It’s warm and damp, with the same tropical feel as the mall’s atrium. My eyes slowly adjust to the room. Furred fungus on the walls glows faintly. Eidolon Whiskers. We had something like it Downtown. I look back at the opening in the wall where I fell through. It’s not real. It’s a phantom. A ghost wall like the one hiding the room in Hell where I first found the 8 Ball.
In a few minutes I can almost see my hand in front of my face. Then shapes in the room. I’m in the middle of a maze of improvised graves and tombs built from debris that landed here during the collapse. Someone has cobbled together a cemetery for whoever was trapped here. If this is a boneyard, I have a bad feeling about who’s been laughing at me this whole time.
“Hey, dead guys. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Gray wisps circle me. Faces resolve themselves for a second or two, then break apart into smoke.
“There you are. Why did you grab me? What did I ever do to you?”
“It was fun.”
“We were bored.”
“You were clumsy.”
“You’re alive. That’s offense enough.”
I shake my head.
“Is this one of those ‘we’re-dead-and-that-makes-the-living-our-enemy’ situations, ’cause seriously . . . ? That’s the best you could come up with?”
“It’s not smart to mock us.”
“I’m not mocking you. Hell, I’m on your side. I’ve been dead too. A couple of times. I know how much it sucks. Come on. We’re on the same team here.”
“We will be soon.”
More chuckles from the peanut gallery.
“You will never leave here.”
“You know you’re not the first dead assholes to threaten me, right?”
“No. We’re the last.”
“I see why you were bored before. You’re boring. You’re boring ghosts and that’s just sad. You have all day to figure out spooky stuff and all you’ve come up with is ‘boohoo we’re dead and everyone with TiVo has to die.’ ”
“You’re going to die.”
“Yeah, excuse me while I ignore you.” I see shadows overhead. I shout, “Hey. I’m down here goddammit.”
“They can’t hear you.”
“Stop shouting. It’s annoying.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bad guest. By the way, you know I’m going pee in one of the corners in a few hours, right? I mean, it’s just biology. I can’t help it.”
Ghosts swirl around me again. When the faces resolve themselves this time, they don’t look happy.
I touch the wall to see if I can find any hand- or footholds. My hand comes back wet and slimy, covered in Eidolon Whiskers. The wall is way too slippery. No way I’m climbing out. I can’t see doors or openings of any kind. I take out Mason’s lighter. If I can make enough of a shadow, maybe I can come out to somewhere above and find the others.
“Adios, crybabies.”
I flick it on and get closer to the wall. The room is dark, but even so, the light is feeble. I hold the lighter up higher, looking for the best angle. The next second, the ghosts are all over me, whirling around my head and flying through the lighter flame. It goes out. I spark it again. They come back, blowing through the flame like a fucking annoying breeze, snuffing it out. I try cupping my hand around it, but they squeeze between my fingers and douse it again. I put the lighter back in my pocket. It was never going to work anyway. It just wasn’t bright enough.
The ghosts are cackling up a storm. An easy crowd. And I wasn’t even using my A material.
“You invaded our home and now you’ll die here.”