“Bad news my man, I’m here to take you to Hell.”
“Hell? What the fuck are you babbling about dude?” Roger tried to step over the EMTs, failed and stumbled through them instead. “Holy shit! Holy shit! I just walked through that guy! What just happened? I’m dreaming right! I’m dreaming, this is some, like, Chinese food nightmare kind of thing! Right?”
“No, you drowned,” Bobby answered, no one else could. “Not a good night for fishing dude.”
“But…but…” Roger was spinning like a dog chasing his tail on the garbage strewn beach, his mind as wild as the wind swirling unnoticed all around him.
“You didn’t make it bro.” Bobby waved the guy toward him, “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“No way! No fucking way dude! I ain’t done nothing… nothing crazy anyway ya’know!” Roger began to backpedal.
“You can’t run from this,” Bobby had dealt with a few runners in the past, he knew the look.
“Hell no!” Roger turned and sprinted, if you could call it that, he wasn’t built for speed.
Really? Come on chubs, you couldn’t outrun a quadriplegic.
Bobby swiped opened a portal, stepped inside and reappeared in front of the careening deadman a moment later, a trick he’d learned and one that came in quite handy on more than a few occasions.
Roger squealed, stumbled and sprawled headfirst into the sand at Bobby’s naked, dirt-blackened feet. Bobby couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He seemed okay. No insults. No threats. Just fear. Just a regular guy. Just like Bobby had been. “Come on dude, it doesn’t have to be difficult.”
Roger pushed himself slowly to his feet and stood staring into the shadow of Bobby’s deep hood that hid his face.
The guy’s got a baby face under the scruff…and the fear.
“Difficult?” Roger cried. “You’re gonna take me to Hell and you think that’s not going to be difficult?”
“Well,” Bobby shrugged. “I’m just trying to do my job here, bro.”
“Dude, I’m not a Hell kind of guy. I’m a good guy. I promise. I pay taxes, go to church on Christmas and Easter, never hurt nobody, not on purpose anyway ya’know. Sure I smoke a little weed, drink too much probably but that’s it dude. You can’t go to Hell for that right?”
You’re telling my story dude.
“Listen, I don’t make the rules. I’m just, well… like a delivery guy.”
“Give me another chance dude, please?” Roger dropped to his knees, clasping his hands tightly against his forehead. “Come on man, I’m a good guy, I swear, I’m a good guy!”
Bobby cringed, he felt his pain. He scanned the beach. The EMTs were still working on Roger’s corpse but there was nobody else, alive or dead, as far as he could see.
Where’s the fucking Angel? They’re always late! Somebody in HR up there is slacking big time!
“Listen, I got a few minutes,” Bobby whispered and winked. “Let’s just wait.”
“Wait for what?” Roger frowned and looked around his balled fists to see what the Reaper had seen.
“Just wait,” Bobby commanded firmly hoping Roger would take the hint.
“First you want to go and now you want to hang around, what the fuck bro? You messing with me?”
“No, I’m not messing with you and if you’d just shut up, calm down and wait you might be pleasantly surprised.”
“Wait? Wait for what? You’re fucking with me! You’re a grim-fucking-Reaper right?”
Really? I’m trying to help and this is the thanks I get. Nice.
“We don’t use the ‘grim’ part.”
Roger frowned.
Bobby shrugged.
Roger wasn’t done, “Isn’t that kinda your thing? To, like, fuck with people, ya’know?”
Should’ve just snatched the ungrateful prick while I had the chance.
“Relax, please?”
Roger’s frown deepened when the Reaper said please. Politeness was the last thing he imagined a Grim Reaper would be. He nodded. Bobby relaxed a bit and they turned to watch as Lenny continued to pound the dead man’s chest. Dave stood with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the sand. Becca studied the Bronx on the far side of the Sound.
I can’t wait much longer. Damn Angels, always late, always fucking late!
Just as he finished his thought an all too familiar blinding light flashed, granting his wish in more ways than one. Maria Sinclair stood a few feet away, scanning the scene, her emerald eyes burned with beauty and narrowed by caution. The wild wind whipped her thick curls into a frenzied dance and pressed her pristine robes into every curve and crevice.
