Death Calls

by Al K. Line

  "Sorry about the mess, but it's all good now, right?"

  "Suppose."

  Vicky and I watched the men for a while then we left them to it. I nodded at the Cleaner when she glanced my way and she returned the gesture. Then she was back to business, directing operations.

  By the time I'd made coffee for us both, the place looked pristine and you'd never know anything had happened. I found Vicky in the living room and gave her the coffee.

  "Sorry," I said.

  "It's okay. I'm a little edgy I suppose."

  "Problem dealt with. Are you feeling all right? It was quite the thing you did, you know?"

  "I know."

  "I mean that much to you"? I asked, still shocked by her willingness to go to such extremes.

  "Of course you do. You've done the same for me, haven't you? You saved me before, remember?"

  "Yeah, I have, haven't I? I forgot. I stabbed myself and came to get you. Death let you off."

  "There you go then. My head feels weird though, where the bullet went in."

  "It will do. Just your body trying to figure out what the hell happened and make sure it doesn't happen again."

  "Guess I'm pretty lucky to get another chance too."

  "Guess so."

  There wasn't much more to be said, not now. We both knew things would get wild, but now wasn't the time to talk about it. We sat, we chatted, we let the events of the night and morning settle into the past until it all felt like a strange dream. Surely this couldn't really be happening?

  But it had, and it was, and things would be peculiar for a while.

  "I need to go," I said eventually.

  "Really? Do you have to?"

  "I have to see George and Penelope, tell them what happened. Thanks for not telling them, saving them the upset."

  "My pleasure. I figured it was best not to."

  "You were right, but I need to see them and I need a shower and a change of clothes. I smell like Death."

  "Yeah, proper funky." Vicky smiled, but her heart wasn't in it.

  "See you later?"

  "After I pick the girls up? Maybe Ivan will babysit. I'm sure there will be things to do."

  "There will. But you don't have to get involved. You can sit this out. It'll be mad, I'm sure."

  "No way!" Vicky was on her feet, hands on hips. "If you think I'm missing out again then think again, mister. You've been keeping me away from things lately and I won't stand for it."

  "Haha, suit yourself."

  I got my stuff together and left. Time to go home.

  Love and Punches

  I wandered down the drive and found myself out on the quiet street. What was I doing? I was miles from the city so couldn't walk, didn't have the energy. I stood for a while, wondering what to do, then heard a car behind me.

  "Fancy a lift, you idiot?" asked Vicky with a big grin.

  "Yeah," I mumbled, then got in.

  It wasn't long and I was back in the big smoke. The noise, people, traffic, and signs of human beings going about their business was confusing and overwhelming after my stint in a place so quiet and empty.

  I got out at the city house, thanked Vicky, and promised to call her later. I warned her to be careful, then shut the door.

  Vicky opened the passenger window and shouted, "Aren't you forgetting something?" I shook my head, I didn't think so. "The bloody Death Book, you muppet," she said, exasperated.

  "Damn, what is wrong with me?" I reached in through the window and grabbed the carrier bag she'd put on the seat.

  Vicky drove off with another shake of her head and I was alone, standing outside my house, a house merely for one of the Gates of Bakaudif, portals that took you from one to the other and a real time-saver.

  With a shrug, I checked the street both ways for large men in dark cloaks, then hurried inside. Everything felt cold, and a darkness was descending as the more morbidly inclined wizards came searching for the book.

  Silence enveloped me as I closed the door behind me. I rested my back against the wood and took a deep breath. I was out-of-sorts and then some. Hardly surprising, but I had to get myself together. There would be more nutters after this book and I had no plan, hadn't thought past getting Vicky back to her kids and me back to my family. What came next was anyone's guess. Presumably the next guy who would take my place would be here soon to pick up his book, or it would just disappear once the dust settled and return to its rightful place. Until then I just had to hold tight, not lose it, and never, ever get killed again or I'd be right back where I started.

