Death's Mantle

by Harmon Cooper

  “You lead the way,” Lucian said.

  “It is a bit of a long walk, but the desert is beautiful at night and it will do us good. Don’t you think the desert is beautiful?”

  “It is something.” Lucian took a look around again, not used to seeing a place so dry, so utterly treeless.

  The moon was giving off enough light to show a few cactus clusters, which was about the only thing in the area that resembled vegetation. It was a stark contrast to what Lucian was used to in New England, with all of its trees, and the proximity to the beach.

  “This is nothing like where we’re from,” Old Death said, “which is why I like it.”

  “You’re from Massachusetts as well?”

  Old Death shook his head. “No, I’m from New York City. I was born there in 1695, believe it or not. Not far from what is currently Central Park. My father came from England to oversee trade shipments. He met my mother, who was the daughter of a man who ran a general store and they fell in love. They had me first, and a few siblings to follow. I was dead at twenty-five.”

  “What did you die from?”

  “Dysentery. Not so uncommon at the time. My sister died of this too, but my brother didn’t. He moved from New York to Pennsylvania, and had a pretty successful farm there. His descendants are still alive now. I suppose there’s hope for my bloodline,” the elderly man said with a sad chuckle.

  “And why did Death choose you to take his mantle?”

  “I was an ornery young man, and as soon as he came for me I started screaming at him. Calling him all sorts of insults, and telling him to bugger off. I guess he liked my tenacity. Aside from that, he had been doing it for a long time, since the Middle Ages from what he told me. It wears you out, you know?”

  Lucian nodded. He sensed movement to his left and turned to see a snake slithering into a hole.

  His vision was enhanced as Death, something he totally appreciated in the dark desert now that he was able to see some of the wildlife go about their business.

  “How many people do you think die every day?” Old Death asked.

  “Must be thousands upon thousands.”

  “One hundred and fifty thousand people die per day. Think about that for a moment. So when I say this job gets stressful, I mean it. There’s always someone ready to die and if there were more of us, we’d be able to really help the human population move on.”

  “I still haven’t come to grips with this part yet,” Lucian said. “Why is what we’re doing helpful? What’s wrong with just letting someone live?”

  Old Death shrugged. “I suppose I have stopped thinking deeply about that part. I just do the same job that Death before me did. I never much questioned it.”

  “All I can do is question.”

  “Maybe the difference between our mindsets, considering the eras in which we were born. Not that people couldn’t get a little rambunctious in my day, but religion kept us from really exploring our minds. And sure, there were drugs and alcohol at the time, but nothing like they have now, nothing like people have been able to use since. Well, I suppose that is incorrect, but I wasn’t born in South America, though I did know about some of the practices down there.”

  “So you don’t have an answer for why you think what we do is helpful?”

  “Does the lizard that runs across the desert chasing an insect know if what it’s doing is helpful or not? Does the lizard know that he’s playing part in the ecosystem by controlling the insect population? Or is he simply hungry? Everyone has a fixed amount of time to be alive, and I don’t question this. If everyone continued to be alive indefinitely, there wouldn’t be space for new people to be born.”

  “I don’t know,” Lucian said as they started up a slope. “It seems like if we weren’t active, people would just die when they die.”

  “It’s much more than that. I know that I haven’t been totally clear with you about what we do, but what we do is part of the chain of events that needs to happen for reality to progress. Of this I am certain. There comes a time when people must step aside and let others live. Did you ever think about that when you were alive?”

  “About what?”

  “That you had a finite amount of time to be alive. When you were two years old, you had twenty-eight summers left. When you were fifteen, you had fifteen winters left. It is easy to think about these things in this way once you become one of us, but it is hard to accept them when you are alive. I only wish people knew. What would the world be like if people knew when they were going to die? What if they had the time to make amends, get their ducks in a row, or simply do something they always dreamed of doing?”

  “It’s a little morbid to think about those things.”

  “Sometimes I wish people spent more of their time realizing that they were going to die and less of their time distracted by the pleasures of reality. Had you known you were going to die a few days back, what would you have done differently? Who would you have visited? Who would you have asked to join you one last time? Instead, when I came to you, you were playing video games.”

  “It’s a damn good video game,” Lucian said with a chuckle.

  It was nice to be able to laugh about these things now, but at that moment he recalled what it had been like to be sitting in his living room when Death came, the injuresouls swarming in, their faces bandaged.

  He still couldn’t believe firing his pistol at them actually worked.

  “I suppose different cultures have different ways of dealing with Death. That is one thing I’ve come to learn in this role. From the Asians, who take care of their dying parents, to the west, who usually place them in a home.”

  “My mom looked after my dad,” Lucian said, “and I’m guessing my brother would look after her. So not everyone fits the mold. But then there’s the parasite on my brother, the one you can’t see. That would stop him from being able to take care of my mom.”

  “I recall.”

  “You saw his date of death, right?”

  “I did. He is set to die in just over seven months.”

  Lucian stopped. He was about to continue walking, but he figured telling Old Death what he had learned from Yoshimi was worth his time. He detailed his visit to Kyoto, and how he had been saved by the female Death.

