Haunted

by Tredick Foster

  I pocketed Jimmy’s phone and headed into the store, only to be met with a particular sight. It was only now that we’d realized how many corners the funeral home had cut. Greg was dressed in the clothes he was wearing when he died. An old, black band t-shirt with blue jeans, black boots and gray canvas jacket. The left side of these clothes were ripped and tattered, along with the left side of Greg’s face and body. Even his left eye was missing from it’s socket, along with his cheek and a couple teeth.

  The Revenant Greg must’ve stuffed his left jacket pocket to the brim with energy shot bottles. There was a trail of them leading from the isle to the counter. The corpse just stood there, groaning unintelligibly at the cashier.

  “I told you,” The cashier barked, “Get the fuck out of here! I’ve had it with your zombie walk bullshit!” Greg’s corpse responded with slapping the cashier in the face with his mangled and gnarled hand, then pointing to the hotdogs on display, groaning louder.

  “That’s it!” The cashier called out, picking up the phone. Kyle and I leapt forward, exclaiming “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kyle grabbed Greg’s corpse and began to pull him back. Greg was groaning at the top of his punctured lungs.

  I leaned onto the counter and explained “Listen, I’ll pay for whatever it took, ok?” I pulled out my wallet, flashing a couple twenties. The cashier barked at me “I’ve had it with you zombie walkers pulling this shit.” I handed him the forty bucks, shaking my head “Dude, trust me, this isn’t a prank.”

  The cashier scoffed at me as I left, helping Kyle drag Greg’s reanimated corpse out of the store. It was kicking and growling the whole way. When we get outside, Jimmy’s truck is gone. Kyle looks to me in a quizzical panic. Before he can say anything we’re suddenly made aware of an engine revving.

  Jimmy’s truck suddenly flies backwards from one end of the parking lot all the way to the other end, towards the edge of the parking lot. Before I even realize what he’s doing, he slams on the breaks. The truck skids across the asphalt. The back wheels just barely touch the concrete lip that leads to dirt and grass. The contents of the truck bed shift and slide off the bed, over the down tailgate and into the grass.

  Jimmy looks at us through the open window and calls out, “Bed’s clean!” I sigh heavily, shaking my head. I put my thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose, pushing up my glasses. Kyle just looks dumbfounded, but the revenant Greg starts to chuckle in a low and raspy tone. I look up at Greg, my glasses falling back into place as I scold him “Don’t you encourage him.”

  Kyle and I drag Greg’s struggling body over to the truck. Kyle gets in the truck bed first as he pulls the full weight of the six-foot-four, 350-plus pound body into the bed. I slam the tailgate shut and jump into the bed. I signal Jimmy by waving my two fingers forward. He manages to lay on the gas pretty heavy.

  I look to Kyle, still struggling with Greg’s body. I pull my UV revolver out from inside my coat, spinning the barrel and firing a shot into Greg’s head. The body immediately falls limp. Kyle is able to relax a bit.

  “Ok,” I start, “yank his head off.” Kyle’s eyes go wide, “What?” I look to him, quizzically while shrugging my shoulders, “What? I’ve seen you do it half a dozen times.” I exclaimed, “Yeah, to vampires and other dead things I don’t know. This is Greg!” I close my eyes, so he can’t see me roll them. I sigh, “Ok, I get it.”

  I put my gun back in it’s pocket, pull out my pocket knife, then zip up my parka. “At least snap his neck for me?” I ask. Kyle looks to Greg, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath in, closing his eyes as he takes Greg’s head in his hands and twists it quickly with a sharp, audible snap. Even I wince, shaking my head before I take a couple shimmies forward, kneeling at Greg’s neck.

  Knife in hand, it flashes in my head that I’m about to use a pocket knife to cut my best friend’s head off and I shake my head. “He’s not your friend anymore.” I mumbled to myself, “Greg died in the car accident and there’s no bringing him back.”

  I flick the blade out and hold his head in place with my left hand. I end up closing my eyes, turning my head away as I dig the serrated edge into his… its flesh. I take a deep breath in and tell myself “Quit being a bitch and just do it!”

  Chapter 27

  Jimmy made sure to park around the back of the funeral home, which we didn’t have to tell him to do. For most people, that’s a given. However, Jimmy is one of those classic airheads from 90’s movies; he doesn’t smoke weed, but something sure is causing him to achieve Burnout Status. We just don’t know what that is yet.

