Soul Insurance

by Glenn Bullion

  He waited patiently, but pressed when the silence stretched. "Yeah?"

  "Could I crash here tonight? I know it's weird. We don't even know each other. But I really don't have any place else to go."

  "You don't need a place, Brooke. You don't need food or shelter. You don't even need to sleep, but if you wanted to, you could sleep in mid-air."

  "Okay, I guess that's a no."

  "No, it's not. I'm just telling you, trying to help you. You can stay here tonight if you want. I've fallen asleep on that couch many times."

  "Thank you."

  He shrugged. "Sure."

  He stood up and headed for the bathroom. It wasn't hard to understand where Brooke was coming from. Even Ryan, who'd traveled the world, liked to unwind at one place, often choosing Connor's apartment as his hangout. Still, his nerves were stretched. Brooke Martin was not Mike Burns. From what he could see, Brooke was actually a very nice woman. He could listen to her laugh all day. But the thought of Mike Burns' soul being twenty feet away while he slept was not a pleasant one.

  "Hey."

  Connor had one foot in the bathroom, and leaned his head back.

  "Thanks for everything," Brooke said. "I couldn't get anyone to talk to me today."

  "No problem. That's what I'm known for, my amazing people skills."

  "I'll bet," she said, laughing. "I'll be gone before you wake up. I don't want you to have to explain to your friends or your girlfriend or whatever why a soul is floating around your place."

  "You don't have to rush or anything. Want me to leave the TV on?"

  "No, thanks. Quiet is better."

  "I'm definitely with you on the quiet. You have a good night."

  CHAPTER 8

  Connor didn't know what time his bladder woke him up. He almost looked at the alarm clock before squinting his eyes shut. The last thing he wanted to know was the time. It would be impossible to get back to sleep if he knew how many hours he had left.

  He opened the bedroom door and took one step into the hall when he saw the glow in the living room. He'd completely forgotten about Brooke. It had been a long time since a woman, living or soul, spent the night. The last thing he wanted was for her to peer over the couch and see him in his boxers.

  There was no need to turn on any lights. He knew his apartment in the dark. As he crossed the hall to the bathroom he heard a quiet sobbing from the living room.

  He didn't know what position Brooke was in, but saw her soul buried in a cushion near the end of the couch. His heart broke to hear her cry, but he didn't know what to do. He didn't know her well enough to offer advice.

  After going to the bathroom he went back to his room without saying a word.

  The nightmare had the same feel, but as always events had shifted around. This time Mike Burns killed his mother first. He tortured Connor's father and made him watch. The nightmare shifted to the voices he'd been unable to run away from.

  You can't sleep, kid. I won't let you. Uncle Mikey's gonna talk to you all night.

  You'll never be rid of me.

  "Connor, wake up."

  I won't rest until I find a way to kill you.

  I'll kill you in the next life, if I have to. You're mine.

  "Connor? Are you in there somewhere?"

  He awoke from the nightmare with a soul six inches from his face. Once again he was six years old, terrified and alone. He tried to push the soul away, thrashing under the sheets.

  "Hey, hey!" Brooke shouted. "Watch where you're waving your hands. It's just me."

  He sat up in bed as Brooke floated back a few feet. His hair was drenched in sweat and a stitch or two popped in his shoulder. It took a moment to speak.

  "What are you doing in my room?"

  "Your alarm's been going off for five minutes, and I thought I heard you screaming in here."

  Glancing at the clock, he saw it was six in the morning. Another night of what seemed like ten minutes of sleep. His hands shook as he ran them through his hair. He knew he looked terrible, and the humiliation wasn't helping. He wanted Brooke to leave his room, and was somewhat irritated she was still in his apartment, but didn't have it in him to ask her to leave.

  She floated closer, and Connor stiffened. It still wasn't easy to separate Brooke from the man that killed his parents, as silly as it was.

  "You might have to get your shoulder checked out. It looks a little red. Do you always have nightmares like that?"

