by Thomas Grave
The cat tilted its head and glared at her with piercing, golden slits. Between hisses and snarls, it swiped at a book that fell over and knocked the snow globe off the dresser. Still dazed, Sara watched as the orb bounced off the floor and rolled into the shadows. The feline followed closely behind, and as soon as it hit the shadows, there was a brief flickering light. Sara only had time to blink. The next instant, both the globe and the cat had vanished from view.
“What is going on?” Sara whispered to herself. There were supposed to be answers here, but what she’d found only led her to much more confusing questions.
From outside the room, a voice she recognized answered her.
“I was kind of hoping you could tell me.” There was palpable relief in Sebastian’s voice. He came into the bedroom. “Are you okay?” he asked, putting his arms around her.
“I don’t know. Everything seems so off.”
He nodded intently. “That’s for sure. You lived here?”
Sara sighed heavily. “I feel like there’s a black hole where my memory should be. I remember you, us. But any details about anything else, they just aren’t there.”
She gestured at the wrecked room. “None of this registers. It’s like I’ve never been here before.
He studied her expression as she stepped away from him and stared at the corner where the snow globe had been just moments before.
“How am I here? How is this possible?” She paused briefly and squeezed his hands. “What did you do?”
It was a fair question for certain. Honesty was indeed the best policy, but this was not the place. They needed to be somewhere she could feel safe before he answered all her questions. At some point, he would have to come back here and properly investigate this place. No person could have lived here. This place was completely uninhabitable. As for Sara, he did owe her the truth.
“It’s a long story. One that I would be happy to share.”
She snuggled into his chest.
“I’ve been so lost without you,” he murmured.
“I’m here now.” A deep rumbling erupted from Sara’s stomach. “And I’m really hungry.”
“Okay, let’s get out of here. Hang on tight.” Sebastian swept her off her feet and blinked.
Tuesday, 11:46 pm
“Oh, my God,” Sara mumbled as he set her down on the wet grass. She swayed slightly, reaching out to grab anything she could for support. “I think I’m going to throw up,” she groaned, closing her eyes.
Sebastian took her hand and put his arm around her.
“Oh. My bad. I totally forgot about that. Give it a couple of seconds. It’ll pass. Take a deep breath,” he said, rubbing her back.
Sara straightened and surveyed the grass field and dense tree line in the distance. She narrowed her eyes, clearly puzzled. “How did we get here?”
Sebastian had blinked them to Druid Park, one of his favorite parts of Baltimore growing up. It boasted a swimming pool, greenhouse, lake, and a baseball field, but it also housed a local cemetery, an addition Sebastian had always found intriguing.
“I’ll explain that too. Come on, there’s a place around the corner from here where we can get some food. I figured it would be a good place for us to relax and talk a bit.”
Gothic street lamps illuminated the area, and a small fog rose to ankle level. A light drizzle fell around them, giving everything a haze. Sebastian took off his jacket and used it as a makeshift umbrella to cover them both. They huddled together under it and hurried toward the diner. A crack of thunder boomed close by, and they ducked inside just before the downpour began. Rain fell hard, battering the large windows of the restaurant.
They made their way to the back and sat down across from each other at a booth next to a large window. It was farthest from the door. The diner itself was almost completely deserted, except for the staff. An elderly couple occupied a table at the opposite end of the room. A waitress came right over with two glasses of water and took their order, scribbling ferociously on her notepad. Chunky Monkey ice cream for Sebastian, a small cup of coffee for Sara.
As soon as the waitress wandered off, Sara looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Chunky Monkey?”
“What? It’s awesome. You should try it.”
Sara winced playfully. “I’ll stick with coffee.”
As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, he told her everything. From her giving him the Book in his room, to the entire ordeal of what had happened with Jared, to her funeral. Sara listened to the entire story, nodding after each part of the story was revealed.
“Wow,” Sara said.
“Yeah, I can imagine it’s a lot to take in.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re Death?” she asked.
