Reapers

by Bryan Davis

  I stopped in my tracks. “It’s Shanghai!”

  Several voices erupted from the woods, each one echoing her name. Turning slowly, she probed the area with a menacing glare. For a brief second, she looked straight at Sing and me before continuing her scan.

  “Shouldn’t we help her?” Sing asked.

  “Best to stay hidden until she needs us.”

  Shanghai dipped down, scooped up three daggers, and flung them one at a time, two to her left, one to her right. Each throw ended with a thunk and a cry of pain. A weighted net flew over her head and knocked her to the ground. At least ten dark-hooded bandits stalked toward her in a semicircle, approaching cautiously with daggers drawn. Shanghai crouched under the weight, motionless, her eyes following her assailants.

  “Phoenix!” Sing hissed. “She needs us!”

  “Let’s go. We’ll use trip wires. Remember your training.” Sing and I prowled toward the ambush site, both of us reeling out throw lines from the spools on our belts.

  Shanghai rose slowly and grabbed the netting. Her shimmering movement locked the bandits’ stares on her, obviously an intentional diversion. She knew we were coming.

  After Sing and I handed each other the weighted ends of our lines, I popped all seven smoke capsules from my belt. Sing pulled out hers and gave me a nod.

  When we drew within range, I whispered, “Now!”

  Chapter Six

  I threw my capsules, scattering them at the bandits’ feet. Sing did the same. Plumes of smoke erupted around their legs. Holding tightly to our line weights, we split up and ran toward opposite ends of the semicircle.

  As our lines reeled out, the spools squealed. We held the lines at knee level and swept them through the sea of legs. Shouts pierced the smoky air. Bodies toppled. Thuds and cracks sounded. Obscenities flew, punctuated by coughs.

  Sing and I dropped our spools, grabbed the net, and threw it off Shanghai. In a blur of feet and fists, she flew at the bandits. I joined in, followed by Sing. I drove a foot into a man’s side, cracking his ribs. Sing leaped and kicked a bandit in the face. As she dropped to the ground, she thrust an elbow down into his sternum, making him crumple.

  We punched and kicked our way through the crowd. In the haze, Sing looked like a ghost herself, seemingly flying from bandit to bandit with her arms and legs twirling like propellers. A few bandits scrambled away, while others fell to our blows.

  Another figure wearing a shimmering cloak joined the fray. Although slower than the three of us, he did his share of damage, punching one bandit in the nose and leg sweeping a second.

  Soon, a breeze thinned out the smoke. Our Reaper foursome, now including Mex, stood in the midst of six or seven groaning and writhing bodies. Two bandits limped into the darkness like whipped dogs. Sing rubbed her elbow, though she showed no other signs of pain.

  Mex, now illuminated by his cloak, bowed toward Shanghai. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “Is that so?” Shanghai raised her hood, shading her eyes. “You were late. If not for these two, I might have been sliced like a pizza.”

  Mex waved a hand. “I saw them coming. I knew they’d help.”

  “Whatever.” Shanghai turned toward me and set her hands on her hips. As her expression warmed to a welcoming smile, her sparkling cloak billowed out in the freshening breeze, revealing her athletic frame wrapped by form-fitting Reaper’s attire. “Phoenix. It’s been a long time.”

  I gave her a nod. “It has. Great to see you again.”

  “Same to you.” Her gaze shifted to Sing, her smile intact though not quite as warm. “My thanks to both of you for your help, but let’s save explanations for the station.” She lifted each leg in turn. “I don’t enjoy wading in bandit sewage.”

  I returned her nod. “Agreed.”

  After Sing and I collected our spools and Shanghai found her staff, the four of us quick marched together, Shanghai’s and Mex’s cloaks providing enough light to see the path. I glanced again at Sing. Her smile spoke volumes. She was thrilled to have taken such a crucial role in helping Shanghai. She performed flawlessly, and I hoped my own smile told her so.

