Death Sucks

by Andrew Mallen

  A goofy smile spread across his face at the thought.

  “Care to share?” Maria asked.

  “Just a memory,” Bobby lied.

  Maria didn’t buy it, but was content to let it go.

  *

  The old decrepit building that housed the FDNY’s training facilities suffered under an endless buffeting of wind from every direction. Unobstructed from the Atlantic to the south, Long Island Sound to the east and from the north by way of the Hudson River, the entire island was in a constant state of turmoil. Roger hated the place. Two weeks in he’d pissed off three of the four instructors and only because he hadn’t met the fourth one yet. He was definitely not a people person.

  “Be good!” Bobby screamed in Roger’s ear as he pushed the building’s heavy steel door aside.

  The wind caught it and slammed it against back into place with atomic force.

  “Easy Crenshaw!” The head instructor shouted after nearly pissing himself and spilling his coffee at the startling sound.

  “Fucking wind!” Roger shouted.

  “Yeah, it’s brand new right? You do it every fucking day Crenshaw!” Rooney roared, the veins under the taunt skin of his muscular neck were bulging.

  Crew cut, clean shaven, shirt double tucked (once into his pants and again into his tightly laced tactical boots), Roger hated the type. He should’ve considered that before joining the Navy years ago. It would’ve saved him a lot of unnecessary pain and suffering and six months in Federal prison for assaulting an officer before being unceremoniously discharged. “You should be used to it then ya’know?” he snapped back.

  “Why don’t you do us all a great big favor Crenshaw, why don’t you throw yourself in the river? Pick one, anyone and just jump in. We’ll save you, I promise,” Rooney growled as he marched toward him, his three sizes too small, FDNY issued shirt clung to every muscle of his swollen physique.

  “You stay up late thinking of that one?” Roger strolled passed him without as much as glancing at the infuriated man.

  Rooney clenched his meaty fists as he tried to control his unvented anger. “Five demerits Crenshaw,” he snarled, it was his only weapon.

  “Class didn’t start yet,” Roger protested.

  “My class, my rules.”

  “I didn’t realize you owned the place,” Roger pushed.

  “I do. Everything you see is mine.”

  “Could use a little paint bro and the landscaping looks like shit. Plus, and I hate to be the one to tell you this, you got rats dude, gross.”

  “Crenshaw,” Rooney growled.

  “Take it easy Rooney,” another instructor intervened before it got out of hand. “Leave the guy alone and go grab a fresh cup of coffee or something. It’s way too early for this bullshit.”

  “Why does he do it?” Maria asked, exasperated by the exchange.

  “Guy’s a tool. Roger is too. Bad mix,” Bobby tried to seem unfazed but he knew if Roger kept poking this particular bear he was going to get bit.

  “Say something,” Maria insisted.

  “Chill out!” Bobby roared in Roger’s ear.

  *

  Roger didn’t make it into the top half of the class but was tickled, as were his caretakers, to graduate as lucky number thirteen. At the graduation families and friends surrounded the newly decorated EMT’s for well-deserved praise and obligatory photos. Not a living soul showed up for Roger but the dead did, and they were a lot happier and a whole lot prouder than anyone with a pulse.

  Rooney got his revenge by way of Roger’s station assignment. The south Bronx. It had the worst crime rate in all the five boroughs of New York City. Chock full of hookers and crackheads, gangsters and drug dealers, it was an all-you-could-eat buffet of overdoses, gunshot wounds, stabbings and worse.

  And that is why you don’t poke the bear Roger.

  “Fuck me,” Roger groaned as he reread the sheet hoping the words would change. “I didn’t agree to this shit.”

  “Uh oh,” Maria groaned.

  “It’s ok, we’ll deal with it.” Bobby didn’t like it either but at least it wouldn’t be boring.

  “They want me to start tomorrow night. Fuck me!” Roger was mining bad news like a 49er with a new pick.

  “Big turnout Mr. Popular,” Rooney swooped in behind him, a wicked smile on his puffy, red face.

  Roger visibly shrunk. Rooney was out for last licks. Folding the assignment sheet and sliding into his pants pocket Roger gave Rooney a very fake smile and said something that startled everyone, “Thank you for teaching me so much. Sorry if I was a pain in the ass. Good luck in the future, sir.”

