50 Death Is Not A Dress Rehearsal (2/2)

When they left the pantry to carry the day's food into the kitchen, an excited Susan Ramsey pounced on them waving a handbill.

”You won't believe what's happening,” she said.

”First things first,” said Dave. ”Who was that?”

”The soldiers delivering the water. They said it's the last delivery we get,” his wife said, looking mischievous.

”And that makes you happy?”

”Yes. Because we're going to have water running again within the next twelve hours. So they said. And power will be back on any day.”

”That is very good news,” said Harold with deep feeling. ”Where's Gladys? I have to tell her.”

”She already knows. She's gone back to your house to fetch a couple of implant kits and hiber beds.”

”What? She's going to get us arrested!”

”We've decided - me and Gladys have decided to reincarnate ourselves in the New World. We'll hide the implants in our hair. Sorry you can't do the same,” said Susan Ramsey, looking at her husband's bald pate.

”No, no, no,” said Harold. ”We're going to do exactly what we've agreed to do. Wait till they open a Colonial Office, buy licenses to colonize, and return to the New World only then.”

”He's right,” Dave Ramsey said to his wife. ”Off you go, Harold. Sorry I won't accompany you, but we'll get going on the food in the meantime. As you know, it's a long and complicated process.”

Harold nodded. Preparing a meal involved lighting a fire in the Ramseys' backyard. The rice took forever to cook even when they'd soaked it in water beforehand.

”All right,” he said. ”I'll be back soon. As so will Gladys.”

He left the Ramseys' house and as he was crossing the road, he saw there was activity down the street. He stopped to have a good look when he saw it was centered around the renters' house.

Soldiers were carrying stretchers out of the house. And the bodies on the stretchers were encased in body bags.

He felt his heart miss a beat. They were dead! They were dead for real! Dave and himself hadn't just killed the renters in the New World. They had killed the originals on Earth, too!

He was aghast at this. Gladys hadn't been killed by the renters; it was only her second self that had died in the New World. He had to find what had happened to the renters.

He walked up to the soldiers, who were rather unceremoniously dumping the body bags onto the two handcarts parked in front of the renters' house. There was a solitary soldier standing nearby, monitoring the loading of the carts. He had a a couple of chevrons on his sleeve and looked tired and angry and slightly sick, as if he was about to throw up.

”Excuse me, corporal,” said Harold. ”I live just a few houses down the street. Can you tell me what happened here?”

The soldier looked at him angrily.

”The people who lived in that house are dead,” he said. ”Have been dead for some time.”

”Oh God,” Harold said. ”Oh my God. If we had only known - ”

”What are you talking about?” the corporal asked sharply.

Harold recovered quickly.

”We're neighbors,” he said. ”We could have helped them, but we didn't know. We had no idea they were sick. Really. We - ”

”Relax, grandpa,” said the corporal. ”Don't worry about all that. They overdosed on drugs. Bunch of fucking junkies.”

”I see,” Harold said.

He turned away and began walking home, head hung low.

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