Issue 301, Volume 28
December 2024 / January 2025

Long Lost Friends

by D. A. Cairns

‘That’s great,’ said Brendon nodding his head enthusiastically. ‘Who would have thought you could turn things around like that?’

The very concept and appeal of a class reunion was a weird mystery to Brendon and that was why he had not attended one until tonight. Why did he finally surrender to the popular pull of a reunion? Curiousity had waged a vicious battle against his reluctance and had emerged victorious. Of course he had no idea just how weird and mysterious this night would become. Right now he was more concerned with how to get away from Chris Kovac.

‘I just wanted to hurt people all the time. I didn’t care about anyone or anything.’

‘Fantastic,’ replied Brendon, feeling sure that the past tense, wanted, was highly questionable. ‘Good talking to you. Excuse me.’

Brendon liked Chris in a fearful, from a distance sort of way but didn’t trust him so he stood and cautiously patted him on the shoulder before making his way over to another familiar face.

Seeing Jantra made his decision to attend this high school reunion totally worthwhile. They had shared a short and intense relationship when they were kids. She was already experienced at fifteen and had happily showed Brendon things he really wasn’t ready to see. He had loved it and as much as he understood the concept, he loved her as well. Love probably had nothing to do with it from her point of view.

‘Hey,’ said Brendon leaning forward to embrace her and smelling the sweet fragrance of her perfume. ‘You look fantastic. Haven’t changed a bit.’

‘Yeah, bullshit,’ she replied. Jantra had always been a straight shooter. She was short and well rounded, curvy like a woman should be and Brendon really thought she looked every bit as desirable as she had when he first saw her in the quadrangle at Endeavour High School way back in the day.

‘It’s great to see you,’ said Brendon.

‘Good to see you too,’ she said as she turned to the sound of someone calling her name. ‘I’ll catch up with you later, eh?’

Brendon was disappointed for a moment until Helen walked up and gave him a kiss. She had hardly said boo to him during their time at school because Helen ran in a different crowd, and while Brendon had always thought she was hot, it was admiration from afar; in the realm of fantasy.

After she hugged him and said hello, she moved on, floating away to another unsuspecting former classmate.

Big John Hitchcock was standing at the bar staring at the ceiling. Nothing had changed with him in twenty years obviously. Brendon wandered over, and as he did he saw Andy Michaels waving at him so he waved back and made some sort of gesture which he hoped would convey the message that he would be over to see him in a minute.

‘G’day John.’

‘Lynch,’ replied the tall man without looking at Brendon.

‘What are you doing with yourself these days. John?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Remember, the first time we met? At school? It was in an assembly and I was sitting down on the floor and you stepped on my hand but instead of apologising you called me a dipstick. Remember?’

‘No.’

‘See you later then, dipstick.’

Brendon was dying for a conversation. The superficiality of the occasion was excruciating just as he had suspected it would be. Hi, how are you? Great to see you. What ya been up to? Blah! Blah! Blah!

‘How boring is this?’ said Andy interrupting Brendon’s thoughts. The two old friends shook hands and looked not at each other but around the room. They still saw each other regularly so there was no need for studied observation or forced conversation.

‘Yeah. If I hadn’t had the chance to squeeze Jantra again it would have been a total waste.’

‘You still like her don’t you?’ said Andy with a knowing smile.

‘Mate she was my first. You don’t forget that. She’ll always be a part of me but I don’t want to go back or have her back. It’s important but only as history, know what I mean?’

‘Yeah,’ said Andy without conviction. ‘Hey look!’ he said pointing into the crowd on the other side of the room.

‘I’m looking.’

‘Is that Kristen Hackett?’

‘She died of leukaemia man. While we still in school.’

‘I know but damn that looks just like her. See?’

Brendon tried to follow Andy’s finger into the faces. Eventually he saw her.

‘Shit! Let’s take a closer look.’

‘Where you rushing off to boys?’

Angela Puzo grabbed Brendon by the arm with the same kind of playful authority she had possessed as a bossy teenaged girl at school. Clear white skin, thick black hair.

‘Hi Angela. We thought we saw Kristen Hackett so we were gonna have a closer gander.’

‘Kristen’s dead,’ she replied. ‘But it’s funny you should say that cos I thought I saw Craig Darcy before, remember him? Real smartarse.’

‘He jumped in front of a train didn’t he?’ said Andy.

‘That’s what I heard,’ said Angela. ‘Anyway it wasn’t him.’

‘What are you saying?’ Brendon was intrigued. ‘We know what these people look like. What are the chances of two dead ringers showing up at a reunion?’

‘Make that three,’ said Angela.

‘What?’

‘There’s a girl who looks exactly like Jantra Hayman.’

Andy and Brendon both turned.

