by Alexie Aaron
“No,” Mia and Ted chorused.
Mia, taking in the look of disbelief, said quickly, “We were asked to look in on him.”
“Well, evidently so was security. The state police brought him in. His alcohol levels were off the charts. He’s going to be charged with a criminal DUI as soon as the state police finish talking to his lawyer down on the second floor.”
“What’s going on in here, Tammy?” Margaret Mary asked from the doorway.
“We have an escaped patient. He is AWC, absent without catheter, he pulled it out himself.”
Mia caught Ted cringe again in her peripheral vision.
“Where did he get his clothing?” Margaret asked.
“Did his lawyer visit him before he went to deal with the officers?” Mia asked.
“Well, yes,” Tammy answered. “He asked for the clothes that Mr. Maynard was wearing when he was brought in. All I could find was the topcoat and pants to the suit he was wearing,” she explained. “I handed them to the lawyer. I think he said something about getting them repaired…”
“That’s where the clothes came from,” Mia inferred.
“Is the lawyer still in the building?” Ted asked.
Tammy pulled out her phone and walked out of the room.
Margaret Mary began to clean up the mess.
“Perhaps you might want to wait until the officers see that,” Mia suggested.
“I don’t get it. The man couldn’t walk on his own, let alone do this,” Margaret said, her arms wide. “I suppose they’re going to blame us. They’re always blaming us,” she complained.
Tammy walked back in and reported, “The lawyer just left, and the cops are on the way up here.”
Ted drew Mia away and whispered, “We don’t need to be in this room right now.”
“I know, but we were the ones to find him missing,” Mia said concerned.
“Do you want to tell them why you were here in the first place?”
“Well, no.” Mia looked at Margaret Mary, and M&Ms gave her a nod towards the door. Mia mouthed that she would call her and left the room with Ted.
Out in the hall, Burt was waiting. “Father Alessandro mentioned that he would be in the chapel. He suggested that we meet him there.”
Mia looked at the woman who was standing behind Burt and said pointedly, “Well, we might as well leave. There is no one in that room to be concerned about.”
Sister Agnes moved past Burt and disappeared back into her domain.
“Now, where’s this chapel?” Mia asked.
Ted and Burt looked at her guiltily as if they should know.
“Come on, I don’t know either. Let’s consult the information desk,” she suggested and encouraged both men towards the elevator.
The doors opened and two Illinois state patrolmen walked out of the elevator. Mia, Ted and Burt walked in. When the doors closed and they were headed down, Mia let out the breath she was holding.
“Perhaps we ought to let Tom know that we were in that room, just in case,” Ted advised.
Mia pulled out her phone and hit speed dial number four.
~
“Mr. Maynard, I recommend that you stay in your apartment until I get this matter cleared up with the police,” the attorney said, pulling up to the curb of the high-rise. “I’ll send your physician over in the morning to check on you.”
“It’s just a couple of bumps and bruises, I assure you. Other than that I’m in tiptop condition,” Thaddeus informed him. “A good night’s rest, and this body will be up for adventure.”
“About your adventures, I’d suggest you stay away from the wheel of an automobile.”
“You, sir, worry too much. I’ll be just dandy. A quick talk with my accountant, some real estate professionals, and I’ll be up and running.”
“Are you planning a purchase? Vacation property?” the attorney asked before the doorman opened the door for his client.
“I’m planning on buying a house. A very special house,” Thaddeus said and walked into the building.
~
Mia walked into the chapel, leaving Ted and Burt in search of the new coffee kiosk recommended by the information volunteer. Father Alessandro sat in the front. His head was bowed, and his eyes were closed. Mia slid in beside him and sat staring at the nondenominational, stained glass window display. She studied the representation of the sun rising on a happy hillside and smiled. Perhaps there was a sun or son in every religion. She was pondering this when the priest raised his head and put a weary hand over Mia’s and squeezed gently.
