Read Online After Life by Andrew Neiderman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Andrew Neiderman
Ads: Link
the bathroom to dab her face with some cold water.
Afterward, feeling somewhat revived, she headed for the kitchen. But as
soon as she entered it she heard something that took her to the side
window, the one facing the cemetery.
She worked it open to hear better and listened.
There was more digging going on, but now it was much closer to the
house. How many people could have passed away? she wondered. It was
creepy living right beside a cemetery like this, she thought. Perhaps
it would be better to talk to Lee about finding them someplace else. She
closed the window and went to prepare the dinner.
After she set the table, she went into the living room to listen to the
news, but before she turned it on, she heard the patter of footsteps on
the patio and then the porch. From the pace of the gait, she knew it
was old man Carter. Although they had hardly spoken up to now, she
thought it would be nice to have a friendly relationship with their
upstairs neighbor. She went to the apartment front door and opened it
just as he entered the house.
Mr. Carter? she said from her doorway. She could smell the scent of
freshly dug earth.
Hello, he said. He closed the heavy, oak door behind him.
You had a lot of work to do today? she asked, smiling. Even though he
was only a few feet from her she couldn't get a sense of him the way she
usually could get a sense of someone. It was as if she were speaking to
a voice with no body. It unnerved her and she embraced herself quickly,
for the pause between her question and his reply seemed endless.
No more than usual, he finally said. Some prunin'
some trimmin'.
Oh? I thought. . . I mean, I just assumed you were preparing some
new graves today. All that digging, she added.
Diggin'? I didn't do any diggin' today, Mrs. Over street. Nobody new
died. Yet, he added.
But I could have sworn . . .
Got enough hot water? he asked.
What? Oh, yes.
Sometimes that damn hot-water heater don't kick in and I gotta go down
to the basement and hit the restart button. No sense callin' Charley
DeGroot if you don't have hot water. Just call me. He'll only call me
anyway, Carter added. She heard him take the first step.
Oh, thank you. I bet you were wondering what all that commotion was
late last night, she said quickly.
He stopped on the stairway.
Commotion?
Someone got drunk and fell out of his truck right out in front here. We
had to phone the police.
Never heard a thing, he said. I sleep better than the dead, he added,
and laughed. I know. I hear them tossin' and turnin' all night out
there.
He continued up the stairway. She started to close the door when she
caught a whiff of that horrendous stench again. It seemed to move past
her, following the old man. In seconds it was gone and all that
remained was the lingering scent of freshly dug earth.
Why did he say he wasn't doing any digging? She distinctly heard it. If
he wasn't digging in the cemetery, who was?
After she closed the door, she stood there listening to the sound of the
old man's footsteps now above her. Yes, she said to herself, there it
was again. His footsteps and then that shuffling. There's definitely
someone up there with him, someone who could use a bath.
She went into the living room and tried listening to the news, but her
mind kept drifting. She replayed some of her conversation with Tracy
Baker. She had heard something in Tracy's voice, something more than
disappointment or depression, something that had suggested fear. The
Bakers had been married nearly fifteen years and they had no children.
Jessie had been wanting to ask her about that, but since Tracy hadn't
brought up the subject, she thought she would wait until she became
better acquainted. Her experience was that people volunteered
information about their personal lives freely these days.
They didn't need much encouragement. It was
Afterward, feeling somewhat revived, she headed for the kitchen. But as
soon as she entered it she heard something that took her to the side
window, the one facing the cemetery.
She worked it open to hear better and listened.
There was more digging going on, but now it was much closer to the
house. How many people could have passed away? she wondered. It was
creepy living right beside a cemetery like this, she thought. Perhaps
it would be better to talk to Lee about finding them someplace else. She
closed the window and went to prepare the dinner.
After she set the table, she went into the living room to listen to the
news, but before she turned it on, she heard the patter of footsteps on
the patio and then the porch. From the pace of the gait, she knew it
was old man Carter. Although they had hardly spoken up to now, she
thought it would be nice to have a friendly relationship with their
upstairs neighbor. She went to the apartment front door and opened it
just as he entered the house.
Mr. Carter? she said from her doorway. She could smell the scent of
freshly dug earth.
Hello, he said. He closed the heavy, oak door behind him.
You had a lot of work to do today? she asked, smiling. Even though he
was only a few feet from her she couldn't get a sense of him the way she
usually could get a sense of someone. It was as if she were speaking to
a voice with no body. It unnerved her and she embraced herself quickly,
for the pause between her question and his reply seemed endless.
No more than usual, he finally said. Some prunin'
some trimmin'.
Oh? I thought. . . I mean, I just assumed you were preparing some
new graves today. All that digging, she added.
Diggin'? I didn't do any diggin' today, Mrs. Over street. Nobody new
died. Yet, he added.
But I could have sworn . . .
Got enough hot water? he asked.
What? Oh, yes.
Sometimes that damn hot-water heater don't kick in and I gotta go down
to the basement and hit the restart button. No sense callin' Charley
DeGroot if you don't have hot water. Just call me. He'll only call me
anyway, Carter added. She heard him take the first step.
Oh, thank you. I bet you were wondering what all that commotion was
late last night, she said quickly.
He stopped on the stairway.
Commotion?
Someone got drunk and fell out of his truck right out in front here. We
had to phone the police.
Never heard a thing, he said. I sleep better than the dead, he added,
and laughed. I know. I hear them tossin' and turnin' all night out
there.
He continued up the stairway. She started to close the door when she
caught a whiff of that horrendous stench again. It seemed to move past
her, following the old man. In seconds it was gone and all that
remained was the lingering scent of freshly dug earth.
Why did he say he wasn't doing any digging? She distinctly heard it. If
he wasn't digging in the cemetery, who was?
After she closed the door, she stood there listening to the sound of the
old man's footsteps now above her. Yes, she said to herself, there it
was again. His footsteps and then that shuffling. There's definitely
someone up there with him, someone who could use a bath.
She went into the living room and tried listening to the news, but her
mind kept drifting. She replayed some of her conversation with Tracy
Baker. She had heard something in Tracy's voice, something more than
disappointment or depression, something that had suggested fear. The
Bakers had been married nearly fifteen years and they had no children.
Jessie had been wanting to ask her about that, but since Tracy hadn't
brought up the subject, she thought she would wait until she became
better acquainted. Her experience was that people volunteered
information about their personal lives freely these days.
They didn't need much encouragement. It was
Similar Books