  I think about this as Kyle throws Greg’s body over his shoulders, fireman carry style while jumping out of the truck. I take Greg’s head under my arm and toss Jimmy’s phone into the open passenger side window. I poke my head in and tell him, “Good job, thanks.” I patted the door before walking away, even though he doesn’t respond. I just started walking away, trying to catch up with Kyle.

  I look back at Jimmy as Kyle and I head towards the back door. Jimmy’s head is pointed down, leaning back in his seat with his phone in his hands, resting on his stomach. I shake my head and mutter to myself, “It’s probably his phone burning him out.”

  Kyle looks back at me by turning 90 degrees with the body of a man literally twice his size on his shoulders. “What?” He asks, having heard me. I shake my head, waving my hand down “I was thinking out loud.” I explain, trying to dismiss it. Kyle slows down, letting me get ahead so I can open the back door for him.

  “Thinking about what?” he asks as he faces forward and heads inside with me in tow. “You ever notice how Jimmy is like...” I hesitate before continuing, “You know, a burnout?” I ask as we make our way down the hallway, quickly finding the crematorium. “Yeah, so?” Kyle says, superfluously. I maneuver around him, ducking under the headless body on his shoulder, opening the door to let him in.

  “You know he doesn’t partake, right?” I explain. Kyle stands in front of the table that slides into the oven. I run over and grab one of the cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of the largely empty room, placing it on the table with Greg’s head at one end. Kyle lifts Greg’s body off his shoulders and then drops it into the box. I wince at the thud, hoping it didn’t attract any attention. However, Kyle just plainly asks “Really?”

  I nod, explaining “Yeah, he’s smoked once or twice, but all he smokes now are cigarettes.” Kyle’s brow narrows as I look over the oven. I see a giant red button, which is pretty self explanatory, so I head towards it. Kyle remarks “Wow, I thought he was just a pothead. I wonder what does it, then?”

  I slap the red button and the table moves forward into the oven. Kyle asks “Do you?” I look over and Kyle puts his pinched forefinger and thumb to his lips. I smirk and shake my head. “Nah.” I say at first, but then follow up with “I mean, I don’t turn it down if I’m offered. I just don’t have my own stash.” Kyle chuckles a little, shaking his head. I shrug, “What?” Kyle then explains “You probably should start. Might help you out. Like, by a lot.”

  I think about it for a second and shrug, “I don’t know, maybe.” I close the door to the oven and the flames burst upward pretty quickly. Kyle and I watch through the window, taking a quiet moment to reflect. I lower my head and quietly say a prayer to myself. I try to think back on the good times I had with Greg, but the conversation about weed just sticks in my head. Not really respectful, but I can’t help it.

  Once done, we lift our heads back up and head towards the door. “You should really think about it.” Kyle starts on again. I open the door, heading out into the hallway while he follows. Kyle explains, “Might help with your alcoholism.” I smirk with a chuckle, “Yeah, you know what else will help with my alcoholism?” He looks over, quizzically “What’s that?” I look to him, side eyed and quip “My business partner picking up his slack.”

  Chapter 28

  I looked at the time on my phone, showing I’d been sitting on Lilith’s bumper for over ten minutes. Because I wa
s still physically connected to her, she echoed through my head “Does this happen often?” I nod, mumbling to myself, “It’s like dealing with a perpetual fucking teenager.”

  I could feel her getting frustrated, only to echo “All he’s doing is looking at something on his… that’s a phone, right?” I nod, “Yeah, he’s probably playing a game.” I hear her scoff, “Sounds pretty boring to me. Must be for the simple minded.” I snicker at her quip.

  I get up off the bumper, having given Jimmy more than enough time. I circle around the car and open the door, grabbing him by the arm and lifting him up and out of the car. “Hey, hey, hey, HEY!” He exclaims, aggravated. “C’mon,” I say in a condescending tone, “You can do it! Put one foot in front of the other!” Getting out of the car, Jimmy shuts the door behind him, grunting “Fuck off.” I keep my tone, “There’s a good boy. Now, let’s go get you a happy meal.”

