Free Ghost Reaper Episode 2 by Drew Adams Page A

like we remember ourselves
before we died."
    "I
was expecting something more old school. You a spiritual man, Bill?”
    “ I
don’t know...went to church, but to be honest, the wife had to drag
me there. Never thought much about it really. Figured there must be a
higher power, but the whole thing seemed sort of put on to me, so I
went along with it to keep the old lady happy. Damn, this’ll kill
her. What do I tell my wife?”
    “ I
don’t know Bill, unless the shock does kill her, I don’t expect
you’ll be speaking with her."
    An
uncomfortable pause followed. Chad fought the regret creeping up his
throat. Some
minister I'd have been. Really comforting words, Dowdry.
    Bill
was staring at his ex-self. Chad stared anywhere but at Bill, and was
about to try and get his foot
out of his mouth when his fellow ghost spoke.
    "So...what
do we do now?"
    Some
part of his mind had been thinking about that. Seemed like there
ought to be other lost souls out there in the same fix. People die
everyday, maybe they could find someone that had figured some of it
out. His instincts told him to keep moving. Staying put solved
nothing.
    "I
think we should leave here, see if we can find some help."
    "Leave?
Where in the blazes you want to go? Don't you think we're a little
past help?" The big man's voice faltered.
    "What...you
just want to hang out here...haunt the place?"
    "I
think I want to go see my wife."
    Another
awkward pause ensued. Chad thought that was a bad idea ."Okay —
how much of a walk are we talking about?"
    "Who
said anything about walking?"
    "You
thinking about driving?"
    "Riding.
My Harley’s out back.”
    "Uh,
Bill, I guess you haven't considered it, but I think we're like —
invisible."
    "Aw...well...screw
'em if they can't take a joke."
    Chad
smiled, you just had to love the guy. "Alright man...let's
ride."
    The
former owner of the diner stooped his 6'4" frame over, retrieved
two helmets from under the counter, and tossed one to Chadwick. It
slipped through his hands as if it was buttered. He reached for it
and with considerable effort, picked it up and placed the piece of
equipment on his head. Perfect fit, but it didn't feel right.
    "What
good are these things gonna do us?" Chad asked.
    Bill
chuckled, "I was hoping they would make it seem like the bike
wasn't just driving itself." He stepped over his former self and
went through two swinging doors
    That
made as much sense as anything else. Chad shrugged his shoulders and
followed him; At the back door Bill let him go first, then began
searching his pockets. Confused wrinkles creased his ample forehead.
    "What?"
Chad asked, the word brimmed with impatience. The anxiety he had
carried since the accident was mounting, the chill chillier. All in
all, this was a bad day and it was starting to get on his last nerve.
    “ Can’t
find my keys. Always keep 'em in my pocket.”
    “ Yeah...”
Chad answered, remembering his missing lighter. “...some things
don’t seem to make the transition." Bill's forehead furled
again, he went back through the double doors and returned jangling
the keys. He stood there a moment, taking in his beloved diner, then
strode to bike and hoisted one tree trunk of a leg over his hog. Chad
climbed on behind him. The big man was built like a board straight up
and down.
    It’s
a sure bet, I’m not gonna be able to see around him.
    Bill
pressed the start button and the engine roared: couple of twists of
the throttle sent rumblings bouncing in and out of the nearby hills.
    Come
on man...let‘s not advertise.
    He
eased off the clutch and the Harley rocketed around and out of the
parking lot. Chad clinched the man’s waist, noticing he still had
the apron on.
    ***
    Charlie
Spence and Edgar Evans drove from town to Bill’s diner everyday at
three in the afternoon. They would play checkers or dominoes, and
spread their bull around. If it was a slow day Bill would join them.
If not they went on without him. Sometimes they even lent a hand.