Nathan's Clan of Deadheads Page 6

  The group seated at the table backed away, the chairs screeching across the tiled floor. The fear written on their faces didn’t keep them from defending themselves. “What are you talking about? We been sitting here minding our own business. We haven’t broken any rules.”

  “We’ll decide if rules have been broken,” the male of the group pushed a finger into his own puffed-out chest.

  “What exactly is it you think we’ve done?”

  “You’ve inhabited the living,” their leader stated. “This is unacceptable. Only members of our sect have been given permission to—”

  “We ain’t done no such thing.”

  “Do you believe the balls on this guy? Do you know who you’re mouthing off to?”

  A flurry of accusations and denials clouded the air. The argument grew focused and more intense. Confusion and chaos erupted among the two groups. Nathan took a risk and slipped free. He ran through the closest wall, and found himself standing chest high among cases of beer and soda. A tiny crack in the boards separating the storeroom from the main bar provided a means of watching the fracas unfold. In the end, it took less than fifteen seconds for the three intruders to engulf the other deadheads. Only the sound of clinking glass drifted through the room, as the barkeep restocked clean mugs on the shelf of a clear-fronted refrigerator, not able to see the bottles now littering the table and floor.

  The male walked over to peer down at the body Nathan had jumped from. Like some type of automatronic movement, the body that was Chris lifted the drink to his lips, took a long drought of the beverage, and lowered it back to the table never once taking notice of the towering ghost beside him. The study went on for such a long time, Nathan feared his new self would begin to regain awareness.

  Nathan reflected on his experience thus far: Most larger cities teemed with deadheads. Dead folks should be haunting damn near every nook and cranny of this one. The low numbers he’d seen over the past two days surprised him, right up until moments ago. That was all the light on the still he required. He needed to get out of this city as soon as possible.

  A sigh of relief escaped Nathan’s throat when the three intruders shrank down to normal size and departed. He slipped back into Chris’ body and headed toward the door.

  “Hey! What about your burger?”

  “You eat it,” Nathan shot the remark over his shoulder.

  The man hollered as the door began to close on Nathan’s retreating backside. “What about paying for the beer?”

  “Shit. Sorry.” Nathan scurried over, pulling cash from his wallet. He slapped it down on the bar, turned and ran. He didn’t care if other deadheads could see a delay in the motion or not.

  He would’ve left Chris sitting there, but he needed to check out of the hotel. Otherwise his trust accounts would take quite a hit until he figured out how to stop the charges from racking up. Plus, he couldn’t very well get in the truck and drive it away without a body. No, the only open option was to check out and drive out of town. Fast.

  Breathing hard, he approached the front desk of the hotel and presented his room key. “I need to checkout. And quickly, please.”

  “Yes, sir. I hope there isn’t anything too serious that has shortened your stay with us,” the clerk stated.

  “Some sudden business I need to attend to on a very tight deadline, I’m afraid.” Nathan’s hands shook as he pulled a credit card from his wallet and slid it across the desk. Keeping a watch on the lobby as best he could, yet still remain aware of the transaction, he wondered if he should leave a short note for Vicky. He decided he didn’t have time for regrets over what turned out to be an unsatisfying one-night stand, though he did allow for a twinge of remorse at having to leave the Grateful Dead T-shirt behind; his private joke, or what he’d thought of as private until moments ago. It wasn’t only his own well-being he needed to be concerned about: the fate of the entire clan could be at stake if things went downhill.

  The toe of his boot tapped reflexively against the floor. The hotel desk clerk slid the bill over for a signature. Nathan scratched his name across the line, dropped the pen, gave a quick tip of his non-existent hat with a curt “Thank you, ma’am,” and headed for his truck.

  Chapter 12

  Nathan didn’t bother about travel direction. Planting his foot to the floorboard, the truck gained speed to enter the freeway on the first ramp that caught his attention. He drove for almost half an hour with constant checks of the surroundings, no matter how quick things blurred into the past through the windows, before his heart rate slowed to normal.

