Lethal Takeout

by Ehsani, Vered

  “Go talk to it,” Shadow whispered, gesturing to me to go forward.

  “Why me?” I whispered back, eyeing the large blob.

  “It’s your job, isn’t it?”

  “No. I’m a janitor, blast it, not a recruiting agent. Not even being paid for this.”

  A slash appeared in the Jell-O like form of Bob. I guess it was his mouth, because Bob began to speak. “Greetings, fellow spectres. I am Robert Esquire, but my associates call me Bob. May I inquire as to the reason for your visit?”

  “BOB,” Timmy cheered and clapped his skillet-sized palms together.

  Shadow whistled and said, “I bet you didn’t see that one coming, did you, janitor?”

  I snorted. “Neither did you.”

  Bob continued to watch us, or at least he might have been. It was hard to tell with Bob. He had no observable facial features, except when he spoke, so he could’ve been staring up at the ceiling or gazing at his non-existent navel, for all any of us could tell.

  “Hi there… Bob,” I said. “I’m here to…”

  “Please. Refrain from telling me,” Bob politely interrupted. “Let me have the pleasure of divining your intention.”

  “Ah…” I glanced at Shadow, who shrugged his shoulders unhelpfully. “Yeah. Sure. Divine away.” I scratched my chin, wondering who talks like that.

  “Having recently transitioned from a mortal life,” Bob mused, “and having missed the exit to that great, mythical tunnel of light, I am now lost in limbo. You, fine sirs, have been sent from on high to personally escort me to those pearly gates.”

  Shadow chuckled softly while I rubbed my chin. “That’s… ah… interesting divining you did there.”

  “Especially the ‘fine sirs’ part,” Shadow added. “That’s definitely a first for me.”

  I laughed, a quick sound that could almost be mistaken for a cough. “Well, Bob, I am here to escort you. Not sure I’d describe the entrance to The Ghost Post as ‘pearly gates’. And I definitely didn’t get sent from high up, that’s for sure.”

  “You wish to take me to The Ghost Post?” Bob quietly asked.

  “Yup,” I said. “That’s the general idea. Although I can’t say I wish to. And I definitely didn’t wish for this job.”

  “Drat and double drat,” the large blob of talking Jell-O said. “Of course, that was going to be my next guess, you know. Escort away.”

  “Did you ever act in any Shakespeare plays?” Shadow asked. “Because you would’ve been brilliant. Apart from the appearance.”

  “Indeed, indeed,” Bob agreed. “Shall we?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I mean, we shall.”

  “INDEED,” Timmy shouted enthusiastically.

  “Wait up there, boy,” Shadow warned, waving a hand at Timmy. “By ‘we’, we mean us.”

  Timmy nodded his head. “US.”

  “No. Not ‘us’ as in all of us floating around here. Just us.” He gestured to Bob and me.

  “OKAY.”

  Shadow rubbed his forehead. “How can I make this clear?” He looked up with a grim expression. “The janitor, the talking Jell-O and me. We’re going. Not you. You’re staying. Here.”

  “I STAY?”

  “And the light comes on,” Shadow said with a roll of his eyes. “That’s right. You stay. We go. Bye-bye.”

  Shadow floated away in a sauntering style. Timmy began to sniff.

  “What is the gargantuan creature doing?” Bob inquired in a politely curious tone just as Timmy unleashed the dam of tears.

  “Ah… Shadow,” I raised my voice above the noise. “Maybe we can let him tag along.”

  “Great idea,” Shadow replied sarcastically. “I’m sure DD would spin cartwheels with delight. Maybe he could prop up the ceiling or something.”

  “Or if Bob has any difficulty during an interview, Timmy could always sit on the person.”

  Bob looked horrified, but Shadow only shrugged. “Sure, boss. You’re the recruiter.”

  “I’m not the recruiter,” I retorted.

  “Oh yeah. You’re the janitor. Whatever. He’s all yours. Let’s fly.”

  I sighed. “I thought things were easier when you were dead. You know: either burn in hell or play harps in heaven.”

  “You wish,” Shadow retorted.

