Post-Death Grind

Magic reached across the gulf between the living and the dead. It found Hanna nuzzled in the tender embrace of oblivion and dragged her into the light.

Hanna slammed the beeping alarm as the oppressive morning light burned her eyes. “Just five more minutes.”

She rolled over, tried to go back to sleep.

Zamir stuck his skull in her room. He’d been her roommate post-death for a few years now. Corporate apartment housing was cheap, and why pay for heating or air conditioning when neither of them didn’t really need it.

“You’re going to be late again,” he said..

She sat up. Her necromantically animated joins creaked and popped especially loudly when she first woke up. “So what? What will they do? Fire me.”

“Kid, you don’t want to know.”

Zamir adjusted his tie with fingers of bone. A few scraps of gray skin clung to his skull, but there wasn’t any meat left on him other than that. Hanna thought he should pull those bits off, but it was like a combover. It didn’t fool anyone, but even the post-dead had their vanity.

The necromantic rituals that kept Hanna tied to this world tended to preserve the decaying flesh. That Zamir was a skeleton said how long he’d been working past first death.

She rubbed her face, checking the skin’s consistency. A little rubbery, but still there. She shuffled to the closet, sprayed herself down with deodorant. There was always the musky smell of rot clinging to her, but there was only so much to be done. She wondered why, with their other senses dulled, her sense of smell remained so sharp.

Zamir slipped on his Coke bottle glasses over his empty eye sockets. “If you hurry, I’ll buy us breakfast.”

She got dressed quickly, but with care. It was inevitable that she’d fall apart. Every post-dead did. Little accidents here and there would tear away parts that wouldn’t grow back. And even though decay was slowed, it was always waiting to catch up. She’d already decided that she’d just remove her eyes when they got too runny. But she’d hold onto everything else as long as she could, if only to give herself a goal.

The public didn’t like the post-dead, but there weren’t any laws in place to prevent them from walking the streets. They had enough time to stop by Zamir’s favorite bagel place. They got a few strange looks from the other customers, who had concerns, perhaps not entirely invalid, about corpses near their food preparation. Zamir got an everything bagel without cream cheese because he was watching his cholesterol. Hanna got a coffee. She wasn’t a breakfast person.

They strolled the three blocks to work, holding their food but not consuming it. A lot of post-dead didn’t even bother, but Zamir said rituals like this kept them human. He should have known.

“My term’s ending next week.” He sniffed his bagel. It was hard to imagine him being able to smell anything, but not having eyes didn’t stop him from seeing. “Haven’t gotten my renewal offer yet.”

“They’ll offer it. Everyone knows the company can’t run without you.”

Having no skin, he couldn’t smile. Or he was always smiling, depending on how one looked at it. But Hanna knew his moods, could read him better than she read most of the living.

“You’re just saying that,” he said, blushing, but not literally.

“Wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t,” she said. “You’re probably tired.”

“No. Not really.”

A tightly knit throng of pedestrians parted for them. There were advantages to post-death.

“Really?” she asked. “You’re not ready?”

“I don’t think I am. You?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe. I stuck around for my folks, but dad died a few years ago. Mom doesn’t call.”

“It can be hard for breathers,” he said. “Nobody likes to be reminded of their mortality.”

 “We were never that close, even before.” She tossed her coffee into a trashcan. In the old days, she’d try offering it to someone, but hardly anyone took her up on it. “He didn’t sign up for post-death. Not that anyone offered. But he said he didn’t want to if they had. Not that he judged me for it.”

Zamir lowered his skull to study the pavement. “Family is complicated.”

He didn’t say the rest, but they’d talked about it. He’d outlasted all his close relatives. He’d never said how long he’d been post-death, but she guessed at least sixty or seventy years. He followed some great-grandkids online, but they never came to visit.

“If they offer renewal, you’ll take it?” she asked.

He nodded. “Probably.”

“Why?”

He looked at her, removing his glasses for effect, though that meant that she was only a blur to his sockets. “I don’t think I’m done yet.”

They arrived at the office. Zamir went off to the third floor, accounting. Hanna went to the mailroom. Most of the employees were breathers, though there was a new guy who was so fresh into post-death that he still could taste things. She’d told him to enjoy it for the month or so before it went away. And to be mindful of biting off his own tongue, which could happen easier than anyone expected.

The day was predictable. Perhaps drudgery was too strong a word for it, but not far off. She could do the job in her sleep, but she was good at it. If she wasn’t, they wouldn’t have given her the contract. She was a little more careful now. Papercuts were permanent, and it was a small point of pride that she only had two or three. But she was still fastest in the department.

A shadow clung to the corner of the room. She avoided it mostly, though at one point she needed to grab a basket of letters, getting close enough to see the red eyed stare of the Reaper. Post-death orientation suggested just ignoring him.

She sorted through the letters beside the new guy.

The new guy nodded toward the Reaper. “Think he’s mad about us?”

Hanna glanced at the shadow, but it had vanished. He usually checked in on her once or twice a day before going off on more important matters.

She said, “He’s just doing his job. Like the rest of us.”

Quitting time came around, and a bunch of the breathers made plans to get a drink. They didn’t invite Hanna or the new guy. So Hanna and New Guy met Zamir in the lobby. Plans were floated.

“We could go to the park,” said Zamir.

“Can’t,” said New Guy. “I’ve got dinner with Laurie’s folks. Wedding stuff.”

He walked away. Neither Hanna or Zamir commented on the nature of New Guy’s relationship status. He wasn’t the first to try to manage a mixed marriage. Some post-dead and breathers managed to hold things together. Not many, but hope sprang eternal.

“I think I’ll just go home,” said Hanna. “Get back to sleep.”

She smiled at the thought of nestling in tender oblivion. Necromancy had disproven the idea of an afterlife. Not that it stopped everyone from believing. Whatever gave them hope or kept them going. She didn’t judge. The blackness of death wasn’t so bad though. It only sounded bad to those who had yet to experience it.

Zamir put an arm around her shoulder. “C’mon. We can get some hot dogs. On me.”

They got two hot dogs with everything. Except Zamir didn’t like saurkraut. They sat on a bench as the early evening fell. A grackle settled on Zamir’s skull, picking at the loose skin.

“Nice night,” he said.

Hanna considered her hot dog. “Are you really sure you’re not done yet?”

“Why would I be?” He made a half-hearted attempt to shoo away the bird.

“Well, you’re just . . . bones. What is there here for you?”

Zamir looked away.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t say that.”

He chuckled as he handed a piece of hot dog to his new bird companion. “It’s okay. Nothing we don’t know. And I think about it. Especially with that guy breathing over my shoulder.”

The Reaper hovered silently behind them.

Zamir said, “This world isn’t perfect, but it has its moments. Like sitting with a friend, watching a hell of a sunset, smelling two of the finest hot dogs on this earth.” He leaned back, closing his non-existent eyes and grinning. Eternally grinning. “I’ve got plenty of time to be dead.”

Hanna glanced at the Reaper. For just a moment, a glimpse of a smile crossed his pale face. Then he was gone, off on more important matters. There was no rush. He’d get them eventually. Just not tonight.

“Yeah.” Hanna sniffed her hot dog as the yellow-red sky spread before her. “Plenty of time.”