  Back in the day, the go-to closing crew at McSling’s consisted of myself, Kyle and Greg. By 10:30 on Monday nights, I would’ve had the lobby closed and half the lobby deck-scrubbed by that point. Greg would be covering Drive Thru, cleaning and wiping down the equipment up front. Meanwhile, Kyle would be the only cook in the back, shutting down and cleaning one half of the kitchen. He used to move around back there like a madman, fixing food while wrapping up and putting away what we weren’t using at the time.

  By closing at 11, half the cleaning we would’ve needed to do was already done. Greg would’ve been able to leave at close, leaving the dishes to me and the rest of the kitchen to Kyle and the manager on at the time. Usually, it was either Rana, Karen or Mondy on for those nights. They were awesome people; considerate, funny, nice. Leaders and not rulers, you know?

  However, it was the upper management we hated. While the general manager never did night shifts, we knew she was pretty coked out of her mind. She was always on edge and did most things without thinking, like carelessly mixing cleaning chemicals. She once made mustard gas with cleaning stuff. From there, we had the real nightmare manager… Chaz.

  Walking back into that lobby, seeing nothing really had changed was a little surreal for me. The lunch rush was underway in the Drive Thru. The lobby was largely empty, save for an elderly couple sitting on the other side of the restaurant. It was pretty calm.

  Behind the front counter, I could see one guy on the first side of the prep table, slapping food together as fast as he can. The guy in the second window is clearly the only one handling it; taking orders, making drinks, taking money and handing food out. Should be against the rules.

  “Come on!” Chaz scolds, “Drive thru time is at three minutes!” I’m standing in front of the counter, looking on as Chaz is still slave driving poor kids. Of course, he’s not doing anything to help. Bagging orders is the easiest job. It’s all up to the one guy in Drive Thru to take orders, fill drinks, take the money and hand out orders. I feel sorry for the poor girl doing it all.

  Jimmy is standing next to me, still dicking on his phone while I look at him. To be honest, I brought him along as Ghost Greg bate. In life, Greg liked to hump the lot of us, but loved to do it to Jimmy the most. Jimmy’s a touch homophobic, so anything homoerotic done towards him would freak him out, considerably. He knew it was all in good fun, though.

  I leaned down a little, getting a better look into the kitchen through all the crap blocking the grill off. While I can see something moving around there; namely pans, burger patties, nuggets and other things, I can’t see anyone physically back there.

  I look to Jimmy, still messing around on his phone. I sigh heavily, shaking my head. I tell him, “Stay here.” He just hums in acknowledgement. Heading into the kitchen, Chaz doesn’t even acknowledge me when I pass him. In fact, no one does as I circle around the prep table and into the grill section.

  From inside my coat, I pull out a tiny radio with earbud headphones wrapped around it. With it, I pull out a pair of clip-on sunglasses. On the polarized lenses is a symbol, different than the one embroidered on my cap. Unlike the Third Pentacle of Saturn, which protects against evil spirits, the Fourth Pentacle of the Sun helps you see spirits. Like I said, magic is for the poor man who can’t afford fancy equipment.

  I hate that I’ve gotten used to the broke-ass ways so quickly. It was only five months ago that I’d be doing this with an Ethereal Viewer. A small square device with a headphone jack to pick up on and extrapolate electronic voice phenomenon. Full spectrum camera. On screen electromagnetic field gauge. Thermal readouts. If there was something there, you sure as hell saw and heard it on that thing.

  I clip the shades on and immediately, I can see the shadow of a person around the lines on the glasses. Not a perfect image, but you work with you got. I shove in one of the earbuds, but leave the other ear open, turning the radio on and tuning it to pure static.

  “Hey, Greg.” I say, simply. From the earbud, I hear his voice in an echoey whispered tone, “The fuck you doing back here, man?” I chuckle a little bit, “I’m here for you, man.” If he wasn’t so divided in his attention, he’d probably be able to visually manifest. It’s hot enough behind here with the grill going like it is, he’s got the energy to pull from.

  The blur looks up and I get the feeling he’s looking at me, confused. “Dude,” I sigh, “You know you’re dead, right?” Greg is quiet again, slowly standing up straight and looking around. I slowly shake my head, sliding my hands in my jeans pockets.

