Grim

by Gavin McCallion

  If Tom wasn't a run-of-the-mill ranting, drunk lunatic covered in blood who wandered into the police on a Friday night, then Inspector Harris had a duty to follow it up.

  Worst case scenario, he got to hit Tom back, and that sounded okay.

  He got a hold of a squad car, blared the sirens and sped through The Whirl.

  He followed the trail of destruction Derek left in his wake. Occasionally, he stopped and asked for information on either car, and it directed him to Alisonhill.

  As a safe and sober driver in a decent car, he made startling progress up the hill. He might've caught Derek, who took two runs at every corner, had he taken the right path.

  Halfway up, the road split.

  One way took him further up and through the woods to Rabbit Manor - a property which belonged to the island's Judge. To Inspector Harris, Judge Rabbit was a decent fellow, well within the confines of the law, and he didn't see any reason Derek and Tom would be racing towards that particular property. The other way followed a trail around the woods and up into the Alisonhill housing estate.

  Officer Harris took the wrong path.

  A few minutes later, he noted a lack of destruction around the endless terraced houses and didn't know how he lost his way.

  Following the edges of the woods, he searched for any glaring clues to say Tom and Derek had been through here.

  It could've been a knackered tree, it could've been a bumper that had fallen off Tom's car - anything.

  What he got instead was neither of the above.

  Four kids in evening-wear erupted from the woods, screaming for help.

  ~

  Forty-Eight

  The Assumed Reversibility of Death

  The lobby was full of the important-looking pricks I'd been playing for earlier. They'd been gathered beneath the walkway and appeared to be congratulating each other on... I dunno, life I guess. They were doing alright for themselves.

  I was at Grim's heels, and I had no idea who he was looking for. Grim and all his limbs bundled down the stairs in the lobby with purpose. I kind of drifted behind him.

  In amongst all those well-dressed people, The Reaper of Wilson’s Well and a ghost stuck out like a sore thumb.

  We shuffled through them. Each set of judgemental eyes in spectacular-but-not-really clothing narrowed at him as he passed.

  One gentleman (in a rainbow kilt and bowler hat) stopped him. 'Someone to see tonight, friend?'

  'S-sorry, yes. I do,' Grim replied, pushing past.

  The gentleman was affronted by Grim's lack of manners, but then he saw me.

  Oh, Grim made people curious, but the sight of a ghost was something different. As I passed through, I created a Mexican wave of gasps.

  I tried to play my existence down. 'Hey all... yep, don't worry about me... yes I'm the drummer from earlier, and now I'm dead... Yeah, he should be sending me, it's complicated. I think.'

  Suddenly, Grim burst forward. He lunged out ahead of the wave of silence and grabbed someone's shoulder.

  Only when he turned did I recognise him: David, ugly man-bag and all.

  Grim spun him around and his drink sloshed everywhere. 'Hey!' he said, standing back from the spill. 'Watch what you're-' he recognised Grim '- ah shit.'

  Grim swung a punch.

  It was the goofiest punch I've ever seen. He looked like an action figure that only moved at the waist. He positioned his fist at shoulder height, level with his elbow, level with his shoulder, and swung in from the hips, colliding with David's face.

  The punch wasn't bad at all, considering.

  David went down, throwing his glass.

  'WHOOSH!' I cried, jamming my fists into the air.

  'Oh dear!' Grim gripped his gloved hand. 'That hurt!'

  'Don't be that cliché man, be cool.'

  Like a playground fight, this party of grown-up people gathered around.

  David sat up, watching them circle.

  Grim jabbed a finger down towards him. 'Hey you!' A solid start to any threat. 'You bring this girl back to life, right now.'

  'What?' David replied, checking his teeth.

  'Yes, that's right, you bring her back to life right now, or I'll show you how the pancakes are made.'

  'Speak sense, man.'

  'You batter them, I hear. I'll batter you.'

  David made motions suggesting he might push himself to his feet, so Grim panicked. In that panic, he grabbed a wine bottle off one of the server's trays and swung for David's skull. 'Hyah!'

