Things returned to normal by the end of the week. The citizens of Rockwood were far too accustomed to such happenings to make a big deal out of a little thing like a near apocalypse. The world hadn't ended. Everyone pretended not to notice. Life went on.
There were changes, small shifts in Rockwood's paradigm. The sun shined brighter. The brown grass turned a healthier shade of yellow. A wren was spotted singing sweetly on a diner sign amid a flock of ravens, and a stain of blood on a linoleum floor was finally mopped away for good. And in McAllister Fields two new ghostly guardians stood watch.
Somewhere in the back, two young lovers lay side-by-side, laid to rest in a single ceremony that they might find the happiness in eternity denied them by a tragic coyote attack.
Tammy stood at the graveyard gate. Nothing stood between her and the other side, but she just couldn't step across. It wasn't like there was an invisible wall, yet every time she thought about lifting her leg and crossing, the foot stayed put.
Chad charged the gate. He started from a good way off, but the closer he got, the heavier his steps became. Just before he would have crossed over, he came to a reluctant stop.
"Damn, babe, I thought I had it that time."
Tammy rolled her ectoplasmic eyes. There was no way to break the term of guardianship. They were trapped until somebody died and got buried. Then it was off to whatever waited on the other side for a fallen priestess of the old gods. In the meantime, she could only kill time. She didn't mind the waiting itself, but the company left much to be desired.
Chad tried pushing his fingers past the barrier for the thousandth time and was unsuccessful for the thousandth time. He scratched his head and thought long and hard.
"I think we're stuck."
"Ya think?"
She headed back toward her grave. Chad trailed along.
"So we're, like, dead, right?"
She nodded.
"Bummer." Smiling, he put an arm around her waist. "I just want you to know that I'm not mad about you letting that guy kill me."
"Glad to hear it," she replied through clenched teeth.
His hand slid down to her butt.
Tammy had killed, invoked the forbidden arts, and tried to sacrifice the world for her own gain, but she wondered what she'd done to deserve this.
"Aw, c'mon, baby. We can just make out. We don't have to do anything serious."
Death had not diminished his hormones nor made him any less annoying. If Chad the ghost was anything like Chad the living, it was just easier to give him a screw and get him off her back.
"Oh, alright," she sighed.
He wrapped her in powerful, yet yielding arms and kissed her. It was strong, passionate, electrifying without being overwhelming. Heat washed through her, and she pushed him away.
"What? Did I do something wrong, babe?"
She took a moment to adjust. Chad had always been a lousy lay when alive. He'd possessed the enthusiasm and the desire. Everything but the talent. He'd always tried, but clumsy hands and a feeble endurance had been his downfall. But ectoplasm was a construction of the soul, and somewhere in Chad hid the soul of a lover.
She kissed him again. The merest touch of his lips made her weak in the knees. She shoved him roughly to the ground. There were worse ways to kill time, she supposed.
He grinned stupidly in a way she found surprisingly charming. Then he opened his mouth and said something stupid to ruin the moment.
"Are we going to do it?"
"Chad."
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
Deep within the earth, the old gods grumbled. Only Tammy, among the living and the dead, heard.
And she just ignored them.