Becoming Death

by Melissa Brown

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” I said.

  Chapter 6

  The metal fence was rusty and bent and the brickwork of the factory had started to crumble into red dust, dyeing the surrounding sidewalk a brownish shade. An angry sign hung on the fence. It read: “Danger, keep out.” I had to have the address wrong. Why would they hold our classes here? I wandered along the exterior looking for any signs of life… or afterlife. I thought about phoning Clarissa, but she had already made it plain to me that the location of my class was the only information she was allowed to share with me.

  I walked past another gate when I noticed it didn’t match the fences around it. It was made of gray steel and looked like it had been recently installed. There was a piece of yellow paper taped to the door. The words “This way” were written on it.

  Checking around me, I pushed open the latch and swung the gate open. Still surprised that it had opened, I stepped inside and closed the gate behind me. There was still a chance this wasn’t where my class was being held and I was walking inside a crack den or an evil villain’s hideout.

  I could see it now. Skye Hawke’s arch nemesis, Riga Tony, taking a long drag from his cigar before barking orders at his henchman that some broad had found their secret hideout and to take her out. I’d hear them coming and duck behind a tree to instantly change into my grim reaper robe. As they approached me with machine guns, I’d jump out of the shadows taking a superhero pose as… Dead Girl! They’d fire bullets at me, but I’d knock them away with my scythe. The scythe would then act as a boomerang as it sliced through their gun barrels, making them useless. The cronies would beg for their lives. My powers would shoot from my fingertips, blinding them with a black smoke. They’d choke on it, rendering them unconscious until the police came. Riga Tony would run away, vowing revenge next time.

  I giggled to myself, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. After all, I hadn’t brought my robe and wasn’t really sure if grim reapers used scythes. I wandered around the exterior of the factory looking for my next clue. I was relieved to find a second piece of paper stuck to another door that led inside the factory. The paper read: “Take the stairs to the second floor. Room eight.”

  Making a mental note of the number, I opened the door to find an huge space with various machines scattered around it; giant mixers, blades and conveyer belts surrounded me. A mob boss could do some serious torture here. The fluorescent light bulbs buzzing overhead flickered. I flew up the stairs to the second floor like I was being chased in a horror movie. The whole building was eerily quiet and I wondered if I should just turn around and leave. I didn’t want a repeat of last time, with smoke-filled rooms and freaky monsters choosing me as their minion. I pulled my keys out of my bag and held them in a defensive stance before opening the door to room eight with my other hand.

  A classroom of around ten people greeted me on the other side. There were no flames, no smoke. Just plain white walls, plastic desks and an old fashioned blackboard.

  A woman with a stern bun and glasses met me at the door while holding a clipboard. “Name?”

  “Madison Clark. I’m not sure if I’m in the right place.”

  “Do you normally go skulking around abandoned buildings?” the woman asked.

  “No.”

  “Then you’re in the right place.” She made a checkmark on her list. “Please have a seat. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

  I walked past her and stopped at the first desk I came to. I looked at the years-old graffiti carved into the plastic table and took the empty seat next to another girl. She was a little older than me, with dark skin, dread-locked purple hair and multiple piercings in her ears and nose. Her eyes were buried in a book of poetry but as I sat down she lowered the book.

  “I’m Becca,” she said, extending her hand. “Is this as weird for you as it is for me?”

  I nodded. “I expected more flames.”

  She laughed.

  “I’m Madison. I assume you’re newly called as well?” I asked her.

  “About two weeks ago. I’m getting kind of antsy to get started already. I just want to know what this whole thing is about,” she told me.

  “Not me. If I could have avoided coming I totally would have. I don’t really want anything to do with this whole grim reaper business, but my mom says I don’t have a choice.”

  “Yeah, we’re stuck. Apparently, one of my cousins tried to wuss out last year and I never heard from him again,” she said.

  “Yeah, something similar happened in my family too, to my uncle.”

  “It’s too bad. I don’t really need another course right now. I’m already doing English lit at State. All I need is another distraction from my homework. You in school?”

  “Nope, I’m a dropout. I gave it a semester, it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t even decide on a major.”

  She picked up her book again. “Well, English lit sucks.”

  “Noted.”

  The door creaked open again to reveal a blonde girl wearing a sundress that seemed molded to her figure and carrying a designer handbag. I recognized her immediately.

  “Name?” asked the teacher.

  “Tiara Simmons” I mouthed at the same time the girl spoke. The most popular girl at Juniper Bay high. The girl that had made my last year of high school a living hell.

  The teacher’s eyes lit up. “Oh my, Miss Simmons, it’s a honor to meet you. I’ve been teaching your family for years. Your father was one of my first students. Please have a seat.”

  Tiara smiled giving the class a half-hearted beauty queen wave. I wanted to throw up.

  “I know her,” I told Becca.

  “Is she a friend of yours?”

  I shook my head. “More like enemy.”

  Tiara scanned the room. Her ruby heels hammered the floor as she walked to the only empty desk, next to me. I turned towards her, deciding to be the bigger person and forgive her for years of torment. “Tiara, you’re a reaper too?”

