The After-Hours light was on, but there was a problem with the marquee. However, it was only when she went out to fix the damned thing, that she noticed the large man on the roof.
“Oy! Get off there, this building’s condemned!”
There was no reply. “Hey!”
Still nothing, and he wasn’t moving either. Wouldn’t come out of the shadows so she shrugged and went back inside to call the police.
“Hello?” The line clicked. And clicked again. “Hello?”
“Hello,
“Shit. Andy, get off the goddamned line, there’s this freaky guy on the roof that won’t go away.”
“Hang on, I’m on the second floor, I’ll go up and deal with him.”
“No, I’m calling the police, get off the line!”
“Fine; suit yourself.” The line clicked off and she was left with a dial tone again. Calling the police was not something she did a lot, and the receiver slipped from her hand when she heard the crashing upstairs.
Dashing outside, she saw her older brother and the man on the roof fall – from the roof – to the ground. With a shriek they hit the pavement and she didn’t look. She couldn’t.
The police arrived and cleaned up the bodies, taking her to the station. She couldn’t think; she could barely breathe. They wrapped her up in a large orange-yellow blanket and fed her cocoa. She recalled asking for tea but supposed in retrospect that they didn’t want her to have too much caffeine.
Their heads were smashed into a literal pulp; there seemed to be blood everywhere she looked.
“Can you remember his face?”
“No. Shadows. God. All that blood.”
It went on like that for several hours. She could see and hear herself; she was outside her own body.
It really wasn’t fair.
“Would you mind if we just kept an eye on the store overnight?”
“Sure, sure, it’s condemned, we were just emptying out our last…our last…” shit. There was stuff still in there. “I need to go back. I left something.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
She was up, stumbling towards the door. “Woah, there, I think you should just wait for us, all right?”
“All right.”
She rode with them in their car back to the store. It was dark and empty, and looked like a skull. It was laughing at her.
“It’s just upstairs.” She took them two at a time, finding the small room that she kept the valuables in.
They were still all there; she picked up the bag and filled it quickly before returning to the police downstairs. “It was locked away, but I have it.”
“All right, come on down and we’ll take you home…”
Her house wasn’t the same. Something was there, and she was afraid of it. There was something long since dead; something mummified, something wrapped in bandages with hollow triangular eye sockets. In her mind she could see it; it reminded her strangely of Alf, if Alf were dead and rotting. Strange things.
She locked up behind her and then turned all the lights on. The TV followed, then the radio, then every speaker filled the house with noise. Sound.
The dead things were still in the house. She picked up the phone. Dialed. “Samson?”
“
“Can you come over here?” she was whispering. The dead things might hear her.
“
“We’re not having an affair.”
“I know that and you know that. But I don’t like this whole sneaking around thing.”
“Just – please – come over here…” a pleading tone entered her voice. She could’ve sworn that one of those shadows moved. Watched her.
“Oh, fine…” there was a click, and then Samson’s warm voice faded.
Finding a sweater was easy, and then the door opened. Samson was letting himself in. “
She looked at him; he took two steps forward and folded her in his arms. “God. You look terrible. Sit down, sit down, tell me what’s happened…”
After she’d finished the events of the evening, Samson let out a long sigh. “
“They’re watching me.”
“No, they’re not.” He shook his head. “But
“They’re working on it.” She hugged her knees. They had moved to the couch in the living room, after turning off most of the extraneous lights and sounds. Now only the radio and a few switches were still on. “They said they’d call in a few days once they got the dental records and all…”
“You seem calm. I thought you’d be in hysterics by now.”
“It’s not really real, is it, Samson? None of this is real. It’s a dream, isn’t it?”
“No, Alice. This is real.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I have to go home now.”
“Thank you.” She gestured to the tea. “And for listening.”
“You’re welcome.” He said, and left her alone.
The dead things were back, and they were watching her again. They were the size of puppets, they didn’t have legs. They hovered on sticks around her, in the shadows. Trailing their bandages on the floor. They watched, and they laughed. Some of them wanted to make friends with her; she wouldn’t let them. They were too frightening.
They had been with her since she and her brother were children. They were always watching the pair of them equally, so they weren’t as scary when concentrated. Now they only had her to watch, and so they all watched her. She wished she were dead.
The phone rang again.
“Hello?”
“
“But he’s my friend…”
“And that’s the reason I’m not mad now.” She pointed out, voice sad and calm. “But please. Please. Just…just leave us alone in the middle of the night, okay?”
