(Jenna’s)
Gang of Deadheads
a
World of Deadheads
novel
Paul Atreides
Copyright © 2014 Paul Atreides
Cover art and design by Nancy Godfrey
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This book is available at bulk and discount rates to Retailers and Libraries. For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact: CreateSpace Direct online at
https://www.createspace.com/pub/l/createspacedirect.do
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 1503291448
ISBN-13: 978-1503291447
DEDICATION
Dedicated to fans of the afterlife and ghostly fun everywhere. And to the multitude of people who work tirelessly to help victims of domestic violence and abuse.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To the Usual Suspects: Laurey Ray, who critiqued every word and then some, Rebecca Doll-Suppes, who helped with some formatting, and Jill Reilly who looked for holes in plot and inconsistencies between the two books of this wonderful world. To Henderson Writer’s Group—hosts of the Las Vegas Writer’s Conference, and my critique groups for true insight and making me a better writer.
Nancy Godfrey, friend for decades, for another cover design that exceeded expectations. She again made changes and tweaks without complaint for another excellent, attention-grabbing cover.
My wife, Sue, who rallies round, comes up with things when I write myself into a corner, encourages, proofreads everything that comes off my printer, and keeps me laughing.
Finally, to all the World of Deadhead fans who’ve written so many great things about Marvin, kept telling their friends about it, and buggedme to finish Jenna’s story. Isincerely hope you feel it was worth the wait.
also by paul atreides
Novels
(Marvin’s) World of Deadheads
Collected Stories
5:4:99
A tiny sampler of six short stories
Short Stories
“Rosalie’s Best Christmas” in
Patchwork Path: Christmas Stocking
“Heirlooms of Misfortune” in
Patchwork Path: Treasure Box
“Me, My Dad, & Josh” in
Writer’s Bloc III
Plays
Phallusies
Fusion
(Featured on the NYC 9-11 Museum Artist’s Registry)
The Tryst
Sins of the Fathers
(Perusal scripts and royalty information for plays are available by email: [email protected])
A request for my readers:
As self-published authors we rely on our fans to help us out by telling their friends, family, and co-workers about our work. In addition to that, short and sweet reviews – even negative ones – placed on Amazon, Goodreads, or any other internet site which markets books, assists us in spreading the word about our work. And it helps other readers make informed decisions when going to buy that next book.
If you like this novel, I encourage you to write and post an honest review.
Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy this second adventure through the World of Deadheads. And, who knows, with any amount of luck there could be
many more adventures to com
-1-
“See? See? What did I tell you?” Marvin jumped from the booth in Epstein’s Deli, his favorite eatery near downtown Dayton, Ohio. He whirled around, his arms outstretched to include all the deadheads (as he had dubbed them shortly after he’d died, with sincere apologies to Grateful Dead groupies). Most had gotten used to his outbursts over the past months and ignored him as they lingered over coffee, or the bagel they’d snagged from the case.
“What? Dude, all she did was ask a simple question,” Tommy Sinclair said from the opposite side of the table where he sat next to Mike.
“Bullshit!” Marvin accused from his position behind the booth next to a window; the one he’d insisted on occupying since he grew weary of the waitress, ‘Tina-I’ll-Be-Your-Server-Today,” pushing and adjusting tables and chairs in some mad rush to keep up with the crowds of patrons. Well, the paying ones, anyway.
Of course, being alive and breathing, Tina couldn’t see the dead folks to know they were there and the chairs went right through them if they didn’t manage to scramble out of her way. It was the same booth where the group gathered each mid-morning for coffee, in the deli where Tommy had worked as a short-order cook before he’d been gunned down during a robbery-gone-bad in late 1969. On Sunday mornings, when the place was closed, they sat in comfort and leisure while Tommy fired up the grill to cook for a crowd of deadheads.
But, on this particular weekday morning they sat safely out of the reach of Tina’s slamming chairs, and Marvin pointed at the back of Jenna’s head. “She always accused me of trying to postpone the wedding and now look who’s hedging — again!”
“Marv, come on. All I asked was —” Jenna paused for a new tactic. “I mean, the vows can’t be “until death do us part,” we’re dead already. And who’s going to care now whether we’re married or not?”
“That’s not the point and you know it!” Marvin poked a finger into her back to emphasize his point.
Jenna swatted him away as blithely as she would a fly that had landed on her coffee cup. “Eternity is a long time, Marvin. I’ve only been here for a few days and you’re ranting about our wedding already.”
“Oh, here we go with the excuses again, huh?” Marvin wasn’t going to be dissuaded in such an off-handed manner.
“Come on, Brody, sit down.” Mike Hamilton pointed to the vacant seat next to Jenna. In college, he’d shortened Marvin’s last name of Broudstein to ‘Brody.’ Mike had died in a commuter plane crash in Buffalo, New York, one week after “Sully” Sullenburger safely landed a jetliner in the Hudson River, and sometimes wondered why his pilots couldn’t have been as talented. The two college friends reconnected when Mike attended Marvin’s funeral. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“You know you can be a petulant bitch sometimes,” Marvin grumbled at Jenna, but returned to his seat.
