At Witt's End

4

After staring out the screen door with a coffee cup clutched in both hands, Sadie turned and whispered to her sister. “He's back. I don't know where he went yesterday, but he's back. I think he's ready to ask for help.” A hinge creaked in protest when Sadie pushed on the screen door.

The man in the black suit shot a distressed glance at the door and then at the resort guests who scrambled past him on their way to the parking lot. His knuckles paled as his fist gripped the briefcase handle. He shouted at a nearby group of men. When they ignored him, even after a second attempt to get their attention, he stopped. Furrows of confusion crowded his narrow forehead.

"Is there something I can do for you?” Sadie repeated the question when he didn't respond.

The man shielded his eyes to focus on Sadie. He squinted and scanned Sadie from her spiked hair to her polished purple toenails. “I highly doubt it."

"You'll change your mind,” Sadie said under her breath. She sat next to Belly on the top porch step. Keeping his gaze on the man, the dog's hind quarters wriggled in excitement. Sadie coaxed Belly into a sitting position, maneuvering him sideways until he panted in her face. “Oh pew, Belly. Your breath smells like Jane's rear end."

"I heard that,” Mr. Bakke shouted through the screen door. “How do you know what Jane's rear end smells like?"

"Just a wild guess,” Sadie answered. “From the size of it, I bet I'm right.” She pushed Belly's head to the side so she could catch her breath.

Sadie inhaled deeply over her coffee, pulling in the rich aroma. Caffeine. Her vice. This was the one thing she refused to give up. Actually it was the second. She also refused to miss her weekly appointment at Big Leon's Beauty Shop. What he couldn't do with a curling iron and a bottle of dye.

She watched the man step back onto the paved path. He pulled a key ring from his suit coat pocket. Pressing a button on the remote attached to his key chain, he scanned the cars in the parking lot. He pressed the button again. Failing to hear the honk that signaled a programmed function, he stared back down at the keys.

"Are you sure I can't help you?"

Turning to respond, he said, “Madam, I already answered your question. It would be most unlikely that you could answer any inquiry I might have."

"Suit yourself.” Sadie shook the last few drops of coffee from the mug and stood. “I'll be inside if you need me."

"Are we getting another one?” Mr. Bakke asked, as Sadie let the screen door slam behind her. She set the mug on the table.

"I think so, but he's one stubborn crosser."

Mr. Bakke dipped his hands into the dishwater and wrung out a cloth before wiping the length of the kitchen counter. He wore khaki shorts and a light blue polo shirt featuring a Witt's End Resort emblem. A ghostly-white, seven-inch section of exposed skin stood out boldly between his knee-high stockings and the hem of his shorts. His unusually large feet were clad in brown sandals. Sadie blinked twice to make sure he wasn't wearing snowshoes.

Small-boned and height challenged, his head sported thin wisps of white hair that refused to lay flat against his scalp. Tufts of ear hair sprung from the sides of his head. Were Belly and Mr. Bakke hatched from the same furry egg? Sadie smiled at the prospect.

"I can't believe Jane's letting you do that,” Sadie said, watching Mr. Bakke run the cloth over the counter. “She won't have a purpose if you clean. Why waste your time? You know she'll redo it when you're not looking."

"I'm trying to lighten her load. She's so worried about the law suit she's irrational. This morning she cleared the table and started the dishes before I finished eating."

"That's why I wolf my food down and bloat like a pig. You take in a lot of air when you're forced to shovel it in,” Sadie said. “She's pressured me to eat fast ever since I can remember. Jane got that trait from our mother."

"I'll bet it drove your father to distraction,” Mr. Bakke said.

"We never knew him. Mother refused to tell us who he was."

"She wouldn't tell me, either. I tried to trick her into telling me, but she never let it slip.” Mr. Bakke joined Sadie at the kitchen table.

"Mr. Bakke,” Sadie said, pointing across the table. “You might want to consider moving to another chair. You just sat on Lora."

Placing his palms flat on the table for leverage, Mr. Bakke planted his sandals on the floor and rose slowly. He turned to view the empty chair. “My apologies, Lora. I didn't know you were there. I thought Sadie and I were alone."

A hollow rap on the screen door interrupted their conversation. They turned to witness the man in the black suit squint with curiosity as he tried to make out the figures on the opposite side of the door.

Sadie pushed the door open.

"Excuse me, madam,” the man said, his eyes lingering on Sadie's hairdo. “It seems I've had a lapse of memory. I can't figure out where I am.” His shoulders jerked when a car door slammed behind him.

Sadie joined him on the porch. “You're at Witt's End."

The man tightened his grip on the briefcase. “I know that. I read the sign. I need to know where Witt's End is located."

"We're located on Pinecone Lake in Northern Minnesota."