  Or would I? With name fifty secured in my pocket, surely that meant I'd skipped the bad stuff? If the book returned but that entry was gone then would that mean I had maybe another fifty lives to dick about with and I'd never have to fulfill the contract?

  Guess it depended on how it was worded. Maybe it meant the next entry in the ledger was now number fifty. Best not to take any chances. It was a real downer, thinking I was as susceptible to death as everyone else, that my afterlife would be a rough one. Worst of all, I knew what awaited.

  At least after I served my time I'd come back though, but who knew how time would pass while I was Death the next time? Would it be like it had been, or different? Would I return after it feeling like thousands of years only to find it really had been? Could that happen? No, because my body would be dust by then. It was small consolation, and to be honest, I was mostly making things up as I had no idea how any of it worked and got the feeling I would never get the answers I wanted.

  This was too confusing for the human mind to deal with. Time flowed differently, everything was wonky, and I needed another coffee before I did anything.

  So that's what I did. I made coffee, and I sat in the living room and drank it slowly, lost deep in concentration.

  After thinking hard for quite some time, I concluded that yes, if I died again I would definitely return and be Death, there was no avoiding it. I may have torn out my name, and refused to cross Vicky's out, so broken the contract and avoided my fate temporarily, but it had been crossed out, no matter that it wasn't in the book, and even if that somehow didn't count, next time it would.

  So, Arthur had one life same as everyone else, and then I was in for who knew how many years of being the grumpy guy in a big cloak wielding a sharp scythe. I didn't know what would happen after that. I'd broken the rules, so I'd find that out when the time came.

  A more immediate worry was the ledger. If I'd bailed with it, then was there a new guy in my place? Sure, I felt sorry for him, but he'd made a deal same as me, even if he didn't know about it, same as me, same as Gavin before me. That was his problem, not mine. If he came asking for the book he could have it.

  Wait it out? Yes, that seemed like the best thing. Wait it out and let the new guy come get his book if it didn't vanish of its own accord.

  Feeling happier now I'd thought it through, I drained my cold coffee and decided it was well past time to return home. I couldn't wait to see Penelope, she was so lovely, so perfect, so more than I deserved, and it still amazed me that I'd actually found happiness and love, and with a citizen of all people!

  Incredible.

  I washed up my mug, ran back into the living room and picked up the book, then I stepped through the portal and emerged in my barn in the Cornish countryside just a few miles away from home sweet home.

  A short drive through quiet lanes, signs of spring lifting my spirits even higher, birds flying in and out of hedgerows, leaves unfurling on trees, the fields lush and green, bright flowers everywhere, crops sturdy and reaching for the still relatively weak sun. I felt like a new man by the time I pulled up at the gate.

  Engine off, I sat in the car and soaked up the atmosphere. I was home, a real home. With my daughter and my girlfriend inside or maybe off doing chores, but this was where I belonged.

  With my family.

  Oh!

  I opened the door and shouted, "Hi, I'm home," a huge grin plastered across my goofy face. />
  No answer. Maybe they were out? The cars were here though, so they might be in the kitchen, or down with the horses.

  As the silence descended I could hear the radio in the kitchen, so they were probably in there. They'd taken to listening to a cheesy 80's pop radio station and singing along and dancing around the kitchen together. There is no finer sight than seeing your daughter and your girlfriend getting on so well and being so happy. They were friends, and Penelope's move into the house had been painless, but there was also that distance, the knowledge that Penelope was the woman of the house and we did as we were told.

  We both loved it. George and I had been missing someone to rein us in, to take control of things, and to chastise us when we did stupid stuff. Me more than her, I'm ashamed to say. Penelope was the mother figure, and George embraced the change same as me.