“And you can be an arrogant prick,” Jenna said pointedly.
Marvin peered at her out of the corner of his eye. “Oh … go fall down a flight of stairs.”
“Go step in front of a bus.” Jenna jabbed at him with an elbow so hard it drove through his ribs.
Marvin and Jenna looked at one another and grinned. The verbal sparring had been one of the things they’d both missed after Marvin’s death eighteen months earlier. Then, a few days ago, she died in a freak accident tumbling down the stairs of their condo building in a tangle of limbs with her friend and neighbor, Mrs. McClaskey. And the arguments resumed as if they’d never been apart.
Tommy tried to play the middle of the road. He wanted Jenna to like him, but he didn’t want Marvin mad, either. Tommy witnessed Marvin get hit by the bus and had been showing him the tricks of the dead trade ever since. He felt a special affinity toward him because Marvin reminded him of his brother. “Marvin, dude, people started shacking up years ago. Shit, the commune I grew up on, no one was married. It was all cool, man.”
Marvin picked up his coffee cup and it winked out of sight of the living just before Tina-I’ll-Be-Your-Server-Today
reached to yank it off the table. She stopped short, and the breath caught in her throat, but she managed to mutter a quiet “Jesus Christ!” and turned to bus the other tables. I am not going nuts. I need the job, but I don’t know how much longer… No. It’s better not to think about it, Tina. Just let it go. Let it go.
Marvin hoisted his cup across the table toward Tommy. “Look hippie, like I’ve told you before, we aren’t living on a commune. That ’60s crap ended a long time ago.”
Mike tapped Marvin’s forearm. “And, as I keep pointing out to you Brody, we don’t exactly “live” anywhere, now do we?”
Ignoring the remarks, Tommy fixed a mischievous grin on Jenna, one they all knew could lead to trouble. He held up a stop-sign hand to halt Jenna’s argument. “But, it could be a real gas. Just think about it. A huge, fancy wedding — and you know the place would be packed! — the dress of your dreams and it won’t cost you a dime.” He looked to Marvin and Mike for help.
Jenna pushed his hand away. “You know, Tommy, that silly grin may have worked with these two,” she said jutting her chin out to indicate both Marvin and Mike, “but it won’t go anywhere with me.”
“Oh, come on Jenna. It’ll be fun. I promise. And we can get Davy to help. You know this kind of thing is right up his alley. Didn’t he pick out a fabulous gown for your funeral?”
Marvin waggled his brows. “It is a hot one, all right.”
Jenna turned her head toward Marv to glare him down.
“You’ve got to admit that,” Mike said.
“Yeah, Mike, it is pretty,” Jenna agreed. “But — ”
“Please, Jenna? Please?” Tommy replaced his grin with a pleading, yet hopeful expression.
She heaved a sigh, tired of the fight, and waved a hand through the air.
Tommy’s face broke out into a big victory smile. “Cool! I’ll talk to Davy this afternoon during the visitation.”
“He’ll be there?” Jenna asked. “Why?”
“Well, because he dressed you for one thing — ”
“Everyone will be there, kiddo,” Marvin butted in. “I told you, I couldn’t believe it when I walked into my funeral. Wall to wall, and I didn’t know anyone but Mike, Davy, and this nutcase here.” He pointed to Tommy.
“Speaking of that, I need to get myself ready. If I have to enter the room like some debutante at her coming-out ball I’ve got a lot of work to do. What time is it?”
It was only when dealing with the living that the dead ever needed to worry about time, yet Mike glanced at the ever-present watch on his wrist. “Going on eleven-thirty.”
Jenna drained her cup, set it on the table, went to slide out of the booth and bumped halfway through Marvin before the strange melding of molecules stopped her. “Come on, Marv, get up. Let me out.”
Marvin didn’t budge. “You still didn’t give me an answer. A wave of the hand is not a ‘yes.’ ”
“I’ll think about it. Now, come on, get out of my way.” Jenna learned fast how much pressure and speed she needed to maneuver in this world. She waited all of two seconds, then rammed right through him and headed for the door. Phantom laughter rolled around the diner as she walked through the front of the building and headed home.
One of the mid-morning regulars of Epstein’s (dead, of course) whistled. “Wow. That’s one feisty woman you have there, Broudstein.”
Marvin graced the guy at the table across the aisle with a broad, genuine smile. “Yep, she is, isn’t she?”
“Dudes, we probably should head out too.” Tommy turned to Mike. “The bus should hit our stop in less than ten minutes. By the time we get to the hotel suite and change, we’ll barely have enough time to get over to the funeral home.”