“There is always hope. The sun will rise, and a new day brings possibilities.”
“You really must keep that mind reading to a minimum, Father,” Mia warned. “My thoughts may put a blush to your cheeks. After all, I’m a married lady now.”
This caused the priest to laugh. “Oh, Mia, you do know how to take the stress out. No wonder you are so loved by your friends.”
Mia felt uncomfortable with this observation but let it go. Aside from Ted, she was sure she was just tolerated by the others. She changed the subject by asking, “What did the good sister have to say?”
“She claims that her patient, Thaddeus something or another, has a soul-jumper who has taken up occupancy in his body and mind. She claims this entity boasted in a blasphemous manner that he was God, and he would be up to no good, and she should hook her wagon to his star, more or less.”
“Would I be jumping to conclusions by thinking that this soul-jumper is the much sought after Brentwood?”
“No, I think it would be a fair guess. I also think that it’s time to have a conversation with my old friend Father Santos. But first, how about letting me buy you and Ted a late steak dinner downtown?”
“You should include Burt in on the invitation. He’ll decline, but it would be nice to ask. If he accepts, I’ll buy the meal,” Mia promised.
“You’re very kind to that man, Mia. Perhaps he would heal faster if you weren’t,” the priest suggested. “But on second thought, who am I to give you relationship advice?”
Mia looked over at him. “You are a very wise man, but I am what I am, Father. I can’t continue to hurt someone who saved me from myself.”
“He did that did he?”
“Burt Hicks came into my life uninvited. He accepted me and my talents for what they are. True, we weren’t suited, and we did let ourselves get pulled into something that perhaps shouldn’t have been. But I don’t regret the time together. I learned how to trust, to be proud of who I am, and how to not be the town crazy anymore. He’s still my boss, and I chafe at his reins sometimes, but I value him and his opinions.”
“How does your new husband feel about this?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him. I don’t speak for Ted.”
“Time for us to get going. Lend a hand to this old man, will you?” he said, making motions to rise.
Mia played her part and assisted the very agile priest to stand. Together, arm-in-arm, they left the small chapel.
Chapter Ten
Andy Carmichael’s job was an easy one. Explaining it to others, however, was tough.
“What is it you do again, Andy?” people would ask upon meeting him for the first time.
“I watch the graveyard.”
“By watching, you mean?”
“I am the night watchman for the Big Bear Lake Cemetery. I make sure no one vandalizes the graves,” he would answer proudly. He used to work days cutting grass and pulling weeds there, but after his uncle Bob died, the job was offered to him. After finding out that his night caretaker duties would not include landscaping, he jumped at the opportunity. It took him a while to become acclimated to his new hours, and there were a few instances when he fell asleep on the job. Fortunately for Andy, this was a law-abiding small town, and the mischief makers were away at the state finals playing basketball for the Big Bear Lake High School Bears at the time.
He walked down the center drive, stopping every fe
w yards and shining his light down each row of stones as he patrolled. He did this three times a shift. It was what his uncle had done. The major area of concern was up ahead. The elaborate mausoleums with their expensive adornments and large slabs of marble drew amateur graffiti artists to them like moths to flame. The kids looked at the slabs not as walls encasing generations of Tilberts, Fosters and Westersons, but as blank canvases ready for their paints. Sometimes the youth used the shelter provided by these three tombs for smoking, drinking, and yes, the occasional loss of a cherry. Three times last summer, Andy had walked into the picture and saved some poor drunk girl from doing something regrettable with the pimple-faced date she was with. It’s not that Andy was against sex, but it had a time and place, and his graveyard wasn’t the place.
This graveyard was reputed to be haunted, and Andy had seen a few things he couldn’t explain away. He just dealt with each occurrence as if a human had perpetrated the deed. He checked out the noise, examined the area for human interference and noted it in his notebook for the dayshift. It wasn’t the ghosts he was hired to guard against, it was the living.