  The Writer let his arm fall out from under him and lay flat on his back once more.

  The bottle barely missed his face.

  The crowd collectively gasped, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

  'Stay down! I need you to write her back to life! Cora Quinn! Write Cora Quinn back to life! The book!' He jabbed the bottle at the man-bag over his shoulder. 'Use the book, write her back!'

  'What in the hells is this?' a voice announced from deep in the crowd.

  We turned around as a woman dressed all in red emerged. Red hair, red suit, red heels. Her voice had a practised ball-busting-bitch way about it. She snarled at the scene before her, but mostly at me.

  I smiled meekly. 'Hey.'

  'They killed her!' Grim screamed.

  I waved at the crowd, still smiling like an idiot. 'Hi...'

  The woman in red spoke in solid, stern tones. 'I'm certain someone did kill her, but I'm assuming you know the rules, do you not? Dead is dead.'

  'No! The writer!' Again, Grim waved the bottle in David's face. 'He made it happen, he wrote it tonight. He wrote it five seconds before it happened!'

  'He did,' I spoke up, raising my hand. 'Judge moustache shot me. If my word's worth anything.'

  'And now he's going to write her back! Or I'll kill him! I'll kill him right here!'

  And then we heard him. He spoke from above us, from the GRAND OVERPASS, where he planned to make his speech. Judge, fucking, Rabbit. 'Just what is your plan here, boy?'

  A room full of people, quite enjoying the show - and they did think they were watching a show - turned to The Judge, making his entrance.

  He leant on the railing, looking down, eyebrows raised. 'Hm?'

  'Him!' Grim shrieked. 'He did it all! He kidnapped all the island's missing people!'

  Mutterings rose from the crowd, and Judge Rabbit made sure to be extra exaggeratory when he rolled his eyes. 'You're not answering my question, you lunatic. What is your plan? You're going to threaten the life of the man who writes who lives and dies? Be serious man. He knows he doesn't die here.'

  I cringed.

  'Well- eh...' Grim stammered his response. The hood hid his expression, but I could tell he knew. He knew he was powerless.

  The hood also hid any potential foreshadowing of the madness that followed.

  With the bottle still in his hand, Grim leapt atop David and brought it down on his head.

  It didn't break, but the sound was awful. He broke the Writer's teeth but not the bottle.

  The room swore, mingling in with the occasional yelp and the damp thud of the glass coming down a second time, and then a third.

  'Enough of that!' The Judge cried, but more out of exasperation than horror.

  I agreed with The Judge, bizarrely, and dove at Grim to pull him off. 'Hey! Fuc-' I forgot, of course, I was a ghost. I glided through him and out the other side. 'Fuckfuckfuck!'

  Grim swung the bottle around at the three non-translucent people who went for him like me.

  They backed off. The bottle narrowly missed each of their noses.

  'Bloody savage!' The Judge declared with a hint of glee.

  'I'm very sorry!' Grim called, stopping his assault for a moment. 'I'm sorry! But how sure are you?? Hm? How sure are you that everyone in here doesn't know what a crooked, horrible, broken man this Writer is, following you around, killing for you? Hm? What if some of the Judges got together and arranged his death, and this is how it happens??'

  'Oh-ho, that i
sn't how it works, boy.'

  'Yes, but how sure are you?'

  The Judge narrowed his eyes. 'I am a hundred percent certain.'

  I believed him.

  Grim, who had his knee in David's skull, eased up on him to free his blood-filled mouth. 'How sure are you?'

  I was over it. 'Hey, buddy, whoever you are. This isn't right. Enough. Send me.'

  Grim paid me no attention. He waited for the Writer's answer.

  'I can't bring her back. Dead is dead,' he spat.

  'No. You're wrong.'

  'He's not wrong! Oh for God's sake, where's Derek?' The Judge called, ‘Derek!’

  'Listen,' I said, squatting by Grim's assault. 'I get what you're doing, and I appreciate it, honestly. But-OW.'

  Click.

