Grim Reaper's Dance, The

by Judy Clemens

  The cop looked back at the mangled cab. “Won’t be going anywhere for a while, but when it does…I don’t know. Shop, maybe? Closest one’s a few miles down the road. The way it’s looking, though…it’s probably headed for the junk yard.”

  “What about those men?”

  “What men?”

  “The ones talking at the back of the truck, when the paramedics got out of the cab.”

  The cop pointed his pen at the paramedic. “You know who she’s talking about?”

  He nodded. “Couple of guys were in the truck, administering CPR. Don’t know who they were.”

  Casey tried to sit up, but was held down by the straps. She strained her neck as far as she could. The men weren’t at the back of the truck anymore. She couldn’t see them anywhere. “You have to find them. They know something.”

  “Nothing to know, ma’am. It was an accident.”

  “An accident involving vehicles parked across the road. Why were they there?”

  He looked at her. “There’s all kind of construction going on—”

  “Where are the workers?”

  He paused. “I don’t know.”

  Casey’s head swam, and she dropped it back onto the gurney.

  “We gotta go,” the paramedic said.

  “No!” Casey said. “Wait!”

  But the cop stepped back and closed the door. Casey raised her head high enough to see out the back window, just in time to see Death walking in the opposite direction, carrying Evan’s spirit like a baby.

  Chapter Two

  “Name?”

  “Casey Jones.”

  The young admissions clerk scribbled on her clipboard and cracked her gum. “ID?”

  “Don’t have any.”

  That made the girl look up. “You don’t have any ID?”

  Should Casey give her the whole story? How she’d left it hidden in a garage back in Ohio, hanging with the rest of her earthly belongings? Her wedding ring, Omar’s baby cap, her dobak, her money… Should Casey tell the girl she was wanted for the murder of a Louisville thug? Or for questioning about the death of one of the Ohio town’s citizens? Or by the psycho CEO of Pegasus, the car company that killed Casey’s family?

  “My wallet got stolen,” Casey said. “I don’t have anything.”

  “Well…” The girl chewed her gum harder, as if it helped her to think. “We need to have information. Address. Insurance. You know.”

  “Sure. Leave the paper with me, and I’ll fill it out the best I can.”

  “You have a phone, at least? So you can call somebody?” The girl looked hopeful.

  “No.”

  “Oh. Well.” The clerk floundered in a tight half-circle, her feet shuffling on the tile floor.

  “You do have phones here at the hospital?”

  “Phones? Here? Oh, I see. Yeah, you can use one of those, I guess.”

  Casey took a deep, calming breath. “I’ll fill out what I can, and then find a phone. Okay?”

  The girl held out the clipboard, then took it back, then held it out again. “I’m really supposed to fill it out myself. From the ID.”

  Casey snagged the clipboard, yanking it from the clerk’s hand. “I’ll do it.”

  “Well—”

  “So, what have we here?” A doctor in a white coat flapped through the dividing curtain, beaming at Casey from more beard and mustache than Casey thought should be allowed on a medical professional.

  “Doctor Shinnob,” he boomed. “At your service.”

  The clerk took the opportunity to scuttle away, casting a worried glance back toward Casey. Casey smiled wearily and held up the clipboard, nodding to the girl in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion.

  A petite, dark-skinned nurse dressed in lavender scrubs with cats on them stood slightly behind the doctor. She scribbled on yet another chart. “Name?”

  “Casey Jones.”

  “Birthdate?”

  Casey made one up.

  “Social security number?”

  Casey rattled off nine non-sequential numbers.

  “Done, are we, then, Felicia?” The doctor held out his hands.

  The nurse frowned, crossing her arms over her paperwork and holding it against her chest.

  “So, you were in a little accident, were you?” The doctor lifted Casey’s chin and shone a flashlight in her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear about that.”

  “The driver—”

  “Got the worst of it. Yes, I’m sorry about that, too. Did you know him well?”

