At Witt's End (8 page)

"Yes,” Tim cried dropping to his knees. The twelve-year-old rocked in place, sobs pulsing through his body. “I'm dead and I didn't go through the light with Mom and Dad."

"What?” Aanders bent down to look under the table toward Tim.

"I'm dead. I died in the car with Mom and Dad. We were murdered."

"Murdered? You weren't murdered. It was an accident.” Aanders pointed toward the heavy steel door. “Your mom and dad are over there in cold storage. But what do you mean you didn't go through the light?"

"I was held back.” Tim hugged his arms to his chest and looked up at his friend. “I need to find a way to go back through the light so I can be with Mom and Dad."

Aanders looked back at his friend's body on the embalming table and then at Tim crouched on the floor. “This can't be real. Wait till I tell Mom."

Sniffling, Tim scooted over to the wall. “You're not going to believe any of this, but boy do I have a lot to tell you. It's just like one of them scary movies."

Aanders backed away from Tim.

"Don't be afraid,” Tim said. “Even though I'm dead, I'm still your best friend. Nothing bad will happen if you still like me."

Scowling, Aanders drew closer to Tim. He made sure he left a four-foot span between them.

Tim held his arm out. “Touch me."

"No way.” Aanders leaned away from the outstretched hand. “I'm not going to touch a dead person who's talking to me."

"Why not? It's no different than those bodies your mom prepped last week. It'll feel just like that.” Tim lunged forward and placed his hand on Aanders bare arm.

Aanders jerked his arm away. “Don't do that. Your hand's as cold as snow.” Looking from Tim to the body on the embalming table, he said, “Quit scaring me.” Aanders squared his shoulders. “I don't have to stay here and be your friend if I don't want to. I might take Belly upstairs and watch TV."

"Please don't go,” Tim said. “I wanted you to touch me so you'd believe what I have to tell you."

Aanders appeared to look straight ahead into the darkness, but scrutinized his friend's every move out of the corner of his eye. He slowly unfolded his fists and inched his fingers across the span. He stopped when his finger butted up against Tim's hand. Mustering the courage to continue, he placed his hand on top of Tim's hand. “Wow. You feel just like that old man that got his leg caught under the mower and died in his yard. Remember that?” Aanders rubbed his index finger on the back of Tim's arm. “Mom says a dead person's skin is clammy. You're clammy, all right."

Tim felt Aanders’ arm and then his own. “You're right. I am."

Aanders settled back against the wall, this time closer to his friend. “I guess that means you're dead."

"I already told you that.” Tim watched Belly plop down between them and roll onto his side with a muffled grunt. He kneaded his fingers through Belly's coarse hair as he drifted off in thought.

Aanders hugged his knees to his chest and took advantage of the reprieve to contemplate this new revelation.

"The stuff I'm going to tell you will freak you out.” Tim rose to his knees and faced his friend. “It's freaky that I'm dead and at the same time I'm talking to you. But what's freakier is you can see me. You don't realize what that means.” Bouncing on his knees toward his friend, Tim added, “Man, are you in for a shock."

"You already said that. Nothing can shock more than a dead person talking to me. So what's the big deal?"

"Don't you think it's weird you're talking to a dead person?"

"Yaaahhh.” Aanders rolled his eyes. Tim was his best friend, but he had a way of going on and on without ever getting to the point. “It's weird all right.” His gaze shot toward his friend as he gasped, “Don't tell me I'm dead, too!"

"I never thought of that,” Tim said. He took Aanders hand and ran his fingers over it. “Nope. You're not dead. Your hand is warm."

Belly snorted to remind the boys he was in attendance. He rolled onto his back. His left leg twitched as he wriggled back and forth, trying to find a comfortable spot on the tile floor.

Aanders pulled the dog near and rubbed his cheek over Belly's head. “You were trying to tell me he was down here, weren't you?” Tears brimmed in Aanders’ eyes as he looked at his friend. “What am I supposed to do now?"

"Because I'm a crosser or because you're a death coach?"

"Because you're my friend and now you're dead. Who am I going to do things with? I don't want a new best friend. I want you to be my friend."

