“No, we’re a team, a package deal kind of thing,” Lenny wasn’t about to let Roger go back into the apartment where’d they’d both nearly died without him.
“So let’s go then,” Roger threw open his door then slowly and carefully climbed out onto the street.
Lenny did the same, holding his door open for the Reaper who donned his hood and followed. It was slow going now that Roger walked with a cane and a heavy limp courtesy of Indiwongga’s bullet. He winced with every step but pushed through the pain. Up in the third-floor hallway two teenagers rolled dice against the grimy, scuffed base moldings. “What you need?” one asked and buried a hand in his hoodie pocket, eyeballing them threateningly.
Roger reacted without thinking, “NYPD homicide, we ain’t looking for you so beat it.”
The two kids exchanged a look of uncertainty, nodded then hustled toward the stairway without another word.
“What are you crazy?” Lenny whisper-roared. “What if they pulled out guns or something?”
Roger knew it wasn’t exactly a smart move but it felt right in the moment and it worked. He shrugged.
“Ms. Simmons! Jordan!” Bobby yelled as loud as he could. “It’s me! The…”
Jackie burst through the door of her apartment and Jordan followed. “You came back! You came back!” she cried, sprinting toward them.
Crashing into Bobby without slowing, wrapping her arms around him, she cried, “You came back! Bless you! You came back.”
“I’m sorry it took so long,” Bobby whispered, prying her off. “I tried to get here sooner but it…”
“It doesn’t matter! Praise Jesus, it only matters that you came. You came!”
Can’t remember the last time someone was happy to see me.
“I did.”
“You did. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Thanks mister,” Jordan echoed his mother’s sentiment.
“No problem but we gotta go,” Bobby replied.
“Leave?” Jordan frowned.
“Yes and the sooner the better. These two can’t be seen here, they’re in enough trouble already,”
“This is our home. And what about the Angels?” Jackie asked, unwilling to give up hope.
“I don’t think they’re coming but we have a plan,” Bobby offered, hoping it would be enough because it was all he had.
“A plan? What kind of plan?”
“A plan to get you get you to Heaven, to Wendy.”
Carrot dangled.
Jackie studied the hallway she’d spent her life and death roaming. It held her but for no good reason, if anything, the foul memories it housed should have done the opposite.
“It’s our only chance,” Bobby added.
“Come on Bobby,” Roger whispered, his nerve was fading. “Those two kids could have gone for backup.”
“They know you?” Jackie asked, surprised.
“Yeah. Long story. We have to go.” Bobby turned toward the stairway hoping it would force them to follow him.
“Mommy,” Jordan looked up into his mother’s deep brown eyes with his own and nodded.
Jackie nodded back, took her son’s hand and followed the Reaper.
“Let’s go!” Bobby screamed in Roger’s ear as he passed.
“Let’s go,” Roger echoed the faint whisper he’d heard.
“They hear you?” Jordan asked.
“Only the big guy, Roger,” Bobby replied. “He’s kinda special.”
“Like a retard?” the boy asked innocently.
“Jordan!” His mother wasn’t happy with his choice of words.
“No,” Bobby chuckled and winked at the kid. “Just special.”
“Cool,” Jordan awkwardly winked back and smiled wide.
*
It was a long ride back to New Rochelle in the back seat of Lenny’s two door Wrangler. Packed tight on the short, uncomfortable bench, the dead discussed their predicament, how it came to be and how Bobby planned on making it right. Jackie listened carefully and asked a lot of questions. Bobby dreaded telling her the truth but did it anyway, they deserved it. He told them that Indiwongga and Ortero were there for him. He explained how they were merely collateral damage in a feud that had nothing to do with them, and that their souls were without a home because he was on a fool’s quest to save the world.
When it was all out, Jackie sat in silence, watching the traffic crawl by under the harsh orange lights that lined the eight lane disaster that was I95. Bobby didn’t know how she’d react. If she vowed revenge, if she cursed him, if she hated him, he wouldn’t blame her. He expected it or worse. What he didn’t expect was her thanks.
