Haunted

by Tredick Foster

  She stood up, hugging me tightly. “I’m sorry it took so long.” I apologized. She explained, “No, I needed to get away from everyone. They were pissing me off with all their… feelings.” I chuckled a bit. She was being honest, too. I’ve never known Kara to be one to tolerate large groups, even without them having their own issues. I wouldn’t call it a selfish mentality so much as… well, ok. Selfish is a good word, but not one meant in a negative connotation.

  Looking at Greg’s headstone with my arm still around Kara, I’m sort of taken aback at how little of note there is to it. It’s just a mere slab of stone, rectangular in shape with his first and last name over the years of his birth and death. I mumble “Jesus” without even realizing it until it’s too late.

  I take a breath in to apologize. Before I can get a word out, Kara says “I know, right? They charge by the fucking letter.” I sigh, heavily before saying “I’m sorry, Kara.” She giggles a bit, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. I’m honestly glad he’s not getting buried here. Kyle told me you cremated him.”

  I nod my head and fall silent. Again, I can’t help but look at the headstone and think that I’d probably get less than that. Just a metal plaque in the ground you couldn’t see. Especially after the groundskeeper mowed over it. With that thought, I’m glad he got this much.

  I start to justify in my head on what the point of this place is. The plot was already paid for and we had to keep up appearances for his extended family. I guess we can see it more as a memorial than a grave.

  “What will you do with the ashes?” I ask her. She shrugs, “I don’t know. I might shove the urn into ground here. I might give them to you so he can bug you for a damn change.” The both of us laugh a little, even though she’s completely honest. “Why, don’t want to keep him around for that cold, ectoplasmic ghost sex?” She shivers, no doubt at the thought of a cold dick going inside her and I chuckle a bit.

  “No,” She explains, “He’s definitely being kept at your place now for that. He tried humping me enough when he was alive. I don’t need to be chased around by some haunted hard-on” I chuckle a little more, not taking her seriously. She might be honest now, but once she gets that urn, she definitely won’t want to let go. That’s what I think, at least.

  “Thank you.” She says in a softer tone. I look to her. Her look is softer than I’m used to from her, like she’s opened up to me. “Don’t worry about it.” I say, gently rubbing her back. She gives a soft smile, her gaze going towards the headstone and then back to me. “So, what’d you do with his ghost?” I explain, “Oh, he’s back at the office with Jimmy. God only knows what they’re all up to.” She smirks softly, giving only a quiet giggle.

  Chapter 30

  When I got back to the office, I was met with Wyatt and Kyle setting up a desk and computer in the living room. I’d only really been gone 45 minutes. Most of that time was spent taking Kara home. How much bullshit could happen in that amount of time?

  I shrugged, holding my hand out “What the fuck is this?” Wyatt was knelt down in front of the L shaped desk, connecting wires to the tower computer while Kyle was setting up the dual monitors. The long, open end faced outward next to the door. The shorter side of the desk that’s against the wall has overhead cabinets. “Ask your new receptionist.” Wyatt commented.

  I head back into my office, finding Jimmy slouched down in one of the guest chairs. At first, I think he’s still playing on his phone, but I look a little closer at him and see he’s actually asleep. He’s got his phone in his hand, resting on his stomach with his chin to his chest. His feet are out, his dirty Dallas Cowboys cap is pushed a little lower than usual, probably held up by the square frames of his glasses. How can he sleep like this?

  I roll my eyes and turn my attention to the clearly visible Greg sitting in my chair at the desk. His look reflects something more or less than how he looked in high school. His long, shoulder length, brunette hair is back. By the time he was in his mid twenties he’d shaved it all off in favor of a crew cut. He was still pretty heavy set, but he was also wearing his Megadeth t-shirt, ripped up jeans and that fucking torn up, gray canvas jacket his corpse was wearing.

  “Dude,” Greg said without the aid of speakers, “When’s the last time you did your taxes?” He was looking over my computer; typing away, swiping on the mouse pad and going back to typing again. “I… I don’t know. I guess it’s hot enough in here for you to manifest, huh?” I ask. He shrugs, “I guess. You’re the expert on that shit.” I shrug with a sigh, shaking my head. “So, what; you’re gonna spend your afterlife doing my taxes?”

