Death Wish

by Lindsey Menges

  The Costuming Department at headquarters had a lot of fun with the wings. They wanted them to look real, like I was an actual angel come to Earth to bring my client to Heaven. So instead of using some sort of contraption with gears and pulleys, they surgically grafted the joints of the feathery appendages to my shoulder blades—for anyone who didn’t know better, it actually looked like I had wings. They had warned me that it would hurt somewhat when he ripped the wings off.

  If they had known what he was going to do, they wouldn’t have used the word “somewhat”.

  The wings felt strange and foreign on my back, and their presence threw off my balance. I did my best to practice walking with them, but the Wish took place so quickly after the surgery that I was still shaky when I showed up. I walked into the warehouse, doing my best to look like I was floating, and spoke the words that were written in the file’s script.

  “Mr. Jackson,” I called out into the darkness of the warehouse. The only shaft of light in the space came through a hole in the ceiling, which illuminated a spot in the center of the floor. It was into this spot that my client, Alfred Jackson, stepped. I gave him my most angelic smile and walked over, spreading my arms as if preparing to embrace him.

  “Alfred,” I said, letting love and acceptance caress my voice. “It is time to leave this sullied world behind. Come with me into the light.”

  He remained rooted to the spot, as he’d said he would, and I moved forward again, as I was supposed to.

  “Alfred,” I cooed, feeling my nerves abate as I became more confident. “Come with me. It’s time to leave your mortal shell.”

  He started laughing, and my smile faltered. It wasn’t a laugh of joy, or a laugh that comes from relief. It was a laugh of desperation, and malice, and excitement for something evil to come.

  “I’m not coming with you, false angel,” he said, a too-wide grin spreading across his features. “But you are coming with me.”

  Before I could respond, he darted forward and knocked me to the ground. An oomph escaped me when my head slammed against the ground, and before I knew what was happening he had flipped me over and was straddling my back.

  I began crying and screaming, but he continued laughing. I had no idea what to expect, but when the knife bit into my skin I knew instantly what was coming.

  The costume crew told me that it would hurt when the grafting came off. It did, but my mentor always warned me that some Wishes would involve pain. I hadn’t gone through it yet, but the knowledge made me believe that I could handle it.

  What I couldn’t handle was when the knife kept digging into my back.

  The metal bit into my skin over and over, severing muscles and veins and then severing them again as they tried to heal. The wings the Costume Department had spent so many hours crafting lay in the dirt, discarded and dirtied. Some of the feathers still drifted around my head, and those were what kept drawing my eyes while I screamed.

  I later learned from some of the people who worked in the Clerical Department that when Alfred Jackson had submitted his Wish request, he had seemed a bit off. It turned out that he suffered from severe hallucinations, and when I came to the warehouse in my costume he thought I actually was an angel of death.

  And, even when the costume wings came off, he kept digging the knife up and down my back to get rid of the wings he thought were still there.

  High-pitched, agonized screams kept pouring out of my mouth just as relentlessly as my blood spilled on the floor. I struggled to get out from under my client, and even though any movement sent trails of fire across my skin, there was so much adrenaline coursing through me that I was able to block out the pain. I finally succeeded in throwing him off of me, and the knife got knocked out of his grip. I dove for it before he had the chance, but in my hysteria I grabbed the knife by the blade. The metal bit deep into my skin and I dropped it with a hiss of pain. But I picked it up again with my uninjured hand—by the handle this time—and shoved it into the center of his forehead with an ear-shattering scream.

  His eyes widened in shock. This was not part of his Wish. The blade pushed through his skull and the maniacal grin on his face slowly slid away. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slipped into unconsciousness, the presence of the knife preventing his Chip from fully healing the wound. I fell back to the ground in relief when he passed out. Panicked gasps still tore themselves from my chest, and tears continued streaming down my face.

  My Life Chip went into overdrive, trying to heal the still-bleeding wounds on my back.

