Chapter Nine: Racing Against the Clock
Beetlejuice was kicked out of the building. He could have been arrested, but Death, out of the "kindness of his heart", pardoned my friend, saying that "The poor ghoul was just having a bad day." For the hours until my lunch break, I kept my nose in the Handbook. I read the chapter on the lives of ghosts. It said that for five earth years, an immortal had to remain in its own house before it could move to the Neitherworld permanently. Most dead people awoke near their houses and, once they entered the house, they were not allowed to leave. Immediately following that chapter was one on the "special cases", also known as the people who committed suicide. Unlike regular dead people, "suiciders" entered the Neitherworld through the Eternity Ward. From there we went to work. Most people went to work at fast food restaurants. The lucky ones got jobs as secretaries. Those who had professional training, like in nursing or accounting, just continued their jobs in the afterlife. Suiciders could work their ways up to highly esteemed positions, such as to the job of a social worker. Those people were Death's buddies, and it was good to be close to Death.
I was about to begin the next section of the chapter entitled, "The Law and You," when I was interrupted by Death's voice over the intercom. He told me that I was allowed to go on my lunch break. I hissed, "Yessssss," through my teeth and sprinted out the door, shuffling towards the elevator as quickly as I could. I managed to stop the elevator doors from closing by reaching out my arm and holding it in the closing space. The confused doors pulled away from each other and I snuck inside. I bumped into something cylindrical. When I looked down I saw that it was one of those rolling trashcans that janitors have. Clinging to the can were cleaning objects, such as two types of mops, a broom, cleaning spray, a sponge, and some old ragged cloths. I eyed the cleaning supplies for a moment, and then my eyes trailed up to the ghostly janitor.
The hunched man was colored a sickly green. From the way his eyes were squinted I could tell that he was Asian. The janitors at school tended to be Hispanic or Asian most of the time. My gaze was glued to the man. His uniform was a navy blue tee-shirt, tan cargo pants, and a navy and black baseball cap. He rested his chin on the end of the mop in his hands, staring quietly at the wall. When I looked at his neck, I saw rope burns that were similar to the ones around the old secretary's neck. People sure liked to hang themselves. I found my right hand resting over my stationary heart. I knew that below the leather corset was a line of stitched together skin. Why did this man kill himself? Was he unsatisfied with his life? Did he think that the afterlife would give him a better future?
I got off at my floor and watched the doors swallow up the man. The library was open, as it promised, and I stepped in. My Handbook was tucked safely under my left arm, swaying with the swinging movement my arms displayed when I walked. I went straight to the "Social Studies" section of the library to see what I could find. Under Psychology, I found a few books on the mental and bodily effects of exorcism. When I looked at the "History" section, I picked up three books on the history of the practice.
I sat at a desk located in a dark corner of the library and began my work. Time was running away from me. There was no way to take it back, so I had to work extra hard. The books explaining the effects of exorcism proved to be worthless to my cause and I tossed them aside. It was one o'clock, time to get back to work, when I finished looking through the first history book. I took the history texts back to the office and studied for most of the remaining work hours. Customers started rolling in again. I often had to put my books down to answer a phone call and schedule or cancel an appointment. Lots of people came up to me and I answered most of them in one-word responses without removing my eyes from the pages I was reading. At one point, Death asked if he could borrow my Handbook for a few moments. I couldn't refuse this request, so I handed it over. He came back a few minutes later and placed it on my desk without a word.
Exorcism, though horrifying, was quite an intriguing subject. Its original purpose was to drive evil spirits out of the mortal bodies they possessed. Though it was usual performed by living priests, anyone could execute the complicated rituals, including those who had died. Once a spirit was driven away, it would go to a place called "The Lost Souls Room" where it would be tortured for eternity. It was the death penalty of the Neitherworld. Over the past twenty years, exorcisms were being performed rapidly, making the room quite crowded. Spirits were being exorcised for breaking random rules. At one point a waiting line had to be established. Only the special cases, such as Adam and Barbara, went straight to the front. If I failed to find a way to steal my soul from Beetlejuice, he would be exorcised immediately.
Only one book mentioned a way of stopping an exorcism from occurring. The chapter on it was only two pages and explained that one had to make a deal with Death. I could have told you that!
I piled the three books on the right side of my desk and went back to scheduling appointments. My eyes constantly darted to the clock on the wall. Five hours left. Four hours left. Three and a half hours left. The sky outside gradually darkened, as did my hopes. All of my research was a waste of time. I wasn't going to be able to find a solution in time.
The day was winding down. During the last hour of the office's open period we only had one customer and a waiter from the third floor restaurant (who was bringing Death's dinner). The office always closed at five, though I had to stay until six to prepare for the next day. I curled up in my leather-padded wheeled office chair with my face in the Handbook. It never really occurred to me that the answer was in the thick text. It just so happened that there was a section about exorcism in "The Law and You". The first three paragraphs told me stuff I already knew: a brief history of the practice, why it was used, yada-yada-yada.
Finally, I came across something that could actually help me. Within that section, there was a list titled "The Criteria for Exorcism". A smile passed across my lips. The first item on the list was located towards the bottom of the page.
"The individual must be dead," I read out loud in a low, quiet voice. I couldn't help but chuckle at this. There was a time when Beetlejuice tried to pull a "Bio-Exorcist" scam. He actually managed to fool quite a few people. My eyes drifted to the top of the next page. My eyes widened like tea cup saucers.
The next page was missing.
