Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Can you believe it?” Jimbo Muller picked himself up off the cement cellar floor and staggered over to them as he brushed himself down.
“Whoo, adrenaline rush! I can’t believe I didn’t break my damn neck!
Embarrassing, right? Breaking my neck changing a lightbulb?
It was only a three-foot fall, Crissakes.
Goddamned shaky two-step ladder . . . the guys on my work crew woulda laughed themselves stupid.
” Muller blinked. “Who the hell are you two, and what are you doing in my basement?”
“I’ve got some crap news for you,” Amara said.
“Aw, man.” Muller ran his fingers through his short gray hair and sighed.
“Look, if it’s about my ex-wife, just tell her I’m still waiting on the bonus from my last job.
The guy promised it to me by Monday, and if he doesn’t bring it by, tell her I’ll personally make sure—huh.
” Muller looked at the sprawled figure on the floor, then at Amara, then at the sprawled figure on the floor. “Aw, shit. That’s me.”
“Yes.”
“Lying still on the floor.”
“Yes.”
“But also standing here talking to you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Can I ask you something?” Muller asked.
“Of course.”
“Why are you carrying a little garbage can?”
* * *
“Oh. Hi.” Beverly Lundergard struggled to sit up in bed, but was overtaken by a racking cough so deep and drawn out, it sounded like she was vomiting up a lung.
Her swollen face, with its unhealthy yellowish cast, got steadily darker as the coughing fit went on and on.
As Amara and Gray approached the bed, she waved them back, whooped for breath, and seized the nearly empty bottle of water which was, thank God, uncapped.
After a few gulps she lay back, letting out the occasional wet gasp. “Not too close,” she croaked, flapping a hand at them. “You two don’t wanna catch this.”
We two? The first time was odd. The second . . . well. She’d have to think about what that meant.
Gray cleared his throat. “We won’t catch your double pneumonia, ma’am.”
“Don’t take chances.” Beverly had to rest for a few seconds before she could finish.
“Not even a chance of a chance. This sucks; you’ve got no idea.
Sorry, I didn’t hear the doorbell. And I forgot to—” Another series of retching coughs; Beverly groped for the near-empty Kleenex box on the table beside her and hacked up a golf ball-sized lump of green phlegm streaked with blood.
“Forgot to lock the door,” she finished, dropping the befouled Kleenex into the overflowing wastebasket beside the bed. “Is that for me?”
Amara clutched her garbage can tighter. “No.”
“Okay. What can I do—” Another cough, and she gulped the last of the water with a wince. “For you two? My God, someone lined my throat with razor blades while I slept. Was it you guys? Better not have been.”
“Ms. Lundergard—”
“Bevvie. And whatever it is, I don’t need it and I’m not buying it. My roof is fine, my windows are fine, my car windshield is fine, I don’t need Girl Scout cookies, I don’t want to buy band candy, I hate my cell phone provider but they all suck anyway. Sorry you wasted a trip.”
“We didn’t.”
“Good for you, I guess.” Beverly closed her eyes for a second. “I am. So sick. Of being sick. Before you go, could one of you refill my water bottle? Sorry again about not being able to buy anything.”
Gray started to do it, but Amara put a hand on his arm and shook her head.
Bevvie pulled in a deep breath and her eyes popped open.
“Actually. Um, actually, I think that last bunch of coughs knocked more than phlegm loose. I feel . . .” She started to sit, waited for the bone-deep ache to steal her energy, the waves of dizziness that made even the thought of going to the bathroom beyond exhausting.
And the relentless tickle in her throat that would, soon enough, turn to a fishhook.
But it seemed she was getting a respite.
She tossed the covers aside and stood, feeling lighter and happier than she had in months.
“Wow! I really do think that did the trick. Holy shit, it’s like I got a jumbo shot of penicillin or something.
Can I get you two anything before you go?
I’ve got a fridge full of iced tea and a freezer full of pudding pops.
I know, not great, right? They’re the only things I’ve been able to keep down in forever but I’ll tell you what, kids, I could murder a stack of pancakes right now.
You guys want some pancakes? Will DoorDash bring pancakes? ”
“Probably, but no thank you.”
“God, I don’t know what I should do first, shower or eat.
” She looked down at herself and sniffed.
“I don’t actually stink, though. Or is it one of those things where you can’t smell your own bad smells, but everyone else can?
You kids would tell me if I stank, right?
” As Amara opened her mouth to reply, Bevvie rushed ahead: “I feel so good, you have no idea. Why are you here?”
Again, Amara began to answer just as Bevvie’s brow furrowed and she turned to look at the bed she never left.
“I look so . . . frail,” she said softly, gazing down at her wasted body, the puffy, waxy face, the sunken eyes. “And a little gross, to be frank.” She bent and sniffed. “And I do stink, apparently.” Then, to Amara, “I know who you are now. I can’t think why I didn’t recognize you earlier.”
“It happens that way sometimes,” she replied.
“I, ah, didn’t know you worked in pairs.”
“She doesn’t. I’m just shadowing her this weekend,” Gray said. “Part of the Death Lite Internship Program.”
“Good God, Gray.”
“So . . . what now?” Bevvie asked, and reached out as if she wanted to shake hands.
Amara took her hand and held it. “Now is when you find out what comes next, Bevvie.”
She smiled. “I feel great. I forgot what being healthy was like. Though I guess I’m not healthy.” She spared the corpse one more glance. “It’s weird I’m not scared, isn’t it?”
When neither replied to the rhetorical question, Bevvie squared her narrow shoulders. “Whatever’s next, it’s not a lonely, smelly sickbed with neighbors who slowly forget about you. So I guess we’d better get going.”
“It’s your journey, Bevvie. I’m just here to see you off.”
“I’m gonna meet the Almighty in my nightgown?” Bevvie looked down at herself with a shrug. “Well, He’s probably seen worse. Thank Christ I didn’t die in the bath.”
And then Bevvie Lundergard was giggling beside her sickbed, and her smiling eyes were the brightest things in the room.