Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ A Touch of Death ❯ Chapter 2

WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS: These are all fictional characters and any similarities to anyone living or dead is completely incidental. And anyway, I'm not making any money off of this.

 

This is my NanoWriMo piece, which I managed to turn out in half the time allotted. If you don't know what Nano is, check out www.nanowrimo.org for information and a chance at a really good time.

 

“Ms. Anderson,” Erec called.

Kathryn glanced over her shoulder back into Erec's office, suddenly wishing that she could just duck back inside. It wasn't necessarily comfortable, but at least she had a distraction that kept her from really thinking about what was happening. Her eye twitched its way up to Erec; the man was too obnoxious to give her enough silence to roll around in her thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” Ms. Anderson said, a look of dread on her face as she stared at her employer.

Erec chuckled quietly.

“Do me a favor and keep Kathryn entertained while I make a few phone calls.”

Ms. Anderson's face tightened a little.

“Kathryn?”

Kathryn frowned and Erec gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Concentrate,” Erec said. “She's standing right here.”

Kathryn watched as the secretary took a deep breath, her eyes seeming to go out of focus for a second before something snapped across them. They widened in surprise and then Ms. Anderson swallowed nervously.

“See?” Erec said smugly. “There you go. Just keep her occupied for about an hour or so while I call around.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ms. Anderson said thinly.

“Hi,” Kathryn answered.

“Have fun,” Erec called and propelled Kathryn out into the waiting room.

Kathryn pin wheeled to a halt, the secretary quickly darting out of her way and then giving her a wary look.

“Look, I know he said to `entertain' you,” she said tiredly. “But I'm very busy, whether he thinks so or not, so just have a seat and try to wait patiently until he's ready for you.”

Kathryn stared at her and then glanced around the quietly clean little room. A few of the people who had been waiting when she'd first arrived were still there, and a handful of new faces had joined them.

“Sure,” Kathryn said.

“Thank you,” Ms. Anderson said with the polite dismissal that can only be mastered by a very chosen few.

Kathryn smiled wanly and flexed her hands. She sat down carefully on one of the thinly cushioned couches and absently rubbed her fingers up and down her knees. Ms. Anderson returned to her desk and her fingers were now noisily clattering over a carefully placed keyboard. Kathryn sighed and looked around the office. No magazines, no newspapers, no nothing to keep her occupied. Great.

“How long have you been waiting?” one man said to a dark haired woman to Kathryn's left.

“Three hours,” she answered sourly. “I don't know how he can get away with this.”

“Only game in town,” another man said. “Presto's and Kaalidan's both closed down last month.”

“This place never has a money problem,” the woman snipped. “He charges enough to keep himself in some pretty damned fine comfort.”

“Yeah,” the other man said with a chuckle. “But you get what you pay for.”

“What exactly are you paying for?” Kathryn asked.

“You ever go into Presto's?” the man continued. “Worst selection I've ever seen.”

“No wonder he went under,” the other man agreed.

“Worst selection of what?” Kathryn asked, clearing her throat and speaking a little louder.

“Still,” the dark haired woman said primly. “He kept his appointments.”

Kathryn's mouth opened and her brows furrowed together with confusion. She lifted one hand and purposefully spread it against the slick glass coffee table in front of her. The glass felt cool against her skin and when she pressed down, she could see her knuckles whitening a little. Form, she definitely had it. But then, that didn't explain just why—

Her thoughts were cut off by a loud jangle as the door slammed sharply open. A dowdy little man in a tweed jacket stormed inside and pounded both hands down on the thin counter separating Ms. Anderson from the waiting area.

“Where is he?” he snapped.

“Ah, Mr. Tate,” the secretary said with a purposefully vapid smile. “What can I do for you today?”

“You can't do anything,” the balding man said angrily. “Where is Cinna?”

“I'm afraid he's handling an emergency that's come up,” Ms. Anderson said placidly. “I could schedule an appointment for you later this week.”

“I need to see him now,” Mr. Tate growled. “He and I have an agreement.”

“He has an agreement with practically everyone in this room,” the dark haired woman said with an irritated sigh. “You're just going to have to wait like the rest of us.”

Beady eyes shot back to pan warningly over the gathering of chairs and then the little man spun on Ms. Anderson again.