  “Of course I am, nerd. I didn’t think you could get any more stupid, but there you go surprising me again.” She tilted her head, rolling her eyes.

  “Excuse me?”

  She sighed, heavily. “Just stay away from me. Your level of patheticness is probably contagious. Just cause you know my name doesn’t give you permission to speak to me. We are not friends, loser,” she said, turning away to unpacked her bag.

  I looked at Becca and she mouthed the word jerk.

  The teacher set down her clipboard and stood at the front of the room. “Hello, I’m Ms. Winters. I’d like to welcome you to Reaping 101. I’ll be your teacher over the next few weeks of your training. I’ve been a reaper for the last twenty years and should be able to answer any questions you may have. Will everyone please take out their handbook and turn to page one.”

  I pulled out my copy of the handbook, smoothing the corners of the crushed pages.

  “Today we will be covering the basics of your new volunteer roles as grim reapers, precautions to be aware of and some tools to make your job easier. We will cover the remaining sections of the handbook next week,” she continued.

  I still couldn’t believe I was here, and with Tiara of all people. I glared at her. What were the chances? With everyone else focused on Ms. Winters, I pinched the skin of my wrist. Yes, I was awake—this wasn’t a nightmare. I took a few moments to look upwards and scan the ceiling for hidden cameras. I still wasn’t convinced this whole thing wasn’t an elaborate practical joke. Nope. I must really be living in bizarro world.

  The teacher adjusted her glasses and held her own copy of the handbook at arm’s length. “Before we begin, is there anyone that has not studied their handbook yet?”

  I slumped in my desk. Damn it, I knew there was something I was supposed to do. I glanced down at my book and flipped through the pages quickly. The teacher directed her gaze at me, so I smoothed my book back to page one. I could wing this, it’d be fine. I always learned better by doing anyway.


  “Good. Becoming a grim reaper is a strange yet exciting change for many of you. I would bet the first thing on all of your minds is soul extraction. Don’t worry, it’s simpler than you think. Tiara, why don’t you explain the process to our inexperienced reapers.”

  “Gladly.” Tiara turned in her chair to face the rest of the class. “Correct soul extraction is accomplished when a grim reaper touches their intended client’s bare skin. Once the reaper touches them, they should feel a strong chill down their back and their victim should lose color in their skin. If they reaper wills it, they can choose to influence the death or leave it up to chance.”

  “Excellent, your parents have taught you well,” the teacher said. “Could someone else tell me what happens if you don’t influence a death?”

  Becca waved her hand. “Death will be random, most likely resulting in a heart attack.”

  “Correct. Now please be aware you should all take special precautions with any victims over the age of sixty. Make the death look as natural as possible. Any questions so far?”

  I raised my hand. “Umm… I understand how we take the souls, but what confuses me is how we stop from looking suspicious. If someone saw us couldn’t they figure it out?” I asked.

  “Madison has raised an important point. Where possible, you should try to take your souls in a private setting. If this is not possible, you have the option to use your obfuscation to aid you.”

  “Obfuscation?” I asked.

  “Your ability to obscure your presence around the living,” the teacher said. “Madison, I would highly suggest you review all the terminology from your handbook before our next class.”

  “Sorry, I must have forgotten. I’ll read through it again tonight.”

  “As I was saying, obfuscation is a useful tool to assist you in avoiding contact with your victims before their soul extraction. Under no circumstances should you try to form any relationship with your current or past clients. Any reckless behavior will be punished and second chances will not be given.” Ms. Winters narrowed her eyes.

  The way she said it made it seem like disobeying and being punished was an everyday thing for reapers. I imagined Death throwing me into a lava pit, fully aware it wouldn’t kill me straightaway.

  “I’d like to take a few minutes to go through some of the tools available for you. First of all you have your handbook. The other tool that you might find useful is the Dead Head app that will have downloaded itself automatically onto your devices. The app contains ‘link to victim’ mapping services, an e-reader version of the handbook, the reaper tip of the day, an online forum and copies of your R1P forms—these are required to be sent in monthly, in both electronic and hard copies for each victim. You will receive alerts from Death's secretarial team regularly and will be expected to mark your victims within the allotted time frame.”

  I looked at my phone and saw the new addition. The word “victim” echoed in my brain. They were really training us to be killers.

  Chapter 7

  I didn’t notice the notification on my phone at first. The box was black and the letters red. It simply read: New Client. Click here for more information. My finger hovered over the link. Part of me was eager to get my first death over with, but the rest of me wanted to ignore the message. Maybe if I pretended I hadn’t seen it, it wouldn’t matter. We could skip that person’s death and give them another twenty years of good health. Technical errors had to happen sometimes, reapers missing their client because they downloaded the wrong information or didn’t receive it.

  I set the phone down and switched off the screen. I continued typing up my latest story.

  Skye was sure he was staring at her again.

  “What is it, do I have food in my teeth?” Skye asked, brushing her front teeth with her finger.

  “To be honest, I was trying to remember what you looked like in that towel,” Ethan teased her in his heavy French accent.

