🔥
Chapter 2: Welcome To The Working Dead
🔥

LIKE ANY PREVIOUS well-thought-out plan crafted by the Fordsman family, things didn't necessarily go to script. So, our foolproof plan to see my new workplace out the day after my mother's rare instance of approval was as good as anything that came out of our asses — absolute shit. The Old Man and I only had time to go on my first day there. We were already two hours late. So, anxiety had me by the throat.

"Please don't embarrass me."

I had been begging Grandpa Moe since we had left home twenty minutes ago. However, with him snug in the passenger seat, he had been examining his list of elderly incubuses to dine with for the night. My patience with him ran thinner than any of his prospective dates' blood on warfarin as I growled, "Grandpa... I'm serious."

"When have I ever embarrassed you?" spoke Grandpa Moe, breaking away from his device to scoff. "You've got your father for that."

I ignored his last snarky statement with clenched teeth and hissed, "You don't remember the soccer match incident where you set the other team's coach's hair on fire? How about when you put snakes in my first date's satchel because you thought 'I could do better'?" And the other hundred times that he messed up my so-called 'normal' life.

The potential terrorist burst out laughing, wiping a few tears away, then chimed, "Ah, those were some good times. You were so young and naïve."

"Grandpa Moe!"

"What, Zizi?"

"Do. Not. Embarrass. Me." I stared my grandpa down until he got the picture. "Promise me with your life before we leave the car!"

I don't know what got over me that a swarming wave of heat from my chest bubbled to the surface. Tongue-forked, my skin sprouted goldish-black scales as my nails grew into venomus limegreen claws that dug into the wheel. A furious itch burned my eyes, which meant they no longer exuded their natural warm hazelnut and were glowing red with rage.

"Woah! There, there -- fine!" He lifted his hands in mock defeat. "With a temper like that, no wonder you've been single all your life."

"Good," I hissed as I reverted to my human form. Pulling into the parking lot, I broke out into a winning smile. However, the old fart grew irksomely quiet. So, I followed his glance.

Eerie spiderwebs and wet dead leaves decorated the place like dust in an ancient library. The massive moldy bottle-green and grimy 'St Mary's Cemetery' signage above the droopy entrance dripped with some unknown dark sticky liquid that made my stomach churn. The rampant smell that infiltrated my poor car when I slid the windows down was the most putrid odor of chemicals yet and brought me back to the days of Aiko's and my chemistry mishap that shut down the whole science department.

Even the bit of sky just above the mortuary had a depressing grey and miserable hue of blue to it. Calling this place dead was an understatement. Heck, it was the epitome of death.

The whole scene hit us harder than it should have. So much so it was as though we were in a different dimension.

Almost breaking my neck, I snapped my head at Gramps and said, "I change my mind. Let's call in and say I died or something."

"Zizi?" Grandpa Moe smiled so innocently as he gestured to the funeral home. "They keep records of that shit here."

Without a care in the universe, the man stepped out of the car like he didn't hear me and made his way to the front entrance. As he wrapped his hand around the doorknob, I poked out my head from my window and hissed, "What are you doing? Get back here! Grandpa Moe!"

He turned to face me once last time, yelling loud enough to catch a few passersby's attention on an afternoon jog, "For goodness' sake, Missy! Stop making a fuss and get your wussy knickers out of the car."

Before I could even catch my breath, he had entered. At that point, all I could muster was a quick curse to the Heavens before sprinting after him, praying he hadn't caused World War III inside.

=🔥=

I was convinced I had been reincarnated in an Adam's Family special as I walked down the reception. The building's interior looked like something pulled out of a gothic sixties magazine.

Dark crimson drapes hung like giants from the ceiling. Old rustic wooden chairs decorated one side of the room, and every corner had a lit candle everywhere, like an opening ceremony in a cultish sacrifice. This scene was typical of an open casket service, but my nerves were the only things with eyes that day.

Creeping around the entrance, I noticed the backdoor behind the reception desk had been open the entire time. So I trod a little closer. The second that laughter erupted from the open space, I ceased and began my hurried retreat to the exit. I bashed my knee in a nearby trashcan. As pain bolted up my leg, I silently cursed my damn existence and hopped about like a constipated rabbit. However, when the pain finally subsided, I was a step away from the door when his gruff words of amusement froze me solid: "Hey, Miss Hop-kins. Come meet your new boss."

Dropping my injured leg, I spent a few seconds gathering my dignity from the floor, then turned to the two weathered bearded elders grinning at me. The large man beside my Gramps removed his gardening gloves and stretched his hand, singing, "Hello there, Jazlin. Welcome to the St Mary's Grave House. You can call me Sam Smit. Mr. Smit is fine too but only in-front of the older and more traditional folk."

"Um. Good afternoon ..." Not breaking eye contact, I shook his hand. Absent-mindedly, an intrusic thought slipped through, "Scrawny Smit?"

