Waking Up Dead

by Savoy, Skye

  I used a huge cookie sheet like Wonder Woman used her arm bands to divert each flaming projectile. One of the fire balls bounced onto the top of the senator’s head and caught his hideous wig on fire. Unfazed by the stench of melting fake hair, he continued toward me. Plastic dripped into his eyes. He jerked the thing off. Bright red blisters festered through the steam rising from his bald scalp. Senator Elvis stepped on the burning hairpiece as he resumed his militant march toward me.

  My hands got fried from the very hot, hotbox I used as a shield while I crab-crawled backwards to the walk-in fridge. I intended to lock him inside and pray for the disappearance of whatever manipulated him

  Some shield. A fireball landed on my apron above my left breast. I winced. All the air rushed from my lungs like a linebacker hit me in the gut. I focused on ice to cool the heat. The flames went out with a hiss as if someone poured water on it.

  My sense of self-preservation in full force, I visualized blasting him apart. I took a peek from behind the rolling hot box. Damn. Still in one piece.

  “Who or what are you? Why are you doing this to me?”

  The senator’s face contorted into inhuman angles. “There’s no need for ‘Suspicious Minds’ here, Ava.”

  I forgot to breathe. “How do you know who I am?”

  Trays from my cart sliced through the air at warp speed toward him. He dodged every one while smiling like a deranged game show host.

  “You’re a ‘Hard Headed Woman’ who was supposed to be dead!” The senator roared and slammed the door behind us.

  My efforts to freeze him into position had no effect. I jettisoned the heavy metal box into evil Elvis with colossal force.

  The senator pounded into the door with so much momentum he cracked the glass. He remained motionless, slumped against the thick metal door.

  It’s over. Relief washed over me in a big wave. I tried to flash into the kitchen, but something caught me. I struggled desperately against the grip of an unseen hand that pulled me back to into the refrigerator. The damn senator had me by the throat against the wall. Blackness swirled in his eyes and foam clung to his lips.

  “It’s ‘Now or Never!’” Spittle hit me in the face as his hands crushed down on my neck.

  Red dots danced before my eyes. I felt like a catfish stranded on a gravel bar as my cheeks moved in and out to suck air without any luck. My fingers got skinned and bloody as I clawed at his meaty paws. The crack of bones echoed in the small space as my feet pressed against the senator’s chest to gain leverage.

  I no longer saw out of Stacy’s eyes. Power of sheer evil proportion forced my head out of hers. The rest of me was about to be booted out into the cold spirit world or worse.

  I conjured up a huge ball of electricity from deep inside my core and thrust it up through the amulet. The senator flew toward the fridge door again. The lone dangling light bulb crunched as he went.

  I heard his body crack against metal. I knew better than to wait or even grope for the walls in pitch-blackness. If the senator can manifest a fireball, I can too. Huh. It works.

  My feet squished through indistinguishable things strewn all over the floor thanks to Senator Elvis. Fluorescent light slowly pierced through where the door slowly opened. The senator’s, bald, blistered head fell with a thud onto Mel’s foot. Mason pulled her into a protective hold unmindful of the rolling pin she brandished like a baseball bat.

  Senator Elvis groaned. Mel broke free from Mason and whacked a red lump to go with the other welts on his head. The senator moaned before he exited into unconsciousness again. In my dazed state from lack of oxygen to my brain, I noticed a pitch-black shadow seep from his body into the floor.

  Suriyel appeared. His dark eyes blazed. Every sinew in his body stood battle ready. The bronze tip of his sword touched the imitation Elvis’ throat.

  “Glad you could make it,” I said, as I kept my voice and facial features flat to hide my surge of happiness. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself at him. I studied the cords in his arms as he held the sword rock steady. Okay, I want a lot more than that very, very soon.

  “Hell, I would have been here earlier if we could’ve gotten the door to the kitchen open. We were trying after we heard the first thump, but it felt like two ton Tessie was pulling from your side,” Mel explained.

  “Don’t kill him. He didn’t do it,” I pleaded with Suriyel. He raised his eyebrows in a quizzical gesture, and removed the sword.