  “No, not all that well.” She wasn’t about to tell him she’d just met Evan that morning, when she’d desperately hitched a ride.

  “I see.” He flicked the light away, and then back. “How’s your vision?”

  “Blurry.”

  “What I thought. I’m afraid you have a concussion, my dear.” He rubbed his fingers together beside her right ear. “Can you hear that?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that?” Her left ear.

  She nodded.

  “Good, good. Now, breathe in and out deeply, mouth open, please.” She obliged, and he nodded, pursing his lips as he listened to her back through his stethoscope. He moved the instrument to her chest, listening to her heart. “Good. Can you lie down now, please?” He pushed gently on her stomach. “Does that hurt when I do this? Or this? No? That’s good, that’s good.” He smiled at the nurse, who gave him a stare right back. He leaned toward Casey. “Don’t worry about Felicia. Trauma makes her grumpy.”

  “I’m not grumpy.” Felicia’s voice sounded brittle.

  “Whatever you say, whatever you say.” The doctor winked at Casey. “Now, you tell me if anything hurts.” He felt her from top to bottom—her arms, her ribs, her legs. Nothing hurt, except for the cut on her arm. She tried not to show it, but he noticed anyway. “Tell me about this injury. That’s not from the accident.” He peered at her above the rims of his glasses.

  “Got cut yesterday. I tried to fix it up.”

  “Didn’t do a very good job of it, did you?” He clicked his tongue. “Felicia, how about some antiseptic wash?”

  Between Dr. Shinnob and Felicia they cleaned out the cut and covered it with sterile gauze and an Ace bandage. Casey did her best not to scream at the pain.

  “I can’t stitch it,” Dr. Shinnob said. “It’s too swollen, and the tissues have already begun to heal themselves. I’m afraid you’ll have a scar there, as a reminder of whatever you did.”

  Great. “Thank you. It will be fine.”

  He studied her face, then broke back into a big grin.

  “There are some police officers in the waiting room who want to talk with you. Are you ready for them?”

  Casey looked at Felicia. “Do I have to be?”

  The nurse shook her head.

  “You don’t have to be ready at all,” the doctor said. “They can’t see you until I say they can, and I think I’ll have them wait a little longer. Not that they aren’t doing their best—I just don’t want them disturbing you before you’re up to it. There’s plenty of time. Now, we’ll be setting you up with a CT scan, to make sure there’s nothing going on inside your head that we can’t see.”

  “Internal bleeding? Wouldn’t we know by now?”

  He tilted his hand back and forth. “Maybe, maybe not. I like to be thorough, don’t I, Felicia?”

  The nurse rolled her eyes.

  “She loves me,” Shinnob said. “She just doesn’t know how to show it.” He took the clipboard from Felicia, scrawled a few things on it, and handed it back to her. “Felicia will take care of you now, Ms…Jones, was it? I’ll see you again soon.”

  Casey and the nurse watched as the doctor strode out through the curtain, greeting someone else at high decibels. Felicia closed her eyes briefly, then turned to Casey. “I’m sorry, I just can’t be as happy-go-lucky as he is.”

  Casey shrugged. “Who can?”

  Felicia held up her chart. “So I need to know a few more things. You
’re not pregnant?”

  Casey let out a surprised laugh. “No.”

  “Taking any medications?”

  “Nope.”

  “Eaten anything in the last six hours?”

  Casey had to think. “Drank some water. That’s it.”

  Felicia nodded. “You hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Best to wait till the test is done, then we’ll get you something, all right?” She pulled out some syringes. “I need to get some blood samples. Check things out, especially since you have…well, since this isn’t all your own blood. Usually they do this right away when you come in, but with all the excitement today about the driver, and all…”

  “I really don’t think bloodwork is necessary.”

  Felicia smiled gently. “Dr. Shinnob will decide that. For now, just grit your teeth and let me see a vein.”

  Casey reluctantly stuck out her arm.