  Roger held out his hand.

  Rooney, shocked pale, shook it suspiciously. Roger turned and walked away once the customary three pumps were complete.

  “Be careful up there,” Rooney had finally fought through the confusion.

  “Thanks, I will,” Roger replied and waved without turning.

  “Tell him I’m proud. Tell him I’m very, very proud of him,” Maria bounced along beside Roger like a kid with a new balloon.

  “In the car,” Bobby didn’t want to yell and he really, really wanted to congratulate Roger, not just for graduating but for ignoring Rooney’s bait and being the better man.

  “Ok, let’s hurry,” Maria agreed as she skipped across the busy parking lot.

  Bobby smiled, his plan was working. Tomorrow was the beginning of everything.

  12.

  “Leonard Riddle,” the skinny guy held out his hand as he said it.

  “Holy shit! Holy fucking shit! It’s you!” Roger cried in utter amazement.

  “Yep, it sure is,” Lenny smiled at his new partner thinking at least the big guy was enthusiastic.

  “Dude, you saved my life! You’re the guy! You’re the guy!” Roger clapped like a game show contestant who just won the grand prize before the realization that paying the taxes weren’t part of the deal.

  “What? I’m sorry but I think you might have the wrong guy, Roger right?” Lenny’s confusion was understandable, Roger was fifty pounds lighter, clean shaven, sober and extremely bugged out at meeting his savior.

  “No way dude! Fort Totten, like a year and a half ago. I was out…ah, fishing and my boat went down. I drowned, the Coast Guard found me the handed me off to you guys and you…you…you never quit on me dude! You brought me back bro!”

  The feeble self-control Roger commanded shattered, he rushed Lenny and embraced him like a long lost lover.

  Engulfed in the big man’s arms Lenny had no choice but to let him have his way with him. Roger had him by a foot and a half and at least seventy-five pounds. He actually didn’t mind, it wasn’t everyday he met a grateful customer. He searched his memory for the encounter worthy of such gratitude. He’d only been to that corner of Queens a few times, usually joggers with chest pains or fisherman with busted legs from falling on the jetty. Fishing was the hint he needed, he was currently in the arms of the fisherman stupid enough to brave a Nor’easter. The guy hugging him was the guy who drowned, the guy he’d zapped too many times and the reason he was now working the ass-end of the Bronx instead of Queens.

  Roger stepped back uncomfortably once the excitement had passed. “Sorry,” he mumbled realizing what a fool he looked like.

  “The fisherman. I remember,” Lenny admitted.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” Roger held out his hand for a more traditional introduction and Lenny took it.

  “This is bugging me out a little, how…what are you doing here?” Lenny tried to connect the dots.

  “Karma dude, I guess. Whatever, it doesn’t matter but it’s crazy weird, ya’know?” Roger wisely left out the part where he was taking the advice of a sexy Angel and a friendly Reaper.

  “Wild dude but let’s roll out so we’re not on display here,” Lenny looked around the bustling garage as the other crews geared up for their shift. “Roger Crenshaw, that’s you. Lenny Riddle, that’s me. Wagon 85, that’s us, let’s roll partner.”r />
  “Awesome!” Roger was happier than the dead had ever seen him as he bounced along behind Lenny toward the ambulance marked 85.

  “I think he’s really happy. I think he really wanted this or needed it,” Bobby shared his thoughts.

  “I agree but why fight so hard then?” Maria asked.

  “Fear maybe, I don’t think our boy is brimming with confidence. Probably no one ever believed in him or pushed him before. He’ll change, he already has I think. New life, new friends, new outlook, new Roger,” Bobby replied and hoped he wasn’t overselling it.

  “I hope so.”

  “Me too girl, me too.”

  *

  Fast friends were slow as shit compared to Roger and Lenny. Surprisingly, to Maria anyway, Lenny wasn’t much of a socialite. A fellow gamer, a fellow bachelor, a fellow only child and a fellow social reject, the two had a lot in common and a lot to talk about. Life stories were exchanged over McDonald’s coffee on the shoulder of the Bruckner Expressway not an hour after their introduction. Roger smartly omitted the parts that would have made him sound like a madman. Lenny omitted nothing. When he told Roger he was gay, his new partner surprised both of them and the dead eavesdroppers with his response, “Cool.”

