Don't Fear The Reaper

by Lex Sinclair

  The green shining man rose from the half-circle couch and stared at her with expressionless eyes. Then his eyes gazed over her shoulder towards the door. Belinda didn’t dare turn around even if she could. However, when the enormous skeletal hand pressed down on her bony shoulder she believed her entire body would crumble and burn to ash.

  In the small mirror on the door that led to the bathroom, Belinda saw whose hand had rested upon her shoulder. Her knees buckled and she whimpered. Dizziness blinded her momentarily. Yet the enormous hand of the Reaper remained.

  In that moment Belinda prayed for immediate death.

  But she was very much alive…

  The shining green man whose body had once been her husband’s earthly shell spoke. His voice came from faraway as though through a channel that couldn’t be reached in the physical sense. However, it was the words he chose, not the distance the words travelled, that perished Belinda’s hope of this being one big, elaborate dream.

  ‘You have always let fear control your life, Belinda,’ the green man said. ‘Your previous fears could have been easily overcome had you had the courage – but not this fear. This fear is something that cannot be thwarted. Unlike the fears from your childhood when your mother used to lock you in your bedroom all weekend. She made you clean your bedroom. Then when that was done she’d come in and mess it up and order you to clean it up again. And what did Daddy do for you? He left his ladder propped up against the rear wall right outside your bedroom window. All you had to do was open the window and climb out. But you never did. Not even Daddy could understand your tears at the dinner table afterward. He never said a word because all the times he tried to help you, you ignored him and suffered in silence. Pity is no good. Pity got you nowhere.’

  Had Belinda been screaming or protesting she’d have been stunned back into silence. The words the “green man” spoke were vividly accurate.

  ‘Then there was Jimmy Green; your ex-boyfriend. He’d take you to the valleys on cold winter nights to look at the stars. You’d mentioned you were interested in astrology. You’d been dating three weeks and all he’d done in that time was grope and paw you. Not one word you said ever got through to him. You knew this subconsciously. Yet you went with him anyway. Mummy called you a dirty whore. Even Daddy said Jimmy was interested in one thing and one thing alone… and he never interfered, not after trying to help you and being ignored.

  ‘November 2 1982. Nineteen you were and going with Jimmy Green as you thought no one else would like you. And God forbid you had to overcome your fear of asking someone out yourself. So there you were, making out. Then ol’ Jimmy starts sliding his hand down your blouse to your burning libido. You groaned like a bitch on heat. You stroked his shaft beneath his underpants, loving the hot throbbing hard soldier. You slid into the back seat. Jimmy pulled your bottoms off and began probing his fingers through your underwear. You knew what Jimmy intended, didn’t you?’

  Belinda couldn’t answer even if she wanted to.

  ‘After all, you’d gladly participated up until that point – but then what happened?’ The “green man” didn’t wait for a response. ‘Your fear of losing your virginity and shagging Jimmy rose to the surface like a volcano. You started moaning “No, no.” over and over again. Yet deep down you were still enjoying it. Then he tried to push his greasy cock into you, but you fought him and scratched him.

  ‘You were a “cock-tease”, Belinda. And you feared the ramifications of what might happen to you if Jimmy told everyone what you’d done, so you let him enter you. He raped you till you were sore and you never overcame your fear to tell anyone about it; not even your husband, Tom.’

  Frightened as she was, Belinda nodded in solemn agreement.

  ‘But today your lifelong fear is not something you can overcome with courage. Today’s fear is a righteous fear. Today you shall be given a choice to overcome your lifelong fears of inadequacy or face your fear of Death.

  ‘You can join us or you can dance with the Grim Reaper. What shall it be?’

  The heart palpitations caused the woman to gasp for breath. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. So many ideas flooding her consciousness. She wanted to know what would happen if she overcame her lifelong fears and joined the shining green man that had once been Tom but was now something else – would she be like him? Moreover, she desperately needed to know what had befallen Tobe, and if he was safe. However, the answer to those questions, especially the last one was too much to bear.