  He forced a smile. "I have to get ready for work. You're not gonna peek on me in the shower, are you?"

  She laughed, and the nightmare quickly retreated. "You're cute, but you're not that cute."

  He waited until she left, and peered down both sides of the hall. He didn't think Brooke was the kind of woman to spy in a bathroom, but he thought of the crazy things Ryan did.

  After a shower, Connor again darted across the hall in nothing but a towel.

  "Hey Brooke? Are you still out there?" he called. "Did you want a ride somewhere? I can take you wherever you want."

  There was only silence as he slipped his shirt on.

  "Brooke?"

  He checked every room in the apartment. She was gone. No goodbye, no have-a-nice-life. He felt strangely empty as he ate breakfast alone on the couch. He wasn't completely comfortable around Brooke, and was okay with her leaving. Still, he wanted to at least give her a proper goodbye.

  Life was strange, especially the afterlife. Ryan was gone, and a spirit that needed help disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

  All he could do was hope she'd be okay.

  *****

  Brooke quietly slipped through the front door after she heard Connor step into the shower. A devious smile crossed her face as she made her way down the stairs. It would have been a lie if she told herself she wasn't tempted to poke her head through Connor's shower curtain. He was a cute guy with a killer smile, but it was painfully obvious he had issues with her. He tried to hide it, but she knew every time he looked at her he probably only saw the soul of Mike Burns.

  She would always be appreciative of his help, but it was best for both of them if she simply left.

  The morning sun shined down on her, and she tried to tell herself it would be a good day. The living went about their lives, as did the spirits around her. Some flew above buildings, others over the cars. One spirit ran past her at a high speed. It was almost uncomfortable to watch. She wondered if she could run that fast.

  The spirit of a man stopped his flight over the street and looked at her. He flashed her a smile as he hovered over the traffic light.

  "What's with the nightgown?" he shouted.

  "You like it? I went to a slumber party last night."

  He laughed shortly and resumed his flight. Brooke laughed with him, feeling a sudden surge of bravery. She could say anything she wanted and have no consequences. Amber would have been proud of her.

  She glanced down at her bare feet and wiggled her toes. It was time she dressed in something different.

  "Okay, it's all in my head," she whispered, and closed her eyes. "I want to wear some real clothes now. Maybe some cut-off jeans and sandals."

  The world went on around her as she stood still. She wasn't sure what she expected. A flash of light, or maybe a strange noise. When she opened her eyes she shook her head in disappointment. The nightgown still clung to her thighs and her feet remained bare.

  "I make a terrible dead person."

  She decided to try something else. Closing her eyes, she thought of her place of work. The parking lot, front lobby, lab, the collection of desks outside Wesley's office. She imagined being there with her coworkers, sitting at her own desk processing paperwork.

  A car honking pulled her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes to see she was still standing on the sidewalk, not having moved an inch. She groaned and looked up at the souls flying above her with jealousy.

  "I'm not even gonna try that." She laughed as she put one foot in front of the other. "At least I can st
ill walk."

  It took her two hours to walk to Soul-Ful. She was tempted to run, maybe see if she could at least get the hang of super speed. There was no need, as she didn't have to be anywhere in a hurry.

  Soul-Ful's lobby was empty. A tech walked from the main floor to the lab, barely giving Brooke a glance. She walked through the doors and simply watched her coworkers.

  "I wish everything else was as easy as walking through stuff."

  Lisa, one of her fellow paper-pushers, looked up at her.

  "Have we got any claims scheduled for today?" she called. "We've got a loose soul up here."

  A few salesmen poked their heads from their offices, confirming no resurrections were scheduled.

  "Sorry," Lisa said. "You should have got soul insurance."

  That was it. Everyone went back to work, chatting and drinking their coffee. If Brooke had the ability she would have slapped Lisa across the face. She hoped she never treated another soul like that. The last thing a spirit wanted to hear was a snide comment about purchasing soul insurance.

