Playtime With Dead Things

Chapter 1

The toe tag on the decapitated body read: IF FOUND, CALL (512)576-3038, so fifteen-year-old Del pulled out her iPhone.

The burning Texas sun played spotlight for the headless body starring center stage.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Del said, circling the shirtless decaying corpse. She maintained a perimeter outside the buzzing flies and fluid soaked ground but breathed easier knowing it wouldn’t answer. “I’ve seen other dead people, you know.”

Seen. Created. Collected. Same difference.

Del spied a turkey vulture gliding in a copycat pattern around the body. “Get the hell outta here! He’s mine!” she fumed. She snatched a piece of gray limestone from the dirt and hurled the rock skyward. The irritated vulture voiced its displeasure before settling into the field’s lone oak tree. For now, Del owned her prize uncontested. Dead bodies were a one-way ticket to life in jail for most, not a bloody precursor to salvation.

She sneered at the corpse. “He’d eat you if I let him, but you’re my entrance fee.” Del flipped her head toward the oak masquerading as a kickstand for her ten-speed bike. “And them.”

Nervous excitement drove Del to chew her last unbroken nail to a jagged nub before dialing. She figured most people would be afraid to call, but they weren’t in her situation. How many people needed to find a magical cure for cancer, like yesterday?

What if no one answered?

The option to call the cops had long since passed. They would canvas the field. Talking her way out of one dead body seemed plausible, but not a half-dozen. While her underground fort kept them out of sight, their putrid scent would undoubtedly betray her.

“Yeah?” Gruff and tumble on the other end, but welcoming in an odd way. “You got Pez.” Del strained to hear him over the hum of the idling truck engine behind the man’s voice.

“I found something I think belongs to you.” Del opted not to slow play her hand. Time wasn’t an ally.

“I’m listening,” Pez said.

“A body. Male. Fat and goopy. Like, ‘loved Taco Tuesday’ fat.” Del noted no blood around the corpse’s wounds. “And no head.” She performed a quick pirouette to verify she didn’t miss it in the open field.

Nope. No head. No smell either. Maybe the perfect guy.

“Should I be freaking out?” Del asked, dragging a sweaty palm across her Deadpool t-shirt. Silence swept over the abandoned field. She dug her teeth into her sun-chapped bottom lip.

“No need to freak out. We’ll take care of everything. Can you tell me where you are?” Pez asked.

A background voice chimed in behind Pez, loud and filled with subtle rage. “Did you put your phone number on a dead body?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I’d never give out my number, Dermit,” Pez paused. “This is your phone.”

Del laughed so hard the jet-black iPhone slipped from her hands. It bounced harmlessly into the white milky substance oozing from the body. She hesitated but relented and plucked it from the goo.

“Five-second rule,” she muttered, wiping the phone clean on the hip of her jeans shorts before putting it back to her ear.

“Just find out!” The background voice faded, but his anger resonated through the phone.

“Relax. You’re gonna burst a blood vessel.” Pez cleared his throat. “Still there, kid?”

“Kid? I’m not the one losing their dead bodies,” Del scoffed. “This thing’s got no head, and I think it may be smarter than you.”

“Touche,” Pez chuckled. “I like your spirit.”

“And you owe me a new pair of shorts,” Del’s greedy spirit took control of her mouth.

“Liked your spirit may be more accurate. How ’bout you text me your location,” he said, before lowering his voice, “and if you keep this between us, I’ll make sure you can buy a whole new ensemble to match some new shorts.”

Del’s fingertips danced nervously across the touch screen tapping out her location.

“A magic fountain of life,” she muttered. “Dad better be right.” The stories were entertaining and all, but what Del needed more was hope.

His words ran through her head:

It’s like those trays by the convenience store cash register.

Give a penny. Take a penny.

But instead, the fountain treats lives as pennies.

Give a life. Take a life.

Del amassed enough bodies for six lifetimes, twice what she needed. If these guys coming weren’t who she thought they were, that number would have to increase to eight.

Chapter 2

“You’re the first headless body I’ve seen, though. I’ll give you that.” Del relented her guardian’s prowl and knelt near the body. “If you truly want to impress me, you’d answer.”

Ears or no ears, the dead made the best listeners.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She cupped her hands around her mouth and leaned in close. “We’re not alone in this field.”