  “Cool?”

  “Well, yeah. I never had a gay friend before,” Roger shrugged.

  Lenny had experienced too many bad reactions from his partners over the years. It was the reason so many of them transferred out although the FDNY would never admit to it or to granting the requests because of it. Roger was definitely a refreshing change. Lenny smiled bright and wide, “Well now you do.”

  “Now I do,” Roger smiled right back.

  Gay or straight, Lenny was the nicest guy he ever met. What he liked or didn’t like, who he loved, none of that made the slightest difference in Roger’s book. A harsh bleep from the dash mounted, two-way radio interrupted their conversation. It was the first call of the night and Roger’s first call ever.

  “Hunts Point, corner of Craven and Oak Point. Possible stab wound. NYPD in route,” the voice from the radio blared.

  Lenny tossed the coffee out the window, popped the wagon into gear and roared out into traffic with the lights flashing, the tires squealing and sirens blasting.

  “Holy shit!” Roger shouted, fueled by excitement and fear.

  “Hang on rookie, we going for a ride!” Lenny cried out in an oddly accented high pitched squeal.

  “Okay short round!” Roger laughed, he knew every line of every Indiana Jones flick.

  “Shit yeah!” Lenny roared with matching delight, no one had ever gotten the reference before.

  “Wahoo!” Roger hollered out the window as if he was on a roller coaster.

  *

  Maria and Bobby bounced around the back of the ambulance like clothes in a dryer. Maria smiled like a mental patient despite the rough treatment, “He’s already made a new friend, a real friend.”

  “A fellow freak.”

  “Bobby, can’t you just be nice?” she groaned but couldn’t replace the smile she wore.

  “No, it’s great, I mean it,” he didn’t want to piss in her soup. “I’m glad our boy’s happy, let’s just hope he doesn’t fuck it up.”

  “Such a downer….you’re a real ‘Debbie Downer’ Bobby,” She replied and rolled her eyes as Lenny took a turn like Bo Duke.

  *

  “I lead, you follow,” Lenny broke down what he expected from Roger as they pulled onto the scene. “Grab the crash bag, the big red one, it’s got everything we need. Glove up bro.”

  Roger did as he was told without question or comment.

  No cops were at the intersection when they arrived but a small crowd of cheap and scantily dressed women were huddled around a dumpster next to a 24-hour bodega.

  “Step aside ladies,” Lenny commanded as he approached them.

  They listened. The wall of fishnets, cleavage, overexposed muffin tops, bad wigs and worse make-ep parted leaving only a cloud of cigarette smoke and bad perfume as they retreated to their assigned section of sidewalk in hopes a potential customer might ignore the flashing lights and scoop them up for a ten dollar quickie.

  “Shit,” Lenny didn’t like what he found.

  “You okay? What is it?” Roger was right on his heels and the dead were on his.

  “Female, 30 to 35 years old, signs of intravenous drug use, massive blood loss from several puncture wounds to the abdomen and pelvis,” Lenny replied robotically as he examined the blood soaked woman for any other injuries. “Lolli, you with us hon?”

  “Yeah…..still here,” the woman smiled weakly at Lenny, they weren’t strangers.

  Lolli looked thirty going on eighty. Encased in a thick layer of hooker-blue eye shadow, her eyes were wide with terror. Skinny, the kind of skinny you get out of needles and glass pipes, her bony frame was fortified against the cold by nothing more than a purple tube top, a pink leopard print mini-skirt and red, vinyl knee-high boots.

  “How’d this happen babe?” Lenny asked as he cut away her threadbare top to reveal deep wounds that gushed with every beat of her heart. “Compression pads, the big ones. We gotta stop the bleeding before we can move her.”

  “Guy starts acting funny so I tell him to beat it. Motherfucker freaks because I wouldn’t do him for eight bucks and follows me out of his car and starts yelling and losing his shit. I didn’t see the knife. I didn’t feel it either until I saw the blood but…” a wet cough stifled the rest of her story.

  “It’s okay Lolli, we got you,” Lenny took her pulse, it wasn’t good and he gave Roger a look that told the whole story without a word.

