Amongst the din and the mess, they didn't notice the sound of another car pulling up to the office. They didn't hear someone climbing THE STAIRS - old and uneven - outside.
The filing cabinet had all their attention.
Tom wouldn't take no for an answer, he wouldn't be denied whatever contents it held.
A small hole developed to a bigger one which he wrenched open until it could fit his hand. He halted Grim's scissors and jammed his good hand into the opening.
Then, only with the noise of the cabinet-murder ceased, did they hear someone messing with keys at the front door.
The two locked eyes. Grim's filled with worry amongst all the bruising.
The office door swung open.
Tom started scanning the office for an exit, but there were only windows, a floor up, no use.
They would have to get past their visitor.
Within the guts of the cabinet, Tom grabbed at whatever folder was nearest and yanked it out through the gap, but his (healthy) hand caught the metal and tore open.
'Shit!' he wailed, losing the folder in mid-air and spraying its paperwork around them.
'Oh nononono.' Grim backed up, away from the blood spilling down Tom's other wrist. He didn't realise how close to the back of the cabinet he sat and tumbled off onto his back.
THUD.
'Is someone there?' came the voice of a less-than-confident Derek entering the front office.
It must've been a rhetorical question, my Dads were making a ridiculous amount of noise.
'I'm phoning the police!' he added, erasing the rhetoric.
Tom was relieved in a way. At least it wasn't the police already.
Grim lifted himself to a hunched position, trying not to look at the blood - which must've been tough for the guy, given the volume. 'What do we do??' he spoke in a harsh whisper.
Tom heard footsteps approaching.
He gathered up a couple of pieces of paper, soaking them in blood, and tried to read anything off of them. It was a file for a girl called Lisa Reid - a name that rang a bell. He jammed the whole piece of paper into his jeans without folding it and stood up.
'C'mere,' he muttered, standing opposite the door and clenching two fists that leaked a lot of blood. 'Let's show him how the pancakes are made.'
~
Across the island, at the top of some flats in The Whirl, a beekeeper was about to die.
Grim, compiling a career as the worst Reaper ever, had no idea.
~
Thirty-One
Death of a Beekeeper
A beekeeper on a damp island like Wilson's Well is unlikely, but only as unlikely as the boxer with steel fists or the magician that caught bullets.
Jim was a beekeeper with impossible control over bees.
Back at the start of the day, when Tom's biggest problem was the mess he left in the park, Jim watched the weather report to see if it had changed.
Nope, Wilson's Well was due a storm that evening.
He groaned.
He couldn't spend the day with his daughter. Instead, he had to spend it securing the hutch so the storm didn't blow it to bits.
Bees don't keep well in the rain. To counteract it, he had designed and installed a hutch on the roof of his flats. It was pricey to maintain, given Wilson's Well's weather, but he managed. Every summer, he travelled the islands selling his honey. He was a popular guy, so it sold.
Bees didn't do much in the winter. Basically, they only tried to keep themselves alive, but it was at this time the hutch needed most maintenance.
'Sorry, Cass. I need to work on the hutch...' he told his daughter.
She sat on a couch in front of the TV, as ten-year-olds tended to on Wilson's Well.
'Daaaaaaadddd,' she whined.
'I know, honey. Can't be helped, it's a storm tonight.'
She folded her arms and huffed.
'Forgive me?'
'I still want chilli tonight.'
He smiled and gave her shoulder a shake. 'I'll make chilli tonight.'
The work required took a lot longer than he thought, so Jim did not make chilli. Cass instead got a microwaved lasagne that was flat and wet.
Looking over his shoulder at the rain lashing the window, Jim apologised as he served the disgraceful dinner to his kid.
She accepted the grovelling and allowed him back off to work.
When he was gone, she moved from the kitchen table through to the living room where she parked herself right back on the couch and snarled at the TV.
She hated the bees.
Every time she had plans with her Dad, the bees ruined them.
She wished they'd die.
~
Jim screamed something like, 'FUCKING BEES!!' which prompted Cass to go up the stairs. There, she found the hutch covered in dead bees and her Dad's bloated corpse under them.
They stung him. All of them stung him.
It might have been the weather, or the noise of whatever Jim did to secure the hutch, but even then it didn’t make sense. Jim was a beekeeper who had never once in his life been stung. He didn’t even own a protective suit; he never needed one. He kept a thousand of them alive, year round, on an island that always rained.
The attack was a freak occurrence.
A freak occurrence just like, say, a joist in perfect condition collapsing a ceiling on a young boxer, or the failure of a glove specifically designed to catch bullets. Jo McIvor's unnatural blunt force couldn't save her, nor could The Magnificent Molly's frightening speed, and Beekeeper Jim's strange ability to communicate with bees failed him too.
Three special people beaten by a rigged game.
~
Jim's death baffled him. He sat on a wall in the hutch with his daughter by his side. A carpet of bees covered the floor; a dead body had been swept underneath.
'They... they just turned Cass.'
Cass wept. She couldn't speak.
'I mean, they lost their shit. I must've... No, I didn't. Even if...'
Cass sniffed.
