Becoming Death

by Melissa Brown

  “I don’t know about you, but I needed today. There’s something about data entry I find relaxing,” I admitted.

  “Just don’t get too relaxed. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve fallen asleep typing on this computer. We aren’t meant to stare at screens all day. Give me a sunny outdoor funeral any day.”

  The silence returned so I addressed the elephant in the room. “Are you still holding up alright? You seemed to have worked with Cindy a lot, so I guess she was a friend?”

  “No, just the luck of the draw. We got along alright and I do miss her, but I wouldn’t have counted her as a friend. She was always funny to watch. I think she did some of the things in her act just to see if she could get a rise out of one of us,” he said, still typing into the form.

  I rubbed my cheek. “I think we would have got along eventually, if she’d had more time to get to know me. Did I tell you she was at my former boss’s funeral? That’s when I first saw her.”

  He chuckled. “It’s a small world. Even through you didn’t know her long, you should come to the funeral Saturday. Derek thinks we need to stick together, help each other through this, and you should be included in that.”

  “I was planning to come anyway. I didn’t want to be disrespectful.” I had killed the woman after all.

  “Good.” Harrison continued to type until his screen went black. “Hey, where’d it go?” He pushed at the power button on the monitor but it didn’t turn on.

  “Everything okay?” I looked over at him.

  “My monitor just shut down. Darn it, I was half way through something. I better not have to start over.”

  I was taken aback to hear Harrison swear—he never had in my presence before. The stress of losing Cindy and the extra work must have been getting to him.

  I saved my work and walked over to him. He smacked the side of the monitor like a caveman. “Are you sure you didn’t click something?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.” He picked up his can of soda and pulled the tab. It sprayed across his shirt and up his arm. He shook his hand. “Seriously, this is not my week.”

  “Nope, doesn’t seem that way. Have you tried turning it off and on again?” I asked him.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Thanks, Bill Gates.”

  “Sorry, I can't help then,” I said, going back to my own computer chair.

  “Maybe if I unplugged it and plug it back in, it will reset. That always seems to work for my computer at home.”

  “Worth a try,” I said, playfully twirling my chair towards him momentarily.

  Most people would have dried their hands on their pants or a towel before touching the monitor plug, but Harrison had been distracted. I watched as he sat his can of soda on the edge of the desk and got down on his knees. He crawled forwards, ducking his head under the desk.

  “Is this it?” His words were followed by the sudden cessation of the printer powering down.

  “Wrong one,” I chimed in.

  “We really need to get labels for those things, they all look the same. What about this one?”

  The phone next to me started to beep. “Nope.”

  He groaned.

  “Be careful—don’t pull out my computer's plug. I don’t want to lose my stuff too.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  Time slowed as I swiveled my chair just in time to see him grab the plug and pull it out. It was stuck, and he snapped back when he forced it out. He bumped his head against the bottom of the desk, knocking his can of soda onto himself and the multi-plug.

  “Harrison!” I shouted, reaching for him—but it was too late.

  The edge of the plug in his hand made contact with the liquid in the socket. The spark of the electricity shot through his body. I jumped up from my seat as Harrison spasmed violently on the floor until his hair stood up on end. His glasses were thrown from his face. I circled around him, careful not to get too close. The skin of his arm was burnt and his body still shook.

  I pulled out my cell phone and dialed for an ambulance. I knew it was pointless and he was already gone, but it felt like the right thing to do. I didn’t want to play this game anymore. I didn’t want to see anyone else I knew die. After speaking to the operator, I wrapped my arm around my torso and waited with the body of my former friend. He deserved to have someone that cared about him with him.

  It was a cold rainy Saturday when we buried both Cindy and Harrison. After hearing about Harrison’s death, Derek managed to pull some strings and make his funeral arrangements in tandem with Cindy’s funeral. Since they didn’t have a lot of friends outside of work, it made sense to put the other mourners through only one event.

