Thanks for the Sandwich

As dawn breaks upon the Old House, Esther Friedman awakes to find herself arising in a room, the night before, she had decided to abandon. For the strange and enigmatic young woman, Samantha Brook, has become such a disruption in her life Esther had made rhe decision to pack her belongings and leave the Old House. Only, Nicole Collins’ anxious visit to her room, where Nicole rather emotionally revealed the depth of her commitment to their friendship, had stopped her. And so Esther arises to find herself, this cold Maine morning, still living within the Old Collins mansion, as she prepares to once again guard what has become a dearest friend, during her most vulnerable hours—

The door is partly open as Esther stands thoughtfully looking into the master bedroom. There on the bed — rather than in the confines of the coffin that is secreted in a small room (within the secret room, hidden behind the sliding panel) — Nikki lies beneath the creamy hued sheet, which is pulled up and folded across her breasts, held secured by the weight of her hands, resting in that oh so familiar mortuary pose. Is she dead or merely sleeping? Esther was always wondered – if she were to silently slip into the room and stand close to the bed would she be able to detect the slightest rise and fall of a breath. Her earlier curiosity had revealed to her observant eye that when Nikki was up at night she did seem to breathe – although something far more arrhythmic than that of a normal . . . living human.

It is in these early morning hours, alone in the huge old mansion, the only sound the ticking of several old clocks, the creaks of a house left alone, when no one’s about to walk upon the hardwood floors, when she occasionally found herself standing at the door to check upon the sleeping beauty she has chosen to guard, she wonders – is she really dead.

She is very well aware that Nikki is a vampire – but does that mean she’s really dead. Her flesh – it isn’t rotting. Flies and maggots do not kiss her while she sleeps. She is not the bluing hue that colors the flesh when oxygen fails to circulate—the color of a corpse. Esther has hunted the woods for years and she knows what death looks like, she knows its smell. Nikki does not smell dead. Neither does Rhyaad for that matter. Are they not called Undead – meaning what, they have transcended death? They have somehow walked right up to that door, that bright light at the end of a tunnel, and rather than pass right on through – they what? took a turn somewhere. Went through another door – a door that leads to un-death.

And what does that mean?

Esther slowly buttons her overcoat.

“Don’t leave me Esther.” Nikki had said to her last night.

“I won’t!” Esther whispers now and grips her rifle. She turns and walks back along the narrow corridor to her room and slips out the balcony door.

The morning sky is bright. It’s cold, but it’s going to be a beautiful day, and Esther, the huntress, settles into her alert watchfulness.

Perhaps an hour, a little more, judging from the sun, Esther moves forward and peers down into the wooded grounds. What was that?

Samantha Brook feels the cold air painfully in her lungs as she continues to run. She leaps over a sunken indention of earth, decaying leaves kicking up around her muddy sneakers. Behind her she hears the pack of dogs gaining.

“What the hell?” Esther sees Samantha Brook running hard and behind her an advancing, and quickly gaining, pack of dogs.

Esther steps forward and fires her shotgun in an attempt to scare the dogs off. A loud booming reverberation echoing through the grounds and surrounding woods, fired as it is from the height of the balcony.

The dogs, as if running into a wall of sound, stop in the hard echoes and turn to flee as Samantha dives into the ground, pulling her arms over her head – not at all sure where the shot came from.

Esther opening her balcony door she rushes to the head of the stairs, a quick look to see that Nikki has not moved a muscle as she races down the curved stairs. She hurries through the foyer and out the front door. Crossing the drive she quickly reaches Samantha.

“Are you alright!?”

Samantha looks up – trying to be all brazen, but Esther can see the anxiety in her eyes, “First dogs, then some blazing idiot shooting at me, do you friggin’ think I’m alright?!”

“Come on.” Esther reaches down and helps her up, “Let’s get inside.”

Samantha gives Esther an odd look as she stands dusting off her pants, knocking mud and leaves away, before she follows Esther’s marching stride.

Inside the Old House, Samantha stands looking around – the house is a mansion – the home of some old world New England aristocrat.

“Ya want some beer?” Esther asks as she walks through the foyer back into the kitchen as she heads over to the fridge.

Samantha blinks surprised. “If its no trouble.”

Esther returns, unbuttoning her great double-breasted overcoat, as she carries two bottles of beer and hands one to Sam. “Here. Have a seat.”

Esther slings off her shotgun and leans it against the chair arm as she takes a seat in her usual spot.

“umm..” Samantha taking a long drink, “Thank you.” And she walks into the sitting room and settles into the chair opposite Esther “So…” looking around, “Who lives here?”

“Well. Right Now, Nik an’ I.” Esther answers sipping her beer.

Samantha takes a sip looking rather surprised, “So you . . . you’re Miss Nikki’s…?” her voice trailing off but the implication is well articulated.

“What!? No!” Esther says and pushes back her warm hat, “I watch th’place while she sleeps.

Samantha for a moment looks taken aback at the strength of the denial.

“I’m her friend. A good friend mind ya, but just a friend

Samantha nods “Okay . . . “

“So. Whas with th’ dogs?” Esther asks taking a drink.

“Oh,” Samantha leans down and reaches into her bag and pulls out a slightly crushed corned beef sandwich, “I think they wanted this.”

“Is…” Esther cocks an eyebrow, “is that my sandwich?”

“Ummm . . . well . . .it was supposed to be a replacement… “

“Ah…. thank you….”

Samantha sets it on the table, a light shade of pink- “That looked better before the dogs started chasing me…”

“I’m sure.” Esther takes a sip of beer as she looks at the sandwich. “I’ll just put this in the fridge,” and she sets her beer down and picks up the sandwich.

