Reaping Havoc

by AJ Rose

  Mitch shushed them.

  “… said before, we are not releasing names of those involved until their relatives have been notified.” Boomer’s impatience was palpable.

  “Is it true Nathan Koehn has been an employee of this resort since the beginning of the season?” the same reporter doggedly pressed.

  Nate banged his head back on the pillow, glaring at the ceiling. “How did they fucking know?”

  “They’re reporters,” Wes answered. “They’ll do whatever it takes to sensationalize a story, and your name attracts website clicks.”

  There were a couple more questions Nate didn’t pay as much attention to, and the screen turned back to the lone reporter in front of the lodge. “A source with the resort, who wishes to remain anonymous, has confirmed the number of fatalities is in the double digits, and as many as thirty people could have been on or near the areas affected by the avalanches. They wouldn’t speculate as to the identities, though they did confirm they’re searching for locals as well as visitors.”

  The anchor back in the studio came up on a split screen with the on-location reporter. “Dan, has there been any confirmation one of the victims could have been Nathan Koehn?”

  “Sarah, there has been no specific confirmation from the resort staff, but our team has done a little digging and learned that Koehn did not return to Dartmouth for the beginning of his senior year, just five months after his sister, Tatum Koehn, also a US Ski Team Olympic alternate, was tragically killed in a skiing accident at Bretton Woods in New Hampshire. A friend of Koehn’s from Dartmouth told us he thought Koehn had moved to ‘somewhere in Colorado’ but wasn’t able to say for certain.”

  “Oh, now they’re just pulling all kinds of shit out of their asses,” Nate bitched.

  “Well, Dan, if Koehn has indeed been caught up in these avalanches at Caperville Mountain Resort, that would be a tragedy for the Koehn family and the ski world at large.”

  “Yes, Sarah. Our thoughts and prayers are definitely with the Koehn family, and with all the loved ones of the victims of this disaster.”

  The studio anchor’s picture once again took up the entire screen. “We will bring you more of this breaking news story as information becomes available. Today in Washington D.C., Congress….”

  Mitch clicked the TV off.

  “I probably ought to warn hospital security to keep an eye out for the vultures,” Wes said. “And call the station to get an officer posted at your door.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Mitch agreed, rubbing Nate’s good shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, okay? There’s nothing you can do anyway.”

  “Because that’s reassuring,” Nate complained. But there was no bite to his words. The pain medication was beginning to kick in, and the edges of the world were going fuzzy. The familiar muffled feeling began to creep into his hearing, and he closed his eyes.

  “Get some rest, buddy,” Wes said, standing and shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “I’ve got a hockey game I wanna watch next weekend and a couch with your name on it.”

  “Only if there’s beer,” Nate said, keeping his eyes closed.

  “Not if you’re still on drugs,” Wes countered. “Take it easy, and I’ll come by and see you tomorrow if they haven’t sprung you.”

  “Yeah,” was all Nate could manage. His eyes were too heavy to open, and he was fading fast.

  “Do you need anything?” Mitch asked when it was just the two of them.

  “You to stay with me tonight?”

  “I don’t know if they’ll let me,” Mitch said uncertainly.

  With the last bit of his energy, Nate pressed the nurse’s call button. A disembodied voice came through the speaker, asking what they could do to help.

  “Can my boyfriend sleep here?”

  “Of course. We’ll bring in some bedding and a pillow.”

  A great shiver bounced along his bones like fingers playing a skeletal piano, and though the pain medicine dulled the hurt to a low ache, his ribs still protested. He wanted to turn on his side, but his shoulder wouldn’t allow it.

  “Don’t go,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t sure if he managed to say it aloud.

  Mitch threaded his fingers through Nate’s hair. “Sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

  “We’re still talking about all this,” Nate warned even as he drifted off.