  I sat in the front row with Derek and a few of the other mourners. The turnout was large, with local directors of funeral services turning up to honor two of their own.

  Real tears formed in the corner of my eyes and part of me wished I had taken Aaron’s suggestion that someone should come with me. I didn’t want to trouble him, but I wondered if I should have invited Clarissa or my mom instead. I tried to force myself to listen to the service when I saw a figure in black walking towards the seats. She faded into and out of my vision as she walked closer, and I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me. I rubbed my eyes as she came into view. A floppy black hat hid her face but I recognized her designer handbag instantly.

  I tapped Derek’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  I wandered to the back of the seats where she stood. “Don’t worry, they can’t see me.”

  “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show your face here after what you did. You didn’t have to electrocute him. He was a nice person. He deserved better,” I said.

  “Blah, blah, don’t they all. In case you haven’t noticed by now, death isn’t all sunshine and jellybeans,” she said, resting her hand on the chair back.

  “He was my friend. You need to leave, right now.”

  “Are you going to make me? You already look crazy enough standing back here talking to yourself, adding self-harm probably won’t help,” she told me.

  Shaken, I checked no one was watching and lowered my voice. “Just leave. Harrison wouldn’t want someone so cruel at his funeral.”

  She raised her hands at me. “Fine, fine, I’ll go, Miss High-and-Mighty. Just a reminder: you killed the other one, so don’t act so innocent.”

  I stomped back to my seat and folded my arms.

  “You okay?” asked Derek.

  My eyes locked on Cindy’s coffin. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  Chapter 18

  After Cindy and Harrison’s deaths, things got easier both as a mourner and a reaper. I was getting used to my double life. I woke up everyday next to Aaron, ate a lovingly prepared breakfast on the way to the Happy Mourners' morning assignment meeting, attended a couple funerals, tagged one of my victims on my lunch break or after work, and made my way home for evening cuddles and TV marathons.

  I felt guilty as I stood over the casket of Albert Filmore, a former CEO of a box factory. We had met two days earlier when I had rear-ended his Porsche. He could barely climb out of the car when he hobbled with his cane to assess the damage. I had exchanged one of Happy Mourners’ business cards for his soul. He called the office to make a booking the next day and promptly ran into a telephone pole an hour later. That’s how I found myself crying over Albert’s coffin pretending to be one of his many ex-lovers.

  Five minutes into my act, his ex-wife had threatened to break me in half if I tried to get anything in his will, so I toned it down and went for a silent sad lover act rather than cause any more drama.

  My phone buzzed in my clutch as I settled back into my seat. I slid it out, the words New Client blinking on the screen. I shivered, wishing it had been a text from anyone else.

  I turned around to face Derek. “Is it alright if I skip the wake? Albert’s ex has already threatened me. I don’t want to press my luck.”

  Derek examined the ex-wife’s scowl and sighed. �
�Yeah, go ahead, but let me walk you to your car.”

  “Plans for tonight, Clark?” Derek asked, opening the funeral home’s door.

  “Not too much, just vegging in front of the TV with my boyfriend. Maybe some Mario Kart,” I said.

  “Doesn’t he ever take you anywhere nice? Guys are supposed to wine and dine their girlfriends.”

  “Don’t even start.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You just don’t how to have fun.”

  “You should let me take you out sometime. I was planning to try out that new Japanese restaurant downtown. I bet you love sushi.” Derek nudged me.

  “Nah, I’m more of a pizza and vegging-out-on-the-sofa kind of girl.”

  “I bet you even wear a onesie,” Derek said.

  A slight chuckle escaped my lips. “Nope.”

  “Good. Are you sure I can’t temp you out for the evening? Purely platonic, of course. I just wanted some company,” Derek asked, his face falling slightly.

  “I’ll ask Aaron. Maybe we can all go out together sometime,” I suggested, unlocking my car door.

