Don't Fear the Reaper

by J. E. Taylor

  “I didn’t see anyone, Mom. Why don’t you let me finish making the fudge and you go lay down in the living room, okay?” To my mother’s credit, her voice didn’t shake nor did she show any signs of fear, but somehow I knew her heart was knocking in her chest as hard as mine was. Terror radiated from her, but for different reasons than the potent panic filling my bones.

  The reapers weren’t here for us. No, they were here to stand as a warning. A warning of just how easily they could slip into our lives and yank anyone we cared about at a whim. Their warning was simple. “Do not interfere in the war we are about to wage.”

  I had no idea if my father was okay or not, but they had set this trap and we walked right into it. That turned my fear into liquid fury, burning through my veins. “Where’s my father?” The question came out in a low growl despite the deep seeded dread pummeling my chest.

  The reaper closest to me pointed his bony finger at me and a voice that I could only categorize as a squeak from hell filled the house. “That is not your concern.”

  “Let him go.” It wasn’t a question, or a plea. I gave an order and I was certain they had to follow it.

  Laughter rang in my ears. “You have no power over us, boy.”

  “Tell me what you did with my father.” My hands balled into tight fists against my thighs and I willed them to speak, to spill the secret.

  “He’s in Purgatory, guarded by Leviathan.”

  “Who’s Leviathan?”

  “He guards the Gates of Hell.”

  “Are you telling me my father’s in Hell?”

  The reaper chuckled and disappeared.

  I stood, stunned, staring at the empty space in the dining room doorway. Shuffling noises behind me caught my attention and I spun to find my mother’s wide-eyed gaze locked on me, and her knuckles white from her death grip on the doorframe. “What did they say?” Her voice quivered and I knew she heard my side of the conversation but her mind just wasn’t equipped to piece it together, not after the last few hours of chaos.

  “They took him to Purgatory.” I didn’t think her face could turn the shade of gray-green that reminded me of the walls in the boy’s bathroom at school and I moved on instinct, reaching for her as she collapsed. I caught her and put her on the ground as gracefully as possible and I was able to lay her down without slamming her head against the wall or the floor.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced around the room like she didn’t know where she was and when her gaze landed on me, she bit her lip and her eyes filled with tears. “Did you say Purgatory?”

  “That’s what they said.”

  “What else did they say?”

  “They’re waging a war and they expect me to stay out of it, but I can’t. I need to figure out how to rescue my father and stop this war.”

  “How?” She sat up. “How in the world can you stop them?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I will.”

  Don’t Fear the Reaper

  Chapter 10

  After we got Gram settled, we headed back home and I disappeared into my room and booted up my computer, determined to figure anything that would give me a clue on how to stop a reaper. I knew facts would be thin to nothing, but maybe there would be an old wives’ tale or urban legend that had a grain of truth.

  My stomach rumbled and I glanced at the clock, blinking and rubbing my eyes at the flashing numbers. It was almost eight and my mom hadn’t called me down for dinner like she usually does. I swung the chair around and froze halfway to my feet. I had been so deep in the research that I never heard my mother come in. She left a tray with a ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, and a bag of chips along with my favorite soda on my bed a few feet away from my desk.

  I grabbed the sandwich and sat back in the chair, swiveling toward the computer with a sigh. I hadn’t found a thing online. It seemed that if the article didn’t have to do with music or gaming, then it rambled about religion. I took a bite of the sandwich and turned that over in my mind. Mid-chew I stopped and almost palmed my forehead.

  Religion.

  A priest. I should talk to a priest.

  I finished the rest of the sandwich in two bites and swiped the soda off the tray on my way out of my room. “Mom?” I yelled from the top of the stairs and descended into the well-lit family room where my mother was channel surfing.

  She muted the television and glanced at me. She raised an eyebrow, inviting me to continue.

  “I think I need to talk to Father Michael.”

  Both eyebrows arched. “Why?”

  “I think he might be able to help me.”

  My mother’s expression didn’t change, it remained frozen in perpetual surprise and I thought for a moment the world stopped spinning until she blinked and pressed her lips together. Her concerns were expressed in the thin line of her mouth and etched into the scrunch between her eyes, but more than that, I could almost hear the whisper of her thoughts.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him who my father is.”

  The lines smoothed, followed by an audible sigh of relief. “You really think he can help?”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t certain of anything, but it was better than spinning my wheels at the computer. “It’s gotta be better than just doing random Google searches.”

  “I have to work tonight, but you can give Father Michael a call if you’d like. If he isn’t available, we can stop in and see him tomorrow.”

  “Okay, but I’m supposed to go to the library with Julia tomorrow. Think we can talk to Father Michael before I go?”

  “Let me know if you get a hold of him. If not, I’ll give him a call first thing in the morning and see if we can swing by the rectory.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said and tried Father Michael while she got ready for work. All I got was the answering machine and I hung up without leaving a message. I’d try again later and instead, plopped myself on the couch. The minute I got settled in the soft cushions, my eyelids drooped heavy from the stress of the day. It didn’t take long before the lull of the television sucked me into another dream.