  * * *

  A parade of doctors and nurses woke him early the next morning to check his core body temperature and administer another dose of pain medication. One of the doctors wanted to take him for another brain scan to verify the lack of oxygen he’d suffered hadn’t adversely affected his gray matter, so he knew if he were getting out that day, it wouldn’t be until later. True to his word, Wes had gotten a patrol officer stationed outside his door, and he heard a commotion shortly after being brought a paltry breakfast of watery eggs, barely toasted bread, and coffee, which he ignored. His headache from the previous night hadn’t subsided much.

  “What’s going on?” Nate mumbled in Mitch’s general direction.

  “Someone’s here to see you. The officer is verifying their identity.”

  Dread pierced Nate’s gut, and he wished he hadn’t bothered with breakfast. Pressing the button to raise him into a higher sitting position, he waited, and sure enough, his suspicions were quickly confirmed.

  “Oh, honey.” His mother rushed to his side and smoothed his hair back to drop a kiss on his forehead. Against his will, comfort stole over him. He knew better than to think she would make it all better, since she hadn’t in years if it went against his father’s wishes, but it was visceral and unstoppable. “We left home as soon as your friend Wes called.”

  “You didn’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

  “Of course we’d come!” she protested. “You’re our son.”

  He ignored that, looking behind her to his father’s somber face. “Dad.”

  “Nate,” his father greeted.

  “Mitch, these are my parents, Kristen and Samuel Koehn.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Kristen said, tentatively extending her hand to Mitch. “Are you a friend? Boyfriend?” She faltered in her uncertainty, but Nate knew it wasn’t because he was gay. They’d never had an issue with his sexuality.

  “Boyfriend,” Mitch said politely. He then shook Samuel’s hand.

  Samuel said nothing, looking grim though not unfriendly.

  “What have the doctors said?” Kristin asked.

  He went through the litany of injuries and expectations, and both his parents nodded, solemn and attentive. It seemed normal enough, but he knew the admonitions would start any minute. They didn’t disappoint him.

  “Do you know how worried we’ve been?” Samuel said with a frown. “And to have a police officer call us! Your mother nearly had a heart attack. Why would you do this to us?”

  Nate snorted. “Because I got caught in an avalanche on purpose just to spite you, right?”

  “Nate, honey, you know that’s not what your father is saying.”

  He bit his tongue on what he wanted to say. “Wes is my friend and neighbor. His job wouldn’t matter if he were an accountant or lawyer, would it?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. I’m only saying it’s quite a scary thing when the police call you from another state to discuss your son being in a skiing accident.” Samuel had a point, but Nate would be damned if he’d concede to it.

  Mitch squeezed his shoulder as if he could read Nate’s mind, the touch carrying a hint of censure beneath the heavy layer of support.

  “Wes is Nate’s emergency contact,” Mitch explained, as if that made it all better.

  Kristen’s eyes flicked back and forth between them. “So you haven’t been dating long? I mean, not that I’m assuming anything. Just not long enough for you to be his emergency contact.”

  Mitch favored her with a disarming smile. “We met in October, so only a couple of months.”

  Awkward silence descended, and in his head, Nate counte
d the seconds before it started.

  “Have you gotten it all out of your system yet?” Samuel broke the impasse.

  “Nope.”

  “Nate,” Kristen said in that soothing, placating voice Nate hated most as she sat on the bed and put a hand on his knee. “We just don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

  “Including having a life,” he retorted.

  Ignoring that, Kristen went on. “It’s been hard on all of us since….”

  “Tate died,” he finished. In the flurry of activity over the past twenty-four hours, he hadn’t given much thought to his sister and how she was reacting to his accident. God, what kind of brother was he? But he knew that was just the same old bullshit, a side effect of being near his parents. Tate had hated the pressure as much as he had, and even if she’d been scared for him, she never would have told him to stay off the mountain because it was safer. “Yeah, it’s been hard on all of us. She was your daughter, but she was my twin. We did everything together. You lost a kid, but I lost a limb. She was part of me in a way you could never understand.”

