Mitchell and Carl managed to leave the club before the authorities arrived, but they couldn't help stopping and staring at the flashing lights from a block down.
"You'd think they'd never seen someone dive headfirst from a balcony before," Mitchell said.
"A man died," Carl said. "Have some respect."
They turned and started to walk away.
"Oi!" a voice shouted from the direction of the club. They looked at each other, recognizing it as Headphones immediately. When they turned back to look, he was closer than they'd expected; as he had run up the pavement, his feet had made no sound.
"Wait," Headphones said, leaning forward as if to catch his breath, although he wasn't out of breath at all. "Wait just a minute." He raised a finger. "You two can see me."
"Oh," Carl said," Well -"
"You're the only ones who can see me." He glared at them. "So, what, are you dead, too?"
Carl glanced at Mitchell. "You could say that."
"But I saw you. I saw both of you outside the club before I … when I was definitely alive."
"Yeah," Mitchell said. "It's complicated."
They stood there staring at each other for what seemed like several minutes before, without discussion, all three started walking toward Carl's place. Carl wasn't happy about it, but what could he say? If a ghost decides to follow you home, there's not much you can do about it.
"What's you're name, anyway?" Mitchell asked Headphones.
"Oh," Headphones said. "Name's Gilbert."
They sat in Carl's flat, Mitchell and Carl on one sofa and Gilbert on the other, staring at each other. Just staring. Every few minutes, someone would ask a question, and they would talk for a few minutes, until the next conversation lull came along.
Gilbert leaned forward. "So when you say 'vampires,'" he said. "You mean like actual bloodsucking killers?" He looked from Carl to Mitchell. "You're murderers? If I was still alive , would you kill me?"
"Oh... No," Mitchell said.
"You wouldn't even be here right now if you were alive," Carl said, with a forced smile. He got up and walked to the kitchen.
Mitchell watched Carl walk away and turned to Gilbert. "Can you excuse us for just a minute?"
"It's all the same to me," Gilbert said, pulling his headphones over his ears.
Mitchell followed Carl into the kitchen. "You could try to be nice."
Carl pulled a bottle of wine from the cabinet. "He's in my flat, Mitchell. I didn't invite him, he just came right in and made himself at home. It makes me very uncomfortable."
"He just died."
Carl lowered his voice. "What if he doesn't leave? What if he decides to... haunt us? We were the first people he saw after he died... maybe we're stuck with him."
"We were the only people who could see him. That's all. Maybe he just wants some company while he gets it sorted out. Didn't you want some company when you died?"
"Well, yes," Carl said. "But we're not the same. We don't even know what he could do."
Mitchell looked at him. "I had no idea you were afraid of ghosts, Carl."
Carl twisted a corkscrew into the wine bottle. "I'm not afraid of ghosts." He yanked out the cork. "I've just never had one in the house before." He poured two glasses.
"Aren't you going to pour one for Gilbert?"
"This is a 1966 Chateau Palmer," Carl said. "I'm not wasting it on a ghost."
Mitchell narrowed his eyes at him and downed his glass in one gulp, knowing Carl would find it just as wasteful.
"I'll be in the living room," he said.
Gilbert sat, eyes closed, rocking his head back and forth to the sounds coming from his Walkman. It occurred to Mitchell that Gilbert's Walkman - his real one - was left in the twisted pile that was Gilbert's body. He could hear the muffled but distinctive strains of "How Soon is Now?" coming from the headphones.
I guess you can take it with you, he thought.
Gilbert took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled, eyes still closed. Mitchell stepped toward him cautiously and waved his hand through the smoke. Cold. He crossed his arms and stared at him for longer than would ever be deemed polite.
Gilbert blinked and looked at Mitchell, giving him a start. "Are you done, then?"
Mitchell cleared his throat self-consciously. "Yeah. Yeah. Can I get you anything? A coffee? Tea?"
"You wouldn't have a copy of Marc Almond's Stories of Johnny?"
Mitchell opened his mouth and paused longer than he meant to. "I do not," he said.
"Nothing for me, thanks."
Mitchell sat down next to Gilbert and pulled one of his own cigarettes from the pack.
"So," Gilbert said, flicking a ghost-ash into the air, "are you two boyfriends or something?'
Mitchell lit his cigarette and exhaled sharply. "Yeah... 'or something.' It's complicated, to be -" he stopped himself. He didn't even know Gilbert. "What about you?"
"Oh, I'm celibate."
"A celibate atheist."
"I'm also a vegetarian."
"Huh." Mitchell paused. "Actually, I could see getting a lot of girls that way."
Gilbert gave him a bemused look. "Hedonism is nothing but a prison, Mitchell. 'Great pain is the ultimate liberator of the spirit.'"
"Nietzsche," Mitchell said, with a nod. "Not an atheist, by the way."
"Well, neither am I at this point."
Mitchell smiled. "So, what are you going to do now?"
"Maybe I'll haunt Thatcher."
"That could be fun."
Gilbert shook his head. "There's nothing fun about Thatcher."
Carl entered the room, wine glass in hand. "I'll be heading to bed." He took a sip. "Gilbert, you can go back to the club at any time."
"Back to the club?" Mitchell said. "Now?"
"I think it might be a good idea, in case his... passageway opens up."
Mitchell stood up to face him. "What difference does it make? If he's here, the door will just show up here."
"I don't think it works that way, Mitchell."
"I'm pretty sure it is how it works."
Gilbert looked back and forth between Carl and Mitchell as they talked. "What door?"
"Isn't that why ghosts haunt the places where they die? So they can be there when it comes?" Carl said.
"It has nothing to do with where they die -"
"How can it have nothing to do with where they die?"
Gilbert stood up. "What door?"
Carl and Mitchell looked at Gilbert.
"You have to cross over, Gilbert," Mitchell said.
"Oh, not me. I'm staying here."
Carl winced. "Here?"
Gilbert looked at him. "Planet Earth."
Author's Notes: References in this chapter:
"How Soon is Now" by The Smiths, from the 1985 album 'Meat Is Murder'
'Stories of Johnny' by Marc Almond, released in September 1985
Quote "[Only] great pain is the ultimate liberator of the spirit" - Friedrich Nietzsche, 'The Gay Science,' 1882.