'No, that's not right... all of them? At the exact same time? I didn't stand a chance... what the fuck happened?'
Cass felt confident she could manage a word. 'D-dunno.'
The ghost rested his chin on his hands and tapped his feet against the wall silently. He didn't seem to care that he died; he just wanted to know how.
Cass only cared that he died. He should have spent the day with her. He should have had chilli with her.
The rain pummelled the plastic roof on the hutch, leaking through in a few different spots. It needed fixing, but she wished her Dad had let it blow away.
The tears started up again, harder. Jim tried to give her a cuddle but fell through her, smudging the air violet at his back.
They laughed, only a little chuckle. Something to help them ignore the moving ground beneath the bees fifteen feet ahead.
Dead bees tumbled off the ghoul pushing itself up into the world. There were another two they hadn't seen yet, one at the back of the hutch and one in the flowers behind them. The one in front got their attention.
Jim didn't understand what was happening, but he wanted his daughter to have no part in it.
He pointed to the door of the hutch. 'Why don't you head back downstairs now, Cass. I think I'm off.'
Cass stared at the hand of the ghoul; three pointed prongs reaching into the air and slamming down onto the roof, splashing bees around like water. Its mouth emerged, open and filling with the bugs. They moved and fell around like they were still alive, twitching. Up and into the world it arrived, planting both skinny little legs into the ground, craning its neck to an angle, assessing its target.
Cass would never unsee that ghoul.
Click.
The ghoul jumped forward three feet causing her to yelp and slip off the back of the wall. She managed to catch herself before she fell.
'Inside, Cass, go.'
Cass didn't need to be told again. She got to her feet, crushing bees underfoo
t, and walked backwards from the scene.
Jim sat there, waiting.
Cass saw all three ghouls working forwards.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The first lunged at his legs and tore a foot off, splashing into the ground and vanishing.
'Fuck!' Jim cried, now missing a foot. 'Hold on, hold on!' He suddenly recoiled from his fate. ‘Wait!'
Cass's legs were the only part of her working. Pushing her back. Pushing her away.
Jim hopped off of the wall and staggered around, trying to escape. 'Wait a minute!' He swung his fists.
Click.
Another fell through him, taking everything from his knee downwards on his good leg.
He fell down.
'This is pish!' he yelled as another ghoul tumbled through him.
Cass had seen enough. She turned from her Dad and pushed open the hutch door, leaving him behind. She heard him shout and swear and threaten to head-butt one of the ghouls as far as the bottom of the stairs in the close.
There, a new sound overtook.
A high-pitched whine and frantic footsteps. The desperate sprinting of a Reaper running severely late.
He ran with both arms out ahead of him, falling up the stairs and bouncing off the walls. 'NONONONONO!' he screamed with a cracking voice. He barely noticed Cass. He blew past her and up the stairs at her back.
She turned and ran after him, her little legs kept her surprisingly close to the gangling, flailing Reaper.
Back at the top of the stairs, Cass watched as Grim threw the door to the hutch open and literally dove into the fray. In the middle of the roof, three ghouls closed in on the disembodied head of Jim, still hurling obscenities.
The ghouls recognised Grim in mid-air, closing in on the send.
He splashed down, driving the air from his guts and spraying bees everywhere as his hand came down on Jim's head.
It passed clean through.
He had forgotten to take the glove off again.
'Who the fuck are you!?' Jim screamed.
Grim gripped his stomach, struggling for breath.
Click.
The last ghoul fell upon Jim's head and took him off to purgatory. That awful nightclub somewhere between heaven and hell, where the bar service is terrible, and the song doesn't change.
The click stopped, and then there was only Grim left, rolling around amongst the corpses of a thousand bees.
~
Cass shuffled towards him, using her sleeve to dry her face.
She didn't know about Reapers or ghouls or death, but she knew what to do when someone was upset.
And Grim was clearly upset.
'Excuse me?'
'I'm sorrrrry!' He moaned from under his gloves. 'I'm so sorry!'
'Would you like tea? I can make some tea?'
A moment later, in which I don't doubt Grim considered how fired he was, he told Cass a cup of tea sounded lovely.
~
Thirty-Two
My Unsurprising Lack of Pals
Once Judge Rabbit was satisfied with how his band sounded, he dismissed us - with Mute - to the basement. He led us back into the dense air and crippling dark beneath Rabbit Manor.
Nobody tried to escape.
The door to our quarters shut at our backs, and each of my band branched off.
I stood in the middle. 'Guys, we-'
Six spun around, snapping. 'Don’t.'
'Look, we need to talk about this. We need to find a new-'
'A show of hands, to save any wasted time,' Six spoke to the room. 'Who's willing to risk their family for a shot at freedom?'
Bass gingerly lowered himself into his bunk, Keys sat by him, offering a comforting arm, and Vox pulled a chair out at the table in the middle. None of their hands went up.
'Sorted, we play the gig, worry about escape afterwards,' Six surmised.
'No I- that's a dumb idea. He can't kill all of our families before we're at a police station. It's a scare tactic.'
'Let it go.' Six spoke in a dull, calculated tone, missing any of his snark. 'We're done, Cora.'