  *

  “What happened after that?”

  Robin’s voice is hushed when I finish my tale.

  “Fortunately, my mentor had been nearby because she was worried about me. She came in, extracted the client’s Life Chip, and called the cleanup crew while she took me back to Headquarters.” My voice is dead, monotone. I recite the story like it happened to someone else, not like the evidence of my story is plastered across my back in toughened scar tissue.

  Robin is silent. I cross my arm over my chest to brush the top of my back with my fingers. It happened so many years ago, but the old memories of fear and pain still well up when I tell the story.

  “Why, um… Why are the scars still there?”

  Robin’s question is hesitant. I look down at her with a blank stare and she elaborates.

  “I mean, they should have gone away, right? No matter how bad the injury is, as long as you go to your doctor’s appointment it will be fixed. So why are your scars still there?”

  I nod. “They are supposed to go away, and they would have if I had let the Surgeons complete a new skin graft over the damaged cells.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  I drop my hand from my shoulder to slip it into my pocket. I run my other hand through my hair and look off into the distance.

  “It was actually because of something another Godmother said to me. After the Surgeons had done the initial patch-up work, I had been crying in my office. This Godmother—her name was Ashley—came in to talk to me. She was comforting me, and while she was talking she said something that stuck with me.”

  “What was it?” Robin is staring at me with undivided attention.

  I exhale, pushing down the fear and panic that always accompany thoughts of my third Death Wish. “She said, ‘I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I can promise you that you will come back from this’. So that’s why I asked that they not fix the scars. I wanted to remember that, no matter how horrifying things in my job got, I would always rise above it in the end. That nothing, not even these scars on my back, could keep me down for long.”

  Robin stares at me, and after I few seconds I look away self-consciously. But then she places her hand on my shoulder and, in a voice trembling with anger, says:

  “We will take down the Life Chips, Eliza. And when we do, no more Godparents will have to suffer like you did. That’s my promise to you.”

  Wish 23

  “Good morning, Eliza and Robin!”

  Albert waves at us from down the hall. I wave hello before ducking into my office with Robin. I move over to my desk and grab a light gray cardigan that’s draped around the back of my chair.

  “I don’t feel like repeating that story to anyone else,” I explain. Robin nods understandingly.

  “Knock knock,” says a voice, and I turn around. Harrison grins at me from the door. I wave him in, and he wraps one arm around me to give me a kiss while setting a to-go tray on the desk. “Morning, ladies,” he says, greeting me and my protégé, and hands us both cups from the tray. “I come bearing coffee.” He winks at me before giving Robin a smile. “How are you, Robin?”

  “Oh, heh, I’m doing well,” Robin replies, rubbing one hand behind her neck nervously. I forgot that she uses her shy personality when working undercover. It jars me to realize that I know she’s lying while Harrison has no idea. But I have to act normally so he doesn’t suspect anything. I take a sip of coffee and smile at hi
m.

  “So Robin did a great job with her first solo Wish,” I say, and when she isn’t looking I wink at Harrison over the rim of my cup. He gives me a quick nod, remembering my suggestion to make her feel like a part of the family, before smiling at Robin.

  “Did you really?” He looks excited. “That’s great! Well, with Eliza helping you, there’s no way you were going to be anything but amazing.”

  Robin laughs softly and blushes. “She is a great teacher,” she agrees, and looks at me while saying, “I’m learning a lot from her.” She smiles at me. It’s genuine, not faked.

  After finishing our coffees with a few more minutes of small talk, the three of us start making our way to the Clerical Department to pick up any new Wish assignments we may have.