“You saved my Wendy from those demons,” she whispered, her hands clasped between her breasts as if in prayer.
I didn’t save her. She’s dead.
“Well…sort of…but…”
“You tried to save us,” she continued.
“I swear I did all I could…”
Jackie interrupted his guilty stammering again, “You’re an Angel. I don’t care what you got on. I don’t care what you’re carrying or how you ended up in my home. To me, to us, you’re an Angel.”
“Ms. Simmons…” Bobby tried to correct her.
“Jackie, my name is Jackie. I don’t need anyone to tell me who they are or what they are. I can see who you are, on the inside. You’re not one of the bad guys. You’re trying to save everyone but yourself. Bad guys don’t do that, the devil doesn’t do that. No, what do you call’em, Reapers would do it either.”
Lady, I’m the worst kind of bad guy. Everything I’ve done is for me, pure selfishness and nothing more. Everything is because of me and for me. I don’t really give a shit about Satan and God and all that nonsense. The only reason I’m doing this shit is to save my own ass and get my hands on Maria’s. Plain and simple. All the other stuff, the hero nonsense and the guardian Angel crap, its bullshit.
“I’m no Angel,” he groaned.
“You are to me,” Jackie replied. “To Jordan too.”
“I’m not. I’ve been to Hell, literally. I’ve done things, I’m still doing things that no Angel would ever do.”
“No Reaper either,” Jackie pointed out a simple truth.
Bobby nodded.
If she wants to believe I’m her savior then who am I to stop her. If the plan works, I just might be. If not, add her to the list of my fans in Hell.
17.
As if living in the shadows of a deeply in love gay couple’s love nest wasn’t weird enough, adding two ghosts was the wacky icing on the bizarre cake that was Bobby’s afterlife. It was a reality show everyone should see. Jackie had a zillion questions, Roger and Lenny a zillion more and the kid had a few of his own that had Bobby’s head spinning. As the official mediator between the living and the dead he was under a constant barrage and craved the small hours after midnight when the living slept and the ghosts took to their room, his old one, to wait out the night. Silence never seemed so precious and so sweet but there was no peace in it.
Alone, he paced the quiet in search of a plan. Time was running out. Rachkovsky, Indiwongga and Ortero would be missed and someone would come looking for them. The Angel, Leon, had promised to find Maria but Bobby put little stock in it. Maria had made a lot of unfulfilled promises as well. She’d swore to bring their discovery to God and make sure he did something about it, and she swore she’d come back. She hadn’t.
Not even a fucking postcard.
Bobby wanted to believe she’d got caught up in something, that her warning was ignored or she ended up in Heaven’s version of the looney bin, anything that would make it not her fault. Any of it or all of it could be true or she could have simply abandoned him to rejoin her fellow Angels without a word about who or what or where or how she’d spent her lost time among the living. If it was shame or guilt that kept the secret her own, how could he blame her? In his heart he believed she wasn’t that person, that her word meant something, but time whittled his resolve. He wa
s scared, and beginning to think he’d have to figure out another way to fix what was broken in the link between life and death.
*
“What the fuck do you mean you want to kill Lenny?” Roger, shocked and enrage, cried.
Long Island Sound sparkled under the full moon above its silvered black surface. From where the odd couple sat on the dock that pierced New Rochelle’s mellow harbor, they could see the lights of Glen Cove across the narrow expanse of gently rolling waves to where their friendship began. Bobby hoped he wasn’t about to end it.
“Hear me out, Roger.”
Roger turned on him. Hoodless, Bobby’s face rigid with determination. Roger knew the look all too well. Bobby had a plan and probably a dangerous one considering he’d dragged him out into the cold in the middle of the night to reveal it. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” he asked.
“No.”
“But you think it’ll work?”
No more bullshit Bobby, yo owe him that much.
“I hope so.”
“Shit Bobby! I hope so? Is that the best you can do?”
“You want me to lie?”