  When we arrived at the train depot, we slowed our pace and climbed the steps to the loading-platform level, then sauntered into Jumpstart Café, a coffee shop that catered to the city’s night crawlers. A pair of gas-powered lanterns sat at each end of a service counter, and a third hung from the ceiling at the opposite side of the shop, making the place an oasis of indoor light. Since restaurants were allowed a higher gas ration than were home dwellers, such shops became haunts for human moths seeking the comfort of a warm glow.

  As usual, the aroma of coffee blended with tobacco, beer, and sweat. Four of the café’s six stools were occupied by old, badly shaven men hunched over steaming dark brews, as if inhaling the vapor might revive a long-lost dream. With their elbows resting on the sticky counter and their clothes a mishmash of castoff jeans and sweat suits, these hobos would likely beg for loose change through their remaining years. Their dreams of a better life would never come true.

  A pair of hookers dressed in short, tight skirts sat on the other two stools, their rouged faces looking bored as they alternated between sips of coffee and drags on cigarettes. Five small tables lined two of the walls, all occupied by the typical customers—police officers, street sweepers, and utility workers. There would be no room in this café for four tired Reapers to sit.

  After using the restrooms, we each ordered a Vat—the shop’s euphemism for their extra-large size. While we waited for the coffee, a hum outside announced the arrival of the high-speed train.

  I walked to the picture window facing the tracks. The sleek cars rolled to a stop. When the doors slid open, several men and women filed out to the loading platform, most looking bleary-eyed as they half staggered to the stairs leading to ground level. This was our train, and it would stay here until its departure at five.

  Sing joined me at the window. “I wonder where they’re going in the middle of the night.”

  I shrugged. “Never bothered to think about it.”

  “They look so tired.” She leaned forward until her nose touched the glass. “It’s like they’re programmed, not really thinking about what they’re doing.”

  A dime-sized medallion slipped past her tunic’s opening, attached to a thin cord around her neck. The silvery disk sparkled, as if energized from within. She wasn’t wearing it earlier when she opened her shirt for the soul transfer. Maybe she had it in her pocket. No matter. It wasn’t any of my business.

  When our Vats arrived, I nodded at the train. “Let’s sit in our car. Plenty of seats, and it’ll smell better.”

  The four of us walked out the café’s back door to the loading platform and passed by the ticket machines without a second glance. Reapers always rode for free as long as we occupied our reserved car. Other passengers, few though they might be, were often scared of us—a reasonable fear considering the reputation of some of our clan. Most Reapers displayed a mean-spirited aloofness that reflected their hatred of their ball-and-chain service.

  After tromping to the last car, we slid into a pair of bench seats facing each other, Sing at my right, next to the window.

  Sitting at the window across from Sing, Shanghai laid her staff on the floor and lowered her hood. She pushed back her dark locks, revealing a brown birthmark on the side of her neck. Oval in shape and the size of a penny, it was typical for Reapers, a mark with special properties that proved our genetic ability to reap souls, though the size and placement differed with each Reaper. The Council learned of my mark when I was three years old. That’s when the ball and chain became mine to drag.

  When we settled, I touched Sing’s shoulder. “Shanghai, this is Singapore, better known as Sing.”

  Shanghai smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Sing. I heard from my trainer that you excelled in physical combat. Thanks for proving his opinion when I needed you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Sing gave h
er a polite nod. “I am honored by his assessment.”

  I kept my face expressionless. Sing and Shanghai had the same trainer? That was news. My trainer was a drunk. I had to learn most of my skills on my own.

  Mex extended his hand toward Sing. “I’m Mexico City, but that’s a mouthful. Everyone calls me Mex.”

  After they shook hands, I sipped my coffee, strong and bitter. Perfect. As soon as the others had sipped theirs, I leaned closer to Shanghai. “What was that bandit-fishing expedition all about?”

  Shanghai winked at Mex. “We had a deal. I transferred a soul to him in exchange for help with clearing out the park. I was tired of hiking around it. Let the bandits find someplace else to terrorize.”

  “And now I made quota.” Mex touched his valve and looked at me. “Sorry about skipping out on our date with the level two. My energy is just about kaput. I didn’t think I could handle it.”

  “It worked out all right. I reaped the ghost.” I nodded toward Sing. “First Gateway trip for her, so I’m showing her the ropes.”

