by D. M. Guay
The book kicked me in the belly button. I rolled to the side and grabbed it. It bucked and kicked. “We have to save Kevin!”
It stopped for a second, like it was thinking about it, then it opened. That's more like it!
Chomp. “Ow!”
Yep. The spine opened just enough to let me slip a couple knuckles in so it could bite me. “I don't have time for this. Page thirty three. Open up!”
It didn't. At least, not the way DeeDee's magically rippled to the correct page. I had to pry that cover open and pin it to the floor with my knees.
DeeDee and Doc chanted. “Exsurge...something something...Kevin veni something something. Corpus something something vivere.”
My page had the same words. Mostly? Hard to tell. There were an awful lot of them. No pictures. I checked the page number: three and the top curve of another three above my hairy knee. All right. “This is it.”
I cleared my throat, and... huh. Oof. Everything was in big loopy, old timey fancy people cursive. Aw, man. I won't lie. I'm gonna have some trouble reading that. They barely teach that shit in school anymore.
“Chant, New Man! Now!” Doc snapped.
Well, I'd just have to wing it. Because it was in cursive. And not in English. Guys like me don't exactly ace Latin. But I joined in. Slow, but steady “...tenebris domain. Insert name veni—” Oops. Back up. Try again. “Domain Kevin veni ad nos in domum suam.”
Huh. Looks like my part is different. Must be why Doc was so insistent. I chanted, but every word I said made the book more angry. It growled and jerked and bucked, and worse, the corners of the pages kept curling down, trying to cover the script so I couldn't see.
“Cut it out! I'm trying to do the right thing here.”
But it didn't stop. Its spine tightened and snapped, pages curling, and I had to put all my weight on it to keep it open. I chanted and chanted. But DeeDee and Doc suddenly stopped, and only my voice echoed around the store. “Receperint tui sumus exspiravi!”
I really put some flourish on it. Dude. I just spoke Latin! I'm awesome!
Suddenly, the book snapped shut and scrambled away, taking a mouthful of my leg hairs with it.
“What did you say?” Doc stared at me, his eyes round as silver dollars. “Were you on the correct page, New Man?”
“Yes!”
He looked at me for a moment, like he didn't believe me. “Come here, quickly. We must join hands. We do not have time to waste.”
I did. Even the cleaning crew stopped eating Starbursts long enough to join their clammy little hands with me and DeeDee. Doc chanted, and DeeDee rocked back and forth to the beat of his voice. The grim reaper? Well. He just stood by the hot food rollers, sobbing, “I can't do anything right! Hurrrrrrrrr. Hurrrrrrr. Hurrrrrrr.”
Yeah. I feel you, dude. I didn't know what to do, either, so I just tried to stay still and not touch anything. I didn't want to mess anything up. We needed Kevin, because DeeDee couldn't count on me to save the day on purpose.
We did this for a long time. Hoping. Praying. Doc chanting and sprinkling oils and rum and powders as candles flickered. I'm not sure for how long, because time seemed to stand still and sprint all at the same time. Eventually, Doc stopped. “We have done all we can. Kevin is in God's hands now.”
He covered Kevin's fat roach body with a rectangle of white fabric. We all stared at it for a long time. Hoping? Dealing? I wasn't sure. But the cloth was still. Kevin didn't move. He wasn't magically resurrected. It was over. He was gone.
DeeDee looked at me. Tears had dragged her eyeliner down her cheek in black streaks. “We should bury him. Is there room in the employee plot at Eternal Spector Memory Gardens?”
“Did you say 'employee plot'?”
“For employees killed in the line of duty. It's in the cemetery next to Monster Burger.” She did not sound alarmed. She said it more like, duh. “If Kevin's there, we could visit him. He'd be so close.”
“It is full, but he is small. We will make room for him,” Doc said. “He deserves the honor. I will get my shovel.”
My head spun. “There's a cemetery plot for Demon Mart employees killed in the line of duty? And it's FULL?”
Hello! Am I the only one who's alarmed?
Apparently, because Doc and DeeDee were up and moving. DeeDee gathered a handful of Milky Ways from the candy aisle and a couple of mini bottles of Wild Turkey from Kevin's stash behind the counter. She sat down next to him, laid them around the body, and whispered, “For your journey to the afterlife.”
