Immortal Remains: A Tim Reaper Novel

by Sean Cummings

  “Amy … we’re swapping vehicles – you can drive, right?” I said, slipping a key into the lock. It opened with a quick snap.

  She poked her head out of the passenger window and gave me a sour look. “Um … yeah. I have my license and everything.”

  “Good,” I said, lifting the garage door over my head to reveal my vintage 1976 Jeep Wagoneer, complete with a faux wood exterior and a chrome roof rack. “Pull my truck in when I drive out.”

  “What automotive museum did you rob to get that ancient thing?” said Amy as she eyeballed the Jeep. “Is that … is that wood?”

  I climbed into the driver’s seat and rolled down the window. “It’s a classic — never diss a classic,” I said and pulled a key out from the ashtray. “We’re going to need it where we’re going.”

  I pumped the gas pedal a few times and slipped the key into the ignition. The big V-8 roared to life and I dropped the Wagoneer in gear with a loud thunk. Amy slid over to the driver’s side of my truck and within minutes I’d secured the storage unit and we were back on the highway.

  She glanced over her shoulder to the back of the Wagoneer. “There’s a tarp over the entire back seat – what’s underneath?”

  “Supplies,” I said. “Fresh water, canned food, guns and ammo. Flares, razor wire and probably some skin mags. A guy needs his reading material.”

  She lifted the tarp and pulled out an olive drab wooden box with handles made of plasticized rope. “M1A1 US FRAG HE … what’s in this crate?”

  “Hand grenades,” I said, fishing a smoke out of my trench coat.

  She stared at the box, wide-eyed. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  I nodded. “Yep … I keep this rig loaded with essentials for when shit starts flying.”

  She carefully placed the crate of grenades back under the tarp and slid back down in the front seat. “Hand grenades and guns are essentials? Just how bad is it, Reaper?”

  I chewed my lip for a moment and glanced at her through the corner of my eye. Amy was an innocent bystander and in my business, bystanders usually wound up as casualties. I thought for a moment that I could drop her off at a gas station with a few bucks, but after that shootout in my flat, there were probably dozens of eyewitnesses who saw us sprinting to my pickup. It meant not only were they on the lookout for me, the cops would be searching for her, too. I took a deep haul on my cigarette and then tossed the butt out the window.

  “Things could be better,” I said, exhaling a plume of blue smoke. “We’re going to lay low until a contact of mine gets in touch. I’ve got enough supplies in this truck and at my safe house to keep us going for weeks. It’s secluded, camouflaged and protected with a whole shit pile of improvised defensive traps I’ve set up over the years. If anyone comes for us, we’ll have lots of warning.”

  “And then what?” she said, her eyes shifting to the floor. “I’m no Bonnie Parker, Reaper. The only thing illegal I’ve ever done is be a …”

  I placed my hand on her knee and gave it a small squeeze. “We do what we gotta do to get through the day, kiddo. Believe me, I’ve been in the survival business for a lot of years and I don’t hold anything against you for what you’ve done. Shit … I just shot four guys in my flat. I’m not exactly a pillar of the community.”

  “H-How many people have you killed?”

  I cocked an eyebrow and glanced at her again. “Enough. And everyone that I’ve killed was doing his or her level best to kill the shit out of me. I don’t go looking for trouble, Amy, but it sure as hell comes looking for me every freaking chance it gets.”

  “And nobody has tried to take you in? Jeez, I get busted just for standing on Hollis Street after one in the morning.”

  I grunted. “Cops bust hookers because it’s the seedy side of life that’s visible to the naked eye. They need to give the community the appearance of doing something about crime and your kind are just the low-hanging fruit, if you know what I mean. Someone like me, well … normally when I’m not engaged in a gun battle in my own stinking flat, I’m the invisible man. Guess I’ll have to find a new place when this is all over.”

  She exhaled. “Yeah … you and me both. How come you haven’t ditched me yet?”

  “Nobody is keeping you here, Amy, but you’re safer with me than without.”

