Nearly Departed by Max Schlienger (read novels website .TXT) 📗

“You’d think the whole bloody chair would be!” Bob exclaimed. He grumbled something under his breath and took his anger out on the chair with a well-placed kick.

A deafening explosion assaulted Dennis’ eardrums at the same time that a violent shockwave, hot and powerful, threw him away from the chair and across the yard. He landed badly, and what little breath the detonation hadn’t forced from his lungs was quickly expelled by the painful blow of his back slamming into the ground. A high-pitched ringing in his ears blocked out any other sounds, and it took several moments of bewildered blinking before he realized that the painful disk of bright light at the center of his vision was, in fact, the sun. The entire front of his body felt like it had been pummeled by a fist made of red-hot iron, and it only intensified when he instinctively curled up in an effort to breathe.

He might have stayed there for hours had his mind not reminded him that both Bobo and Elspeth had probably been hit by the blast as well. With a groan of effort that was inaudible to his own ears, Dennis waged an internal war against his protesting muscles until he had finally wrestled himself into a huddled kneeling position. Bobo was several yards away, propped up on one hand as he twirled a finger in his ear canal. The ridiculous open-mouthed expressions passing across the man’s face told Dennis that his friend had also lost his sense of hearing, and was trying to regain it by any means possible. He scanned the yard, mildly concerned at how suddenly vibrant the colors seemed, until he spotted Elspeth’s dainty figure splayed out near the overturned table. He made an effort to stand and stagger towards her, but instead had to crawl forward on all fours, lest his aching limbs rebel and impede his progress.

Dennis was relieved when Elspeth waved off his attempts at helping her, and more than a little jealous when she climbed to her feet unaided. A black and white mess of Backgammon pieces littered the ground nearby, as Dennis discovered rather painfully when he sat on a die hidden in the grass. He watched as Elspeth pushed the table and its surrounding chairs back upright, the entire thing like a scene from a silent movie accompanied only by a perpetually ringing bell.

Muscles ached in protest as Dennis was suddenly hauled to his feet, but the feeling that he had lost a fight against a rabid bulldozer had mercifully begun to subside. He let himself be led to one of the chairs, and tensed painfully as he fell into it. Given the choice, Dennis thought, he would have preferred to stay on the grass. Bobo walked around from behind him, his giddy demeanor having returned with such fervor that Dennis wondered if the man had taken a blow to the head.

Words were mouthed to him, but the ringing in Dennis’ head had not yet faded to the point where they were intelligible. He pointed to his ears meaningfully.

“I can’t hear anything,” Dennis said. The sound of his own voice came to him as if through miles of cotton. It must been louder than he’d intended, though, because Bobo made hasty shushing motions in response. A few moments later, two glasses were placed on the table. Remembering his experience from earlier in the week, Dennis took a careful sip of the contents before downing one of the containers in grateful relief. One surprise glass of gin had been more than enough.

“Anything broken, Dennis?” asked Elspeth from behind him. Her words were muffled and carried an odd buzzing quality, but at least he could make them out.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. His vision, which he hadn’t even realized had been tunneling, faded back to normal. “What happened?” He looked over at Bobo, who was staring off in the direction of the chair. Steeling himself against further surprises, Dennis followed his gaze.

The chair remained where it had been, upright and unaffected by the events of the past several minutes. If anything, it looked moderately better than it had earlier, probably as a result of having any still-clinging dust either burned or blown away.

“I don’t think she liked that much,” Bobo observed.

Dennis snorted. “Really? What was your first clue?” Something about the scene seemed a little bit strange, even when he ignored the obvious. It was another moment before the hidden detail became apparent. “Flowers,” Dennis stated, pointing towards the chair.

“Flowers?” repeated Bobo. “What about them?”

“Look at the flowers behind the chair,” Dennis prompted. “What do you see?”

Bobo squinted for a few seconds. “Irises?” he guessed.

“Quite right,” interjected Elspeth. Dennis glanced over to see the woman picking up the last pieces of the scattered game. “They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

“Very lovely, ma’am,” Bobo agreed.

“Yeah, lovely irises,” said Dennis hastily. “What do you notice about them, though?”

“That they’re very lovely!” Bobo declared. He beamed at Elspeth, who shared a smile with him.

“They’re also still there,” Dennis impatiently pointed out. “That blast was powerful enough to knock the table over, but the flowers that are two feet away look fine.”

“Oh, actually, Dennis,” said Elspeth gently, “I’m afraid it was me who knocked the table over.” She brushed at herself idly. “The whole thing toppled with me when I tried to catch myself, and it brought a few of the chairs down with it.”

Dennis considered this for a moment. “Are you telling me,” he said slowly, “that the explosion only hit the three of us?”

Bobo shrugged. “Looks like it.”

“That’s impossible!” Dennis exclaimed. Bobo shrugged again.

“More impossible than a ghost what haunts a chair?”

“Yes!” sputtered Dennis. “Well, no. I don’t know!” He gritted his teeth and felt one of his eardrums pop back into place, putting him slightly off-balance. “Anyway, it’s not supposed to work like that. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.”

“I don’t know that I could take another one of her reactions,” Bobo said. He scratched his head as he