by Bones Monroe
Oliver saw Grace’s mistrust drawn plainly on her face.
“For pay of course. I would never think of having you help me for free. I think you’ll be quite happy with this job if you accept it.”
Now that was something that interested Grace. The chance to get out of the house and earn money at the same time? This was a win-win situation.
“What kind of job is this?” Ben asked.
“The best job in the world. Assistant to the friendly neighborhood ice cream man!” Oliver said gleefully.
Chapter 11
“This will be her first job?” Lamia asked Ben.
They were sitting in the deep gloom of her porch. Lamia had fetched two glasses of lemonade and they chatted it up as they sipped. Ben had been reluctant to drop by unannounced, but she was the only other person he knew in the neighborhood.
He nodded excitedly. “Yes, I think this will instill more responsibility in her. She’ll finally know the true value of money, and it’ll keep her out of trouble.”
“Boys?” she asked.
“How did you know? Is it that obvious?”
Lamia nodded, her eyes twinkling in the darkness. “Don’t you remember being a teenager? Hormones raging? That’s all they think about.”
“That’s exactly my concern. She’s not taking school seriously and there have been several breaches of trust between us. I’m hoping this job will straighten her out.”
“Are her grades falling?” Lamia asked.
“Not yet. She’s still in AP and honors but I don’t know for how long.”
“Loosen up, Ben, give her room to grow. She’s going to eventually fly the coop you know. Change is inevitable.”
“Not yet. I want her to be a success, not like the other kids she hangs out with. I’ve been trying to keep her at home to study but she sneaks out to spend time with those losers. No matter how much I punish her, she does it again,” he complained. Wisely, he omitted his distaste that the kids his daughter preferred were inhumans.
“You know Ben, you suffer from close-mindedness. It’s not fatal, but it makes you see the world through blinders. I think you’re missing out on just how good your daughter is. From what you tell me, she’s never really been in trouble, and she’s holding down some awesome grades. You’re waiting for the next shoe to drop but the first one is still on her foot,” Lamia scolded.
“It’s just that the world is so polarized now. Inhumans, humans, dolphin, orca, what side are you on?”
“We don’t have to worry about the dolphin faction just yet. They are piss poor on land, and their exoskeleton technology has a long way to go. But you are correct about the others. You can’t let that shut you in. It’ll be bad for you and your daughter.” Lamia fell silent for a second and then asked, “Would you like to have an open mind?”
“I have one.”
“No Ben, if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you don’t”
That barb stung. In a moment of self-realization, Ben admitted, “Ok, I don’t have one. I think it’ll do me good. But what can you do?”
“I’ve been around for a long time, child. There is an ancient ritual that will open your mind and allow you to see how things really are. I think this will help you, but be warned, the effects can be slightly overwhelming. When the ancient rituals are invoked, they cannot always be contained properly.”
Ben nodded slowly, thinking it over. He was tough on Grace, but he was so afraid. Having an open mind sounded like a good thing. Isn’t that what everyone wanted on the road to personal growth? It was a prerequisite for spiritual development, right? A shortcut on the long, arduous path to develop his awareness and maximize his potential. A quick way to enlightenment.
“I’ll do it. I think maybe this is why I am here. You know how some things were meant to be? I have a feeling I need to do this,” Ben said.
“I must prepare,” Lamia said mysteriously. She slowly got up with the help of her cane and left Ben to his own devices on the porch.
After a few minutes, Lamia’s soft voice floated through the door. “Come child.”
Ben had never been inside Lamia’s house. For the few days he had known her, she had always limited his access to the porch. He’d seen others visit with her on the porch and assumed the house was off limits. Her invitation to come inside made him feel special.
The room was larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. The room was still gloomy, but the darkness was marginally beaten back by several large candles sitting at precise places on the floor. The flickering flames made the shadows bounce and jump along the walls, giving the impression of faces leering at Ben.
In the middle of the room, he saw a pentagon outlined in chalk. A candle burned at each corner. A blood red wooden stool satin the center.
Lamia appeared out of nowhere, startling Ben. “Please step into the pentagram and take a seat.”
Ben looked around.
Lamia pointed to the stool. “There.”
“That’s a pentagon, not a pentagram.”
“Do not mock the ancient ones. The ritual calls for a pentagram, and that’s what is there.”
Ben counted the sides. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s a pentagon. It has—”
“ENOUGH! DO NOT MOCK THE ANCIENTS AND THEIR RITUALS!”
Lamia waved her hands in the air. “To have an open mind,” she said in a steely voice, “you must release the constraints language has placed on you! Do not question the Ancients! Step inside … the shape … and have reality revealed to you!”
Ben wisely kept his mouth shut even though he was positive that the meaning of pentagon had not changed in quite some time. Maybe the Ancient in charge of rituals had some kind of learning disability. Just because they’re Ancient doesn’t mean they were infallible. Could Ancients get dementia? Ben would have to ask Lamia later.
“There will be a series of trials. You must successfully pass each one to unlock the various layers blocking your inner vision. This is a pass or fail ritual, there is no curve and no make-ups given. This is your only chance.”
