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Step 5 – What Death Fears

Melbourne, 2003 – 12 Years Before Impact Day

Roxie and Felix sat on the branches of a tall tree, watching the accident unfold. She’d seen dozens of deaths now, carried as many souls to whatever was waiting for them. She still felt the loss of each and every one.

“Does it ever stop feeling so tragic?” she asked, as a car pulled to a stop in front of a level crossing, waiting for the train to pass.

“Knowing what comes after helps,” Felix replied.

“The people they’re leaving behind don’t know,” Roxie pointed out.

A car was hurtling down the road, swerving slightly, showing no signs of slowing down.

“Loss is a part of the human experience,” Felix said.

The train was growing closer.

“Still, a family of four, all dead?” she asked.

“I’ll take the kids,” he said.

“Thanks.”

The swerving car collided with the back of the stopped vehicle, sending it lurching forwards, crashing through the barricade and onto the train tracks. The train’s horn blared, but it was far too late for it to stop.

The force of the collision sent the car flying forward, rolling and bouncing until it landed in a crumpled, smoking heap beside the tracks. The train was screeching to a stop, but there was nothing that could be done.

Roxie and Felix dropped from the tree, landing lightly on their feet, and approached the vehicle. Three spirits shimmered into existence around it. One must still be clinging to life, Roxie realised. Won’t be long now, though.

She approached the parents, a moderately attractive heterosexual Caucasian couple, with fair skin and brown hair. They acknowledged her approach with a mixture of confusion and relief. Carol and Jason Farrow.

“What happened?” Jason asked, his arm wrapped around the shoulder of his wife.

“Are we… dead?” Carol added, glancing back at the wreckage.

“Yes,” Roxie told them, her voice gentle and soft. “I’m sorry.”

“And the girls?” Jason asked, his voice pained.

“I’m so sorry. There was no-”

“STAY AWAY!” a child’s voice screeched, cutting her off. It sent a chill down her spine, and she looked over to Felix, who had already drawn his rapier.

Two girls, looking maybe six and four, were backed up against the car. The older one was standing in front of her sister, defiant and fierce.

“What the…” Roxie muttered.

“Charlotte, I’m sorry,” Felix said calmly. “It has to be this way.”

“No…” Jason said, staring at his daughters.

“Uh, maybe we should wrap this up,” Roxie said, feeling a sudden spike of anxiety.

“But our girls,” Carol said, hesitantly.

“We’ll take care of them,” Roxie assured her. “I promise.”

“What’s going to happen to them?” Jason asked.

“Same thing that’s gonna happen to you. We’re going to take you somewhere safe, and everything will be fine.”

I mean, it’s mostly true.

“Heaven?” Carol asked.

“Yes,” Roxie lied.

Well, it wasn’t technically a lie. Hell basically served the same functions that people attributed to Heaven. The only reason it was called Hell was because… Actually, she didn’t know why it was called Hell. She knew it had about a dozen other names, but none of them were Heaven. There probably was a reason for that, but it didn’t seem important, or pertinent.

“Okay,” Jason said, squeezing Carol’s shoulder. She leaned into him, smiling.

Roxie summoned her scythe, collecting both of them in a single swipe. She could feel their sparks inside of her, and it was a comforting feeling. Every time she collected a soul, she felt connected to them, to the lives they’d once had, to her place in the universe.

“YOU. CAN’T. HAVE. HER.” the older child was screaming, and Roxie turned in time to see Felix actually take a step back. The girl scared him that much? Why?

“What’s going on?” Roxie asked, rushing to his side. As she got closer, she realised there was something different about the girl, though she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what.

“She’s… not dead,” Felix said, eyeing the girl warily.

“What? Then how can she-”

“I don’t know,” he said nervously.

“GO AWAY!” the girl shouted. There was weight behind her words, a force that even Roxie had to admit was a little frightening.

“There’s something wrong here,” Felix said. “She’s not human.”

“Her name is Charlotte, right?”

“Yes.”

Roxie approached the girl, letting go of her scythe. It vanished back into her, and Charlotte relaxed a little, but still stood protectively in front of her sister. Sadie.

