by Al K. Line
"Hello. Is this the right place?" The woman smiled a familiar smile.
"Vicky?"
Worse Than Hell
"That's me," said my diminutive, and I assumed dead, sidekick. Vicky squinted up at the sky, frowned, then looked up and down the beach before focusing back on me.
"Why are you here?" I boomed, sounding scary even to me.
Vicky flinched and scrambled backward, fell on her bony bum, and batted the air like that could stop whatever she imagined was about to happen from happening. "Where's Arthur, you monster? What have you done with him? When's he taking over?"
"What's happening here? What are you talking about? It's me, you muppet. Get up, you look like something mangy washed up on the shore. Something small in an undersized sweater."
Vicky tugged at her tight red sweater and got to her feet, making a right show of it as she slid on the pebbles.
"Arthur?" Vicky studied me intently. I shifted uncomfortably under her penetrating mom-gaze, perfected to make you feel small and naughty after years of practice on the twins.
"Of course. Who else could it be?" There was a silence, an awkward one, and Vicky raised an eyebrow. "Okay, stupid question. Yeah, I'm Death. And it sucks. And it just got a whole lot worse."
"Arthur! That's so mean. I'm here to help." Vicky held out a hand to be assisted down the slope but I shook my head as I glided forward and said, "Sorry, no can do. Can't touch or you'll feel awful."
"Suit yourself, you big meanie." Vicky moved closer carefully then brushed herself down. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Aren't you going to ask what I'm doing here? How I got here?"
"I assume that without me to look after you, you did something unbelievably stupid and got yourself killed. Now you've left the girls alone and they'll be raised by your brother, a vampire gangster. See what you've done?"
"You are so mean. The meanest." Vicky pouted and resumed her eyeing me up. "You look stupid."
"Silence, mortal!" I shouted, the words echoing although for the life of me I don't know how.
Vicky puked up.
When she'd finished, and stood up again, she asked, "Why did you say that? It hurt, really bad. My stomach cramped and my head went all funny."
"Oh, sorry, it's the job, makes me do funny things." It did, but not that. If you can't wind up your sidekick when you're both dead then when can you?
"Hmm."
I thought for a moment then asked. "How come you didn't recognize me? You can tell it's me, right?"
"Not really, not at first. You look like I remember Death did. Really tall, the scythe, the cloak, the hood thing, all stooped and weird-shaped looking. And where is the old Death guy anyway?"
"I am not weird-shaped looking. I do not stoop. You know I've been working on my posture."
"Not very well. You're like a bent twig. All angles and sticky out bits."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"It's great to see you. It really is. Missed you."
"Missed you too. I can't believe it's true. What Sasha said."
"It's true," I said glumly. "What did Sasha say? Did she explain how I'm here?"
"She did. In her own way. You know what she's like."
"I know. Always evasive and answering with a question. Hardly telling you anything at all."
"Haha, something like that." Vicky glanced around again, eyes darting this way and that. "Arthur, am I going to heaven or hell? Can you tell?"
"I can, or I could, if I wanted to look."
"Will you?"
"I don't think that's a good idea, do you? And besides, you haven't told me how you got here? Come on, I could do with a good laugh. What idiot thing did you do?"
"I shot myself in the head." Vicky rubbed at her temple. There was no sign of the wound, not that it meant anything in a place like this.
"You what? Why? Surely even you know that's a bad idea."
"I'll tell you if you tell me." Vicky squared he shoulders. There was no arguing with her when she was like this. She was as stubborn as me and I guess that was why we got along so well in our own dysfunctional way.
"Fine. Stand still," I sighed.
I looked at this woman before me, this woman I made fun of, got inordinately annoyed by daily. My dear friend I loved so very much, who I would never hurt and who I wished could live for all eternity, who made me so sad because her children had lost their mother. I opened myself to her and dreaded what I would see. Her, who would do anything for her friends, would lay down her life for her children, who was caring, loving, kind, and who I knew had killed her husband because he dared hit her. Who had changed into an animal, and had rampaged and murdered and done all manner of terrible things. Some of them alone, most in my company and with my blessing. I looked at her and I weighed her worth.