  “Good to have an experienced guide.” Shanghai laid a hand on my knee. “I heard that you two have bordering districts and your apartments practically rub shoulders. Is that true?”

  “It’s true.” I glanced at Shanghai’s hand, still on my knee. “She’s just across the alley from me. We could probably jump from one fire escape to the other if we wanted to.”

  Shanghai pushed my leg. “I would love that. I could hop over to see you, and we could talk all night. No one would ever know.” She rolled her hand into a fist. “Hang the solitary-confinement rules. We’re not felons, right?”

  I took a long sip of coffee. Shanghai’s complaint echoed the thoughts of many district hounds, but words never changed reality. “True, but it would be a distraction, just like they say. Sometimes I can barely feel the death alarms even when I’m alone.”

  Shanghai slid her hand into mine and locked gazes with me. “That’s what I like about you, Phoenix. You’re the most dedicated Reaper in Chicago. I’m glad we’re finally on the same train to the Gateway.”

  “Wow!” Mex said. “What award are you shooting for, Shanghai? Bootlicker of the year?”

  “No, freak.” Shanghai elbowed his ribs, then turned back to me. “I’m serious. Ever since we graduated, I’ve wanted to tell you how much I admire you. I heard how you rescued ten people from an apartment fire last year. Most Reapers would have poured fuel on the flames while waiting for ghosts to pop out. But not you. You’re the real deal. You get your souls honestly.”

  I shifted my stare to our clasped hands. Mex was probably right. Something more than a Reaper-to-Reaper encouragement speech was going on. “Thanks for the pat on the back.”

  “No problem.” Shanghai withdrew her hand. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up in advance.”

  “A heads-up? What do you mean? In advance of what?”

  Shanghai lowered her voice, as if someone might be listening. “I got recruited by an Owl for a special reaping. I’ll be a Cardinal by the end of the week.”

  “An Owl?” I glanced briefly at Sing. “Is her name Alex?”

  Shanghai blinked. “Oh. You know her. That’s good. Anyway, during the reaping, I’ll stay in an on-site facility, and then I’ll move to a cool condo in a safer neighborhood. After that, my reapings will be assigned to me. No more hunting down death alarms. And best of all…” She looked at Mex and Sing before continuing. “Best of all, I can choose a roommate to come and live with me, and I’d like you to be my roommate.”

  I drew my head back. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, think about the benefits. No more wandering through the city streets searching for tragedy. No more fighting bandits.” Her full lips pursed into a comely pucker. “And no more long and lonely nights.”

  My ears turned hot. “That’s kind of… well… a private matter, don’t you think?”

  Shanghai glanced at Sing and Mex once more. “Oh. I see. Well, even if news gets around, it won’t exactly hurt your reputation. But who cares about street gossip, right?”

  “My reputation? What do you mean? And what do the gossipers say about me?”

  Mex cleared his throat. “What she’s trying to say, Romeo—the word on you is that you’re not AC or DC. You’re a flatliner. Your pulse wouldn’t pop even in a porn shop.”

  I tried to speak, but my throat caught. My ears burned hotter than ever.

  “Just shut up!” Sing said. “Both of you!”

  “Why?” Mex grinned. “It’s true until he proves otherwise.”

  “Then we’ll prove it.” Sing leaned over and kissed me on the lips, warmly, tenderly. As she pulled away, she ran her soft fingers along my cheek and whispered, “There’s more where that came from.”

  I felt my mouth drop open, but I couldn’t help it. My heart pounded. A tingle raced from my lips to my shoulders and down my spine. I could barely breathe.

  Mex grabbed my wrist. “I take it back. He’s at about two hundred beats per minute. Definitely not a corpse.”

  I jerked my arm away, almost spilling my coffee. “Of course I’m not a corpse!” The shout surprised me. Getting worked up about Mex’s joke made the embarrassment even worse. Still, Sing’s words echoed in my mind. There’s more where that came from. The thought kept my heart racing.

