by Bryan Davis
“I know, I know.” I shook my head. “But most isn’t enough. Colm and his family aren’t criminals. I have to get them out of there.”
“Technically, they are criminals,” Mex said. “I heard they got caught with unauthorized drugs.”
I growled under my breath. “It’s not a crime to try to save a little girl’s life.”
Mex raised his hands. “Look, I’m just stating the facts. What they did is illegal. You can argue all you want about whether the law is right or wrong, but we Reapers still have to pick up the souls, no matter what. We can’t wait for justice before we service a soul.”
“No,” I said, “but it doesn’t mean we can’t have both.”
Shanghai squinted. “Both?”
“Justice and service.” I pressed my lips together. I wanted to say more, but I couldn’t be sure Shanghai and Mex would be on my side. The fewer people who knew what I was thinking, the better.
Mex laughed. “Phoenix, you’re such a boy scout. You hope for the impossible.” He shrugged. “You’ll never get it, but at least you have ideals.”
“And that’s why people in his district trust him,” Sing said. “They know he’s there to help them, not just to do a job.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. If Sing knew that the contraband was actually mine, would she still support me? In any case, there seemed to be just one real option, and Sing might be the only Reaper I could trust, at least for now. “Shanghai, I guess you’re right. If people are going to die, we need to be there. I’ll go to the camp.”
Sing swung her head toward me. “What?”
I whispered, “Just trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Shanghai pumped a fist. “That’s great! You and I will make an amazing team. We’ll carry a truckload of souls to the Gateway, and no bandit will dare come near us.”
“Maybe so, but I have an idea I’m working on. I’m going to see if I can swing a deal with Alex.”
“Why would she make a deal with you?” Mex asked.
“Let’s just say she owes me a favor.”
“Okay…” Shanghai ran a finger along the rim of her coffee cup. “But what about the roommate question?”
I leaned close to her. “What are your accommodations at the camp?”
“There’s a building in one corner that used to be a dorm of some kind, and it has suites, like motel rooms. You know, two bedrooms with a bathroom in between. Anyway, most of them aren’t used anymore, but for reapings they keep a suite ready for two Reapers. And there’s camera surveillance. After all, it’s a prison compound.”
“Then we’ll be suite mates,” I said. “And we’ll insist on privacy. No cameras allowed.”
Sing’s mouth dropped open. “Phoenix?”
“Well…” Shanghai settled back in her seat. “That’s an unexpected turn of events.”
Mex withdrew his valve adapter tube and swatted my knee with it. “So much for wanting to keep your distance.”
“Back off.” I kicked his shin. “That’s not what I have in mind.”
Shanghai leaned close again. “So what do you have in mind?”
Another Reaper walked into the car and sat at an empty bench. The first Reaper had fallen asleep leaning against a window, but the new one shifted toward us, his hood shadowing his eyes. He seemed to be looking at Mex, but after Mex’s story about a Reaper trying to hunt him down, it could have been my imagination. Either way, a hunter wouldn’t bother four Reapers sitting together.
“I don’t want to talk about it here,” I said, “but if you trust me, then play along, at least for now. If Alex doesn’t agree to my proposal, then the deal’s off.”
“I’m in,” Shanghai said. “How could I lose? No more lonely nights.”
Mex slid his adapter tube back into his cloak pocket. “I wish I could help, but they wouldn’t let a roamer close enough to the camp to spit into it. I’ll be busting tail trying to get souls to finish my last cycle, and Shanghai won’t be around to barter with.”
“I’ll figure out something. We’ll work together to make sure you get enough.” I turned to Sing. “You’re directly involved in my plan. Are you in?”
“I don’t know, Phoenix.” Wringing her hands, she looked out the window at the Chicago skyline. “Can we talk about it privately?”
“Sure. No problem.” Sing’s vibes felt cold. And why not? She probably thought I was ready to abandon my district, that I was trashing my principles. And might she be just a tad jealous? If so, I could easily squash that feeling. I just needed a chance to tell her the rest of my plan, but not with Mex listening.
