Death Sucks

by Andrew Mallen

  “I am, and he is Sin. We are the same, so to speak. He is capable of all that I am.”

  “But you beat him once,” Bobby went to the fight card. “You can do it again.”

  “He was younger and less corrupted then.”

  “And now?” Maria cut to the chase, afraid Bobby might work himself into another tizzy if they kept rehashing the past.

  “That is the question we need answered before we can go any further,” Gordon said, looking at Bobby.

  “And how are we supposed to do that?” Bobby asked.

  “You must go and see him,” Gordon replied, he wasn’t smiling anymore.

  *

  “No!” Maria answered for the Reaper while her panicked eyes danced from one to the other, daring either to argue.

  Gordon smiled at her fondly, sympathetically, knowing he was asking too much of them but asking anyway.

  “You want me to go back there?” Bobby moaned.

  “He can’t go back, they’ll know! They know he’s been up here with me! They’ll know he killed those things that came for Jackie and Jordan! They’ll do things to him!” Maria argued.

  “I want them to know about all that Robert has done,” Gordon dropped another bomb.

  “Wait. What? Are you serious? And ‘things’, really Maria?” Bobby was taking shots from all sides.

  She ignored him. “My Lord, please, you can’t ask him to do this. They’ll do horrible things to him, they’ll torture him in ways I can’t and don’t want to think about.”

  “Yes, perhaps, but not until Sin has spoken to him. My brother will not be able to resist finding out all he knows about me.”

  “You have to be shitting me?” Bobby wasn’t even part of the quarrel, his defense mounted instead by an Angel, an Angel who obviously loved him as much as he did her.

  Cool. You go girl!

  “You can’t! He won’t!” Maria cried, tears streaming down her rage reddened cheeks.

  God saw the pain and his eyes mirrored the emotion. “Hear me, please?” he asked.

  Maria nodded, she didn’t want to but she did. Bobby slouched into his chair and waited to hear about the fun adventure Gordon had in store for him.

  “My brother will want to know all he can about me. He will want to know if he is stronger or if he needs to wait any longer to start his war. That knowledge will make Bobby invaluable to Sin.”

  “Oh, okay, so I tell him you’re, like, a holy version of the Rock with insane ninja skills, that you grew super powerful and have an army of, like, Seal Team Six type Angels, all steroid raging and black lit, ready to bring the pain?” Bobby said, thinking he knew where Gordon’s plan was going. “But then what? Good, old Bobby gets a pole up the ass, tossed on a spit and slow roasted for the next ten, maybe twenty billion fucking years? Good plan.”

  “No!” Maria shouted, eyeing Gordon, willing Him to obey her.

  “That is not what I had in mind,” Gordon said.

  Bobby sighed.

  “You tell him I’m afraid,” Gordon tried again to explain. “Tell him I’m old and weak, easy prey for something as powerful and as awesome as he is. Tell him I’m so terrified of him that I had Maria trap you in the living world to find out all you knew, that she tried to turn you into a spy, intending to send you back for more.”

  “A spy?” Bobby groaned, disappointed and unconvinced. “That’s the best you can do?”

  “Yes, a spy.” Gordon’s replied, scooting to the edge of the loveseat, eager to reveal more. “Tell him that I know all about what he’s doing but am unable to stop him because he is too powerful. Convince him I want to make a new deal, that I will renegotiate our pact if it means saving Heaven, and myself.”

  “He won’t buy that bullshit,” Bobby offered his two cents.

  “Yes he will. Sin is selfish, greedy and vain above all things. If he thinks I am weak, then he will be unable to resist the edict of his ego, his thirst for revenge, his long suppressed need to take all that I have and all that I love. I know him. If you convince him that I am his for the taking then he will not be capable of denying himself the opportunity to see me fall, to punish me, to kill me.”

  “So you plan on playing him like a fiddle at a folk fest?”

  “I’m luring him.” Gordon saw it differently. “Tossing out the bait, hoping to catch a fish so to speak.”

  “I’m the bait.”

