I harrumphed and sat on the gymnasium floor. Getting my tennis-shoed foot through the leg hole proved to be more difficult than the obstacle course. “What the heck.” The orange mesh caught on the treads of my shoe, not allowing me to shove my foot through or remove it. “I can’t…it’s wrapped around my toe.” I jammed my foot downward into the wall of mesh. That only succeeded in reinjuring my already sore ankle. After a few seconds, I gave a battle cry of fury and kicked my leg, trying to dislodge the jumpsuit. “Stupid firkin’ farkin’ piece of crap.”
Though the f-bomb rarely passed my lips, I’m not averse to connecting as many like-sounding F-words as I can when I get frustrated. Nate’s brows lifted as I continued muttering a string of F alternatives.
He let me struggled for another minute before he knelt and grabbed my foot, which I beat against the floor. “Stop.” He had my ankle in a vise grip, so I didn’t have any choice but to do as he said. “Next time take your shoe off first.”
“Next time?” I pointed and shook a finger at him. “There’s not going to be a next time.”
“Then…” He tugged the jumpsuit from my foot. “I suggest you don’t fail.”
That was the best incentive he could have given me. No way did I want to endure another round of making a fool of myself—at least not here. My klutzy nature ensured I’d screw up at some point, but I wouldn’t invite humiliation if I could help it. “Oh, I won’t fail.”
I yanked off my shoes and snatched the jumpsuit from Nate. Not only would I not fail, I’d kick this course’s ass and call it girl names when I was finished. I stood and wiggled into the mesh. Though the jumpsuit was snug in places, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Probably better tight than loose. That way I wouldn’t get hung up anywhere. At least that was my hope.
After putting on my shoes, I stood. “Now what?”
Nate handed me the pillow person. It was heavier than I thought it would be, but nothing I couldn’t carry.
“You must keep control of the soul at all times.” He gripped my forearm and pointed to my wrist. “There’s Velcro here.” His fingers moved to press between my boobs. “And here.”
A flurry of butterflies erupted in my stomach again, but he seemed oblivious to my reaction, or the fact that as co-workers he touched me inappropriately. I simply nodded, keeping my gaze pinned to his. “Gotcha.”
When he lowered his hand, I cradled the pillow person, hugging it to me. Chest to chest, the Velcro connected. I let go and the pillow stuck. I did a few jumping jacks, but it didn’t fall off. This would be easy. I didn’t even have to hold onto it, leaving my hands free to climb and grip. A thought popped into my head. “Why the chest?”
“What do you mean?”
The rip of Velcro being peeled apart sounded as I pulled the pillow away from me. “I get sticking it to the wrists. It requires me to hold on, just like I did with Leroy Badder. But why at the chest?”
“If you embrace a soul and hold it against you, it will remain stuck. Like a heart-to-heart connection.”
I scrunched my face, remembering how Leroy Badder’s soul had cut though me like an icy blade, and I’d only touched him with my hands. “Ick.”
“Not all souls are as nasty as Badder,” Nate said, seeming to read my thoughts. “Most of your charges won’t possess the dark aura or violent feel.”
A shiver skittered up my spine. “Still.” I shifted the pillow and connected it to the Velcro at my wrist. “I will never willingly do that.”
He shrugged and checked his watch. “Your choice. We need to get started.”
A sigh heaved from me and I murmured some incoherent objection that sounded a lot like Yosemite Sam.
I took my place at the yellow line on the track. To make sure I didn’t drop the pillow during my run I gripped its mitten-shaped hand. And that was exactly the way I’d planned handling all my souls. The less contact the better.
“Whenever you’re ready. Take all the time you need.”
Since I wasn’t being timed, I started out with a slow jog. This was going to be easy. Without the pressure of beating the clock I could finish this course in my own sweet time. As I rounded the first bend a loud scraping echoed through the gym. I glanced back up the track at Nate. He was moving what looked like a metal doorframe across the end of my lane, but I couldn’t see exactly what it was. My good mood dipped. I knew simply running the course again would have been too easy.