‘That is Jantra. I said hello to her. Hugged her.’

Angela’s face dropped and she reached out to take Brendon’s hand. He quickly pulled away.

‘Didn’t you hear what happened to her?’

Dumb expressions prompted Angela to continue. ‘She was found in a motel room.

Dead. She had been beaten up and raped.’

‘Bullshit!’

Brendon didn’t know what else to say. He had touched her and talked to her. She was alive and there was no way it wasn’t her, but how could that be? And what about Kristen and Craig?

The three of them stood there in silence for a moment thinking over the implications of what they were telling each other. Suddenly Andy started laughing and it was contagious. ‘What the hell?’ he said. ‘Ghosts? Is that what we are talking about? The living dead?’

Brendon laughed along but only because it broke the tension. He certainly didn’t believe in ghosts but he knew himself, his experience and he had not imagined Jantra. She was real. This was all real. His laughter masked a nagging fear.

‘I’ll settle this,’ said Brendon.

Angela and Andy followed him as he hurried over to where Kristen was standing and talking to a couple of other girls whose names escaped Brendon, not that he really cared.

‘Hi Kristen.’

‘Hi Brendon.’

A very weird and awkward silence surrounded them as Brendon looked at Angela and Andy and they looked back and the three stared at Kristen. The question was sitting there, fully formed on the tips of the tongues and ready to be launched but no one dared open their mouths to release it.

Finally it was Andy. ‘Didn’t you die of leukaemia?’

‘Yes.’

Angela screamed and ran away, and Andy ran after her while Brendon was glued to the spot staring at… a dead person. A ghost.

‘It’s okay,’ said Kristen.

‘What’s okay about it?’ said Brendon backing away slowly. ‘Have you seen Craig and Jantra?’

Kristen’s answer was so matter of fact that Brendon wondered if everything really was all right or perhaps that he was dreaming. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We all came. We wouldn’t have missed this reunion for anything.’

‘Right,’ said Brendon trying to hear his thoughts over the hammering of drums in his temples. ‘I’ll see you later then.’

Brendon had only kept in touch with a few friends from high school and those few friends hadn’t really kept in touch with anyone else so they were many lives that had gone on and ended apparently during the years since without Brendon knowing anything about it. He had hardly given them a thought because he had moved on. That dangerous seductress called curiousity had brought him to the reunion, not genuine interest in others or a desire to renew old acquaintances. Now he wondered how many others from the class of ’86 had moved on in a more metaphorical sense.

When he finally caught up with Angela, she was alone and crying.

Brendon took her in his arms.

‘You didn’t die too did you Brendon?’

‘What?’

It was such a strange question but one which unfortunately made sense in this context.

‘Hell no. I’ve never even broken any bones or been in hospital.’

Angela stopped crying and broke the embrace. She pulled a couple of tissues from her handbag and patted her eyes before saying, ‘How many others do you think…?’

Making a dismissive noise didn’t seem to satisfy Angela who probed with her dark eyes searching for an answer or for words of comfort. Brendon felt too disturbed to say anything.

‘No. What do you mean? There can’t be anymore. Just three. That’s a fairly low ratio of ghosts to people.’

It was meant to be a joke and luckily it worked. Angela punched his arm as she laughed and hugged him again, although he couldn’t work out the reason for the continual cuddling. Not that he minded. Angela was kind of cute and she was alive. Hopefully. How could he know for sure?

For a moment they relaxed until Andy rushed up out of breath.

‘Were you two invited to the ten year reunion?’ he said.

‘No,’ said Angela but Brendon couldn’t tell if she was offended or not.

‘I was,’ said Brendon, ‘but I was in Hawaii on business and couldn’t make it back.’

‘I had something else on,’ said Andy, ‘so I missed it too.’

‘So?’

‘They organised a mystery flight and…I need a drink.’

Andy had headed over to the bar leaving Angela and Brendon in suspense when Julian Fairweather approached them with a warm smile and a sparkle in his eyes. Angela and Julian had got on well at school and they were obviously pleased to see each other. After a lingering hug, Brendon and Julian shook hands and silently acknowledged the many years that had passed since their friendship was terminated in the front seat of a stolen car under the watchful eye of a burly policeman.

‘You didn’t come to talk to me about cars did you mate?’

‘Nah, I don’t drive anymore,’ said Julian with a wry smile.

‘Why?’

‘I was involved in a serious accident a few years ago.’

Brendon and Angela looked at each other immediately, both sensing that the answer to the next question was not going to make them feel good. Nevetheless, it had to be asked.

‘How serious?’ said Brendon.

‘I feel asleep at the wheel on my way home from work, and drove into a tree at high speed. The car was nearly split in two and I was trapped for hours before help arrived and by then it was too late.’