She pushed a pile of dirt over the “dude milk” as she referred to it. Dude milk seemed harmless compared to whatever name some scientist would label the white ooze. Maybe they’d name it after her. God, she hoped not. That’s not the way she wanted to be immortalized. There was a better way if one was inclined to believe the ramblings of a dying man.

The corners of her lips turned higher when she saw a clear spot close to the body. Del tossed a handful of dirt onto the corpse’s chest. The clump floated on the soggy flesh. She continued until his nipples became a buried treasure.

“Sorry, dude, not a fan of Moobs. You know, man-boobs.” Del leaned in closer and molded the dirt into a bikini. “Everyone’s going to be wearing one of these this summer. All natural, organic dirt bikini. The Dirtini. It practically sells itself!”

The digital readout on her iPhone read ten after three. More troubling was the eighteen-percent juice left on the battery. She rolled her eyes realizing she didn’t ask the guy how long it would take them to arrive.

“How come you don’t reek?” Del inhaled deeply. A few small particles of dust snaked deep into her nose. An epic sneeze evicted every bit of oxygen from her lungs. The force sent the loose pieces of the Dirtini flying in the opposite direction.

Clearing her throat, a light-headed Del sat back on her knees examining the random brown splotches on his otherwise bare chest. “Design flaw. We’ll need to work on that.” She moved her finger and thumb to her chin. “Why don’t you smell? The others smell.” Del flipped her head toward the oak tree. “Can’t get enough air fresheners to kill that stench. Can you believe I used roadkill to cover the smell? You’d be surprised how effective a splattered skunk carcass can be.”

Not a single cloud in the blue sky. Not one break from the sun. These were the hardest days to contain the lingering decay of death’s perfume. Her nose had grown immune to the skunk, but not to them. The human body simply wasn’t designed to tolerate that smell.

“When the doctors diagnosed Addie with Leukemia a second time three years ago, I swore I’d never let anything happen to her. A foolish promise, but as a twelve-year-old at the time, I didn’t know any better,” she sighed and returned her focus to the ground. “Two years later, no one had any answer as to why she wasn’t getting any better. I learned words like chemotherapy, metastasize, and hospice. She’d perk up when Dad came home from his business trips. He’s home so seldom and he’s a shell of his former self, but something about him being there made her better. She’d start struggling again a week after he left. I hated when he left, but he was doing everything he could to keep us in our family home and Addie with the best doctors.

Addie would get worse and worse and I’d get desperate. Desperate enough to, well—” Her hands found a stray stalk of hay and she peeled back the brittle layers. “—talk to headless corpses.

“Life is fragile. It’s tough to get ahead.” Del’s wide chocolate eyes challenged the expansive blue sky when she laughed. “See what I did there? Nothing? Man, you’re tough.” She wrinkled her nose. “Anyhow, my promise to cure her, my desperation, brought me this field. Our field. Addie’s and mine. Not yours and mine. I know it’s tough for you to follow on the account of no brain but try to stay with me.

“Dad’s always on the road on the account of us being broke due to Addie’s medical bills, but when he was home, he’d tell me and Addie stories of a fountain. A magic fountain. People of the fountain would travel the country searching for those who deserve its riches. When they found them, they would drop a dead body with a phone number attached. Only those strong with conviction would call.”

Del threw her hands in the air. “Don’t give me that look. Ain’t my rules. Find strong conviction or an evil heart.

“Anyhow, I convinced this boy Jason to build us a fort under that oak tree.” Del glanced where the man’s head should be and scoffed. “Bet nothing sounds funny to you these days.

“Found the only plot that didn’t have limestone fighting the shovel for every inch. Only had to sacrifice two squeezes of my boobs. Over the clothes of course. Boys are so easy to seduce. The internet is a goldmine of Youtube videos and articles on how to bag your man. I think I’ve watched or read them all.” Del winked at the body. “We planned intricate tunnels and a treehouse above, also courtesy of Youtube, but Jason wanted more than I was willing to give him to build a treehouse.”

Del pointed toward the tree. “I’d drag you up the hill and introduce you around, but you have friends coming. Friends more important than my friends, but together, I think we can make good on my promise to Addie.”

A white cargo van speckled in brown dust turned the corner at the top of the hill.