“Yes, but I don’t know all the specifics of it yet. It’s how I was able to . . .” He stopped and gestured toward her. “You know.”
“Bring me back from the dead.”
“Yeah.”
“I believe you.”
Sebastian blinked. “You do?”
“Yes,” Sara replied. “I don’t know how to explain it. A part of me feels some sort of connection to Heaven, or wherever I was. It feels like there’s something out there, calling to me. But I don’t know what. My memory is all fogged up.”
“How is your memory anyway? Anything coming back to you?”
“Bits and pieces,” Sara answered, tapping her finger on the table. “I remember being in your room. And, I—,” she paused. “I remember handing you the book.”
He inched forward, seemingly more interested than he was letting on. “Do you remember where you got it from?”
“No.” She spoke softly. “Honestly? I hardly remember anything about the last couple of months.”
“Anything?”
“Well, I remember us. Jared. Hope. Parts of the school. But other details of my life are blocked out. Other parts of my life aren’t even there. Like my parents, or my childhood for example. All of that is gone.”
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, thinking. Well, this is a little disappointing.
He hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but in the back of his mind he was obsessing over the situation. His girlfriend had given him a living book or instruction manual on how to be Death, then later that night, she’d died in one of the most bizarre ways possible. And now with her back from the dead, she didn’t remember how it came about in the first place. The only thing he could do was wait it out and pray her memory would return soon. Hopefully.
Outside the window, the rain let up a bit.
The waitress returned with the bowl of ice cream and Sara’s coffee. She placed both items on the table. “Can I get you two anything else?”
“Hmm, actually, I am kind of hungry,” Sara answered, grabbing the menu, and scanning it quickly. “Can I get a house salad?”
A salad? Interesting.
In all of the months they had been together, Sara had never ordered a salad. She was always more of a steak and burgers kind of girl. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, just different. Maybe her time in the light had helped her develop better eating habits? Not that she needed them. She was perfect.
Scribbling on her notepad once again, the waitress answered, “Of course, sweetie.”
Once the waitress walked away, Sebastian took another mouthful of the multi-colored ice cream. Even though she had rejected it earlier, he offered her a spoonful once again. From the large mountain of ice cream on the spoon, two drips fell. “You suuuure? It’s really good. It’s got banana, fudge chunks, and walnuts!”
Waving her hand subtly, she smiled. “No, no. I’m good, thank you.”
Sara’s soft face had a touch of sadness to it. She shifted her gaze and stared out the window. Red and green neon lights reflected off the puddles on the streets. In the reflection, something stirred. It was gone so quick, she was not even sure it had been there.
Then the waitress returned with a large salad in her hand. Just as she was about to put the salad down,
her eyes darted to the windows and she screamed. The plate clattered to the table, lettuce, tomatoes, and croutons flying everywhere.
Both Sebastian and Sara tried to jump out of the way, but they were too late. Covered with food, they stared at the waitress in shock, trying to comprehend what had spooked her. She was fixated on the window, her eyebrows lifted and her jaw gaping open. With a shaky hand, she pointed at the window. They followed her gaze and saw a reflection of a horrific, bloody, decaying zombie.
Sebastian and Sara leapt to their feet as more zombies appeared one after another behind the glass, each one seeming to materialize out of the wet air. All of them were translucent, ghostlike. There had to be hundreds of them. Then, completely synchronized, they all raised their hands and pointed at Sara.
“What do they want with me?” Sara asked.
“I don’t know. But let’s get out of here.”
He took her hand and blinked.
Tuesday, 11:49 pm (Purgatorium)
Surveying the scene, Jared had no idea where he was. It resembled Druid Park, but he couldn’t be sure. With everything so different, so blackened and destroyed, it was hard to tell. Deadened tree branches, bare and burnt, hung low, casting creepy shadows across the barren ground. Mr. Zombie had been leading the way, explaining how the Hierarchy of Souls had come to exist. Jared hung on every word.
