Living the Good Death

by Scott Baron

  No, that’s not right.

  Dissatisfied with her first attempt, she erased the chalk lines with the palm of her hand.

  It has to be perfect, she thought as she focused on the nuances of the symbols and tried again.

  The next morning, despite waking up within the walls of Camview, Dorothy rolled out of bed feeling like a million bucks. Action was far better than spinning her wheels, and she now had a new possibility of getting back. Something within her control. Something to constructively direct her energies toward. Something that didn’t rely on an irritating Horseman of the Apocalypse.

  Sure, it would take time to see if it panned out, but it was so much better than her previous state of seemingly endless standby.

  Another thing had begun bothering her less as well.

  Being locked up.

  She knew that, for the time being, she was stuck spending her days in Camview, waiting for the man claiming to be Pestilence to be released back into the ward, but at least a night or two per week were her own. When not working on her runes, studying the old text, she found herself looking forward to her next outing with Curtis and her charming new watch-owning friend.

  She stretched languidly as she rose, then stepped out of her room, walking to the dining hall well before most of the other patients had even risen. With a little quiet time to herself, she poured a cup of herbal tea—no caffeine in the mental hospital, thank you very much—and curled up on one of the vacant lounge chairs near the windows.

  The sunlight felt excellent as it warmed her feet while she sipped from the steaming mug.

  Not a bad day, she mused, surprisingly content, even in her current confines. Let’s see what tonight brings.

  “I said they’re pretty good!” Curtis yelled over the music booming from the sizable speakers.

  Mad Hatter’s was a relatively small club that had been around for ages, and despite the newer venues popping up, the place had serious street-cred, and still managed to book some of the best local talent. This night was no exception.

  Curtis had found out about it from a fellow music lover while watching a street performer busking for change months before he had even met Dorothy. Now seemed like a perfect time to finally check it out. Seeing the smiles on his friends’ faces, he was not disappointed with the decision.

  The set ended, and the trio stepped outside into the fresh air, smiling as the good vibe moved right along with them.

  “Great band!” Randy said with a grin. “I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of this place.”

  “Been wanting to check it out for months now, so this all worked out perfectly,” Curtis replied.

  “Yeah, good call, man. So do you guys want to get some munchies? There’s a Szechuan place that’s open late off the number three Line on the way back.”

  “How spicy is it?” Dorothy asked. “I don’t want to destroy my innards, after all.”

  “Come on, spice is nice!” Curtis chided.

  Randy took her side. “You saw what a simple cup of coffee could do, so I understand the concern.” He turned to Dorothy. “Don’t worry, you can order mild, no problem.”

  “In that case, let’s do it.”

  “Sweet. I’ll grab our coats. Be right back.” Randy winnowed his way through the crowd toward the coat check.

  Curtis grabbed Dorothy’s arm and quickly guided her away from the front of the club.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked, annoyed at the manhandling.

  He pointed to the smokers who had congregated at the front door.

  “Sorry. It’s just we can’t go back smelling like smoke. We’d be busted the second they caught a whiff of us.”

  “I don’t know how I didn’t even think of that,” she said, mildly annoyed with herself.

  “Not something you’d usually have to think about,” he comforted her. “I’m just looking out for you. It’s my job, after all.”

  Randy wove his way through the crowd back to his friends, coats flopped over his arm.

  “Thanks, Randy!” Curtis said as he lifted his off the pile.

  “For you, m’lady.” Randy held up Dorothy’s coat for her as she slid into its warmth.

  “How chivalrous of you.”

  “I try.”

  “At least she isn’t making you drop your cape across a puddle for her,” Curtis said with a laugh.

  “Just wait until it rains,” she joked.

  “Come on, you two, let’s get a move-on. I am hon-gray!”

  Over the course of the next several weeks, Randy would continuously steer them toward festive activities they could enjoy as a group. The one constant, regardless of where they went and what they did, was the vibe. The trio never ceased to have a good time, and laughter was their common language.