Doc disappeared into the back and emerged a few moments later with a tiny coffin and a shovel.
I didn't move. Were we burying Kevin? For real? “And we have coffins in the storeroom?”
“Faust takes his duties seriously. He is always prepared,” Doc handed me the coffin. Small. Perfectly Kevin sized. Polished wood. “Place Bug Man inside.”
I stared at Kevin's body, lying under his shroud. My hands shook like jelly on a roller coaster. I turned to Faust, who was plastering the beer cooler doors with more of those damned posters. “Do something!”
“Unfortunately, when a soul is between body and judgment, I cannot intervene. It is against the rules. Kevin's soul is out of my reach.”
The cleaning crew cried as they emptied Doc's bottle of rum and tore open another bag of Starbursts, ready to eat their feelings. Wow. Kevin called that one. They really were stomachs on legs.
“You know I did. Cleaning crew, my butt. Those things are dumb as a bag of dicks. You just wait. I'm gonna give Steve an earful about this. I'm gonna rip him a new one.”
DeeDee froze.
A lump formed in my throat. I turned, very slowly, toward the voice.
An ethereal blue blob floated just above the floor right next to me. It was translucent and shimmery. It was shaped like a roach. A big, fat giant roach. The shape turned to me, then thumbed a leg back at the grim reaper, still sobbing by the hot dog station. “Why is this asshole still here? Get him outta here already. I ain't paying you to stand around scratching your butt. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Uh...” I pointed at his body, still motionless under the white fabric.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s…you?”
“What? You're full of it, kid.” He floated over to his body, and stuck his head right through the fabric, like he was taking a look. A long look. When he reemerged, he stared at his glowing blue body, his legs, every blue bit, for a good long time. Then he said, “You gotta be shittin' me. You didn't read the damn chant right, did you, kid?”
“I did. I swear!”
“Then why am I a fucking ghost?”
“Don't blame me! I chanted every word on that page!” Maybe if my employee manual hadn't run away or rolled down the pages, I could have chanted sooner. “The grim reaper is the one who smooshed you. It's not my fault you’re dead!”
Doc stood behind the counter flipping through books, grumbling, “I do not know why you did not properly resurrect, Bug Man. It is possible we have performed the ritual one too many times. New Man. Bring me your manual. I want to see your page thirty-three. Fetch it now.”
“That thing?” I pointed. My manual was deep in the chip end cap, ripping open Zapp's bags, growling. “No way!”
“You must tame it if you are to succeed here.”
Doc's order didn't override my paralysis. I didn't move. I couldn't. But everyone else did. Doc flipped through more books. DeeDee wiped tears and eyeliner off her cheeks.
Kevin? Well, he floated above the floor, testing his new ghost powers. He hopped up and down a few times to see how high he could fly. Which was barely. Then he jiggled his carapace. “I can't believe I'm still fat. Man. The afterlife really isn't fair. Oh shit. Here we go. HI-YA!” Suddenly, Kevin jumped into his best Chuck Norris stance. “Back off. I'm not dying again!”
The second reaper floated up to Kevin, whose tiny roach legs waved in menacing circles, gearing up to fight. He leaned all the way do
wn and looked Kevin up and down. “Woah. No way. Is that a cockroach with a soul? Ten thousand years, you think you've seen everything.” He scratched his skull. “Hold on. Did you reap this roach without a scroll? Holy shit. You did, didn't you? I never thought I'd see the day. Mr. Perfect reaping illegally. Wow. Head Office is gonna have a field day with that. They'll never take you back now.”
Reaper one offered no defense. In part because he had ten hot dogs, with buns, stuffed into his mouth. The buns were wet with his tears.
Reaper two said, “So, you planning to shack up with these breathers? Talk about slumming it. My, how the mighty have fallen. Sucks to be you.”
“Hey. Bonehead.” Kevin kicked the second reaper right in the shin. Or tried to. His blue leg was like smoke. It went right through. “Get that dead monster outta my automotive section and move along already. We got a gate to run. I don't need two of your ugly mugs hanging around here. You'll scare away the customers.”