  Shanghai firmed her lips, obviously trying to keep from laughing. “Well, I’m glad to know that your body is fully functional.” She touched my knee again. “Seriously, Phoenix, I’ve been alone for more than three years. You know what it’s like.” A genuine smile replaced her smirk. “Remember the talks we used to have after our training fights? From the time we were both seven years old, we would sneak out of our rooms and meet in the pantry because we weren’t allowed to have friends. We’d munch on crackers while we nursed each other’s wounds, even though we had inflicted them ourselves, and we’d talk about our fighting techniques and how we would beat each other next time.”

  Her brow shot upward. “Oh! And our pets! You had a field mouse you caught in a dresser drawer, and I had a bunny I rescued from a cat. And we had to leave them at home when they took us away, so on cold nights, especially if our trainers had just shaved our heads, it felt good to talk about how soft and warm our pets were. And then we’d talk about our families and how much…” Her voice faltered. “How much we missed them.” She gazed at me with teary eyes. “Do you remember?”

  Her words deflated my anger and calmed my voice. “I remember. Those were good days.”

  She sniffed, blinking through her tears. “I’d like those days to come back, so when I become a Cardinal, I’d like to request you as my roommate, but I won’t unless you agree.”

  I looked at Sing. She folded her hands in her lap, her expression blank. She needed no words. She didn’t like the situation one bit. “Give me some time to think about it.” I infused as much sincerity into my tone as I could. “I mean, I’d like those days to come back, too, but I have… well… a lot going on.” I wasn’t lying. It would be great to be with Shanghai instead of sneaking around the city streets scavenging medicines and sitting alone waiting for my neighbors to die, but the Mollys of my district needed me.

  I rubbed my pewter ring with my thumb. And my covenant wouldn’t allow such freedom… or comfort.

  “That’s fine.” Shanghai’s smile wilted. “When I get promoted to Cardinal, I’ll come looking for you. Maybe you’ll get things straightened out by then.”

  “I know what’s eating him,” Mex said. “Word on the street says the Fitzpatricks were hauled to the corrections camp by the river. He’s probably plotting a way to rescue them.”

  “The camp? That’s where Alex told me to go.” Shanghai pinched her hood. “I’m supposed to show up this afternoon with an empty cloak.”

  “A rash of deaths at a centralized location?” I asked.

  “That’s exactly what she said.” Shanghai furrowed her brow. “Did she recruit you?”

  I nodded.
“She gave me twenty-four hours to decide.”

  “Two Reapers?” Shanghai’s frown deepened. “They’re clearing out the whole camp, aren’t they?”

  “Clearing it out?” Sing said. “Do you mean…”

  Mex slashed a finger across his throat. “Terminating the residents. Punching their tickets to the afterlife. Killing them is cheaper than feeding them.”

  “And I’m supposed to reap the convicts.” Shanghai grasped her cloak and shook it. “I feel like a sewage drain.”

  “Why so surprised?” I asked. “What did you think you were going to do there?”

  “When she said a rash of deaths, I thought she meant ten, maybe twenty. You know, execute the worst criminals. But since she wants to add you within twenty-four hours…” Her cheeks reddened. “Wow!”

  “So what are you going to do?” Sing asked.

  Another Reaper shuffled into the car, his hood up and his head low. When he settled into a bench seat a few rows away, Shanghai answered in a whisper. “I’m going to reap the souls, of course. Someone’s got to do it. Who can stop the Council, anyway? And when the prisoners die, which Reapers would you want to be there? I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I can reap twenty in an hour if I have to, and no bandit’s going to take one from me. That’s another reason I staged that little show of strength in the park. Word will get around that I’m not going to back down from anyone, and the souls in my cloak are going to get safe passage to the Gateway. I want everyone in Chicago to know about me. A potential bandit will be a dead bandit.”

  “Brava!” Mex clapped his hands. “Brilliant speech!”

  “Stuff it, Mex. I’m not looking for approval.” Shanghai breathed out a sigh. “Listen, Phoenix, most of the people in the camp are criminals. You’ve reaped at the executions, right? It’s not like it’s fun reaping murderers and rapists and carrying around their foul souls in our cloaks, but we’re doing the city a service keeping their ghosts off the streets. It’s our job.”