“No, but still, maybe. I don’t know, sell it a little.” Roger was cold and tired, his leg was killing him and he wanted to be at home in bed.
“Sales were never my thing.” Bobby shrugged.
“No shit,” Roger growled.
Bobby sat quietly, letting the crisp, salt air caress his face while waiting for Roger to ready himself for what he had to say. With his hood down, exposed, he could feel. The simplest breeze was as exhilarating as a rollercoaster and as seductive as the first touch of a beautiful woman. He yearned so deeply to breathe but settled for opening his mouth, letting the briny air into his lifeless chest on its own accord.
“So? Let’s hear it,” Roger sighed.
“We have to get Jackie and Jordan to heaven, right?”
Roger nodded.
“And we have to find an Angel to do that, right?”
Another nod.
“Now that you guys are retired…”
“Disabled?” Roger intervened. “Retirement is a choice.”
Oops. Sore spot.
“Right, sorry dude. We can’t go around looking for people about to kick anymore, right?”
“Well, we could hang out in old folk’s homes, hospices, ERs, that kind of thing,” Roger replied, he’d been doing some thinking of his own.
“Yeah but then we’d be out in public and there’s a chance more Hunters might show up. If that happens people will die, innocent people like Jackie and Jordan.”
“Good point.”
“So we kill Lenny.”
“Dude, there’s no fucking way that’s happening!” Roger roared.
“I’m not talking about blowing his brains out or anything. I was thinking opiates. We get some Narcan, Lenny eats some pills, dies, the Angel shows up, you revive Lenny, the Angel gets stuck, we explain what’s going on and we send him or her, along with Jackie and Jordan, back to Heaven to relay the message.”
“What about the Reaper?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“It? I thought you didn’t like being referred to as an it.”
“Roger.”
“What if it takes care of you?”
“It won’t.”
“And Lenny?”
That’s the tricky part.
“As long as the Angel has a soul to go back with it should be fine.”
“Out with it dude!” Roger demanded. “You’re a shitty liar.”
“I’m not lying.” Bobby looked at his friend, a friend he was asking too much of. “I’m just not so sure it works exactly that way.”
Roger climbed clumsily to his feet from where he sat with his feet dangling above the water. Leaning heavily on his cane, his arms bearing the weight his pinned and plated leg no longer could, he hobbled down the dock. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he cried over his shoulder
“No Roger, I’m not. But I wanted to ask you first.”
Roger stopped and spun, eyes narrowed and glaring above an angry snarl. “Because you know Lenny will do it! This is some serious bullshit bro! You’re such a fucking asshole.”
Roger was right, Lenny would. He’d do anything to save anyone. It was who he was.
“I know.”
“What do you think the chances are that whatever Angel shows up for Lenny will help us or to even listen to us? You said they weren’t even supposed to talk to you.”
“Jackie and Jordan will be there to back me up.”
“Lenny can’t die! I don’t want to lose him! I just found him!” Roger shouted, the fear of losing the only person he’d ever loved unraveling him.
Bobby climbed to his feet and faced him, wanting approach him but giving him his space. “I can’t do this alone Roger. I need your help but I completely understand why this scares the shit out of you. If you say no, then it’s a no. I will never breathe a word of it to Lenny. I’ll think of another way.”
“It’s just so much, ya’know?” Roger cried through his tears.
“I know.”
“You’re asking him to risk his life, his soul.”
“It’s not just for me.”
“You sure bro? Maria? Hell? You got a lot riding on this, right?” Roger said, raising his eyes to expose the hard truth of his accusation burning inside them.
Ouch. True but it still hurts.
“Listen, I know you think I’m doing this to save my ass and yeah, that’s how it started but it’s more than that now. People’s souls are being stolen and they’re being taken to a place I’m not even sure the worst of us belong. Good people, people like Lenny, people like Jackie and Jordan, are being dragged away and there’s no one to help them because nobody knows! It’s not going to stop bro. Satan is building an army with them and when he’s finished, he’s going to march them right on up here and take over. It’s not just about me anymore Roger. It’s bigger than me, bigger than you, it’s as big as it fucking gets and pretty soon nobody, up there or down here, will be able to do jack shit about it if we don’t stop it!” Bobby’s voice rose as he spoke, his words carried across the water, fading to silence.