‘That’s horrible,’ said Angela somehow sounding like it was normal to talk to dead people. ‘You died alone.’

Julian smiled. ‘But I’m not alone anymore. Here we are together again.’

Angela and Brendon nodded weak agreement, bemused by Julian’s cheeriness and unsure if this was a good thing or not.

‘Hey,’ said Julian, ‘I missed you guys at the ten year reunion. We had a fantastic time. A mystery flight.’

Just then Andy returned with a JD on ice.

‘Julian was just going to tell us about the mystery flight.’

‘G’day Julian,’ said Andy extending his hand. ‘How did you die?’

Brendon and Angela turned to Andy with their mouths open and their brows furrowed. Andy was obviously getting very comfortable with the idea of partying with the living dead.

‘Car accident.’

‘Cool.’

Brendon couldn’t help himself. ‘It’s not cool, Andy. How many of those have you had?’

‘Not enough, my friend. Nowhere near enough,’ he replied as he raised his glass to Julian.

‘Anyway, what about the mystery flight? Where did you end up?’

‘Uluru. It was fantastic. I have to go. Andy can tell you all about it. See you later.’

‘Andy wasn’t even there,’ protested Brendon.

‘Do you want a drink before I tell you this story?’

‘Get on with it,’ said Brendon and Angela in unison.

‘They chartered a jet and fifty seven of our former classmates headed off to Uluru but the plane mysteriously lost power mid air and crashed in the middle of the

Simpson Desert killing them all.’

Andy threw the contents of his glass down his throat and waited. Brendon supposed he was allowing them to digest the information. There didn’t seem to be anything appropriate to say.

‘How many do you reckon are here tonight?’ asked Andy.

‘Including those that are only here in spirit?’

‘Good one, mate,’ said Andy, but Angela elbowed him in the side.

They worked out together that there were approximately eighty to ninety souls in attendance, and that at least sixty that they knew of, were deceased.

‘Why are they here?’ whispered Angela.

‘Why are you whispering?’

Angela tutted loudly at Andy.

‘To talk about the good old days,’ said Andy.

‘Isn’t “how are they here” a better question?’ said Brendon.

‘Let’s see if we can find any more survivors,’ suggested Andy.

‘I think we should get the hell out of here,’ said Angela.

‘Funny you should say that, Angela,’ said Andy.

‘Don’t say it,’ she said with a smile. ‘Just don’t.’

Brendon was considering the situation when Howie Wilson rumbled over. He was the school fat kid who was hassled and picked on by the tough crowd and the nerd crowd. The poor guy didn’t fit in anywhere, literally and metaphorically speaking. Unfortunately for him, the years had not produced pretty results. He looked awful, like he was going to drop dead from a heart attack any tick of the clock.

Andy spoke first. ‘Heart attack right?’

Howie looked shocked as he wiped sweat from his forehead and rosy cheeks with a wet handerkerchief. ‘How did you know that?’

‘Shit, I knew a guy who died of one when he was thirty nine and I thought that was young but you must have been…’

‘I was twenty nine,’ said Howie. ‘But that’s ancient history now.”

Brendon was feeling less afraid now. ‘What are you doing here, Howie? I mean you’re dead and we know lots of others here have also passed over…’

‘That’s quaint Brendon,’ interrupted Andy.

‘It’s a reunion. It’s fun to find out what everybody’s been doing all these years,’ said Howie.

‘But Howie,’ said Angela, ‘most of you haven’t been doing anything, have you. You’re dead. Dead people don’t do anything, do they?’

Howie frowned and wiped off some more sweat. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘Are you going to try to kill the rest of us and eat us or something?’

Brendon burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it and soon they were all laughing except Howie who looked like he was about to cry.

‘Still teasing the fat kid, eh?’ said Howie and he turned and rolled away.

Brendon flicked his hand across Andy’s chest and said, ‘Geez, Andy you’ve hit a new low now. Insulting dead people.’

‘Cut the jokes for God’s sake,’ said Angela. ‘This is serious.’

‘You sound like you think we are in danger, Ange,’ said Brendon.

‘We’re in a room full of dead people.’

The way she stood with her mouth open and her hands on her hips reminded Brendon of his mother, and he nearly laughed again. Angela stared at them both as if demanding something, some kind of answer, some solution. The problem was that Brendon did not know what the question was nor did he necessarily think there was a problem to be solved. The boy’s silent reply was the final straw for Angela.

‘I’m leaving!’ she said.

‘Wait,’ said Brendon to her back as she hurried away. ‘Hang on. Don’t go!’

‘Let her go, mate,’ said Andy. ‘Shit I’m glad I came. This is a hoot. Come on!’