Reaper two ignored him. He pointed at the other reaper. “I gotta go, but good luck with your investigation. You're gonna need it. Oh, and if you decide to go rogue and reap the babe illegally, call me. I'll come pick her up. I got a bone she can sit on for the ferry ride, heh heh.”
He pointed at DeeDee, then at his. Ahem. “Speaking of hot babes. I'll say hi to your ex next time I'm in the Nobodies Division. See ya around!”
He floated out the front door and vanished the second he hit the end of the handicapped parking spot. Of course, that still left one reaper. One reaper with a guilty look on his bone face, mouth full of hot dogs flopping up and down as he chewed them down to mush. When the last bun disappeared, somehow, into his invisible cheeks, he cleared his throat and floated over to Kevin.
“Ignore that guy. He's a jerk. But, uh. I am sorry, little dude. I had no idea. I've never met a roach with a soul before. My bad.” He wiped the crumbs off his mouth with his sleeve. “What do you say we start fresh? Let bygones be bygones.”
“Fresh, huh? You just killed me, that's all. But yeah. Sure. Sure, man. It's cool.”
Kevin didn't mean it, but the reaper didn't seem to catch on.
“Oh. Great! That'll make living together much easier. Where should I put my things?” He floated over to the door and picked up that weird magic duffle bag, which shimmered as if it was halfway between here and another dimension.
“Hold up. What do you think you're doing?” Kevin dug his fists into his carapace.
“Taking these to my room. Is it somewhere in the back?”
“Oh. Hell. No.” He pointed not one but three legs at the reaper. “I told you once, I'll tell you again. You gotta go. You aren't staying. Hello? You killed me!”
“But I said I was sorry.”
“I am afraid you must let him stay.” Doc looked up from one of the many creepy books behind the counter. “The rules are very clear on this matter.”
“What rules?” Kevin snipped.
“These rules.” Doc held up a slim leather binder, with the words Transmundane Gate Management and You, Complete Rules and Regulations embossed in gold on the cover. He read aloud. “Section seven. Subsection B. All gate locations must provide safe haven for displaced divine creatures who seek it, so long as said creature has not been convicted of crimes in a court of celestial law. Tell us, Reaper Man. Did you break celestial law?”
The reaper shook his head. “No. I'm suspended, pending investigation, so right now I'm just unemployed. And my girlfriend cast meeeeeee uh huuuh out. I don't have anywhere else to goooooooooo. Hurrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
“Then he is permitted to stay.” Doc snapped the binder shut. “Until his case is closed. Or he is formally convicted.”
“What? Hell no. Let me see that.” Kevin attempted to jump fly to the counter. But even in ghostly form, he was too portly to pull it off. His wings buzzed, but he didn't achieve even a hint of lift, apart from the inch he was already floating above the floor. That didn't stop him. He grunted and cursed until he finally managed to float crawl up through the counter. He walked directly into the binder Doc held. He stood there, half of his body poking up through the cover. “Wow. That feels weird. Woody. Now back off. Let me read.”
While Kevin and Doc had a heated debate, DeeDee grabbed me and locked eyes with me. “If the angel of death moves in here, we need a plan.”
We sure the fuck did! Duh! I couldn't wait to hear it.
Then she said, as I hung on her every wise word, “Do you have any ideas?”
“What? Me? I thought you had a plan!” I squeaked it. I'm not proud. Come on. She always had a plan. She was the one with the plan. “I don't have a plan!”
“Yeah, no. I got nothing. I'm sure we'll think of something. Until we do, stay frosty. I mean, he already killed Kevin, and we can't run the store if we're all ghosts. That would suck. So. You know. Don't die.”
“That's it? That's the plan?”
She shrugged. “It's a start. Let me know if you come up with anything else.”
“Me?” Fuck. We're screwed.
Kevin ran a leg across the paper for a while, reading out loud to himself. Or maybe he wasn't reading, unless that binder was actually a dictionary of creative curse words, because he was absolutely spewing expletives. His shoulders slumped, and he said, “Well, dipshits. Doc's right. Looks like we got a roommate.”
