Dimensions

John realized that he was still standing. He wasn’t dead at all! He reached for his Bowie knife but he couldn’t grasp it. It was there, he just couldn’t move it. Then he noticed that Esposito was not even looking at him. He was looking down at the floor at John’s feet. John looked, too, and saw – himself lying on the floor. Not possible! How could he be standing here and lying there, too?

“How’d you do that?” Carlos asked and John looked up again to see Carlos looking at him from his barstool seat.

“Do what?” he said dumbly.

“You spleet eento two. How deed you do eet?”

“You’re dead!” Johnny remembered and stared at Carlos. His throat was not cut at all. . . Then he saw another Carlos lying on the floor in a pool of blood. “What the hell’s going on?!” he exclaimed. He grabbed Esposito by the shoulder of his leather jacket but his hand passed right through the man’s body. Esposito had not even known he’d been touched.

Who’s dead?” Carlos asked.

“You! You Mexican ignoramus! You’re dead! Esposito cut your throat!” John pointed to the still figure on the floor behind Carlos.

Carlos turned and looked, then did a double take.

“Ahhh!” he gasped. “Mother of God! I am also spleet eento two!

Now what do we do?”

“How could you just sit there and let the bastard cut your throat?”

“Me? He keel you weeth the same knife! Why don’t you do sometheeng? He don’t even know we’re here. You can feenish heem off now.”

John stared at Carlos as though he’d never seen him before.

“You’re right – he doesn’t know we’re here. Why is that? How is it that you and I can see and hear them but they can’t see or hear us?”

This fact shocked Carlos into submission. “We must be ghosts,” he said and his eyes grew round and wide.

“Shhhheeeetttttt – there aren’t any ghosts.”

“Madre de Dios.” Carlos crossed himself vigorously and looked around the almost empty diner. John followed his gaze and noticed Mano for the first time. He was bending over John’s prostrate form yelling at Joe and gesturing like a wild man.

“We are now murderers! Murder, Joe. T h a t ’s exactly what it is.”

“He would have killed me.”

“How do you know? How do you know he came to kill you?”

“What was I supposed to do – wait and see?” Esposito bent over and extracted the blade from Johnny’s chest. “We have to get rid of these bodies and clean up this floor before Alberto returns.”

“Alberto! Holy Mother! We don’t have long. What do we do with them? ”

“Bring the car to the back door. There are some pretty big garbage bags in the kitchen.”

“Garbage bags!” Carlos exclaimed. “Johnee – they’re going to hide our bodies!”

“Of course they are. What’d you expect?”

“Keel him!”

“ You kill him.”

“How? Weeth what?”

John shrugged and held his hands in a helpless gesture.

“ We cannot have funerals if they hide our bodies.”

“So what?”

Carlos shrieked. “No funeral – no mass. Purgatory! Purgatory, Johnee. Do you know what that means?” In helpless frustration, he watched John pull the Bowie knife from his belt. He had trouble grasping it and dropped it. Both men watched in amazement as the knife disappeared through the floor of the diner.

“Did you see that?” John breathed. “That sucker went right through the floor.”

“Eet was a ghost knife.” Carlos nodded. “The real one ees over there.” He pointed to John’s body.

John was staring at the floor where the knife vanished, totally oblivious to Carlos. “Where the hell did it go? Why don’t we go through the floor?”

“You don’t go through the floor because you choose not to.”

John’s head jerked up and he squinted at Carlos. “What’d you say? ”

“I don’t say notheeng – he deed.” Carlos answered. He was staring over John’s shoulder with a peculiar expression. John whirled and saw two men standing behind him. Behind them, a very bright light was taking on human form. A soft glow emanated from the men who smiled and nodded at John.

“My name is Charles and this is Jordan. I’m your guide, John – and Jordan is the guide of Carlos.”