  Don’t Fear the Reaper

  Chapter 11

  I fidgeted in the chair in the rectory office while my mother spoke with Father Michael in the hallway. Their hushed whispers echoed against the marble and I waited for them to enter the room. My mother hung back in the hallway when Father Michael entered and she gave me that strained smile I knew too well. She wanted to make sure I kept my promise. She didn’t want me to reveal who my father was and I sent her a nod, letting her know I would keep silent. She sent a more natural smile my way and disappeared from the doorway to wait in the car.

  “Your mother said you’ve been having some adjustment issues since your teacher died. Did you want to talk about it?” Father Michael said. He crossed to the couch next to me and took a seat, his black robes billowing from his girth before they settled neatly around his rotund belly. Father Michael reminded me of Friar Tuck in the old Robin Hood movies, except instead of a brown frock, he wore black, making his white collar stand out like a beacon.

  I shrugged, keeping up the pretense that we had discussed. “I’ve been having nightmares about reapers lately,” I said, glad it wasn’t a lie. I’m not sure there would be enough Hail Mary’s to absolve me of that kind of sin and I hoped God would understand the partial truths and subterfuge I was about to lay on the kind priest.

  “Reapers?”

  “Yes and I was curious as to where they come from and why?”

  “Reapers are agents of death, son.”

  “I figured that much out, but do you know where they come from. Like where I can find them?”

  Father Michael leaned back into the fabric of the couch and folded his hands over his belly as he studied me, his face scrunched in contemplation. “Why would you want to find an agent of death?”

  “I saw one when Mr. Sanchez died.”

  Silence filled the room and Father Michael’s eyes narrowed as he studied me. “You saw a reaper?�
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  “Yes, sir.”

  “Usually, only those near the end can see death.”

  “It wasn’t death. It was a skeletal figure in a black robe. A reaper. And I was trying to revive Mr. Sanchez, so technically I was near death,” I said and I could tell my analogy confused him.

  “What was this figure doing?”

  “The reaper placed his hand on Mr. Sanchez’s head and then he died. I tried to save him, but I was too late.”

  Father Michael leaned forward. “Did you see anything else?”

  “No. One minute the reaper was there and Mr. Sanchez was alive and the next the reaper was gone and Mr. Sanchez was dead.” I could feel the impatience building in my belly, clawing at the walls of my skin just dying to break free.

  But I harnessed it, using the silence to focus on what had already been said.

  Those near the end.

  I blinked and almost laughed aloud. I now knew where to find reapers and I prayed when I found one, it wouldn’t be the nasty bastards from my Grandmother’s house. I prayed it would listen and would be able to help me stop the pending disaster.

  “So, no bright lights or dark tunnels?”

  “No. Sorry.” I could tell he wanted more just by the way he sat on the edge of the couch and the light of curiosity dancing in his eyes. “What do you know about Purgatory?” I asked, changing the subject and silencing the sudden flood of questions swarming in his head.

  He blinked rapidly as if I dropped the f-bomb or something and then his mouth opened and closed in indecision while his mind raced to catch up. Father Michael pressed his lips together and settled back on the couch. “Purgatory is neither Heaven nor Hell. It’s a plane in between, a waiting room of sorts.”

  “Are you sure it isn’t a part of Hell?”

  “I’ve got no reason to believe it is. Why do you ask?”

  I noodled on this for a moment before asking my next question, “Well, if Purgatory is the waiting room to Heaven or Hell, then wouldn’t both the Pearly Gates and the Gates of Hell actually be in Purgatory?”

  His eyebrows arched as he considered my question. “That’s an interesting deduction, and I don’t have a cut and dry answer for you.”

  “What about Leviathan?”

  A crease appeared between Father Michael’s eyes and I knew I had gone too far. “Nick, I believe you are deliberately changing subjects on me.”

  I bit my lip and dropped my gaze to my hands.

  “Death is a natural part of life, son.”

  My gaze snapped to his. “I know.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you.”

  He knew I was on a digging expedition, I could see it in his eyes and instead of dancing this fine line, I decided to hit him head on. “What would happen if a pair of reapers decided to go rogue? To, like, go off script.”

  My question left Father Michael speechless. His mouth even dropped open at the prospect and each time he went to answer, he reconsidered and shifted in the seat. Finally, he said, “That would be very bad.”

  “How would you stop them?”

  This question raised Father Michael’s eyebrows so they rivaled the McDonald’s arches and I had to put the nix on my sudden need to chuckle. He stood and crossed to the window with his hands clasped behind his back, contemplating.

  “Father Michael?”

  “Nick, I’m a little worried about this line of questioning,” he said and then silence blanketed the room.

  I waited until my nerve endings shouted for me to act. “Why?”

  He turned and stared at me. “This is much more serious than your mother led me to believe.”

  His train of thought broadcasted into my head like the static filled AM news channel that my mother listened to from time to time and I stiffened at the direction he was heading. “I’m not delusional Father Michael.” It was only after I spoke that I realized I was actually hearing what Father Michael was thinking. This new development sent tendrils of shock through my body and I missed what Father Michael asked.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?” I asked, hoping he’d repeat the question because the static in my head went silent.