  Both Amber's and her own desk were empty. She should have known Amber wouldn't come in to work. Her mouth twisted into a bitter snarl as she stared at the unfinished work on her desk. She'd spent nearly four years helping people reclaim their lives. She didn't do it entirely for the money. It was very satisfying to see the people leave the lab, getting accustomed to their new bodies, and knowing she had a part in that.

  But when she died it was merely a fluke she could get help from Connor.

  She thought about him. The man really was amazing, and it was strange to think he couldn't see it. She wasn't ashamed to admit that if she was still alive and could hear spirits she probably wouldn't keep it a secret. She could only imagine the pick-up lines he used at the clubs.

  A familiar picture on Amber's desk caught her eye. It was taken just after they'd graduated high school, before they started working together at Soul-Ful. They were at a pool party, and Amber was pulling on a resistant Brooke at the side of the pool. The picture was taken at the exact moment Brooke got the upper hand, sending them both into the water. Brooke smiled at the memory as tears threatened to escape.

  "Amber?" a gentle voice said. "Sweetie, you really have to eat."

  Brooke turned at the sound of the voice. The other desks, the bathroom in the corner, Wesley's office, all gone. She was on a familiar set of stairs she hadn't seen in few weeks.

  A shadow fell over her. She looked up to see Amber's mother.

  "Oh, hi," she said, making eye contact with Brooke. "Amber, are you awake?"

  "Leave me alone, Mom."

  Brooke was in Amber's parents' house, more specifically on the stairs leading to the basement. Her legs wobbled for a moment, and she reached for the handrail to steady herself. Her hand passed through the wood and sank into the wall, throwing her even more off balance.

  "Dammit," she muttered. "This is so embarrassing."

  "Brooke's father just called. The funeral is tomorrow at ten."

  "Whatever."

  "I'm gonna make you something to eat."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "I'll make it anyway. You have to eat."

  Brooke allowed herself a small smile as she walked down the stairs. She'd teleported, and had no idea how. She'd thought about Amber, and how much she missed her friend. Apparently that was all it took.

  She stepped foot in the basement they'd spent a lot of time in during high school. Amber had taken over the basement when they were sophomores, making it her lair. Brooke had kissed her first boy there, with urging from Amber.

  The smile vanished from her face when she saw her best friend.

  Amber lay in the same bed they shared during sleepovers. She wore nothing but a white tee-shirt and panties. All Brooke saw was the back of her blonde head, buried in the pillow. Her hand and leg hung over the side, lightly gripping a bottle of whiskey. Amber liked to drink and have a good time, but Brooke knew that wasn't what was happening.

  Brooke's glasses and stuffed bear sat on the nightstand next to the bed.

  "Aww, Amber," Brooke whispered. "What are you doing?"

  Amber noticed the glow and lifted her head. She squinted at Brooke through bloodshot eyes.

  "Go away. Go fly somewhere else." Amber buried her face back in the pillow, but quickly shifted again. "Wait. Brooke, is that you? Or are you just another asshole trying to see my legs?"

  She tried to climb out of bed, and fell to the floor. Brooke rushed to her side and tried to help her up. Her hands went through her arm.

  "Mrs. Johnson!" Brooke called, running to bottom of the stairs.

  Amber's mother sprinted down to the basement, but not because she heard Brooke. Brooke felt silly for even trying. No matter how strong her emotions were, or how real she felt, she was a shadow in the world of the living.

  "She's gone, Mom," Amber said. "I went out to meet Pete, and when I got back she was gone. We got in a fight before I left, about her taking a promotion at work. And now she's dead."

  Amber cried uncontrollably, leaning against the bed on her knees. Brooke cried along with her. Her mother held her tight. She looked up at Brooke and tried to speak with her eyes, telling her she was intruding on a private moment. Brooke walked up the basement stairs and through the house that was almost a second home to her.

  She sat on the steps alone outside Amber's family home, and almost lost her temper when another soul passing by made a comment about her nightgown. The tears came hard and fast. Seeing her best friend falling apart was too much.