“Charlotte, listen. It’s gonna be okay. We’re taking her somewhere safe. She’ll be looked after.”

“She’s staying with me,” Charlotte insisted.

“She can’t,” Felix insisted. “She’s dead. We can’t undo that.”

Charlotte folded her arms and shook her head. Her mannerisms were very much those of a child, but there was something else to them, something unnatural.

“I can still see her. I can still talk to her. She’s staying with me.”

“If she stays, she’ll get worse,” Felix told her. “She won’t be happy. She won’t be herself.”

“I’ll make her happy,” Charlotte insisted.

“It won’t be good for her, Charlotte,” Roxie said gently.

“You can’t take her,” Charlotte repeated, widening her stance. Roxie’s skin was crawling. Something was very, very off about this girl.

“Distract her,” Felix whispered, beginning to circle around her.

Bad idea, her instincts screamed, but she obliged. She had no choice.

“Charlotte, talk to me. Are you afraid to lose her?” she asked.

“I’m not losing her.”

“You have to say goodbye, Charlotte,” Roxie said, her heart breaking a little. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Charlie said.

Felix stood behind Sadie, on the other side to Charlie. He moved quickly, thrusting his blade into the girl’s chest. It was faster than Roxie had ever seen him move. Did fear motivate him that much?

It didn’t matter. However fast he was, the girl was fast. Charlotte whirled, grabbing his blade before it could touch her sister, stopping it. Fear burst forth onto Felix’s face, no longer concealed.

“What the-” he began, but she cut him off.

“MINE!” she shouted, the words booming out into the night.

With a single, savage movement, Charlotte grabbed the sword with her other hand, and snapped it in half. Roxie watched as Felix convulsed, as if his spine had been shattered, and he collapsed to the ground.

“Run,” he whispered.

Charlotte stood over him, cuts appeared all across her body. Blood flowed out of the wounds, circling around her, a gruesome aura that effectively doubled her size. Roxie could feel fury emanating from her in waves, and she was barely able to move.

Helpless, she watched as Charlotte picked up Felix, holding him in the air before snapping his neck and tearing him in half. She flung the two halves away from her, though they disintegrated in the air before getting very far.

Felix is dead. This girl, this thing, just killed a Reaper.

In that moment, she realized it wasn’t Charlotte she was looking at. There was something inside of her, something very dangerous, and very powerful, and very angry. Something Felix had just pissed off. If she wasn’t careful, it would kill her, too.

“What are you?” she asked it.

“DESTROYER,” it replied.

“Why are you protecting her?” Roxie asked, gesturing towards the other girl, tiny and terrified. “You’re not human. She’s not your sister.”

“CHARLOTTE LOVES HER,” it said.

“I need to-” Roxie began, but she was interrupted by the appearance of another young girl. Fair skin, lilac hair, deep purple eyes.

The girl from the hotel? Before I died?

“Don’t,” the girl said.

“Who are you?” Roxie asked, certain it couldn’t be the same person.

“The Child. You collected my soul,” the girl said.

“No, I didn’t”

“You will.”

“How?” Roxie asked, still staring at Charlotte, or the Destroyer, or whatever that thing was. It seemed content to simply stand over Sadie, protecting her.

“Time is weird for your kind,” the Child said. “And mine.”

“Your kind?” What are you?”

“Guardian,” the Child said.

“Which means…?”

“I outrank you. So listen to me, and run.”

“I can’t leave a soul here,” Roxie said, summoning her scythe. If she had to fight both of them, she would. Even if it meant ending up like Felix.

“You don’t have a choice,” the Child said.

“I can-” Roxie began, but the Child interrupted her.

“No, you can’t.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, one of a thousand questions racing through her mind.

“Protecting an investment,” the Child replied.

Roxie tried to move, but the Child was faster. Her movements were graceful, fluid, and completely inhuman. All it took was a single finger, placed on Roxie’s forehead, and everything around her faded to nothing. A blink of her eyes, and she realized she was back in the clearing, now in the midst of winter.

