chapter 18
Dark skies rumbled overhead, an ominous precursor of the coming storms. Bolts of lightning streaked across the late afternoon clouds, followed by a clap of thunder so strong it shook David’s car.
Not that he minded. In fact, it suited his mood just fine.
A little over a day had passed since learning of Sarah’s scheduled termination. During that time he’d skipped denial and plunged headfirst into anger, his thoughts turning increasingly bitter with each passing minute.
It was all so fucking unfair. He’d finally found somebody to love, someone who loved him, flaws and all, only to have her ripped away. Why her? Why now? Was this Fate’s idea of a sick joke?
Inside, he raged against the injustice of it all, a vile hostility that had taken root in his soul and spread like a cancer through his psyche. He wanted to lash out at something—anything—to make someone else experience the pain he was feeling. He slanted a glance at Adam, thought about how good it would feel to haul off and belt him one.
He shook his head, forcing the impulse from his mind. He had just enough rationality left to realize it wasn’t fair to lash out at the kid for something he didn’t do. Besides, he’d actually come to like Adam during the course of his training and was pretty sure the kid wouldn’t take kindly to being turned into his personal punching bag.
“They really shouldn’t be working outside in this weather,” Adam said, pulling David from his thoughts. Outside, two men stood on ladders propped against the front of the building, working at a feverish pace to finish their job before the storm broke. “Someone could get hurt.”
“No shit.” David cracked the window open to let in some fresh air. “I doubt we’re here for the ambiance.”
Together they watched as the workers rushed to install the last sections of gutters. The men worked quickly, speaking to each other in Spanish while they attached the gutters to the eaves with a skill that only comes after years of repetition. They were connecting the last section to the downspout when the storm finally broke, a torrential downpour that soaked them to the bone in a matter of seconds.
“Should be any time now,” Adam muttered, his muscles tensed and his gaze riveted on the pair. The short, older man was busy packing away their tools and loading them into the back of the van, while his partner moved one of the ladders away from the building.
David smiled in spite of his mood. The kid had come a long way in a short period of time. Another couple weeks and he’d be flying solo.
“Which one will it be?” David asked, testing Adam’s abilities even further.
Adam’s brow scrunched tight with concentration. “I’ll put my money on the guy with the ladder.”
David nodded. The kid was right on the money. In less than a minute, something unpleasant was going to happen to the tall young man wearing faded denim overalls.
In the back seat, Buford began to whine. Whether it was because he sensed imminent danger or because he wanted to christen the nearby bushes was anybody’s guess.
“It’s okay, boy.” Adam reached back to give the dog an affectionate scratch behind the ears.
As if on cue, the man in the overalls hoisted the second ladder away from the house. He’d probably meant to tip the twenty-eight-foot ladder just enough so he could lay it on the ground. But he pulled a little too hard and the ladder swung back, making contact with the overhead power line and sending a few thousand volts through the length of metal. The guy jerked, then stiffened, then went limp and collapsed to the ground.
“Your turn,” David said, nodding toward the final reap of the day. When Adam opened his mouth to object, he added, “I did the last one, remember?”
Adam’s mouth snapped shut, his expression darkening at the memory. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” He let out a sigh and opened the car door. “When you put it that way, getting wet doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Damn right it’s not.” The reap before this one scored about a seven out of ten on the Puke Meter. It involved a tractor-trailer whose driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and a highway construction worker who hopefully never knew what hit him. The resulting bloodbath shut down two lanes of traffic on I-4 and made one of the responding paramedics physically ill.
If given the choice, he’d work a thousand of those jobs if it spared Sarah from her appointment with destiny.
Adam got out of the car and jogged across the street to where the body lay sprawled out on the lawn. The man’s partner was crouched down beside him, shouting an incoherent stream of Spanish while pumping on his chest in a desperate attempt to revive him.
David watched while Adam knelt down beside the pair, playing the role of concerned citizen as he collected the soul, the second man oblivious to the essence of his friend drifting up and merging with Adam’s body.
“Come on, hurry up,” David muttered under his breath. While Adam’s skills had improved considerably, he still had the troublesome habit of lingering. Sympathetic by nature, the kid wasted too much time consoling those left behind, whether they were family, friends, coworkers, or bystanders. Which was fine and dandy, except when the scene got busy with too many witnesses.
Already, residents were emerging from their homes, curious to see what all the fuss was about. They huddled close under clusters of umbrellas, trading bits of information in their quest to piece together what happened. A few showed genuine concern, while others watched with a morbid fascination, eager to take in all the gory details. One kid shot pictures with his cell phone camera. Eventually, the compassionate ventured onto the lawn to console the grieving worker, now a sobbing heap on the finely manicured St. Augustine grass.
Adam finally disentangled himself from the scene, jogging across the street as the blare of sirens filled the air and an ambulance sped around the corner.
“Poor bastard,” Adam said as he slid back into the car. The strobe effect from the ambulance lights cast a reddish glow across his face, highlighting the strain around his eyes. Rain had soaked him to the bone, his dark hair plastered against his head and his clothes clinging to his body. He ran a hand through his hair, dragging the wet strands away from his forehead. “The other guy was his brother in-law. They just started their own business a little over a year ago.”
“You’ve got to stop making each case personal,” David said. He started the car and swung out onto the main road, crossing paths with a police car en route to the scene. The kid was probably too green to take his advice, but he was going to dish it out anyway. “It’s going to eat you alive if you don’t.”