Samantha nods taking another drink, “You have great design sense,” she offers as she continues to look around.

“Me? F*** no. That’s nik.” Esther calls out from the kitchen, “I usually keep to my room. Have a shack out in th’woods I used t’ live in. jus’ a bed, a table, few chairs an a stove fer th’ most part.” She opens the refrigerator and puts the sandwich inside.

“So why did you leave it?” Samantha replies loudly enough for Esther to hear her.

“Things started gettin’ dicey when that thing” Esther returns, wiping her hands together, “Well—lets just say there is safety in numbers. “

Samantha with a drink of beer looks at Esther, “What thing?”

“Well…I’d rather not talk about it. Lets just say some pretty crazy S*** goes down here sometimes.”

“Actual crazy or Scooby Doo men in mask crazy?” Samantha chuckles.

“Ancient entities that take over people’s bodies and stab other people in the abdomen with magical f***in blades crazy. “

Samantha smiles around her top of hr beer bottle, “Sounds like HMO liposuction.. .”

“wha?”

‘Oh, never mind” Samantha smirks.

Esther looks at her, picks up her bottle and sits back down taking a drink.

Samantha looks over at her, “Do you ever take off that hat?”

“It is cold, even inside.” But she reaches up and takes the hat off. “This is a very warm hat”

“hmmm” Samantha replies, “I can help with the cold… slightly at least.”

Esther oddly hands the hat over for inspection as Samantha rises and walks around toward the fireplace.

In front of the small-banked fire, Samantha reaches into her clothes pulling out newspaper and tosses them into the fire, watching as the flames grow higher.

Samantha looks at the hat as she walks back into the sitting room, “Tis a nice hat”

“Thank you.” Esther takes the hat back and places it upon her head.”

Samantha resumes her seat, sips the beer, looks out the large front window out toward the woods lit not in the mid-day sun, “Why did you have that shotgun?” She asks, suddenly aware that Esther must have been out and about carrying the weapon earlier.

“Because I am a hunter. That is what I did fer most of m’ life before starting the detective business with Nik. Really, She’s the brains, I’m the Muscle.”

“Why hunt?” Samantha turns from the window looking now at Esther, “Problem with shopping?”

“It’s what I’m good at. People need things like deer, moose and rabbit, and so on. So I supply that need. “

Samantha nods as she listens but can help asking, “So, who needs a moose?”

“You would be surprised how many people need moose or at least want one.”

I don’t want a moose.”

“Then I won’t shoot one for you.”

“But . . . know what . . . “ Samantha begins but is well aware of what Nikki had told her last night – “Esther is my best friend, and so, I strongly suggest you find a way to get along with her”, the ‘or else’ was never articulated, but Samantha had heard it very loudly nevertheless, “Never mind.”

“So. Do you know your way around yet?”

“I know the offices . . . the teashop . . . and the cemetery . . . that’s about it ,” Samantha chuckles-.

“Well. One of these days, we’ll show you around. Dun worry.”

Samantha takes a drink and glances over at her, “Depends on what happens Thursday doesn’t it?” She smiles rather darkly.

Esther doesn’t say anything, just looks at her.

Samantha nervously takes another swig of beer.

Esther tries to think of the right words to say – but isn’t certain what they are.

Samantha notices the expression of mixed emotions, “Don’t bother,” She says, “Just know this . . . I’m going, but if they fail me. I’m not being admitted.

Esther takes a slow drink.

“I’ve run before from such things.”

“I’m only thinking of what’s best for ya… I mean they are professionals. It’s what they do best.”

Samantha gives Esther a look to say I can’t believe you really think that – “Tell me—if you went to one of these professionals and told them . . .what was it again?” She ponders a moment, ‘Oh, yeah, ancient entities that take over people’s bodies and stab other people in the abdomen with magical f***in blades, you know the crazy stuff that has happened to you . . . what would they say?”

“For one, I was reluctant to tell you that much. For two, if professionals found me crazy, I would take their advice.” Esther tells her looking at her beer bottle, “If they could help me, I would do whatever it takes.”

“Hmm,” Samantha sighs, “So you don’t think your crazy, even though you admit to such a happening? ”

“For that incident, I did not see such an incident occur. It was relayed to me from Rhyaad. But I trust him.’

“Maybe he should get his head examined too,” Samantha can’t help saying with a satisfied smirk.

“If it helps.”

Samantha laughs.

Esther sits looking at her, and is not laughing.

“It feels . . . strange.”

“What does?”

“Whatever she did to me last night. Being able to think logically. To not just be some mess on the floor—to be . . . whole . . . if that makes any sense>’

Esther is still at a lost for words, not knowing what to say, so she takes a drink of her beer instead.

“I see that it does not,” Samantha says.

“I’ve had good times, and I’ve had bad times. But I won’t pretend to understand what it was like for you. “

Samantha shrugs, “Very well.” She sets her bottle down, “So why did you become an investigator?”

“Well. One night at the bar, I managed to subdue a drunk and get her safely to the police. Nik had already been talking about getting into the detective job, and she mentioned I could be a cop. Well, turns out I’m not cop material, so the two of us joined up, as I says, she’s the brains, I’m the brawn.”

“What did you do to piss off the drunk?” Samantha asks sitting back in the chair.

“I did not piss her off. She pissed herself off.” Esther explains, “I just stopped her from throwing any more bottles.”

Samantha smirks a bit, “Sounds like a friend of mine,” and she rises out of the chair and stretches, obscene popping noises coming from her joints.

She looks around, “Well—I’ll be off then.”

“Will you be alright from the dogs?”

“Should be now that I don’t have food on me.”

“Alright then.”

Samantha heads to the door.

“Thanks for the sandwich.”

Cue Music End Of Episdoe