  “Now, if I’d had a bat, I coulda done it. All a rolling pin does is rough ‘em up a bit,”

  Mason’s mouth dangled open as he stared at my hands. Every freckle in his face stood out. “Uh, Stac, is that light coming out of your fingers?”

  Aw crap! I forgot about the beams of light I used to illuminate my way across the fridge. I quickly extinguished them, made my way around the senator, and through the open fridge door. Suriyel and I held each other’s gaze for a moment. A bruise under his left eye and the split in his bottom lip healed while I watched.

  “Did Sam do that?” I reached to touch his lip. He jerked away.

  “Take care of your friends. I will heal the senator,” Suriyel mumbled through his injured lip, which actually looked even more kissable than usual. “Go!”

  “Who’s Sam?” Mel asked. Her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs when she saw where the fireball burned through my shirt. “Is that a scorch mark on…” She pointed to my chest.

  My teeth chattered like a retro windup toy, so I nodded my head. I survived another attempt on my life. Death and near death experiences gave me the shakes.

  Mason avoided all contact while he ushered me to the chair he occupied earlier in the evening. Who could blame him? I shook so hard, I looked like a crack head going through withdrawals.

  There was no way to erase what happened no matter how much I hated it. Mel and Mason were right to be scared of me. I surveyed the damage Elvis and I had done. Canapés, shrimp, tarts, mushrooms, forks, spoons, and tongs were strewn on the floor. A knife jutted out of the bathroom door. Maybe I can persuade Suriyel to “heal” the damage to the kitchen.

  “What the hell happened,” Mel asked as she handed me a glass of water. Some sloshed onto my pants because she paid more attention to the hole in my uniform.

  I told her, after the chattering finally stopped, how the senator flipped out, and came after me for no apparent reason.

  “Wish I could have gotten in there earlier! I woulda’ kicked his ass for you!” Mason flexed the little bumps he called muscles in a Hulk Hogan pose. His bravado endeared him to me even if it was fake.

  Mel jerked her head toward the refrigerator where the senator remained comatose. “Judging by the heep-a, heep-a, ugly pudge over there, I don’t think she needed your help!”

  Suriyel concentrated, deeply. His palms hovered over the places where the blisters were the worst from the flaming Elvis wig. The sores evaporated before my eyes as he worked his healing magic. A swell of pride replaced the anger I felt toward him earlier.

  “I told you I was gonna take care of him but you found a weapon before I did.” He sheepishly indicated the rolling pin. Mel left it over by the senator when she poked him a few times to check for signs of life.

  “Whatever, Mr. Universe!” Mel rolled her eyes, then fixed them on me. “And, you—you aren’t telling me the whole story.”

  Suriyel stood guard over the senator. The downturned corners of his mouth and creases in his forehead were good indicators of his unhappiness.

  “I am telling you all you need to know.” I waited for the answer to go over like Big Mama on her scooter when she drown in her neighbor’s kiddy pool.

  “Oh, I need to know okay.” Her lips thinned to the size of a paper match. She stabbed her finger through the hole in my chef’s uniform. “You look like you were set on fire. I can’t see a blister on you.”

  “Yeah. And, don’t forget she healed me like Jimmy Swaggart or one of them tent revival ministers.”

  “Mason, I ser
iously doubt that Jimmy Swaggart ever healed anybody who didn’t pay him off first.”

  “Billy Graham—whatever.”

  “Billy Graham is probably the only one out of all of them who didn’t do things like that,” Mel defended.

  “Listen y’all, I can’t tell you what’s going on because I’m not really sure. All I can say is that the night Aunt Ava died, something happened to me,” I searched for some un-incriminating words, “Something miraculous.”

  “What kind of miraculous are we talking about? Like the Virgin Birth,” Mason asked with a snicker.

  I wanted to pour the rest of the glass of water on him.

  “No, you big dummy! You ought to know she’s not a virgin!”

  “Thanks for nothing, Mel.” I gave her a glare guaranteed to sizzle butter. “All I know is I seem to be…uh…protected from things that kill most people.”

  “Did you see your aunt’s ghost that night?” Mason’s eyeballs were the size of silver dollar pancakes.