  She blinked a couple of times. “How come?”

  I signaled onto a grid road and veered off the highway. “Because the cops aren’t the only people you need to worry about. There’s a guy who’s after me, and I’ve been set up for a murder I didn’t commit. Whoever is behind all this would find you and kill you, and that’s after they’ve made you talk.”

  She gulped. Audibly. “Are you serious?”

  I nodded. “Dead serious … do you know how to fire a gun?”

  Amy shook her head. “No … I’ve never fired one in my life.”

  “All right,” I said. “You’re going to learn how before this day is out. You cool with that?”

  “I guess so – I just hope I don’t have to use it.”

  I nodded. “Me too – just make sure that if you do start shooting, that I’m not the one you’re aiming at.”

  ***

  We drove in silence for about half an hour as I considered my next move. I was nowhere near finding out who was responsible for the deaths of the angels or how a mere mortal could do it for that matter. If it were a mere mortal. Someone had upped the ante by whacking Father Butler and that reeked of conspiracy. He was my only contact with the Church. The priest had hired me and paid me a deposit for my services – money that was still in the pocket of my greatcoat, albeit covered with my blood from the shootout at the cemetery. Outside of laying low until I heard from Sparks, I didn’t have a whole lot of options. But then I always had a target on my back –the nature of what I did. Most of the time I was knee-deep in shit ranging from counter extortion to putting a bullet in the brain of some asshole contract killer, because the person who ordered a hit didn’t want anything pointing back to them. But this time it was high stakes poker with end of the world consequences if I screwed up. Someone was gunning for me, I managed to get a priest killed, I had a shoot-out in my flat and every peace officer for miles was looking for me.

  Hiding out was the last thing I wanted, but I didn’t have a choice. Everything depended on Sparks running interference.

  “Where are you taking me, anyway?” asked Amy.

  “Three Fathom Harbour – we’ll be doing some off-roading for a few miles before I hide the Wagoneer. It’s bumpier than shit, but this old girl can handle it.”

  “Are you sure nobody will find us?”

  I shrugged. “I think we’re clear. The cops haven’t put up any roadblocks yet, but give them a few hours. We’ll be safe, so don’t worry about it.”

  Amy seemed to relax a little and sunk down into the seat. “I’ve never been on the run before, but you rescued me from Emil Vachon. I trust you and that’s hard for me to do. I don’t even trust myself half the time.”

  Wow. Here I was bombing down the highway with a beautiful girl less than two hours after a shootout and she said that she trusted me. I should have sent her packing – that’s what my brain was screaming at me to do, but she was different from other women. Amy didn’t ask to be rescued. Yet I rescued her nevertheless. I could have left her in the parking lot outside Boyzies, but I chose to intervene. I had let her come to my flat and straight into my life.

  I didn’t generally feel the way that real people did. I knew right from wrong and I played for both teams when it came to good versus evil. Feelings were hard to comprehend because they came from the soul and the last time I looked, death spirits were soulless entities. But humanity fascinated me – it had since the day I crossed over. Their capacity to inspire or destroy. Humanity’s ability to overcome the odds when those same odds were stacked against them. Maybe that was why I chose to live among them; human beings were living puzzles and Amy Curtis was a puzzle I wanted to solve.

  I
decided to change topics and lighten the conversation. “Look … maybe when all this is over I’ll take you out for dinner or something. You know, as payment for turning your life upside-down.”

  Amy gave me a slight shove and smiled. “You’re waiting until we’re on the lam to ask me for a date? Gee, Reaper, you have impeccable timing. I’ll accept your offer of a night out if you can answer a question for me.”

  “Shoot,” I said, gearing down and veered onto grid road number five.

  “Obviously your real name isn’t Reaper, right? So what is it?”

  I couldn’t exactly Amy I was a nameless entity whose function was to purge the world of lives-lived. It was time to wimp out and be coy about things.

  “It’s a state secret, but I like you, so I’ll give you three guesses,” I said.