After four more Reapers entered the car and settled into their seats, Mex tossed his empty cup to the floor and yawned. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat. We’ve got a few hours to kill, and I plan to snooze them away.”
“Same here.” Shanghai guzzled the rest of her coffee, leaned against the window, and closed her eyes, the cup still in her hand. “If anyone wakes me before we get there, I’ll whack him with my staff.”
“No worries.” Mex drooped his head. Within seconds, both began breathing in heavy, rhythmic pulses. Like most Reapers, they had learned the art of sleeping whenever and wherever they could.
I whispered to Sing, “I guess we’d better sleep, too.”
“Sleep?” Her brow dipped low. “If you can sleep.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She looked me in the eye, her whisper sharp. “Didn’t that kiss mean anything to you?”
I glanced at Shanghai and Mex. They hadn’t stirred. “I thought it was just to shut them up.”
“It wasn’t.” She scooted closer to the window. “But if you want to shack up with Shanghai, that’s fine with me.”
“Wait a minute.” I glanced at the Reaper who had stared at us earlier. He was now leaning against a window, his hood covering his face. “I know it sounded like that, but there’s more. I want you to come with us. All three of us in the suite with you and Shanghai sharing her bedroom. Alex doesn’t need to know. That’s why I don’t want cameras.”
“Oh.” Her brow lifted. “But why do you want me there?”
“To help me get Molly’s family out. I need someone who has the skills to spring them, someone who can fly under the radar. Shanghai and I will probably be busy reaping, so I’ll need you to do the sneaking around. I’m not sure what you’ll do yet. We’ll have to play it by ear.”
“What about our districts?”
“Alex will probably get a replacement for mine, and Mex can handle yours. You heard him. He’ll be glad to be a hound again. It’s an easy way for him to finish his last cycle. I just don’t want him to know where you’ll be. That’s why I didn’t spill the details. We can make up an excuse for your temporary absence.”
Sing gazed into my eyes, her features softening. “I’m sorry, Phoenix.”
“Sorry? You mean you won’t do it?”
“No, I’ll do it. I’ll be glad to do it. And maybe the people I know can help us.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. I said that people trust you, but I didn’t for a while. So… I’m sorry.”
I looked into her eyes—weary and wet. “No problem. I’m sure it sounded pretty strange.”
“It did, but I didn’t want to say much. You know. The prudish thing. If you really want to be with Shanghai—”
“I don’t!” I cringed inside. That came out too harshly. Still, it communicated my thoughts. I had no romantic feelings for Shanghai or any other Reaper for that matter. At least I couldn’t let any feelings break through. Misty was waiting, so I had to wait. Besides, Reapers had to construct an impenetrable shell. Witnessing tragic deaths and the resulting wounds of savage grief had taught me that long ago.
I slid the pewter ring up and down on my finger. Mex was right. In some ways, I really was a flatliner. Although Sing’s kiss had stirred my emotions, I could control them. I had to control them.
After a deep sigh, I whispered, “I didn’t mean to
bark at you.”
Sing smiled, though she appeared a bit wounded. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“You will understand… eventually. After you handle a few dozen more deaths, your nerves will get frayed, too.”
“I believe that. They’re already unraveling.” Sing glanced at Shanghai. “When are you going to tell Shanghai about me coming?”
“As soon as the three of us are alone.” I stifled a yawn. “Think you can sleep now?”
She laughed softly. “Just try to stop me.”
“Couldn’t stop Mex.” I nodded at him. With his chin nearly touching his chest, his neck’s angle looked uncomfortable at best. “At least Shanghai’s got the window to lean on. I’m used to riding alone, so I usually use the window as my pillow.”
“Here.” Sing angled her body toward me. “Lean your head against mine.”
“Uh… all right.” When our heads touched, her curls fell across my face. They tickled my nose, but I didn’t bother to brush them away. I’d be asleep in no time. Besides, her hair smelled nice, like flowers in a meadow, not overwhelming, just a gentle blend of petals and grasslands—sweet and natural.