  “Not really. Alright, big boy, you’re coming with us.”

  “COMING? REALLY?” Timmy sniffed and rubbed his eyes.

  “Sure.” I glanced at his huge boots. “Just try not to step on any of us, okay?”

  Timmy smiled gruesomely and nodded. “NO STEPPING.”

  Life of a Lawyer

  Don’t get me wrong: I was and still am truly grateful to Lee for all she did for me. Without her, I’d probably have died a lot sooner and under less pleasant circumstances. I just wish she’d stop complaining about me getting killed. I know she hadn’t wanted the Sunday evening shift. For a start, it was my normal shift and she felt like she was stealing from me (even though I was dead and you can’t really steal from the dead, unless you’re a grave robber). In addition, the Sunday shift was only one person.

  In other words, the place was lonely and unpleasant (more than normal, that is).

  So she griped at me about that.

  “Why’d you have to get yourself killed is beyond me,” she muttered when I saw her next. “Is it asking too much for friends who can stay alive until after I die?”

  I sighed. “So tell me, what happened on the Sunday shift that was so traumatic?”

  She wagged a finger at me. “I don’t think I like your tone very much, young man.”

  Whatever.

  The Sunday shift happened about twenty-four hours after my death. She’d agreed to fill in for me. Besides, it would help to pay for the retirement party.

  “And now I have to do all the planning myself,” she grumbled. “Who plans their own retirement party? That’s what best friends are supposed to do. Fat lot of good you can do now.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m riddled with guilt and remorse. What happened?”

  So she told me. There she was, cautiously peering into a garbage can, holding her breath and her nose: a mouldy sandwich, a candy wrapper, an apple core and pencil shavings. No ghost heads. All clear. Apart from the smell.

  Her shoulders sagged as she released her breath. With a well-practiced movement, she yanked out the plastic bag lining the can and tossed it into the large garbage bin by her side. That done, she pushed her trolley with the bin and cleaning supplies ahead of her and continued down the corridor.

  Lee rounded a corner and stopped. At the end of the corridor was CEO Perkins’s office. The door to that office was always closed. CEO Perkins did not believe in an ‘Open Door’ policy. His was a ‘By Invitation Only’ policy, and Lee had never been and never would be invited.

  CEO Perkins had another policy he was very keen on: the ‘Save Money’ policy. One way to save money was to keep the lighting as low as possible, just barely above the point at which staff might complain about eyestrain and increase the cost of medical insurance. Apart from the low lighting level, all lights must be turned off when not in use. Although most lights were sensor triggered, there were a few that weren’t, and those had better be turned off at the end of the day or bonuses would be in dire jeopardy. Not the partners’ bonuses, of course.

  All these thoughts whizzed through Lee’s mind as she hesitated at one end of the corridor, her hands white-knuckled as they gripped the push handle of her trolley. She pondered her dilemma: from under the closed door of CEO Perkins’ office, there was a strip of light leaking out.

  “Who was the idiot who left that light on?” she grumbled. As far as Lee knew, there was only one idiot who could have: CEO Perkins.

  She glanced around, as if hoping for inspiration or another person she could persuade to do it. No inspiration. No one to help. But sure as the sun would rise, someone would be blamed for leaving a light on, and it wouldn’t be CEO Perkins.

  “Idiot,” she said thro
ugh gritted teeth.

  Slowly she walked down the long corridor, pushing her trolley, gripping the handle like it was a shield in disguise and one magic word would cause it to spring to her defense. The more she walked, the longer the corridor felt. Eventually, she reached the end and stood in front of the door to CEO Perkins’s forbidden office. Lee put her ear against the dark wood, half hoping to hear sound inside so she could run away.

  Silence.

  “Sugar,” she hissed. Leaving the trolley of supplies to one side, she knocked. No answer. She lowered a hand on the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. It turned easily and the door eased open on well-oiled hinges. She peered in.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she cussed, staring at the bright floor lamp tucked into a corner of the room. “And it has to be in the farthest corner, of course.”