  “You drive a hard bargain, Clark, but I’ll take what I can get,” he said, holding the door as I climbed inside.

  “See you tomorrow,” I said, shutting the door before giving Derek a slight wave.

  Once he walked away I reached for my phone and sighed at the words New Client. Bile rose in my throat as I clicked on the link to open up the information page. Another day, another dead body. I started to read through the information for Betsy Mills when the app chimed again: New Client. Another one? I clicked on the information, bringing up a separate page of another woman, someone named Melanie Jo Dobromylsky. I shook the phone, expecting answers. Two jobs in one day. What had I done wrong this time?

  I switched back to Betsy’s information in the Dead Head app to track her location. My shoulders slumped forwards as I put the car into drive and headed off to visit my first client.

  The place the app brought me to looked like the perfect place for a murder. The concrete building was being suffocated by a mixture of moss and vines growing around it, although the light coming from the front door suggested it was still open for business. A sign hanging dangerously by one rusty hook read The Fountain of Youth Gym. I glanced again at the woman with bright purple hair and horn-rimmed glasses on my screen, wondering why she would ever come to this place.

  I pulled out my gym bag from the back seat and headed for the door. Outfit changes were becoming part of my new secret persona, even if couldn’t change in super speed like Skye Hawke. The front door was sticky when I opened it; I tried to shake a pink liquid from my hand.

  A woman older than dirt itself sat behind a counter knitting what looked like a scarf. She adjusted her glasses when she saw me and put down her needles.

  “Hi, can I get a one day membership please?” I said, removing a lonely $20 note from my wallet.

  “Aren’t you a bit young, dear? Got some proof of your age?”

  I stood up proudly and pulled my ID out of my wallet. “I’m an adult.”

  She cleared her throat and waved her hand at me. “This facility is reserved for seniors only. No one under fifty-five is allowed inside.”

  I scrunched up my nose. “Why? I just want to swim.”

  “So do us oldies. We don’t want to have to look at firm young things; our bodies aren’t what they used to be. We promote positive body images for the elderly. It’s hard to do that around you youngins.”

  “Can I at least speak to my friend, Betsy Mills? She left something when we had a coffee earlier, I just want to give it back.”

  She tapped her nails on the counter. “I see no harm in that.” She picked up a phone and hit a button before her voice echoed over a loudspeaker. “Betsy Mills, please report to reception. That is Betsy Mills to the front desk, please. You have a visitor.”

  “Oh, I can go find her myself,” I assured her.

  “Have a seat, she’ll be out in a minute.”

  I forced a smile and dug into my gym bag for something to give Betsy. My aunt’s warning about not drawing attention to myself echoed in my brain.

  A woman wearing a swim cap with plastic flowers and a pink robe approached the desk. “That old bag, Helena, said you called me.”

  The receptionist pointed a bony finger at me. “You have a visitor.”

  I waved and stood up, carrying over a plastic water bottle.

  “What? Speak up, dear, I don’t have my hearing aid in!” Betsy shouted. “Who are you?”

  “You forgot this.” I pushed the bottle into Betsy’s hand and touched her winkled palm before she could answer.

  Her memories flowed into me slower than normal, lingering on each thought for a few seconds. Her as a child on a rope swing, her visiting the ocean for the first time in her twenties, her competing in a surfing contest and her teaching a baby to swim.

  “What’s this for?” Betsy asked.

  I backed away quickly, running for the door. “Enjoy.”

  “What? Did I win something?” Betsy asked the receptionist.

  I’d made it to my car before either of them made it to the door. One down, one to go.

  My final appointment of the day was at a local veterinary clinic called The Paws’ Clinic. The building was a tiny lavender cottage in the middle of suburbia. It had a white picket fence and a better garden than my mother’s. The atmosphere raised my mood, until I remembered why I was here.