  Another constant, though one that took more time to present itself, was that Dorothy and Randy seemed to continually gravitate closer to one another as they roamed the streets on their adventures. That and the interesting fact that Dorothy in general was starting to look less like the girl who thought she was Death, and more like a happy young woman.

  Randy, likewise, was undergoing an attitude shift. For the first time in years, he finally looked less like a depressed widower and more like a contented man. One rapidly becoming enamored of the lovely young woman he found in his company once a week. He really would have liked to see her more often, and, to his fortune, a rather nasty flu making the rounds of Camview would shortly grant his wish.

  With schedules shuffled and shifted to cover sick employees, Dorothy and Curtis found themselves left to their own devices as the nasty flu spread through the staff. Pestilence had gone silent once more, and Dorothy found her frequent visits to his locked door filled more with frustration than hope.

  A whole different set of emotions churned in Dorothy as the days passed as well. While she was certainly looking forward to seeing Randy again, she also found herself deeply engaged in her mystic studies. She was finally beginning to understand the subtleties of the rune structures hidden in the pages of her old book, but she was also beginning to feel a little torn between her possible paths home. With no other option for the time being, she focused on what was accessible to her.

  Many hours, and several more stolen pieces of chalk later, she felt she was actually getting somewhere. Though not nearly ready, the runes were taking shape into something that felt right.

  Dorothy wound up so caught up with her mystical studies, that time passed without her noticing. Before she knew it, the weekend had arrived.

  Short-handed, Camview came to a grinding halt come nighttime, and with the hallways empty and the staff spread even thinner than usual, Dorothy and Curtis’s escape was actually relatively easy to swing. They even managed to sneak out a bit early, as the overworked staff had put the patients to bed earlier than usual after an exhausting evening covering multiple sick people’s jobs.

  With the crazies in their rooms, the staff finally took a much-needed break from an overwhelming shift, and Dorothy and Curtis easily snuck down the halls of Camview.

  And so it was that they made their trek early, merrily strolling to the diner where Randy sat waiting for them in their usual booth, reclining comfortably as he savored a cup of hot chocolate.

  He spotted them and waved happily, and whether it was the warmth of the diner, or just seeing Randy again, Dorothy felt a slight flush rise to her face. In fact, aside from her rosy cheeks, her overall appearance had been decidedly less cold in recent days, a bit of life finally showing through her skin despite the cool seasonal temperatures.

  As they approached their friend, Dorothy could smell the alluring aroma of his beverage, sensing not his usual cup of molten lava coffee, but a mug of thick, dark cocoa, the tiny marshmallow boats floating in the chocolaty sea, sinking as they slowly dissolved into pools of saccharine tastiness.

  “Hey, there you are,” he said, the smile growing larger on his face as Dorothy walked closer. “I was wondering if you were going to stand me
up.”

  “I’d never stand you up, big boy,” Curtis chimed in with a chuckle.

  Randy snorted a bemused laugh and rose from his seat, greeting Curtis with a friendly fist bump (with an explosion flourish).

  After his wife had passed, it had been tough making new friends as an adult, especially during his hiatus from the art scene. Though he was back in the gallery world again, he had remained rather folded-in, only seeing the same few people for the most part, not really connecting with anyone new. Of course, he realized why his social circle had shrunk.

  In the real world, you’re no longer surrounded by thousands of people taking classes with you, and if you don’t happen to wind up working in a large group environment, you typically just don’t meet that many new people in your daily activities. On top of that, most of the people riding the bus with him, who weren’t raving vagrants that is, were walled off behind their ramparts of earbuds and cell phones.

  Coming from that history, it was particularly satisfying that Randy and Curtis had really taken to one another, quickly becoming buddies even though they had only recently made each other’s acquaintance.

  Randy turned to Dorothy, someone else he had grown quite fond of, though in a very different way.