I continued to watch him move from obstacle to obstacle. More scraping along the floor ricocheted around the gym as he pushed the springboard away from the pommel horse.
“Son-of-a…” I bit down the curse, realizing I’d have to climb over the apparatus instead of ungracefully springing over it.
At each obstacle he added a new hindrance. I swallowed down my complaint and focused on the track ahead of me. Already I was out of breath and beginning to perspire. The pillow swished along the floor beside me. With each step it seemed to grow a little heavier. I really needed to dust off my treadmill and start working out.
My jog slowed and I stopped in front of the metal barricade. It was a turnstile on wheels, like something I’d see at airport security. Except this barrier was only about five feet high. The logical thing would be to connect the pillow to my chest, duck, and push past the metal bar, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was the principle of the matter. I understood the pillow was just a metaphorical soul, and wouldn’t give me the sickening sensation Badder had—at least that’s what I assumed. But I’d been naïve, taking Nate at his word. I thought I just had to run the course. Now here he was throwing up more obstacles. Any trust I’d had vanished, that included believing the pillow was just a pillow.
I eyed the barricade. Fine, I’d drag my burden through after me. Dipping my head, I walked forward and pushed against the bar blocking my way. At first it didn’t give, so I leaned against it with all my weight. The bar rotated so fast I fell forward, but not before another bar snapped up and nailed me in the back. I gasped for air and stumbled. The pillow caught on the other side, nearly yanking my arm out of the socket.
“You and the soul must get through the turnstile.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I mumbled under my breath. I tugged on the pillow, but one of the hands had lodged at the juncture of the rotating wheel. “Come on.” I jerked on the material, but when ripping sounded, I froze. What would that mean if this were an actual soul? Would only part of the spirit get transported, leaving little bits of the soul stuck in different places like the subway or an electric can opener? “Shit.”
I bent and peered into the cog of the turnstile. The fabric had hooked on a spring. I jiggled the bar, trying to maneuver it so I could slide the fabric free. Nothing budged. I poked my finger inside and pushed on the bar again. Pain shot through the tip of my finger. I gasped and yanked my hand free. A good size blood blister rose from the pad and instinctively shoved my finger into my mouth and sucked. I’m not sure why. It didn’t ease the pain and actually caused the throbbing to intensify. I pulled my finger free and shook it wildly. Again, a stupid move, but I was pissed. I jerked the pillow as hard as I could.
More ripping, and the fabric sprang free—minus one thumb. “Sorry.” I grimaced and poked the stuffing back into the hole where the thumb used to be. “Maybe you don’t need fingers in Heaven.”
I glanced up. Nate stared at me from across the gym but didn’t say anything. I tucked the pillow under my arm and jogged toward the pommel horse. Half way across the floor, I stopped. “What the hell?”
“It’s barbed wire.” Nate walked toward me. “Get down and crawl through.”
What was this, a war zone? “You’re joking?”
“No. It’s meant to simulate difficult terrain.”
I propped one hand on my hip and let the other hang at my side, still gripping the pillow soul. “This is Alaska, not Afghanistan.”
“You never know where you’ll be assigned.” He scribbled a quick note on the clipboard. “But we can stop and run
the course again tomorrow if you want.”
I straightened. “No way. I’m doing this now.”
Despite my opinion about the ridiculously stupid course, I was big enough to admit that many times in my life I hadn’t seen the big picture. And since I knew little to nothing about actual fieldwork as a reaper, I was willing to give Nate the benefit of the doubt.
Logic dictated I Velcro the pillow to my chest. Unfortunately my stubbornness usually kicked logic’s ass when push came to shove. Hunkering down like I’d seen in war movies, I shimmied my body forward, dragging the pillow beside me.
The opening narrowed. What the heck? Did GRS have something against rubenesque women? Ropes of pointy wire crisscrossed above me, leaving only a few feet for me to maneuver. About a yard in the pillow snagged on a barb. Feeling the doll had given enough when it sacrificed its thumb, I wiggled backward and detached it. Again I moved forward and again it snagged. He cleared his throat with the kind of sound that covered a laugh. Bastard.