  It was a very large office. Donut Delight, Chan’s Chinese Chow and both their kitchens could’ve fit into the space. There wasn’t a lot of furniture or ornaments, but each item there was obviously the best and most expensive version. Everything was in black, silver or grey, with splashes of red and yellow. In the corner to her left was a ceramic vase with delicate Chinese patterns painted on it in black. It was tall and stood on a short, intricately carved wooden stand that clearly boasted, ‘This is an expensive and valuable item.’ A porcelain statue of a red and black dog stood guard in the corner to her right. There were a few such pieces scattered around the room, turning the office into a mini museum.

  She didn’t pause to enjoy the effect.

  The only non-elegant exceptions were two metal items near the corner to her right. One was a lockable filing cabinet that looked like it could withstand a nuclear blast. The other, the one closest to her, was a garbage can. The can was large enough to swallow her. True, Lee wasn’t very big to begin with, but still, it was a sizeable garbage can.

  “Weird,” she breathed out. After telling herself several times that there wasn’t anyone else there, she took a deep breath and stepped inside, tensing in anticipation of an alarm. The sensor lights twitched on. But the silence remained silent. She took another step, then another. She didn’t look around, just kept her eyes focused on her goal. It was only when she was almost at the other end of the room, close to the lamp, that she realised two things with great clarity.

  First was the smell. She knew that smell, even without looking towards the source. She looked anyways. On a coffee table near the lamp were several cardboard cartons of Chan’s Chinese Chow. The red, three C logo was clearly stamped on each carton. Inadvertently she tiptoed closer. Two of the cartons were empty, but the other three still had food in them. Something about that didn’t make sense, but before she could dwell on it further, her left elbow started to itch.

  That’s when she realised the second thing.

  She was not alone.

  Motion made her glance upward. Something squirmed in the corner above the lamp. It stretched up the wall until it was almost touching the ceiling with its tentacle-like limbs. The shadow silhouette flicked its arms and did a cockroach-squirmy thing.

  Forgetting the lamp and her retirement bonus, Lee frantically stumbled backwards, towards where she thought the door was, her gaze fixated on the shadow. It was clearly humanoid but still reminded her of a really big cockroach.

  “Just stay there, ugly cockroach-shadow thing,” she whispered, reaching a hand behind her for the door. Instead, she smacked the back of one knee into a low ornamental side table.

  She hissed and cussed softly as she tripped backwards and bumped into the metal garbage can. The can tipped over with a metallic crash, spilling its contents over the floor. The lid went rolling away towards the filing cabinet, but before it reached there, it knocked into the porcelain dog. The statue quivered on its expensive and intricately carved base and then gracefully slipped to the side and smacked against the wall; one of its ears crunched and dissolved into porcelain dust. The lid thudded against the cabinet with a metal ‘ping’ sound and clattered onto the floor.

  For a brief moment, everything was still and quiet. Even the shadow seemed shocked into stillness. Lee opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything strong enough. So she kept quiet as she surveyed the disaster zone.

  Once she’d finished surveying, Lee looked around for the shadow, but it had crawled back to its corner near the food and under the lamp. She squatted beside the overturned can and almost cried. Scattered onto the floor were at least two-dozen cartons from Chan’s.

  “Bloody hell!” She eyed at the mess and then muttered, “At least they’re empty.” She didn’t stop to consider the oddity of so many empty Chinese takeout cartons in one man’s office, especially CEO Perkins’s office. There wasn’t time to think. Yanking her plastic gloves farther up her arm and breathing through her mouth, she began stuffing the garbage back into the can. She noticed the dog statue and paused to swivel it slightly, so that its crushed ear wasn’t visible.

  As she cleaned up, she kept checking on the shadow, but it was sticking to its corner of the office. What were the odds, she wondered, of finding a fourth one of those things in the space of two nights? She was still mulling over this and was about half way through cleaning up when she heard voices. It sounded like two men on the other end of the hallway. The shadow popped up at the sound and was twisting and twirling and doing a hula-hoop dance, minus the hula-hoop.