His belly laughter sent tremors through the joint, chasing away a black cat  resting on a nearby bookshelf. He had the classic 'earthquake' laugh every old demon soldier had, loud and hearty.

He wiped a tear and cackled, "Well, I used to be back in the good ole day."

It took a second to register. But when it did, my cheeks burned from embarrassment. I couldn't believe I had said that out loud.

As I took back my hand, a sheepish smile slid onto my lips, along with an apology. "I'm s-sorry. That wasn't very polite of me."

"No offense taken." Sam waved it off with a relaxed "I have heard worse in my time. But apologizing for that? Why, aren't you such a sweet girl, just like her father!"

"Oh, don't remind us," jeered Grandpa. Sam found Grandpa's reaction hilarious while I jabbed the old geezer, who I was counting down the days to ship him to a nursing home, in the gut. That achieved his vengeful eye. Sam continued to enjoy himself as all this played out, which only deepened the red of my burning ears.

Grandpa Moe and Sam talked a little more about their old days, reminiscing their many adventures. It was all crazy stuff I imagined my grandpa was the mastermind behind. However, some of their tales took me by surprise when they confirmed that not-so-scrawny Sam had taken the lead. The old demonic blokes had a hell of a time catching up, but the conversation didn't bring money. So, Gramps dismissed himself soon after and said he would pick me up later while Sam proceeded with a tour of the place, starting with the bathrooms and the reception area. After some time in the mailroom we made it to the supply room.

"Again, young missy, this" — he revealed an array of different machinery and gadgetry beneath us — "is where you find tools to keep this place in tip-top shape. I know it doesn't look that way yet, but once you and Min get out there, it shouldn't be as bad."

"Min?" For some reason, it didn't occur to me that another person was working under him.

"Yes, Armin. My grandson from Germany," he explained as we made our way outside and into the back of the graveyard. "The young lad is here for the break to help me out and stay out of trouble for a bit."

"Oh, I see."

"Yes, during the day, it'll be groundwork for the both of you. Then, when nighttime falls, he'll be in charge of all the mail going to the underworld, and you'll take care the deliveries in the human world."

Something told me that my allocation in the human realm was something he had discussed with Gramps before he left. He and Mom had been pretty adamant on that point -- since it was the sole reason of our agreement to me working here. However, that didn't matter because, right then, I had much graver issues at hand...

"What did you mean about him staying out of trouble?" The last time I checked babysitting wasn't part of the deal.

"Yeah, you know how young demons are when they entering their prime," he joked — or warned — I couldn't tell. "They can't stick their heads in nothing but trouble."

Just as I was about to ask to be compensated monetarily for the extra chilkd labor, a young fair-skinned man with dark hair and even darker eyes stepped out from behind one of the trees a few feet ahead of us, pushing a fully loaded barrow of damp dead leaves. He had the same dark, piercing eyes his grandfather had, but, unlike Sam's full-of-life ones, his were cold and distant and just screamed, 'Leave me the hell alone!' on repeat.

It was a typical facade of older teenage boys, and I supposed the kid was no exception.

"Speaking of the devil, here he is!" Sam sang with pride. "Min, come meet your fellow workmate."

With eyes as lifeless as a corpse, he sighed and then mumbled, "Hey."

"Hi, I'm Jazlin." I tried adding half the energy Sam dished out, but even that took all my strength. "Can't wait to work with you!"

Armin looked at his grandfather, then at me before returning his way with a scrunched noise, blurting. "Igitt! Ugh, she reeks of tainted human. Is she possessed or ...?"

I shrugged to confirm his thoughts, and I instantly regretted it. His eyes widened, and he gawked at me with such intensity I started feeling uncomfortable.

"Das gibt's doch nicht -- no fucken way!  Are you what I think you are?"

There was one thing I didn't like being: a spectacle. Almost all my dad's friends and his family members were so intrigued that I was an actual —

"Demi-demon in the flesh people." I grumbled, "Take a picture. It lasts longer."

The German boy lights up with excitement, almost drooling at the thought. "Cool, I've never met one before. I have only heard of them in folktales in the underworld. Did you know that roughly 98.7% of them — "

"Perish before they turn five days old," I finished for him. I had heard the same fact from my cousins at least a thousand times since they all had a memory of a damn goldfish. "Yeah, I know."

Thankfully, my boss had more working braincells than his grand-twit and immediately picked up my vocal cues then asked his grandson to come with him quickly. Armin handed over the overworked shovel and slimy gloves to me.

As I watched them walk away, Sam appeared to be scolding him by Min's expressions. Surprised, the boy seemed apologetic about the matter as the exchange progressed. They were kind enough to spare me from their conversation. However, I knew what they were going on about.

It was the same reason my father never let me go schooling in the underworld or why my mother forbade me to play with other kids at the playground growing up until I matured a little: I wasn't normal in either world. I was odd ... and sometimes, I wondered if I would always be alone.

|
🔥