  A vicious, sweeping pain shook my whole body from the leg outwards. I looked down just in time to see a ghoul vanish into the ground. 'What the fuck!?'

  Around me, they pushed from the floor, grinning at me.

  The guests rumbled and separated around the small pools from where the ghouls sprouted.

  My priorities quickly changed. I limped off, through a crowd of people that spread like a spilt cup of water.

  A ghoul popped out of the ground under me and lunged, but I dashed sideways and missed it.

  'No!' Grim wailed. 'Make them stop! Change her back! Bring her back, now!'

  I backed into a wall, but a ghoul tumbled from it, tearing through me with a chunk of my chest.

  I struggled for air, another advanced.

  Its pulled-back features grinned as it fell towards me and snatched off my leg.

  I fell.

  'Boy, you're letting her go to Purgatory? You might want to stop that!' The Judge cooed.

  'No! No! No!'

  One dove through me, I fell to the ground, watching a room of people hide their faces. Grim stood up off of David and ran.

  He burst through a ghoul, diving, and planted a hand on my face.

  It phased through.

  He hadn't taken the glove off.

  He was awful at his job.

  He landed beside me with an empty whoof.

  A ghoul rose up beside him and fell on me, taking my eyes.

  And then I was gone.

  ~

  Forty-Nine

  Tommy Too-Late

  Tom used the road like he was supposed to.

  If he had taken Derek's shortcut through the trees, he might've shown up in time to see me go.

  I won't say he could've done anything to stop it.

  There was no way to stop it. Grim's little meltdown taught me that much.

  Tom would've been a secondary voice, at least. I mean, by the eyes of everyone in the room, a Reaper strongly disagreed with a send and went mental. It wouldn't have been the first time. If Tom were there to back up the story, more people might have believed Grim, but he couldn't have stopped me going to Purgatory.

  Nah.

  He would've held off until the last moment, and probably lost me to the ghouls.

  Just like Grim.

  ~

  Tom sped into the drive outside Rabbit Manor - as close to the front of the property as possible without breaking the door down - got out of the car and ran for the entrance. He punched the doorman, assuming him to be an employee of Judge Rabbit, and threw the door open.

  The lobby was loud and full of people dressed like idiots. Judge Rabbit stood above them, laughing like a nutter. David, the real one, counted his teeth on the ground and two men restrained Grim off to his left.

  'Is there any send you can’t fuck up, my boy? You missed two in one day!' The Judge announced. 'You're a monster! You truly are!'

  To a room full of ridiculously-dressed people, in what appeared to be the closing moments of a dramatic scene, Tom entered undetected.

  He looked around, seeing disgust and disapproval on every face. Grim had somehow made himself the villain here.

  The guests talked amongst themselves about the scandal that befell their party.

  Tom entered the fray, keeping his head low. He caught chatter of 'that poor girl’ and ‘is that The Reaper from the internet?’ and 'how did he even get the job?’ and a rare 'all part of the show! Rabbit and his theatrics!’

  'Oh-ho! What drama!' The Judge called. 'Well! Time for my address, if you'll all turn your attention back to me...'

  Tom tried to wriggle his way to Grim.

  As he fought through, one by one, every face turned into Derek; one eyebrow up and one smirk on his lips.

  Tom didn't know how to fix this.

  He didn't even know where to begin.

  ~

  It's cool, he didn't need to.

  Derek had it covered.

  ~

  Fifty

  The Entirely Unintentional Redemption of Ugly Derek

  In a different world, this story ends differently.

  In that world, maybe Derek's Daddy hadn't died in the ultimate act of professionalism, going down in flames for his duty.

  In that world, maybe Derek was never quite as devoted to Judge Rabbit and put a little more thought into his behaviour in this last crucial hour.

  In that world, he took the filing cabinet back to Rabbit Manor and hid it somewhere. He didn't go to the police at all. Tom spent the night in the cells, Judge Rabbit burned his mansion to the ground and fucked off on his retirement as planned.

  In that world, Inspector Harris never chased him the wrong way up Alisonhill and never found the rest of my band staggering out of the woods with Mute dangerously close to their tail.

