Blobertown, OH

“I don’t know if I need this.” I say.

Dee shrugs from the other end of the tub. “Well, better safe than sorry, right?”

My senses might be dull, but sitting like this doesn’t exactly feel all that comfortable. Could be how tiny the thing is. Could be the fact that Dee’s here with me. Could be the ice our bodies are submerged in. Hard to be sure. At the very least, I’m not cold, I guess.

“If I’ve got no flesh to decay, then there’s nothing to preserve. If there’s nothing to preserve, I don’t need the ice.” I point out.

“The jell-O might have an expiration date, you know.” she says, shifting ever so slightly.

I think her feet are pressing themselves against my stomach. Not sure how I feel about that. “I’ve given it some thought. I don’t think we should call it jell-O anymore.”

“You coined it.”

“How about: dark energy?” I suggest.

“Sure. If you wanna look like a dork.”

“What’s dorky about it?” I ask.

“Fake psychics use ‘dark energy’ when they want you to think a cowboy set himself on fire three hundred years ago in your bathroom.”

“We could take the term back.”

She shakes her head. “Or, you could just go with something like: dark matter.”

“That’s already taken, though. Like, that’s an actual thing.”

“Jell-o is also an actual thing! Look, whatever we call your… state… it’ll be for internal-use only.”

“If it’s internal-use only, who cares if some fake mediums used ‘dark energy,’ either?”

“I care.” she says. “Because psychics are literally some of the worst people out there. Defiling the memories of your loved ones by telling you dead husband is reaching out from heaven and that he’s doing A-OK.”

“Some people need the comfort, even if fake.”

“Some people need to accept loss.” Her head tilts back. Just as I’m about to warn her that the stitching might get undone if she makes a habit of it, she adds: “Besides, misery in life will be nothing to the heartbreak of finding out that your perception of the afterlife was one big giant lie. Live out your last moments expecting a beautiful reunion, only to find out husband is not only somewhere out there, stuck in a speakerphone, but you’ll likely never see him again because you yourself are an electric blanket. All because some asshole wanted to make some quick cash out of your grief.”

“To be fair, I don’t think any kind of expectation can prepare you for this.” I tell her.

“You’ll at least accept there’s a good chance you’ll be alone on the other side.”

“Do you feel alone?” I ask, deliberately.

She grins. “We both know I’m not. And neither are you.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

St. Edna’s Reach, OH

We’ve switched our positions in the tub since the last time. I don’t think it’s helping much.

“How far away are we now?” Dee asks me.

“A few more days.” I say, doing some probably pointless calculations in my head. “It’s tough. This part of the country’s got checkpoints practically everywhere. I heard they also dispatch patrols to watch over these back roads. So far, we’ve been pretty lucky.”

“I never really got that. The checkpoints. What are they expecting to catch, exactly?”

“Pretty much everything Americans are afraid of, I guess.” I remark. “Drugs. Foreigners. People who don’t like the checkpoints. Occasionally actual criminals and terrorists, but definition of those varies from state to state. And, of course—”

“Jell-O men.”

“Dark matter men.” I remind her. “But. Yeah. My, uh, state has been the main disadvantage, I guess. Before, I could at least shove you into the closet or something and try to bluff through them.”

She raises her brow. “Yeah. I remember that. Thanks.”

I sigh. “Now, though…”

“Oh! That reminds me. We should get you a disguise.”

“Sure. A papier-mâché mask. That oughta trick them.”

“Not for the checkpoints. Not even I’m crazy enough to try and risk that.” she scoffs. “I meant a disguise to walk around in public with. Nothing too special, just something to help you blend in. I’m thinking, like, a hat and a coat. You can’t just stay holed up in here all day.”

“Something tells me you just don’t want to be the one that has to go out and siphon gas.”

“That might be a part of it, yes.” She shrugs. “But. I don’t know. I guess I want us to walk around these towns a bit. Maybe see a mall or two. Prove that we can still have some kind of a life that’s not just—” she gestures vaguely with her head, “—this. We’d turn some heads sure, but—"

“Nothing stopping you from taking a stroll, you know.”

“I don’t wanna do it alone.” She smiles. “I’m not in this alone, after all.”

Damn her.

I look to the ceiling. “I don’t think any kind of disguise will do too much to fix the fact that I have no face.”

“Fine. Papier-mâché mask it is.”

“I was joking.”

“Wear a black stocking.”

“There’s a difference between turning heads and raising alarms.”

She closes her eyes. “Meh. I’m sure the hat will be enough by itself.”