  Roger handed Lenny everything he asked for as he fought to save the dying woman.

  “Lolli? Come on Lolli, stay with us!” Lenny was beginning to panic. “Come on hon, come on, fight! We’re losing her! Hurry, grab the paddles out of the wagon!”

  In the unfolding chaos Bobby almost missed the portal that opened in the middle of the intersection. Had a gypsy cab not honked his horn at a hooker he found worthy of the compliment he would have.

  “Look,” he hissed to Maria who spun just in time to see a Reaper step through the torn fabric of reality.

  “Should we hide?” she asked fearfully.

  Bobby liked the idea. “We better, come on,” he said and led her around to the far side of the overflowing dumpster.

  “She’s not dead yet,” Maria whispered.

  Bobby nodded but was too zoned in on the approaching Reaper to speak.

  “If she’s not dead yet then he or she shouldn’t be here,” Maria didn’t think Bobby understood the implication. “Nobody’s supposed to be here until the soul is free.”

  Bobby nodded again, it wasn’t news, he’d been telling her about it for months. He stared at the Reaper who stood casually beside Roger waiting to claim his prize.

  “Bobby, we have to do something. He’s breaking the Laws,” Maria nudged him.

  For a brief moment Bobby was warm and his mind filled with light at the Angels touch. “What?” he cried when the brief relapse passed.

  “It’s early, it’s cheating,” Maria hissed.

  “It? Really?” he’d never been referred to as an ‘it’ before and he wasn’t a fan.

  “I can’t tell with the robes,” Maria growled. “We have to stop…it.”

  “No way!” Bobby snapped. “No way, you can’t go out there, he’ll kill you.”

  “But Lolli?”

  “Listen I get it, I do, but we gotta let this play out. We gotta, it’s why we’re here,” Bobby insisted desperately. “This isn’t about just one girl, this is about all of them, all they’ve stolen, each and every person that was never given a chance.”

  “We have to do something!” Maria cried even though she knew the Reaper was right.

  “We wait until the Angel shows up. We watch and if we can we’ll try to help but we can’t fight every Reaper for every soul. We’re here to watch, to investigate, to gather evidence, not
to save them, not yet anyway.”

  “I hate it.”

  “Me too,” Bobby knew she was serious, she’d never used the ‘h’ word before.

  *

  Roger tore ass back to his partner with the defibrillator. The drama was over, Lolli was dead. Lenny sat beside her with his head in his bloody hands. “Mark the time partner, she’s gone,” he said without looking up.

  Lolli stood up from where her body lay sprawled on the dirty, cold sidewalk. She patted her hip in search of the pack of Newports she kept there but came up empty. “Hey, you got a smoke?” she asked the Reaper who watched her like a hawk.

  He didn’t answer.

  “What are you staring at?” Lolli asked.

  “A dead hooker,” The Reaper replied and pointed with his free hand to the body at her feet.

  Lolli followed his finger and screamed when she recognized the butchered woman lying in the widening pool of blood.

  “Come on,” the Reaper reached out and grabbed Lolli’s broomstick thin arm as she struggled to make sense of what was going on.

  “Get the fuck off me!” she screeched and began swatting at the Reaper as he dragged her into the street.

  “Shut up bitch!” it roared. “You earned it so shut that cock hole in your face and have a little fucking dignity.”

  “Fuck you! No way! Fuck this!” Lolli beat frantically at the Reaper’s grip but it did nothing to loosen it.

  The Reaper whispered to his scythe, swiped a hole in reality and dragged Lolli, kicking and screaming, inside.

  Maria burst from Bobby’s side and sprinted toward the portal, screaming like a madwoman as she went. Bobby couldn’t follow her, he couldn’t be seen, he couldn’t risk everything he’d done so far and he hated himself for it.

  “Too late bitch!” the Reaper shouted as the portal closed between them.

  Maria let loose a cry of such sadness that Bobby felt it in his guts. He stood to go to her, to comfort her, but a bright flash sent him scurrying back behind the putrid container of trash before he managed one step.

  Two Angels stood in the intersection studying each other silently.

  “Hi, I’m Maria,” she introduced herself.