  The Clerical Department is beautiful. It’s the first area you walk into when entering the Fairy Godparent building, and they put all of their best decorators into its design. There are no walls; instead, there are huge, floor-to-ceiling windows that let daylight stream into the area. Beautiful, rich green plants mark the corners, and behind the front desk at the center of the room is a man-made waterfall. Water cascades down a pillar of black granite from the ceiling into an elegant pool that’s filled with fat orange goldfish. It is in this area that people who want to die come to request, submit, and schedule their Death Wishes. Everything about the room is peaceful, tranquil, and designed to relax the client. It’s as if the room says Come in, you are welcomed. We will make your last moments the happiest you’ve ever experienced.

  Future clients come in through the main entrance, but the Godparents who are assigned their Wishes come in through a back entrance. This way, the clients only think about their final Wish, not about the people who will be forced to carry it out.

  Whoa. Forced? Robin’s rubbing off on me more than I realized.

  We walk through this back entrance now and head over to Roger, one of the receptionists, who sits at a station behind the enormous fountain. But before we can pick up any new assignments we may have, our attention is caught by an argument going on a few feet away.

  “I don’t care if it’s not your job, you idiot,” a woman in a lab coat says menacingly to a man trembling in front of her, “I need those files delivered to me! Or do you not care if another innocent couple dies without submitting Death Wishes? Because that very well could happen if I don’t get the report on the Smiths’ Life Chips!”

  The woman looks up while the man she’s talking with stammers apologies, and when she makes eye contact with our group I realize that it’s Doctor Sloan. She tries to wave me over. I look left and right. Harrison shrugs his shoulders, and I point to myself as if to say Who, me? She lets out an annoyed huff and hurries over.

  “No, I meant the other Amazon Godmother with silver and blue hair. Yes, of course I mean you!”

  Her voice is harsh and angry, and I remember that we aren’t supposed to know each other. I do my best to look confused, which isn’t very hard—I have no idea what’s going on.

  “I’m tired of dealing with this incompetent moron,” she continues, shoving a piece of paper at my chest. I stumble back before grabbing it. “I am Doctor Harriet Sloan, and I am trying to get to the bottom of the deaths of Joel and Beverly Smith. Apparently no one in my department cares enough to give me the files I need to research this, so I’m giving you the assignment.”

  She points to the piece of paper I’m clutching in my hand, and I unfold it. Alli and James Schumacher, Engineering Branch, Office 3B is all it says on its surface. The irate Surgeon explains.

  “Go to these two, tell them Doctor Sloan sent you to pick up some files, and deliver them to me as soon as you can. Or is that too much information for you to handle, Miss Godmother?” She somehow manages to look at me condescendingly, even though she has to crane her neck to meet my eyes.

  “Hey,” interjects Harrison, his voice buzzing with anger. “I don’t know where you get off, but this lady is one of the top Godparents in our organization, not your personal messenger. And I—”

  “You,” interrupts Sloan, staring him down menacingly, “do not get to lecture me. This is slightly more important than trying to impress your lady friend with your heroics.”

  I place my hand on Harrison’s shoulder before he spits out an annoyed retort. “Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. I’ll go get the file and meet you guys later. It’s easy enough. Besides, this is really important.”

  He looks up at me, relaxes, and claps his hand over the one I have on his shoulder.

  “Alright, Elly. But you, Doctor Sloan,” he admonishes, wagging a finger disapprovingly, “remember that a ‘please’ could work wonders next time.” He turns to Robin, who hasn’t said a word throughout the entire exchange. “Come on, Robin. Looks like I’m your chaperone for the time being.”

  He gives my hand a squeeze, gestures for Robin to move ahead of him, and they walk away. I wait until they’re out of earshot before turning to Sloan.

  “You know, he is right. Manners get results,” I say with a smirk.

  “Just get the file for me,” she says. But then under her breath she adds, “I’ve gotten you a reason to go to the Engineering Department. Try to find out what you can.”

  She gives me a quick smile before walking away. Just before she disappears around the corner, she calls out “And please don’t screw it up like everyone else around here has.”