“That is unacceptable,” he hissed. “You tell him I'm here and I'm waiting.”

Ms. Anderson's smile never wavered and she nodded dully.

“Of course, have a seat and I'll let him know.”

Tate's eyes twitched darkly but he turned and stalked across the waiting room. Kathryn watched him approach with the kind of amusement that is always tangled up with tangy pity. Then her small smile faded into a frown as her eyes widened. Mr. Tate turned around and sat on her.

Kathryn yelped with surprise and sprang out of the chair and up around the squat man. He grunted and wrapped both fingers around the chair, grinding down into it and giving a dirty look down at it. Kathryn scowled and rubbed her shirt flat.

“What the hell?” she snapped. “Watch what you're doing!”

“He can't see you,” Ms. Anderson said.

Kathryn glanced over at her and Ms. Anderson sighed.

“He can't see you at all.”

“I'll wait until he can,” Mr. Tate answered in a nasally annoyed voice.

The secretary's mouth opened to respond and then just shifted into a disinterested smile.

“Of course, sir,” she said and subtly jerked her head a little.

Kathryn frowned and slowly crossed the office, still pausing a few times to rub her hands over things. She could feel. She was real. She had a…what had Erec called it? A corporeal form. She leaned against Ms. Anderson's desk and the woman discreetly held up a file folder to mask her mouth.

“They can't see you,” Ms. Anderson mumbled. “You're dead.”

“I know that,” Kathryn answered, for some reason mimicking the quiet tone. “Your boss made that very clear. But he said that here I have form. I can touch things and I sure as hell felt it when that ass sat on me.”

Ms. Anderson smiled thinly, the first real smile Kathryn had seen on her and shook her head.

“Yes, you have form here,” she agreed. “But there are certain rules that don't get broken. You don't have the power to make them see you, at least not yet. You're dead, and the dead don't mix well with the living. So until you get stronger, unless they want to see you, they won't.”

Ms. Anderson sighed then and shook her head.

“And believe me, most people really don't want to see the dead.”

 

***

 

“I don't do apprentices.”

Kathryn stared up. She knew she was gawking, complete with wide open mouth, but she couldn't seem to make herself stop. The guy was built like a damned mountain. He towered over Erec and seemed wide enough that she had no idea how he'd managed to get through any of Elixir Design's doorways. She frowned; she had no idea how someone his size could have gotten past her without her noticing. And the man didn't move, she was sure of that. He shambled, he stumbled, he avalanched his way in, but he didn't do something as graceful as move. Stubbly brown hair ran over his head and down across his chin, a pair of bloodshot blue eyes staring at her with decided disinterest.

“She's not really an apprentice,” Erec said. “She's more of an in-betweener.”

Those tiny eyes twitched at that a little and Kathryn almost felt a spark of curiosity in them. Then they rolled away from her like two glaciers and somehow managed to stumble onto Erec.

“And?”

“She needs some work,” Erec said. “Just a little job. Something easy to help pass the time.”

“And you thought of me?”

“Ah, ah, don't get in a twist about it. I need a professional to keep an eye on her,” Erec explained with a shrug.

“I don't do in-betweeners.”

“Slate, she needs a job.”

Slate. That was an appropriate name. Kathryn kept staring and watched with fascination as one ham sized hand (and here she always thought that had been an exaggeration of a description) lifted to wipe across the man's lips.

“Don't care,” the massive man said. “Got business enough to handle. I don't need to baby-sit.”

“Hey,” Kathryn said sharply. “I'm looking to work, as in pull my own way. I don't need you looking after me.”

Slate's eyes rumbled back to her.

“Uh-huh.”

Kathryn wondered just when she'd become such a violent person, because suddenly she wanted to smack the man in the back of the head. It must be death. Or getting hit by a car. Or having to spend any amount of time with Erec.

“Anyway,” Erec said cheerfully. “This isn't really a request.”

Slate stiffened then and his beady eyes actually managed to narrow as they slugged back to Erec.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning…whatever,” Erec said with a shrug. “Just think of her as another job.”

“I don't need more work.”

“Well, no one really does,” Erec laughed. “Kathryn, would you step outside a moment?”

