nightmare began with him and the Chief standing on a police car, looking into Calvary Cemetery in Woodside, Queens. He looked for Charlene while the Chief held a gun to his head.

  James knew exactly what this dream meant. He knew that there was another murder case coming into the precinct. This time, he felt something strange in his dream, like never before, like the buzzing of electricity flowing through every pore of his body.

  As James slept next to Charlene, the hair on his forearm stood up.

  In his dream, James used the scope of his weapon to search for any clue that could lead him to the Charlene's killer.

  There was nothing.

  Instead, he found the Chief who was acting like a madman holding a gun to his head. There was an evilness growing inside the Chief and James felt him changing into something else. It was difficult place in words. The longer the Chief stood next to James, the crazier he became.

  "Do you hear her?" James said to himself, as he slept.

  The dream meant another thing.

  James knew that there was something going on out there in the world, getting under the skin of the dead, making them do crazy things. That was when he saw the three dark figures standing deep inside the cemetery. There were three of them, dark shadows lurking in the cemetery. Never before had he encountered something like that.

  As James turned in his sleep, his face dripped with sweat, fear and worry.

  In the nightmare, James stood as tall as he could. He tried to be strong and brave. But every second out there in the evening sun, he wanted to crumble like Charlene, like the dead woman he saw inside the cemetery. He wanted to turn into nothing, just like her. He wanted to feel nothing, like when he drank. It was the drink that smoothed everything over for him, made things easier, bearable. It was how he coped at being different.

  Back in the loft, Charlene worried as she listened to James ramble on. She did not like the things that came out of his mouth. The more she heard, the more James became a stranger. His words were dark things that she found disturbing.

  She promised James that she would not look at him. But, she knew that she could no longer keep her promise. She had to know.

  When Charlene looked into James’s eyes, it took no time at all. In a black of an eye, she found herself lying inside a large black hole. It could have been a coffin, maybe not. She opened her eyes wide and she saw a million stars scattered across the night sky, like sparkling dust. She felt relieved at the view in front of her and her right arm no longer hurt.

  Then, she smelled the fresh earth. She laid just below the ground. It was cold and she wanted to cover herself with a bla
nket. She realized that she was naked and felt embarrassed of her nakedness. The ground felt cold against her bare shoulders, back, legs and buttock. She shuttered and a shiver made its way up her spine. Until, she exhaled a vaporous breath.

  "James?"

  She looked to her side and hoped that he was there. But, there was nothing but darkness on all sides of her.

  "James? Where are you?"

  Without James, Charlene felt alone and lost.

  Charlene stood up and felt her way around in the dark. Every direction she went, she felt a wall of dirt surrounding her. Her eyes widened, as she realized where she was being held. But, she did not want to say it out-loud. Instead she started to panic because she was trapped. She knew it.

  Since a young age, Charlene had aways felt claustrophobic. In this respect, she was similar to James. They never went to crowded parties or concerts together.

  "James, where are you? James."

  Charlene looked up and saw that the top of the dirt wall was not that high. She jumped up and tried to climb out. But, it was difficult. She tried again and she only managed to get her head and arms out. She tried to hold herself up. But, her arms barely had the strength to keep her above ground. Her legs and feet dangled a foot off the ground. She looked around as much as she could to figure out where she was. She felt disoriented. Slowly, she realized where she was.

  "Oh God." She said. "James. Help me. This can't be real."

  There was a row of tombstones glowing in the moonlight. She started to breath harder, realizing that she was surrounded by a field of graves. She was in a cemetery.

  "Help!" she screamed.

  Charlene could not let go of hope. She wanted to call out to someone to help her out of the dirt hole. Maybe the caretaker would come by and help her, once he heard her call for help.

  All she wanted to do was to get back home, to return to James. She missed home. She blamed herself for looking into his eyes. She should have listened to him. James begged her not to look.