“Just to be clear,” Jared said, “when a human dies, they come over as a Lesser Soul. But when a witch dies or some other supernatural creature, they come over as a Phantom or whatever they were equal to in the Living World.”
“You got it,” said Mr. Zombie with a slight smile. Jared wondered besides being a comedian, if Mr. Zombie had been a teacher in his past life.
“Badass!” Jared said, smiling.
“If you say so.”
“But, what about those?” Jared wondered aloud, pointing to what appeared to be living shadows. Some had jerky movements while others seemed to slide across the road like living oil spills.
“Stalkers,” Mr. Zombie said, hesitating. “You stay away from them.”
“Why?”
“They come to the graveyard to eat.”
“To eat? Eat what?”
Mr. Zombie turned to him and raised his eyebrows slightly, as though Jared ought to know.
Jared’s eyes grew wide. “Are you serious? Like bodies or Souls?”
“Both.”
“Sweet!”
Putting the lit cigarette in his pocket, Mr. Zombie stopped walking and turned to Jared with a hard look. “I’m serious, Jared. Stalkers are no joke. They are the lowest of the low. Souls who have given up on everything and have digressed into what you see. They are foul, nasty creatures that only have two goals: wreaking havoc and consuming any Souls they catch alone. If they catch you alone, they will kill you.”
Mr. Zombie poked Jared in the chest. “It’ll be a final death, just like that dumbass Poltergeist. And once your Soul is destroyed, that’s it. You’re done, understand?”
Shifting his gaze to his chest, Jared placed his hand over his heart. “I see.”
“Come on,” Mr. Zombie said, motioning for them to continue walking. “We’re almost there.”
They entered a large cave, which seemed to descend into the ground. The cave floor was smooth, and the entrance was so steep Jared had to lean back to avoid tumbling forward. Dripping water echoed in the background, giving Jared the sense they were traveling deep underground. Fire lit torches were mounted on the cave walls, but the light they projected was barely enough to penetrate the inky darkness.
“Who knows, maybe you could get a rank up,” Mr. Zombie said casually.
They passed two Lesser Souls dressed in rags. Both resembled scarecrows with twisted mouths and jagged little teeth. They seemed to keep guard.
Finally, after descending for what seemed like a mile, the ground leveled off into an open space. The lights were brighter here and Jared saw that they had entered what appeared to be a large ballroom.
The domed ceiling was filled with carved angelic figures, some reaching out or praying, others dancing or flying, and strange lettering from ancient alphabets and other mysterious-looking patterns and designs. Glittery paper rained down from the ceiling but seemed to evaporate before it reached anybody’s head, and long black sheets hung from the upper recesses of the ceiling with exotic female zombie dancers twirling on them. Maybe this was where acrobats came after they died.
There were other entrances at different points around the open room. Red and blue lights shone from within them, giving the impression that sinful happenings were going on in the tunnels. A bar ran along the left side of the room where a few rotting Lesser Souls mingled. On the other side was a small dance floor where one decrepit looking couple clung to each other, swaying to slow-beat music from the roaring twenties.
In the very back, Jared made out a throne of some sort. He squinted trying to make out the details of the one sitting on it, but the lighting was too dim. Jared presumed this was the Master.
“Let’s get you something to drink. Then I want to show you something,” Mr. Zombie said, motioning to the bar.
Jared shrugged and followed. He found himself smiling, enjoying the style of music.
“Liver juice,” Mr. Zombie told the overweight bartender, who wore a bloodied apron. “Fish.”
The bartender grunted, reached behind the bar and brought out a ceramic, dinner plate. He then proceeded to open a barrel and take out a big, dark red, mass of a meaty tissue. He slapped it on the plate.
Mr. Zombie tossed a coin on the bar, but before the bartender could pick it up, Mr. Zombie said, “Could you get a message to the Master?”
The bartender nodded once and leaned forward to listen.
“Ask him if he needs an ark? Because I Noah guy!”