Kathryn frowned, but he just gave her another of his vacuously cheerful smiles and left no room for her to argue. She shook her head and irritably crossed the office, fully intending to slam the door behind her, but never quite getting to it. Rose Marie was standing outside.

An ornate tea service tray was clutched in her hands, her vacant eyes now gliding up to lock on Kathryn.

“Coffee,” the girl said and held the tray out.

“Er, thank you,” Kathryn answered and gingerly took the silver tray.

Rose Marie's hands dropped limply back to her sides. And that was the girl's last movement. She just stood there, staring dully up at Kathryn and blankly blocking out the rest of the world. Somehow, Kathryn got the impression that this was normal for girl, and she uncomfortably tried to think of some way to carefully dart around her. The cups rattled warningly and Kathryn ground her teeth together. She looked down at the graceful curves of metal and china she held and then nervously glanced around for some place to set it down.

“It won't break,” Rose Marie said.

Kathryn's eyes darted back to her and then the girl was pulling the tray out of her hands.

“Wait--”

“See?” Rose Marie said and let go of the tray.

A clatter of china and metal filled the air, the tray slamming down onto the thick marble and sending shards of cups and plates scattering over it. Confusion pierced the blank look on Rose Marie's face and startled cry escaped Kathryn. Coffee spattered up over the loose dress slacks she wore and soaked all the way through her socks. A grimace covered her face as she realized that Rose Marie had been coming to serve them cold coffee. How long had the girl simply been standing outside of Erec's office? Ms. Anderson sped from around the front desk, her severe face panning over them before locking on the mess on the floor.

“What happened?” she asked loudly.

“I didn't know it would break,” Rose Marie said and shook her head. “It barely got hit. It should have held up better. I would have.”

“Yes, I'm sure you would have,” Ms. Anderson said with a long suffering sigh. “Come here and let's get this cleaned up.”

Erec's door clicked open then, the hulking figure of Slate filling it as Erec peeked around him.

“Trouble?” he asked.

“Just a dropped tray,” Ms. Anderson said tiredly.

“Ah,” Erec said and grinned at Kathryn. “Well, it's all settled.”

One of his hands shot out to lightly tap Kathryn on the forehead, a startling bolt of something zapping down her spine at the light touch.

“And now you've been initiated,” Erec said with a serpent's smile.

Kathryn rubbed at her forehead and gave him a wary glare.

“Just what kind of job is this?” she asked.

“This and that,” Erec said dismissively. “You'll pick it up as you go along. We're big on on the job training around here.”

Kathryn's eyes narrowed further and Erec chuckled.

“Look, just be happy. You've got a job, that's a step away from spending time in hell. Now play nice with Slate.”

Kathryn's eyes slid up and up until they finally found the other man's face and he gave her an exasperated glare.

“I can't believe you're making me do this,” he grumbled.

“Really?” Erec mused. “I can't believe it took me this long to think of it.”

 

***

 

Kathryn wondered if the night was cool. She'd lingered as long as she could with one hand on Elixir Design, but there was only so far she could go before she had to stop touching it. And all the sensations that had been flowing through whatever she was now simply disappeared. She had never thought that every sense could be shut off so quickly.

“Where are we going?” Kathryn asked as she hurriedly jogged to Slate's side.

“North,” Slate said.

Kathryn tried to think of some answer or another question she could give to that, but Slate just seemed to radiate some wall of silence. Again, she couldn't help but compare him to some huge lump of stone. She sighed and they kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Kathryn watched the street signs brightly pass and the people who laughed or stalked past them as they walked. No one looked at her. Earlier that day, she never would have expected them to even give her a second glance, just to have their eyes absently glance across each other and then quickly part. In fact, if anyone had made eye contact that lingered longer than a split second, she would have immediately entertained thoughts of their being a psychopathic murdering necrophiliac rapist. Their eyes were just supposed to casually dart over each other, that was all the contact that was expected. But now, she couldn't even get that, and something like nervous sadness darted down her spine. She shook it off and firmed her jaw.

“How much farther are we going?”

“Airport,” Slate answered absently.

“What? That far? Why are we walking?”

“Can't take a cab,” Slate rumbled.

Kathryn's lips parted and then slid shut again. Could ghosts ride in cars?

