Ungrateful Dead Read Free Page A

her frustrations out on Charlie and me, or did she think we could do something for her?
    “So, Esther,” I said, kneeling to take some snaps of the drawer she’d opened into my knees. “What’s the deal? Are you taking revenge on the living?”
    The lights snapped on. I looked up to see Charlie staring at me, pale and sweaty. “Do you think she really is?” He hugged himself, shivering. “Do you think she blames us?”
    “Us?” I echoed. “I only just got here. You had her cremated.”
    The lights snapped off again and another drawer opened, clipping my shoulder and spinning me away. “Fucking hell.” I rubbed my shoulder. “What is her problem?”
    “Maybe she doesn’t like you talking about cremation?” Charlie offered.
    Another drawer flew open right on cue, this time without hitting me. The lights flicked back on, glowing on the waxy, blue-hued skin of the corpse in the drawer. I flinched, remembering Charlie’s tale of Esther possessing bodies. This guy didn’t look like he’d get far even if our ghost girl could move him – he’d obviously been in a car crash or something, body mangled and pulped – but Charlie’s story was a lot more believable now than it had been an hour ago. I could buy into possesion and ghosts right now.
    Funny how quickly you can be convinced in these circumstances.
    Charlie crept up behind me, footsteps echoing on the white tiles. He clutched my jacket sleeve. “I feel sick,” he whispered.
    So did I. I put that down to the corpse in front of me. Even if the damn thing wasn’t moving, it still wasn’t pretty. I went to kick the drawer shut. It jammed with a nasty scrape of metal and the body twitched. Charlie gasped and ducked behind me. The air filled with a sickly scent, like flowers and puke. The body twitched again, more definite this time. The toes wriggled, like the dead guy had cramps he was shaking off.
    And then it sat up.
    I won’t lie, I yelped. I didn’t scream , like Charlie, but I still let out a strangled yelp, all shocky and high-pitched. Charlie gripped me tight enough to hurt, his weight threatening to pull me over. I pushed him away, transfixed by the corpse sitting in front of me.
    He twisted his neck and stretched his jaw, like he was limbering up after a long sleep ... Well. Maybe that’s exactly what it was, when you think about it. It didn’t look real. His eyes were bloodshot, skin bloodless. He looked like a crappy, over-made-up corpse from a low budget B-movie. I chewed my lips, trying to think of something to say. Nothing witty came to mind, so I settled for, “holy shit,” which didn’t really seem adequate.
    “Esther,” Charlie whispered over my shoulder, “is that you?”
    The corpse’s jaw worked, but nothing came out except a nasty rasping sound. I held my breath, waiting for the vocal chords to kick in. Finally, in a voice like a forty-a-day smoker, the corpse spoke.
    “I shouldn’t be here.”
    It was definitely a guy’s voice but there was a weirdly feminine tone to it. Charlie’s fingers flexed on my arm, grinding through the leather. “Lady, I’ve been thinking the same thing all night,” I told the corpse. Now the inital fright of seeing the corpse rise had passed, the scene had become so fucking surreal, I didn’t feel scared anymore. I mean, sure, talking corpses. Why not? Ghosts. Why not? There were more things in heaven and all that shit, right?
    “I shouldn’t be here!” the corpse screamed, clenching his fists. “I’m twenty-five years old and I work in a fucking underwear store! I wanted to be a fashion designer!”
    The lights went on and off like an illegal rave, dazzling me. The temperature roared between so cold I couldn’t catch my breath and so hot I was sure I’d melt. Charlie clung to me like a drowing man, teeth chattering loudly. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he whimpered.
    “Look, Esther,” I said, shading my eyes. “It sucks that you died, I get that. And you know, condolences and