  Incapable of responding, the towering cloaked figure made the decision for her.

  *

  Elias Benullo stirred awake, fresh and recuperated. As he gazed about him he was surprised to see the Stygian gloominess of the cavern and not the world outside and beyond. His confusion subsided when he realised everything he’d just seen was a dream… although it felt so real.

  In the dream a towering cloaked figure came to visit him. It travelled in an old rickety carriage. The shiny white horse had not a speck of dirt, ash or mud on it. Something at the rear of the carriage rattled hollowly. The enormous figure emerged and stepped down. Then it appeared to float not walk across the smouldering ruins. In its large emaciated hand a scrunched ponytail of hair trailed the round shape that must have been a ball with flesh. The dark figure cornered the carriage and lifted the lid of the box and tossed the ball inside.

  Elias thought it strange that the ball had hair, but perhaps it was to use for those who only had one spare hand. The other of the cloaked figure gripped a long black pole with the longest curved shaped blade he’d ever seen. The flashlights illuminated the figure and its tool. The long dagger-pointed blade was coated in a blackish liquid that dripped soundlessly.

  Two sentries donning their army coloured uniforms ceased eating their apples and saw Elias for the first time since he’d drifted out the cavern’s hole. One of them hissed something at him, but Elias didn’t hear him. No doubt though, the soldier was ordering him to return farther inside.

  Darkness cascaded the miserable, thunderous clouds. This didn’t frighten or intimidate Elias one iota. Some who had been born and were old enough had merely adopted the dark. Elias had been born in the dark. Darkness was his ally. He was raised by the darkness.

  The soldier was about to stride towards Elias when he stopped. Frowning, he followed the boy’s gaze and saw the towering amorphous figure that had materialised from the dark heading towards them. He shouted and pointed so his comrade paid heed to what was going on. Then they both raised their assault rifles. But before they could fire off a single round the enormous figure in black loomed over them and swung with velocity and finesse. Its precise swings were too quick for the eye to see and the brain to absorb. However, in spite of the speed and power the swings were executed absent of rage or bitterness.

  Elias stood transfixed on the scene playing out before him. Never before had he seen conflict the older humans talked about by day and dreamed and sobbed about by night. Yet instead of being paralysed with fear, Elias found the only aspect of the incident that kept him rooted to the spot was awe.

  The heads leapt from the necks eagerly. The headless bodies toppled to the ground and spurted endless amounts of blood. The heads rolled.

  Elias should have felt the urge to scream and run back into the depths of the cavern, away from this monstrosity. Nevertheless, a placated sense of ease and tranquillity settled into him. The presence of the hooded dark figure comforted him. Perhaps it was because not even men with guns could hurt him if the figure was around.

  The figure floated towards him and to meet its gaze Elias had to tilt his head right back. With one skeletal hand that was big enough to envelope Elias’ head, the figure rested it gently on him.

  The smouldering ruins and charcoal blackness the figure had emerged from vanished and spun faster and faster until the colours blurred together and then as one single unit. Then Elias found himself standing next to a dark, faceless figure somewhere high up. He knew this because all ac
ross the vista were mountain peaks and beneath the valleys serpentine roads traversed through environing farmlands and inconspicuous villages.

  They stood in the centre of a circle of people shining green from the inside as well as the outside. Their combined light pulsed rhythmically in unison to soundless music. The marble stone that was erected into a vertical rectangle hummed softly. Then the ground around this statue parted and the stone was swallowed in one slow, fluid motion into the earth.

  The hundreds inside this stone-constructed auditorium stared directly at him waiting with inhuman patience for his next command. Elias didn’t know what was happening, although what he understood was this: he was their leader.

  The world was his.

  Sitting at the centre on a chair thousands of years old, Elias arched his head back and gazed wonderingly at the crimson skies.

  The sky is bleeding!

  The scene rotated as though he were dizzy. Then it spun faster and faster and faster until the crowd and the mountains and the valleys became one. He thought all this out-of-control spinning was going to make him sick.