Chapter 4
Millions of tiny flakes dive-bombed past the streetlights, torpedoing directly onto my nose, piercing like little ice bullets. Because it's pitch black, freezing outside, and snowing. And no, I was not snuggled up in my jammies, inside, like normal people. Nope. I was outside, riding my busted up Huffy across town in a snowstorm. In January. In Ohio.
Because DeeDee didn't have a plan, but I sure did. It had two parts.
One: Don't die. Duh.
And yeah, okay. That was DeeDee's plan, but I added a part two: Hero up, stat.
It wouldn't be easy, and there were reasons I had avoided it—Namely the lack of readily available radioactive spiders, because that's about what it would take for a guy like me—but it was long overdue. So I pedaled, through the storm, toward Bubba's Yoked & Choked Kick Ass, Take Names Training Center, seeking a miracle.
I had no other choice. My new roomie was the grim reaper, and he'd already killed my boss. Plus, I'd nearly been eaten alive by zombies because I was too out of shape to climb a five-foot-tall shelf. You may have forgotten about that, but I haven't. It wasn't the high point in my life. Trust me.
Fwump fwump fwump.
“What's that?” I glanced back. It sounded like something flapping against the wind. But there was nothing. Just darkness. Deep. Black. Darkness. No one else was on this street. Just me.
“Meh. It's probably nothing. No one in their right mind would be out in this weather. In this part of town. Talk about a bad neighborhood. Even Gomorrah wasn't this sketchy.” Angel eight ball sat on my gym bag, which was in the bike basket attached to my handlebars. “Why didn't you drive? The weather is terrible.”
I nearly wrecked the bike. “What? Drive! You didn't tell me I could drive?”
“Why would I? You never bothered to get your tires fixed after God smote you.”
“I would have fixed them if you'd told me He'd changed his mind!” I sunk my face deeper into my coat, steeling myself against the cold. The night seemed extra dark. Extra cold. Extra creepy. “I've been biking to work in snow!”
“Hey man. This is your fault, not mine. Chance favors the prepared. Be an adult. Fix your flat tires. You've got money now. Look on the bright side. Shivering burns calories.” His triangle turned. “Can you pedal faster? My water's freezing. I can barely turn in here.”
“Gee. That would be a loss.” I wanted to chuck him out of the bike basket.
“It would. For you. STOP! Hit the brakes! My GGEPS says we're here.”
I skidded to a stop. “GGEPS?”
“God's Green Earth Positioning System. Don't even say it. I know, okay? You Know Who prefers a certain flourish.�
��
Angel directed me to park my bike in front of nothing. Seriously. The block was abandoned. Nothing but concrete foundations, worn down to stubble with age, where buildings used to be. We were maybe a mile down the road from where Monster Burger once stood. I could see the faint reflection of white snow accumulating on the arched gate of the Eternal Spector Memory Gardens. You know, that cemetery full of Demon Mart employees? The one that was full?
Gulp. Refer to Part One: Don't die. “Uh, wrong address. Let's go!” This block was bad news.
“Praise Jesus. It's cardio time. Finally!” Angel flashed an arrow into the darkness along the fence line at the very back of the block. A small neon sign suddenly buzzed to life. It said, “Now serving 327” in crackling red. The sign appeared to be floating, attached to nothing.
Great. That's not creepy. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“You aren't backing out now, buttercup. You need check marks before my audit. I need this job.”
Angel eight ball plopped out of my cup holder and wobbled through the litter and snow.
I grabbed my gym bag and followed him toward that fizzling neon light. The anemic yellow glow of the streetlight disappeared the second we stepped off the sidewalk, like the abandoned lot had been wrapped up in a big black blanket. Which is great. Just great, because walking outside, alone, at night on an empty block, on a street with “Cemetery” in its name is totally cool. No horror movie in the history of the world ever started like this. What could possibly go wrong?
The lot was deep. We walked and wobbled for what felt like forever, pressing into the ice cold wind, until suddenly the darkness opened up like a curtain. A vintage mobile home sat in the middle of a bright green lawn of plastic grass. The trailer had a fat teal stripe around the middle. A pair of pink plastic flamingos stood in a flowerbed filled with plastic daisies. The scene looked like a souvenir water globe from a tacky roadside attraction. Untouched by snow. Warm, even. Tropical.