"I think we need to find a way back from here, for both of us," I said when it was over. When I'd seen all that I needed to see. What did I see? Not telling, and I never will. Let's just say it's complicated, same as Vicky, and leave it at that.
"That's why I've come," said Vicky, brightening, looking like she was the dog's bollocks.
"You have a plan?" I asked, feeling hope despite myself, knowing anything she came up with would be useless and that we were stuck. At least I was. She would soon be making the final trip across the waters and I would never see her again.
"I do, and it's a cunning one." Vicky was grinning so much it made my jaw ache.
"Is it dastardly too?" I asked, my hopes soaring.
"It is beyond dastardly. It is ultra, uber cunning and entirely despicable."
"Let's hear it then. That's exactly the kind of plan we need. Oh, and why did you shoot yourself? Was something bad about to happen? Were you kidnapped and tortured? Was it Cerberus? I bet it was. Those bastards."
"No, I did it for you."
"For me?"
"Yes, so I could come and save you. I shot myself in the head so I could die and come to rescue you."
"Oh, that's... that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. Bit final isn't it?"
"You're Death. I figured you'd be able to send me back. It's up to you, right? Arthur, it's up to you, isn't it?"
"I think you did a very silly thing."
"I think you're right." Vicky began to cry.
I didn't blame her. She was screwed.
Me too.
A Slither of Hope
Once the tears had stopped, and who knew a dead Vicky could cry more than a live one, I got the chance to think while she sat and quietly worried about her future, or lack of. Vicky was dead, so was I, and that wasn't the best position to be in when you had stuff to do. Besides, there was no coffee in purgatory.
She was right. There was only one thing for it. We had to go back. If I was keen to return before, now my mind was absolutely made up.
One question remained. How?
"What was your plan?" I asked, hoping it was awesome, knowing it wouldn't be.
"Get killed, and come get you."
"That was it? Not much of a plan."
"Of course that isn't it. Sasha said there was only one way for you to come back and so I came to tell you. So you would be alive. Arthur, it's awful without you. You have to return. And now I'm dead too. Oh, what have I done? The girls will grow up to be junkies and live in cardboard boxes under bridges and it's all my fault."
"Don't be daft. They'll still be the rulers of the Galaxy, you just watch. Or, er, maybe not watch, but you know what I mean."
"You think?" she asked, brightening as she rubbed her eyes on her already soaked sleeves.
"Sure. But look, what did Sasha say? I think you need to tell me exactly, word for word, what she told you. You took one hell of a risk coming here, doing what you did, so you must have some idea how to get us back." I sure hoped she did.
"Sasha said you were in charge of dealing with the dead for a while, probably a long while, because you'd used up the lives she gave you. She said there was a deal,
a contract, and you triggered it. You were stuck, but then she said there was a way, although it wasn't really allowed, and it broke the rules."
"Screw the rules! We're gangsters, we live to break the rules."
"Exactly!" Vicky punched the air despite her sadness. She sure did love being called a gangster. I smiled despite myself.
"So, how do we do it?"
"She said the only way to get back was if the names weren't crossed out in the ledger. The Death Book, she called it. You know, like it had capitals, meaning it was extra important. If your names aren't crossed out, or there's nobody to cross them out, then you can't be dead."
"Damn, my name is crossed out. The last guy did it."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. But yours isn't, so you can go back."
"But I haven't, have I?"
"No, not yet, but I think I have an idea. You ready?"
"For what?"
"For getting the hell out of dodge?"
"Yes!" Vicky punched the air again, then stood, and oh no, not this, not now, anything but this.
I screamed, sure in the knowledge I was stuck in the worst kind of hell, as Vicky faced me with a huge grin. She swayed, her hips gyrated, then it was game on.