  She studied my face for a moment as the Wagoneer shook and shuddered over the uneven washboard road. “I’d peg you as a Cade or maybe a Clint. Some kind of name that’s overtly testosterone-sounding. You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  I stared hard through the windshield and slowed the vehicle as we rounded a huge pothole that would have ripped the oil pan off the undercarriage. “Reaper is a name I use – sort of like how you use your hooker name … what was it again?”

  “Danni,” she said sourly. I Googled porn star names when I started working the streets and it was the most common one. I just figured why mess with a proven brand.”

  “Right … Danni,” I said. “I came up with my name because I have a hell of a lot of enemies out there and part of my job is to send a ‘don’t fuck with me’ message to any and all comers. Emil Vachon clearly wasn’t buying that message … that or he was too stupid.”

  “Yeah, Emil isn’t exactly a shining beacon of high intellect,” she said. “How long have you been … reaping?”

  “Too long,” I said. “Way too freaking long. I’m on the wrong side of the law most of the time, but I’m not a criminal, Amy. There’s an order to the world that has to be maintained. Underworld empires are built and toppled every day all across the globe, and the authorities know damned well they can’t do shit to stop it because there’s money to be made. They’ll be doing business the same way a thousand years from now and I’m the guy they call for certain kinds of transactions.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the tarp. “You’ve been set up for a murder by a guy that wants to kill you,” she said. “Does this kind of thing happen regularly?”

  “There’s always someone coming after me,” I replied. “But I don’t go looking for trouble. Look … the less you know about my past the better it will be for your sanity. Trust me on this.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I put my foot on the brake and slipped the Wagoneer into park. I turned to face her and was immediately struck by her eyes. Amy had a natural beauty that you just didn’t see in a working girl. There was a kind of bewilderment to her, like she was a bystander to her own life spinning wildly out of control. Something about her made me want to drop my guard, and that had never happened before with any woman. Not once.

  I met her eyes and pursed my lips for a moment. I took a deep breath and said, “Because nightmares are real, Amy. The truth of me isn’t worth knowing because to know who I am and the kinds of things that I’ve done – well, you just can’t know. You don’t deserve that — someone close to me learned about what I’ve done — what I can still do, and she’s tortured by it every single day. I won’t lay that burden on you, Amy. You’ve got a whole life ahead of you and when we get through this, you need to get your ass as far the hell away from me as you can.”

  She gave my hand a small squeeze. “I’ve done some pretty terrible stuff in my life, Reaper. I used to think that I’d finish university and become a psychologist. I’d have my own office, a nice car … a nice man. But it all fell apart when I started using. Everything unravelled — friendships, family, and all my hopes. I flushed them down the toilet for drugs. Getting my next fix became my primary focus in life. In order to do that, I needed money. I’d have sex with men in shitty hotel rooms, in the back of cars … basically anywhere. I allowed myself to participate in sleazy sexual acts. Somewhere on the web there’s a low-budget porn video of me doing three guys in a fucking tent. Christ, it’s a wonder I’m still alive to talk about it. But I’m still here, Reaper. There’s nothing stopping you from turning your life around, but one thing that I’ve learned is you have to forgive yourself first. Maybe that’s the next step for you.”

  I exhaled. “Maybe it is … I don’t know. Look, let’s save the heart-to-heart stuff for another time. We gotta get to my safe house and figure out the next move.”

  “All right,” she said, as I slipped the Wagoneer back in gear. “I should be scared shitless right now, but I’m not. I feel safe with you, Reaper, even though I don’t know your name or really anything about you. Somehow I think you’ve got my back no matter what.”

  I tried not to grimace as we rounded a copse of trees. “Yeah, kiddo,” I said, trying to sound optimistic. “I got your back.”

