his heart, his mind, and his soul, Mikey McGill began to dig. EpilogueEPILOGUE Requiem for the Living
On a bench in a train station in the city of Little Rock, Arkansas, sat a girl who made the ticket agent nervous.
She had arrived early in the morning, presumably to wait for someone to arrive on the train, but few passenger trains came through Little Rock's Union Station-in fact it was more of an office building now than anything else. The ticket agent called security, and the two security guards on duty eyed her from a distance.
'A nut job,' concluded the older man, but the younger guard was not so jaded. He had just turned twenty, and was new to the job. He still saw the best in people. 'Maybe she's just waiting for the Texas Eagle.'
'That train's not due for hours,' said the older guard. 'I'm tellin' ya-she's a wacko. Sooner or later there'll be a 'tell' that gives it away-you watch!'
The girl did not have the look of the various and sundry crazies that frequented the nation's train stations. She was well-dressed-in fact, overdressed in a emerald-green satin gown. True, her red hair looked a bit disheveled, but she was neither talking to herself or engaging in questionable activities-although sitting for hours in a train station was, in and of itself, questionable.
She was hard not to notice. What with that shimmering gown, she was the only bright spot in the dreary station, and it drew the younger guard's attention all morning long, until he finally approached her. She was as beautiful up close as she was from a distance, although some discoloration around one eye attested to some sort of trouble.
'Are you all right, Miss?' he asked. 'Can I help you with anything?'
'No,' she said cheerily. 'I'm just waiting for a friend.'
'The train isn't due to arrive for another six hours- and with that bridge down in Memphis, everything's been rerouted, so it's bound to be late. Wouldn't you rather come back later?'
'My friend is not necessarily arriving by train,' she informed him.
'Oh.' Since he didn't quite know how to respond to that, he just let her be, convincing the other guard not to evict her for loitering. It occurred to him that this girl fit the description of a woman wanted for questioning in the bridge disaster, but there was no way it could have been her. This girl was far too young and innocent to be involved in that kind of thing.
She was still there at noon, and was beginning to get fidgety. The young guard had realized she had not eaten-in fact, she didn't even have a purse or wallet of any kind, so he bought her a bagel at the station cafe, and gave it to her.
'On the house,' he said. 'Why, thank you!'
'Are you sure I can't help you?' he asked. 'Maybe we could call your friend.'
'I'm afraid he has no telephone.' And clearly neither did she.
She ate her bagel slowly, with a grace rarely seen in these days of fast food and stuffed faces. If she was still here when his shift ended, he thought he might offer to buy her dinner-if only to watch the graceful way she dined.
As the day wore on, she became more and more unsettled, and her behavior became such that the older guard crossed his arms and said, 'See, I told you so!' But again, the younger guard convinced him to leave the poor girl alone. 'She's all yours,' the older man said as he left at the end of his shift.
At about four in the afternoon, the girl began to walk around the station with increasing impatience, zeroing in on anyone who lingered alone for too long, and the guard began to truly feel for her.
'Is it you?' she asked a man who stood reading a newspaper.
'Pardon me, I thought you were someone else,' she said to a worker fixing a vending machine. 'Are you someone else?'
These were all 'tells' to be sure, and now that she was up and about, there was one more thing to give away the fact that things weren't quite right. It was her dress. It was beautiful, it was elegant, and it still had a price tag hanging from the back. *** The living world had not been kind to Mary Hightower in the week she had been in it. Resilient and adaptive though she was, there were simply some situations she was unprepared for. It wasn't only that her sensibilities were suited to a kinder, more genteel time, but she had also forgotten the endless inconveniences of the human body.
First there was the weakness brought on by hunger and thirst, which nearly caused her to faint several times during her first few days alive. The need for nourishment was an ever-present nuisance. She abhorred theft of any kind, so she hoped simple human compassion might sustain her. She was appalled at how few people were willing to share their food with her when asked politely. In the end she had to resort to taking food from abandoned plates after the diners had left-and even then she was constantly shoed away by heartless restauranteurs.
She quickly became disgusted with bodily functions as well, but discovered that ignoring them was not a good idea-and then there was this awful business of body odor. In Everlost she always smelled faintly of lilacs and wildflowers-just like the fields around her on the day she died. Well, the living body did not smell at all floral, and although she had worn the same green velvet dress for more than a hundred years, in just a few days it had become so dirty and so foulsmelling that people would keep their distance from her.
Over the week, as she traveled west, she had come across several men who appeared gallant, and willing to help her-such as the man who purchased for her the lovely dress she now wore. However there was nothing gentlemanly about them at all. In fact, they turned mean when she didn't return their affection, and left her.
Well, she thought, at least I have my self-respect, and a new dress.
On the night before her arrival in Little Rock, she bathed herself in a fountain to wash off the stench of living, and groomed her hair with a brush she had found in a drainage ditch.
'Meet me in one week's time,' Milos had whispered to her on that terrible day in Graceland. 'One week's time, at the train station in Little Rock.'
No matter what she was forced to endure during this terrible week, she was determined to look her best for Milos.
She knew he would be skinjacking, so there'd be no way to spot him in advance. All she could do was wait. So that's what she did. She waited all morning, and all afternoon. But as the day wore on, and the sun began to set, she became increasingly worried. What if Milos wasn't coming? What if he had changed his mind? What if she was now truly stuck in the living world? And what if this nightmare of a week became her whole future? She imagined herself aging, her body corrupting with decay. What had she done to deserve such an unspeakable punishment?
A train came, people boarded, people left, and it moved on. It was long after dark now, and Milos had not come. She buried her head in her hands and wept.
'Listen, Miss… I'm sorry your friend didn't show…'
She looked up to see that nosy young security guard again. She gathered what little poise she could, and pulled a few stray strands of hair back from her face. 'It's fine,' she said. 'Really it is.' She looked at the large station clock, which showed half-past nine. They were the only ones left in the station now.
'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but the building's closing.'
Mary blotted her eyes, as he sat down beside her. 'You must work very long hours,' she said. 'You've been here since this morning.'
He offered her an apologetic shrug. 'Actually my shift ended a while ago. But I was worried about you, so I stayed.'
Then he reached around to the back of her neck. 'You know you left the price tag on.'
'Did I? I hadn't noticed.'
'Might as well be a 'kick me' sign. May I?'
'Please.'
He reached into his pocket. 'I got this off a troublemaker the other day. He was trying to shoplift cigarettes.' And he produced a large switchblade. He reached behind her and cut off the tag.
'Thank you.'
Then he offered her his hand. 'My name is Roberto, but my friends call me Beto.'
'A pleasure to meet you, Beto. My name is-' She hesitated, then said, 'My name is Megan. Megan McGill.'
'Listen,' said Beto, 'since we're closing and all, maybe you might like to go get something to eat.'
Mary sighed. So here it was again; a young man pretending to be a gentleman. Was it too much to hope that