  While Greg stills keeps on with my computer, he explains, “I don’t feel like heading back to… wherever it is that I was. So, I’m just gonna hang out here for a while.” I hang my coat on the back of the other guest chair before sitting down in it.

  “Yeah? What do you remember?” A question billions of people would like answered, but I’m met with “I don’t know.” The two of us go silent. The keys on my laptop clacking away in the silence of the room, waiting for him to expound on it.

  “That’s it?” I ask. He nods, simply saying “Yep.” I pause for a second, seeing if he’s joking. However, the only thing he does is look up with wide eyes and a devilish smile, “Oh, check this out!” That’s when he flickers and disappears from the chair.

  I stand up and tilt my laptop screen back to see bits of clear ectoplasm on the keys and mousepad. My lip curls up on the side, hoping it won’t drip down and get into the hardware. “Gonna have to get a keyboard condom for you.” I mumble

  A second later, I hear his voice whisper “Jimmy.” It’s gained a haunting tone as he repeats, “Jimmy.” elongating his name as he does so. I look over at the sleeping pseudo-burnout as he begins to stir. Slowly, Greg’s head fades back into existence on Jimmy’s left shoulder. “I’m inside you, Jimmy.” Greg whispers.

  Jimmy leaps to his feet suddenly, jumping away from the chair. “Goddamnit, Greg! I told you to fucking stop!” I laugh pretty hard as I sit back in the chair. I’m frustrated at this entire situation, but Jimmy’s reaction is hilarious enough for me to forget all that. He’s funny when he reacts to anything homoerotic, so that’s not gonna get old anytime soon.

  “So,” Greg said, appearing in front of my laptop again, “What’d you say you were charging the funeral home again?” I gain a shit eating smirk, “Five grand.” Greg scoffs, “Damn!” I nod, “I got your funeral refunded too.” He smirks, “Atta boy!”

  He keeps typing, falling silent again. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Typing up the bill for the funeral home. Also, you should really get on the rest of these jobs you’ve done.” I wave my hand at him, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t bitch at me. I get busy.” He chuckles, “Yeah, then you get drunk and lazy.” I sigh. He’s not wrong.

  I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands over my tie lying on my stomach. “So what’s happening here?” I ask, “You’re gonna be my receptionist?” Greg just exclaims “Yep!” Again, without any sort of follow up.

  I roll my eyes, “Dude, there’s slave labor laws against disembodied entities. I’ll get in trouble.” He simply shrugs, “Then tell them I haunt you!” I raise my eyebrows, shaking my head. “I’m an ex-Darkbreaker who’s being haunted by a ghost who does my receptionist work?”

  Greg doesn’t respond; he just keeps at it on my laptop. To be honest, I could use his expertise. Fuck, out of the whole group, he’s the only one who ever did his own taxes. For no reason at all, he got really savvy with business stuff some years ago and I have no clue why. I’m gonna have to think of something so I don’t get in trouble for this.

  Chapter 31

  The door to the apartment flies open with me backing in. “Ok, turn it sideways.” I grunt, as Kyle and I turn a large leather sofa with its back facing down. Both he and I are grunting as we try to maneuver it into the living room.

  The middle front foot of the sofa gets stuck on the door frame and I groan, angrily. “I’ve seen you
rip the heads off vampires. You can’t do this by yourself?” I ask in frustration. Kyle, equally annoyed as he turns the couch with me says, “Shut up and keep going! I can’t be on both ends at once!”

  Finally, we manage to get the sofa into the house, much to the amusement to Ghost Greg. He flickered in and out of sight while he sat at his desk; the brisk early morning air outside messing with his ectoplasmic charge. Kyle and I set the couch down, both of us out of breath while Kyle closes the door behind him. I sit on the arm of the chair, catching my breath as I think that I’m too fat for this shit.

  I look around the living room, having now been transformed into a halfway decent looking lobby. There’s a simple looking, armless couch with seafoam green upholstery facing the windows with two wooden, double decker end tables on either side. On the higher, back ends of the tables are matching lamps, both white in color with white shades.