  Skye started to roll her eyes but instead decided to play along. “What about it?”

  “It was a very short towel. I’d never noticed how long your legs were before.”

  “I’m not even that tall,” Skye blurted out, rising onto her tiptoes as she stood up from the table.

  “You should show them off more. Maybe in a mini skirt or a little black dress.”

  “I never have any reason for wearing anything like that,” she explained.

  “Well if you need an excuse, I’d be happy to take you out to dinner. This Saturday any good for you?”

  Skye pinched her lips together. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

  His hand brushed against her bare knee. “What do I have to gain from lying? Your reaction to the truth is much more fun.”

  My train of thought was broken as the messaged alert sounded again and blinked on my screen. My eyes darted around the room. How had he known? Frowning, I jammed my finger at the screen. A breath held in my chest as the screen loaded.

  A passport sized photo greeted me. It was a woman with blonde hair in a tight ponytail and serious green eyes. I scrolled down.

  Name: Elizabeth Daily

  Age: 25

  Current location: 381 Peach Lane, Juniper Bay

  That was all I got? I winced at her age. She was so young. Weren’t most of my victims supposed to be closer to retirement age? I stared at her photo. Three days left. I looked up toward the ceiling. “You suck.”

  I turned on my laptop and typed her name and Juniper Bay into a search engine. Within a few moments I found her online profile at the top of my page begging me to click on it. I pressed the mouse button and watched the profile load. Her icon was a selfie taken in front of a treadmill.

  Her first status read: Finally reached my goal weight. Yay. #Donuts are evil.

  I scrolled down to see her earlier posts.

  Two months to go until my Alaskan cruise.

  Still pining over hot gym guy. At least he’s finally single. #Abs.

  I slumped in my chair and laid my head on the desk. How was I supposed to do this?

  “Are you okay?” a voice asked from behind me.

  I turned my chair to find Aaron leaning against the door frame behind me.

  “Umm… yeah, of course. Just really tired,” I said, standing up to block my laptop screen.

  He wrinkled his nose at me. “Seriously, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good. Are you getting sick?”

  I had three days to hunt down and kill somebody. That was not going to have me dancing in the street. “Well, there’s this mean girl in my accounting class who’s been flirting with the guy I like. I guess I’m just feeling a little jealous.”

  He slipped his hands into his pockets. “So who is this guy? What’s he like?”

  “Drew… I think. I haven’t really had a chance to talk to him much.” I rubbed my wrist. “It’s just a little crush.”

  “Well, if you don’t know much about this guy, maybe you should take a step back for a while,” he blurted out, his cheeks turning red. “Let the other girl flirt with him. If he likes you, he’ll come around. Best to ignore him until he makes up his mind. Guys aren’t that great at showing their feelings.”

  I tilted my head. “You’re probably right. I don’t want to come on too strong.”

  “Yeah, you don’t want to scare him away. Ignoring him will make him more interested. You’ll be mysterious—he won’t know if you’re available or already have a boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. What was I thinking?” I said, nudging him towards the door. “Thanks for the advice.”

  Aaron stopped in front of me and looked me in the eye. Could he tell I was lying? The room was quiet, and for the first time ever I had butterflies in my stomach in front of my best friend.

  “I should really get back to my homework. I’ve got to come up with my own sample accounts,” I said, placing my hands in my pockets and rocking on the balls of my feet.

  “Want some help? I’m bored,” he said, walking past me to my laptop.<
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  Panicked, I elbowed him and slammed the screen closed. “That’s private.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me and stepped back.

  “You’re not really doing homework, are you? Please tell me you aren’t cyber stalking that guy?”

  My eyes bounced between him and the laptop. “No, but you can’t just come in here and go through my things. I need my privacy sometimes.”

  Wounded, he held a hand up and took a step back. “I’m just trying to help you. There’s no reason to blow up at me. What are you doing that’s so private anyway?”

  I wrapped an arm around my waist as my eyes glazed over. “Aaron, please. It’s really none of your business.”

  “Fine, forget it.” He threw his hands up in the air. “By the way, Marcus fixed your car for free. He’ll drop it off later,” he said before he rushed out of my room and slammed his bedroom door behind him.

  I sunked back into my computer chair and flipped open the screen. Elizabeth’s profile picture stared back at me. I held my forehead. How was I supposed to keep this a secret?

  The next day Clarissa came with me to kill Elizabeth Daily. Armed with the Dead Head app, we trailed her to the gym she had mentioned on her profile page. I sat in the car for ages gripping the steering wheel and staring at the gym. Was I really ready for this? One night class and I’d become a murderer over night.

  “Take your time,” Clarissa said, filing her nails in the seat next to me. “You need to be ready. There are no second chances.”

  I held my stomach as I looked at my sister, who was cheery and completely stress free. How could we both be faced with the same terrible job? “I don’t know if I can actually do this.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” she said, blowing on her nails. “Everyone gets nervous their first time but it’s a piece of cake.” She carefully reached across the car and patted my knee. “No, mistakes, little sis.”