After Death Read Online Free PDF

maybe tell him that he was here by order of the court or some other reason. Nothing—just a polite nod and a blink like he was taking a mental picture. Fernando continued.
    “You write your name and address here, sign it here. You forget to sign, you don’t get paid for that week. Got it?”
    Frank nodded and replied quietly; “No problem.”
    Fernando smiled.
    “Maybe not for you and me but we got some real losers here, man. This way.”
    He led Frank down the rest of the central corridor and they turned a corner. As the cleanliness of the place began to noticeably drop off, Fernando couldn’t help but wonder at this new guy. He was older than the last three by at least ten years. He also seemed a lot more interested in knowing what he was supposed to be doing…The others were so distracted he had to repeat everything over and over and they still usually didn’t remember. Of course, the king of the bozos was the kid that came in with spiky hair and his MP3 player blasting in his ears. He’d refused to take them out and after Fernando had spent several frustrating minutes trying to communicate with him — practically shouting in his face — Fernando had finally given up and just walked away.
    He remembered being worried about what would happen to him for not doing his part but no one ever said a word. And the amazing part was — they still hired the guy! Of course, the kid only lasted about a week…From what he heard, the punk didn’t like old people… and there were too many of them at a convalescent hospital for him to be “comfortable” — Go figure.
    Fernando always wondered where they found these losers and why they hired them? He could’ve found a dozen better candidates just walking down the street in his native Mexico…He knew he shouldn’t compare…Survival was a great motivator and one these pampered gringos would never know…
    Which is why Frank’s behavior really stood out… They must’ve upped the pay… He thought. It was the only explanation… He wondered if it was a position he could take a shot at when this guy was gone… No more giant pots of mac and cheese. No more sweating his ass off in summer in front of the grill or slinging gobs of mashed potatoes onto plastic plates over and over — that would be great…
    They passed several open doors, some of the sick and elderly staring out as they passed. Most were oblivious, their eyes glazed and dull, almost opaque. Some were so thin it was hard to look at them, their bones barely covered by a tight flesh covering that showed signs of possible breakage at all the sharp angles. Only one or two seemed to flash a brief instant of notice or recognition in otherwise sunken and blank faces.
    Fernando glanced sidelong at Frank; still no reaction to the smell. They passed a door and a particularly nasty waft of waste assaulted them — Ah, there it was—the involuntary wince as the nostrils curled in disgust on their own. He wondered how long this one would last ; Two weeks maybe..?
    “Oh, yeah, the stink.” Fernando said without thinking. “They don’t clean this place too good. Don’t worry, after ‘bout ten minutes, you don’t notice no more.”
    He said the same thing to all of them.
    They came to an open door at the end of the hall and paused in the doorway. An old woman sat facing them in a wheelchair, her long grey-haired head bent forward as if it was too heavy to carry any longer. She might have been dead except that she kept mumbling something to herself over and over, her thin voice still strong enough that it bounced audibly off her boney lap.
    “Pick me up at ten o’clock-Pick me up at ten o’clock-Pick me up at ten o’clock…” She mumbled.
    Before Frank could ask, Fernando explained.
    “That’s Lidia — Talks to herself all day, all night, whenever she’s awake. Says the same thing over and over; pick me up at ten o’clock, pick me up at ten o’clock.”
    “Why? What happened at ten o’clock?” Frank