Tonight he heard some sort of activity just south of the old section of the graveyard. This is where the poor were interred. It was a section of ground that had been recently opened up, waiting for this month’s unclaimed bodies from the county morgue. After so many months lying in the freezer, the unclaimed would receive a burial overseen by whichever religious official was in rotation at the time. The body, housed in a charity box, would be lowered into the ground, a few words said over it and then covered up and labeled with a number. He found this sad, but as he understood it, other counties burned their bodies and kept the remains on a shelf somewhere. Andy thought that this at least was more respectable. He wasn’t a fan of cremation. If everyone cremated their loved ones, he’d be out of a job.
He approached the area boldly, moving his light over the ground, ordering, “Stop what you’re doing and back away from the grave.”
The miscreants snarled at him. He directed the beam of light on what he thought were men and took a step back as the beam caught one of the troublemakers full in the face. Dead eyes looked back at him. There was no mistaking the cloudy, dull film of the dead. He’d seen enough zombie movies to recognize this affliction of the undead. Was this a zombie? His immature mind was certain it was. “Get back in that grave, you monster!” he shouted, picking up the shovel the zombie had discarded. He swung at the thing and was surprised by the yelp, followed by a male voice saying, “Quit doing that. It hurts.”
The voice sounded familiar. “Damn-it-all, Randy, take off that mask,” Andy ordered.
The man did as told.
“Who’s with you?” he asked, focusing the beam of his light on the other zombie-masked male.
“It’s me, Steve. We were only funning you,” he said, pulling the mask off his head. “You should have seen your face.”
“You idiots are going to get me fired,” Andy said to his bar buddies. “I could have killed Randy with that shovel.”
“No kidding,” the wounded man said, rubbing his shoulder. “Good thing for me that you’ve got a bad aim. What were you going for?”
“Your head. You take off zombies’ heads,” he explained.
“Shit, I’m glad you didn’t have a machete handy,” Randy said.
“Darn, I was just saying to my boss, ‘Evert, how about getting me a machete just in case the dead rise from their graves,’” Andy joked. “So you went to all this trouble to mess with me. I’m touched. Now get the fuck out of here, and let me do my job.”
“We love you too,” Steve said, picking up his mask. He fumbled around and asked, “Shine your light over here, bud? I’m missing my cape.”
“Cape? Zombies don’t wear capes,” Andy said.
“I told him that when he showed up in it,” Randy said. “Wait, I see it. It’s over there between the two angels.” Randy pointed.
“Nah, it’s here under my duffle,” Steve said, pulling it off the ground and shaking it.
Randy and Andy were staring off into the old section of the graveyard.
“If that’s not your cape then what is it?” Randy asked.
Andy turned the beam of his flashlight full on the area between the two angel grave markers. Sure enough, there was some sort of black thing absorbing the light, suspended in the air. He shook his head explaining, “Probably some stunt. A black sheet on a fishing line.” He turned around and asked, “Okay, fess up, which one of you…”
“Dude, it’s moving,” Steve said, backing up.
By the looks on his friends’ faces, he knew that they weren’t involved in this caper.
“Stop right there,” Andy ordered. “This area is off limits after sundown. Leave peaceably or I’ll have to call the police.”
The black mass continued to move forward. Andy stepped up, drew his phone out and dialed. “Yes, I’ve got a problem out at the graveyard. Old section, take the center road. I have…” Andy stopped talking. He was struck dumb, witnessing the mass morph into the form of a rather shapely woman.
“It’s just a chick,” Steve called after Randy who had taken off running. “A naked chick. Come to papa,” he said, striding forward, pushing Andy out of the way.
“Steve, I wouldn’t,” Andy warned, “It’s not what you…”
Steve screamed as the naked woman’s face changed, and the skin began peeling off in strips. Andy pulled his friend backwards by the collar, and the two of them started running away from the scene. They had made the three mausoleums before they looked back.