“That was fucking dramatic,” Roger replied after a few seconds of consideration. “We’re going to have to start calling you Bobby Drama.”
Bobby smiled, he couldn’t help but love the big man for popping the bubble of tension between them. “Yeah, that’s me, the drama king of the dead,” he agreed.
Roger knew he owed his life, and the life of the man he loved so much, to the Reaper. Without his coaxing and encouragement, he’d still be sitting to the couch in his shitty one bedroom on the other side of the Sound, smoking weed and wasting life. Bobby and Maria were the reason he was who he now was, who he was proud to be. Bobby had other motives, Roger knew them because Bobby told him. But over the last few months the Reaper had changed, just like Roger had. He’d become more than a refugee from Hell, a reminder of his past and a frightening promise of his future. He’d become a friend. Despite the robe and the scythe, his creepy powers and constant presence, Bobby had become his best friend.
“Ask Lenny,” Roger hated himself for saying it but knew it was what Lenny would want.
Bobby ran to him, threw his arms around the big man and squeezed tight. Roger hugged him back.
“Thanks Roger.”
“I said you could ask him, he’s gotta make up his own mind Bobby, it’s his call.”
“Thanks anyway, ya’know, for… for being such a great friend.”
“Friend! We’re friends now?” Roger cried. “I never got that memo.”
Glad we’re done with all the deep, soul searching, serious stuff.
“Drama queen.”
“Because I’m gay?” Roger obviously was too. “That’s messed up.”
“No.”
“I’m telling Lenny. You’re in for a stern talking to.”
“Oh, ok gramps.” Bobby laug
hed.
“Cane jokes? No way dude, way too soon for cane jokes!” Roger snarled playfully.
“How about gay fat guy jokes?” Bobby asked with a smirk.
“Do your best dickhead but tonight while I’m spooning with my bae while your cold, dead ass is sitting alone in the dark wishing you could play with yourself.”
“Ouch,” Bobby grimaced.
“Poke the bear, ya’know.”
“That should be the title of Lenny’s autobiography.”
Roger howled at the moon, Bobby did the same. “Let’s go home,” Roger said when the laughter waned.
“Home sounds good.”
*
“So how do we do this?” Lenny asked almost immediately after hearing Bobby’s proposal.
“Seriously?” Roger snapped. “Not even a moment to think about it or a ‘Hey Rog, what do you think?’ Really?”
“Sorry,” Lenny replied from across the kitchen that currently served as a conference room. “Hey Rog, what did you say when Bobby asked you about it?”
Uh oh, you put your foot in it now big guy! Mayday! Mayday!
“I said I fucking hate it and I do, I fucking hate it!”
Lenny knew something had been wrong because Roger had been quiet all morning after his field trip with Bobby the night before. “I’m not exactly jumping for joy either but we have to do something right? We can’t just sit around waiting, pretending it’s all going to go away. Those hooded creeps Bobby told us about are going to come knocking on the door eventually and they won’t be selling fucking cookies.”
“Len, it’s super dangerous.”
“Roger’s right, there has to be a different way to do this,” Jackie added her two cents but only Bobby heard it.
“There isn’t,” Bobby replied.
“What?” Roger asked.
“Jackie said there has to be a better way,” Bobby interpreted.
“Thanks Jackie, a voice of reason at last,” Roger said, thrilled to have an ally.
Lenny studied Roger lovingly then turned to Bobby and did the same to the hoodless Reaper. “We have to help them,” he almost pleaded.
“I know,” Roger replied and Lenny loved him for it.
“It’ll be okay babe,” Lenny assured Roger as he reached across the kitchen table to squeeze his big hand.
Death Sucks Page 34