 

***

 

The airport was bustling with the usual push of humanity that it always held. Kathryn couldn't help but try and step out of their way, wincing a little every time something passed senselessly through her. Slate was staring up at the outgoing flights board, and for some reason he was like a rock in the middle of a stream. No one touched him, instead they split carefully around him and then flowed back together. Kathryn doubted they even realized they were doing it. He was just a barren spot in the middle of the terminal that no one would walk through. She jumped out of the way of a businessman snapping into his cell phone and irritably made her way back to the big man's side.

“What are we doing here?”

“Just looking,” Slate muttered.

“For what?”

“I'll know it when I see it.”

Kathryn peered up at the boards and watched the flight numbers blink and shift across the board. People coming and going. Still living. Kathryn sighed and rubbed her hand over the back of her neck. Weren't the dead supposed to envy the living? She glanced around the airport; no this place wasn't really conducive to that. Poor flying bastards.

“There,” Slate said suddenly. “Let's go.”

He pushed out into the herds of people and Kathryn quickly attached herself to his wake, the people again parting almost naturally for him. He stalked towards security and Kathryn frowned with confusion when he joined the long line for the metal detectors.

“What are we doing?”

“We're getting on a plane,” Slate answered.

“Okay, but why the line? Can't we just walk right through it all?”

“Just wait,” he grunted.

Kathryn glanced around and they took two steps forward as the line slowly advanced.

“Um, Slate?”

“I'm trying to be fair about this,” Slate said. “These people have been waiting.”

Confusion flashed over Kathryn's face and she stared up at Slate as the big man shambled forward again.

“I don't get it.”

“You'll see,” Slate rumbled.

Security moved slowly. Zippers stretched and shoes were scanned. Plastic bottles were emptied and passengers were wanded at the slightest ping of the metal detectors. They were thorough and things barely moved. Kathryn sighed and boredly played with the bottom of her shirt. She was wearing loose grey slacks and a dark blue dress shirt, an outfit chosen that morning to impress a new client into giving her more free reign. It probably would have worked. She wondered if this was what she was going to be stuck with for the next forty-six years. Kathryn glanced at the stained raincoat and battered jeans Slate was wearing. What had Erec told her? It could be worse.

The line moved inexorably and unbelievably slowly onward.

“Why isn't anyone pushing forward to stand where we are?” Kathryn asked as she looked around. “Why are they all waiting?”

“Would you want to stand in the middle of us?” Slate said. “Just because people can't see us, that doesn't mean that they don't have some idea that something is there. You've seen it before and you'll see it again on the plane. There'll be seats for us, even if the flight is packed full, and no one will say a word about it.”

Kathryn started to ask what he meant, but they'd reached the front of the line and Slate was tiredly staring at the metal detectors.

“Here we go,” he muttered and guided her through.

Instantly, they all reacted. The alarms went off, the lights flickered dangerously, and smoke started filtering out from one of the security points on the end. Kathryn jumped in surprise and whipped her head around as metal security gates were quickly rolled into place. A huge groan of frustration and disappointment swelled from the crowd behind them and Kathryn couldn't help but wince a little.

“Whoa,” Kathryn said with surprise as the security personnel surged forward to check over the equipment. “What just--”

“We're going to miss our flight,” Slate said flatly and passed easily through the tangled mass of confused people.

Kathryn followed him speechlessly to one gate, the airline attendants now making a final boarding call. Slate lumbered down the long cold tunnel to the waiting plane. He looked around a little and then pushed his way down the aisle, everyone on the entire plane leaning away from him without ever really noticing what they were doing.

Kathryn frowned and watched as he somehow managed to settle all of his bulk comfortably into one seat at the back of the plane. His eyes lifted to her then and something glinted across them. It was that dull indifference, only now it was worse, and something about it made Kathryn shiver.

She pushed down after him and took the seat at his side, the big man strapping himself in and adjusting his seat a little. One hand shot out to hit the flight attendant summons and immediately a stewardess paused at their side.

“Vodka and coke,” Slate said.

Kathryn started to snort and then watched as something glazed passed over the young woman's eyes. She shook her head groggily and then blinked and stared at Slate.

“I'm sorry, sir,” she said. “Beverage service will begin after take off.”

Slate held up two crisp one hundred dollar bills.

“Vodka and coke,” he repeated. “Keep them coming.”