“What was that? Did you see her face?” Steve asked rattled.
“I don’t know, but it’s over. Something we lived through. Where’s Randy?”
“He took off running. Probably back at the car. Shit, I’ve got the keys. Be a sport and walk me there?”
“Sure, but I’m not holding your hand,” Andy teased. “And then you can drive me back… Damn. I better call the cops. Where’s my phone?”
They heard the sirens approaching, and Andy’s brain fought to come up with some kind of explanation as they watched the cars enter the graveyard and speed up the center drive.
Andy quickened his pace to intercept the deputies before they collared Randy, who was no doubt crapping his pants by now. Steve joined him, and the two ran towards the now-still patrol cars. Their flashing lights bounced off the stones of the cemetery, giving the night a surreal look. As Andy approached, he called out, “I’m the night watchman. I called…” his words fell away.
Standing beside Steve’s Escort were deputies Braverman and Chambers. They were staring at something on the windshield of the vehicle. It looked like Randy, but it couldn’t be Randy. Randy was alive and laughing at the latest stunt he pulled. He wasn’t the mask-wearing broken man impaled on the metal arms of the wipers, one through the throat, one through the groin. He wasn’t the man whose blood was pooling at the bottom of the window. It wasn’t his blood that the message had been written in.
Just another zombie death
~
Sheriff Ryan was mad. He had not only been rousted from his bed at four in the morning, but he was standing in the pouring rain underneath the canopy his deputies had raised over the crime scene with the help of Andy the night watchman. Steve, Andy’s friend, sat in Braverman’s cruiser crying silent tears. Those were the worst. Ryan could handle sobbing females and wailing males, but the silent criers were already lost. This witness would not be of any use tonight. He suggested Chambers should take him to get checked out at the hospital before bringing him into the station. Shock had set in, and shock was nothing to fool around with in his experience.
Andy seemed like he was bearing up. His family history of being caretakers sobered him to the reality of death. He’d only rarely viewed the undertaker’s version of the long sleep upon the faces of the dead, but he did understand that no amount of self-flagellation was going to bring his friend back. It was time to man up and aid the po
lice in finding Randy’s killer.
“They were just playing around. Dressed up like zombies to hopefully scare the crap out of me,” Andy told Ryan.
“Did they?”
“I near took Randy’s head off with a shovel. Hit him in the shoulder. Write that down. That one’s mine.”
Ryan nodded and asked, “Which shoulder?”
Andy stepped back into the rain and relived the scene. He mimed picking up the shovel and stepped back and answered, “His right shoulder. He didn’t like it much. Poor Randy.”
“Look at me, Andy. Son, I need you to stay with me. Tell me what happened next.”
Andy wiped the rain off his face with the damp sleeve of his jacket and repeated the story he’d told to Tom Braverman. Ryan followed Tom’s notes and saw that, with the exception of a few more remembered details, the story matched.
“I knew it was a ghost when it changed. Steve’s never seen one before, but, well, you get used to this kind of thing working nights. There’s the weeping spinster over in the Veterans section and…”
Ryan raised his hand to stop Andy before he went on to tell him about the children who played hide and seek by the duck pond. Ryan had heard these stories from Andy’s uncle. “Let’s stay with tonight. You said her face peeled off?”
“In strips about an inch wide. Never saw that before. Most ghosts just float around, some walk, but none that I’ve seen peel.”
Ryan listened to the rest of Andy’s account. Braverman found the dropped cell phone where Andy said he dropped it and found evidence of their flight in the opposite direction that Randy ran. The footprints were still there, pooling with rain water. It would take a while, but soon they would disappear into the mud.
“Did you hear anything? Randy shouting for help?” Ryan asked.
“Just my heart beating. I shouldn’t have run but…”
“I think you did the right thing. After all, Randy had already left, and you had no idea what this thing you saw was. You did right by calling it in,” he consoled.