Belly grunted, lifted his bulk from the rug, and rammed his head against the screen door. Sadie pushed it open to prevent the dog from ripping the mesh from the door's frame. Belly sniffed the man's shoes. He snorted against the back of his trousers as the man tried to push him away with his briefcase.

"That's not possible. I'm on my way to…” He paused. “Well it's none of your concern. I just need to get back to the correct highway."

Sadie watched him scan the parking lot again, desperate to connect with something familiar. She motioned at him. “Maybe you should step in for a few minutes to get your bearings. Then I'll help you select a route."

The man sat in the chair Sadie indicated and looked around the room. Noticing others present, he said, “I wouldn't have bothered you if I had known you had company. I apologize for the intrusion."

"It's not an intrusion. These folks are guests just like you,” Sadie said, picking at a wad of dog hair that had stuck to her purple tube top. Sadie turned to point to Mr. Bakke on the davenport. “Well, everyone's a guest except Mr. Bakke.” Smiling at the elderly gentleman she added, “He's family."

Mr. Bakke waved and continued to read without looking up from his newspaper.

The man studied the other guests. “A guest? I'm not a guest. I may be perplexed, but I guarantee I have no intention of becoming a guest."

"Nobody ever does,” Sadie said gently.

Belly propped his chin on the man's leg and rolled his eyes coyly. Then he barked. The man's white knuckles jutted through his skin.

Leaning away from the dog, he said, “Please remove your mongrel from my pants leg. He's getting drool all over me.” He grimaced as the slobber spot on his briefcase veined across the leather.

"He's not my dog,” Sadie said.

"Then why do you tolerate him? He should be outside where creatures belong."

"He thinks he lives here.” Sadie tugged on Belly's collar. “But he really belongs to the neighbors."

After situating Belly on the opposing side of the room, Sadie reached out to shake the man's hand. “I'm Sadie Witt,” she said. She felt the clammy coolness of his skin when the man placed the tips of his fingers against her palm. “And who might you be?"

He looked up over the top of his glasses at Sadie's wrinkled cleavage and quickly averted his gaze. He shook his head. “It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is I'm obviously in the wrong place."

"For your information, you are exactly where you're supposed to be."

"I can't be. I haven't booked a vacation. And if I had, it certainly wouldn't be here. My arrival here was a miscalculation."

"I don't think so,” Sadie said, edging closer to the man. “Let's try this again.” Sadie reached her hand out. “I'm Sadie Witt. Who are you?"

Without extending his hand, the man straightened his shoulders, raised his chin, and said, “I'm Theopholis Jamison Peter."

"Well Mr. Peter, welcome to Witt's End. May we call you Theo?"

The screen door slammed and they turned toward the noise.

"Who called the undertaker?” Rodney Lassiter's footsteps fell heavily as he clomped over to Theo. “Black suit. Black tie. Did they let you drive the hearse, too?” A sneer portrayed his disdain as he ran his finger under the lapel on Theo's suit. “Nice threads, dude. I bet this cost you a wad. It ought to look real good where you're going."

"Sit down, Rodney, and be quiet,” Sadie said. “Theo is one of our new guests."

Tugging on a chair with his boot, Rodney said, “Where do you find these losers, Sadie? The last one was a race car driver with his helmet melted to his head. Now you got one in a mortician's costume. How come you don't get no sexy broads coming to your cabin?"

Rodney's jeans hung low on his hips. As he moved, his hands grasped the waist band to keep from losing his pants. One of his t-shirt sleeves featured circles burned into it spelling the word ‘kill’ in uneven letters.

"Cork it, Rodney.” Sadie put her fists on her hips as she turned to face him. “I don't want to have to tell you again."

With lightening speed, Rodney bounded back toward Theo and placed his oil-stained hands on Theo's leather briefcase. “What's in the briefcase?"

Recoiling, Theo said, “I beg your pardon."

Rodney wrapped his fingers around the padded leather handle. “Let's see what you got."

Gritting his teeth, Theo uttered, “Remove your hand from my briefcase."

Rodney tugged on the handle, trying to twist the case from Theo's grasp.

Theo clamped his hand on Rodney's fist and squeezed. Rodney yelped and pulled his hand away. Theo let out his own shriek. “Your hand. What's wrong with your hand?"

The twenty-one year old winced as he cradled his hand and tried to move his fingers. Rodney shouted, “You broke it. You broke my hand."

Frantically directing his question toward Sadie, Theo repeated, “What's wrong with his hand? It's clammy."

"You don't know you're dead yet, do you?” Rodney said. Stepping up to Theo, Rodney tapped the man's chest, pushing hard with each tap. “For your information Mr. Pansy-Ass-Big-Shot, you're dead. You're as dead as a mackerel. A stinking, slimy, rotting mackerel."

Theo squared his shoulders. “You don't know what you're talking about.” Frustration smoldered as he continued, “Do I look like I'm dead? You, young man, wouldn't be talking to me if I were dead, now would you?"