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Really.”
“Just get him the message, okay? Thank you.”
Shaking his head, the bartender scooped up the coin with one fast motion, bit into it, and walked off chewing.
“What was that about?” Jared asked.
“Ah, nothing important. You want some?” Mr. Zombie asked, taking the liver from his plate and holding it out for Jared to take.
“I . . . think I’m good, thank you.”
Mr. Zombie shoveled the liver into his mouth, and attempted to speak through it. “Suit yourself.”
Jared turned around and propped his shoulders on the bar behind him. He leaned back comfortably and took in the sight. “This is like the ghost, zombie version of the Star Wars cantina.”
“You know, you’re taking this rather well. A lot better than most people actually.”
“I’m going to be out of here soon, so why not make the most of it, you know?”
Mr. Zombie raised an eyebrow. “Out of here soon?”
“Yeah. See, my best friend, Sebastian? He’s like the Grim Reaper or something? Tall guy in a thick black robe? Either way, it’s his fault I’m here. I’m just waiting for him to come get me. Should be anytime now.”
“I see.”
An attractive Soul shifted her eyes toward Jared. She resembled a formal undertaker with a wide-brimmed black hat, suit and skirt, dress shirt, and black and grey striped tie. She tipped her hat and offered him an enchanting smile.
“I wouldn’t do it, man,” Mr. Zombie said, his voice low.
“Huh?” asked Jared.
“She’s a Phantom, one rank under Shade. That caste of Souls are the spell casters of the bunch. Basically, she could rock you with only a thought.”
“Casters? Like magic spells and stuff?”
“Yup. Usually the most powerful of the bunch are chosen for Seal Witches. Now, you want to talk about real power—”
One of the Souls dressed in rags approached Mr. Zombie and interrupted him by speaking in his ear. Jared wondered which caste this Soul belonged to. It had a burlap stack on its head with a small topknot. Mr. Zombie seemed delighted as he smiled continuously and
nodded his head in rapid succession.
After a minute, the Soul in rags walked away and Mr. Zombie stepped to Jared. “We have our audience with the Master. He would like to see you now.”
Jared shrugged his shoulders. “Lead the way.”
“Actually, it’s just you. He only does one on ones. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Just make your way past that door,” Mr. Zombie said, pointing.
Jared strolled toward the door as Mr. Zombie stepped back into the shadows, but before he disappeared into the darkness Jared saw something in his friend he hadn’t seen before. Just before Mr. Zombie disappeared, Jared thought he caught a glimpse of familiar, glowing, violet-colored eyes.
Tuesday, 11:52 pm (Purgatorium)
Sebastian took in his surroundings. Somehow, he was back in Purgatorium, in what was once Baltimore’s downtown. A concrete graveyard of abandoned skyscrapers lined the deadened streets. The wind whistled and echoed throughout the ruins. Foul-smelling air mingled with the low-lying haze over the cracked and broken sidewalks. His black robes billowed out around him, moving with the dust. He was the Reaper once again. He scanned the area, but Sara was nowhere to be found.
“Sara?” he called out, calmly at first, but his heart pulsed loudly in his temples.
The layers of his robes flowed, wafting around him with life of their own. His hood drooped low, covering his eyes. Inside the hood, only darkness, yet he could see all. The robes seemed to have wrapped themselves around him, protecting him from something. But from what? Shivers shot up his spine like lightning bolts.
“Sara?” he called again, panic rising in his throat. He felt like he’d been punched in the chest. This didn’t make sense. They’d just been at the local diner.
“How did I end up here?” he said aloud. “And where is Sara?”
The Elder did not reply.
Cautiously, he walked forward, continuing to inspect his surroundings. Everything was in ruins. Street lamps and electric poles were bent and broken, gaping cracks dotted the streets, the skeletons of overturned cars shone like ghosts in the moonlight. With the structural damage these buildings had taken, it was amazing some of them were still standing. At the intersection, a stoplight blinked red over and over again.
