As Albert climbed out from his window onto his water tower perch, he fell in love with the city all over again. It happened every night, for everything was different when the sun sunk behind the buildings and the lights flickered on. When the sun shone it was nothing but a grey anthill, hardly interesting in it’s colorless sprawl as the heat of the day cooked the cement. However the city became a creature all it’s own at night. Neon made it shimmer like winking eyes. The heat and toil was replaced with cool breezes and carefree behavior. It’s veins pulsated with yellow headlights, and it’s mouth was the mouth of thousands. It breathed, it laughed, it cried, it moved with every cell that made it up.
Albert steadied himself, surveying the street below, smiling absently. He swore the air even tasted different at night, like a sweet kiss. However as he adjusted his glasses the bearded, pale surveyor took a deep breath to collect his nerves. His eagerness to come out and walk amongst the simpletons always got him ahead of himself. Then again he yearned for a terrifically dull night, and lulled himself by thinking there may be no need for him that night. Albert would simply go about his hours of darkness meandering and watching the regular people careen about their Saturday night in their usual blur of chaos and heedlessness. Perhaps chat with his regulars, but nothing too critical.
“Albert!” A thin, eager voice pierced the air.
“Liza?” He looked towards the navy space where he had heard the utterance. His hopes for the mundane dashed by the anxiety in the tone. Liza’s head appeared first, then the rest of her appeared. She was sylphlike in build, yet gauzy in presentation as thin ropes of the ether billowed out from around her. She was new to the hereafter and had yet to learn to properly materialize.
“Sorry that took so long.” She said, frustrated with her own presentation. “But there’s a stiff up by the park. He passed a minute ago but he can’t get out of the body.”
“Trapped soul?” Albert’s thick black eyebrow arched skeptically. “That’s rare.” He sniffed.
“Well,” Liza’s doe like eyes darted down to where her bare feet hovered above the busy street. “we think he doesn’t want to come out.”
“Did you talk to him?” Albert asked, shifting his weight more towards the window.
“I tried, but I think he was scared he was dead and talking to a ghost.” She mumbled in defeat. “But you need to hurry up, you don’t have much time to ease him out before they come and take his body away.”
“Alright, let me get my things.” Albert said as he began to climb back in the window “Meet me there.”
“See you soon.” Liza’s voice dissipated as she turned into nothing more than a crisp huff of air.
***
When Albert reached the park, blue and red lights bounced off the trees. He slowed down as he heard the voices of the paramedics and the clacking of gear being hastily unloaded from their ambulance from beyond a hedge. Tugging on the strap of the satchel he had brought along, he paused briefly at the base of an oak to see if he could find a vantage point. The brush blocked his view just enough to make considering placement difficult.
“This is what happens when you live so high up.” Liza said.
“I can’t help it, the view’s nice.” Albert quipped as he tilted his head up to see her in the oak’s branches. Some of the other wanderers of the hereafter were with her up in the tree, less billowy in presence, but translucent none the less. They were like a dozen or so birds roosting; clustered together and gazing down at the mortal.
“Why’s he so scared?” Betty chirped like a little chiffon robin. “It’s swell out of those old meat sacks.”
“Not everyone takes to it so easily.” Wes lisped out.
“You better go help ‘em.” The burly Jack exclaimed in his deep voice. “He’s really scared. You gotta pull him out, Al.”
“Easier said then done.” Albert sighed as he left the tree. He felt a chill as they began appearing around him, following him as a curious gossamer crowd. “No," He swatted the air "everyone stay behind. I don’t need an audience.”
The wisps reluctantly disappeared, helping to boost his confidence. While no normal person could see them, he still didn’t need so many looking over his shoulder. As he trampled through some brush over to the site, Albert stopped where he was sheltered by the hedge from prying eyes. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he took a moment to study the situation.
“I’m not getting a pulse here.” One paramedic said, shaking his head as he set the equipment down.
"Alright, call it in while I get the bag." Said the other, standing up and heading over to the open back end of the ambulance.
“I’m going to need to get a good grip.” Albert muttered to himself as he studied the grey, limp husk they were hunched over. Beyond the young clean shaven figure, beyond the blood and the exit wound in the chest, he could see the soul huddled inside. Taking a jar out of his satchel, he unscrewed the cap and took a glob of a viscus substance out. Capping it he quickly tucked it back into the bag before rubbing the substance into his hands. His nose twitched to the odor his palms began to reek of. "He'll be a Frank."Albert drew a ragged breath before sprinting forward from the safety of the hedge. “My god, FRANK?!”
“What the-” The paramedics were caught off guard at the spindly man in the tuque lurching towards the body.
“FRANK?!” Albert pushed the one still near the body aside and gripped the curled, chilling hand. “FRANK IS THAT REALLY YOU?!” He shook the body with his free hand, pressing harder into the palm with the other. Sure enough, he felt it. Like a cobweb delicately clinging to his fingers.