  Maybe Derek never went to work for Judge Rabbit in the first place.

  Maybe.

  ~

  In this world, Derek crashed his car twice on the way up Alisonhill.

  After he crashed the second time, into a tree that did not - regardless of what he thought - spring up in front of him, he opened his car door and violently spewed.

  Wasting time, he thought to himself, slamming the door shut and pushing forward before he was done vomiting.

  He held in awful wretches as, ahead of him, his shortcut through the trees appeared.

  Tom would take the long way round!

  Derek could get ahead of him, stop him before he got to the manor, knock him out and have him out of the way while Judge Rabbit enjoyed the rest of his party!

  He grinned at the prospect, unaware that Tom had already entered Rabbit Manor by this point.

  Still, he carried on through the trees like they weren't in the middle of a storm that had dislodged a large portion of the woods at either side of the tyre tracks.

  The car managed to collect most of a bush on its way through, turning Derek blind to the road.

  The darkness got the better of him.

  He couldn't see.

  He groaned nervously.

  The car's rumbling made him dizzy.

  He started to be sick down himself.

  He had a bit of a panic attack.

  He fell asleep.

  His foot went heavy on the accelerator.

  The car erupted from the woods, past Tom's car, barrelling towards the front doors of Rabbit Manor.

  It ramped up the stairs, causing a terrific roar that woke Derek who jerked the steering wheel right, catching the top step and rolling the car onto its side as it burst through the front doors of Rabbit Manor.

  CRASH.

  Amidst the explosion of splintered wood, screaming party guests and over-powered engine revs, the boot popped open and a filing cabinet of incriminating evidence exploded all over a lobby of terrified Court officials as a car was flung amongst them.

  It landed and skid right into the grand stairs beneath Judge Rabbit on the GRAND OVERPASS.

  People were screaming.

  Derek felt severely disorientated.

  A new broken collarbone and whiplash added to his woes, as well as the smell of his own vomit bringing the heave.

  He tried to straighten up, adjusting himself so he knew what he w
as looking at; several faces stared back at him through the front window.

  Above all the bustle, he could hear one voice over all the others. It crushed him to recognise it, and furthermore, to recognise disappointment. 'That's Derek, isn't it?' Judge Rabbit said.

  Yessir, Derek thought. Yes, it is.

  He unclipped his seatbelt and found his way to the top of the car, the left-side door.

  He spent a few seconds rolling down the window and then he climbed out up to his waist. He saw Judge Rabbit on the GRAND OVERPASS looking - for the first time in his servitude - stunned.

  Nodding confidently at his employer, he slid down the car, tumbling to the ground in a room gone silent. There was only the sound of a wet suit slapping the floor and the skin on his ankle giving way to a protruding bone.

  The men charged with restraining Grim let him go.

  Tom, amongst the crowd, smiled.

  Before Derek got to his feet, he heard sirens of a police car approaching the hole in the mansion at an incredible rate. Then, right on time, the half-naked women Judge Rabbit had arranged for came dancing merrily into the hall from doors on either side of the walkway, ready to get the after-party started.

  Derek stood.

  Chin up, chest out, and hands clasped behind his back.

  He waited for a command.

  'Derek, my friend?' The Judge asked, after a good sixty-second pause.

  'Yessir?'

  He shrugged. 'Is there any chance you have whisky on you?'

  'No sir, I believe I used the last-'

  'You're fired, Derek.'

  Derek's heart sunk. 'Yessir.'

  ~

  Fifty-One

  Win

  Inspector Harris gathered an accurate account of events in no time; the lobby was covered in evidence. He made some phone calls and put two sets of handcuffs on Judge Rabbit and one on David.

  Inspector Harris marched them past my Dads.

  Tom had a lump in his throat and fury in his blood. He had beaten people half to death for disagreeing with him about how a turtle can roll itself back onto its feet. It wasn't fair that The Judge didn't take a single punch for murdering his daughter. Tom told himself the Court would punish him, but it didn't feel like enough.