Nathan's Clan of Deadheads
World of Deadheads Series
Nathaniel Ray Crockett has been dead for years. Sort of. He’s one of the ‘Deadheads’—spirits who exist in an alternate reality. After a bizarre accident, Nathan discovers a way to inhabit the bodies of the living and shares the secret with others--a big no-no in the after-life.
Just when he finds the love and family he's searched for during his long, lon g existence, the World Council of Keepers decides to impose their oh-so-bothersome rules. Nathan is forced to defend his way of life, or lose everything.
Can a ghost from the hills of West Virginia, with a ninth-grade education, outwit the World Council of Keepers?
Sort of living did not suit his tastes. Not at all. He couldn’t stand the thought of it. It made him jumpy inside, much like jonesing for a shot from the still as witnessed in some of the miners his family had employed. Proof of that was in the number of different bodies he’d inhabited over the years.
Sitting on the curb in the parking lot of a well-maintained apartment complex, he recognized the man he’d selected, and followed him into the building. To have this guy suddenly change direction might draw the attention and questions of the other residents, questions Nathan wouldn’t be able to answer. Plus, he had learned easier ways to take over the living.
The man stopped at a bank of mailboxes in the lobby and pulled out a pile of mail, shuffled through it and dumped the entire stack into a trash can. Then he headed up the stairs. Nathan grabbed a few of the discarded envelopes, just to double-check himself. Resident. Resident. Valued Customer or Current Resident. Ah, there. His name was Christopher Allen and he did indeed live in Apt. 2E.
Nathan sauntered up and sat in a chair. He watched and studied his target for almost three hours, while the guy changed out of a business suit into sweatpants and an old, vintage Grateful Dead t-shirt (no worse for the wear), went through a one-hour routine in the complex exercise room, then returned to nuke and eat a frozen dinner. After the sun faded and Christopher Allen closed his drapes and turned on a light, Nathan made his move.
He slid in while Christopher nodded off watching a game show on television and made note of the man’s thoughts of falling into such a weird dream. A low tenor voice laughed that some dead guy, some zombie-like creature, was trying to take over his life. Slowly, the man’s thoughts became Nathan’s.
He woke, rose from the couch, walked into the bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans, pulled on a pair of suede cowboy boots, and slung a light jacket over his shoulder. Chuckling to himself, Nathan kept the t-shirt. “How appropriate. I’m dead, and I’m very grateful right now.”
Taking Christopher’s wallet, Nathan peeled off a five and three ones, slipped them back in, returned the wallet to the top of the dresser, and pocketed the rest of the cash. He left the keys and cell phone on the kitchen counter where they’d been tossed. With the light and television still on, Nathan walked out into the night with few worries; plenty of people simply walked away from their lives.
It didn’t take as long to make his way back to the truck, since Nathan got plenty of rides by sticking out his thumb and plastering a broad, friendly smile on his newly acquired face.