'Aw don't start using my name.'
'Why not? Because you don't wanna get attached to us, right? What happened last time you got attached, Cora? Huh?'
'Fuck you.'
'Tell us what he meant back there. How have you got out and lived? Why were you the only one left alive from your last band?'
'Let's not, Six.'
'My name's-'
'It doesn't matter what your name is! What matters is getting you out of here, alive. As soon as we're done with this gig, we're expendable again. He's going to kill every one of you, how are you not getting this?'
Nobody spoke.
So I left, kicked the door to my room in and beat the fuck out of my pillow for a while.
~
I wanted what was best for them, that's what pissed me off.
I wanted them to live more than I wanted anything. I tried, on my own, to piece together a new plan, but without them, there wasn't a point.
I needed them to want to escape.
They didn't trust me because I appeared to have immunity. I spent time face to face with Judge Rabbit, and he made it look like I have some sort of deal with him for my survival. On top of that, I got a cracked rib for my mistake, but Bass's whole family got killed for his (apparently). Hell, maybe they knew I didn't like Tom that much and “killing” him wouldn't have nearly as devastating an effect on me, I don't know.
The problem had been the same since I first approached them with an escape plan: I knew more than them, and they didn’t like it.
If I talked them through exactly what happened, their minds might change…
But I didn’t want to talk about it.
In time, Vox, the angel that she is, came to check on me. I lay on my stomach, hugging the pillow. I peered over its top as she entered.
'Hey,' she said, leaning against the door.
'S'up.'
She came towards the bed, so I moved up to allow her space to lie down, which was presumptuous of me, but she did it anyway.
She lay on her side, facing me. 'They hate you.’
'Grand.’ I smirked. ‘Anything I can do to fix that?'
'Don't think so, Kit.'
'...Cool.'
I sunk my face into the pillow. I prayed it'd never end, that I could keep sinking until it engulfed my whole body.
Through the pillow, Vox spoke. 'The plan earlier... were you gonna try and take the big man on?'
I muffled an affirmation.
'Think you'd survive?'
I pulled myself back to dumb reality. Past the abused pillow and a wall of curls, Vox looked back.
'I doubt it.'
'Right, okay...' insulted by the idea, she developed a snarl. 'How's that acceptable? How come you wanna die so much?'
'I don't want to die, I just want you guys to live.'
'How come?'
'Pesky humanity of mine, what can I say.'
'No really, what puts our lives over yours?'
Were I not looking at her, I might've come up with a better answer. I might've done a better job of deflecting the question. Call me vulnerable, or whatever, but I dunno, maybe if I could change her mind, she'd change everyone else's.
I sighed. 'Listen, when I got here I was a mess.'
'How come?'
'Oh, broken heart, nothing new, nothing fancy. I got here and wanted back out, but never tried. I kept myself to myself, playing the drums and well... Everyone else always talked about getting out. They tried, they got flattened, Mute replaced them, and that kept up for a bit. I figured if I wanted out, I would be taking my turn at one point, but I wanted to make it. I didn't wanna end up another smear on Mute's boots.'
Vox held a line of solid, present eye-contact. She listened.
'So one of the walls out there turned out to be plaster, the one behind the picture of the vulture. It felt hollow, and when everyone was
sleeping one night, I pushed through into an open hatch, a dumb-waiter. I didn't tell anyone, I didn't wake anyone, I just went. I went up one floor and found the door and let myself out into the dining room, slap-bang in the middle of that bastard's supper.'
'Mute?'
'Rabbit. He sat in this fucking silk robe with a bowl of, heh-' I laughed because it was ridiculous. '-he had a bowl of chocolate hoops. He sat me down and offered me a bowl, and a drink, and a smoke and he said my timing was great because we had something to discuss. He said he was disappointed I decided to attempt escape. He thought he could rely on me to stick around. I was the only one left from his very first line-up. He said if we kept trying to escape, then the band would never be ready in time. Said we needed a leader, said we needed structure and order. He said I was the only one getting it right. He...'
With a deep breath and some awkward repositioning that stung my ribcage, I sat up and crossed my legs. I continued to hug the pillow, looking past Vox at the wall.
'He called for a fresh start. He woke the rest of the band, got Mute to bring them up. I remember the look on Mute's face when he saw me, the sheer disbelief that someone had gotten past him...'
I was changing the subject.
'Anyway. Mute brought the rest of my band up, lined them all up, and Judge Rabbit shot every one of them, made me watch.'
'Aw, Kit...' Vox murmured.
'So, to answer your question, I don't want to die, but I probably should. I'm at the back of the line, I have been for months.'
'Deep.'
'Right?'
Vox processed what I had told her, and she took her time. She lay there, looking at the wall, then she got up and sat beside me.
I hung on her words.
'That's...' she said, after forever, 'pretty much as bad as everyone thought, Kit.'
Crushed.
'Right.'
'Sorry, but... you tried to get out and didn't die, like they thought. Judge Rabbit agreed to keep you alive... Now I know why you wanna keep us from dying, but as far as the guys are concerned, you still got treatment nobody else got.'
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