Bobby stared in awe, speechless in every way.
Roger wasn’t. “Help me! Please, help me! This guy wants to take me to Hell!”
“Are you asking for forgiveness?” Maria replied, her voice as warm and inviting as a lullaby.
*
“Clear!” Lenny commanded.
“It’s over Lenny,” the lead EMT said again.
“One more Joanie?!” Lenny begged but didn’t wait for an answer.
He placed the paddles to the dead man’s chest, prayed a silent prayer, and triggered the blast of current. Lightning raced across the fisherman’s chest and through his heart. Neurons fired. Nerves ignited. The muscle burst to life and quickly regained its rhythm.
“We got a pulse!” Joanie roared.
“Holy shit!” Dave cried in disbelief.
“Let’s get him to Flushing General like yesterday,” Lenny commanded, he wasn’t ready to celebrate until the guy was in bed, hooked up to a monitor and complaining about the food.
“Move people!” Becca screamed.
*
Nothing stood between Bobby and Maria. Roger’s soul had been, it wasn’t anymore, there one second and gone the next.
What the….?
“Oh no,” the Angel gasped.
Uh oh, not good.
“Oh no,” she said again and began to cry, letting her tears flow with no attempt to hide them.
Please don’t cry. She’s even beautiful when she cries.
“It’s okay,” Bobby whispered and stepped toward her.
Maria flinched.
Easy Bobby.
Bobby froze. “I won’t hurt you,” he offered a smile he hoped seemed kind.
“Stay back,” Maria warned and drew her sword. “I will kill you if I must.”
“You don’t need that.” Bobby liked her spunk, he would have liked anything she did. “I could have claimed him a hundred times while we waited for you to show up.”
“Waited?” her forehead wrinkled with curiosity.
“Yeah, waited. You were late, just like last time.”
Another frown, “Last time?”
“The LIE, Lefrak City, a kid rear-ended a box truck, shot at me,” Bobby recalled the meeting he would never forget.
“Oh, yes.” Maria nodded and her eyes narrowed. “You stole that boy without giving him a chance. Bobby isn’t it?”
She knows my name!
“Yeah, Bobby, that’s me.”
“So why didn’t you steal this one?” Maria tilted her head toward the EMTs as they struggled to port the big man up the jetty.
Steal? That’s a bit harsh.
“He wasn’t a bad guy.”
“How do you know?”
Good question.
“My gut,” Bobby patted his belly.
“Your gut?” Maria’s eyebrows perked.
“My gut,” Bobby smiled.
“Well Bobby, your gut just bound us to him until his next death.”
Shit! Forgot about that. Shit! We’re stuck here…together…me and her. This is it. This is the break I needed. I can use this. I can do some digging and figure out what happened to me. Plus, I get to hang out with the hot Angel for a while. Super bonus!
Bobby didn’t trust himself to speak so he nodded as solemnly as he could.
“We must fight,” Maria said matter-of-factly and re
ached for her sword again. “Only the winner will stay with him until his death.”
Whoa! Slow down girl. Think Bobby. Think hard and think fast. She’s not going to care that your memory sucks but she did get all cute and curious when you mentioned being late. That’s what’ll sway her. That’s what you gotta use to get her on your side bro.
“I have a better idea.”
“Better than ‘The Laws’, God’s laws?” Maria shook her head and pulled the blade from its sheath. “I don’t think so.”
“Hear me out,” Bobby had a feeling the Angel wanted to listen more than she wanted to fight. She could have attacked him as soon as Roger’s soul disappeared. She could have but she didn’t. There was no hate in her eyes but there was plenty of doubt. All he needed to do was give her an excuse, and fast. “Please Maria, just hear me out? If you don’t like what I have to say then I’ll just stand here and let you swing away with that thing. I won’t raise a finger to defend myself, I swear.”
Maria kneaded the handle of her sword, thought for a few seconds, nodded reluctantly and slid it back into place.
