The guest left the convention hall several hours ago but somehow it still feels crowded. The booths have mostly been packed away and there's just a handful of staff remaining to do one last sweep of the entire facility before ending in the cleaner droids to sterilise every last surface ready for the next set of vendors the following morning.
I was with one of the older guys - the kind that insists you call him by a nickname with a long and impossible backstory like Steely because when someone tried to stab him their knife broke or Triple because he gave up three of his toes so his identical twin could use them as replacement fingers after a brutal car accident.
Fortunately enough his was a simpler story - he was called Sparky because he'd been hit by lightning nine times "and counting" as he'd always say. I blame the nerve damage caused by all the lightning for the fact that he didn't spot the body until he tripped over them.
I figured it must have been someone he knew from the way the colour drained from his face. Didn't surprise me that I was right when he told me they'd been in the army together. Did surprise me that they died overseas and they'd been cremated over four years ago.
They looked fresh though, just like they were sleeping. Sparky begged me to help move the guy into one of the dumpsters, said that two people couldn't possibly hallucinate the same thing so it must either be a sick joke or some ghostly vengeance for him hiding instead of saving the guy.
We passed off our late return as taking a smoke break and the rest of the team was none the wiser. We thought we were in the clear and had clearly been tired or overworked or something and mistaken a mannequin for a long dead friend of his.
The next morning our team was called into the office bright and early, way before our shift was due. I saw the issue before I'd fully walked through the doors. The cleaner droids had smeared blood everywhere, like their bleach tanks had been full of it or something worse.
Partially under a drenched sheet, surrounded by police, was a very familiar face. One I'd helped throw into a dumpster several hours ago. One who was now blanched white, utterly drained of all blood and wrinkled like a deflated balloon of skin.
One whose eyes snapped towards me as I passed by.
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