  He found himself oddly hoping Vicky wouldn’t be upset over his quick departure. Granted, the relationship hadn’t blossomed as he’d wished, but something in his gut told him the explanation lay buried, deep within the psyche of his host. The strangeness of the summer gave him pause, but then again, maybe Vicky just wasn’t his type.

  Recovering from the short reverie, he realized he’d been traveling on the beltway around the outskirts of the city. He noticed an increase in the number of deadheads hitching rides when he caught sight of an overhead sign announcing Exit 43B to Dayton. He flipped the turn indicator, merged, and headed north. Granted, it took him farther into cold weather, but escaping it had never been the point of his winter excursions. If it had, he would’ve gone south like he’d done in one of his earlier incarnations. It seemed snow-birding didn’t cease simply because one had died. No, Nathan wanted the things he missed during summers with the clan; movies, concerts, plays, books, art galleries, and museums.

  An hour later, as he passed the interchange with Route 35, the dryness of his mouth and the deep hole in his empty stomach reminded him he left his lunch to the barkeep in his rush to find safer ground. He pulled to the shoulder to search Google Maps with his phone for a place he might quench both. Near Sinclair College several establishments popped up. One described as a sleek cocktail bar serving gourmet bites, and a bit up from that a wine gallery. Both piqued his interest. Another spot caught his attention, but on the west side of the river dividing the populace: the Dayton Art Institute. He panned the map and discovered the Air Force Museum, a place he’d vowed to visit one day, to the northeast of the city just south of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. He shrugged.

  It may have been only a bit more than an hour’s drive north of the danger he just left, but with the current rush of activity by the living and dead it seemed far enough. At least for the time being.

  He dropped the phone on the seat, stuck a fresh toothpick in his mouth, and eased back into traffic. After taking the nearest exit, multiple signs crept into his awareness as he drove along city streets in a search of the restaurant he’d decided on. He passed a library, several small art galleries, two theatres, and a museum, all only blocks from one another in what seemed to be a one- to two-mile area.

  He shifted the toothpick and gave a smile and tipped his ‘hat’ to a woman moving along the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. He pulled to the curb, put the gear into park, and rolled down the passenger window. “Excuse me, ma’am. Could ya’ll point me in the right direction. I seem to be a bit lost.”

  She turned toward him as he got out of the truck, brushed a lock of dark shoulder length hair aside, and looked slowly from his boots to his head. “Oh, honey, allow me to save you.”

  “I’d be rightly appreciative.”

  “What can I help you with?” she asked. Then added in a soft voice Nathan barely heard, “Oh, let me count the ways.”

  Nathan pointed to the West Virginia license plate on the back of the truck and turned to face her again, ensuring his dimples blazed. He pushed the southern charm. “As you might could tell, I’m not from around here. I’m a bit parched, and I feel the need to fill the tank some, too,” he said, patting his stomach. “You think you could suggest something?”

  “Oh, have I got suggestions.” She lifted one manicured hand to the turtleneck collar of her white sweater. An adjacent store window reflected light of late afternoon sun and glinte
d off glittery-red nail polish. Gold bangle bracelets clattered as she held out the other hand. “I’m Stacey. And,” she continued, her eyes’ focus lowering for a millisecond, “besides built, you are?”

  His cheeks burned hot with embarrassment, much as they’d done the first time Sarah had commented on this new self of his. Nathan took her hand and a tiny waft of wind brought an enticing fragrance of perfume to his nostrils. “Nathaniel Ray Crockett, ma’am; Nathan. Though some folks call me Nate.”

  “Modest beyond reason.” Stacey smiled, her lips parting to reveal teeth whiter than the sweater. “And polite, too. Well, Nate, it is certainly a pleasure to be stopped by the likes of you.”

  Nathan smiled, going for full-on country charm. “Why, thank you, ma’am. Now, if it’s not too bold of me to ask, it’d be a true pleasure if you’d allow a stranger to buy you dinner. I always prefer company when I dine. It makes everything taste better, and so much more enjoyable.”

  She withdrew her hand from his. “You country boys sure know how to turn a girl’s head, don’t you?”