She did her mom dance.
Time to leave.
Nothing to Lose
"Stand back," I warned as I looked up and saw what was coming.
Vicky's eyes wandered, then widened as she jumped aside before the table slammed down in a cloud of dust. I wondered what would have happened if it landed on her. It couldn't make her any more dead.
We stood side by side as the ledger landed with a suitably weighty thud, then came the ink and quill. The chair came last.
"This is the Death Book," I said.
"Duh, obviously."
"Oi, don't be cheeky to Death," I warned. "I can cross your name out you know."
"Arthur, don't joke about it."
"Sorry. Thanks for coming to save me, it was the stupidest thing anyone has ever done for me."
"And the nicest, remember? You said it was the nicest."
"Yes, the nicest too. Was that really the extent of your plan? Come tell me Sasha said I could return if my name wasn't crossed out?"
"Um, yeah. I figured you always find a way to get what you want. Always come up with a solution. This is it, right? I did good?"
"You did good, little one." I went to ruffle her hair, but stopped myself just in time.
"Shut up, you idiot."
The book settled. The huge, intimidating, some might say infinite book containing the name of everyone who had or would ever die. Pages rustled then it was speeding through, flipping over and over until it suddenly ceased.
We moved forward cautiously, like it was a wild animal, and peered down at the pages. "There you are," I said, extending a bony finger and pointing at her name.
"Ugh, your finger hasn't got any skin," squealed Vicky. "Or has it? It's hard to tell." Vicky shook her head to try to lift the fog of my strange state, but I knew it would remain. "So what do we do now?"
"What we make sure not to do is cross your name out," I said, staring hard at the words written, the spidery writing almost crawling around on the page. The longer we stared at it, the larger it seemed to grow, the more insistent it was about being crossed out. I felt my hand wander towards the quill and had to make a conscious effort to resist picking it up and dipping it in the inkwell.
We watched, lost to the endless lines. There was an urgent tugging at my mind and body, almost like the words were calling me. Nausea rose, and if it was possible for me to sweat then that was what I did. I felt clammy, nervous, then pains grew in my stomach, fierce and stabbing. Before I knew what I was doing, I was holding the quill and hovering just above the ink.
With a tremendous force of will, I exhaled imaginary air and released my vice-like grip on the feather.
"Ugh, that was a close one," I gasped, turning to Vicky.
She was utterly unaware of what I was doing or saying. She was motionless, eyes transfixed on the page, wide and dry like a desert. Her whole body shook, a fast vibration like she was about to explode into a million pieces.
"Vicky, Vicky!" I shouted, the words booming and breaking through her trance.
She collapsed to the ground and more than anything I wanted to help her, to pick her up and make fun of her weighing less than a small bag of potatoes, but I couldn't. I had to watch as she came back to herself and stood on shaky feet, skin slick with sweat.
"You okay?"
"The book, the words, they were in my head and it felt weird, just wrong. You have to cross my name out, Arthur, or something awful will happen."
"No, something awful will happen if I do. It's just the book calling to us, it wants your name crossed out. But we won't do that. We're going home and consequences be damned."
"How? How can we do that?"
"Like this," I said, and I reached out and despite my body's protestations I flipped the pages and as the sickness rose and my stomach felt like it was being jabbed by javelins, I kept on going until I reached my name.
"Blimey, look at all your entries," whispered Vicky, as if talking loudly would goad the book to further anger.
"I know. Crazy, right?" I whispered in return, not risking it. "And here's the last entry, the last of my names on this page. I'm sure there are more on the other side, I got a glimpse of them once. Maybe I've got another fifty," I mused, hoping I did. And hoping I got the chance to use them if needed. Although, obviously, me being an ace wizard meant it was highly unlikely.
"You are so lucky."
"Yeah, that's me. Mr. Lucky."
"What now?"