  Across from the couch, under the window is a 40 inch tv monitor mounted to the wall under the windows. Honestly, we couldn’t think of a better place to put it. At least it looks ok there. You don’t really have to bend your neck down to see it.

  “Would now be a good time to tell you about the new calls?” Greg asks with a smartass tone, his voice coming in through his computer speakers. Kyle and I look over at him, clearly annoyed. I sigh heavily, biting my tongue before I bark “What calls?” Kyle groans as he shakes his head with a tired smirk across his face. Greg chuckles as he explains “Brendan called, says he wants to talk to you. Apparently the mayor agreed to kick some of their cases over this way.”

  “Ok,” I stand back up, “Sounds like an opportunity to jump on.” I motion to Kyle to get up. “You quote him a price?” I ask Greg as Kyle stands up. The two of us crouch down, taking a second while Greg explains, “I told him your consultations will run $100 a day, but field work will be $500 a day, plus expenses.” Kyle and I lift the sofa just as I grunt “Good!”

  Greg went on as Kyle and I slowly made our way through the kitchen. “That Lena chick called; the one from Bowman Realty.” Grunting and struggling, Kyle says “Yeah, the robot.” Greg chuckles, “She wants to know if you two can work out a deal clearing their rentals out. She said they’re willing to knock off a month’s rent for each clearing. Personally, I think it’s a bad idea.” I shake my head, “Tell her I’ll do it and bill her for expenses.”

  Greg rolls his eyes, the sound of his sigh comes over his computer speakers. I mule kick my office door open as wide as it’ll go and we start to slowly make our way in. Kyle and I flip the couch around and we start to slowly ease it through the doorway.

  Greg continues, “Wyatt called, he says he’s got a lead on a haunted arcade being renovated. Said something about haunted furry suits wrecking shit.” Moving as slow as I can, I say “Quote him something and tell the owner to call us. Make sure to tack on a reasonable referral percentage for Wyatt too.”

  We slide the couch in through the door, the leather dragging on the door frame. “C’mon, baby. Don’t catch on something.” I mumble as we move as slow as we can. Through sheer luck and perseverance, Kyle manages to cross the threshold of the office and we immediately set the couch down. “Fucking finally!” I exclaim at the top of my lungs. Kyle hunches over the arm of the couch on his side, groaning heavily in relief.

  “Oh, and someone’s waiting for you in your office!” Greg calls out from the lobby. I sigh, closing my eyes. “Should’ve led with that, Greg.”

  I opened my eyes back up, looking over at the guest chairs in front of my desk. She was sitting there, facing me with her feet propped up on the other chair. Jet black hair. Healthy glow to her skin. Green flannel shirt. Pearl Jam t-shirt. Torn up blue jeans. Old Doc Martens. “You.” I said in a subtly surprised voice. She just smiled, giving me a nod “Me.”

  I look over at Kyle and say, “Why don’t you rest up for a bit. Give me and…” I paused, looking over at her, “her a chance to talk.” Kyle sighs, shrugging with a tilt of his head, “Whatever, man. I’ll go get the cushions.”

  Kyle stands back up, tiredly leaving the office. I pull the sofa into the room more, leaving room for the door to be closed. She just stays silent, waiting and watching as I shove the back of the sofa against the wall. Hanging over it is my Darkbreakers work shirt; on a hanger, hanging on a hook nailed to the wall.

  “You’d think you’d be sore after they shit-canned you.” She says, looking up at it. I look up at it and back over to her, “Some of the best years of my life. I lived the dream.” I sit down at my desk as she comments “Now look at you. In business for yourself with your own employees.” I point at her, correcting her “Associates, not employees. They work on commission.” She smiles, “Ok, point taken.”

  I move my office telephone out of the way to see her better. I take another proud look at the phone; a modern phone, but modeled to look like an old, black rotary phone. I’d always had a thing for 50’s era hardboiled detective aesthetics. I take a moment to look over her with her carefree attitude and bravado. I sigh and shake my head. “Who are you?” I ask her, “Why are you here? Why have you been fucking with me my whole life?”