The souls of Jason and Carol Farrow had left her. Felix was gone. She lay there, staring up at the black and purple sky, snowflakes landing gently on her skin.

Who was Charlotte Farrow, really? What was she? And who was that girl?

If she was lucky, it would be a very long time before she had to see either of them again.

 

Next Week: Dead Girls Don’t Cry (Impact Day, Volume 2 begins!)

 

RoxieSo there you go! That’s the end of our 5 week hiatus, and the bonus story that filled the space. I hope you enjoyed it! It’s a bit weird, but it’s all important in the end.

Anyway, if you’ve enjoyed the story so far, consider supporting me on on Patreon, so I can afford to keep writing it. Additionally, you can buy the complete collection of Impact Day on Gumroad. It features a bonus chapter that I’m not releasing online! Also, you can get Roxie as a standalone purchase.

Next Week, Dead Girls Don’t Cry begins! It’s basically like Impact Day, only set earlier, and more full of personal drama and angst. I hope you enjoy it!

Step 4 – Bring Out Your Dead

London, 2209 – 276 Years Before Impact Day

“So, how does this work?” Roxie asked, her gaze sweeping the clearing. She couldn’t see a single visible way out.

“Like this,” Felix said, pressing his palm against the air in front of him. The air shimmered and rippled, and faded to reveal a doorway. “Shall we?”

“You just, make a hole in space, and we walk through it?”

“Yep.”

“Fair enough,” she said, shrugging.

They walked through together, finding themselves on a quiet, familiar street. Roxie looked around, nostalgia warring with a creeping sense of dread.

“This is home.”

“Feels like… about a month,” Felix said. “Since you died. This isn’t your home anymore, Roxie.”

“It’s quiet. And it feels…”

“There’s a lot of death here. Hundreds of thousands in the last month. It’s not usually like this,” Felix said.

“What happened?” she asked, her skin crawling.

“The Outbreak,” he answered, as they started to walk again. “A weaponised virus. Sooner or later it takes over the whole planet. Turns almost everyone into, well, something else. Violent, dangerous, unstable. Those who survive…” He let out a heavy sigh. “You’re gonna come back here a lot, Roxie.”

“Did you know? When you came for me, did you know what was going to happen?”

He didn’t answer her. They walked in silence, and all around them, she could see the signs of a world descending into chaos. Buildings burned, bodies lay strewn across the streets, blood splattered every surface.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what could have caused something like this. A weaponised virus? Someone had done this intentionally? Why? To what end?

Felix led her into a building, passing right through the door. Roxie tried to follow, but found the door as solid as if she were alive. Felix stuck his head through the door.

“Right. Next lesson. Physical objects only exist if you want them to.”

“What?”

“Act like the door isn’t there, and walk through it,” he said, disappearing back inside.

“Fucker,” she muttered.

Alright, just act like the door isn’t there, she repeated to herself. That’s fine. You can do this. It’s not like walking into it would hurt you.

She walked forward with purpose, and was pleasantly surprised when the door offered no resistance. It might as well not have been there.

Weird. But kind of cool.

He led them upstairs, stopping in front of an apartment door. She noticed the lack of blood and bodies. Maybe the violence outside hadn’t made its way in here yet? So then, what were they doing here?

“This is the part that sucks,” he said, resting a hand on the door, not passing through. “Just remember, there’s nothing we can do, nothing we can change. All we do is perform a function.”

“Oliver White,” she said, unprompted. “Why did that name just pop into my head?”

“That’s our soul,” he said.

“Right.”

They passed through the door, into a small apartment. An older man was standing at the window, staring down at the street below. Roxie flinched when he turned around, but his gaze passed right through them.

“He can’t see us?”

“It’s pretty uncommon for people to see us before they die,” Felix explained.

“I saw you.”

“Your business continued after dying,” he said.

“Right.”

The two of them watched as Oliver opened a cupboard, stoic resolution plastered across his face. His fingers trembled as he pulled down a cereal box, and extracted a pistol from it.

“Oh, fuck,” Roxie said.