  Felicia took the blood and covered the needle site with a cotton ball and bandage. “I know this has been difficult, Ms. Jones. Feel free to lie down and rest while I get things set up, okay?” Her face had softened to a degree it hadn’t while the doctor had been in the cubicle. “From what I can see you’re going to be fine. The doctor just likes to make sure.”

  “After all,” Casey said, “he is thorough.”

  Felicia laughed. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” She left through the part in the curtains.

  Don’t go anywhere. The exact instructions Casey couldn’t follow. She glanced down at the chart the clerk had left with her, covered with blanks she couldn’t fill. Not if she wanted to avoid jail.

  She slipped off of the table, wincing at the pull on her shoulder, and looked down at her clothes. Yet again a bloody mess. She couldn’t even turn the sweatshirt inside out, as the other side was stained with someone else’s blood, from the day before. The fresh blood on her pants more than covered the faded blotches there. She laughed under her breath without a stitch of humor—she was a crime scene investigator’s nightmare.

  She filled the cup by her bed with water and drank it all, hoping it would help with her dizziness. It didn’t.

  She peeked out from the curtain. There were several closed-off areas, but mostly empty beds. From the lack of busy-ness, Casey assumed Evan’s body had been taken elsewhere. Felicia was gone, and a couple of orderlies at the far end of the room were the only people Casey could see. A counter at the side of the room held a few snack essentials for those waiting—crackers and peanut butter the most attractive to Casey. Close to the counter was a door with an EXIT sign above it. Casey waited until the orderlies turned their backs, then left her area, scooping up several packs of crackers, some containers of peanut butter, and a small bag of Oreos. Not exactly a full meal, but it would have to do.

  The exit door opened silently, and she slipped out into an empty corridor. No more exits were in sight, so she took a chance and turned right. Hearing someone coming, she ducked into a family bathroom until the footsteps passed. After several seconds she opened the door, scanning the hallway. No one. She went out, turned the corner, and found a large sign pointing her toward radiology, outpatient surgery, and the gift shop. She followed the path to the gift shop, hoping it would be close to the front door. It was. She walked briskly past the volunteers at the information desk and headed outside, where it had stopped raining, remaining overcast and muggy.

  There were no taxis, of course, and even if there were she had no money to pay them. She headed toward the side of the hospital, wanting to get out of sight as soon as possible. The building sat in a residential area, so she was able to find a small side street within a minute, ducking around corners until the hospital was hidden behind houses and trees.

  She kept walking, not sure where to go. Not sure where she even was. Kansas, somewhere. Another small town. She paused briefly to catch her breath and shake her head, hoping her vision would clear. She’d had concussions before. It would go away. Eventually. Until then, she’d just have to stay awake. And while she was awake, she might as well get something done. Like find out what those men at the accident site were looking for, and why Evan so desperately didn’t want them to find it. She had to assume it was one and the same item they were talking about.

  Looking up toward the main street she could see a gas station on the corner of the nearest intersection. Blue Lake Gas and Go. It looked like it had a garage attached, so someone there might be able to tell her where Evan’s truck would have been taken.

  She walked up and stopped in front of the dark garage. She’d forgotten. Sunday. Not even the gas station part was open, let alone the shop. She put her face up to the window and squinted, trying to read the clock on the wall. Almost eight. She sighed, leaning her forehead against the glass.

  “Tough day, huh?”

  Casey didn’t even flinch at Death’s presence. “Back so soon?”

  “Doesn’t take long. Evan says hi.”

  She rolled her head sideways on the window so she could see Death, who twanged a rubber band between teeth and fingers. “He didn’t happen to tell you what he hid in his truck, or why those men are after it?”

  Death spoke around the rubber band. “I didn’t know I was supposed to ask him about that.”

  Casey pushed herself off the window, hesitating at the sight of a cop car idling at the traffic light. She walked around the corner of the garage. “Guess I ought to figure out somewhere to go.”

  “You could call Don. Or Ricky.” Her lawyer. Her brother.

  “I could.”

  “They’d send you money.”