Tim and Aanders had become fast friends when they sat next to one another in kindergarten. Tim's Mom had been supportive of the friendship and encouraged Tim to include Aanders in their family outings after Aanders’ father had abandoned his responsibilities. Other mothers had not been as supportive. They discouraged their sons from forming a relationship with the son of a mortician. Their whispered reasons included the mortuary being an improper place to entertain friends, or the fact that it was unnatural for a woman to ask her son to help with funeral preparations. Aanders childhood inched along a steep incline.

Tim leaned his head against the wall and looked at Aanders. “That probably won't matter once you hear what death coaches do."

"You keep saying that. What's a death coach?"

Aanders scowled as Tim finished explaining what he had learned during Sadie's round table sessions. “How do you know all this stuff?"

"I told you. I learned it from Sadie. She explains it after we come back."

"Come back from where?"

"The nursing home or the hospital. She takes us there in the morning and picks us up before supper. We're supposed to seek out the dying so we can cross back over with them. But first we have to make a death decision."

"You believed her?” Aanders said. “Everyone knows she's crazy. At least that's what they say.” He paused. “Everyone except Mom. She thinks Sadie's a nice old lady."

"I knew you wouldn't believe me.” Tim hugged his knees and rested his chin on one knee. “It's so freaky I didn't believe it at first, either. If you come to Cabin 14, you'll see all the crossers. There are five of us living there."

"Five dead people?” Aanders said with a gasp.

"Yes. There's a man in a suit who has a briefcase he won't let anyone touch. And there's a mom and a boy there too. The mom sits and cries all the time. She gets on everyone's nerves."

"What about the fifth dead person,” Aanders said.

"That's Rodney. He's mean. I'm afraid of him, but I don't think the guy in the suit is. The guy in the suit talks funny."

"Like how?"

"I don't know how to explain it. He sounds kinda like the President when he's talking about important stuff on TV. You know. He uses big words."

"Does Rodney punch the other dead people?"

"Sadie won't let him,” Tim answered.

Aanders struggled to grasp the information Tim had shared. “Can Mom see the crossers?"

"No. She's not a death coach. Sadie told us only death coaches can see crossers."

"That makes Sadie a babysitter for dead people.” Aanders watched Belly paw at Tim to get his attention. “But Belly can see you. Is he a death coach?"

"There's so much to remember, I forgot to tell you about Belly.” Tim picked at the four black hairs on Belly's tail. “Animals and death coaches can see the dead."

A sly grin formed as Tim said, “Man, is Sadie going to be surprised when she finds out you can see them, too. She told us there weren't any other death coaches in this part of Minnesota."

"I'm not going to her cabin. I don't want to be a death coach.” Straightening his back, Aanders said, “I'm not going anywhere to be with a bunch of dead people."

"Well I'm dead and you're with me. And you've got dead people in your house all the time."

"That's different."

"No it's not. What's the big deal? You don't need to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid.” Aanders’ shout echoed through the embalming room.

"You are, too. If you won't go with me, then you're a big chicken."

Belly stirred at the outcry and thumped his tail vigorously against the floor.

"I'm not a chicken,” Aanders said, cupping Belly's face in his hands. He pressed his nose against the dog's forehead.

"Then prove it."

As intriguing as the challenge was, Aanders felt his throat fill with acid. Over the years he had listened to rumors of Sadie's imaginary friends and had witnessed her waving her hands and talking into the wind as she stood on her porch. Now he understood why. He was cursed with the same powers. Sadie might be their babysitter, but he refused to take care of dead people.

Aanders pulled at his shoelace and flicked at Belly's ear with the stiff end of the lace. “Do you really have to make a death decision?” Gazing at Tim out of the corner of his eye he saw him nod.

"I either have to go back through the light or go to the parallel world. I don't want to leave you, but I have to find Mom and Dad. They'll miss me if I go to the other place."

"But they're in cold storage over there,” Aanders said, pointing toward the walk-in cooler.

Tim sat with his legs straight and tapped his feet together. “That's just their bodies. Mom and Dad aren't in those bodies anymore. Their spirits went through the light when they died. I saw it happen.” His body vibrated in rhythm with the tapping of his toes.

