“ He’d need the woman’s help to set things right, he just didn’t like having to wake the dead. ”
She stared at her face in the mirror, feeling everything around her slipping away. The face stared back, and she wondered who was looking at her.
~ Joe Derouen
Finally, mercifully, the spasms subsided, as the old man’s head lolled back, his mouth hanging open, taking in deep, ragged breaths of stale, recirculated air.
She stared at the phone, feeling guilty. She finally slid across the overstuffed Pleather couch and away from watching old episodes of The Twilight Zone. She was free tonight, apparently, so she might as well pay Ben a visit. She picked up the phone and dialed his cell.
Fred Ruskin barreled through the rain down Buchanan Street in his battered Pacer, the jar his dead wife had directed him to retrieve from his nephew’s coffin bouncing in the seat beside him.