He spared a glance at Kathryn and sighed.

“For both of us.”

Another of those drunken blinks and the stewardess nodded.

“Of course, sir.”

She disappeared to the back of the plane and Kathryn twisted in her seat to watch the young woman pull out their drinks.

“She…saw you,” Kathryn said.

“Yeah. Look, just get started. It's better to start early,” Slate said.

“Early on what?” Kathryn asked distantly as she kept staring back at the stewardess.

Why wasn't the woman looking up? Kathryn wanted to make eye contact with her. She wanted one of those phony smiles that she was sure the woman was so good at giving. Anything dammit, to prove that this woman really saw them.

“Drinking.”

Kathryn turned to frown up at him, but Slate was just boredly staring forward. He held his hand out and the stewardess now quickly placed a drink in it, another materializing for Kathryn. She took it gingerly, half way expecting it to skitter through her fingers and spill all over her. Instead, the glass was temptingly cool and clinked ice against the plastic cup. She could smell the alcohol in it and she suddenly realized how badly she really did want a drink. Slate had already slammed his back and was signaling the stewardess to bring another round.

“How is this possible?” Kathryn said as she stared at the drink.

“You're really looking for something to make sense today? Just be glad and drink that up.”

The sound of the engines starting up burred through the air and Kathryn sipped a little at her drink as the last preparations were made.

“Buckle up,” Slate said and then looked back up at the stewardess. “Just bring us a couple of those little bottles to make it through the take off.”

For some reason, it was amazingly easy to already expect everyone to see through her and through Slate. The waiting room full of people all buzzing around for Erec and the sightless walk over had drilled it back into her. Despite the drink in her hand, she still expected them to be completely ignored. So it made Kathryn choke a little on her vodka when the stewardess obediently nodded.

“Yes, sir,” she answered vacantly.

Kathryn shook her head with disbelief.

“How are you doing that?” she hissed as the stewardess retreated to the back for their liquor.

“It's easy enough,” Slate said. “You'll pick it up.”

Kathryn took a drink and wrinkled her nose.

“It's strong.”

“Good.”

Kathryn frowned and fumbled a little with her seatbelt as the plane made its first lurch forward. Slate took the drink from her hand and the two mini bottles the stewardess produced.

“I'll be back around after take off,” she said with a smile.

Slate grunted something and spun off one of the little caps. He didn't even grimace as he poured the vodka down his throat, jamming Kathryn's cup back into her hands. Kathryn couldn't help but be a little impressed.

“So. What are we doing?” she asked.

“Getting drunk,” Slate answered. “As fast as possible.”

“Okay,” Kathryn said and swirled her drink a little. “Any particular reason?”

Slate sighed boredly.

“Trust me. You always want to be drunk for a plane crash.”

The world froze for an instant.

“What?” Kathryn breathed.

Slate took another drink and slumped back into his seat.

“It's just easier,” he muttered.

“We're…we're crashing a plane?” Kathryn whispered.

“We're crashing this plane,” Slate clarified.

“What? Why?”

“Don't know,” Slate said. “This was just the one.”

Kathryn's mouth worked nosily around the words she wanted to make, but nothing would come out. She shook her head finally and dug her fingers down into Slate's arm.

“What are you talking about?” she said.

Slate's eyes fuzzily moved to her, the alcohol he had slammed back now beginning to blur the edges of his pupils. He frowned, but his eyes still held that bored disinterest she'd seen the first time they met.

“Cinna didn't explain this to you?”

Kathryn silently shook her head. Slate sighed noisily and slumped down into his seat.

“Great. That just figures. Look, we're here to crash this plane. That's tonight's job.”

Kathryn's eyes widened and her drink tumbled to the ground as she grabbed his jacket collar and yanked him down.

“No. Way,” she hissed in his ear. “That's not going to happen.”

“Too late to stop it,” Slate said boredly.

“I'm not going to let you,” Kathryn said. “All these people--”

“Will live or die just like they're supposed to,” Slate said dully. “It's the way things go.”

“What did you do?” she breathed. “How are you going to do it?”

“I'm doing it right now,” Slate answered.

She stared at him in confusion and he sighed again.

“I'm a gremlin,” he said. “My just being on the plane is enough to make it crash.”