Love Conquers Death
and other such frivolous things
"Private Jameson, reporting for duty, sir."
The sweltering heat of the desert seeped into the tent, and Captain Wayans hoped that was the cause of the spectacle standing before him.
"You can't be reporting for duty, Private," the officer mumbled, swiping the sweat from his forehead with an already damp cloth, "You're dead."
The apparition shook his head from side to side and twisted a bandana between both pale hands.
"Can't be dead, sir. Martha's waiting for me." He pulled a thin wallet from his breast pocket, flipped through the thin translucent pages, and then held the photo of a pretty blonde out to his superior. Wayans scooted his chair as far away from the dead hand as he could, until the canvas wall behind him hugged his shoulders and the back of his neck.
That's great, Jameson. Why don't you just take a seat outside, please?"
The Captain figured that it would be much easier to figure out what was going on without a