The Road From Death Read online

  “This isn’t a game, you know,” Claire said. “Mrs. Robinson really is lost, and I’m worried about her. So if you aren’t going to help us, then you might as well be a murderer because Mrs. Robinson needs us and —”

  “I’m sorry,” Noah cut her off, his voice gentle but sure. “If you don’t see her now, then no amount of looking is going to help. But you should know that she is having a wonderful time, which means she didn’t suffer much. When animals have a painful death, they tend to mope around and complain for a good deal afterward.”

  “Can you really see spirits?” Samantha inquired.

  “It runs in the family,” Noah replied, a bit defensively. He cast a wary glance around as though worried he would be overheard. “Cats can too, you know. Whenever they’re fascinated by something you can’t see, you can be pretty sure there’s a spirit there. Dogs can’t of course—too many distractions in this world, I suppose. Most people can’t either, but people can’t see their own nose and that’s right in front of their face. Would either of you like a cup of hot cocoa?”

  Claire seriously considered her nose, judging the merit of this explanation. She didn’t seem satisfied.

  “Yes, please,” Samantha instantly replied. Standing, Noah offered a hand to help her over the rotten step. She chose to hop it on her own instead of accepting his assistance. “What does a spirit look like?” she pestered.

  “It looks like how Christmas feels,” Noah remarked instantly. “Would you take a cup as well, Claire? It’s the least I can do.”

  Claire had absolutely no desire to enter the crumbling house of the strange old man whose denial of being a murderer was dubious at best. Her ankle was starting to feel much better, and she could turn around right now and be back on the street to resume her search. To continue a seemingly endless search, ignoring her best clue which was the first person to have accurately described Mrs. Robinson.

  “It’s only polite,” Samantha said, her face refusing to match the gravity of the situation.

  “Oh, very well, but only if Mrs. Robinson can come too,” Claire relented.

  Noah crossed the porch and opened the door, and the two girls followed him, completely oblivious to Mrs. Robinson’s spirit which hopped up the stairs behind them. So too were they unaware of the gaunt stony creature sitting on the mailbox at the end of the driveway. They weren’t aware of the long, hooked claws on the end of its wings or its yellow lidless eyes which watched them enter. Noah’s gaze lingered on the creature for a moment, but he quickly averted his gaze as he smiled down at the girls who were walking past him into the house.

  “I just want you to know,” Samantha was saying to the old man, “that I will find out if you’re trying to play a trick on Claire. Then you really will be seeing spirits, because you’ll be one of them.”

  Noah chuckled and bowed low as he held the door open for the children. “I shall take your warning to heart and tread the line of truth with the utmost care.”

  That was good enough for Samantha, and so it was good enough for Claire as well.

  The interior of the house was in no better repair than the run-down front. The carpet was patchy and threadbare, and only occasional tufts of color hinted that it might have been red in a previous life. Splotches on the ceiling marked where water had once dripped through, and the sofa and chairs had stains on them in enough colors that it was difficult to determine which were part of the actual design.

  “We have visitors, Mandy,” Noah called softly upon entering. He held the door open for considerably longer than necessary, his eyes presumably following an invisible cat which was taking time deciding whether to follow. The children sat carefully on the couch as though expecting it to collapse as soon as they rested.

  “Hello, darlings.”

  The girls jumped, not having realized that Mandy had been sitting in the dark chair beside them this whole time. She looked to be in her thirties, wearing black all the way from her long brass-buttoned coat and her lacy blouse to her high leather boots. Her skin was as pale as a corpse, and the only color about her was the short golden hair which sprayed wildly from her head like a hose blocked by a thumb.

  “Claire, Samantha, this is my daughter Mandy,” Noah introduced the newcomers, a touch of pride in his voice. “She’s such a devoted mother it was like she was born to raise little Lewis. I swear she could be all the way across town and still hear him cry when he falls down.”