“We can’t do anything,” Felix reminded her.

His hand found hers and squeezed. Oliver sat on his couch, jaw clenched, hand shaking almost too much to press the gun up into his chin. Roxie could barely maintain her gaze, but it felt disrespectful to look away, somehow.

He pulled the trigger, the gun went off, a bang echoed through the room. His body slumped backwards, and a copy of him shimmered into existence, standing over him.

“What happened?” he asked.

Roxie glanced at Felix, who just inclined his head towards Oliver. Taking the hint, she took a step forwards.

“You’re dead,” she said gently.

“Oh.”

“We’re here to help you move on,” she said, feeling the throbbing of her core, ready to summon her blade.

“I don’t want to move on,” he said. “I just want it all to be over.”

“I can do that, too,” she lied. “Just tell me you’re ready to go.”

He glanced down at his body, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was him. Without any trace of emotion, he looked back over at her, and nodded.

“I’m ready.”

With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her scythe. It materialised in her hand, growing out from her palm.

She didn’t need Felix to explain the process. She just knew, and with a single swipe, she sliced right through Oliver, who winked out of existence, a small spark of energy added to her own.

“He’s inside me,” she said.

“Now we take him home,” Felix told her.

Without needing to be told, she pressed her palm against the air in front of her, thinking about Hell. The space in front of her shimmered and vanished, a portal back to Hell. She stepped through, and Felix followed.

As she passed through, the spark escaped, dissipating into the air. Her instincts told her that was normal, that was okay. That was the Process. Felix nodded at her, confirming her assumptions.

They were back in the clearing, quiet and peaceful. It had changed, though. Rather than feeling like spring, it felt like autumn. All of the trees were orange and red, their leaves scattered across the ground. The sky was a hazy greenish-orange, with no visible source of light.

“So now what?” she asked. “Is there anything between collecting souls?”

“Plenty,” he said. “Once you’ve finished your training.”

She sighed, but nodded, and pressed her palm against the air again. Somehow, she knew where to go. Together, they passed through the portal, into somewhere new.

 

Italy, 1599 – 416 Years Before Impact Day

The air was thick, a black haze that took Roxie too long to identify. Smoke. They were far from any buildings, though in the distance she could see a small village, with very old-fashioned buildings. European architecture, but that was as far as she could identify it.

A crowd of people had gathered around a fire, dressed in dark clothing, voices murmuring. Roxie and Felix wandered through them, completely unnoticed. An uncomfortable stench permeated the air, and Roxie found herself grateful she didn’t need to breath. Inhaling that would have been unbearable. She didn’t know how the crowd could stand that.

When she reached the fire, she felt all of the strength go out of her. It shouldn’t have surprised her, given the apparent time period and their reason for being there, but she wasn’t prepared. Her gut turned over, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

In the middle of the fire was a single pole, and tied to the pole, the blackening body of a young woman, probably not even out of her teenage years. Renata. The girl she was here to collect.

A witch burning? Why? Why did she have to be here? To witness this?

She forced herself to look at the girl, screaming and writhing, struggling against her bonds as her skin blistered and bubbled. Even through the smoke, she recognised the face.

Rebecca?

“Wait, this is…”

“Yeah, it’s her,” Felix confirmed, his shoulders slumping.

“But how? She’s already…”

It didn’t make since. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. How could she be collecting the soul of somebody already dead? Somebody she’d spoken to, who had been her guide?

“Time works differently for us,” Felix reminded her. “And especially for her.”

“For her?”

“She’s… special, I think,” Felix said. “I don’t know the specifics.”

Best not to think about it. Just do your job. Don’t think about it.

“So how does this work?”

“Same as any other,” Felix said gently.

“But-”

“Roxie, do not give anything away,” he cautioned.

“Fine,” she said. “You handle this. It’s too weird for me.”

“Not this time,” he said sadly.

“I can’t. I just, it’s too weird.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Ugh,” she said.

She couldn’t look at the girl any longer. Instead, she stared at the crowd, wondering how they could be so passionate, so angry, so full of hate. How could they watch this at all? How could they allow it to happen?