Evercleave, OH

We’re doing back-to-back tonight. Dee’s idea. Positioning must be awkward for her, as well.

I keep telling her we could just not take the baths at the same time. She keeps telling me it’s a waste of ice. I keep telling her there will still be ice in the tub after the first person leaves. She keeps telling me it’ll be a pain in the ass to get in the tub for the second person, regardless. I concede, both of us knowing full-well that I’d always end up being that second person. I then suggest that I could simply not take the baths. She disagrees with the suggestion.

So.

Back-to-back it is.

“I think the disguise worked fine.” she remarks.

“A kid screamed.” I say.

“Kids scream at everything.”

“The women were giving us the looks.”

“Well, they were giving you the looks. The gardening hat really didn’t go with that coat.”

I groan. “That’s what I said! Gardening hats aren’t for public consumption unless you’re an old lady in British aristocracy! I specifically—”

“No recollection, sorry.”

“And you insisted—”

“Look! We went out for a walk! We didn’t get arrested. We didn’t get stopped. We didn’t get anything! And that’s—”

“Well, we got gas.”

“We got ga—” She pulls herself out of the tub. “What I’m saying is that we did it! This is still a victory! It means that people really don’t give a shit!”

“These people didn’t give a shit. Might be different somewhere else.”

She wraps her arms around my neck from behind. “If it is, we run! Simple as that!”

“Nothing’s that simple.”

“Running is. When you don’t need air.”

I flinches back as I stand up.

“Dee—”

“It meant a lot to me.” she says simply. “I—I know it wasn’t easy for you. I mean, you’re—you’re arguably in a more awkward position than me. And I get it. I—I guess I just wanted—”

“I know.”

“I know all the women were staring. For what it’s worth, I think they were staring at both of us. I’m a freak covered in bandages, after all.”

I put my hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t want to be alone if something… falls off.” she whispers. “It sucks that anything should be able to fall off. But I’m—I’m not going to set false expectations for myself.” She takes a step forward, as awkwardly as the ice forces it to be. “Dead or alive, it’s still too easy to lie to ourselves. I don’t want to be my own fake psychic. I don’t want to give myself fake comfort.”

I hug her.

She hugs me back.

“Real enough for you?” I ask.

She tightens her grip on me. “As good as a jell-O man can make it.”

“Dark matter man.” I correct.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Infinity Springs, OH

Tonight, we’re both on the same side of the tub. She’s leaning into me. Nobody really suggested it. Just seemed like the next reasonable thing to try, I guess.

“Who builds a casino in the suburbs?” Dee asks.

“If anything, it makes the most sense to build it there.” I say. “All the high-rollers go to Vegas or Atlantic City, right? If you build anywhere else, you’re bound to be stuck with ordinary people. But, see, there’s different kids of ordinary people, right? If you go to the rustle and bustle of a city, most of the people you’ll get are people who know their limits. They’ve got rent to pay. They’ve got to pay for their meals. There are loans they’ve got to take care of. The noise and chaos force them to keep everything in perspective, to not lose themselves in it all. When they walk into your casino, they know to keep the things that matter in mind. They know how much they’ll spend. They’ll know when they’re on a roll. And they’ll know how dangerous it is to lose it all. So, they’ll walk away before it’s too late. Before you get a chance to make any money.”

“And… suburbs aren’t like that?”

“The general problems and things to worry about are all obviously there, too. But it’s all a lot more peaceful. Quieter. You live not in spite of those hindrances, but rather the hindrances become part of the monotony. You feel content. You have everything you needed. You’ve won. And, when you feel like you’ve won, there’s only two things left: try to win at something else or give losing a shot.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, that’s how Bobby saw it, at least.”

“Mhh.” She groans. “I didn’t ask for Bobby’s opinion.”

“I give his because I don’t have one of my own.” I admitted. “I don’t gamble and I don’t care enough to know why other people might.”

“I think they’re just evil, the casinos. At their core. I think it’s one of those things that pray on people’s weaknesses.”

“Fake psychics?”

“They are, in a sense. Except, they’re not lying about the ghost of your loved one. They’re lying about you. You’re the one that’s going to get the jackpot. Just one more spin. Just one more round. Just one more something. You can’t lose anything, because you’re you. You’re not like other people. You’ve seen the other losers. You’re not a loser. So, give it a shot. Lost? That was a fluke. Give it another. It’ll be fine. Just one more.” She looks up at me. “And the best part is, they can communicate all that without any of those words ever actually being said out loud.”