Ben began to sweat. No curve? he thought. That’s not fair. I wasn’t prepared for a test. Ben hoped that Lamia had office hours. He made it a point to talk to her about this ‘no curve’ thing should the ritual thing not work.
As soon as Ben stepped into the pentagram, Lamia began chanting. Her light, airy voice seemed to fill the room with a crackling energy.
She handed Ben a can opener and a can of condensed milk.
Ben stared at the items but quickly figured out what to do. He opened the can. He wasn’t sure what to do next, so he quaffed the contents. When he brought the can down, he saw Lamia staring at him in amazement.
“I wasn’t supposed to drink it?” he asked.
Lamia continued chanting but shook her head, incredulous.
“Do you have water? All that sugar …”
Lamia ignored him and continued chanting.
Ben’s leg bounced up and down excitedly. The sugar rush was influencing him. He was having a hard time sitting still. Shortly, he would start bouncing off the walls.
Lamia lifted the top of a brazier that Ben hadn’t noticed before. Inside, he saw the glowing red embers. She threw in two more items: a cheap golden doorknob and a corkscrew. They glowed red and melted. Ben swore he heard faint screams come from the bubbling metals.
Lamia’s chanting became insistent and louder. Ben felt like the words had a distinct weight to them. They pressed into his ears, settled on his chest. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Except for that time his elementary school bully sat on his chest until Ben gave up his lunch money. It kind of felt like that, but Ben had worked hard to repress those memories, so in effect, Ben had never felt anything like that before.
Lamia stepped close to Ben but remained outside the pentagram. He bounced on the stool, blaming his excitement on a sugar high. His mouth felt pasty, and he smacked his lips wishing for a drink of water.
As i
f reading his mind, Lamia tossed him a small plastic bottle. It bounced off his thigh, but in a stroke of luck, he grabbed the bottle mid-air before it rolled out of reach.
Ben inspected the label. The big yellow letters read: “Quick Nasal Decongestant”
Hmmmm, Ben thought. I detect a pattern.
Ben twisted the cap. It turned and clicked but did not open. He frowned and turned the cap the other way. It spun freely.
He looked closely at the cap and saw in tiny lettering, ‘Adult-proof cap for your protection’.
Ben groaned. He could never get these damn things open. He sank his teeth into the cap and tried biting it off, to no avail. He pressed down and twisted. That would have worked, but it was one of those new smart bottles, and the push-down twist method only worked for children.
Ben stood up and paced around his stool trying to figure out the stupid bottle. Why did it have to be so complicated? As he finished his first lap, he stepped on something. Something sharp and pointy.
The can opener.
Aha! Ben thought triumphantly.
He set the bottle on the stool and set to working it open with the can opener. This might not be the way the Ancients wanted someone to solve this trial, but then again, the Ancients probably didn’t have access to plastic smart bottles. Ben was sure that Lamia had taken a few liberties with the ritual. Maybe this was a curve, of sorts.
Ben finally pried the bottle cap open. As soon as the cap lifted, a clap of thunder filled the room. A cold wind blew (from where no one was ever able to tell), extinguishing the candles and leaving the room lit only by the glowing embers from the brazier.
Lamia’s chanting faded into silence.
“Is it over?” Ben asked.
Lamia nodded, wiping the sweat off her brow.
“I don’t feel any different. Did it work?”
Lamia shrugged. “I’m not the person that can tell you that. Only you can be the judge. The Ancients are powerful but fickle. Take it easy for the next few days.”
Lamia stumbled from the pentagon where she had been directing the action to her couch. “That was tiring. I must rest. Come back later.” She waved him away.
Ben walked back home thinking about the ritual. He looked up suddenly. Something was off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He spun around to look behind him, he was sure he was being watched. He leaned against a streetlamp and gazed up at the windows that loomed over him. He couldn’t see anyone, but instead of diminishing, the feeling of being spied upon got stronger.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw a few exanimates walking down the street. Could they be ghosts? Ben didn’t think so; ghosts never made him feel like this. The sensation was overpowering.
He darted into a Laundromat and crouched behind a row of combination washer/dryers. He realized he was holding his breath.
This is stupid, he thought. Why would someone be spying on me?
Ben got up and dusted himself off. He wasn’t dusty but he thought that was the most appropriate thing to do after crouching.
After composing himself, he gingerly stepped back onto the street. The feeling was gone. Breathing a sigh of relief, he continued on his way.
That afternoon, he tried talking to Grace. “Hey baby girl,” Ben said after knocking on Grace’s door.
“Yeah,” Grace said flatly, not turning away from the TV.
Ben opened the door even though his daughter hadn’t invited him into her room. He took one look at her expression and said, “I can tell you’re still upset.” he sat on her bed. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Grace hit the mute button on the remote and stared at him impassively.
“I know this move was an enormous change. I want you to know that this is only temporary. I want you to have the best and this,” he waved his hands around the apartment, “is very, very far from the best. But I’m looking for work. Well, this little chat isn’t about me, this is about you. Like I said, you’re a young lady now, and I think I’ll give you the freedom a girl your age needs. You’ve been keeping your grades up and that shows me you’re responsible enough to go out on your own … as long as you keep up your grades!” Ben wagged his finger at Grace.
