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Murphy’s Law
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Where the Dead go to Die Interlude Six
INTERLUDE SIXTo complete, inside reverse fold one side to fashion the head, and then fold down the wings. Only then, as you do this, will the origami crane take shape. You are finished.Emily was in the bed she no longer shared with her husband, yet which still smelled like him, when the noise came. Twisting metal, shrieking tires, engines that roared like rabid things hell-bent on biting and tearing until there was nothing left to bite and tear. Whoever they were, they had knocked down the gate. All that noise was lightning-fierce, seeming to shake the earth their house was built on, snapping her from sleep. It extinguished all other sound. She bolted upright, unable to hold in or hear her cry, and watched the window overlooking the driveway burn bright, the venetian blinds sending swirling bars of yellow light across the walls. Emily shielded her face, splayed fingers doing little to obscure that false-dawn glare.Doors slammed. The thump of heavy boots pounding the lawn.She lo
Where the Dead go to Die Red
RED“What in the name Sam Hill was that?”It was the first time Emily had dropped the expression in years. When times turned south, so too did her vocabulary—even her accent sounded stronger. But the shock of her slip was nothing compared to the sound reverberating through the facility, ringing in her ears.You know what that was, said a voice in the back of her head. You know only too well.Woods was next to Emily at the door to her supervisor’s office, surrounded by the five Crowners. As expected, their visitors had arrived in their ‘casual’ attire, a thrift store patchwork of summer shirts that made them look like unassuming RV drivers, only instead of prowling highways they coursed the corridors of America’s hospice system. Like Emily and Woods, they had all flinched and ducked at the gunshot, exchanging wide-eyed glances.A second blast rung out. Someone started screaming for help. Mykel.“The break room,” Woods said. She clutched her blouse, a gesture that undermined the fe
Where the Dead go to Die The Choices Mothers Make
THE CHOICES MOTHERS MAKELucette was finally sleeping.Emily sat by the girl’s bed, listening to her labored breathing. It was so deep it made the bedsprings squeak. All about them were bundles of soiled tissues, cotton buds, a half empty bottle of gin, red bath towels that had been drenched red. The prior afternoon and the night that followed had been its own kind of slaughter, not so different from that which she’d witnessed at work. Emotional destruction.These had been the most difficult hours of Emily’s existence.She patted her daughter’s sizzling forehead, trying not to look at the bandages wrapped around the lower part of her face. The wet fabric sloshed inwards and outwards with every one of her daughter’s desperate intakes of air. This detail broke Emily’s heart because it made it all seem too real. And it was real, despite the way the hours since leaving the hospice had blurred together, like those fitful times when dreaming and waking mingled. A blur of wishing versus t
Where the Dead go to Die Welcome Aboard
WELCOME ABOARD“The dead roam those halls.”At first, Emily assumed the voice was her own, an echo bouncing off the building’s façade. She continued toward the entrance nonetheless, brushing the cliché away as though it were just another snowflake caught on her coat. Every one of her steps ushered the cinderblock structure closer until it loomed overhead, and as she passed into its shadow, Emily found herself admiring how the building managed to be both nondescript and foreboding at the same time, a balancing act of utilitarian blandness that screamed government institution!The voice spoke again. No, not just spoke. It came at her.“That place belongs to the dead.”She paused. The speaker wasn’t in her head, rather somewhere to her right: an old woman with wild gray hair, dressed in black. Emily knew she shouldn’t be unsettled—that she was above all the theatrical bullshit that came with this territory—yet she felt her stomach knotting anyway.“The dead roam those halls.” Repeat
Where the Dead go to Die Interlude One
INTERLUDE ONETake a square piece of paper. Fold the top corner to the bottom. Crease, open again, and then fold the paper in half, sideways this time. Turn the square over, crease diagonally, open, and then fold in the opposite direction.His voice like honey, as it always was.“Did you grab the card, babe?”
Where the Dead go to Die Smoke Break with Mama Metcalf
SMOKE BREAK WITH MAMA METCALFEmily met Mama Metcalf her third day on the job.Three hours in and overdue for her first break, Emily sought refuge in the courtyard accessible through the break room. Although ‘courtyard’ seemed too fancy a description for the space, which she could tell from peering through the staffroom window was empty except for a weathered picnic table and the woman sitting at it. Emily gripped her fourth coffee of the morning in one hand and gripped the handle with the other.She closed her eyes and in the dark imagined warmer weather greeting her. Sunshine on her face. The smell of wafting barbeque. Yes, the outdoor setting might even pass as halfway inviting mid-year, so long as she ignored the enclosing nine-foot wall, the one fringed with bales of razor-wire.Ignored the dead pigeon snagged in the barbs.The door creaked open. As expected, the day was bitter, but Emily found the frigid air preferable to the antiseptic foulness she was leaving behind, if on
Where the Dead go to Die Intake
INTAKEAfter stowing her coat in the break room, Emily found Woods outside the door to her office, holding a bottle of Yoo-hoo chocolate in her hands. At first glance, her supervisor’s face was stoic. A second pass proved otherwise.Emily detected shards of unease in Woods’ expression, the pointy ends driving in, causing noticeable pain. And she wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it, either. Emily almost asked if she was okay, but snatched the words from the tip of her tongue and tucked them away as though she’d been caught red-handed with something humiliating.What an awful revelation. Discovering someone you’re obliged to respect is human.No matter how passive the mask someone wore, emotions lurked beneath the surface.In some alternate reality, Emily suspected robots must be the ones delivering this line of work. Machines programmed to express dignity and empathy on cue, deflecting care’s heartbreak. Maybe the hospice workers of the future were coin-operated things, little pro
Where the Dead go to Die Interlude Two
INTERLUDE TWOUsing the creases you have made, bring the top three corners of the paper to the bottom. Flatten. After this, fold the top triangular wings into the center and unfold. Finish this set by folding the top of the square downward, and crease. Unfold.“Did you grab the card, babe?” Jordan asked.The look Emily gave her husband said it all: Why of course she’d forgotten to grab the card. It was inside on the study desk where she’d stopped to write the inscription, thinking, So do I make this out to Kevin or his parents? It’s not like a three-year-old is going to read it anyway. He’ll just throw it aside as he rips off the wrapping. Emily couldn’t blame him for that. Lucette, who was the same age, had done a similar thing at her birthday party the month before. And although they often pretended otherwise, adults weren’t so different—everyone knew cards were an overpriced pit stop on the road to the good stuff. But formalities were important.They help trick us into thinking
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Where the Dead go to Die The Choices Mothers Make
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Where the Dead go to Die Murphy’s Law
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Where the Dead go to Die The Uglies
Where the Dead go to Die The Last Christmas
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Where the Dead go to Die Interlude Four
