Chapter 10

10: The smell of fried chicken.  Randall Switter was just starting to come down from his adrenalin rush.  After watching Glen disappear, Randy had fled for his life.  Unseen hands had silently pulled him into a dark room.  Those hands belonged to Sam Wine.  Sam was the inhabitant of this apartment.  Apparently, he was cooking up some fried chicken.  It smelled delicious.
  "Randall, were there any others with you?"
  "Yeah, three guys outside and one upstairs.  I think Glen's dead, though."
  "Damn!  I had tried to stop you before you went up, but you ran up there as if your lives depended on it."
  "Yeah, Glen had to use the bathroom."
  "That's a damn shame.  Did you know him well?"
  "No.  We were put together as part of a rescue team to find survivors out here."
  "You two and the other three guys outside?"
  "Yeah.  They're keeping an eye out at the entrance to the building for any zombies."
  "You should go get them.  The zombies don't come here.  This place scares them.  It's haunted."
  "It figures.  I got zombies outside, ghosts inside.  Do you see the irony here?  We're stuck in the middle here with soulless bodies on the one hand and bodiless spirits on the other.  I don't know if I'd rather laugh or piss myself.  I think both."  Sam sat silently as Randy went to the others and told them about what had happened to Glen and then about finding Sam.  They agreed to come inside.
  After a round of introductions, the timer went off on the oven.  "If you'll excuse me for just one moment."  Sam went into the kitchen to check on the chicken.  He came back with a steaming platter full of fried chicken.
  "You know, it's too bad Lowe ain't here with us.  I hear that Chinese people really like fried chicken," said Ben.
  Randy looked confused.  "The Chinese?  I thought that was somebody else that really likes fried chicken."
  Ben nodded.  "Well, that's just a stereotype."
  "That looks like enough chicken for all of us," observed Mickey.
  "Yes, I have been saving it for a special occasion.  Today seemed to be just that day."
  "But you were all by yourself.  Why did you cook so much chicken?  And why is today so special?"
  "Oh well, you see, today is the day that you have come to my house."
  "But you couldn't have known that we were coming and how many of us there'd be."
  "Well that does take some explaining doesn't it?  Why don't we discuss it over dinner?"  Everyone agreed and helped themselves to some tender, juicy thighs and drumsticks.  There was also a fresh pot of coffee.  He prepared each of their coffees to their liking.  As usual, Sam took his with two sugars and a splash of cream.
  "There's no simpler way to put it except to say that I am a psychic."  Everyone at the table looked at each other, then to him.  "I knew you were coming today.  As I told Randy, I tried to keep him and Glen from going up the stairs, but I wasn't fast enough.  I knew Glen was going to die, but I failed to prevent that.  I did prepare enough chicken for him too, but unfortunately, we shall have to dine upon his portion as well."  Ben put down his fifth piece of chicken, suddenly not hungry any more.
  "How do you know you're a psychic?" asked Sauro.
  Sam took a sip of coffee.  "I don't know.  How do you know that you have the sense of smell?"
  Sauro's eyes went wide.  "Because I can smell things."  He swept imaginary crumbs off his lap.
  Sam nodded his head.  "Exactly.  I can sense things that aren't immediately obvious to most people.  I first became aware of this gift when I was seven.  My father was dying of stomach cancer.  Near the end, he asked me to come to the side of his bed to sit and talk to him.  He took my hand and asked how school was that day.  As I recanted the various details of my day, he was asking me questions here and there.  Then his voice seemed to stand up from the bed, walk around my chair and put his hand on my shoulder.  My hand was still holding his as his body lay in the bed.  I finally realized what had happened.  He had died some time during our conversation and his spirit had left his body.  I wept, but he told me to be strong.  We said our goodbyes and then he crossed over to the other side."  Sam used a toothpick to persuade some persistent chicken gristle out from between his teeth.