Reapers

by Bryan Davis

  My face grew hot. “You could’ve just asked.”

  “I wanted to surprise you.” Still looking straight ahead, she kept her expression blank. “I suppose the surprise is ruined now.”

  I tried to read her voice for any hint of deceit. She probably thought Misty was my sister, so that might be a way to get her to tip her hand. “Do you know if all three still live together?”

  “Not yet.” A smile bent her lips. “I still have more research to do.”

  I suppressed a wince. That didn’t work. I tried to think of another way to get her to spill information, but nothing came to mind.

  She opened one of the Hilton’s double doors and ushered me into a small lobby where three high-backed chairs and a sofa surrounded a low table. Fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickered, and worn spots and stains marred the flat carpet. Apparently “the Hilton” had seen better days. A camera mounted on a corner wall bracket followed our movements, letting out a soft whir as it rotated.

  A clinking sound drifted from a hallway to the left. We followed it to a dining area where Shanghai sat at a two-person table just a few steps inside. At least six other tables of various sizes and shapes stood to the left and right. Chairs perched upside down on the empty tabletops, many with cobwebs strung from leg to leg. Another camera sat in a bracket on the back wall, but it stayed motionless.

  With a fork poised over a circular meat patty, Shanghai pushed back her hood and smiled. “Would you like to join me, young man?”

  I nodded. “Assuming Alex approves.”

  “I do. I’ll get the cook to send a meal for you.” Alex took my suitcase. “While you’re eating, I’ll put this in your room and personally check to make sure there are no cameras. Shanghai can escort you to your suite when you’re finished. She’ll fill you in on what I’ve told her so far.”

  When Alex departed, I slid into the chair across from Shanghai and leaned forward. “I got some good info on this place, so—”

  “Shhh!” She glanced at the camera, then whispered, “There’s a microphone hidden somewhere close by. I found out the hard way.”

  “How?”

  “I muttered something about the meat being as tough as shoe leather. The cook came in later with a new plate and said, ‘Try the other shoe.’”

  I grinned. “Actually, that’s pretty funny.”

  “True, but it kind of shook me up. They can probably hear our whispers now.”

  I leaned back. “I’m not worried about it. I actually told Alex we’re going to try to spring Colm and his family.”

  Her eyes shot open. “What! Are you crazy?”

  “I traded that info to get rid of the cameras. I’ll tell you more when we get to our rooms.”

  She touched her valve, fingering the clasped hands. “I’ll look forward to that.”

  A man wearing a dirty apron over a white T-shirt walked in, clanked a plate down in front of me, and grumbled “Bon appétit” as he shuffled away.

  I stared at the meat patty, stiff mashed potatoes, and string beans. “Is any of this worth eating?”

  “Only if you want to vomit.” Shanghai slid a fork to me. “You might have a stronger stomach than I do.”

  “Well, I need to eat something. The potatoes look edible.”

  “Maybe. If you like them crunchy.”

  For the next few minutes, I force-fed myself the potatoes. They had no discernable taste, and I had to swallow hard to get them down. Still, they filled the void in my gut, and I was giving Alex time to check on the camera situation.

  When the last bite hit bottom, I pushed my chair back and rose. “Let’s go.”

  Shanghai led me up a flight of stairs lit by a single flood lamp in one corner, then through a second-floor entryway and down a dimly lit hall until we stopped in front of a worn wooden door with an elliptical metallic label—205. “This is your room,” she said, handing me a key. She pointed several steps farther down the hall. “And two-oh-seven is mine. We can pass through the bathroom in between. No kitchen, though. We’ll pick up our meals in that dining area.”

  I searched the hallway’s ceiling and walls—no cameras so far. “Got it.”

  As I inserted the key, Shanghai padded along the carpet toward her room. “I’m going to get out of this costume. I’ll knock on your bathroom door in a few minutes.”

  “Sound’s good.” I entered and flipped on the wall switch. Across the room, a bulb in a shaded lamp flashed to life, providing only a little light. Partially spent candles standing here and there along with several matchbooks proved that electricity shut-off time didn’t exclude the Hilton, and a lack of windows made the dismal situation worse, especially since the room felt warm and stuffy. Getting some fresh air from outside wasn’t an option.