  As he moved toward her, his body language betrayed a tad of uncertainty as he internally debated how exactly to greet her. He finally settled on a hug, though one they both held a bit longer and a bit tighter than either expected. Stepping back, Dorothy broke the tension, pointing to his beverage.

  “Reverting to your childhood, I see,” she quipped, dipping her finger in his melting marshmallows to steal a taste.

  “Nah, just wanted to get in the festive spirit, is all.”

  “Oh?” she said, one arched eyebrow raised with curiosity.

  Curtis flopped down into the booth lengthwise, leaving Dorothy and Randy no choice but to sit next to one another as they took a seat and joined him in his repose. Appearing from nowhere, Angela dropped off two more mugs of cocoa.

  “We didn’t—” Curtis began.

  “Saw you two come in. Randy told me what you were doing tonight, and I thought you’d want to warm up with a cup first to get in the spirit.”

  “Spirit of what?” he asked, tossing a curious glance at Randy as he reclined comfortably in his red vinyl cozy-spot. “I want to do something fun tonight, and judging by that grin, shall I assume you have something up your sleeve?”

  Randy couldn’t contain his smile any longer. “Oh, I’ve got something fun lined up alright.”

  “Fun?” Dorothy queried.

  “Yeah, you know, that thing that’s the opposite of ‘not fun,’” Curtis teased as he reached across the table and drew his mug of hot cocoa close.

  “Yeah, definitely the opposite of ‘not fun,’” Randy joked as he watched Curtis wipe marshmallow foam from his lips. “Come on, you two, drink up and get warm. We’ve got a bit of a trek to make,” he said, a gleam in his eye. “But trust me, you’re gonna love this.”

  CHAPTER 21

  It had taken a little while navigating a few late-night buses before Dorothy and her companions at last arrived at their destination. Curtis’s eyes lit up at the sight.

  “Oh hell, yes!” he yelped with glee.

  Several hours later, the cheerful trio lined up at the final hole on a classic miniature golf course Randy had steered them to.

  Curtis kept raving about how amazed he was one even still existed within the city, having assumed they’d all long ago gone the way of the video game arcade. But this one somehow survived, and seemed to be thriving, surprisingly crowded with exuberant youth.

  The ridiculous buildings fit the expectations of a mini-golf course, with the usual assortment of obstacles and whimsical structures strewn across the premises, each one unique in its theme and difficulty.

  As was common on so many courses, when the trio had finally played their way through and arrived at the end of the game, a giant windmill stood before them, tilted askew, lacking only a faux Don Quixote as its blades slowly transcribed a lazy arc as they blocked the cup with each rotation.

  Randy was in last place, so he had the honor of being the first to step up to the tee for his final putt. He leaned over and set his Day-Glo yellow ball on the ground before lining up his shot. Then, with a little butt shimmy, he took an untraditional stance and wound up for his swing.

  “No way you make this.”

  “Shut up, Curtis. Let him take his shot,” Dorothy laughed. Though I think you’re probably right on this one, she thought as she watched him take a practice swing.

  “Both of you give it a rest. I’ve got this,” Randy chuckled. He may have had the worst score of the three, but he was having a delightful time engaging in adolescent games with his friends. Of course, mini golf is all about the fun, and not so much about the score, and by that metric, he was clearly a winner.

  Finally, Randy swung his club, the face tapping the ball firmly, sending it rolling toward the tunnel that would deposit it right into the cup.

  “I’ve got it! Yes!” he exclaimed. It looked like he’d finally made a perfect putt, but at the last moment, the slowly rotating arm of the windmill barely tagged the ball, sending it careening off course as it snatched success from his grasp.

  “Gah, stupid windmill!” he griped.

  “Step aside, Tiger, it’s my turn,” Dorothy said playfully as she plopped her orange ball in place. She took just one glance at the spinning arms of the windmill, and without hesitation, knocked the ball toward the hole.