She was shocked. “Where is my father and what have you done with him?” she said.
“Hardy har,” Ben said faking laughter. “Just that I was talking to Lamia, this woman I met who lives in our neighborhood. She’s been giving me some advice and that got me thinking. You’re getting older, and although we have had our trust issues, you’re now gainfully employed and it justifies more independence.”
Grace broke out in a half-smile like she wasn’t sure what she was hearing. “I like that Lamia lady. I don’t know what she did to you, but I’m going to thank her,” Grace said excitedly. She sat up to give him a hug.
When she pulled away, her smile turned into a frown. “What’s wrong?” she asked Ben when she saw him glance around the room and then at the ceiling. She followed his gaze but saw nothing.
“I don’t know. I’m just getting this strong feeling that we’re being watched.”
Grace pulled out her phone, launched the ghost detector app and swept the room. “The GhostDetect app says there are no ectoplasmic beings here and it doesn’t find any ectoplasm trails.” She looked up from her phone and said, “No ghosts here recently.”
Ben shook his head, his puzzled expression remaining. “I guess you’re right, but this is the second time I’ve had this feeling today. I must be stressed or something,” he said.
Chapter 12
Big day for Grace. The first day of her first job. She looked forward to entering the wonderful world of work.
The prospect made her both nervous and excited. She couldn’t stop thinking how great it would be to have money of her own to spend. But when she thought about her duties, she had a flutter of worry. Would they be complicated? How would she handle dealing with customers? What if they were mean? Would Oliver be a nice boss?
The questions swirled in her head, adding to her anxiety.
She dressed for the job she wanted, in jeans and a t-shirt, then locked up the apartment, braced herself for her commute: she walked next door and knocked on Oliver’s door.
Luckily, he didn’t make her wait too long. He opened the door and greeted her with a warm smile. She noticed that he was starting to rot a bit at the edges. She thought of her friend Ingrid. She and Oliver were birds of a feather. Grace had no idea how long he had been a zombie, but Oliver was the second-best looking zombie she had seen, probably because he took meticulous care of himself.
But she saw the tiny, telltale signs. A slight droop at the corner of his mouth. His movements although elegant were slow. That was an obvious side effect of atrophying joints.
He hadn’t said anything, so she opened the conversation.
“I like the way you’ve kept your appearance up. Not all necrotics look as good as you,” she said. She hoped to make a great first impression.
Oliver’s eyes took on a steely glint. His smile became forced. That slight droop at the corner of his mouth twitched.
“That … is an interesting greeting,” Oliver said levelly.
Ohhh no, Grace thought. She completely forgot that some zombies were very, very sensitive about their appearance. Now, I’ve completely messed things up. And I haven’t even started the job yet.
“Oliver. Sir, no. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that this is my first job and I saw the corner of your mouth—”
Oliver held up his hand, silencing her. “Stop while you’re ahead. Just stop. First off, I’m not a zombie. I’m a vampire. Been a vamp for more years than you can imagine. Sometimes, I don’t take care of … things. Humans take grooming for granted. I know I did when I was alive. You know what else I miss?” he asked.
Fearful of putting her foot in her mouth again, Grace kept quiet and just shook her head.
“Scratching. Yes, it’s true. You probably think it a nuisance, but right now, as you start
to focus on your left cheek, the sensitive hairs on your cheek want to be touched. They are crying for attention. Then, before you know it, there’s the slightest sensation there. There’s a tickle and you don’t know where it came from. You don’t care. You just know that you have to scratch. And when you do, just like that, you feel marvelous. You’re happy, your cheek is happy, your nerves are happy. It’s a moment of true harmony. Isn’t that right?”
Grace nodded while her hand moved down. She realized that she was scratching her cheek. It felt good.
“So, let’s let that comment go. We’ll forget all about it. I’ll just say you were too excited about your first job, ok? Oliver’s original warm smile returned.
“Yes, Yes! Thank you!” Grace gushed.
She followed Oliver down to his garage where he kept his ice cream truck. He opened the passenger door and held it for her as she got in and buckled her seat belt.
“Don’t worry,” he said, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You’ll get the hang of things pretty fast. You’ll learn as you go. And I’ll be right here,” he said starting the truck and pulling out into the street.
The ice cream truck was almost brand new and although small, it had enough room for Oliver and Grace to work, a classic with a window on the side for customers to walk up to the truck and order. Oliver was very understanding and nice to Grace, explaining what he was doing every step of the way.
The quality of the ice cream surprised Grace. She had thought Oliver bought different types of ice cream that he sold to his customers. That’s not how things worked at “Udderly Fabulous Ice Cream Truck.” The truck offered hand-churned ice cream in a variety of specialty flavors, each lovingly made by none other than Oliver himself. He rotated a selection of flavors that kept customers guessing and coming back each day to see the new treats on the menu.
Grace hadn’t expected such a thriving business. At each stop, a handful of adults and children usually waited to for the flavors of the day. When they got to Lincoln Road, a small area of North Wellon that was being developed into a nice walking mall with boutique shops (and the only area where there were other animates), a line a block long greeted them when they rolled up.