  I bite my bottom lip before asking, “How do you think you got here, man?” Greg is silent for only a few seconds longer before he whispers, “Man, it’s like a dream.” I nod, smirking “That’s how it works when you’re a ghost. Your conscience wants to be somewhere?” I snap my fingers.

  “But wait,” Greg says, “I literally want to be anywhere else right now. Why am I stuck here?” He asks, which I just shrug. “Am I in Hell?” He asks. I chuckle, shaking my head “No, but I’d imagine Hell not being much worse.” At which point, we hear Chaz yell “What the fuck?” I roll my eyes and sigh, “Here he comes.”

  Chaz is one of those frat-bro douchebag looking guys. When he’s not in his fancy manager’s short-sleeve button down and grease resistant pants he’s got a popped collared shirt on with skinny jeans made to look like he does construction work. Regardless, his hair always has some sort of product in it. So, imagine my annoyance when he walked through the kitchen, around the prep table and in my face, trying to flex. “The fuck are you doing in my kitchen, Gibson?” He growled.

  I kept my cool, not because he was a couple inches shorter than me and the top of his head came just under the bill of my hat – I’ve had to deal with this kind of thing before. “If you haven’t noticed, you’ve got a ghost in your kitchen.” Chaz barks, “I don’t care if there’s a portal to the depths of Hell in he-” I hold up my hand, gently pushing him away slightly. “Let me stop you right there.” I start.

  “First thing you clearly don’t know is a haunted kitchen is a healthcode violation that would instantly shut this place down. Heard of ectoplasm? Trust me, I know who to call to make that happen.” I explain. Chaz takes a breath in, like he’s about to bitch again. I continue “Second! Having a spirit of someone legally declared deceased is a violation of the Dark Magic Act of 1878.” I pause to look him square in the eye, smirking. “Meaning, I can have you arrested for violation of federal law.”

  I turn around, pulling Wyatt’s jerry-rigged ether-vac out of one of my parka pockets and set it on the prep table. A mason jar with a Faraday cage inside, three strips of metal inside standing vertically with an old computer cooling fan on top and a battery pack taped to the side. I flick a switch on the battery pack and the fan begins to whir. From behind the clip-on shades, I can see the human-like blur that was Greg begin to lose shape and get sucked into the jar.

  Chaz looks at me, silent and seething as I take the now-full jar with a smirk on my face. I don’t say a word, but he just growls “Get. Out. Of my kitchen.” I hold my hand up, putting my fingers to the side of m
y forehead in a salute. “Aye-aye!” I say in a smartass tone. Chaz doesn’t say anything as he walks away and to the office, no doubt to call in someone to replace Greg. I just mumble “Admiral Butthead.” as I flick my fingers away from my forehead.

  Chapter 29

  I rolled Lilith through the cemetery at 5 miles an hour, trying to find a hint of where Greg’s grave was. I didn’t even know she could go that slow. I’m sure it was killing her too. Of course, once I made it to the very back I was able to spot one of those blue pop-up canopies in the distance.

  I just shut the car off in the middle of the little, one-lane road they have winding through the cemetery. It’s not like I can pull off into the grass or something. God knows I don’t need a pissed off ghost coming after me because I parked on their grave.

  The area here in the back of the cemetery is nice, I guess. It’s a good view of the mountain. There’s an open, grassy field on one end. Pretty sure it’s a cow field. Of course, on the other side of the cemetery is a two lane road and the high school is on the other side of that. The one lane road I parked on is parallel to the two lane.

  I can’t help but think how much of a nightmare it would be for me to die in this town. My mother is my only next of kin, for now. So, she’d end up burying me here… Next to the high school I hated so much. I would die in a town I never wanted to be in and one that never wanted me.

  She would tell people that this is what I would’ve wanted. To be buried in the soil of this town. To have to be interred in a place that’s always hated me. For the next generations of high schoolers to walk over my grave, back and forth. To never see my home ever again. Hell would be like Heaven compared to that.

  From a distance, I couldn’t tell if anyone had been at Greg’s grave. However, when I came up on it I only found Kara sitting on the only folded out chair under the blue canopy. She’d been here this whole time, no doubt to try and get away from everyone. “Hey” I muttered to her. She looked up pretty quickly. It was rather quiet around and I’m pretty light on my feet. I think I surprised her. Her eyes were wide, so I could see how red they were.