  The office was crowded and the receptionist looked frazzled as she tried to deal with a disorderly group of pet owners. I scanned the people in the waiting room, looking for Melanie’s blue hair and full lips. Nothing. I checked the app again, seeing the blinking coffin icon hovering over the clinic. She was definitely here. I double-checked the receptionist was still dealing with the crowd and headed through a door marked private before making my way cautiously down a hallway filled with exam rooms. The last door was closed and marked staff only. I took a deep breath as I turned the knob.

  A woman with blue hair looked up from the microscope on her desk filled with miniature plastic horses and family photos. “Can I help you?” Her accent was foreign, probably British.

  I winced, searching for an excuse. “Sorry, there was no one at the desk and I need to get some of that special food for my cat. Sassy’s on a calorie controlled diet.”

  She left her desk and wandered past a shiny tray of sharp tools.

  My eyes widened.

  She motioned back towards the hallway. “Sorry, I’m busy in here. If you wait at the main desk, someone there will be able to help you. Just give them a few minutes.”

  I ignored her. The body of a black and white cat was in the corner. I walked towards it. “Is it dead?”

  She looked downwards. “Yeah, she was one of our regulars.”

  “What happened to her?” I asked, moving closer to Melanie so I could mark her.

  She ran her hand along the matted fur of the animal. “Poor Ping. She liked to chase cars, if you can believe it.”

  “That sucks,” I said. There was a dent in the cat’s skull, bone peeking out. I felt sick to my stomach.

  Melanie stepped towards the door and held it open for me. “I need to get back to work. I’m sure the main desk can help you.”

  I smiled before pretending to trip into her. She grabbed my wrist, helping me steady myself. “Careful now, no more accidents today.”

  Her memory flash was quick. Dissecting a frog in science class, watching TV with her cat, Mini, in her lap, and attending her first day of veterinary school.

  “Thanks, I’ll try to be more careful in the future,” I said, unable to take another breath before she closed the door behind me.

  I only got a few more steps before I heard a loud shriek and something clatter on the other side of the door. I flew back through the door to find Melanie lying on the floor. Surgical tools were embedded in her legs, chest and neck. Blood flowed from her wounds, creating a halo of red around her dark blue hair. Between
the tools, the formerly dead Ping stood on top of her with a smug look of satisfaction in her eye. The cat hissed at me, patting its claws into its victim. A chill ran down my spine as I backed away from the scene and passed the crowd in the waiting room. I had to get out of here, before someone saw me.

  Chapter 19

  My mother waited on us as we sat around the table for the weekly family brunch. She had wheeled out her embarrassing green and orange seventies-style serving cart that she always used for special occasions. Today it held wine glasses filled with orange juice and a variety of finger sandwiches. All lovingly prepared by hand, of course.

  “What are we celebrating?” asked Aunt Jessica as she took a sip from the glass my mother had handed to her. She frowned. “Ann Marie, don’t you have something to make this stronger?”

  My mother sighed and ignored her sister. “A little birdie told me someone has some exciting news they want to share with us,” she said, continuing to push her cart around the room.

  “Well, let’s hear it then,” my grandmother said.

  I wondered how she had found out about my new job. The check to pay back her loan was burning a hole in my pocket. “I…” I started.

  “I got a new job at a different firm,” Clarissa interrupted me.

  I coughed to hide my embarrassment. “Wow, that was quick.”

  She fiddled with the lip of her wine glass. “It turns out the company was headhunting me for a promotion one level higher than my last firm. They had been looking into my background for a while and luckily decided now was the perfect time to finally approach me.”

  “Wonderful,” my grandmother said. She took a swig of her orange juice.

  My mother nudged her. “That’s not the only news.”

  I shifted uncomfortably as I watched my sister bask in her achievement.

  Clarissa bit her bottom lip. “Oh, well, this job comes at a very fortunate time as I’m also pregnant.”

  Jessica touched her face. “Look at you. Haven’t you been busy? Next you’ll be saying you’re getting married.”