I took in the aroma and let my mind drift away. Sing’s shoulder pressed against mine, providing a sturdy foundation. And she was like that—strong, supportive, someone I could trust without reservation. I had been stupid to question her motives earlier. She was new, scared, vulnerable. She didn’t have a deceptive bone in her body.
Rumors about her history came to mind, played out in mental images. I let my thoughts melt into the daydream. Thinking about Sing would be a pleasure, even if the details of her life were sketchy. I had pieced a lot of it together from the gossip network, throwing out whatever Mex didn’t corroborate. Although Mex’s character had a few rough spots, he was usually a reliable source of information.
One fact was certain. Everyone knew about Sing’s mother’s reputation. Tokyo was considered the most powerful Reaper the world had ever known. She could enter the ghost realm and reap a level three without batting an eye. That power, along with her acting prowess, fostered distrust among the Council members, giving rise to a popular theory that they conspired to bring about her untimely death.
As I allowed sleep to overtake me, the images morphed into a dream. Sing knelt at a graveside, her hands covering her face as she wept. A setting sun, veiled by haze, cast long tree-shaped shadows across her kneeling form, painting her dark dress an even darker shade. Block letters etched the tragedy across the tombstone: Takahashi Fujita (aka Tokyo—Reaper Divine). Below that, Japanese characters filled the remaining space, most likely spelling out the name and perhaps dates of birth and death.
A black man wearing a dark suit spread a cloak over Sing’s shoulders and knelt beside her. “Your mother would have wanted you to have it.”
“I don’t want it.” Sing shrugged the cloak off. As it slid down her back, she lowered her hands and looked at the man. “Being a Reaper is what killed her.”
“No, sweetheart. Her willingness to sacrifice herself for those she loved led to her death, but being a Reaper did not kill her.” He picked up the cloak and draped it over his arm. “I’m not sure you’ll have any choice about taking the cloak. When you hear my news, you might understand.”
She squinted at him. “What news?”
He pushed a finger through her hair, brushing back her signature curls. “The ultraviolet tests came back on that mark. I didn’t tell you while we were waiting to see if Fujita would survive, because—”
“You mean I’m a Reaper?” Sing pointed at herself. “Me?”
“Why are you so surprised? It doesn’t always skip a generation.”
Sing rose to her feet. “But I’m almost fifteen. The marks are supposed to be there from birth.”
“It’s probably been there all along. Your hair’s as thick as your mother’s, and your skin’s almost as dark as mine. Genetics kept your birthmark hidden.”
Sing backed away. “But you can keep it a secret, right? A father can still hide a minor child’s medical records, can’t he?”
“Not this record. The only facility qualified to make the determination automatically reports all positive tests to the Gatekeeper’s Council. They already know.”
“Then why did they even do the test? We shouldn’t have asked for it!”
“I didn’t. The doctor who ordered the biopsy didn’t tell me he was screening for anything else. I thought he was just ruling out cancer. But since I had to bribe so many people to get the simplest tests, I couldn’t make too many demands.”
“But…” Sing stared at her father, tears coursing down her cheeks. “But I don’t want to be a Reaper.”
“Sweetheart…” He reached around and draped the cloak over her shoulders again. With loving hands, he fastened the clasp and smoothed out the folds. “It’s in your blood. There’s a lot of good you can do.”
While looking at the clasp, she touched her sternum just below her throat, exposed by the V-neck dress. “Will I have to get one of those valves?”
He nodded. “And you’ll have to go through an accelerated training course that lasts about a year and a half. Most Reapers are taken when they’re very young, so you’ll have a lot of catching up to do. At least you already have a cloak spun from your mother’s hair, so the close genetics should allow you to reap with it. And you won’t have to go through the head shavings to get a cloak of your own made.”
Sing’s chin quivered. “So I’ll have to leave you.”
“For twenty years, yes. Then you can decide whether or not to continue as a Reaper.”
Sing grasped the cloak with both hands and pulled it close. New sobs broke through. She hugged herself and twisted her body back and forth, making the cloak spin. “I’ll… I’ll miss you, Daddy.”