  “She saved you?”

  “Yes, and then she took me to her home, which seemed to be in Antarctica, or maybe Siberia, somewhere extremely cold and frozen. She said that what I saw on my brother was real,” Lucian said, conviction in his voice. “She can see these things too and is able to kill them. Her power came after World War II. Well, at the end of World War II, during the bombings.”

  “There were a few Deaths who took advantage of that situation to grow incredibly powerful,” the elderly man said, now floating a bit faster. “And I have heard of similar discussions at the Council of Death, but there is a lot of debate about these obscure parasites.”

  “Why is it so important for some Deaths to believe that there is only one type of parasite?”

  “That’s not exactly what the debate is about. The true debate is about our role in handling these other parasites. We have been doing the same thing for hundreds of thousands of years, hunting parasites that were prolonging a person’s life. Hunting these obscure parasites would give us the power to free someone from different types of ailments. So that is what the debate is about. This other Death led you to believe it was about if these parasites are real or not, but that is incorrect. What it’s really about is our role in all this.”

  “You acted like they didn’t even exist at first.”

  Old Death shrugged. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it.”

  “So you believe me then, that I can see this thing attached to my brother.”

  “I believed you when you told me then; I just don’t want you to be distracted by these types of things. It is rare that situations such as this are cut and dry, and there are many sides to it that I was hoping you would avoid until you were a bit more powerful.
”

  “I have to do something about it,” Lucian said, his voice lowering.

  “I know you do; I know you do.” Old Death looked up at the star-filled sky. “Or you will forever be haunted by his spirit. I suppose that’s not quite how spirits and ghosts work, but it will haunt you.”

  “Have you encountered spirits or ghosts?”

  “I have encountered many things that defy explanation, and ghosts are no exception. Regarding spirits, you should pay a visit to a Tibetan family one day and see how they handle their dead. You may find it enlightening.”

  The two Grim Reapers floated through the entrance of a nursing home called the Albuquerque Hospice Center, an adobe-style building with a statue of a lone cactus out front.

  “As I said, low-hanging fruit,” Old Death told him.

  A nurse with tired eyes and a disgruntled look on her face stepped out of one of the rooms. She tapped on her front pocket for her pack of cigarettes, licking her lips as she started to head toward the exit.

  Name: Onyeka Onwenu

  Date of Birth: 01/15/1965

  Date of Death: 03/31/2018

  “You see it?” Old Death asked, his gaze following a peach-colored parasite attached to the woman’s side. It trailed on the ground behind her, leaving a wet mark on the floor.

  “Definitely.”

  Before the parasite could respond, the elderly man equipped his sword and cut the creature in half. The portion still attached to the woman’s body doubled in size and produced spikes as it hissed.

  Old Death reached out for it, and slammed his hand into the center of the parasite, yanking it off the woman as it squealed.

  He brought his sword right up under the space that Lucian assumed was its chin and tossed it to the ground.

  An energy radiated off the parasite’s body and spiraled into Old Death’s chest.

  The nurse stopped at the door, waiting for it to slide open as she fished for her lighter in her pocket. She stepped out into the night, oblivious to the two robed men floating in the hallway, or the parasite one of them had just killed.

  “Let’s continue,” Old Death said. “This will give you a chance to practice making quick kills. Just be careful here. Like a hospital, the parasites at a hospice center can all be alerted at once. Some are bigger than others; I have also seen a few of them merge together to form one large parasite. You don’t want that.”

  “Definitely not,” Lucian said as they came to a room divided by a curtain.

  Lucian equipped his MX-11 and fired a concentrated shot directly into the body of the parasite on the right, which had just started to notice their presence.

  The creature came alive, swelling its form, stingers and tentacles lifting off its body.

  Lucian blasted it again, as Old Death laughed at the weapon.

  “That is quite a gun!” he said as Lucian fired off another shot, the power pack on the side of his futuristic weapon blinking.

  He handed the large gun to Old Death as his scythe appeared. Lucian sliced through some of the tentacles that now spiraled toward him.

  “Impressive.” Old Death aimed the weapon at the parasite and squeezed the trigger. The blast went wide, even at his close proximity.

  “It packs a punch.” Lucian dove toward the parasite with his scythe overhead, where he brought the blade directly into the center of its body.

  The creature let out a hiss and a squeal, energy radiating off of it and directly into Lucian.

  “I prefer older guns,” Old Death said, handing Lucian back his concentrated energy weapon, the upper receiver still warm.

  “I figured you would say that.”

  As the two moved into a dining area, a flash of light caused both of them to shield their eyes.

  Two male angels dropped to the ground, menacing looks on their faces as golden helmets formed. The one with the sword had long dark hair, the other had a charged hand and an enormous ax.

  “Should we go?” Lucian asked.

  Old Death slowly shook his head. “Not this time, my boy, let’s see what these backgammon players want.”

  “Backgammon players?”