There was no way I was getting through this without shredding the pillow. Drastic measures were in order. Coming to the decision I’d rather suffer the sticky feel of a soul than Nate’s condescending attitude, I shoved the pillow under me. The Velcro pads fused.
Though a little awkward, the pillow made moving a whole lot easier. Instead of shimmying, I was able to push my body forward, and slide along the polished floor. Even though the muscles in my arms quivered like a frightened Chihuahua, I felt pretty smug by the time I reached the end of the barbed wire enclosure.
I struggled to my feet, ungracefully clawed my way over the vault, and then shuffled to the wall of ropes. The doll bounced against me, its head bopping mine every time I took a step. I pushed it to the side but the pillow rebounded back and blocked my view. I grabbed the soft head and shoved it against my neck, clamping down with my chin. That did the trick.
The rope wall spread out and up. My arm shook when I raised it to grasp the rope above my head. Stepping onto the lowest rung, I began my climb, making sure to keep all the weight on my legs. The trek was slow but I progressed nonetheless. Like I said, I would not fail. I sent up a silent “Thanks” when I reached the top. Nothing out of the norm had happened. Nobody dumped oil on me from above, or let loose a swarm of spider monkeys to attack me.
I turned my head to see where the ledge was located. The head of the pillow sprang free from my grip. “Crap.” I stretched my neck, trying to contain it again, but couldn’t reach. “Stupid—thing.”
In such a precarious position I couldn’t flatten myself against the wall to get ahold of the pillow’s head. Each attempt caused my arms to shake. The possibility of tumbling to the ground became a very real threat.
Abandoning my efforts, I looked over my shoulder and extended my leg along the ledge. Nate hadn’t climbed the rope ladder when sabotaging the course, so I hoped there were no hidden surprises for me on the narrow ledge. I shifted my weight and using the handle on the scaffolding again, eased onto the platform. Unlike the first run I couldn’t hunker down. There was a big frickin’ pillow in my way. But neither could I see around it. Again I crammed the stuffed head under my chin.
Inch by inch, I scooted along the wood, feeling my way with the toe of my shoe. Luckily there were no pitfalls. The rope hung in front of me, taunting me to grab it. Learning my lesson during my last run, I snaked it with my hand and wrapped the rope around my foot. I’d seen it done on TV, so I knew it had to work. Relief washed through me when I didn’t zip to the bottom of the line.
Though awkward with the pillow attached to my chest. I slid down without injuring myself, and hopped onto the trampoline.
At this point the pillow became a growing hindrance. Sure it might break the fall if I missed the next trampoline, but it was tough keeping my balance. I yanked the pillow off my chest and attached it to my wrist again. Bounce-bounce, and I landed on the smaller trampoline.
The end was in sight. Only three balance beams and a trip around the track. I jumped down and mounted the first beam. The deep roar of a motor revved and suddenly a blast of air hit me from the right side, almost pushing me off. My body tilted to the left and my foot lifted.
“Ahhh!” I did one of those tottering will she or won’t she fall stances. The wind cut off my breath.
Coherent words were impossible. The arm opposite my lifted foot shot out in an effort to not fall. It was only a about a yard drop, but to me it might as well have been a cliff. I hovered, my body splayed like a five-pointed star. The pillow lifted and I knew I was going over. Reaching deep, I dipped into the ninja skills lurking inside me, and lowered my foot to the balance beam. Thank God for ample hips. I shoved it into the wind, which brought me fully onto my narrow perch. Now balanced, I yanked the pillow to me and slammed it against my chest. Looking to my right I saw Nate standing next to a fan. The thing was ginormous. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Probably because I hadn’t suspected treachery.
Refocusing on my course, I tucked the pillow head under my chin once again and scooted along the beam. At the end, I jumped down and mounted the next. The wind continued to batter me but I was too determined. At this point it could have been a fiery tornado and I wouldn’t have fallen.