Reaching toward the briefcase Rodney matched Theo's exaggerated tone. “I would and I am. You're just as dead as the rest of the losers in this cabin."

Rodney swatted at a greasy cluster of hair tickling the nape of his neck. A ragged shoulder seam on the left side of his t-shirt bragged of a recent confrontation, one of many the young man had started over the years.

Sadie's shrill voice interrupted the clash between the men. “Rodney. That's enough. Either go back outside or go to the inner room."

Glaring at Theo, Rodney said, “Loser. You're lucky I worked my ass off today. I'm too tired to deal with you.” Retreating toward the inner room, he stabbed his finger in Theo's direction. “Later, dude. Count on it.” He slammed the inner room door causing a framed picture to bounce and shatter against the floor.

Sadie patted Theo's chair to encourage him to sit down. “It's not wise to get into a pissing match with a skunk.” She lifted a broom off a pantry hook and swept up the shards that had scattered across the floor. “Ignore him. He's got an attitude. He's cranky because his thirty days are slipping away.” Sadie motioned toward the inner room door. In a low tone she added, “Whatever you do, don't let him know you're afraid of him.

"I'm sorry Rodney told you about your death. That information should have come from me.” She grasped the back of his chair and again gestured for him to sit down. “Most people are in shock when they learn their dead."

"Death? Are you out of your mind?” Theo rasped.

"Yes she is,” filtered through the inner room door. “All you have to do is look at her. Any idiot could figure that out."

A gaunt young woman rose from her chair and touched Theo's fingers. As he jerked them from her grasp, Lora said, “Sadie's not crazy.” Looking toward the inner room door, she leaned in and whispered, “Don't believe Rodney. Sadie's the only chance you've got to reach your destination."

Lora and her son Michael, the third and fourth crossers of the week, had arrived shortly after Rodney checked into Cabin 14. Lora was nothing like Rodney. Terrified and insecure, Lora needed constant encouragement. It didn't take long before Sadie realized the poor woman lacked the ability to make a death decision.

Lora's unwillingness to accept her new responsibility concerned Sadie. Sadie coached Lora at length to get her to understand the urgency of making a sound decision. The lectures failed. Lora leaned toward a decision that held risk.

Six-year-old Michael's objection to his mother's decision also added to Sadie's concern. Lora's decision led to doom. Her son's objections only added to the frail woman's dilemma.

Theo's toe caught on the rug as he hurried toward the screen door. His voice trembled. “What's going on here? Her fingers are as cold as Rodney's. They might be dead, but I'm not dead.” His voice rose as he looked at Sadie. “I tell you I'm not dead."

"I know you're confused, but you've got to calm down. There's so much I need to explain.” Sadie waited as Theo fumbled for the doorknob. “You have to make a decision and we're here to help you. The time you have left is limited. All my crossers are facing the same dilemma and will tell you about their concerns as the days go by. They expect you to do the same."

"Please listen to her,” Lora said. “I didn't believe her at first, either. None of us did. But when you hear everything, you'll understand.” Lora pulled her son to her side.

"When you died,” Sadie said, “you didn't pass through the tunnel of light like you should have. You were held back. Some don't make it through the light because their issues are unresolved. It's up to you to figure out what that is. You've been given a time frame of thirty days to figure it out and make your decision."

"Decision.” Theo rolled his eyes and looked away. “Your little fantasy game doesn't impress me in the least."

"Theo, you are dead. I don't know how you died, but believe me, you are dead. You have to decide whether you want to go back through the light or go to the parallel world.” Sadie sat back in her chair, waiting for what she knew would come next.

"I've heard enough,” Theo shouted. “Parallel world? What is this some kind of cult?” Theo flicked his hand toward the others. “If you've been taken in by this lunatic, then you're just as crazy as she is.” He gestured frantically. “I suppose you're all waiting for an alien space ship to take you away?"

"No, we're not. There are no such things as aliens. But we know we need to make a decision so we can cross over.” A blond, twelve-year-old boy rose and crossed the room toward Theo. “I'm Tim. I'm dead just like you.” He pointed at Lora as he explained. “Lora and her son are dead. The guy in the inner room is dead. Sadie's our death coach and she's here to help us make our decisions."

A throaty laugh erupted from Theo as he threw his head back. “I just realized what this is. It's a bad dream. I've been having trouble sleeping and I'm on a new medication. I'm hallucinating.” Theo tapped both cheeks rapidly. “I'll shake myself awake and end this nightmare."

"This isn't a bad dream. You died recently and made your way to my cabin.” Sadie gazed up into his eyes to make sure he was listening. “I'm your death coach. You're a crosser and that's why you ended up in Cabin 14."

