Dead Envy

1

Stan Bronstein sat down in front of his terminal; his chubby fingers moving deftly on the keyboard as entered his password.  He took a deep swallow of his Zippo Cola, as his terminal beeped into life.  He yawned loudly, stretching his arms out behind him.  He hated the night shift.  He’d worked for ANKH Enterprises for over four years; he’d recently been assigned as senior tech – which was a fancy name for Baby-sitting the thirty-eight residents of the ten CSC’s (cryogenic stasis chambers.)  Stan loved the money that came with the promotion; the only drawback was his tendency to fall asleep at his workstation.  Hence the caffeine pills that he was now downing with his can of energy drink.2

He yawned as the terminal pinged and showed the internal controls on the ten CSC’s.  The temperature was normal.  The temperature was always normal.  He picked up his clipboard and pulled on his white lab coat.  The coat pulled across his wide stomach and he sighed patting it gently. He walked over to the door typing in the code at the little panel.  The door whooshed open like an archaic prop on an episode on Star Trek.  His shoes echoed on the aluminium floor of the Stasis room (or The Waiting Room) as they jokingly referred to it.  3

There was something decidedly creepy about being alone with the eighteen corpses and twenty decapitated heads.  When he died, he wanted to be cremated and his ashes spread off Santa Monica pier, not frozen in time, waiting forever or until such time that the technology existed to thaw them out and fix their terminal illnesses.  The heads were another matter though; at the least the bodies stood a slim chance of life in the future, but the heads…. Stan shivered looking down his clipboard. 4

“Get a grip Stan!” He said out loud to himself.  He quickly wrote down the readings on the CSC’s and then hurried back to the comfort of his office.  5

Five minutes later he was sleeping soundly, the caffeine pills and Zippo Cola (with added Zip) having failed in their task.  6

*~*~*7

Stan’s eyes flew open; Wow what a nightmare! He thought as he pushed the can of Zippo Cola away.  Too much caffeine, he said to himself.  He took a deep breath. Breathing in and out in shuddering bursts.  He could have sworn that someone had stood by his ear and screamed into it.  He wondered if the corpses envied his life? Envied the fact that he was squandering his life, while they no longer had a choice apart from the icy oblivion of death. He shook his head.  Wow, he really needed to get a grip, it was only 12.23am; he had another six hours of this hell.8

He took a quick look at the dials on the terminal and then wandered out into the canteen, inserting some change into the snack machine.  He pushed the buttons and a bag of Doritos and a mars bar dropped into the tray.  He bent down to retrieve them from the tray; suddenly he spotted a figure out of the corner of his eye.  He moved back so fast that he fell on his backside on the cold tile floor.  He held a hand to his chest, wheezing in and out in terror.  He moved his head frantically trying to see the figure once more.  But he was alone.  He got to his feet, clutching the bag of Doritos’s like a security blanket.9

“Hello? Is anybody there?” He shouted into the room.  His voice echoed back at him.  He took a deep steadying breath and hurried out of the canteen.  The lights in the corridor flickered as he made his way back to his office.  He stood in front of the door, his index finger poised to enter his security code.  10

A cold shiver passed up his spine, and he squeezed his eyes shut not wanting to see anything.  That was it, no more – he was handing his notice in tomorrow morning.  He couldn’t stand it anymore.11

“Give it to me!” The voice whispered into his ear.  12

“Leave me alone!”  He screamed his eyes closed so tightly that he could see stars.  13

“Give it to me!” The voice demanded menacingly.  Stan opened his eyes, praying silently that it was all in his mind.14

The figure of a woman lay on the floor close to him, she was naked – her body wrapped in blue plastic.  She began to move slithering towards Stan, like a snake.  A ghostly voice echoed around the corridor, crying in desperation.15

“Give me your life!!” She demanded, her voice resonating with a now added malice around Stan’s head.16

“Stop it! Stop it!” He screamed squeezing his eyes closed and holding his hands over his ears.  17

Suddenly a pain seared through his chest, he grabbed it with his chubby hand, huffing and puffing to drag the breath into his lungs.  His eyes widened in terror as the blue plastic unravelled and an arm reached out for him.18

“ARGH!!!!!!!!!!” He screamed as the icy cold fingers gripped his arm.19

“Give me your life!!” The voice said finally, a ghostly smile creasing the dead woman’s blue lips. Then she was gone, the scent of decomposing flesh a memory that hung in the cool air-conditioned corridor.20

Stan slumped to the floor his eyes open in horror; the mars bar crushed in the dead fingers of his left hand.  He’d been right – he had discovered the truth, and the truth had killed him.  The dead really were envious of the living, but that meant nothing to him now as his ghostly image looked down at his bloated corpse in despair.  Soon his ashes would be spread from Santa Monica pier on to the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean – his Mother would bemoan the fact that he hadn’t listened to her when she’d warned him about his weight. Stan shook his head sadly – what did it matter now – He walked away from his body following the ghostly laughter of the woman who had stolen his life.  21