  Great! That’s me, Bunker Bobby. Here I am Satan-fishy, come bite me in half Satan-fishy.

  “Yes.”

  “And if you catch your fish?”

  “Then it will be up to me to correct my mistake,” Gordon looked at the table between them when he said it.

  “You’re going to kill him?” Bobby asked, needing to know exactly what he was risking his soul for.

  “If I can,” God replied, holding Bobby’s eyes with his own.

  “If? That’s not exactly a morale booster there Gordo.”

  “I cannot make a promise I am not sure I can fulfill,” he replied, raising his eyes to meet the Bobby’s.

  Bobby understood, having worn those particular shoes before. “I get that.”

  *

  “Make him believe that you fooled us, that you played along with our game while remaining his loyal servant. Tell him you realized quickly about Maria’s ploy and that you turned the tables, feeding her false information while squeezing her for all she knew. Make sure he knows that your return to us is a pivotal part of your plan, that if you do not, then we will know of your betrayal and his advantage will be lost. Tell him that you are to meet us once you return to reaping souls, that we will be waiting for you in the living world.”

  “Not bad,” Bobby gave him his due credit, there was a lot of thought put into the plan and the ever so important extraction which he was a big fan of.

  “What if Sin doesn’t believe him?” Maria asked, she wasn’t sold just yet.

  “He must make him.” Gordon left no wiggle room in the command.

  “Sales were never my thing,” Bobby whined.

  “It’s not about the salesman or how you go about selling it, it’s about what you’re selling. You are offering him that which he has always wanted, what he’s desired for most of his life. It is his dream. All you have to do is show it to him a path to reach it and let his greed guide him down it.”

  “And me?”

  “He will use you as bait to draw me out in the same way I have.”

  “Really? Bait? Is that all I’m good for, seriously?” Bobby didn’t mind the idea of being Gordon’s lure, but with Satan he envisioned huge, rusty hooks being shoved in all sorts of uncomfortable places.

  “You are worth far more but for this to work then yes,” Gordon replied, honest to a fault.

  Dude, lie once in a while. Sales isn’t exactly your strong suit either I guess.

  “I can’t and no, it isn’t.”

  Bobby studied the table and its three empty cups as his mind ran through the thousands of ways Gordon’s plan could pan out. Almost all of them ended up with him on a spit.

  “There is a great deal of risk,” God agreed without being asked.

  “You think?” Bobby snapped.

  “Yes,” he answered unnecessarily.

  Maria sat quietly with tears in her eyes.

  “It is not an order,” Gordon offered.

  “What?” Bobby missed his meaning.

  “You do not have to do it,” Gordon explained, his usual smile accompanied the disclosure.

  “And if I don’t?” Bobby liked the idea of sliding off the hook but was sure there would be a catch, there was always a catch.

  “Then we will find another way,” Gordon replied without judgement.

  “And me? Maria?” Bobby needed details, the devil was in the details.

  “You can join us in my world,” Gordon offered him more than he’d ever expected.

  “So, just so we’re clear, I blow you off and you take me to heaven?”

  “Yes. You are not one of t
hem Bobby. You are not the kind of soul meant for that place,” the old man’s eyes glowed with pride and with gratitude as he spoke. “And, after all you have already done and endured, you deserve more than I have to reward you.”

  Bobby looked at Maria, she appeared as confused as he was, she just did it cuter. This was it, his ticket to the big show. All the suffering, all the pain and fear, it was all for what God just offered. Hell was behind him, good times lay ahead, he was off to heaven with his dream girl by his side. All that was left was to tell God he was going with door number two, the one without the threat of endless torture and eternal pain, and it was over.

  No brainer kid. Job done. So long Sammy, see you in Miami.

  “I’m in,” Bobby announced.

  You stupid motherfucker!

  *

  “Maria is going to kill you,” Gordon said it as if it was no big deal, as if killing the Reaper wouldn’t test the courage and dedication of all those involved in the murder.

  “No!” the Angel screamed in shock and protest.

  “You must,” Gordon replied firmly. “It is the only way.”

  “I don’t think I can,” Maria whimpered.

