Chapter Twenty-Nine

I grabbed the box and my trusty shovel, then started into the woods behind the dumpster in search of a good spot to dig a shallow grave. Normally, I’d avoid the forest at all costs, but after everything that had happened, I found it almost impossible to care. The only thing on my mind was getting rid of the box (and its contents) for good, and I needed it to be somewhere far enough away from the gas station that I’d never have to see it again.

I found a small clearing with minimal roots and vegetation and started digging. My mind raced through the memories of all those times I’d been forced to use this shovel in the past. When I had to bury a box of mice. When I was forced to dig my own grave. When I was hypnotized under the will of a dark god. 

Spencer was right. It’s a strange thing to be proud of, but I was really good at digging holes. Before I knew it, I was standing in a grave about three feet deep. This was already more than adequate, but some part of me was dreading the finality of filling in the hole and leaving behind what was left of my last friend.

I climbed out and picked up the box. This was it. No reason to keep putting it off. The sun would be setting soon, and I needed to give myself enough time to get back to the gas station before the nocturnal forest dwellers began to wake.

I thought about saying a few words first, but I knew that the whole purpose of funeral ceremonies was to offer some kind of closure to the ones we leave behind, and nothing I could do was going to leave me with any kind of closure, so it was pointless.

On the other hand, now that I was standing here, holding the box, I couldn’t help myself.

“Alright, bud. It’s been a crazy ride and I know you deserve better, but this is the best I can do. If there is an afterlife, I’m sure you and Vanessa are saving me a spot at the cool table.”

I knelt down onto my good knee and placed the box inside the hole, but before I could get back up, I heard someone say, “Man, this is seriously effed up.”

I grabbed the shovel and jumped up to my feet (or foot, whatever) as fast as I could.

“Hello?” I called out. “Somebody there?”

I waited, but there was no response.

Why did I think this was a good idea?

I backed away from the hole and searched the perimeter of the clearing, keeping both hands on the shovel. “Look, whoever’s out there, this isn’t what it looks like.”

As soon as I said it, I realized that I probably should have kept my mouth shut. For all they knew, I was just burying a dead pet. But nothing screams “suspicious” louder than me standing here holding my shovel like a weapon and saying, “This isn’t what it looks like.”

But then I realized that if someone else were out here with me, there was approximately a zero percent chance they were innocent themselves. Just to be safe, I tightened my grip on the shovel and held my breath to see if I could figure out where that voice had come from.

I’d almost convinced myself I’d imagined it when he spoke again. “Oh snap! You can hear me?”

“Maybe,” I said, turning slowly, trying not to panic over the fact that I still had no idea where the voice was coming from. “Who wants to know?”

“Dude, I’m not trying to freak you out or nothing, but you should prepare yourself because things are about to get hella weird.”

The voice didn’t sound like it was coming from anywhere. And at the same time, it was everywhere. Inside my head. Impossible, but completely real.

“Where are you?”

“Over here.”

“I don’t know what ‘over here’ means. I can’t see you. Are you pointing or something?”

“Dude. Walk straight ahead.” I carefully took a step forward, and the voice started to sing, “Cooolder.”

“Then why would you even tell me to walk forward?!” He didn’t answer. After a second passed, I yelled out, “I’m not playing your game, creepy forest voice!”

That’s when he started humming. The sound was just as loud and clear and omnidirectional as his voice had been, and I hated that I recognized the tune. He was humming the Jeopardy theme song.

Whatever was going on here, I knew that the person behind that voice had the upper hand. I sighed and accepted that I was going to be playing the creepy forest voice’s game after all.

I took a step backwards, and the voice stopped humming just long enough to say “Warmer.”

I took another step. 

“Waaarmer.”

I turned around and walked right up to the hole.

“Burning up!” he sang.

“Well where the hell are you?!” 

“Down here.”

I looked down at the hole in front of me. At the box sitting at the bottom.