"NO!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I was prepared to rip the damned book right in half. My fingernails dug into the pages and the hard cover. After a few seconds, my intense grip loosened and I let go of the book, letting it drop of the floor. There was a light clunk when the hard cover and the smooth tiled floor came in contact. Pages rustled. I stood there, my eyes on my trembling hands and my mouth open in an "O". The key to saving Beetlejuice could have been on that page! I was too scared to scream, too heart-broken to cry.
The door to Death's office opened and the man stepped out. His footsteps clicked against the floor in perfect step with the ticking clock. He smoothly walked to the desk and stood on the customer side, leaning over and resting his chin in his hands, using his elbows to prop his hands up.
"So," he said, disregarding my state of shock, "where's my payment?" I let my arms drop to my sides, my eyes glaring at him.
"Where is it?" I hissed. He stared back at me blankly.
"Where is what?" he questioned.
"The page!" I hollered in his face. He remained in his pose, completely unfazed. He was toying with me again. I bent over and grabbed the Handbook, holding it open where the missing page was. "Where is the page you took from me?" I screamed. The back of my neck sizzled. My cheeks felt red. My entire face was coated in sticky. I took in deep breaths. Death simply smirked at me.
"I really have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Deetz," he replied nonchalantly. I shut the book and stormed to the coat hanger, grabbing my cloak. After swooping it on, I opened the door.
"I still have time," I shot at him before shutting the door behind me.
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I drove straight to Beetlejuice's house, finding that he was home. I left the Handbook in the car, figuring that I was going to need it soon. After parking Doomie in the garage (next to Pinky, his girlfriend), I walked right into the house and found Beetlejuice nervously pacing the floor. When he heard me step in, he turned to me and jumped towards me, his arms spread out.
"Where were you?" he cried as he hugged me protectively. "Do you know how worried I was?" I rolled my eyes, pulling myself out of the tight embrace.
"I was at work," I grumbled in response. He put his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me. Even though I grew and was wearing heels, he still managed to be taller than me.
"Like I said," he said, "you're growing up too fast!" I couldn't help but smile. He must've been worried that I'd grown too mature for his antics. But now we would be spending an eternity together. There was no limit to the fun we could have! At least, that's what I hoped. I let out a heavy sigh and pulled away, slowly walking towards the window holding my cheek in my right hand. My left hand supported my right elbow. A mix of deep purple and indigo began slowly swallowing the warm pallet sky.
"I'm stuck," I told him flatly without turning to face him.
"Whadaya mean?" he asked. I glanced over my shoulder. Was he aware of his deadline? He seemed quite relaxed for someone who was going to be exorcised within a few hours.
"I don't have much time left," I replied, my voice shaking. My vision began to look glossy. "I don't know what to do…"
"Did you read the Handbook?" he asked slowly. I nodded, turning back towards the window. My lower lip quivered. Tears escaped my eyes. I buried my face in my hands.
"I was so close!" I wailed, feeling my entire body shake. "I was so close and the fucking page was missing!" My knees slowly began to fail and I found myself sinking to the floor. I was still wearing my cloak, and when I dropped to the ground the cape wrapped its arms around my shoulders. I leaned my head against the wall. My thoughts were buzzing like a nest of angry wasps. Everything was a jumbled mess and there was no way I could possibly untangle myself from the clutter. How was I supposed to find a solution in time? "I will never forgive myself if you are exorcised," I moaned into my hands. I heard footsteps approaching me from behind. I then heard the crumpling…or maybe uncrumpling…of paper. I removed my hands from my eyes and helped myself up. When I turned to face Beetlejuice, I saw a piece of wrinkled paper in his hands. Silently he handed it to me. I took it and scanned it. My eyes bulged ever so slightly.
It was the missing page!
"Beetlejuice!" I cried happily. "W-where did you get this?" My body continued to tremble, this time with excitement.
"Uuuuh…" he croaked, "I…uh…I found it in Death's office." I turned away for a moment.
"Death, that asshole," I muttered under my breath before turning to face my friend again. "This page could save you, Beetlejuice!" I exclaimed excitedly. He simply nodded, a nervous smile on his lips. My cheerful gaze turned back to the paper. Jelly beans were bouncing around ecstatically in my stomach. My hands were trembling, making the page shake as well.
There was a list of five other requirements for the punishment. After my first read, one sentence stuck out the most. Those words were burned into my memory and they still remain there. I folded the paper and tucked it under the left strap attaching the choker around my neck to the rest of the dress.
I stepped towards the door and opened it. Just as I started Doomie, I heard Beetlejuice's voice calling out to me.
"Lyds!" he exclaimed as he ran to the car. "I'm coming with you!" I smiled and pushed the passenger door open. He climbed in and closed the door while I checked the mirrors.
"Put your seatbelt on," I lightly commanded as I guided Doomie out of the garage. Beetlejuice simply leaned back with his hands behind his head and his feet on the dashboard.
"Nah, I don't need a seatbelt," he croaked. Smiling wryly, I floored it once we hit the road. He let out a scream from the sudden speed, continuing the cry when I slammed the breaks. It sent him flying into the windshield and out of the car. He turned his ability to go through objects on when he smashed through Doomie but collided with Poopsie's dog house. The dog barked wildly as Beetlejuice removed his head from the tiny wooden home. Screaming, Beetlejuice ran to the car and dove in. "Floor it, Lyds!" he hollered. Laughing still, I sped up. Once Beetlejuice was sitting in an upright position, he begrudgingly fastened his seatbelt.
My eyes fell on the twinkling city ahead. Death's building, the tallest in the city, stuck out like a sore thumb. I knew that Death was waiting for me on the top floor. I gently touched the paper resting over my heart with my right hand. Under my skin I felt the dead muscle flutter excitedly. The oval-shaped garnet, though dull, seemed to sparkle.
I knew how to save Beetlejuice.