  “We like to try, yes, ma’am.” Nathan gave her a wink.

  “If you’ll close and lock the door to your truck, I believe there’s a quiet place right around the corner,” Stacey said, pointing. She followed him and waited on the sidewalk next to the truck, then held out her arm to be hooked through his as he approached. “It’s nothing fancy, but…”

  “As long the food’s tolerable and the drink is fit to wash it down, I believe it’ll do just fine.” He stood between her and the road, as a gentleman should, and tucked her arm around his. A hint of cologne registered in his mind and he brushed it off as perhaps residual of his own still on the shirt he wore. Hoping for a better outcome than he’d experienced with Vicky he said, “I’ll follow your lead, wherever it takes us.”

  Seated on a vinyl-clad bench across the Formica-topped table along the far wall away from the window, her voice low with a lusty timbre, she laughed at all his jokes and demurred in all the right places. The meal of an overcooked pasta dish with little flavor at least filled the cavern for him and took his mind off his stomach. The second bottle of dry white wine of some non-distinct label and questionable vintage took his mind off anything but his growing anticipation. When one of her shoeless feet found its way up between his thighs and lingered there, the toes making tiny circles, his excitement mounted. And, apparent to him, his fears of another failure were unfounded.

  He signaled the waitress for the check and reached for his wallet. “Now, I wonder if you could top off such a wonderful time by telling me where I might find a decent place to lay my head tonight.”

  “Well, if you wouldn’t think it…distasteful, or think less of me—” Stacey removed her foot from his lap.

  “Now, why would I think that?” Nathan tried his best to shield the adjustment before he stood to help her from her seat. Perhaps the issues he’d experienced with Vicky were off base. Way off base.

  Stacey winked and placed a hand to her throat. “Well, a lady has to be sure, uphold a proper reputation. But, if you’re, well, willing, I can think of no more decent a place than mine.”

  “I put myself into your proper and capable hands.” Nathan said as he handed cash to the waitress, who accepted it and, with an odd smirk, nodded to Stacey.

  “And they are extremely capable, I promise you.” She nudged her forearm against him as he helped her from the bench seat.

  “Maintain your grip, little darlin’, and I’ll believe my safety to be well guaranteed.” He gestured toward the exit. “Ma’am?”

  Nathan followed her out the door fairly hypnotized; she the charmer, he the coiled snake rising and swaying side to side in rhythm to the hips beneath her coat. In the truck, Stacey cuddled in as close as possible and wasted no time in showing Nathan just how capable her hands could be. It made concentration on driving difficult, but he managed to follow directions to her apartment, which included a bit of finger pointing, without any mishap.

  In her darkened apartment, Stacey took his hand and led him to the bedroom. She undressed him, pushed him down onto the bed, and with slow, steady skill drove Nathan’s senses to the point of not caring when he made the eventual, unavoidable discovery.

  Chapter 13

  A new and different experience, though not expected, Nathan couldn’t say he didn’t find it satisfying. Or pleasurable. Which may explain the so-far inexplicable. Not that there was anything wrong with it. He’d changed with the times, adjusted easily, especially when it came to people having more freedom in the area of sex without the harsh judgment that used to accompany such behavior.

  Waking with the dim streetlamp light filtering through the curtains, Nathan located his jeans on the floor next to the bed. He retrieved his cell phone and crept out to the living room of the small apartment, thinking to look through Chris’ Facebook page to confirm the suspicion. Before completing the search field, it occurred to Nathan: why not get the knowledge the same way he’d found Chris’ address when first deciding on him; burrow around some in his brain.

  It sure clarified a lot. It became obvious that part of the psyche couldn’t be controlled, or pushed into a new direction. Nathan was okay with the realization. He just knew it wasn’t right for him, not a constant diet of it anyway; though the occasional tryst might be welcome. The time to find yet another new, more consistently compatible self was in order. He’d have to let Chris go. But not before another good meal and securing a safe place to stash the truck while he looked. He intended to take an appropriate spell of time to get it right.