  16

  We hid the Wagoneer deep inside the underground entrance to Das Bunker. The snakes slithered away into their hiding places as I trudged down the fifty-meter reinforced cement corridor leading to the massive steel entrance door. It helps when the aura of death clings to you like a wet sweater – it’s why cats shit themselves, dogs head for the hills and poisonous reptiles flee in my presence. (The rattlesnakes aren’t indigenous to the region, by the way. I had them shipped in from New Mexico – snakes are a bit more discreet than say, landmines.)

  I slid the combat lock back into its recess and the door opened with an ear splitting screech. I craned my neck over my shoulder and motioned for Amy to get out of the Wagoneer. “Gonna have to oil that door,” I said as I aimed my flashlight inside to reveal a dusty, cobweb infested room with an iron ladder that led up through a man-sized square hole in the ceiling.

  The room itself was about fifty feet across and there was a cot in the far left corner. I’d left a large folding table leaning against the back wall and above it was a series of metal shelves stocked with canned food and cases of bottled water. There was a pair of gun lockers mounted beside a makeshift cooking area complete with a hot plate, galvanized steel washing basins and a laundry sink and faucets that ran off an immersion heater and a sump pump so we could have something resembling hot running water. There was another smaller steel door to the left of the ladder and inside was a genuine water closet, with a shower I’d rigged up to work from the same immersion heater that led to the laundry sink. There also a toilet that dropped waste down a concrete chute and into the ocean below.

  Amy trudged up behind me and poked her head in the doorway. “Well, let’s go inside and start cleaning since this place is going to be home sweet home for a while.”

  I barred the doorway with my left arm and shone the flashlight at my feet. “Not until I disarm the trip wire – it’s a safety precaution to make sure nobody has been inside.”

  “Y-You booby trapped the place? What if some lost hiker wanted to take shelter in here?”

  “This isn’t a shelter – it’s a bunker,” I said as I disconnected the trip wire from the pull-pin out of the trip flare I’d mounted on the side of the doorway. “And this is just a non-lethal flare.”

  She exhaled audibly as I stepped through the doorway and reached for a kerosene lantern that was hanging from a hook. I lit it with my Zippo and the room was quickly bathed in an orange glow.

  “Are there any more booby traps?” she asked.

  “Nope … I don’t need any. That whole entrance we walked through is filled with rattle snakes. Anyone in their right mind would have to be nuts to come into this place.”

  “Rattle snakes!” gasped Amy. “You made me walk through a cave filled with poisonous freaking snakes? You said snakes … not rattle snakes!”

  I shrugged. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice their little tails rattling
away when we backed in the Jeep. What the hell, kid, if I’d told you they were rattlers do you think you’d have come with me? It’s cool – they won’t come anywhere near you. You’re safe.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How can I be sure of that?”

  I placed my hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “Amy … trust me, okay? We’re safe.”

  “That door stays shut, Reaper. I don’t want any of them coming in here.”

  “Consider it done. In the meantime, we’ve got hot and cold water once I get the generators going for the sump pumps. I’ll show you how to light an immersion heater – that’s where the hot water comes from.”

  “What’s an immersion heater?”

  “It’s a forty-gallon oil drum that’s been cleaned out.” I said. “You fill it with water and there’s a metal burner that you drop into the bottom and a two-gallon gas tank with a spigot. Gasoline drips into the burner and you light the gas. Smoke goes up a small chimney and after about half an hour of burning the gas, you’ve got water that’s hot enough to boil eggs.”

  “Sounds rustic.”

  “Well this ain’t the Hilton,” I said pointing to a small door in the corner. “There’s a toilet in that room over there along with a shower. The running water works on a sump pump in another immersion heater, and that along with the hot plate is powered by the generator. Above us is the actual firing bay that used to overlook the ocean before the trees took over. There’s another cot up there along with more fuel, Jerry cans of fresh water and more supplies.”

  “Wow … this really is a safe house once you get past the snake part,” said Amy, sounding wholly impressed. “It’s pretty dusty in here, got a broom?”

  “Up top,” I said. “I’ll drop it down to you and then you can clean this room up while I get the rest of our stuff from the Jeep and set up the plumbing.”