‘Where are you going?’ Brendon had one eye on Angela as she disappeared through the door and wondered for a split second if maybe he should run after her.

‘To talk to some more dead people or,’ he stopped suddenly and turned to face Brendon, ‘we could have a competition to see which one of us can find the most living former classmates.’

They decided that would be a worthwhile pursuit so they split up and began searching for life. Five minutes after the game began, Brendon found himself at the exit through which Angela had left, watching Lee-anne Tunstall and wondering if she had died of anorexia. She was disgustingly thin. As he approached her, Angela strolled back into the room. She would have waltzed right past him but he stopped her with his hand.

‘I thought you were leaving.’

‘I changed my mind. I wouldn’t miss this night for anything.’

Brendon noticed a dark bruise around her throat and also that her skin seemed paler than normal.

‘What happened to your neck? I didn’t see that bruise before.’

‘I met Big John in the foyer and he persuaded me to stay.’

‘What do you mean persuaded? How?’ But Brendon knew the answer.

Angela smiled. ‘He’s a very strong man.’

‘He killed you? He killed you!’

‘It’s all right, Brendon. It’s not as bad as you think. Give us a hug.’

Brendon allowed Angela to squeeze him while he desperately searched the room for Andy. He didn’t want to play the game anymore. Angela broke the embrace and punched his arm lightly. ‘You guys were right, this is fun. I’ll see you later, okay?’

Brendon nodded weakly, still looking for Andy.

Lee-ane had noticed Brendon so she came over to him.

Brendon held up his hands in surrender. ‘I know. Annorexia nervosa. Great. Lovely to see you, I have to go now.’

He stumbled away, falling against and pushing through cold bodies, no longer knowing where he was going, and very close to not caring. Andy grabbed his arm and shook him out of his stupor.

‘Mate, what are you doing? What’s wrong?’

‘Big John strangled Angela in the foyer. Choked her to death.’

‘What?’

‘I now what they’re all doing here, Andy. They aim to make this a very special reunion. The last one where the living participate. They want the whole class of ’86 dead!’

‘Why?’

‘How should I know? We have to get out of here. Now!’

The lights brightened across the room and the music stopped and was replaced by an amplified voice. Brendon recognised the voice of Dr. George Dimitrou, top scorer in the end of year exams, and straight from high school to study medicine at the University of Sydney. A very clever and diligent man, now a successful and reputable urologist.

‘We have a special award to give out now to three of our former classmates who are with us tonight.’

George covered the microphone while some one close by spoke into his ear.

‘Sorry, ‘said George, returning to the microphone, ‘That’s just two of our former classmates.’

Brendon and Andy looked at each and then around the room.

‘Would Andy Michaels,’ continued George, ‘and Brendon Lynch please come up on stage to receive their awards.’

‘I’m not going,’ said Brendon to Andy.

‘I’m not going either.’

‘What are we going to do?’

George’s friendly voice answered. ‘Come on boys, don’t be shy. Come on up. We’re all friends here.’

The knot in Brendon’s stomach felt as heavy as a bowling ball and his mouth was so dry he could no longer speak. He felt the crowd pushing gently into his back and realised they were being ushered to the stage against their will. He exchanged another quick glance with Andy whose expression told Brendon that he was equally fearful for his life. Hemmed in by seething, deceased humanity, they could only focus on staying upright as they were pushed ever forward. It was not rough, but certainly irresistible.

Brendon was sure he was going to wet himself as they reached the stage and saw George holding out his hand to greet them.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ said George, causing the room to explode with laughter.

Brendon imagined that he managed an insipid smile. He didn’t look at Andy. Without warning a sharp object pierced his chest and he gasped as it punctured his heart. It was a strike of surgical precision. The audience applauded and Brendon died. Then he turned to look for Andy and he had blood all over the front of his shirt but he appeared alive and well. He was clapping his hands too and smiling and nodding encouragingly at Brendon who felt weird. Was he dead? Must be.

‘See boys,’ said George. ‘There was nothing to fear.’

Facing the crowd, George raised his hands to the ceiling, then clenched his fists and punched the air in triumph.

‘Class of ‘86’ all together at last!’

Brendon and Andy joined in the thunderous sounds of rejoicing. It was, thought Brendon, a very special reunion indeed.

THE END

Bio: Heavy metal lover and cricket tragic, D.A. Cairns lives in Darwin in Australia’s Northern Territory, where he works as an English language teacher and writes stories in his very limited spare time. He has had over 50 short stories published (but who’s counting right?) He blogs at Square pegs http://dacairns.blogspot.com.au and has authored five novels, Devolution, Loathe Your Neighbor, Ashmore Grief, A Muddy Red River and Love Sick Love which is available now from Rogue Phoenix Press.

E-mail: D. A. Cairns

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