"I'll tell you what now." Before I could think about what I was doing, or the book had time to flip to another page, I put one hand on the thin, brittle paper and with the other I pinched the bottom corner and ripped right across the last entry, tearing an impossibly thin sliver of paper with a single name on it, as though it were perforated and would always rip clean.
As the paper came away in my hand the book went nuts. It flipped back and forth as if in pain, as though sentient. Faster and faster, pages screaming with anger, with the wrongness of what I'd done.
"See, no entry for me, and your name isn't crossed out yet. And I'm not going to cross her name out. You hear me? I won't do it," I shouted to the sky.
In response, the clouds amassed, thick roiling dark monsters clashing together. Rain fell in torrents, then stopped the next moment, leaving me and Vicky soaked, the book as dry as my bones.
Thunder rolled across an endless sky. Lightning forked across the lake, then the book slammed shut, the ink and quill shot up, the book flew up and was eaten by a cloud, then the table and chair disappeared too.
"No, I ain't finished. I'm in charge, you come back here."
My voice carried authority in this place while I was still here, and as the air bubbled and the pebbles clattered, the whole lot slammed down angrily.
I grabbed the book, tucked it under my arm, and shouted, "Be gone." The table and the rest went up once more and with a sonic boom the clouds closed until the sky was low and oppressive and almost all light was banished.
"What will happen?" shouted Vicky as the wind pummeled us and her hair was torn loose from its tight ponytail.
"I don't know, but if my guess is right we'll be going back any minute now. It will hurt though, so be warned."
"Hurt? You never said anything about—"
Vicky's words were cut off by our screams as the scythe flew free of my grip. With a vicious swipe it cut both our heads clean off.
Could be Worse
"Argh. Ugh," came such insightful sounds and plenty more.
I shot up from my prone position and checked around in utter panic, unsure if I'd been having the mother of all nightmares or if it had all been real.
Vicky was sitting on her sofa, her stupid green sofa with gold braiding—the woman had zero taste—a gun beside her, poking a fin
ger into her temple and screaming. Seemed like it could go on for quite some time.
I checked my own head, remembering the bullet that had finished me off too, and was pleased to find that the hole had already closed. I felt cold, freezing in fact, and my muscles were so stiff it was like rigor mortis.
How long had I been dead? How was I in Vicky's living room? I realized I wasn't breathing, which would explain the cold thing, so whacked my chest several times and my heart began to beat. Warmth spread through my body like a dip in the pool at Satan's Breath, and with it came life, hope, and a renewed appreciation for central heating and thick duvets. I could have sat in front of a radiator for a week, but there were things to do. Unfortunately.
My arm spasmed and the Death Book fell to the floor. I looked down at my hand and saw the sliver of paper I'd torn from the page pinched tightly between thumb and forefinger. I secured it in one of many secret stash-pockets and hurriedly got to my feet.
At least I tried. My legs were stiffer than Vicky's starched sheets, and the knees seemed to have fused solid. Like a man on stilts, I half hopped, half stumbled over to Vicky and collapsed onto the sofa beside her.
"It's okay, it's okay. We're back. Move your hand away, let me see." Vicky looked into my eyes then nodded slightly. She trusted me. I took her hand, the touch of another human being so welcome and warm, like I'd been alone for a lifetime, and gently moved it away. I watched as the hole in her head sealed over and the skin went from translucent to regular looking, if a little pink.
"Is it still there? Will I always have a hole? I don't want a hole in my head. I won't be able to have a ponytail."
"It's gone. Good as new. Remember, you aren't dead, so it never happened. Same for me. Damn."
"What?" Vicky looked around in a panic, probably expecting something horrible to happen, same as me.
"I haven't quite thought this through. I think I had loads more lives on the next page, but I can't use any of them unless I use this one first. But number fifty means I go back and do the job. Ugh."
"What's the big deal? Just don't be an idiot and get killed. It's how everyone else has to live. What makes you so special?"