  “I asked if I had been asking the type questions you are, what would you think?”

  I saw his point and laughed. “I would think the kid belonged in the nut house.”

  “See my predicament?”

  “Yes,” I said and leaned back into the cushion thinking this was a mistake.

  “But I have seen some strange things in my lifetime. Things that can’t be explained by logic or science, so I’m not discounting that you saw what you believed to be a reaper.”

  His admission caught me off guard and I stared at the portly priest, discounting my prior thoughts.

  “Are the reapers after you?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No,” I added.

  He crossed slowly to the couch, his brow creased in thought and when his gaze landed on me, I squirmed under the conflict I saw there. He sat and leaned forward so there were only a few inches of space between us. “I’ve heard plenty of tales in my lifetime, half of which were complete hoaxes, but not once has anyone asked me how to stop a reaper. You realize, you’re asking how to stop death, right?”

  “No. If your time is up, there’s nothing you can do to stop death. What I’m asking is how to stop a reaper gone rogue.”

  “How would you know if a reaper has gone rogue?”

  I couldn’t answer that question, at least not without ending up in a padded cell. “Let’s just say he did. How would someone stop him?”

  Father Michael sat back and rubbed his chin. “I don’t have an answer for you, Nick.”

  I offered a smile and a nod. “Well, thank you for talking to me today, but I promised my girlfriend we’d go to the library and work on our book reports.” I stood, not wanting to say anymore and I was a little disheartened to find that Father Michael had no answers, no nugget of information that would help stop the monsters.

  Don’t Fear the Reaper

  Chapter 12

  I stared out the window as my mother drove home. She didn’t ask any questions until she parked in the driveway, and then she turned in my direction and started the grand inquisition.

  “Stop, Mom!” I yelled after the fiftieth question fired my way.

  “What did Father Michael say?”

  “He doesn’t have a clue how to stop a rogue reaper. But he did give me an idea of where I can find a reaper,” I said and opened the door to escape the confines of the car.

  She grabbed my arm and I hesitated, looking back at her worried gaze. “Nick...”

  “Mom, I told you, I need to stop this war and the only way I can think of to stop them is to find an ally who knows something about reapers.”

  “There has to be another way,” she said.

  “I don’t think there is another way and if I don’t do anything, a lot of innocent people will die.” I finally said it out loud and the responsibility of the statement hit with the full force of a hurricane, I melted into the seat with the weight of it.

  “Nick, this isn’t your fight.”

  But it was and whether she liked it or not, I had to see it through. Instead of worrying her, I just nodded and slipped out of the car. While I wanted to just stick my head in the sand and forget about the last few days, I couldn’t.

  I glanced toward Julia’s house and she waved to me from her front porch. I sent her a wave and retrieved my backpack from the front hallway.

  “Mom, I’m heading over to Julia’s for a while, okay?” I announced and didn’t wait for the answer. I just took off, leaving her at the front door with thoughts of danger racing around in her mind.

  “Hey, Nick,” Julia smiled and stood as I approached her front steps. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded and dropped my bag on the stairs, pulling her to me in a warm hug. I closed my eyes and inhaled, losing myself in her sweet scent. Her body molded to mine, warming
the cold center of dread in my stomach.

  “Who was that at your house yesterday?”

  I stiffened in her arms and pulled away, avoiding her gaze. Instead, I looked at my house and shoved my hands in my pockets, unsure of how to answer her.

  “Did he have something to do with your Grandmother?”

  “No.” I shifted my weight and looked back at her. “Not directly,” I said and fidgeted, uncomfortable with the way she was studying me just waiting. Instead of answering, I picked up my bag. “You ready to head to the library?”

  “Nick.”

  I turned back to her. “What?”

  “He scared me,” she whispered.

  The innocence of that comment made me smile. Death should scare her, he had no right to be around such a beautiful girl. “I know. You ran out of the house like it was on fire.”

  She smacked my arm and the humor lit up her eyes. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

  “Ayup.” I grinned at her and hooked my arm around her waist, leading her down the walkway.

  We made it halfway to the library before she asked again. “Seriously, who was that man?”

  I sighed. “That was my father.”

  Julia stopped. “Your what?”

  “Turns out my father is alive and well and he decided to pay us a visit,” I said and kept walking, afraid of actually seeing her reaction. It took a moment before her hand grabbed the crook of my arm, yanking me around to face her. Shock outlined her wide eyes underlined by a subtle shade of fear and I offered up a smile I was sure would just stoke those fires.

  “Your father is alive?”

  Debatable, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud, instead I nodded.

  “He smells like a fire.”

  Reverting to all the stories I was told growing up, I shrugged. “He was a firefighter. My mom told me he died when the World Trade Center collapsed.” He and his entire unit perished when the North tower fell and now I wondered how much of that was true or whether he was there to shepherd them to whatever comes next after your heart stops beating.