A smile lit up her face. “Speak of the Devil.”

If you believe the fountain is powered by evil spirits rather than good intentions.

Chapter 3

Pez and Dermit conferred out of earshot. Sparse words escaped their pointed conversation. Del gawked at the gargantuan men. She kept herself between the men and the tree, believing she could outrun them to her fort if things went south. Dad’s rambling stories aside, anyone willing to attach a phone number to a dead body feared nothing and was a threat to everything.

Dermit stood six foot five, about the same height as her dad, but without an ounce of fat on his body. Del could see every muscle outlined by his clothes worn a bit too tight. Pez towered four to five inches above Dermit. She spied a tangling dangling price tag on his waistline.

Tangling dangling.

A favorite phrase of Addie. Del needed the reminder to calm her nerves. She spent the last year surrounded by the dead and found herself unsure of how to act or whether to truly trust the living.

“Hey, Kid.” Dermit waved Del closer. Something about his voice melted her uncertainty. “We won’t hurt you.”

Del stepped closer but stayed out of arm’s reach. Even arms long as theirs.

“Thanks for the call.” Dermit scratched his head. His fingers were lost in his jet-black hair. Del stared, waiting for them to reappear. “We have no idea how this phone number ended up attached to this body, but we hate seeing a pretty girl like you havin’ to deal with such ugliness. I’m sure you don’t want to explain this to your old man.”

“Not an issue. He’s never around,” Del said.

“I’m sure he’s got his reason.” Dermit smirked. “How about we take care of this for you?”

“And give you a few dollars for your troubles.” Pez flashed a wad of bills.

Del stepped forward, grabbed the cash, stuffed it in her pocket, and retreated. “I don’t want the cash. I want your help.”

Tears of frustration filled Del’s eyes. There were easier ways to get money than this.

These guys need to be the answer of the question: how? How do I save Addie?

“Doin’ what?” Pez asked.

“Help me catch time in a jar.” Addie folded her fingers together and pleaded.

“Listen, we’ll take the body. No questions asked, but you ain’t makin’ a ton of sense. Let’s back up a moment.” Pez yanked an orange plastic rectangle with a cartoon skeleton head on top. His bulbous thumb eased back the head and a yellow candy protruded. He popped one, then another, and finally a third into his mouth. “Pez?” He extended his arm toward Del. Her eyes locked on the lemon candy. “I prefer orange myself, but the Valero station only had lemon and grape. No one likes grape.”

“Umm, sure.” Del pinched the candy between thumb and index finger and tossed it in her month. No sense worrying about taking candy from a stranger at this point.

Del peered close. She swore she saw two cuts on the side of Dermit’s nose. Almost as if he had four nostrils and extra skin. Or maybe fake skin.

Dermit ignored her and motioned to Pez. “Grab the shoulders. I’ll get the legs.”

Del circled the men, inspecting from every angle, but never getting too close in case she misjudged them.

“Hello? Ignored girl here.” Del waved her arms.

Pez popped three candies into his mouth and focused on Dermit. “Sure. Make me grab the gross part,” he scoffed. “Why is there an outline of dirt around his nipples?”

Dermit’s nostrils flared. “Would you just grab him.”

He lifted the corpse’s legs in the air before Pez shuffled around to the shoulders.

Pez resembled a grown-up version of Pigpen. On steroids. Lots of steroids. Maybe all the steroids.

She opted for a different attention grabbing strategy. The helpless girl card. It succeeded in getting Jason to build her a fort. Mark Mathias wrote her term paper on The Great Gatsby when she cried to him about Addie’s cancer. Effective, although she preferred strength to weakness.

A small amount of shame etched insults across Del’s confidence.

But desperate times.

Del twirled a strand of her strawberry blonde hair with her finger. She didn’t mind the dirt on her hands since she knew her mom would force her to wash her hair tonight. “After you big, strong guys are done with that icky thing, do you think maybe you could help me move something else before you go.”

She batted her brown eyes and twisted on her toe like so many women do in the movies to manipulate a man. Neither Pez nor Dermit seemed to notice her, so Del blinked faster. Her rapid eyelid movement changed her vision to a movie from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

“Dermit, I think the kid is having a seizure!” Pez dropped the corpse leaving Dermit pushing a headless plow across the hay field.

