Chapter 29: Night of the Living Dead
The Père-Lachaise was like a museum dedicated entirely to the dead, with displays made up of tombs and gravestones that only became more striking as they decayed. Unlike an art exhibit, however, Chuck was free to touch whatever she wanted, within reason. She reached out to trace a finger along the many names and dates, wondering how long she would have to live, what she would have to achieve, to earn a place here…
"Oy, Emily!" Halima called. "Stop communing with the spirits, we have actual spirits in need of drinking."
Charles Charles laughed a little too hard at that and Chuck suppressed a sigh as she jogged to catch up with the group. Her father had been none too pleased to hear she accepted a job, but there was hardly anything he could do about it. And once she introduced him to Halima (as a tourist friend she made at the hotel) all his concerns seemed to vanish, along with the contents of the liquor bottle someone handed him. Chuck knew she should be relieved; she had wanted him to enjoy himself after all…
"This place is gorgeous," he said, as the three of them settled on a set of steps to watch the other party-goers, an assortment of artists and art enthusiasts. Chuck was particularly impressed by the man in elaborate Marie Antoinette garb, complete with bloody severed head. But he kept ruining the illusion by popping his own head out of the dress to take a sip of champagne… "Like a gated community for dead celebrities."
"Well, that's one way of looking at it," Halima remarked, crossing her legs and leaning back. She had come as Josephine Baker, drenched in crystals that caught the lantern light…
She looked so spectacular it almost made the Alive Again Adventurer regret her own costume. 'Charlie Chaplin' was hardly the most glamorous or girlish thing she could have worn, but it had its sentimental value. And the intended effect of keeping her incognito. Besides, she had no right to desire that kind of attention…
Somewhere near Jim Morrison's resting place, people were starting to sing and play instruments.
"I wanna dance," Chuck blurted out, hopping to her feet.
"That sounds like a grand idea," said Halima, pulling a reluctant Charles Charles to his feet. But Chuck did not acknowledge them…
She danced with no-one and everyone, allowed herself to be dipped and spun. Nobody asked who she was, but they did not seem indifferent. Quite the opposite. It felt like they met a million times before, and would meet again soon. She supposed alcohol had that effect on people…
"Charlie, I love your movies!" said the young man whose arms she somehow ended up in. Chuck recognized him as one of the actors from Madame Claude's company, but could not remember his name. He was her exact height, maybe a bit shorter, and she found herself staring directly into a pair of clear blue eyes.
"Thanks, me too!"
He grinned, then – apropos of nothing – kissed her cheek. It was harmless, but Chuck felt a jolt of guilt regardless. As she gently extricated herself, she realized that she missed this - the warm, firm press of a spontaneous kiss…
Vaguely dazed, she wandered over to Halima and her father. They were talking to a young man who seemed to sway like a willow tree in the wind, and as she approached she realized he was talking at them, rather than to them.
Halima spotted Chuck and shook her head, but he had already turned round.
"Ah, and you must be the lovely Emily!" he slurred. "I'm George. The one you replaced at the bookstore."
Chuck frowned. So this was the 'silly boy' who worked there before, with the cookie crumbs and the mixed up books… "Nice to meet you," she lied.
"Wish I could say the same for you."
"Hey, how about you back off," Charles Charles said, in a way that made it clear this was not a suggestion. Chuck felt a rush of affection for him. How could she have ever wished he were anywhere but here…?
"You weren't even invited," Halima snapped.
"So what? You're not the boss of me." He swigged his beer. "This is a free country…and cemetery."
"And you're free to walk away before I kick your ass, kid."
George staggered back a bit, either out of fear or because he was struggling to stand. "Very brave of you to threaten from behind that mask. Let's see how tough you are without it-"
Chuck liked to think that if Charles Charles drank less, his reflexes would have kicked in. Alas, he was too slow to stop George from snatching the mask, snapping the strap as he ripped it clean off.
Halima shrieked, attracting stares from people nearby. Her hands flew to her mouth; she seemed embarrassed by the outburst. "Je suis désolée!" she uttered, with a shuddery laugh. "I – your prosthetics are very convincing-"
But Charles Charles was not listening. Chuck watched, petrified, as his face set into an expression of excruciating rage.
"Dad…" she murmured, just under her breath.
Either he did not hear or he decided to ignore her. Charles Charles stepped forward and swung, knocking George right off his feet. If anyone in the vicinity had missed the confrontation, they were certainly paying attention now.
Without a word Charles Charles stooped to pick up the mask, but he did not put it back on. He looked around the surrounding crowd, before putting his head down and shoving his way through. Only then did Chuck feel the cold, snake-like grip of shock release her…
"Dad!" she called out, running after him.
The Père-Lachaise was large and labyrinthine, all too easy to get lost in at night. Chuck had no idea where to look; no idea if he was even still there. It did not help that she could hardly see for the tears in her eyes…
"Dad-?!"
From the shadows, someone reached out and grabbed her, causing her to stagger to a stop. She looked up, certain it must be him…
"You know, running around yelling 'dad' is probably not the best way to stay incognito."
At that moment, she could barely comprehend what was happening. Mind overloaded with emotion, it took far too long to recognize him. But then he spoke again…
"It's okay, Chuck, I think I know where he's going."
…and it came back to her. "Eugene?!"
XXX
Olive checked her watch again…it was only a minute past 7pm…
"A watched pot never boils," Ned muttered over her shoulder. "Or it does boil, but it goes way slower because you keep staring at it like you're waiting for a bomb to go off…"
For once she was grateful to have so many customers demanding her attention. Otherwise she would have spent all day pacing a trench in the floor, checking the clock while she fought back a panic attack. But even as Olive hustled to get orders out, her mind kept wandering. Thirty minutes from now Ned would bring Digby and Pigby down, hiding them in the storage room, then -
"Miss? Hey, miss…?"