  She looks at me, offended “I haven’t been fucking with you. I’ve been watching you. Helping you, even.” I sigh, nodding as I look away. “Right. You made sure I knew to burn the Necronomicon. Draw that thing out of my mom.” She smirks, quipping “Pulled your head out of your ass in your new car.” I look at her with a scolding gaze. She giggles, quietly.

  She rolls her eyes, “My name is Azrael. You can call me Az, for short.” I tilt my head, looking to her quizzically. “The Archangel of Death, Azrael? Like, the name every edgelord superhero and villain in the 90’s wanted to be called?” I quip. She smiles and nods, “It’s not my fault everyone wanted to copy me.”

  I legitimately chuckle, shaking my head. “Oh my god, ok. So, on to question two then?” Az just simply asks, “What, I can’t watch you work?” I lean forward on my desk, shaking my head “No! Anyone in your position would play me for their own ends. So what’s your endgame?” Az rolls her eyes, sighing heavily, “Geez, the whole universe isn’t out to get you, Rick. Some of us really do want to help, ok?” I shake my head again, “Not from what I’ve seen.”

  She finally gets serious, taking her feet off the other chair and leaning across the desk, “You ever think that maybe I’m your boss?” I roll my eyes, chuckling “There it is. Now we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty.” Her smartass smirk turns to one of superiority as she nods, “That’s right. Every little job you’ve ever gotten is because of me. From Greg’s spirit sitting out there to Bolon Yokte K’uh.”

  I slap my desk, pointing to her with a stern look in my eyes. “Hey, I had to fight to keep the Bolon Yokte case! Corporate didn’t want me leading my first apocalypse. They started spouting policy and all that shit.” She gives a smart-assed smirk, “Almost like it took a miracle to pull it off, huh?” I lean back, waving my hand, “Oh, this deus ex machina bullshit.”

  Sitting back in her chair, Az folds her arms and she quips “And you wouldn’t have figured out how to arrange the crystal skulls if it wasn’t for me whispering in your ear.” My eyes narrow as she does the same to mock me.

  “What’s your point?” I ask, frustrated. Looking me dead in the eye, Az says “The point is, not everyone is your parents. I’m not gonna try and rip your throat out when you’re not looking and I’m sure as Hell not gonna treat you like a child for the rest of your life.” My expression softens and my head tilts to the side. “Nah,” I quip, “You’ll just drop me until you need something or a photo-op pops up.”

  Chapter 32

  I blink and I’m suddenly looking over the entirety of Potton. My heart rate jacks up to the max and I’m suddenly worried I’m about to go down from a heart attack. I lean forward, my hands in front of me. I’m suddenly aware of a steel bar in front of me, so I grip it tight. Looking down, I can see it’s painted sky blue. My brow narrowing as I mumble “I know this shade.”

/>   “We’re on the water tower.” Az suddenly says. I turn my head, seeing her calmly standing beside me. I’m suddenly aware of everything. The cold, winter air blowing. The giant tank of water behind us. The metal platform beneath our feet.

  I push down the sleeves of my navy blue work shirt, backing away from the edge as I ask “Why the fuck are we here; dramatic narration?” She giggles, shaking her head. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you,” She explains, “A smartass until the end.”

  “Look down there.” She says, “Really look at it.” I sigh, shaking my head as I amuse her. I’m buttoning up my shirt and tell her “Am I looking for something in particular, because all I see is the same shit, just from a different angle.” She looks at me, asking “Describe it to me.”

  I sigh again, aggravated as I explain “I see the same piece of shit town I saw when I was twelve. This hodgepodge of different eras in time masquerading as the eternal 1950’s small town with its classic cars, its run down late 1800’s era buildings they label as ‘rustic’ to justify letting them hang open like rotting wounds.”

  I start to point out certain areas of the town, as if I’m now in the deep end of a rant. “There’s Old Towne; you can tell by everything being so fucking old, decrepit and torn up. There’s the ABC’s over there; it still looks like a compressed Compton that doesn’t go any higher than three stories. Let’s not forget Haven Heights on the opposite end where all the rich and well off mother fuckers call home. Still looks like the most plastic representation of a suburb I’ve ever seen in my life.”