Del’s belief she could outrun the men abandoned her with Pez’s first steps. His gargantuan hands clasped her waifish arms before she could flinch.

“Aah!” Del screamed.

“It’s alright, kid. Relax,” Pez said, maintaining his grip and holding her steady.

“Your hands are freaking freezing.” Del attempted to withdraw both her arms. “Seriously, dude, they’re like ice.”

Pez released his grip and placed a hand on his cheek. “Feels normal to me.” He shrugged. Pez extended his hands. “Dermit, do my hands feel cold?”

Dermit slammed down the corpse’s legs. A puff of dust swirled around his feet. “Let’s just help her, so we can get out of here. I hate this heat,” Dermit mumbled as he walked past Pez. “And clearly, it’s getting to your mind.”

Del bounded up the hill. “I can’t wait to show you my fort.” Every few steps, she would jump left or hop right around the rotting monochromatic carcasses. Something surged through her body. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. “Watch out for the dead skunks,” she called back at the men lumbering behind her.

“Did you say dead skunks?” Pez shouted. “Got something perfect for that.” Del watched Pez fish a Pepe Le Pew candy dispenser from his pocket and toss the other to Dermit who squatted it away. “You’re loss.” Pez shrugged.

The men caught up to Del who was standing ten feet from the oak tree.

“So, what can we do for you?” Dermit asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“It’s not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you.” Del knelt and slid a rusted latch across the wooden door nestled horizontally across the ground. “My ex-boyfriend and I made this.” She grinned.

Pez pointed his footlong sausage fingers at the door in the ground. “Did he paint the pretty unicorn and rainbow as well?”

“He wishes,” Del giggled. “I did.” She paused, losing her smile in the breeze sweeping across the field. “For Addie, my sister. She loves unicorns. I don’t have the heart to tell her they aren’t real.”

Pez leaned over Dermit’s shoulder and chuckled as he whispered, “Well, not anymore.”

The wooden door groaned as Del struggled to flip it open, but she managed to force the hinges to comply with her wish. Dermit jumped back as the door banged a few inches from his toes.

“Sorry,” Del said. “I usually don’t come in this way, but you boys didn’t look svelte enough to slide through the secret tunnel.” She smiled on the inside for using such a grown-up word. Del gestured in the direction of a hump in the ground that most wouldn’t notice unless told.

Score one for the word of the day calendar.

Del hopped into her fort. Silence. No hospital machines beeping. No kids crying. No parents fighting. She spent more waking hours here than at home these days.

Jason may have been a dork, but the five by ten dirt walled room might serve as his legacy. Del wished it were more level, three feet deep in some parts and closer to four in others. Jason stopped digging when he hit limestone.

Addie had issues breathing if the doors were closed and the darkness reminded her too much of the MRI machines, so Del usually kept the doors open and build her Addie her own escape tunnel.

In case of a cave in.

Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the two pictures leaning against the south wall. Addie hadn’t visited since Del added the new decorations, ones she was eager to show Pez and Dermit.

Pez jumped into the fort and noticed Del looking at the pictures.

“Is that her? Your sister?” he asked.

Del nodded. “Addie. She’s the one you’re going to help me save.” She motioned to the photos. “That’s us riding the Tilt-o-Whirl at the State Fair and the other one,” Del pointed to a digital photo in a cheap plastic red and green frame. “That’s her in the hospital with Santa Claus. When it was her turn on his lap, the stupid girl told Santa to bring me a boyfriend so I wouldn’t be sad.” Del glanced at Pez. “I don’t think you’re what she had in mind.”

Dermit slid down and took inventory of the underground fort. “What in the blazes?”

Del scooted over on her knees and held up a rainbow emoji poop shaped pillow. “Like I said, rainbows and unicorns are Addie’s thing. Apparently, she thinks my bony butt is going to get bruised sitting on the hard ground. The girl refuses to acknowledge I’m twice her size.”

Dermit stepped forward and held up his open palms. “Kid, we’re cool with the pillow, but…what’s with the bodies?”

“Oh,” Del paused as a smile crept up her face. Orange embers lit in her brown eyes as she turned her neck so she could look over her shoulder at the pile of bodies scantily clad in torn clothing. “Them?”