"…huh? Oh! Sorry, you were saying…?"
"Can we get three hot chocolates with the little marshmallows?"
"Sure thing, hun…"
7:07
Their second set of costumes were stashed in the back: Spooky Bunny and Grim Reaper. They figured if they were being watched, the best way to confuse the situation would be to walk out wearing something different from what they spent the day working in…
For now, Ned was dressed as the Dentist from Little Shop of Horrors, complete with leather apron, while she was all dolled up as a candy striper, with a short flirty skirt – exactly the kind of thing she would have worn any other Halloween. Once upon a time she might have worn it specifically for the Pie Maker. And even though that was the last thing on her mind right now, she'd be lying if she said she didn't like the look on his face the first time he saw her wearing it…
7:18
As he swept past with a tray, Ned asked Olive to cut up some fresh fruit. She grabbed a knife, glad for something physical to channel the nervous energy through. But her fine motor skills must have gone into hibernation because a few seconds later she nicked her finger, bad enough for it to start bleeding straight away.
Olive cursed out loud, earning a glare from the mother of two sitting at the counter.
"Sorry," she cringed, rushing to run her hand under some cold water. She didn't notice Ned dig out the First Aid kit until he was at her side with a band-aid – one of those kiddie ones she bought because it had cupcakes with sprinkles on it.
The Pie Maker seemed to be handling his anxiety a lot better than she was, which embarrassed her. He turned off the tap and took her hand, drying it with a paper towel before wrapping up the cut. Only then did they both notice how much she was trembling…
7:25
"I got blood on the fruit," she mumbled, feeling supremely dumb.
"Well, I'll have to dock your pay," he murmured with a wry smile. Then he squeezed, like he was searching for a pressure point. "You're fine. Maybe clean up what you can now, so Manuel has less to do tomorrow? I have to go get something …"
With that Ned disappeared upstairs. She checked her watch again and then got to work…
7:40
When Ned came out in his reaper costume, Olive ducked into the storage room so she could do a quick change too.
As she poured what would have to be the last coffee, some guy further down the counter said: "Whoa, what's with the onesie?'
Olive resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wanted to leave on as high a note as she could reach under the circumstances… "I decided to slip into something more comfortable."
"Too bad. I probably woulda tipped you more if you were wearing that pretty little number you had on before-"
"All right, that's enough," Ned snapped, taking his plate away.
"Uh, I'm not done."
"No, you're done." Olive had never heard that tone from him before. The manager in her thought it was bad idea to be so openly hostile to a paying customer. But in about five minutes there would be no paying customers for a long while, so she found it hard to care…
7:42
It took a moment to hear over the din; Olive thought she might be imagining things. Alas, the phone was, in fact, ringing. Neither of them moved for a second, not sure whether or not they should pick up. The last thing they needed right now was a distraction. But what if it was Emerson, hunched in a payphone somewhere trying to communicate something urgent…? On the third ring Ned lurched forward and answered, gesturing for her to follow.
He bent at the knees so she could press her ear to the receiver with him.
"Hello?"
"Ned! Glad I caught you. Is this a bad time?"
Olive felt her legs go numb and she had to grab him by the crook of his elbow, sure she would sink like a stone.
"…Dwight?"
"Got it in one," he said, his voice dripping sweet as anti-freeze. "Man, I hate to do this to you now, I know how busy you get over at the Pie Hole. But I need a favor. I hear your daddy's in town and I am dying to see him. So could you tell him to meet me at your little brothers' house? What were their names again…?"
As she leaned into Ned, not so much for support as to hear clearly, she felt the air leave his body.
"Oh, and I almost forgot! Make sure he brings me that watch."
Dwight hung up, and five seconds later the lights went out…
XXX
Emerson remembered Penny loving Halloween, more for the chance to get a glimpse into strangers' houses than for the candy (that was just an added bonus). Having a detective father made her exceptionally curious, but also very aware of 'bad guys'. She thought it weird and wonderful that once a year, people opened up their homes to anyone and everyone. That people trusted each other enough to not even ask who was on the other side of the door. He wished he could give her a world where this was normal. But the closest he could get was staying away, and hoping the bad guys never found out about her…
At that very moment, Digby startled the PI by barking like crazy, sticking his snout past the front seats as if preparing to leap through the windshield. Emerson followed his sightline and realized something was wrong. Spooky Bunny and the Grim Reaper were sprinting, instead of casually strolling, towards the car. They did not come across as customers so much as bank robbers trying to make a quick getaway. Olive clambered into the backseat and Ned got in front, flipping back the hood of his ridiculous cloak.
"What in the hell…?"
"Dwight got to Maurice and Ralston."
Emerson sat still for a moment, processing this. He had spent the past 24 hours going about his business with the composure of a tightrope walker. And in one fell swoop he lost his footing…
"What in the hell!"
He slammed his hand on the steering wheel, releasing a stream of curse words. He was so sick of dealing with these lunatics…
"Emerson, please! We need to find my dad NOW."
The PI exhaled hard, shook his head as if to clear it and started the car. Finding Eddie would not be a problem. Since he was the one who sent him on a wild goose chase…
A/N: Shout out to Dead Like Me! Like many Bryan Fuller shows, it was gone too soon. Just two seasons and a movie (which sucked). I can't remember if I mentioned this already but I find myself dropping little DLM Easter eggs throughout the story. Let me know if you've noticed any x