  After tossing my cloak and weapons belt on the bed, I scanned the room for cameras. An empty bracket, similar to the camera brackets downstairs, hung at one upper corner. The walls were bare except for a few cracks in the plaster, an ironing board folded into a nearby recess, and a framed painting above a two-person sofa. The oil rendering showed the Gatekeeper sitting on a park bench with a little towheaded boy in his lap. Both smiled while other children frolicked on playground equipment—a fantasy, really, at least for the people in my district.

  A door stood closed to my right. I opened it, letting light into a bathroom. The size of a walk-in closet, it had the typical setup—a linoleum floor, toilet, sink-and-vanity combo, mirror, and curtained shower stall. The faucet in the sink leaked with a steady drip, and the toilet gurgled every few seconds. Another door stood closed on the opposite side—Shanghai’s access to the bathroom.

  I shut my door and sidled to a waist-high dresser where my suitcase sat. I flicked open the latches and distributed my clothes and Mex’s cloak in the three stacked drawers, two of which had a knob only on one side. Changing into shorts and T-shirt would be more comfortable, but with a journey still ahead to retrieve Sing, it would be best to stay clothed for travel, minus my cloak. I could put it back on later.

  When I lifted the final garment, the adapter tube slid across the bottom of the suitcase. I breathed a deep sigh. Poor Mex. Just a few more weeks and he would have been home in Abilene, maybe sipping iced tea with his parents and his younger brother. His nightmare service as a roamer finally completed, he could have lived in peace, far from the dark Jungle that turned him into a desperate soul trader.

  I grabbed the tube and shoved it into a drawer. Those pigs! They murdered him! No trial. No witnesses allowed to testify. They wouldn’t even listen to me. They didn’t care about him or anyone else! If only there was a way to crash the system, unplug the Gateway, and send all the Reapers home.

  I slammed the drawer. No. It couldn’t happen—not as long as lost souls wandered around unable to get to their destination. Mom, Dad, and Misty would have to keep waiting for my return.

  Letting out a huff, I sat heavily on the double bed. Something bounced under my cloak. I dug out a dark flat object and turned it over—a computer tablet. I never had a tablet of my own, but I knew how to use one. Hanging around Paul and other DEOs provided some benefits.

  When I tapped the power button, the screen blinked on, showing my face with “Phoenix – District 19” underneath. I pressed my thumb on the screen’s security box. The image’s eyes flashed. My face disappeared, replaced by a bright blue background and three application icons labeled Schedule, Map, and Messages.

  At the bathroom, a light glimmered under the door then disappeared. Maybe Shanghai had opened her access door, though no latch sounds had come through.

  I tapped on the Schedule icon. Nothing happened. I tapped it harder. Still nothing. Mimicking Paul’s fix-it technique, I slapped the back of the tablet. The screen cleared, and a document opened showing times and activities for the coming week. Each day listed breakfast at eight, lunch at noon, dinner at six, and curfew at eleven.

  Tomorrow’s schedule included a short tour of the compound in the morning, a session called Demon
stration in the afternoon, and finally, in the evening, Entertainment in Jail Yard.

  Reaping filled the rest of the week’s spaces. At the bottom, a note said to wear our Reapers’ cloaks and traveling clothes for every session.

  The light in the bathroom glimmered again. I set the tablet on the bed and tiptoed to the door. With a knuckle, I gave it a light tap. “Shanghai? You in there?”

  No one answered.

  I opened the door slowly, silently. A dim glow emanated from behind the shower curtain. With my fist tightened, I set a foot gently on the floor and eased my way in. The glow, twin clouds of pale blue haze, vibrated on the curtain, like candles flickering in a fog. As I reached for the edge of the curtain, I listened. What was that sound? A hum? A whimper?