He wrapped his arms around her, stopping her motion. “And I’ll miss you, little flower. But I’ll do everything I can to help you, even if I have to do it in secret. I promise.”
As they cried together, fog blew across the gravesite. The scene faded to gray, then black.
I blinked my eyes open. The train had left the station and was now rumbling along the tracks, rocking from side to side as it negotiated a curve. Sing’s hair swayed with the motion. Neither of us had moved a muscle, nor had Shanghai, though Mex’s head bobbed with the train’s jostling. They slept on, oblivious to the brightening sky—the sun veiled, as always, by the meltdown’s vaporous shield.
The dream scattered into fragments in my memory, though Sing’s turmoil-twisted expression stayed front and center, and her sobs echoed like a dying lament. Of course, her father’s face wasn’t clear in the dream. I didn’t know what he looked like. According to the gossip, he died the day after Sing left for training school, so I would never find out. What was worse, his promise died with him. It seemed that Sing had become an orphan indeed.
I crossed my eyes and looked at Sing’s head, trying to penetrate the curls to get a glimpse of the birthmark, but her hair was too thick, just as the dream had said. Who could tell how true it was? Mex surely told the story exactly as he had heard it, but whenever mysterious deaths were involved, cover-ups abounded. Someone was always hiding something.
I let my gaze drift to her chest. The chain led behind her tunic, the medallion now hidden from sight. Farther down, her hands lay folded in her lap. The dream provided a good reminder—Sing was really a lonely orphan. Tragic circumstances threw her into this dangerous job against her will and after only a year and a half of training. No wonder she didn’t know all the tricks of the trade, and no wonder she was so nervous about rule breaking and intimate contact. She was just trying to survive.
After taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes and nestled closer to her. In spite of the rules and my flatline ways, I would be her friend. From now on that would be my sacred duty, and nothing could keep me from fulfilling it.
Chapter Seven
Screeching train wheels woke me from a dreamless daze. On the opp
osite bench, Shanghai stretched and yawned. Mex was already standing in the aisle, his eyes bleary and his face ashen.
Shanghai scooped her staff from the floor and used it to vault up and slide toward the aisle. “Rise and shine, you two.”
Sing pulled her head away from mine, blinking and smacking her lips. I looked out the window at the gloomy sky looming over the forest. Two outhouses stood a few paces beyond the far side of a raised wooden platform, the only structures in the remote station. A sign with twin two-by-four standards had been nailed sloppily to one edge of the platform. Its black hand-painted letters read Gateway Depot #3. Since only Reapers boarded and disembarked here, no one bothered with constructing ticket counters or courtesy shelters.
“Looks like rain,” Sing said.
“Let’s hope not. Fallout rain makes the souls jumpy.” I rose and stretched. “The concentration usually isn’t as bad in the rural areas, but you never know.”
Sing nodded at my pocket. “What time is it?”
As I reached for the watch in my trousers, my hand brushed across a cloak pocket. It was empty. But was it supposed to be? Wasn’t something there when I went to sleep?
My mouth dried out. The syringe! I had forgotten all about it. It would be insane to bring it to the Gateway. Maybe I moved it without remembering.
I searched around my seat and reached into all my pockets but found only the souls’ photo sticks in the other cloak pocket and the watch in my pants pocket. I pulled out my watch and read the face. “It’s seven-twenty.”
“You look kind of pale.” Sing said. “Is something wrong?”
“Maybe.” I looked at the aisle. The Reaper who had stared at us earlier stood at the end of the line waiting for the door to open. If he stole the syringe to fence it at the shroud, he was risking a lot by taking it with him to the Gateway. I averted my eyes. Best to just let him keep it.
I gave Sing a weak smile. “It’s probably nothing.”
We pushed behind Shanghai and Mex. When the car door opened and our foursome tromped onto the platform, Shanghai blocked us with her staff. The other Reapers shuffled past and trooped down the two steps that ended at a gravel path leading to the Gateway depot. A few took advantage of the outhouses before beginning a slow march along the path.