  “You can,” Gordon encouraged her.

  “Maria, listen to me,” Bobby leaned across the table and took her trembling hand in his. “You have to. I know it’s hard, I had to do it to you remember? It sucks, like hardcore sucks, but if I can do it, you can do it. You’re tougher than me right? Definitely cuter. It’s not like a real deal murder or anything like that. It’s just a means to an end, and in the end me and you get to be together forever, which is kinda cool if you’re into hanging out with super cool, good-looking guys like me ya’ know.”

  “You’re so stupid,” Maria snorted through her tears.

  “Yes I am and if stupid me can decapitate beautiful you then you can do it right back.”

  “Bobby…” Maria wanted so badly for him to stop his babbling and let her fail, to let her save them both, but she couldn’t. If he was willing to return to face the horrors he had so vividly described during their time together, if he was ready to go back to the place she knew he feared more than anything else, then she had to help him in any way she could. “Okay.”

  “Thank you,” Gordon whispered to both of them.

  *

  Bobby smiled lovingly at the trembling Angel who stood poised to decapitate him. Starbucks was as quiet as a tomb. The living had long gone, the last barista unknowingly imprisoned the trio when she locked up for the night. Bobby felt wrong just being there but even more so trying to persuade the woman he loved to chop his head off.

  “I can’t,” Maria cried as the conflict inside her pushed her passed her limits.

  “You can,” Bobby wanted to let her win, to give her a pass, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. “I did it to you. You owe me one.”

  The Angel forced a weak smile, wiped away her tears with the back of one hand and took a deep breathe to steady herself. “Okay…okay, since you put it that way,” she replied unconvincingly.

  “Good Maria,” the old fisherman said, stepping back to give her room.

  “Bobby, I’m sorry, can you turn around?” Maria asked shamefully.

  The Reaper froze.

  Oh shit this is really happening! I’m going back! What the fuck was I thinking?

  “Bobby?” Maria pleaded. “Please?”

  “Yeah…sure,” he smiled a pathetic, fearful smile and spun slowly to face the front window and the deserted parking lot beyond it.

  “Ready?” Maria asked and drew her sword from where it hung at her hip.

  “We’re sure I’ll end up in the right place?” Bobby began to question every aspect of their plan at once.

  “Yes,” God replied.

  “One hundred percent certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because they never told us where we’d end up if we were…you know…killed,” Bobby recalled Jones’s reluctance to answer that very question.

  “My Angels have told me that they have defeated the same Reapers several times. Sin recycles, it only makes sense if he is building an army,” God repeated what he already explained a dozen times.

  “But…” Bobby searched for another stall tactic.

  “Bobby,” Maria spoke over his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

  “But…”

  “No buts remember,” she whispered in his ear then kissed him softly on the cheek.

  The gentle exhale of her sweet breath and the tender brush of her lips made Bobby tingle from head to toe.

  “If it goes bad I will come for you,” she assured him. “I promise.”

  Bobby loved her for saying it but doubted there was anything she or Gordon could do if he ended up on Satan’s shit list. Knowing she meant it, knowing she would try, that she loved him enough to try, was all he needed. “Do it,” he commanded.

  Maria didn’t hesitate, for her sake as well as his. With the skill of a samurai and the speed of a ninja she sliced Bobby’s head from his neck in a blur of gold and a fluttering white cloth. Neither Bobby nor his head hit the freshly mopped slate floor, blinking from the living world a moment after the strike. His robe collapsed with nothing to fill it, pooled for a moment then folded into itself until it was nothing more than smoke and dust. Maria cried and stumbled, using her sword as a crutch to keep from collapsing under the weight of her grief. God put a hand on her shoulder as it shuddered. “Three days my child, you will see him in three days,” he whispered.

  Maria looked at God, her eyes portrayed what lived inside her heart. “I’m so scared,” she moaned softly.

  “I am too,” God confessed.

  6.

  The heat hit him hard. He’d forgotten the weight of it, the burden of just enduring it. “I fucking hate this place,” he growled into the darkness.