  “Comeon-comeon-comeon…”

  Denied. Her ball was also knocked to the side.

  “So close!” she jokingly lamented.

  “Uh-huh? No. Not even. Now watch Uncle Curtis closely, kids. Class is in session.”

  Curtis stepped up to the tee with a cocky air and dropped his ball to the turf. He barely hesitated long enough for it to sit still, then putted it straightaway. Dorothy and Randy watched in amazement as the ball rolled.

  Naturally, as is often the case with cocky bastards, his putt cruised past the swinging arms of the windmill, rolled through the funnel, and right into the hole.

  “Yeah now! That’s how you do it!” Curtis goaded. “Man, you guys suck.”

  Randy gave him a playful kick in the ass. “Hey, I haven’t played since I was a kid.”

  “And I’ve never played at all,” Dorothy chimed in. “It’s a fun game though. Thank you, Randy. This was an excellent idea.” She smiled warmly at him, and he reciprocated, holding her gaze a bit longer than usual.

  “Yeah dude, this was a good call,” Curtis agreed, noticing their shared moment. “Hey, why don’t you two give me your clubs. I’ll go return them for us. Go-karts next?”

  “Sounds good.”

  They handed their shiny chrome implements of golfing failure over to Curtis just as something caught his eye across the park.

  “Ooh, do you see that?” he asked excitedly, his eyes wide with joy. “We have just lucked out! Cotton candy! You guys want one? Wait, what am I saying? Of course you want one.”

  “No, thanks,” said Dorothy.

  “Seriously? How about you, Randy?”

  “I’m good, thanks, though.”

  “Wow. Okay, your loss. Food of the Gods I tell ya!” he said as he started walking toward the club rental kiosk. “I’ll meet you guys at the karts.”

  Randy and Dorothy turned and started casually strolling toward their next adventure. Walking side by side, Randy glanced at Dorothy with a little smile.

  “So, are you any better at go-karting than at mini golf?”

  “I’ve never driven one,” she replied. “Actually, I’ve never driven anything.”

  “You know, I’m starting to think you really did come from Amish country,” he said as he playfully bumped her with his hip.

  Randy was amused and in great spirits, but a small cloud of doubt seemed to cling to Dorothy as they walked.

  He’s such a good man, she th
ought. I can’t lead him on. He deserves to know the truth.

  “Hey, Randy,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “Listen, I have to be honest with you about something, although so far that seems to bring me nothing but problems.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Well, you’re a great guy, and, well, I think I need to be up front with you.”

  “Um, okay,” he replied. “But you’re not actually a forty-year-old man in disguise, are you?” he asked with a wink.

  She paused for a moment, not sure if she should let him in. Despite her gut telling her he’d be understanding, she also knew this could very well end their friendship.

  It’s the right thing, regardless. He should know.

  “Okay, look,” she began. “My name’s not really Dorothy.” She paused, looking at his face for a reaction. So far he seemed curious but not off-put. “I’m not Dorothy because I am actually Death. I know it’s not what you expected to hear, but I am Death, and I’m trapped in human form. I don’t know how or why it happened, but here I am, all flesh and blood for whatever reason. Okay, I said it. There. Go ahead and freak out now.”

  She felt her pulse racing as she waited for his inevitable crazy girl comment before turning and running away, but it never came.

  “Wow, that’s heavy,” he said after a moment. “So you mean you’ve never driven a go-kart because you’ve been a trans-dimensional non-corporeal soul-reaping entity?”

  “More or less.”

  “And you were too busy offing people around the globe to learn to drive, but now you’re human?”

  Oh, great, here it comes.

  “Hmm, I don’t know, it doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, I think it sounds like an amazing opportunity. I mean, even the simplest things are new experiences for you, right?”

  “You’re making fun.”

  “No, I’m serious. Why look at your situation as a curse? Think of all the cool things you get to do for the first time.”

  “So you’re not freaked out by this?” she asked.