Good. Okay, now keep it real Bobby. No bullshit and no games.
“We let Roger live his life. We follow him, together, me and you. We watch him. If he goes bad, he’s mine. If he’s a good boy, he’s all yours.”
Maria considered the idea for a long minute. “No tricks?”
Really? That was a lot easier that I thought it would be.
“No tricks,” Bobby put his free hand over his lifeless heart as he made the pledge.
“It could take a very long time.”
I ain’t got nothing but time girl.
“I understand that.”
Maria studied the Reaper carefully for what felt like an eternity. “Why?” she asked at last.
Because you’re absolutely beautiful and I want to spend as much time with you as possible. Because anywhere is better than Hell. Because this might be my only chance to find out how I died and why I ended up in Hell.
“That’s a long story and I’d be more than happy to share it with you but not right now. The short version is that if Roger gets another chance, then so do I, and so do you if you want it. You can always change your mind, I ain’t asking you to sign a contract or nothing like that. How about this, in thirty days if it ain’t working out then we can try to kill each other. Winner takes all. What d’ya say?”
The ambulance doors slammed, tires spun and rubber squealed.
Maria looked toward the parking lot then back at Bobby. Fear filled her eyes but there was something beneath it.
Come on Maria, I could really use a fucking break here.
“Okay,” Maria relented. “We’ll revisit this in thirty days.”
Yes! Thank you, you beautiful, beautiful woman! Thank you!
“We have a deal then?” Bobby tried to play it cool.
“We have a deal,” Maria agreed and a hint of a smile turned the corners of her mouth.
Bobby missed it and stuck out his hand to seal the pack. Maria stepped back as if stung. “We cannot touch!” she screamed.
Whoa! Easy dumbass. Baby steps dude, baby steps.
Bobby stepped back quickly to show he meant no harm.
I don’t blame you girl, I wouldn’t want to touch me either. This whole Reaper thing is a bad look. The creepy robe and the pasty skin, the freaky nails and black eyeballs, the tall lanky thing and the weird scythe or sickle or whatever this is. It’s weird, I get it.
“Sorry. No touching. I got it, I get it.”
Maria nodded and eased a bit, “Now come on, we have to stay as close to Roger as we can at all times.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
That’s going to get real weird, real quick.
“Always, like all the time?”
Maria’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Sounds good. After you young lady.” Bobby bowed, extending one arm to guide her.
Maria smiled.
Bobby caught her trying to hide it as he unfolded.
I made her smile! Yeah Bobby! You go boy!
*
“Roger Crenshaw, thirty-four-year-old male Caucasian, approximately 6 foot two, two hundred sixty pounds. Drowned in salt water. Lungs cleared but his breathing rapidly deteriorated. No pulse for approximately six minutes. Unresponsive to rescue breathing and CPR. Hit him thirteen times with the paddles,” Lenny informed the ER nurse as they wheeled the blabbering fisherman through the congested corridors.
“Thirteen times?”
“Thirteen,” Lenny confirmed.
“That’s a lot of juice, dude,” Ray Chan said, he was Lenny’s friend, as well as his colleague.
“I knew he wasn’t done.”
“Might want to check that number if you catch my drift Lenny?” Ray didn’t look up as he guided the gurney around a corner and into the triage room.
Lenny didn’t answer. He wouldn’t falsify his report, he never did.
“What do we have here?” a young doctor asked as she pulled on latex gloves.
Ray repeated what Lenny had told him but left out the number that would leave his friend open to criticism. The doctor wasn’t having it. “How many times?”
“Thirteen!” Lenny called out before Ray could. He wouldn’t let his friend lie for him either.
Dr. Dijah peeked over her glasses at Lenny then at the raving fat man on the gurney, shrugged, nodded and got to work. “How are you feeling Mr. Crenshaw?”
“I died dude and a Grim-fucking-Reaper tried to take me to Hell!” Roger yelled, he hadn’t stopped since he regained consciousness.
Dr. Dijah had heard it all before. “How do you feel physically?”