“Sir you need to get back!” The paramedics both barked in unison as the one at the vehicle raced back.
"NO! NO! THAT CAN'T BE YOU FRANK!" Albert pressed more, getting a better grip on his cobweb. "Come on, just let go." He hissed under his breath.
"SIR GET OFF." They yelled, grasping him by the back of his jacket.
“COME ON!” Albert kept a hold on the cobweb as he broke character. While he flew briefly through the air he saw the formless puff of ether come along with him. Landing shoulder first, he skidded on the grass to a halt. Unable to afford the luxury of leaving, Albert kept hold of his new charge, bounced to his feet and darted off into the brush before the paramedics could call for backup.
Albert was quick to put some distance between himself and the paramedics before he stopped to catch his breath. Huffing for oxygen, he slumped onto an abandoned park bench and gazed at the line he was holding. The amorphous cloud attached to it slowly began to sculpt itself into a figure. The poor soul’s eyes were sunken with horror, and if they could it was clear they would be weeping.
“Why did you do that?” The soul trembled, fading in and out of focus. “I don’t want to leave, I have-”
“Shhh.” Albert kept a firm hold of him. “I’m sorry, really, but you wouldn’t have wanted to be nestled in there when they preformed the autopsy. Or when they cremated you, or sunk you in the ground or anything.”
“But-I-I wasn’t ready.” He whimpered, turning nearly clear in the process.
“No one ever is.” Albert reassured, having pity on the new thing before him. “Can I take you home and talk to you?”
He planted his chin to his chest, curling further into himself.
“What’s your name?” Albert asked softly.
“Geoff.” He mumbled.
“Geoff, I can help you. But we need to talk in a place where I don’t look crazy to everyone else.” Albert said.
Geoff paused, his eyes darting back and forth in consideration “Wh-what’s your name?”
“Albert.”
Geoff looked up before looking back at Albert. “Albert, there’s,” he rolled his lips into his mouth before forcing the rest out “ghosts above us. They’re watching us.”
Albert gave a lopsided smile, biting back a chuckle. “I know, it tends to happen.”
“You’re a ghost too silly!” Betty shouted from where she hovered above.
“Will you shut up?” Jack hissed.
“Alright, all of you go off and haunt somewhere.” Albert ordered with a roll of his eyes. “Geoff and I are talking in private.”
***
“How can you see me?” Geoff asked as looked out of the window of Albert’s apartment in the poorly kept building. The water tower built practically on top of the structure obscured most of the view, but what could be seen was beautiful. “How-how can you touch me?” Geoff turned around. His were eyes like large puddles rippling out into the rest of his form. “You took me out.”
“I’m what they call a Necromancer.” Albert responded in a matter-of-fact voice as he poured some coffee from the listlessly decorated kitchenette. The entire space was rather dreary, grey and practical.
“I thought those only spoke to the dead.” The soul said as he moved himself closer to the peculiar man.
“Some do, but I’m from a long line of people in the industry." Albert explained before taking a long pull of his coffee. "I know a little more than your average necromancer.”
“There’s an industry?” Geoff gawked, blowing himself back a bit in the process.
“A very small one.” Albert shrugged. “What matters though is I’m here to help you transition.”
“To what?” Geoff put out more fog than before, unstable and unready.
“Whatever you’re to transition to when you’re ready. You can move on, you can reincarnate, you can haunt, whatever suits you.” Albert explained with a scratch of his chin. “I really wish I had been able to coax you out of your shell instead of yanking you out like that. It would make this a lot easier to take”
Geoff tilted his chin down and left out an airless sigh.
“I’m sorry, but I just didn’t have the time." Albert apologized as sincerely as he could. Tracing his thin fingers around the rim of his mug, he bit the inside of his cheek in guilt. "I know that’s going to make the beginning rougher than it should be.”
“I had a lot of life left.” He muttered, threatening to float away into nothingness.
“Your type’s the worst kind.” The necromancer admitted. Training his eyes downward, he studied the pale woodgrain of his floor. “But there’s a lot beyond the corporeal. It’ll take some time to let that sink in.”
Geoff turned and gazed out the window again onto the shining city. “And there are others?”
“Quite a few.” With his mug Albert gestured out to the city beyond. “They’re good souls for the most part. Wanderers, haven’t quite found their transition.”
“They seemed alright.” Geoff skeptically mumbled.
“Yes, they mean well.” Albert said before another sip. “You can’t take Betty too seriously though, she may look young but that’s her soul. She died when she was ninety-two and thinks this whole thing’s the bees-knees. Her words, not mine.”
fin
I think this one is reaching a bit, but it's a warm up comp and isn't that what those are for? From io9's O-deck Creative Challenge.
originally posted Feb 8 2012
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