When I made it to the end of the last balance beam the wind stopped and the roar of the fan died. I didn’t look at Nate. I was too close to conquering this mutha of an obstacle course. Jogging forward, I tensed, ready for anything he threw at me. But nothing happened. And when I crossed the finish line, Nate stood waiting with a genuine look of surprise, and might I say admiration on his face.
I stopped in front of him and dropped the pillow, glaring at him. “Can’t handle being a reaper, eh? Well suck it, Cramer. Looks like you’ve got a new partner.”
With that I strode across the gym to the locker room. Yeah, there was a new angel of death in town.
Chapter 11
By six o’clock that night all my righteous indignation had evaporated into a mass of bruises, rope burns, and pulled muscles. A long, cylindrical black and blue patch stretched across my lower back where the turnstile had smacked me. And trying to remove my sports bra had turned into a painful wrestling match that left me lying on the bed, whimpering and defeated.
“Vella!” For once I was grateful for her casual attitude on dropping by at all hours of the day. “I need help.” At that point I had no pride. All I wanted was a hot shower and if that meant exposing myself to my best friend, well, so be it. “Vella!”
The door to my bedroom sprung open. “What’s wrong?”
I wiggled the arm I’d gotten free from the spandex torture. “Help.”
“Oh my giddy aunt.” She closed the door and walked to the bed. “What happened?”
“I can’t get out of my bra.”
“I can see that. I mean where did you get all those bruises? You look worse than I did after the greased pig catching contest at the fair.”
“I had to run the obstacle course today. Special stress on obstacle.” I rolled to my back, one arm still pinned to the side of my head. “Everything hurts.”
“Can you sit up?”
I rocked forward a couple of times, but the muscles in my stomach lit off a loud protest. “No.”
“How about rolling to your side?”
“Noooo.”
Vella propped a hand on her hip. “Can you lift both arms over your head?”
“Think of me as a vegetable. I am incapable of movement and thought at this point.”
“All right.” Vella held out her arms with her palms facing me. This meant she had an idea. Whether it would cause me excruciating pain was still to be seen. “I’m going to help you sit up. Then I’m going to work that sports contraption off you.”
“K.”
“I apologize right now if I happen to touch your boobs. Copping a feel is not my intention.”
My boobs had seen a lot of action lately. Too bad none of it was of an amorous nature. “Noted.”
After climbing onto
the bed, she shoved her hands under my shoulders and hefted me into a sitting position. My groan morphed into a long moan. Each stomach muscle tightened and protested. Who knew I had so many muscles. From the pain radiating through me I swore I’d been born with twice the amount.
“I’m too young to be in this much agony.” Another whimper squeezed from me. I’m not a very good patient. Kind of whiny.
“You need a long hot shower and an adult beverage to relax your muscles.” Vella forced my arm down and through the chest band of the sports bra, popping me free from the spandex jail. With a quick swoosh, she yanked the garment off of me. Even my bra flab hurt. “Now lay back.”
I tried to ease myself back but my quivering muscles were having none of it. I hit the bed like a falling boulder and bounced a few times. Vella climbed off the mattress and lifted my leg, extracting the running shoe. I lay there, bare breasted, unable to manage a modest arm across my chest.
“Lift your butt so I can get your pants off.”
Right. Like that was going to happen. When I didn’t move, she shook her head and yanked my yoga pants, dragging my undies with them. Okay, I wasn’t hurting that much. I curled my fingers around their elastic waistband and held on. It had been a long time since anybody had seen me naked and if it was going to happen again, I didn’t want it to be with my best friend.
A final tug and I was free from all my stretchy workout clothes. With great effort, I rolled to my side and pushed myself up. “You’re a good friend.”
“I know.” Vella tossed the pile of clothes into my laundry basket, and then looked at me. She cocked her head. “For having three kids you’ve got some nice tits.”
“As much as I appreciate the compliment, I don’t want to talk about my boobs with you.”
“I’m just saying, a lot of women don’t keep their perk. You’re lucky.”
Ignoring her, I pointed to my open closet. “Robe, please.”
She lifted my fluffy white robe from the hook and draped it over her arm. Then she held out her hands. “Up you go.”
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