  “Oh please, you’ll make me blush,” Mandy said, her white skin showing no sign that this biologically was possible. “I suppose you’re here about the kitten?” she added, looking at the same empty spot in the doorway.

  “Mrs. Robinson is fully grown,” Claire replied. “Perhaps you’ve got the wrong cat after all…”

  “Not on that side she isn’t,” Mandy responded amiably. “They’re always young again after they die. Didn’t you know?”

  “The cat doesn’t want to come in,” Noah grumbled, still holding the door. “Make up your mind, won’t you?”

  “Not so loud, he’s still asleep,” Mandy said. Then to the girls, “I’m so sorry about the mess in here. As soon as Lewis’ father gets home we’re going to move into a nicer place, so we haven’t been worrying so much about keeping up with things.”

  “‘When his father gets home,’” Noah mimicked. “Never mind that we haven’t seen him since the baby was born, surely tomorrow is the day!”

  “What’s Mrs. Robinson doing?” Claire interrupted, trying to refocus the topic.

  “She’s walking away now,” Noah sighed. “Just as well really. There’s the spirit of a raccoon living upstairs, and they might not get along. He’s been there ever since before the place was built, and he’s never quite forgiven us for it.”

  “We have to follow her then!” Claire leapt to her feet, grateful for an excuse to leave.

  “There’s really no point,” Noah replied. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have some cocoa? We already have milk on the stove for Lewis.”

  “There’s every point!” Claire insisted, hurrying back onto the front porch. “Where is she? Over here? Am I close? How about now?” Claire stretched her hands, feeling blindly through the air.

  “Lower,” Noah said. “Over there, rubbing against the railing.”

  Dusk was already gathering outside, and Claire had trouble following Noah’s finger. She moved to where she thought he was pointing and reached out again. “How about now?”

  “She’s heading through the yard, toward the sidewalk.”

  “At least she doesn’t have to worry about cars anymore,” Samantha interjected. She’d just emerged from the house with a steaming cup in her hands. Mandy’s pale face loomed behind her in the shadows.

  “What are you waiting for then?” Claire asked, bounding down the steps, careful to skip the rotten one this time.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Noah cautioned. “Spirits can go places that people can’t follow. What will you even do if you catch her?”

  “She followed me here though, so she still sees me,” Claire announced stubbornly. “I bet she’s trying to send me a message or lead me somewhere.”

  “You have to come,” Samantha said firmly to Noah. “We can’t follow her without you.”

  “I’ve tried following spirits before,” Noah despondently replied. “They always walk through a building or a highway or something. You can’t keep up.”

  “The dead aren’t nearly as stubborn as Claire,” Samantha said, dragging the old man down the steps by one of his bony, wrinkled hands with their veins that could be felt through the skin. “Just point the way and we’ll figure out how to get there.”

  “Oh go ahead, dad,” Mandy bade them off from the door. “Lewis will have a chance to sleep, and then he’ll be able to stay up late and watch your old movies with you by the time you get back.”

  “Dr. Strangelove is not an old movie!” Noah retorted. “I may be getting older, but movies aren’t. Unlike me, they look exactly the
same as the day they were made. Oh bother, this must be how dust-bunnies feel being swept away against their will from home.”

  Despite his protests, the old man allowed Samantha to lead him to the sidewalk. Claire and Samantha didn’t have any definite target to follow as they couldn’t see Mrs. Robinson, so they kept their attention fixed on Noah as he loped in front of them. Noah would often pause to wait for Mrs. Robinson to finish smelling a plant or roll in the dirt, and he commented on this for the girls’ benefit. Other times he would declare that the cat had walked directly into a house, forcing all of them to race around to the other side. Noah was worried that the cat would then retrace its path, or exit the house from a side, or even stay in there, but so far Mrs. Robinson showed no inclination to deceive them.

  Off they went between the houses, over the low brick wall, along the sidewalk and up to the intersection. The sun had now completely set, and the street was aglow with racing blur. They were approaching midtown where the buildings soared imposingly and the lights glittered like a million unblinking eyes.