  “Maybe she’s your guardian angel now,” Mel suggested.

  “Yeah, something like that. I have a feeling I’m gonna’ need all the protection I can get with all these weirdoes coming after me.”

  “You think whatever killed your aunt is after you?”

  “Something sure as hell is.” And, it knows my true identity.

  Mason strutted over to the door where the knife was impaled. Exertion emphasized each word as he tried to pull it out: “I’m…gonna’…kill…him…first…” The knife didn’t budge.

  “Geez, don’t strain yourself,” Mel mocked, then laughed when he gave up, and skulked over to where we stood.

  “You aren’t gonna kill anybody. Besides, I’m not even sure it’s human.”

  The pallor of Mel and Mason’s skin reminded me of green tomatoes. The senator stirred before they could pepper me with more questions.

  “I wish I hadn’t left that rolling pin over there,” Mel muttered,

  My legs wobbled as I got up from the chair and walked gingerly over to where the senator struggled to sit up. “I don’t think he’ll be giving us much trouble now.”

  “What in the Sam hell happened,” a very mystified senator asked, rubbing his blister-free head. He flinched when he touched the huge lump from Mel’s rolling pin.

  “You mean you don’t remember anything?” Mel was incredulous.

  The three of us lifted his unsteady body to a standing position and propped him against the refrigerator door. He slid over to my side. Mason caught him, then pulled him back to the center.

  The senator surveyed the missing sequins, torn fringe, and scorch marks on his costume. He stuck a finger into one of the blood-rimmed holes where the prongs of the fork went into his arm. “I…I don’t understand. Can somebody tell me,” he asked in a nervous plea.

  “Well, senator, we came to get something out of the freezer and found you lying right here just like this,” I lied through my teeth and waited for lightening to strike.

  “Somebody else must have been in here with me,” he insisted.

  “I didn’t see anyone else.” Except for me and the creepy smoke-creature who crawled into the floor. I shuddered.

  Mel opened her mouth, and shut it with a snap, which sounded like an old clutch purse. Mason looked longingly at the exit.

  “This was one of my best costumes! Now I’m going to have to have another one made,” whined the senator.

  “Somebody actually made it for you? I thought it was a rental. Didn’t you Stacy?”

  I nodded and wondered if Mel also pitied the poor seamstress who ran all that polyester through her sewing machine.

  “Mason, can you help the senator find his regular clothes?” I asked in an effort to move the senator along and get us out of there faster. Suriyel and I needed to have a long talk.

  The senator was still in shock when Penny Beecher came to collect him. He didn’t mention anything about the night’s events to her as they walked through the semi-clean kitchen. I dragged the shelves and broken containers into the refrigerator. Suriyel offered to dispose of the evidence for me.

  “Elvis has left the building,” Mason thundered as if it’d built up in his system for years.

  “I know you did not just say that.”

  Mel giggled and smacked Mason on his newly healed shoulder. She didn’t offer to help pick up the trays that went clattering down from the cart he stumbled into.

  “Damn, girl. Were you a sumo wrestler in a former life?”

  I followed her outside, and prayed she didn’t hear his remark. She stopped mid-stride and swung around. The leftover appetizers hit the side of the cartons she carried. “I just thought of something.”

  I stopped short. The chafing dishes I balanced teetered precariously. Mason ran into my backside with the cart. The dishes fell on the ground. “This is just par for the course,” I mumbled and bent to retrieve the dirt encrusted objects.

  Mel prattled on, oblivious to the train wreck she triggered. “There’s a new girl at mama’s salon.” She looked down at me as I struggled to pick everything up. “What are you doing down there? Anyway, Kris moonlights as a ghost hunter and does séances to send the spirits into the light.”

  I’m only a step or two above a spirit myself. What if she séance-ed me into the afterlife? My finger tips got so numb at the thought I dropped the dish I just picked up.

  “I’m gonna ask her to bring Aunt Ava back so she can tell us who killed her.”

  Mason piped up from behind the cart. “Yeah, Stac, then maybe we could find out who’s trying to kill you.”

  They thought “Ava” was the answer. It struck me as funny. I laughed until I couldn’t breathe.