Sadie watched Theo's throat bob as he swallowed with difficulty. “I hope you look at your stay with us as an honor rather than a horror. You have the opportunity to make a major death decision. Most people don't have that luxury."

Sadie empathized with Theo as well as the other crossers. Believing the incredulous was difficult enough, but accepting the finality was next to impossible.

Theo's gaze moved around the room as Sadie pointed to Michael. “As you can see, crossers come in all sizes and ages.” Michael tucked his head behind his mother's arm when Theo stared at him. Sadie put her arm around Tim's shoulder. “Tim and his parents were killed in a car accident. Tim's parents went through to the other side, but Tim remained behind. He wants to rejoin his parents."

Sadie nudged Belly away from Theo's leg as the dog pranced around Theo's feet. “And you've met Rodney. We don't know much about him,” Sadie said, pointing toward the inner room. “He doesn't seem interested in sharing his intentions with the group."

Pulling Michael into her lap, Sadie said, “The five of you make up my guest roster for the time being. I'm only allowed five crossers at one time."

"But you have six,” Theo said, pointing at Mr. Bakke.

"Mr. Bakke isn't dead."

"He's not?” Michael said, looking up at Sadie. “He looks dead."

Hearing his name, Mr. Bakke said, “What?"

"Our new guest thought you were one of the crossers, Mr. Bakke."

Mr. Bakke turned toward the kitchen table. “I'm not dead yet. I suppose that's not too far down the road, but as of today, I'm still kicking."

Sadie pointed at the door. “Theo's over by the door. You were talking to the chair Lora's sitting in."

"Is he the new one?” Mr. Bakke asked, directing his gaze toward the door.

"Yup,” Michael chimed in. “He just got here."

Sadie patted Michael's leg. “Yes. He's our new one."

Theo nodded toward Mr. Bakke. “What's wrong with him? Can't he see me?"

"He can't see or hear you. He's a mortal."

"But you can,” Theo argued looking at Sadie. “Your dog must see me because he keeps drooling all over my pants."

"All animals see crossers,” Tim said. “Haven't you ever noticed how animals run and sniff the ground? It's because they smell a crosser and keep searching until they find it."

"That's preposterous.” Glancing through the screen door, Theo spotted two men parking a golf cart next to the resort's shuttle van. He pushed through the door. “Excuse me. Can you give me directions to the nearest police station?” When they didn't answer, he shouted again. Rushing toward the golfers, Theo brushed past Jane.

When Jane opened the door, Sadie announced, “We have a new guest."

"That's nice,” Jane said. “That must mean we have a full house."

"We sure do. Our latest guest is a bit skeptical. But he'll be back."

"Are any of them here now?” Jane asked.

"All of them except the newest one."

"Even Mr. Nasty?” Jane shifted the bag of groceries to her other hip.

Sadie sighed. “Yes, Rodney's here. He's in the inner room doing what he does best. Nothing."

Jane took the groceries from the bag and handed each item to Mr. Bakke. The elderly gentleman placed the canned goods on the shelf, taking care to turn each label face forward. He tapped the cans into alignment. As he stacked the smaller cans of dog food, he rotated them until the dog's heads aligned in a perfect column. Seven Spaniels stared back at him. He turned toward Jane and waited for the nod of approval before folding the paper bag and placing it on a shelf in the pantry.

"I think I'll go back to my cabin,” he whispered to Jane. “I get nervous when Sadie has a full house. I keep sitting on them."

"That doesn't matter,” Jane said. “Sadie told me the crossers are supposed to watch out for us. It's not our fault we can't see them. Besides, it's my cabin and I'll sit wherever I darn well please."

Jane directed her attention to Sadie. “What's the name of our new guest?"

"Theopholis Peter."

Splaying her hand against her chest Jane said, “How do you know that?"

"How do I know what?” Sadie turned to face her sister.

"About his peter?"

Placing her hands on her hips, Sadie said, “What are you talking about?"

"Well you said he had the awfulest peter. I want to know how you know that. Was he naked when he got here?"

"Good God, Jane. Sometimes I wonder if you're the crazy sister instead of me. I said his name is Theopholis Peter. Theopholis Jamison Peter. We call him Theo. Now do you understand?"

The men from the golf cart approached Theo. He repeated his request for directions a third time. “I'm sorry to bother you, but I seem to be lost. Can you help me?"

As Theo met the men, they continued without acknowledging him. Theo spun and reached out to grab one of the men. His hand clamped around the man's arm, but the man kept walking.

Gasping for air, Theo dropped to his knees. “It can't be. This can't be happening.” He laid the briefcase in front of his knees, dialed the combination, released the latch. He inserted his fingers into the silk pocket lining the lid. He withdrew a small black bag. As he ran his fingers over the fabric, a tear dropped and beaded on one corner of the bag. He rocked back and forth clutching the bag. He sobbed, “Why? Why did this have to happen now?"