  Then he found himself tottering with his head arched back at the mouth of the cavern. The smouldering ruins that had once been many shades of green smoked and the headless corpses still lay unmoving where they’d fallen.

  The dark cloaked figure with the skeletal hands had gone.

  Elias peered closer to where the rickety old carriage had rolled to a halt. Not a trace of wheel marks or tread was to be seen.

  28.

  ST JOHN THE BAPTIST CHURCH was a sagging single-story construction, settling into the earth like a weary geriatric. The windows were intricately webbed. Only the trace of colours remained, mostly diminished and greyed. The path to the door was splintering. Up close Perkins hadn’t spotted much change. However, now standing back at a place he knew as home he saw for the first time the conspicuous damage that had been inflicted upon the stone church.

  The steeple had buckled and leaned over drunkenly. The gradient he’d ascended when he’d been looking for Jane was covered in faded and demoralised headstones. The quiet he’d known and grown accustomed to he’d once relished now emanated an eerie forsaken aura.

  All he had to do was close his eyes and reminisce. His memory depicted a clear vision of altar boys and choir members arriving at the rear entrance half an hour before the main door was to be opened and the service to proceed. The main road was a couple hundred yards down the slope and on Sunday mornings was often deserted. When the trees had leaves and the grass bore a fresh green hue and dulcet birdsong came from high up in the branches, Perkins thought it the ideal location for his sermons.

  The religious and non-religious folk attended; the latter not as devotedly. Nevertheless, he welcomed them all the same. This was the same church where once the service had reached its conclusion, and he either travelled to the next local church or retired for the day, middle-aged and older women and men of the parish gathered to mingle and tea and biscuits. What he found most depressing was how the building’s dilapidation and lack of attendance hadn’t anything to do with people no longer feeling obliged to attend, either through losing faith or moving to another district. No, the sight of the moss-coated ruined building before him falling out of use was the harrowing result of their dire circumstances.

  The hardwood door squealed in protest on its unused hinges as it swung open. The musty odour billowed out as though fleeing sinister ghosts within. The curved archway that offered a dusty and shadowy vestibule was merely a shell of the resplendent sunshine that often shone through on those memorable Sunday mornings.

  Tears pooling in his eyes, Perkins edged farther inside. Using his battery-powered flashlight, the reverend approached the notice board and read by the cone of white light.

  Flyers for funeral directors and professional photographers adorned the left-hand side. Towards the centre there was a Thank You card from parishioners and other townsfolk thanking the groundskeeper for cutting the tall grass and clearing the pathways to their relatives’ graves. A pink flyer announced COFFEE MORNING! The devoted members who mingled after the service had arranged a coffee and cake gathering to raise money for breast cancer. The date of the event never came about. December 11 2006.

  Perkins couldn’t read any more.

  With a hard lump lodged in his throat, he retreated back outside and closed the door gently. He leaned against the stone wall – the only thing keeping him from collapsing to his knees and throwing in the towel.

  ‘Anthony!’

  Perkins blinked away his brimming tears and focused in the direction he heard his name being called out.

  Jonesy was ambling up the gravel path.

  ‘Suppose Jane told you what she saw?’

  Jonesy nodded confirmation. ‘Aye. I thought I slept like shit, but least I didn’t have no weird arse dream or premonition.’ The gun shop proprietor who had left a humble life prior to the aftermath approached the young man. ‘Ya look like shit, no offence.’

  ‘None taken.’

  ‘Can I ask you somethin’?’ Jonesy stared at him, serious.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do you really believe in demons and angels ’n all that shite? Or are there just some crazy fuckers out there who’ve seen where we are and thought they can loot our stuff?’

  Perkins swept his fringe off his clammy brow and sighed. ‘I don’t doubt Jane’s vision for a second,’ he said with a heavy heart. ‘Everything we’ve seen has happened. There’s no reason not to believe her. She’s clearly distressed and anxious, as she well be. I dunno what to do. How am I supposed to protect Sapphire? I mean it’s hard enough getting clean drinking water and food in our bellies, let alone fighting against the dark lords.’