“Hmm.”

“What? Disagree?”

“Not really. I’m just thinking about something else now.” I admit. “My Dad got into gambling a bit, after Mom died. He wasn’t an addict. He knew what he was doing. That was the worst part of it. He’d walk in there, place a couple of grand on the roulette wheel on the good old ‘Lucky 35’ and just let it ride. If he lost, that was it for the night. Until the next night. Rinse and repeat. That was usually how it went. Until the one time he actually won. In the end, he ended up right back where he’d started.”

“Oh, that’s neat.”

“Was it? He sure didn’t think so.”

“What, he was trying to get rid of his money? Why not just give it all away to charity?”

“Ah, but you don’t feel bad when you give to charity, do you?”

She grimaces. “What happened then?”

“Nothing. He gritted his teeth, took it as a sign that it was futile to try and punish himself in that way, and went off to invest in the bottle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” I chuckle. “For the record, he never told me any of this stuff. Guess I never mentioned it, but one time there was a guest at the hotel.”

“Shocking. A guest at the hotel.”

I ignore her. “I think her name was Sandy, or something. We had a chat the bar one night. Turned out, I was my father’s son, and she the woman he dated for that month of gambling. He usually brought her along to the casinos to make sure he stopped with one loss. She called it quits when she saw him win.”

“Not before?”

I shrug. “Dead or alive, it’s too easy to lie to ourselves. She wasn’t seeing the line between grief and self-destruction.”

Raven’s Creek, OH

“I can’t.” Dee says, standing at the foot of the tub. “I can’t do this tonight. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Dee—”

“I think there’s—I think there’s a maggot inside me or something. I can feel it moving around. Something doesn’t feel right.”

I try putting my hand on her shoulder. She slaps it away.

I’ll have to reason with her. “We’ve been over this. There’s no maggot. We took all the precautions, I’ve been checking the stitches, and – most importantly – even if there was a maggot, you would not be able to feel it.”

“There’s more than one, then! I’m fucked, Juice! I’m fucked! I’m—”

“Dee.”

“I’m a freak of nature! I—I should’ve never taken this body! You should’ve never let me take this body! Bobby was—was right, I—I am transparent. I’m a monster. A zombie. I should have never taken this. This is how I’m going to be punished. I was stupid for thinking I could ever be happy like this.”

“Stay with me, Dee.”

“With you? With you? You—You’re at least not fucking rotting, Juice! You know, every time I look at you, I feel like shit, because you’ve obviously done something right to end up like that, because trust me – even though you’re the one having a hard time walking around in public, at least you don’t smell!”

I say nothing.

She collapses to the floor.

Hollyhale, OH

“I’m—I’m sorry. About last night.” Dee tells me.

I’m crouched beside the tub, putting the empty bag of ice away. “It’s okay. I told you it was okay.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Some of it you probably did.” I remark. “But it’s okay. This isn’t easy for either of us.”

“I don’t feel like shit when I look at you. I swear.”

“I believe you.”

“I’m sorry.”

She’s been apologizing all day. I don’t know how to feel about it at this point. “Again. Seriously. It’s okay.” It wasn’t her first, and I doubt it’ll be her last.

“Am I monster, Juice?”

“No.”

“Am I ever going to have a normal life?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll try. Grandma hats and everything.”

Andrewtown, OH

There’s no ice bath tonight.

We’re standing in front of the Little Hope Casino. I thought parking on the side of the road in a suburb was likely to bring trouble, but given the state of the neighborhood, it doesn’t seem too likely. The only vehicles on the street are our camper and some kind of Fiat. I think it's a 1987 Punto. Badly maintained.

It’s like it was a parasite, the casino. Drew its tentacles into all these houses and sucked them dry. When the juice was out, it, too, was forced to die. Night birds peck away at the façade. Someone stole the ‘E’ in the ‘HOPE’ part of the roof sign. Its windows stand either cracked or flat-out broken. Whatever glamour it must’ve had years or decades ago has long since passed, and the only light on it is that of the Moon.

A spotlight in a display of decay.

A monument of shame.

“Is he really in there?” Dee asks.

“Unlikely. We’re way behind.” I admit. “Still, worth looking around.”

Bobby might’ve lied. Can’t put it past him.

I adjust my gardening hat before sliding my hands into the coat. “Stay close. Don’t know who might be living here now.”

“I know.” She shows me the plastic gun. I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference in the long run.

I push the double doors of the casino open.

And we dive into the darkness.