  “You heard me,” Old Death said, his demon-hilted sword appearing as he returned his focus to the two angels. “If it isn’t a pair of dandy prats…”

  Lucian dropped his hand onto Old Death’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Normally, I would run, and I would tell you to do the same,” his predecessor said out of the corner of his mouth, “but we were out here having a peaceful night, only to be disturbed by these two blubbering lobcocks. I spent the last hundred years avoiding Life. Now I’m ready to address it head-on. You should go.”

  Lucian looked at the two angels, both of whom brought their weapons to the ready.

  “I’m staying with you,” he finally said.

  “Just be sure to leave if things get out of hand,” Old Death told him. “This isn’t your fight.”

  The angel with the charged hand brought his arm back, pushing forth an incredible beam of golden energy. It swept toward Lucian and Old Death, tearing out a portion of the wall.

  Lucian went to the ceiling, and Old Death fell onto his back, sliding under the angel’s attack. He popped right back up, his sword meeting the man’s ax.

  Their weapons clinked together, Old Death spilling to the ground again. He disappeared into a mist of milky shadow, coming up behind the angel and latching onto one of his wings.

  “Got you now, you filthy shabbaroon!”

  He brought his sword up and severed the man’s wing in a matter of seconds, the angel roaring as he tried to throw his elbow at the Old Death.

  Using his whip, Lucian lassoed the other angel’s feet and yanked him to the ground. The man swung his sword at Lucian, which clipped him in the shoulder and sent him flying backward into the wall.

  He righted himself, now standing upside down on the ceiling as he charged the angel, fire flaring around his hands, flaming daggers launching from his palms.

  The angel blocked most of Lucian’s attacks with his golden gauntlets, but he was unable to prevent Lucian from tackling him, and the two rolled into a wall.

  They should have rolled right through it, but as Lucian had noticed before, the tangibility of this plane changed once combat began, leaving them crashing into the wall.

  Now on top of the angel, Lucian kicked the man’s sword away. He started to choke the angel, feeling a hatred for the man that he couldn’t quite explain.

  What had the angel ever done to him?

  This moment of hesitation gave the angel the chance he needed to knock Lucian off, his sword reforming in his hand.

  He rolled on top of Lucian and tried to use both arms to drive the sword straight into his chest, only to be bucked off at the last second.

  Lucian had already equipped his shotgun, which he used to fire a shot directly through the angel’s body.

  “You’ll never stop me!” the angel said, hacking up blood.

  “We don’t have to do this,” Lucian reminded the dark-haired angel.

  The man struggled to get to his feet, only to be slammed aside by the other angel.

  Lucian looked up to see Old Death holding a wing in one hand, his bloodied blade in the other, his white hair his face, a dark look in his eyes as he swayed side to side.

  “For three hundred years you two have been giving me hell,” he said, sheer animosity radiating off of him.

  “You will die today, demon,” the man with the missing wing said.

  A golden flash signaled the arrival of three more angels, two males and one female.

  “Danira?” Lucian asked, taking a step back as his MX-11 appeared in his hands.

  The woman with blonde hair and the blue stripe over her eyes looked to him, an enormous rifle forming in her hands.

  Except hers was larger than Lucian’s, rimmed in gold with a detailed design on the handguard. A huge magazine jutted from the front of it and an energy pack bulged from its side.
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br />   “I didn’t know you played with guns,” he started to say.

  “I do now, demon.”

  Her first shot hit Lucian dead center in the chest, sending him through a wall. The building material collapsed on him, kicking dust up into the air.

  Lucian managed to get to his feet as another blast hit him in the shoulder, an intense pain spreading through his body as he looked down to see that part of his arm was now blown off, splintered bone jutting out of the bloody wound.

  Danira stepped into the hole in the wall, pointing the weapon at his face.

  “They attacked us,” he started to say as the armor-clad angel brought the muzzle of the gun to his forehead.

  “That doesn’t matter to me.”

  Lucian’s robes came alive, pulling her down, forcing her to fire at the ceiling.

  He continued to grow the size of his robes, smothering her, wrapping Danira up and tossing her to the side.

  Lucian had to get to Old Death.

  With this in mind, he shouldered back out of the hole in the wall, growing the claws on the good arm he had left. He met one of the male angels who now had his back to Lucian, and brought his clawed hands under the man’s face, pulling back and snapping his neck.

  A blunt force struck him in the back, Danira on the attack again. The force slammed him into the ground, driving him face-first into the floor.

  Lucian’s robes came up and over, swirling to protect him from any more attacks. His face now pressed to the sword, his vision dimming, Lucian saw Old Death fall to one knee.

  “No!” he shouted, reaching out toward his predecessor, his hand sliced off by a dark-skinned female with bladed arms.

  Lucian rolled to the side, avoiding another blast from Danira’s rifle.

  His whip in his good hand, he tried to latch onto Old Death’s foot, hoping to teleport away with him.

  The woman with bladed arms severed his weapon, coming toward him and driving both blades into the small of his back.

  The pain reaching the back of his skull now, Lucian glanced right to see that they were wrapping a golden robe around Old Death, binding him, and the old man was on his side wheezing.