  “And you’re not a parent,” Samuel threw at him. “You have no idea what it’s like to see them come into the world, take their first breath, and you’re responsible for their very being, then watch them take their last breath because you didn’t do enough to keep them safe.”

  Nate exploded. “But you didn’t watch her last breath. You had to leave the room,” he spat. “I was there when her heart stopped. When her lungs didn’t fill back up. You weren’t supposed to keep us safe. You were supposed to support us in figuring out the kind of life we wanted. Not the one you wanted for us.”

  “How is it wrong to want what’s best for our children?” Kristen asked, pleading as she always did.

  “You forgot to take into account what made us happy. You hardly get to pull the safety card when you’re the ones who put us on skis in the first place. Why’d you even teach us how to ski if you were so scared of it?”

  “We’re proud of what you and your sister accomplished.” Kristen tried a different tactic. “But the more competitive you got, the more we realized the danger we’d put you in.”

  “It’s no different from football or hockey,” Nate countered, though it was an old argument. “You know what? I’m not doing this again. You brought us into this world, but we should get to say how we live in it and how we leave it. As horrible as Tate dying was, she went doing something she loved. I tell myself that every day, that at least she didn’t have a heart attack sitting behind a desk at some soul-sucking job or in a car crash during a daily commute she fucking hated.”

  “Language!” Kristen gasped.

  “That’s right.” Samuel glowered, his handsome face enraged. “Keep telling yourself she was happy when she died so you can justify you’re the one who put her on that mountain. It’s how you’ve absolved yourself, isn’t it?”

  “Now hold on,” Mitch chimed in, slashing at the air in front of him with a rigid hand. “Shit happens to good people all the time. They don’t deserve it, and they certainly shouldn’t be shamed for putting themselves in a position where accidents happen. It’s not Tate’s or Nate’s fault, and to suggest otherwise is cruel. Look at what happened yesterday. Eighteen people died on that mountain.”

  How does he know the number? Nate wondered but thought better than to ask right then.

  “Do you think those people were irresponsible with their lives? Do you think their families are going to be angry they took a vacation that ended in tragedy? Your son loved Tate, and while her death is devastating to all of you, it showed him one thing: that his life is precious. If he chooses to do what makes him happy as opposed to what’s financially sound or safe, because he enjoys the wind on his face and the speed of his skis, no one can tell him otherwise. He will go to his grave someday knowing he has zero regrets. We get zero do-overs, and if you’re going to yell at him because he doesn’t want to be on his deathbed wishing for one, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave. He’s been through enough.”

  The Koehns gaped at him, all three of them. Nate flushed with warmth and overwhelming adoration. He reached for Mitch’s hand and laced their fingers together, returning his gaze, now calm and stoic, to his parents.

  His mother’s posture was stiff, her expression affronted while Samuel was stone cold. “Is that what you want, Nathan?” he demanded.

  “If you make me choose between having a relationship with you and living my life on my terms, then yeah. You can go. I’m sorry you made the trip.”

  “So am I.” Samuel marched from the room, but Kristen hesitated. Her lips were pursed, and she struggled to maintain her composure as she stood. When she looked at Nate one more time, her rigid jaw relaxed.

  “I don’t want this, Nate.”

  “I don’t either,” he said, sad acceptance filling all the crevices in his chest. “You’re not giving me a lot of choice.”

  “We’ve always supported you.”

  “Until I didn’t do what you wanted,” he countered.

  “Well, then I guess we’ll go.” When she neared the door, she turned back, eyes hard. “You’re on your own now.”

  Biting back a retort, Nate gave no reaction. The pain was there, but he didn’t let it show. It hurt as much as it had the first time they’d made it clear they blamed him for Tate’s death and wouldn’t condone his sovereignty over his own future. He’d known this day was coming, that they would well and truly cut him out of their lives, and no matter how much he’d already grieved over it, when she was out of his line of sight, he gasped at the shock of it.