  He crept through the bedroom to the small bathroom. After a fast shower, he dressed, and then shook Stacey awake. After all, Nathan didn’t want to leave two people wondering what had gone wrong; he had been raised a proper gentleman with proper manners, not to be rude or unkind. “Sorry to wake you, but I do have to leave, now. I surely thank you for your hospitality.”

  Stacey never opened her eyes. “Mmm. You’re welcome. Maybe I’ll see you around again.”

  Nathan glanced at a row of large posters adorning the bedroom wall above a shelf containing a variety of wigs. “Mmm, not likely, but I guess you never know.”

  “Whatever,” Stacey mumbled and rolled, wrapping the blankets around his body to stave off the chill air. The wig, which had disengaged during the height of the encounter, tumbled off the side of the bed.

  Nathan let himself out and drove the city streets as a means of exploration. A couple hours later, dim shades of gray relinquished themselves as sunlight infused full color onto the palette of the world. On the west side of the river and south of where he’d spent the night, he noticed a string of people outside a delicatessen. With his stomach again rumbling requests, he pulled into the only parking space available around the corner. He paused to peer through the front window as he sought out the end of the line, and noticed one waitress dashing around taking orders, dropping menus, clearing dishes, doing her best to keep up with the crowds. He also saw plenty of deadheads pilfering; more coffee than anything else, but still…it told him all he needed to know. The food would be stellar.

  At the back of the procession, Nathan engaged in conversation and did his best to avoid eye contact with any of the numerous transparent beings who passed by. “It sure looks to be the place for breakfast,” he said to a woman who moved in behind him, and gestured to the twelve or so in front.

  “It is. Don’t worry about the line, though. I don’t know how she does it, but Tina gets them in and out pretty fast.”

  Leaning forward to watch through the window, Nathan could’ve told her. Two men she wouldn’t have been able to see, one with long, wild blond hair and the other with short, dark hair, hustled about keeping fresh coffee brewing and cleared dishes from the bus tub at the wait station. Anything they picked up winked out of sight of the living. If any of the live folks noticed, they gave no indication. What’s more, as long as cups stayed full and food arrived hot, they probably didn’t care.

>   Indeed, in less than thirty minutes Nathan found himself seated. The aroma of frying bacon and grilling sausage permeated the air of the packed diner. The clatter of dishes and flatware scraping plates, and loud conversations brought a smile to his face. A tad guilty about occupying a table for two, he motioned to the woman who stood behind him during the wait. “Ma’am? Care to come on over and sit a spell. I promise I don’t bite.”

  She returned his smile, shifted her weight to the opposite foot, and checked her watch. “Thanks, I’m just here to grab a coffee and bagel.” She turned her attention to the bakery case and a moment later moved to the counter to place her order.

  A menu dropped in front of him, and a female voice asked, “Coffee?” He responded in the affirmative. She filled the cup in front of him and swiveled on her feet as she said, “Be right back to take your order,” and scurried off to other customers.

  Moments later, “What can I get for you?”

  Nathan glanced at the name tag over her left breast. TINA in bold print and under that in smaller lettering, I’ll be your server today, she stood poised with pad and pen in hand. “Yes, ma’am. I believe I’ll try the corned beef hash, two eggs, scrambled, and some wheat toast. And a side of that bacon I smell?”

  Tina scribbled the order and said, “You got it,” without once actually looking at him.

  Nathan’s “Thank you kindly, ma’am,” received a grin before she spun away.

  He’d been right. A superb meal; the corned beef not too salty, the bacon crisp but not burned, the eggs scrambled to perfection in butter just like his Big Mama did when the cook took ill. After a deep breath, he let loose with a satisfied sigh. He leaned back to enjoy the coffee and realized a calm sanity had been restored; a few tables now sat empty. The two men who helped the waitress poured themselves coffee, filled a plate with four bagels, and joined a young couple already seated in a booth along the window.

  Nathan turned his attention to them, hoping to learn something more about this new sect of Keepers or Watchers or whatever they called themselves, though he shifted his gaze out the window to avoid seeming as if he could actually see and hear them.