  “Why doesn’t Mrs. Robinson just come home?” Claire dreamily inquired, her unfocused gaze tracing the steel and concrete heights. Samantha grabbed her friend by the hand to prevent her from stepping off the sidewalk while their traffic light was still red.

  “Keep walking during the red light and you’ll find out,” Samantha said. “Hey, Noah, did she cross here?”

  Noah nodded and pointed toward the left side of a large apartment building ahead. The light turned green, but Noah hesitated to cross as the other people streamed past.

  “Hurry up then!” Samantha insisted. She grabbed Noah’s limp hand in the one not holding Claire and pulled them both forward. “She’s getting away, isn’t she? Come on!”

  “It’s not just her,” Noah said, his sunken eyes blinking slowly. He followed Samantha’s lead while panning his head to the left and right. “I’ve never seen so many in one place before.”

  “Why would so many animals want to hang around where it’s so busy?” Claire puzzled.

  “Not animals. People. Or… what’s left of them anyway,” Noah said. “There are three teenagers over there, sitting on the steps of the bank. Then a little girl sitting on the bus stop, and a bunch of old men gathered around the apartment. It’s mostly children though—dozens of the recently dead all moving in the same direction as us. I think they know we’re following Mrs. Robinson; they keep looking our way and whispering to each other.”

  Noah and the children stepped off the sidewalk on the far side of the street. Samantha dropped Noah’s hand right away, but her grip tightened on Claire.

  Claire was looking at the places Noah referred to, though in each case she couldn’t see anyone there. She could tell out of the corner of her eye that Samantha was trying to get her attention, but she stubbornly avoided looking at her friend. Samantha would know that Claire was only pretending to be brave, and Claire refused to give her the satisfaction.

  “Mrs. Robinson is inside that apartment complex now,” Noah said. “I don’t think we can go any farther.”

  “We’ve come this far,” Claire said, trying to keep her voice casual. “Let’s just see if it’s locked.”

  Still clutching each other’s hands, the girls walked briskly to the glass door leading into the apartment lobby. For a moment Claire thought she could smell an ancient musty leathery smell, but it was gone a second later. Had she just walked through the old men?

  “They’re still watching you, in case you were wondering,” Noah said from where he’d remained on the sidewalk. “One of them has followed you to the door.”

  “So what do you want me to do about it?” Claire turned in exasperation.

  “Nothing. Just thought you’d want to know,” Noah added.

  “Well I don’t!” Claire shot back. “They can’t do anything to me, can they?”

  “The people? No, I’ve never seen one of them interact with the living world. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about that stony creature with the claws on the end of its wings though. It’s been following us since we left the house, and it’s got the nastiest upside-down smile I’ve ever seen.”

  “You must think you’re pretty funny,” Claire replied with dignity. She tried the door in vain. She peered through the glass, but she couldn’t see anyone but potted plants in the lobby on the other side. She then began to study her reflection, searching for any sign of the stony thing or the dozens of invisible children or the stinking old men. She would have laughed at herself for being foolish enough to believe if she hadn’t just taken another big lungful of that old musty smell.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Noah asked after a long silence.

  “I didn’t say anything!” Claire responded, still studying the glass. Samantha at her side was only looking at her own reflection. She settled the age-long debate whether sarcasm was limited to words by striking several sarcastic poses.

  “I wasn’t talking to you?” Noah huffed. “There’s a fellow next to you who looks straight out an old-timey movie. He’s got one of those striped hats, and a waistcoat with big gold buttons, and —”

  Samantha fully turned around to face Noah, wriggling free of Claire’s hand. “We don’t care what he looks like. What did he say?”

  “He said today is an excellent day to be dead, and asked if we wouldn’t care to join him?” Noah coughed. “Now he’s sniffing your hair. Seems to be rather enjoying himself at that.”