  “What in the hell is so funny?”

  I set the pans down again to get the keys to the van out of my pocket. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think Ava would be much help.” I turned my back to her to open the large, rusty cargo doors to the vehicle.

  “It was just an idea,” Mel pouted.

  “It ain’t like anybody else is coming up with ideas to help you,” Mason reminded.

  A chorus of frogs resonated in the distance. I skimmed the grounds for Suriyel, but didn’t see much for the fog. It stretched out from the red clay ditches over the manicured lawns surrounding us. The prickly feeling on my neck signaled he waited for me somewhere nearby.

  I threw the doors open and whirled to face my friends. “Thanks ya’ll, for trying to help me, but I’ve got an uneasy feeling about a séance.”

  I cut Mel’s exasperated sigh off. “I mean, when I was growing up, Big Mama always said the dead were meant to stay that way.”

  “Well, Big Mama was a good grandma but you have to admit, she was a relic.”

  What an idiot! Will I ever remember who I’m supposed to be? I hastily stacked the chafing dishes in the back of the van, slammed the door, and marched for the driver’s side.

  “Um, Stac, think you could open the doors up again?” Mason still stood there with the cart topped with Mel’s plastic containers.

  Grrr. I threw my hands up to the heavens, then stomped back to where he and Mel stood. “I’m sorry.”

  The van doors squwanked as I pried them open again. Mel stuffed her fingers in her ears. “You need a new van, and you need to lighten up. You should at least see Kris before you decide against a séance.”

  My bones ached. My head ached. The burn on my chest ached. Her voice was almost as irritating as the noise of my van door, but, Big Mama taught me to grin and bear it until the time came for paybacks. My neck cracked as I rolled my head side to side. “Okay, Mel. I’ll meet with her—anything to shut you up so I can get some sleep.”

  “Good,” she said and plopped herself in the front seat.

  We drove to my—Ava’s home and unloaded the van. We were too bone tired to make even the smallest of small talk.

  The house creeped me out, so I went to Kitty and Robert’s in the wee hours of the morning. I peeled my disgusting clothes off, aimed for
the trash can, then stepped into a steaming shower. Water pelted my skin and calmed my nerves. The tiles of the stall felt cool against my skin as I ran over the night’s events in my head. Then and only then did I allow my emotions to overtake me. I ended up in a crumpled heap on the shower floor. Sobs racked my body. Suriyel’s training enabled me to survive. I should be happy, but here I was, a snotty, crying mess.

  No telling how long I lay there. The water was cold when Suriyel lifted me off the shower floor. He drew me into his chest, naked, while his thick wings enfolded me. I was too wiped out to react the way my body ordinarily did to him.

  “I cleared the rest of the damage done to the kitchen,” his voice soothed as he carried me to my bed. You did well defending yourself.”

  “Really?”

  He chuckled and said, “Yes. You survived did you not?” Gently, he pulled the covers over my completely dry still unclothed body.

  I didn’t have the energy to roll my eyes. I just watched him sit down on the other side of the bed. “What happened,” he grilled.

  “The senator attacked me, but it wasn’t him. I saw a mist come out of him when Mel whacked him. The mist knew my real name.”

  “It was a demon.”

  “But why,” I asked and propped my head up on my palm.

  “We will discuss it tomorrow.” He tenderly brushed an errant strand of hair away from my eyes. I leaned into his touch. “I am sorry I was not there for you. I trained you to take care of yourself though. It will not happen again.” His jaw froze in steel determination.

  Suriyel placed his hand over my eyes as if he sensed the hodge-podge of thoughts stewing in my brain. My eyes closed in peaceful slumber.

  I reached to touch the moon. It looked like a milky white opal some thief needed a flatbed fifty times the size of Memphis to steal. Planets from other galaxies glimmered in reds and yellows. The light of stars I usually admired from solid ground blinded me. I didn’t notice Suriyel had his wings and arms wrapped around me.

  “This will make up for all the places you never got to go on Earth,” he said before going in for a kiss, sure to make a few stars fall. His lips were velvet, but the things his tongue did to my mouth were coarse and demanding.