  Jonesy motioned for Perkins to sit on the cold stone step of the church. Then he did the same and gazed out at the mist swirling around them. ‘You genuinely believe that your sister wasn’t off her rocker when she wrote that letter you showed me, right?’

  Perkins confirmed that that was correct. ‘I don’t know how or why we know these things without a single shred of proof – we just know. I dunno what Sapphire is supposed to do when he comes of age. I’m not sure what my part in all this is or yours.’

  ‘You see,’ Jonesy said, sounding optimistic. ‘You haven’t lost your faith; just momentarily misplaced it.’

  ‘This isn’t about believing in God, Jonesy. This is doing what’s good instead of something evil.’

  Jonesy shrugged indifferently. ‘To me that’s all life is about.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Look, I don’t think there’s a big motherfucker called God watching us, but I do believe that every important thing happens for a reason. To me, when I die, all I want is people who really knew through and through to be able to say, “overall the good in Jonesy by far outweighed the bad”. And that’s all anyone can ever do. If we die and that’s it, it’s outta my hands. If we die and you get rewarded for every good deed and for being a genuinely good person, fuckin’ great!’

  ‘In the Bible it says, “God helps those who help themselves”. But I gotta be honest with you, mate, we’ve more than helped ourselves and I see no God helping.’

  Jonesy stared at the ground and kicked up a plume of asphalt. ‘My personality or soul or whatever got scarred when my mum sold my dog behind my back for cash for herself. That broke my heart forever. That’ll never be fixed. But if you loved someone the way I loved my dog then you’ll keep doing the good things in their name as well as for yourself. All your sister is asking is to do your best in the task she’s asked of you, that’s all.’

  ‘And how am I supposed to do that, huh?’

  ‘These demons on bikes who’ll be here before sunset are coming here to kill Sapphire, right?’

  Perkins nodded.

  ‘So obviously they believe that Sapphire is a threat to this Grim Reaper motherfucker and themselves. This proves what your sister wrote in her last day is true.

>   ‘Why don’t you take the kid and get in the van and head to my place? When the three wankers come here I and the others won’t say a word. If they threaten us with our lives – and let’s face it, we’re on borrowed time as it is – I’ll tell them you gone west. Meanwhile you and the kid make yourselves something to eat from my freezer and head north or east. Plenty more guns and ammo back at my place. We got Uzi’s, colt’s, revolvers, assault rifles and shotguns here.’

  Perkins shook his head forcefully. ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘You can and you will. Otherwise surviving up until this point will be a waste of fuckin’ time; that I can tell you for certain.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Perkins said, restraining the urge to sob. ‘He’s attached to Smokey. I can’t take the cat with us. If Sapphire saw him die he’d be crushed.’

  Jonesy averted his gaze. ‘Aye. The only reason I got close to him ’cause he reminds me of when I was his age with my dog. Apologise again for using bad language ’round him though. That’s my bad. Wasn’t thinking.’ Jonesy too was letting his emotions surface. ‘Nice kid, ain’t he? Even if he wasn’t the destined saviour-to-be, he’s a good kid. Nice to everyone. Didn’t quiz me or Jane when we arrived here; just welcomed us as though we were old friends. Pity. Most adults I knew couldn’t ’ave done the same even before this cluster-fuck.’

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

  Dead leaves scuttled and scraped across the asphalt path.

  ‘There is something special about him,’ Perkins said. ‘But I can’t leave Sue or Natalie or Jane.’

  ‘They’ll understand,’ Jonesy said, using the cuff of his shirt to dab his eyes. ‘As soon as Jane told them exactly what was going down and you came out here, they started talking ’bout the little ’uns wellbeing. Didn’t give flying fuck ’bout themselves. No sir. God or no God, those girls in your home are fuckin’ angels, I kid you not. I’ll pump those three shit-faced cock-masters full of lead and punch, kick head-butt, spit and swear like fuck before I let them get their hands on them. You can take that to the bank and cash it in, no problem.’