When the screaming finally stopped, she let herself look again. The body continued to burn, but the girl’s spirit stood beside the fire, staring up at it. Felix nudged her forwards.

“Uh, hey,” Roxie said.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded, turning around. It surprised Roxie to realise they were both speaking Italian. She didn’t even understand Italian. Or, she hadn’t. Apparently she did now.

“Uh. Roxie,” she said. “You’re-”

“Renata,” the girl said.

“Right. I guess so.”

“Are you angels?” Renata asked, tilting her head.

“Yes?”

“Then you can piss off.”

“Excuse me?” Roxie asked, wondering if there was something missing in the translation. How did that even work, anyway?

“I’ve no interest in Heaven,” Renata said coldly. “Goodbye.”

What the Hell is with this girl?

“You don’t just-”

“Look,” Renata interrupted. “I practiced witchcraft. I fell in love with a woman. A demon. You have to send me to Hell.”

“What?”

“Please. I don’t know what else to do.”

She seemed scared, vulnerable. At the same time, there was a fierce determination in her eyes, and Roxie was completely at a loss.

“You want to go to Hell?”

“It’s the only way to see her again,” Renata said.

“Well, this just keeps getting weirder,” Roxie muttered. “Fine, have it your way. Hell it is.”

It’s where you were going anyway, you know.

“Really?”

Roxie reached out her arm, summoning the scythe. Renata watched, fascinated.

“Don’t move. I promise this part doesn’t hurt.”

“I wouldn’t care if it did,” Renata scoffed. “I just got burned to death, remember?”

At that point, Felix stepped in, placing a hand on Roxie’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t remember that pain,” he told Renata.

“Well, I do,” she said irritably.

“Not for long,” Roxie said, shrugging off Felix’s hand.

“Roxie, wait-” Felix called out, but it was too late. She swung the scythe, feeling it connect with Renata’s soul, but it didn’t pass through. Rather, it bounced off, as it if it had hit another blade. Roxie recoiled, feeling the impact all the way up her arm.

“What the shit?

“What are you?” Felix demanded, stepping between Roxie and Renata.

“What?” the girl asked, clearly confused.

“What just happened?” Roxie asked, holding her aching arm.

“She’s still tethered,” Felix said.

“And that means…?”

“She broke off a piece of her soul,” he explained. “We can’t touch her. It’s… It’s magic, incredibly complex witchcraft.”

Renata baulked, staring back at her body. Tears were welling in her eyes.

“But that’s not what I wanted! I just, I wanted a way back, in case…” She trailed off, but the rest of the sentence was clear enough to Roxie.

“So what do we do now?” she asked Felix.

“We open a door,” he said. “She can still go, but she has to choose it.”

“Gladly,” Renata said instantly.

“So you really were weird from the start, huh,” Roxie said, appraising Renata, wondering how one went from that to the person she’d met before.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Roxie said. “Let’s go, kid.”

“Right,” Renata agreed. “Let’s go.” Her eyes scanned the crowed, locating a younger girl with a passing resemblance. The only person in the crowd who seemed to be genuinely upset at Renata’s fate. “Goodbye, Annabelle,” she whispered.

For just a second, Roxie could have sworn she saw the girl smile.

 

Next Week: What Death Fears

Step 3 – If You Can’t Beat Them, Join Them

Hell, ???

The word hung in the air between them. Reaper. Unfamiliar, ominous, strangely resonant. Roxie frowned.

“A Reaper? Black cloak, scythe, that whole business?”

“Is that what the Reaper who collected you looked like?” Rebecca asked, somewhat amused.

“What?” Roxie’s thoughts flashed back to Felix, the well-dressed man who’d chased her down the street. “Oh, right, that guy. Uh. No.”

“Reapers don’t have a set look,” Rebecca said, smirking.

Roxie sighed, turning the hilt over in her hands. She couldn’t help but to feel it looked slightly pathetic.

“Why would I want to be a Reaper? That sounds depressing as all Hell.”