“Oh come on.” I pleaded. “Don’t do this to me.”

The voice was completely silent now.

“Please don’t fucking do this to me.”

I stood there for way too long, staring at the box. I’m not sure how long I was standing there, but the next thing I knew, it was pitch black. I’d missed the sunset altogether. I was stuck inside this moment while time passed on the outside. The sound of forest insects had filled the cold night air, and I hadn’t moved in who-knows-how-long.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and turned on the flashlight to see that the box was still there at the bottom of the hole, right where I’d left it.

Had I imagined everything? Maybe. Probably. But I had to know for sure. 

I dropped down to the ground, pulled out the box, and took off the lid.

“It’s my head in a box!” Jerry sang as soon as the light hit his pale-white skin. I gagged reflexively before Jerry went on with the next verse. “It’s my head in a box, giiirrrlll…” I dropped him to the ground, and he bounced and yelled, “Whoa Nelly!”

“What the hell is this?!” I screamed. “Jerry! You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Look dude,” said the disembodied head of my old friend, “I’m just as confused by all of this as you are. Trust me.” As he spoke, his jaw moved up and down. His lips pressed together to form the words, and his tongue moved around inside of his mouth. But it was all impossible. There was no way he could be talking. “I never signed the permission slip to get turned into a zombie head. I don’t even remember how I got here. Last thing I know, I was cooking fish sticks over an open fire and trying to decide which suit to wear to my birthday party.”

I forced myself to look at him. He turned his milky-white eyes to meet mine.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” I said, “but you got decapitated by Spencer Middleton.”

“Aw man! That guy is such a jerk!”

“And now I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind.”

“Oh, dude!” he exclaimed. “I know what this is.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“No, really! I read about this in a book once. This is your mind’s way of giving you a chance to say goodbye.”

“Wait. So you’re actually agreeing with me that you aren’t real? That you’re just a figment of my imagination?”

“Ha. That’s such a funny word, isn’t it? Figment. It’s like a piece of a fig.”

“Alright, fine. How does this work? I tell you how mad I am that you weren’t more careful? But that would make me a hypocrite, because there’s nobody else in this God-forsaken town who plays faster and looser with their own safety than me, huh? So I’m pissed at myself. Doubly so for letting you go off and get killed. And while we’re at it, I should go ahead and say how sorry I am for letting this happen in the first place. I messed up and it’s all my fault. I let Spencer get away. I let Howard get away. I let Aggie get away. Not anymore, though. Starting now, I’m going to fight like hell and make damned sure that nobody else has to get beheaded against their will.”

“Whoop whoop,” he yelled. “If I could clap right now, I would. Did that help? Do you feel better?”

“No. Not particularly. But as a weird bug-eyed guy once told me, help don’t always feel good.” I stopped once I realized what I’d said and gave off a short laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” Jerry’s head asked.

“Bug-eyed.” I laughed again. Then he laughed. “What are you laughing at?” I asked.

“‘Figment.’”

We both laughed a little too long, and then I closed the lid and picked the box up to drop it back in its final resting place.

“Wait!” he screamed from everywhere.

“What?”

“You can’t just leave me out here like this!”

“Well I can’t take you back with me. You’re a severed human head. If someone finds you, I’m going straight to jail. You know, plus, you’re an abomination of nature.”

“Aw, come on, man. I’ve got like a hundred head-based puns I’ve been waiting to try out. Let me stick around. I can help! I can totally help. You can let me be in charge of, like, inventory or something.”
“You’re a disembodied head in a box.”
“You’re being racist!”
“What?! No it’s—” I caught myself. “Why am I even arguing with you?”

I dropped the box into the hole in the ground and started to bury him. With each shovelful, I muffled his screams. Everything that was left of Jerry became dimmer and dimmer, until I couldn’t hear him at all. Finally, after everything he’d been through, my friend Jerry was no more, and once again I was all alone.

I barely made it out of the woods and back to the gas station before my phone battery finally died.