  Tomorrow her body would be going in the ground.

  Connor said her life wasn't over. She wasn't sure if she believed him.

  *****

  Connor stepped into his quiet, spirit-free living room. The workday went by painlessly, which was exactly what he needed. His shoulder was healing nicely, the pain finally starting to lessen.

  He threw his wallet and keys on the couch and scavenged the kitchen, searching for dinner. Some chicken was still in the fridge, along with fresh broccoli. He turned on music as he boiled water and pulled the steamer basket from the cabinet. As he cut the broccoli his thoughts kept drifting to Brooke. He never thought he'd see that particular soul again, and certainly never help it. But that's exactly what he did, and it felt better than he thought it would.

  He was still irritated she didn't say goodbye. Of course, she never said she was going to. She simply said she'd be gone before he woke up, which wasn't exactly true, but there was nothing about a goodbye in her words.

  Conflicting emotions tore through him. He thought he'd be thankful at never seeing her soul again. But she made him smile. She was obviously intelligent, a little shy, and very willful. He actually thought the two of them could be friends, if he didn't have his nightmares to remind him of where she came from.

  Connor admired his masterpiece. Microwaved leftover chicken with fresh broccoli and butter. He sat on the couch and managed to eat for three seconds before he noticed the glow to his left.

  The spirit hovered a little too close, and Connor scooted away to get some room. He turned the music down and drank a sip of his tea.

  "Brooke?"

  "No," a male voice answered. "My name's Brad."

  "You spirits love to interrupt a guy's dinner, don't you?"

  "I can come back later, if you want. I just…I hate to ask, but I need your help."

  Connor would have been annoyed a week ago, but he only laughed. The past few spirits he'd helped, especially Brooke, left him with the feeling of actually being useful.

  "Nah. What can I do for you?"

  "Please. I just need you to call my wife, and tell her I love her."

  He waited for the rest, and was surprised at the silence. "That's it?"

  "We'd been married twenty years, and as time went on, I said it less and less. You take it for granted. When you're alive, you take everything for granted. We're surrounded by what we'll become. Spirits. They should remind us to live life t
o the fullest."

  Connor nearly broke his eyelids trying not to roll his eyes at the cliche, but he liked Brad's enthusiasm.

  "Okay, but seriously, you have to have more than that. If I call and tell her that, she's gonna hang up on me. Do you have a poem or something?"

  "All you have to do is say her sexy tiger still loves her."

  He nearly spit out his tea. "Did you say sexy tiger?"

  "We had little names for each other."

  He shook his head as he grabbed the phone and dialed the number Brad recited. It rang six times before going to an answering service.

  "This message is for the ex-wife of Brad. I can hear spirits, and most of them have some complicated message they want me to deliver. But Brad just wants me to say he's still your sexy tiger, and he loves you."

  Connor chuckled as he hung up the phone, and took another stab at his dinner.

  "That will make her laugh," Brad said. "There's nothing better in the world than her laugh. Thank you. Ryan said you'd help me. He's a very wise young man."

  "Ryan spends his days chasing women—both living and spirits—spying on women's locker rooms, and partying as much as he can."

  "Like I said. Very wise."

  He laughed shortly. "How long have you been dead?"

  "About three years now. A heart attack got me. I was actually gonna look into soul insurance."

  "That's getting more popular. I guess there's something to say about getting a nice, new body."

  "I thought the same crap. But I've had a good life. I wanted to get as much out of it as I could and not depend on science for more fun."

  "I like that. That's good thinking."

  "Speaking of fun, Ryan said you'd probably be glued to your couch watching baseball."

  "They're traveling today, play in New York tomorrow."

  "That's not good. If I was alive and could hear souls, oh man, the fun I'd have. I'd seduce people and souls both."

  Connor smiled, not quite believing his ears. He liked Brad. "Don't make me call your wife, now."

  "She's a wild one. She'd probably come along for the ride. That's who you want to find, Connor. Find someone who is just plain fun."