Marvin and Mike drained their cups and handed them off to Tommy. As Tina began a visual sweep of the empty tables, the cup Jenna had left disappeared from sight. Tina stopped, closed her eyes, and did a slow, mental count to ten and emitted a long, low growl. Tommy moved his way through the diner, waited for Tina to open her eyes, and then he dropped the dirty cups into the bus tray at the waiter’s station with a clatter. She let out a frightened yelp and ran to the Ladies room.
Tommy’s ears filled with the guffaws of the remaining deadheads as he made his way out to the street.
-2-
Jason watched the scuffle unfold from the far end of the alley, ready to take the man the instant he stood from his dead body. Anger written on her face, Jenna charged along the narrow pathway and startled Jason. In the time it took him to turn and signal to Nancy for help, Jenna lunged for the gun she saw pointed at a cowering victim.
The assailant hesitated. An odd numbness stabbed through his forearm while confusion flickered across his face. He looked down at his now-empty hand before he turned his attention back to his young wife who had dared to question him. “I don’t need any gun to shut you up, bitch! I’ll just knock the teeth right out of your mouth. Maybe then you’ll learn.”
Jason came down the alley, his already imposing stature increasing in size with each yard of distance; the darkness within him reaching out in its seething, tumultuous pain and hunger. That someone so new to the world of the dead would need to be punished saddened him, yet he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted from his immediate task. He called out to stop her, his voice booming, “Jenna Wilson ...”
Jenna turned at the sound of her name, froze for an instant, threw the gun and ran.
As much as he wanted to go after her, Jason had to stay. As head of the Keepers, the evil he’d come to envelope in the prison of his body was a far greater danger in the world than the one who’d just fled. He turned and waited for the event to unfold, ready to devour the man, but the beating only continued.
The woman ducked a punch and her husband’s fist pounded into the concrete wall. Asphalt cinders embedded into the woman’s palms as she scrambled on her knees to escape while he stood howling in pain. Then she regained her feet and ran toward the street, gasping and screaming for help between sobs.
Jason scanned the asphalt for the gun that should have provided the woman her ultimate freedom, it hit the ground and spun away, but he thought sure it had remained within reach. He moved toward the young man, expecting he’d been quick enough to recover the weapon and perhaps stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. Confused, Jason turned in the direction the young victim had run, shook his head, and his body returned to normal.
Nancy spoke in a soft voice. “It’s here. I have it.”
“What? No. You can’t do that.”
“If I hadn’t picked it up, he would’ve killed her.” A tremble coursed through Nancy’s body.
Jason frowned. “No. It was he who would’ve died.”
“How? How could he have ended up being the victim?”
“Why do you think we were here?” Disappointed, Jason scowled at his protégé. “I can see you still have a lot to learn before I’m able to shed my burden and find peace.”
“I don’t understand. They both lived. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Evil on that plane is as bad as it is on ours. Do you think he’ll stop now that he has no gun? We do not interfere.”
“I simply thought —”
“I can understand that young Jenna wouldn’t be aware, though she appears to be as headstrong as Marvin had been when I needed to stop him from killing her. But, you? You know the rules, you should not have touched the gun.” Jason’s anger rose with each word and his body again expanded in height to tower above Nancy. “Had neither of you broken into the encounter, the young woman would’ve gained control of the gun, her assailant would be dead and safe within me, where he could do no more harm and become aware of his sins.”
Afraid, Nancy took a step back, but her eyes never left his. “I’m sorry. After Jenna knocked the gun from his grip, I feared for the woman’s safety.”
“We do not interfere!” Jason repeated. He turned his eyes to the street where Jenna had run. Standing silent for a moment, his anger
dissipated, he began to walk and his stature lessened.
Nancy trailed after him. “What do we do now?”
“You will dispose of the gun. I’m going to handle Ms. Wilson.”
“What do you mean ‘handle’.”
Where the alley began at the street, he stopped but didn’t turn to face her. “What would you have me do?”
“This was her first offense. How many times did I see you watch over Marvin’s attempts to kill Jenna, only to chuckle and shake your head, and issue a soft word of warning?”
“His assaults were lame, laughable. In the end, I gave him too much latitude. But, in her, I could feel the menace. Her intent was clear.”
“But you stopped her.”
He looked down at Nancy. “And, so, this dismisses her infraction?”
“No, but …”
Jason turned to the right and continued walking in the direction Jenna had taken. “I cannot allow her to interfere.”
“Let me talk to her.” When his step faltered, Nancy knew she’d at least gotten him to consider an alternative and she ran to catch up. “At least give her the chance to learn.”
“When?”
“Today.” Nancy paused to consider her tactic. “At the cemetery during her interment.”
“And should you fail?”
“I won’t.”
Jason stared at her.
Nancy shrugged. “You’ll be there.”
-3-
“Come on, come on. Where the hell are you?” Marvin paced through the living room waiting for Jenna. He’d already showered and changed into the Armani suit Davy chose for him. He glanced at the clock on his way through the kitchen to the balcony at the front of the building.
[Jenna's] Gang of Deadheads Page 1