  The voices began to drift nearer. She shoved the last cartons in, forgetting to hold her breath and wishing she hadn’t. She heaved at the can and pulled it upright with a grunt.

  The voices were almost outside the office door.

  Lee stooped to pick up the lid and almost dropped it on the dog.

  “You’re sure he didn’t know?” a voice demanded, suddenly very loud. The doorknob started to turn.

  Lee slipped the lid on, hoping only she could hear the metal ting it made.

  “Pretty sure, boss.”

  “Pretty sure isn’t sure enough,” the boss voice said. The doorknob turned all the way. “What about the other issue?”

  Lee stared around, wondering where to hide. Her options were limited. Like I mentioned earlier, the furnishing was pretty sparse. Expensive, but sparse. There was no cupboard to climb into, and the black suede sofa in the room had legs a foot tall, so she’d be visible if she hid behind it. As far as she could tell, she had only one option.

  It was a thoroughly stinky option.

  She took a deep breath, as if she was about to do some cliff diving in her janitor overalls and plastic gloves, and removed the garbage lid. Why anyone would need such a big garbage can in their office was beyond her, but she didn’t stand around thinking about it. Using the ornamental side table to boost herself up, she swung a leg into the can and then the other. Cartons crumpled underneath her as she lowered herself into a huddle and slid the lid back on.

  Two men entered the room.

  “Taken care of.”

  “I don’t want to have to clean up your mess again,” said the muffled boss voice. The way he spoke, it sounded like a threat. It also sounded like CEO Perkins.

  Lee plugged her nose hard and tried not to breathe. Even still, the stench of wet metallic rust, mouldy rice, rotting meat and sweet and sour sauce coated her tongue. She clung to the image of the hot shower she’d have later on in her sparkling clean bathroom.

  “No worries, boss. The clean up’s been done.”

  “Talk about cleaning up, I told you to remove the garbage can. Why is it still here?”

  “Don’t know, boss. You want me to do it now?” The voice approached the can as it spoke.

  “Do it on your own time,” CEO Perkins snarled. “And what about that other item? Did you find it?”

  No response.

  “Your silence is not reassuring. So what you’re really saying is that it’s not completely done?”

  Papers rustled, the corner lamp was switched off, and the two men left the office. The door closed softly and the lock clicked into place. The rest of
the conversation blurred into a garbled noise that drifted into silence. A minute later, the sensor lights shut down.

  Lee poked up the lid and peered around. The room was dark, quiet and smelled of Chinese food.

  “I’m never getting Chinese food again,” she groaned.

  Deathmarks

  This time, we didn’t fly back. It turned out Bob, in addition to having a gentleman’s command of the English language, also had an unconquerable terror of heights. So we floated along a safe hand’s width above the slick pavement. The rain had returned, drifting down in a drizzle, coating everything with a silver sheen.

  Above us, the flying ghosts lit up the sky as they popped in and out of view, dancing over buildings, zipping down occasionally before darting away.

  “What are they?” I whispered. They didn’t seem like us, earthbound and dim.

  Shadow scowled. “Free spirits. Those who went through the tunnel.”

  “So that’s what we’re missing out on,” I mused.

  Shadow shrugged, Timmy grunted and Bob… well, he just shuffled on, as did the conversation. For the first time since my death, I started to enjoy myself. I was hanging out with a group of guys (even if they were ghosts) who didn’t want to sue me, kill me or make me clean their toilets. It reminded me of another time, another place, when I walked through the streets with a circle of comrades, unafraid of the night.

  We were about half way back when Faye zoomed up, interrupting Bob’s story about meeting a sheik who had a thing for ice sculptures.

  “What’re you doing here?” I demanded.

  “I missed you too,” Faye cooed. “DD asked me to make sure you didn’t get lost this time, sugar.”

  “Meaning you were driving her crazy and she kicked you out.”

  Faye winked and giggled. “Same thing. I’m here to guide you home.”

  “Lucky us,” Shadow murmured in a snarky tone.

  “I like your new friends, Axe,” Faye gushed, fluttering her eyelashes at Shadow, who ignored her. “Who’s Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome?”