  He didn’t bother exploring, he knew exactly where he was. The shitty rough mattress, the coarse stone, the stink of fear and agony, it wasn’t the Four Seasons. He waited, rubbing his neck to make sure his head was properly attached and wishing he’d taken door number two.

  Stupid moron. Fool. Retard. Dumbass. Shit for brains. God offers you a free pass to Funtown and you decide to play hero. Robert James Grant, you my man are the stupidest mofo on the planet…check that…in the…every-fucking-where! .

  His ass had barely gone numb when the dark gave way. The far wall birthed a door and the red flickering light of the burning sky flooded in. The screaming and the wailing of his fellow condemned followed with Bobby’s least favorite teacher into his cell.

  “I expected better from you yank,” Jones spat. “A lot fucking better!”

  Bobby rose slowly to face him, “Did I disappoint?”

  “Oh yes you did you little shit,” Jones sneered and held up one long, knotty finger. “But the good news, for me anyway, is that I get to punish you for being such a complete fuck wit.”

  “I learned from the best,” Bobby should have kept his mouth shut but he couldn’t.

  Hate flashed across Jones’s pale, narrow face. With a wag of one deadly digit he flung Bobby across the cell and into the unforgiving stone with the echoing crunch of breaking bones. Another toss sent him flying in the opposite direction, face first into the waiting wall with a wet smack as his face shattered. Jones whooped and released Bobby to crumble to the floor in a lifeless pile.

  “I’ll peel you,” Jones growled through clenched teeth, his face not a foot above the pulp that was Bobby’s. “I’ll whittle you down to your bones but you’ll live maggot. You’ll feel. You’ll beg! You are mine Grant, all mine, and I will do things to you no man has ever dared dream of.”

  Good times. Is that nasty breath of yours part of the torture because if it is it’s working. What’d you eat, a shit sandwich with diarrhea sauce and puke fries?

  “Fool!” Jones kicked him hard. “Still haven’t figured out how to keep that smart mouth and that idiotic mind of yours quiet!”

  Bobby wanted to reply, to kee
p needling Jones until he blew his stack and finished him once and for all but he couldn’t. He had a mission, he had people depending on him and he couldn’t risk pushing the twisted, English prick too hard and end up broken beyond repair. He did what he should have done the first time he’d been in hell, he kept quiet. Jones sensed his surrender and smiled, “Come on Grant, you have a date with the Master.”

  Bobby groaned, trying to focus on the pain in order to hide his thoughts and intentions.

  “What? No wise ass comment? No witty insult? Come on Grant, don’t be a pussy!” Jones raised Bobby up and spun him, head over foot, like a human centrifuge as he taunted him. “Come on boy, wakey wakey.”

  Bobby managed to groan despite the fact that his jaw was broken in three places, his nose crushed, his mouth was full of his own shattered teeth and most of the splintered bones in his body were being ground together in a symphony of suffering.

  “Oh goodie,” Jones golf clapped, halted the torture and doubled Bobby’s pain with one word. “Heal.”

  Mixed in with his own wailing Bobby could hear Jones laughing. He hoped, even if everything else failed, that he’d get a chance to give the nasty fucker a hefty dose of payback. He hoped for it with all he had as the churning sea of agony rolled over him.

  “Now then, right as rain,” Jones inspected Bobby as he circled slowly. “Can’t have you all bloodied and broken when you meet the Master. Piss’ em off it would, not being the first to have a go.”

  Bobby said nothing, he stored the info and waited, head down as if still befuddled by the pain.

  “Come on then. On your bike, can’t keep the Master waiting,” Jones chirped and marched out into the corridor, hung a left and disappeared.

  *

  The hallway was an inferno. The burning sky above it baked them as they trudged along. The screaming, Bobby had almost been able to forget the screaming. Wailing and moaning, begging and pleading, threats and promises bombarded him from everywhere at once. The sorrow was palpable, its intensity tangible.

  “Almost there asshole,” Jones announced without turning after what felt like hours of marching.

  “Don’t you have a class to teach or something?” Bobby asked, curious why Jones had been the one to come for him.