As a fledgling reaper, David had spent his early years on Asian battlefields, collecting the souls of soldiers who never made it home outside a military casket. Yeah, it had been personal. Too personal. It had taken him years to learn the lesson and disengage his emotions.
Adam shot him a harsh look. “And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“Stop lingering, for starters.” David merged onto I-4, slipping behind a dump truck full of sand. “The less time you spend with the mark, the better.”
And don’t even think about falling in love with one. Talk about a soul-sucking kick to the nuts.
“I don’t linger,” Adam said, his voice taking on a defensive tone.
“Yes, you do. You hang around a lot longer than necessary, and you allow yourself to get engaged in conversation. Not good. It sucks you in emotionally.”
“What am I supposed to do? If someone talks to me, I can’t just ignore them.”
“Sure you can,” David said without missing a beat. He took the exit to Kaley, forcing his way in front of a silver SUV. The driver honked and David flipped him the bird. “Or say as little as possible. Then get the hell out of Dodge and don’t look back.”
Adam crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his chin downward. Great. Now he was going to sulk for the rest of the drive home. Oh well, at least he wasn’t whistling, and it gave David some quiet time to figure out what he was going to do about Sarah.
In less than twenty-four hours something tragic was going to happen to the woman he loved. He’d be damned if he was going to sit back and watch it happen. There had to be a way around the rules, some way to make sure she wasn’t at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Have you ever had an appointment not show up?”
“Nope.”
“Really? In all these years?”
“Never. I think Fate has this thing down to a science.”
But did she really? What would happen if Sarah didn’t go to work Thursday? Thousands of people died in the United States every day, would one be missed? Would Fate come knocking on her door, or pass her over completely? He honestly didn’t know, but it was his only shot at pushing back her date of expiration.
Decision made, he needed to find a way to keep her from going to work. That should be easy enough, he thought, a sliver of hope beginning to take root. He’d use any and all means necessary to keep her far from Cava Tech, even if it meant tying her up and locking her in the closet.
A plan of action had hatched in his mind by the time he pulled into a parking spot across from his apartment building. There were a few minor details he still needed to iron out, as well as a backup strategy in case his first idea didn’t work. But by tomorrow morning, he’d have every angle covered. It was his only chance at keeping Sarah alive.
Even though he felt stressed and exhausted, David’s mood brightened when he saw a light shining inside Sarah’s apartment. His mood got even better when she came to the window, smiling at him like he was the greatest thing since sliced bread.
“Looks like your girlfriend’s waiting up for you.” Adam waggled his eyebrows. “Damn, she looks pretty hot in that—ouch!” He rubbed the back of his head where David just cuffed him.
“Don’t be disrespectful.” His eyes cut back to the window in time to see Sarah laughing at them, her smile so full of life it made his heart swell. No way was he letting go of that. She moved away from the window and closed the blinds, but the lights stayed on.
“Last minute change of plans, Newbie,” David said once they were inside his apartment. He scribbled the essential information on a piece of paper and handed it to Adam. “You’re working a job with Dmitri tomorrow afternoon. He’ll meet you there.”
“Why?” Confused, Adam glanced down at the paper. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” David replied, giving Adam his best don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. The fewer questions the kid asked, the better. “There’s something I’ve got to take care of tomorrow, so you’re pairing up with Dmitri again. Just make sure you’re on time, because he’ll ride my ass if you’re late.”
Adam opened his mouth to ask another question, saw the look of warning on David’s face, and closed his mouth. Instead he looked down again, studying the address. “This looks really familiar,” he murmured a few seconds before it dawned on him. “Oh man, this is the place Sarah works, isn’t it?”
David didn’t answer. He’d hoped the kid wouldn’t catch on until he pulled up to the gates of Cava Tech. By then he’d have Sarah safely tucked away.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Adam put two and two together and cursed under his breath. “Man, talk about a classic case of do as I say, not as I do. Goddamn hypocrite.”
David turned to meet the disapproving scowl of his apprentice. The kid was right, which was the only reason he hadn’t punched the little asshole. Since meeting Sarah, he’d broken damn near every rule in the Reaper Handbook. The scary part was he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He was acting on instinct, doing everything in his power to preserve the solitary light of his life. “What do you expect me to do?”
“Your job.” Adam blew out an exasperated breath, his expression wavering between anger and apprehension. “For Christ’s sake, David, how many times have you drilled me about the damn rules? Do you have any idea what’ll happen to you if you go through with this?”
Not exactly, but he assumed it wouldn’t include an afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese. The possibilities flashed through his mind and he ruthlessly shoved them aside. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve made up my mind. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”
“Yeah, that’s what I used to think,” Adam said, his voice ripe with sarcasm. His expression hardened, his mouth fixed in a grim line. “Didn’t work out well for me, either.”
“Look, I don’t expect you to understand, and I don’t need your approval.” David’s heart pounded in his chest. “But I have to do this.”
“Jesus.” Adam crossed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Buford came racing out of the bedroom at the sound of a potential snack, only to give a huff of disappointment when he realized there were no treats on the menu.
Adam pulled out two bottles of Samuel Adams. He opened one before handing the second across the bar to David. “I’m listening, if you want to give it a shot.”
Where to begin? David thought about it while he unscrewed the cap and took a long drink from the bottle. His time as a reaper played out in his memories like a fucked-up version of
This Is Your Life.
How could he articulate the long-term effects of watching death play out day after day, week after week, year after year, without scaring the living shit out of the apprentice who’d only begun the same journey? Sure, there were the occasional breaks from the stress and strain, but overall it was a long, hard slog, one only endured in hopes of achieving salvation.