  “On a Sunday? Where would they do that?”

  Death twanged the rubber band. “You know, Casey, there are these things called computers—”

  “Which would give up my location in a heartbeat. I can’t do that to them. They’d want to help, and since they don’t know about…about what happened in Clymer…they’d just get me locked up. And themselves in trouble.” She shuddered. “Plus, it would put Pegasus back on my tail, and I certainly don’t need that.” The car company had made the faulty car that killed her family, and now they were afraid Casey would ruin them. They weren’t about to stop looking for her.

  “You’ve got to get money somewhere,” Death said. “Or go to a homeless shelter.”

  Visions of the soup kitchen in Clymer flitted through Casey’s mind. Home Sweet Home, where she’d met Eric VanDiepenbos and found out things that had almost gotten her killed.

  “I think I’ll take my chances somewhere else.”

  The cop car was gone, so she began walking, heading toward the outskirts of town. She crossed a railroad track, an abandoned factory, and a new and unfinished development, and in about a half hour she was traveling along fields of corn. Miles and miles of it standing tall and golden, just waiting for harvest.

  Death had deserted her long before, having tired of the walking. Of the boredom of it. Casey had said so long, glad to be rid of the incessant rubber band twanging. Besides, she was furious that Death had taken Evan and didn’t even seem sorry about it.

  She walked several more miles, seeing only two vehicles the entire time, then angled into the cornfield, pushing across rows, the leaves scratchy, smacking her face. She found a place about a quarter mile in where a patch of grassy weeds had grown, brown now, like the corn, but soft, and mostly dry. She eased to the ground, her neck stiff, her shoulder throbbing, and lay flat on her back. She thought about pulling those crackers and cookies out of her pocket, but it seemed like too much effort. Instead, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to relax. A train whistle drifted across the fields, accompanying the clouds, and she gradually sank deeper into the weeds. She knew she shouldn’t sleep, not with her concussion, and she didn’t figure she would, not with the image of Evan begging her not to let them have it, whatever it was, but it couldn’t hurt to close her eyes for a few minutes. She was so tired…

  She fell asleep so quickly she didn’t even notice when Death chopped an a
rmful of grass and tucked it under her head, like a pillow.

  Chapter Three

  “You really shouldn’t be so crabby with me,” Death said. “It’s not all my fault, you know. The farmers were out awfully early.”

  It was true. As soon as the sun had given even a hint of morning light the tractors were in the fields. Not Casey’s field of residence, so she wasn’t afraid of getting run over, but the harvesters were close enough she had no hope of getting back to sleep. But she wasn’t blaming the farmers. “You’re the one who woke me up a million times during the night.”

  Death nodded. “Every two hours. That’s what they say about concussions.”

  “Or what? I’ll die? Certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.” It was, in fact, what Casey had wanted ever since Death had taken her husband and baby, almost a year before. Death, however, had other ideas.

  Death chucked Casey under the chin. “And who says you’re not a morning person?”

  Casey swished Death’s hand away and stomped along the road, back into town. She made a breakfast of the hospital food as she walked, and while it wasn’t exactly her normal fare, it at least got her stomach to stop cramping. She ran her fingers through her hair, re-tied it into a ponytail, and hoped she didn’t look too much like she’d spent the night in a cornfield.

  “You know,” Death said, “you’ve looked better.”

  Casey, giving in to her baser nature, held up her middle finger.

  Death kept quiet after that.

  But really, where was she even going? Casey stopped suddenly, taking a deep breath. If she went back to town the most likely thing to happen would be that someone would notice her, the cops would find her, and she’d end up in jail for what had happened in Clymer. She should turn around. She should get as far as she could from this town, from the truck accident, and from anyone who could connect her with it.

  But Evan’s last request, his last breath, was to plead with her not to let them get it. Whatever it was. And whoever they were. Could she turn her back on a dying man’s plea? A man who could no longer act for himself?

  She stood at the side of the road, her thoughts in turmoil.