  *

  The Engineering offices are in the building next to Fairy Godparents Headquarters. While the exterior of the Godparent building is all about beauty and stunning glamour, with black marble walls and silver-rimmed windows, the Engineering building is much more simple and subdued. It is shorter than the Godparent building, only three stories tall, and is constructed from generic red brick and white mortar. Trails of ivy grow up one side of the building, and the overall look of the structure creates the image of a quiet house of learning.

  I walk over, wrapping my cardigan tighter across my body. There is a definite late-autumn chill in the air, and I’m sure that winter will be waking from its slumber in the next few weeks. I hurry across the cobblestone walkway connecting the Godparent building to the Engineering one and pull open the doors to walk inside. I head over to a nearby receptionist. The greeting room in the Engineering building is nowhere near as lavish as the Godparent one. The walls are painted in simple brown tones, and the desk that the receptionist sits behind is about a third the size of the one for the clerical workers in my building. Then again, I suppose that this division of the Security branch don’t have anyone to impress.

  The receptionist looks up in surprise—I doubt she gets many visitors here. I greet her, say that I’m looking for the Schumachers, and with a nod she directs me to a staircase nearby.

  “Third floor, second lab on the left. You can’t miss it.”

  I thank her and head to the stairs. Once I reach the third floor, I find Lab 3B and look inside.

  My first thought is that a tornado must have blown through this room. Various pieces of electrical equipment, soldering tools, and the like lie across every available surface. A row of filing cabinets dominate one corner, and a ridiculous amount of papers are strewn haphazardly around the room. Organization must not be a priority for these researchers.

  “Excuse me?” I rap my knuckles against the open door. “I was sent by Doctor Sloan to pick up some files. Is anyone here?”

  There’s a crash behind the nearby cabinets, accompanied by some cries of “Wait, wait!” and “Coming! Just a second!”

  Moments later, two Engineers emerge from behind the partition and walk over. They are clearly twins—the only difference between them is gender. They each have a shock of dark brown hair framing their faces, a light spattering of freckles across their noses, olive colored skin, and brilliantly white smiles. The girl of the duo steps forward and grabs my hand to shake it.

  “Hello!” She enthusiastically pumps my arm up and down. “It’s so nice to meet you! My name’s Alli, and this is my b
rother, James.”

  “Hello,” says James, waving to me from behind his sister. “Sorry, we don’t get a lot of visitors so she gets excited when newcomers arrive.”

  The sister, Alli, smacks his arm with a grin. “Oh shut up,” she teases, “I’m just personable! Now then,” she says, clasping her hands together and turning to me, “what is your name? And how can we help you?”

  I smile. The twins remind me of excitable puppies. “My name’s Eliza Hayworth, and I’m a Godmother from the Fairy Godparent division. Doctor Sloan from the Surgical division sent me to pick up some files.”

  “Oh, yes, of course!” Alli turns around to rummage in a desk drawer. Her speech turns stilted while she tries to look for the files and continue talking. “She… requested… the information about the Life Chips… of Joel and Beverly Smith. Ah, here it is,” she announces proudly, turning back to hand me a thin accordion folder. “This is everything we learned from examining the Chips,” she explains. I take it from her and tuck it safely in the crook of my arm.

  “Great, I’ll be sure to give these to her as soon as possible,” I say. I glance at the file, and look back up at Alli, who is smiling happily.

  Huh. Doctor Sloane said to integrate myself with some Engineers, and these two look like they could be a wealth of information. Could they become my source for Chip information? It’s certainly worth a shot. I instantly change my demeanor from polite aloofness to friendly warmth. I give the twins my most dazzling smile and lean against the desk behind me.

  “So,” I say sweetly, “you two don’t get many visitors up here?”

  James shakes his head. He and his sister sit down on two nearby stools, imitating my relaxed position. “No. All we work on is Chip stuff, and there’s not a lot of interaction between us and other Security Branch divisions. Heck, the only reason Alli and I are together all the time is because we happen to work on the same type of hardware for the Chips.”