  “They really left,” he said in disbelief.

  Mitch said nothing, merely wrapped his arm around Nate gingerly to hold him. Turning his face into the warmth of Mitch’s neck, Nate broke.

  Except for the ghost of his sister and this man—this quirky, sharp-witted, beautiful and compassionate man who held him while he cried—Nate was alone in this world.

  Chapter 22

  Divinity Personified

  “You know, there’s no getting out of it now,” Nate said, looking at Mitch expectantly.

  Mitch sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, stubble scratching against his palms. He’d gotten a toothbrush and sample deodorant from the nurse’s assistant to try and freshen up, but shaving had felt like too much of a chore after the worry of the last couple days. His nerves were frayed, and he was frankly surprised moving his four souls to their doors had been as easy as it was. Dealing with the aftermath of Nate’s parents walking out had allowed him to push away anything more, including the conversation he knew Nate would demand.

  Hell, he knew he needed to talk about this. If things had been normal—as normal as they could ever be for him, anyway—he’d have kept his mouth shut until he was ready to take their relationship to the next level. He didn’t have that luxury. Nate already knew, the quietly spoken words in the ambulance yesterday unforgettable.

  It’s true. You’re a reaper.

  Dragging his weary carcass out of the recliner to sit at the foot of Nate’s bed, Mitch took a deep breath and met his boyfriend’s eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to get out of it anymore, even if I’m afraid you’re going to run screaming in the other direction.”

  Above and behind Nate, Tate glowered at Mitch and shook her head. If she could be heard, Mitch imagined her saying, Give him a chance to stick with you. Or maybe that was what he wanted her to say. He gave her a weary nod.

  “Before you tell me anything, I need to know how Tate is doing,” Nate said. He hadn’t missed Mitch’s acknowledgement of her. “I can’t see or hear her, and I don’t have my computer with me to talk to her.”

  “I think she’s okay,” Mitch said, reading her cues as she tried to play charades with him. “At first, she was frantic.” That much, he didn’t have to guess. He’d seen her on the mountain, shouting silently and weeping as she’d flailed and gestured to where Nate was buried. “She saved your life.”

 
Nate cocked his head. “How?”

  “You probably had your beacon switched to receive when the second avalanche came down, since you’d been digging people out, right?” Morgan had told him enough about the events while he’d been unconscious, and Nate confirmed it now. “If I hadn’t seen her and followed her link to where you were buried, no one would have ever found you. Without her, you’d be dead.”

  Nate closed his eyes, his forehead creased with emotion. “Thank you, dork,” he whispered.

  Mitch squinted at Tate as she mouthed words slowly and carefully enough for him to read them. “She says, ‘You’re welcome, nerd.’”

  Silence stretched between them, and Mitch fidgeted while Nate regarded him with patient interest. Apparently, he wasn’t going to drag this out of Mitch, so there was no choice but to do it himself.

  “You’re right. I’m a reaper, though how you knew that, I haven’t got a fucking clue.”

  “Tate,” Nate said simply. “She had one who apparently failed. She said there are auras around you that ghosts can see, like you’re some kind of lighthouse to them or something. So when she saw you, she recognized what you were.”

  Mitch closed his eyes as the puzzle pieces fell into place. “And she didn’t know how closely guarded the secret is.”

  Nate raised a brow. “It is?”

  “Yeah,” Mitch croaked, the import hitting him and making his hands shake. He was in uncharted territory now, and it was make or break time. “Think about it. If humans knew there were reapers walking around just like them, there’d be chaos. People wouldn’t be able to form relationships with new friends and lovers because they’d be worried everyone they met would be the one bringing their end.”

  “Do you do that? Bring people’s ends?”

  Mitch shook his head. “No. The lighthouse description is a good one. We light the way for souls to travel from this world to the next, but we don’t kill people. And there’s a difference between a soul and a ghost.”