  My smile grew even broader as I removed my boots then wandered down the hallway to the rear of the house where the adjacent barn had been converted into the best kitchen in the entire universe. I'd had the entire end wall knocked down and steel inserted so you went from narrow hall to kick-ass huge kitchen. Beams and a high, vaulted ceiling contrasted nicely with freshly plastered walls and more modern kitchen gear than you could shake a sentient stick at. I may have mentioned my kitchen before, but God it was fantastic.

  It also cost a fortune, and was worth every single penny. Sad to say, I was looking forward to seeing my kitchen almost as much as my family. Okay, just as much. What can I say? I loved it.

  I stood in the doorway, watching as they jigged about to a song I would have sworn was only a few years old but when I did the calculations was dismayed to realize was mid-to-late eighties. Where does the time go?

  Penelope spun with her arms out, grinning, then saw me.

  "Arthur!" She dashed across the room, ready to embrace me, and I moved forward eagerly to get my cuddle, something I sorely needed.

  As I walked, I got the strangest feeling, and the world began to vibrate, or maybe it was me, I wasn't sure. My vision blurred, I felt like I was gliding not walking, and a sinking feeling consumed me moments before my whole body turned translucent, which may have just been my imagination. Pain tore through me like a blunt ripsaw and I stared at Penelope who had stopped short, a look of horror on her face as she screamed, "What's wrong?" a moment before I closed my eyes as the agony became too intense to bear.

  I opened my eyes, the pain suddenly gone.

  "Bollocks." I stared at the lake and my hand wrapped tightly around a comfortable haft.

  All Messed Up

  "No, no, no. This can't be happening," I moaned as I looked down to see my body covered in the familiar cloak of regret and retribution.

  Everything was familiar, but everything was different, all wibbly wobbly and out of focus. As if this world objected to my presence, or it was out-of-whack somehow.

  I couldn't be back, surely? The ledger was still at home, in my bloody hands, and I sure as hell didn't have it with me here.

  Even as I looked, my left hand, which had been empty, curled around a cheap plastic handle and slowly the rest of the bag materialized.

  "No, absolutely not. No way. Ain't gonna happen." I was determined, resolute, and carried on talking to anything that would listen. "This isn't how it works. I broke the contract, ripped the entry out, so it hasn't happened. The book is there, same as me, so I am not, will not, be here. You hear me?" I wailed to the stupid sky. "I will not do this. I changed the rules, I broke the bloody rules. Even if the ledger returns I'm not coming back with it. I got my life back, it isn't in the book, so I cannot be here."

  The sky darkened, rain pummeled me but I remained dry, and through the murk I saw people amassed on the vast beach. They were like zombies, shuffling about, looking confused and scared and all alone even though there were thousands upon thousands of them. Who were they?

  Goddamn, there was no replacement yet. They were waiting for their names to be signed out. Ugh, what a mess.

  Silhouettes of endless souls filled my vision and then, just like that, they shimmered and wobbled and my body vibrated manically. I knew what was coming.

  I closed my eyes, and when I opened them I was lying on my kitchen floor. Water dripped from my sodden clothes, pooling on my expensive imported black porcelain tiles.

  "Arthur, what's happening," asked Penelope as she crouched down and looked into my eyes with real concern.

  "Dad, where did you go? You went all fuzzy, almost translucent, then fell over." George bent too, a vision with her auburn hair in ringlets, her wide green eyes, looking stressed and confused. My darling family.

  "I might have done a bad thing," I muttered as I let them help me up.

  "What's new?" said George, already calming and wandering off to press buttons on the new coffee machine she still hadn't figured out properly. She was a good girl, and used to her old dad's antics.

  "Are you okay?" asked Penelope, stroking my cheek.

  "Better for seeing you." I hugged her tight, never wanted to let her go, but I knew I had to take my pleasures when I could, so I held on and prayed I'd beaten this curse that wanted to drag me away from all I held dear in this world or the next.

  Telling Tales

  "You can let go now," whispered Penelope, her breath warm on my ear.

  "Sorry, but it feels so good." I relaxed and moved away slightly, just so I could look at her. "You look beautiful," I said, meaning it.