  I jerked the shower curtain across the rod. A girl no older than eight stood on the other side. Barefoot and wearing a dirty, ankle-length dress, she stared at me, her eyes glowing. With tears dripping and disappearing before they struck the drain at her feet, she sniffed and said, “Do you know where my mommy is?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I don’t know where she is, but maybe I can find her.” I bent over and looked her in the eye. She appeared to be a level two plus. A few questions would determine how entrenched she was. “What’s your name?”

  “Tori.”

  “And how old are you?”

  She pushed dark stringy hair from her eyes. “Seven.”

  “Well, Tori, maybe we can work together.” I straightened and gestured for her to follow.

  As she stepped onto the linoleum, the opposite door opened, letting in more light. Shanghai entered carrying a computer tablet. When she saw Tori, she halted and reared her head back. “Well! Who do we have here?”

  “Tori. I’m guessing a two-point-four, maybe higher.” I waved for Shanghai to follow as well. “Let’s see what we can find out about her.”

  When the two entered my room, Shanghai, now dressed in black shorts, white T-shirt, and ankle-high red socks, sat on the bed with her tablet in her lap, crossing her legs under it. The red socks drew my eyes to her legs, lean and toned.

  I wrenched my gaze away, sat on the sofa, and patted the space next to me. “Tori, sit here.”

  She climbed up, her hands and knees not quite touching the seat. This ability to adapt her non-physical body’s position with respect to furniture meant that she was, indeed, higher than level two, though her glowing eyes gave evidence that she hadn’t quite reached level three.

  Once she settled, I slid my arm around her, hoping to pose as a family member. “Tori, where was the last place you saw your mommy?”

  “At the grinding station.” She pointed toward the hallway. “In one of the other buildings.”

  “Oh, yes. I should have known.”

  Tori squinted. “How could you know? I’ve never seen you working there.”

  “Two point seven,” I whispered to Shanghai before focusing on Tori again. “You’re right, but I would like to know more. What does she grind?”

  “She grinds the glass for the…” She wrinkled her button nose. “For the lenses.”

  “Ah! The lenses!” I sneaked a glance at Shanghai and gave her a quick head gesture. She picked up my signal to join in. Since she went through the training, she would know to take the role of the ignorant bystander while I maintained familiarity.

  “Tell me about the lenses,” Shanghai said. “I don’t know anything about them.”

  Tori formed her fingers into circles around her eyes. “They’re bigger than glasses. We put them into the white circle things.”

  Shanghai nodded. “How big are the white circles?”

  “Big enough to stand on, like a trash can lid, only a little taller.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. They sounded like Gateway pedestals. “What does your mommy do at the grinder?”

  “Well, it’s a big wheel that spins real fast, and Mommy makes the lenses smooth and the right shape.”

  “Can you remember the last thing she said to you?” I asked.

  Tori touched her scalp. “She was telling me to keep my hair away from the grinder.”

  Shanghai cringed but said nothing.

  “The next thing I knew,” Tori continued, “I was standing in the middle of the square where we put everything together.”

  “The assembly room,” I said.

  She nodded. “But I couldn’t find Mommy anywhere, and no one would talk to me.”

  Shanghai prodded me with a finger. “Do you think her mother was reassigned?”

  I lowered my voice. “More likely reaped. She might have tried a bit too hard to rescue her daughter, if you know what I mean.”

  Shanghai’s cringe returned. “Unfortunately, I do. They aren’t likely to send a condemned prisoner to a hospital.”

  “Right. No one is supposed to leave this camp alive.”

  Shanghai shifted closer to Tori. “Well, sweetheart, would you like me to take you—”

  “Wait!” I held up a hand. “Tori can help us.”

  Shanghai narrowed her eyes. “How?”

  “She seems to know the layout of this place, so maybe she can—”

  “Be a guide,” Shanghai whispered. “And if no one would talk to her, she’s probably invisible to non-Reapers, so that’s even better.”

  “If she can control her visibility, that would be best. She could run interference for me when I go out tonight.”

  “Distract the guard, you mean. Pretend to be an escaping prisoner. But the only way she can consciously control it is if she learns that she’s… well… passed on.”