  “And that’s how the party ended,” Samantha declared emphatically. She swatted around her head as though pursuing a relentless fly. “Claire? Are you ready to go home?”

  “Not without Mrs. Robinson!” Claire cried. “We’ve just got to wait until someone who lives here opens the door.”

  “Then what?” Samantha asked. “Search every floor for her? Maybe knock on all the doors too, asking if anyone’s seen your dead cat?”

  “She’s not dead!” Claire grew increasingly red in the face. “If she was dead then she wouldn’t be walking around. She’s just somewhere else, and I need to find her.”

  Samantha was still swatting around her head, dodging in anxious zigzagging lines as though that would lose her invisible pursuer. “Even if you do, you can’t pet her. You can’t pick her up or hold her or feel her next to you when you sleep. She’s gone, Claire. And nothing this weirdo says is going to bring her back, so let’s just go home.”

  Claire kept staring into the glass, watching her reflection as the tears started to swell in her eyes. Samantha made an exaggerated motion to block her ears, but Claire didn’t scream this time. She only glared at her friend’s reflection in silence with dark angry eyes, and that was a hundred times worse than the screaming.

  “Let’s go home, Claire,” Samantha repeated more softly. “Our parents will be wondering where we are. You can still have your hot chocolate at your house, then you’ll feel a lot better than if you were—”

  “I don’t want to feel better. I want Mrs. Robinson back.”

  The kids remained silent for a moment. Noah stared at his feet with his hands in his pockets. Claire and Samantha glared back and forth as though the other was personally responsible for everything that was wrong with the world.

  “The old timer says he’d like to keep the cat then, if it’s all the same to you,” Noah’s voice cracked slightly like a Captain telling everyone the boat is sinking while trying not to cause too much of a fuss about it. “I think we should all be getting home.”

  Claire’s lip began to shake, but she said nothing.

  “You absolutely cannot,” Samantha stepped up to argue into thin air where she assumed the spirit to be. “Mrs. Robinson isn’t a possession to be traded about. Either she's coming with us or she’s going where she decides.”

  Samantha searched for the invisible man around her with mounting frustration before turning on Noah to demand, “Well, what did he say?”

  “He said ‘Cats are the only thing more stubborn than the dead
. You’d have better luck ordering the sun to set at noontime than telling a dead cat what to do.’”

  “Obviously you’ve never met Claire then,” Samantha replied, trying to focus on the same patch of empty air that Noah was. “She’s twice as stubborn as the dead, and she doesn’t rot and stink like old leather either!”

  “He says ‘I’m not the one you smell’. Samantha, stop looking there. It thinks you’re staring at it.”

  “Tell him to look away first,” Samantha retorted. “I’m not backing down.”

  “Samantha, look out!”

  This would have been better advice if she could actually see the thing she was supposed to be looking out for. Samantha only managed to turn her face halfway toward Noah before her vision was replaced a line of searing agony. She felt like a bucketful of water that had been suddenly filled with hot steel. Her insides all wanted to be on the outside to cool off, and her outsides wanted to be safe inside for a change. It was the worst feeling she’d ever experienced in her life.

  “Sam? What happened? Noah, did something hit her?”

  Samantha was on her knees, although she couldn’t remember how she got there. Her vision was starting to return in her left eye, but her right might as well be staring into the sun. The musty smell came back in an overpowering wave, and it was all she could do to keep breathing and not vomit from the shock.

  “Get away from her!” she heard Noah shout. His voice sounded like it was coming through a hundred miles of tin cans. The musk lifted for a moment only to be replaced by a towering shadow.

  “We’ve got to get her out of here,” Noah urged.

  “What happened to her? Why’d she fall?” Claire asked.

  Samantha felt a hand under one arm, then two more hands on her other side. She lurched to her feet, staggering to keep up with Noah and Claire who dragged her along. They were almost at the sidewalk of the intersection, and again the light was red.