  Penelope flushed sexily and put a hand through her hair. "Thank you. What was that? What happened?"

  "It's a long story. Let's sit. I have something to tell you both."

  "Stupid machine," muttered George, stabbing repeatedly at the buttons like doing the same thing over and over would make the wrong button magically become the right one.

  "Let me," I said, smiling despite myself, over-the-moon to be in the normal world where the main concern was coffee machines not the immortal souls of every being on the planet and every person who would ever be. I'd much rather deal with modern coffee makers than that any day. I sorted it out then gave George a cuddle. "Missed you."

  "Missed you too. You didn't call, we were worried. You have to start being more responsible."

  "I will. Sorry."

  I made the drinks, happy to be doing it, then we sat at the table. I took a deep breath, realized something was missing so retrieved the bag and book from the puddle it was currently stewing in, and slammed it down on the table, making the mugs bounce and me fear for my table. Damn but it was heavy when it wanted to be.

  "What's in the bag?" asked Penelope. "Is it an artifact? Did the job go okay?"

  "You could say that. I got killed."

  "Arthur!"

  "Dad, you muppet."

  "In my defense, it was Vicky's fault."

  "Makes a change," said George as she raised her eyebrows, looking for moral support from Penelope.

  "Oi. Anyway, this isn't the artifact we were after, we didn't get it. This is something altogether different."

  George reached out to peek inside and I gently stopped her. "What is it?"

  "Best you don't touch it. Just in case," I warned.

  "In case of what?"

  "In case something horrible happens. It's the Death Book."

  "Shut up. Haha," laughed George.

  "What's the Death Book?" asked Penelope.

  "It's, you know, the book," offered George, raising an eyebrow at me, questioning if I was telling the truth.

  "Don't get it," said Penelope.

  "This is the book, the actual book, that has every human being's name in it. When you die, Death crosses out your name and then you go on your merry, or not so merry, way," I explained.

  "And you nicked it?" said George, shocked even though her dad had "borrowed" some pretty cool stuff over the years.

  "In a manner of speaking. I have some news for you. I'm Death. At least I was. For a while. Now I'm not, but then I was again for a moment, but don't worry, I think I sorted it. I'm
back now, and I plan on staying here. I need to sort a few things out and everything should be fine."

  "Arthur, what on earth are you talking about?"

  "Dad, you aren't making any sense. What did you do?"

  "I think I better begin at the beginning."

  So I did, and it took a while. Understandable, especially when you get interrupted every few seconds as Penelope had a hard time believing, really believing, what I was telling her. Again, understandable, as this was proper insider stuff, not for citizens to know.

  But I knew, God help me I knew.

  Now Penelope and George did too.

  "This is ridiculous," said Penelope. "Even if what you say is true—" she began.

  "It is."

  "Even if it is, it's not fair. You didn't know about the deal, about this contract thing, so you shouldn't be held to it."

  "Tell that to the invisible forces that govern the universe," I grumbled.

  "You were really Death?" asked George. I nodded glumly. "That is so cool."

  "Bloody freezing. Desolate, remote, horrible, cruel, uncaring, empty, scary, frigid, sad, depressing, and so very, very cruel. There was a boy. I don't want to talk about it though."

  "Maybe later, when you're ready," said Penelope, understanding.

  It made me love her even more. I couldn't lose her, I couldn't lose this. Not now. It was so perfect I wanted to cry.

  "And you took the book?" asked George.

  "Hey, what else was I supposed to do? Vicky was dead, I was dead, I was being forced to do something I had no memory of agreeing to. I don't think I ever agreed to it, I certainly don't remember. Sasha made a deal for me, I must have given the okay, but I don't remember."

  "That one's easy," said George.

  "Go on."

  "Deals like this, they come with a price."

  "You're telling me."

  "You would have agreed to it. I know you, Dad, and I know you are over-confident at times."