“Fucking sore lady and cold as a witch’s tit.”
“Add lucky to that Mr. Crenshaw,” the doctor said with a smile.
Roger thought she had a pretty good point and pretty nice tits for an Indian chick.
*
Bobby and Maria watched the drama from opposite corners of the machine-cluttered room. The doctor checked Roger’s vitals and was both pleased and surprised to discover that the big man seemed to have survived death without any damage. The nurse cut off Roger’s wet clothes and wrapped him in foil blankets, put in an IV and quickly shot a sedative into the drip. It was more for the staff than the patient, Roger was a talker.
“So…?” Bobby tried to start a conversation.
Maria looked up from the floor she’d been studying intently. Her eyebrows perked, the eyes beneath them as confused as they were enchanting.
“We’ll be together, well, not…together like together,” Bobby was stammering, he felt like a middle school outcast trying to ask the high school prom queen out on a date. “We’re going to be in each other’s company for at least thirty days. I thought we could, you know, talk.”
“It’s against the rules.”
“We crossed that bridge already, don’t you think?”
She thought about it as Bobby stared, soaking up her every movement, her every quirk. “I suppose,” she finally replied with a shrug.
“Great!” Bobby nearly yelled.
Maria’s narrow brow wrinkled at the Reaper’s overenthusiastic response.
Easy there Bobby. Play it cool.
“Sorry. It’s just…it’s been a very long time since I had a friend.”
“We’re not friends,” Maria quickly crushed his budding happiness.
Ouch.
“Right. Sorry. Not friends.”
“Not friends,” Maria agreed and regarded Bobby as if he were the weirdest thing she’d ever seen.
“I’m not a freak or anything. I just haven’t spoken to anyone… anyone real… I guess, you’re real, right?”
“I’m real.”
You’re not trying to pick her up. Just talk to her.
“So, where to begin? Let’s see…um” Bobby spoke slowly and calmly, leaning against the wall to show
her he wasn’t going to move any closer. “I’ve been a Reaper for a while, not super long, like, maybe five years. That time I met you on the LIE was my second…assignment I guess you’d call it.”
“Oh,” Maria replied and thought for a while before continuing. “I’m an Angel, at least that’s what the living call us. We call ourselves Collectors, in Heaven they call our assignments collections.”
“Collections, really? Down there they call it recruitment.”
“Odd,” Maria said with obvious disapproval.
Not any odder than the rest of this shit.
“Weird to say the least. How long have you been…collecting?”
“I died in nineteen eighty-two,” Maria replied.
‘82! No way! She looks amazing for an 80s girl. That can’t be right. I’m so stupid, the dead don’t age. Dead is dead, dumbass.
"So you’re a child of the seventies, groovy.”
“Kinda, I guess.”
“Did you go to like, Angel school or something?” Bobby had so many questions.
“Yes, of course I did. It was lovely,” her face brightened and her beauty blossomed as she savored the memory. “It was very informative and very intense but I enjoyed it. The honor of being chosen to serve the Lord as a Collector is something words cannot describe.”
“Cool.”
I’m such a wordsmith. Idiot!
“Did you attend... recruiter school?” Maria asked with innocent curiosity.
Bobby grimaced, he’d tried so hard to forget the horrors he endured while earning his scythe but couldn’t, and doubted he ever would. “Yeah, it was…it was…”
Maria saw the pain her question caused and tried to withdraw it before it caused any more, “It’s none of my business. You don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, it’s cool,” Bobby wanted to tell someone but couldn’t work up the courage. “It was…he…it was bad.”
He looked at Maria. Sympathy furrowed her brow.
She’s perfect.
“It’s hard to explain,” he said.
“You don’t have to,” Maria replied at once. “You don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s my story. I…I can’t hide from it. I…can’t”
I want to. I want to wipe it from my memory but I can’t. I can still feel everything they did to me. I hear myself screaming. I hear Jones laughing. I should tell her everything but I can’t. I won’t. Not now and probably not ever.
Death Sucks Page 17