  “Exactly.” I gave Shanghai an approving smile. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re just as smart as I remember.”

  She offered a thankful nod. “As are you, Phoenix.”

  I gazed into her glistening eyes. It felt good to be with her, to renew a long-lost friendship. I wanted to tell her so, tell her how much I enjoyed her company, but now wasn’t the time. “So we have to figure out how to inform Tori of her condition without scaring—”

  “I’m going,” Tori said as she slid out of her seat. “It’s been nice talking to you, but I still have to find my mommy. She’s probably worried about me.”

  “Wait.” I instinctively reached for her, but my hand passed through her body.

  She turned and blinked at me. “Why does that happen?”

  I pulled my hand back. “You mean why do things pass right through you?”

  “Uh-huh. It happens a lot. It’s scary.”

  “Sit down, please.” I patted the seat again. “I’ll tell you where I think your mother is, but there’s a lot to explain.”

  “While you do that…” Shanghai pressed her thumb on her tablet screen. “I’m going to study the map of the compound.”

  “Thanks.” I smirked. “I get the easy job.”

  “Hey, someone’s got to tackle the tough stuff. I’ll brief you when I get the layout memorized.”

  For the next several minutes, I talked with Tori and eased her into an understanding about her status as a dead little girl and the likelihood that her mother had died trying to rescue her, allowing her to come to the conclusions herself. She took it surprisingly well, probably because she had a growing suspicion all along. Once she accepted her condition and realized that we would eventually take her to the Gateway to be reunited with her mother, the rest was easy.

  “So,” I said, settling back in my seat, “if you can learn to control being visible or invisible, you can help us.”

  Tori wrinkled her brow. “I think I already did once. A guard saw me a little while ago. I was looking out the window when you got here.”

  “Ah!” I winked. “That was you I saw spying on me.”

  “Yup.” Her grin revealed two missing front teeth. “I ran away, but there wasn’t another door, so I stopped. I was afraid the guard would catch me, but he just walked right past me. He called me a…” She covered her mouth. “I shouldn’t say it. It’s a bad word.”

&nbs
p; “Don’t worry. I don’t need to hear it.” I drew a mental picture of the confrontation, though I had no idea what the inside of that building looked like. “Do you know how you disappeared?”

  Tori nodded. “I just wished I could, real hard, like when I wished my daddy wouldn’t die. Wishing didn’t work for Daddy, but it worked for me.”

  I wrapped my fingers around Tori’s hand, pretending to hold it. “And do you know how to become visible again?”

  She cocked her head. “What do you mean? You can see me.”

  “We’re Reapers, so we can see invisible souls. You might be visible to others now, but we can’t tell. Since you managed to get across the camp’s yard without being noticed, you’re probably still invisible.”

  Shanghai shifted closer. “How’d Tori get here without one of us seeing her?”

  Tori pushed a ghostly finger through my chest. “I heard Alex talking to you, so I followed her here. While she was standing on the sofa and reaching to the ceiling, I sneaked into the bathroom and watched her.”

  “How?” I asked. “The bathroom was closed when I got here, and you can’t open doors.”

  “It was?” Tori blinked. “How could that be? I walked right in.”

  “And the shower curtain was closed.” I looked at Shanghai. “She still has awareness issues. She doesn’t know she walked through a curtain and a solid door.”

  Shanghai nodded. “I picked that up.”

  “Still at least a few days short of level three.” I turned back to Tori. “Did Alex do anything else?”

  Tori tapped her chin. “Let’s see. She put your suitcase on the dresser, but then she dropped something and pulled out the dresser to look for it.”

  Shanghai’s brow shot up. I gave her a nod. That sounded suspicious.

  I signaled for Shanghai to continue the conversation. As I padded toward the dresser, she set her tablet down, detached the camera from my weapons belt, and shifted to the sofa. “And then Alex left?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh. But she never saw me.”

  I leaned over the dresser and looked behind it. A walnut-sized disk microphone adhered to the back panel. Alex was likely listening in. That meant she heard our plans to use Tori as a distraction and a guide.