"You couldn't stay with me instead, could you?” A tinge of hope flickered across Aanders’ face.

"No. Sadie said I don't have a choice. If I don't go through the light within thirty days, I'll fade away all together."

"Like a ghost?"

"I don't think so. Sadie said it meant I'd disappear into the air like campfire smoke. I'd never see my parents again."

Aanders swiped at a tear as it rolled down his cheek.

"I'm going to miss you, Aanders.” Tim rested his hand on Belly's back and edged it toward Aanders until their hands touched. A sob escaped as Tim hid his face against his knees.

"Me, too. I still can't believe you're going to be gone for real."

"Me neither,” Tim said, wiping his cheeks across the denim covering his knees. “We can still be together until I have to go."

"Really?"

"I bet you didn't know I slept in your room last night."

Aanders felt the hair rise on his neck as he stared at his friend. “In my bedroom?"

"Yes. And guess what. I saw your mom in her underwear when she came out of the bathroom."

"For real?” Aanders said.

"For real."

Both boys leaned their heads against the wall to contemplate the past few minutes. Grunts from the obese dog drew the lads from their thoughts as Belly struggled to get to his feet.

"Don't you wonder what the other world would be like? If you decided to go there, I could go there when I die, too."

Tim paused before he answered. “No. I think I better find Mom and Dad. I don't want them to get lonesome."

"Maybe they're already in the other world. Maybe you should go there to find out."

"No, they're not. Sadie said only those who are held back from going through the light can go to the parallel world."

Aanders weighed Tim's answer. “You told me you had unfinished business. What kind of unfinished business would a kid have?"

"I wondered the same thing at first. I wasn't in business like my dad, but after I listened to the other crossers sort things out, I know why."

Both boys turned toward the sound of the hearse bay door rising.

"Mom's back,” Aanders whispered.

"Be quiet and she won't know you're here,” Tim said.

"She'll think we're crazy sitting on the floor in the dark."

Tim smiled. “She'll think you're crazy because she won't see me."

Footsteps shuffled past the door. Aanders held his breath. He listened to the sound of her shoes against the treads while she climbed and closed the door behind her.

Aanders exhaled, then he grasped the stainless steel counter. “I'd better get up there. She'll be looking for me.” Before Aanders left the room, he turned back toward Tim. “What was your unfinished business?"

"I already told you. We were murdered. I saw something right before the car rolled over and I think I know who did it. But because I can't go to the sheriff, you've the only one who can help me prove it."

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Mr. Bakke lifted the deceased man's shoulders while Nan slid an adjustment block under him to incline the body for better drainage. The elderly gentleman removed several tools from the drawer and placed them in a stainless steel tray.

"Looks good,” Nan said. She checked the entrance incision for the embalming tube. She reached up and moved the overhead light into position before inserting the arterial tubing. Nodding toward Richard Fossum, she said, “His sister called this morning. She'll deliver the clothing for the family tomorrow afternoon."

Nan removed the cap from a jug of embalming fluid. “I can't imagine what Richard's sister is going through losing three loved ones at the same time."

"It's going to be one humdinger of a funeral.” Mr. Bakke raised his eyes to meet Nan's.

"I've been so busy, I can't remember if I asked you to assist with the wake as well as the funeral. If I didn't, I apologize. I don't mean to take you for granted.” Nan reached for a scissors and snipped the plastic tubing at an angle to accommodate the end of the pump's nozzle. “I'm glad Richard's sister agreed to one funeral rather than three separate ceremonies. I agree with her. It's easier for everyone to come together all at once. Some of their family's coming from quite a distance."

Mr. Bakke patted Nan's hand. “You did ask for my help and I'll be here. Jane sent my suit to the cleaners, so I should be good to go."

The embalming room door swung wide as Belly butted it with his head. He crossed the floor, with his nose skimming the tile. The dog snorted a wet spatter against Mr. Bakke's sandals before inspecting the far corners of the room.

"That dog seems to know how to get in when there's no possible way,” Nan said. “Aanders must have left the door open again."

Belly made one final turn around the room before clacking his nails across the tile floor and grunting his way up the stairs.