“Okay…” she heard her voice crack and then hung up. She couldn’t talk; what was she going to do?
She climbed the stairs with her eyes half-closed so the dead things were obscured. In her bed, alone in her bed, she trembled.
“Simon, where are you?” her little stuffed doll found its way into her arms, and she cuddled it tight, as if she was a child again. Simon had always kept her safe, had kept the dead things at bay.
Her eyes closed, and she fell into the abyss.
**
Dawn couldn’t save her from her nightmares. The dead things were chasing her down long, empty hallways. Most of them had blood splatters, and she knew it was her brother’s. She was trying to get to her brother, her dead brother, her brother with the crushed skull on the ground.
Cold sweat and screaming woke her up. Simon was smiling at her with his button eyes and nail polish lips. “At least you’re still here.” She hugged him. He would’ve hugged her back, she supposed, but he was stuffed only with muslin and fabric. “I love you…”
The phone was blinking. Messages. She prodded her answering machine until it beeped at her and spewed them out. Mostly from friends, family. One she didn’t recognize. She wrote down the number and forgot about the others.
Dial. “Hello?”
A rather relieved voice. “
“No, Andy, you’re dead.” She replied.
“Yes, I know, I can only make one phone call. I wanna let you know that I’m all right; the place where I am isn’t Heaven, but I can’t tell you more than that. I’m not in Hell, it’s nice here. Don’t worry about me, I didn’t die in pain, it’s nice and peaceful here.”
“It’s wonderful to hear your voice…” she sighed, hugging her doll. “I miss you…”
“I miss you too.” He admitted. “But don’t try and get here any faster than you’re already going. I’ve reserved a place for you; we’ve got a lovely little cottage on a lake here. I love you…”
“I love you too, big brother.” She smiled. “Don’t forget about me!”
“I never will.” There was a click.
“Did you hear that, Simon?” the doll flopped in a nod. “Andy’s happy!”
The dead things weren’t there when she made breakfast. She hoped that they’d moved on. She talked on the phone with her family and friends, and a few phone calls from the police. Mail arrived and she opened a few packages. Bills and files she put away, fiddling with a calculator. She wished she could call her brother more than once per day. He’d know how to work all these things.
Simon kept her company for the rest of the day, her silent yet loving companion. Andy had made him for her twelve years ago, it was her first memory. Her big brother handing her a doll with shaggy black hair and big bright shiny googly eyes, and smeared wet nail-polish lips. “This is Simon; he’s in love with you.”
And she loved him back.
After lunch, she went downtown with Simon in her backpack, phone in her pocket. They were tearing down After Hours, finishing with the demolitions.
“Miss Alice, where are you going?”
It was The Spinster. “I’m watching them tear down my big brother’s store.”
“Oh, I’m so very terribly sorry, Miss Alice.”
“Oh, all right…
“You know,
“Simon never makes a mess.” The doll flopped into a nod of agreement. “He’s always so very neat and tidy.”
The Spinster laughed. “He is, isn’t he?”
“That’s very sweet of you, to be taking such good care of him.”
“He takes care of me.” She nodded towards the doll, stroking its shaggy hair. “Andy says that he’s in love with me.”
“Mmm, is he really?” The Spinster asked.
“Yes!”
“Well, I wish the happy couple lots of luck.” The Spinster stood up, folding up her magic box and putting it inside her coat pocket. “The other Spinsters are having a dinner meeting today, and I can’t be late.”
“Have a good time.”
At the store, everyone seemed sympathetic.
It seemed odd to her that no one else talked to Simon like she did. Simon may have been a doll stuffed with muslin and fabric, but he had feelings too! She tried to convince this to the cashier, but the man simply laughed and told her to run along home. It made her cross.
“Tonight,” she told the doll, as they made their way back to her house, “I want you to prove to me that you’re really in love with me.”
The doll flopped to the side, tilting its head at her in confusion. What was it that she could want?
The doll was utterly silent; he must have been shocked.
“You know, I’ve been saving myself for you.” She smiled, whispering to him conspiritally. “You’ll be my very first…doesn’t that make you feel special?”
Simon still said nothing.
“I’m sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable…”
The doll flopped into a nod, smiling at her as always. “Oh, you will? Oh, thank you!” she hugged him tightly, and hurried into the house with her bag full of groceries.