The Next Line 10

"Whoa. What's that smell?"

Tracy stepped out of the elevator behind me, sniffed deeply and gagged. "It smells like . . . " She stopped mid-sentence, her mouth opened and her fingers clenching the end of her nose.

"Crap."

Tracy nodded and nasaled out, "Yeah."

"Or an old folks home. Pine cleaner and rotting adult diapers and..." I paused while my heart skipped to double-time. "And death."

"What?"

A ding sounded and the elevator abandoned us before we contemplated fleeing. My attention was drawn further down the hall, to a lifeless foot protruding from an alcove, and a neon sign blinking for us to LOOK HERE! LOOK HERE! Like idiots, we did.

"Oh my God, is she dead?" Tracy let go of her nose for a second before squeezing it shut again. "I'm going to puke." She looked around, apparently needing a trashcan. "And what the hell is with the smell?"

"I've heard when you die your body purges itself."

Tracy stared at me in a new kind of horror. "She shit herself? Is this what you're telling me?"

I cupped my hand over my mouth and nose but it didn't help. The smell seemed to invade the pores. "Yeah," I breathed out. "I guess no one ever told her . . . Never, never order the chili at Del Taco."


Dialogue: Brenda Bradshaw.....The Next Line: insanity