Rebecca’s smirk grew wider.

“Well, they’re stronger than demons. And they spend most of their time anywhere but Hell.”

Roxie tilted her head. “Stronger than demons?”

“They’re the ones who keep stray demons in line. And they can’t be killed.”

“I guess that makes sense.” It was difficult to imagine anything that could kill something that was a part of the cycle of death. Plus, if her experience was anything to go by, you had to already be dead to be a Reaper.

“So?” Rebecca asked.

“I’m not really big on violence,” Roxie said, waving Rebecca off. “Or death.”

“Demons fight a lot more than Reapers do.”

That was an easy enough calculation, then.

“Looks like I’m gonna be a Reaper.”

“Thought so,” Rebecca said. “Let’s go.”

“Just like that?”

“You want more time to think about it?”

“No, I just…” She wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence. “I was expecting a slower process, I guess.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, no, let’s get on with it,” Roxie said. “Lead the way.”

Rebecca put her hand on the door, resting her palm against the wood. She held it there for several seconds before reaching down and pulling it open, revealing an entirely new area behind it.

Roxie followed her through door, into a warm, sunlight clearing surrounded by trees. She couldn’t help but smile to feel the sun on her skin. The breeze was sweetly scented, and she liked the way it tousled her hair.

All around the clearing appeared to be the ruins of a large stone building. At a guess, Roxie would’ve said it was a cathedral of some kind.

A familiar sight awaited her just behind one of the collapsed walls. Felix leant against it, arms folded, eyes closed.

“Hello again,” he said, without opening his eyes.

“Uh, hey.”

She didn’t really know what she was supposed to say to him. It was kind of his fault she was here, wasn’t it? She supposed he was only doing his job, but it was hard not to take it personally.

“I’m not at all surprised to see you here,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling at her.

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“Ha!” He grinned. “I do enjoy your fire.”

“Alright then…”

“I think you’ll make a fantastic Reaper.”

She looked around, trying to figure out exactly where they were. Presumably, some strange corner of Hell, but it seemed far too pleasant for that. A Reaper training ground? There wasn’t a lot around, and no other Reapers that she could see.

“What should I be expecting, here?”

“Heh,” was all Felix said.

“What, ‘heh’?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you ‘nothing’ me,” she said, feeling a lot like she wanted to punch him.

“You’ll see,” he said, grinning. “It’s quite the experience.”

“You-” she began, but she was cut off.

“Careful,” Rebecca said from behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Where did you come from?” Roxie asked.

“Nowhere,” Rebecca replied.

“What’s the deal?”

“You’ve been assigned a mentor,” Rebecca said.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh?” Felix said, bemused.

“Yep,” Rebecca confirmed. “Meet your mentor, Roxie.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Felix said, grinning.

“Kill me,” Roxie muttered. Felix laughed.

Rebecca left the two of them alone, chuckling to herself before vanishing into thin air. At least, Roxie assumed that there was air around them. She didn’t seem to be breathing, except maybe by force of habit.

“Would you like to learn, then?” Felix asked, extending a hand to her. Reluctantly, and a little unsure, she took it.

A very still, cold sense of calm washed over her, radiating from his touch. Her body felt distant, almost intangible, and at the centre of her, a warm, humming presence grew in size.

“Whoa,” she murmured.

“You feel it?”

“It’s warm. I like it.”

“That’s your core,” he explained. “That’s what you form into your blade. If it breaks, you break.”

“That seems risky,” she said.

“I’ve yet to encounter a single force that could break a Reaper’s blade,” he said. “We’re the embodiment of Death itself. Nothing is exempt from that. Nothing can change that.”

She closed her eyes, focusing on the core. She felt the energy pulse and ripple, settling into a comfortable throbbing. Slowly, she let it spread out and fill her, channelling it down her arm, feeling it in her fingers, holding it in her hand. She opened her eyes, let go of Felix’s hand, and felt the energy solidify.

In her hand, she held a messy lump of jagged metal, twisted in on itself. Felix appraised it, his expression bemused.

“Well, that’s…”

“Ugly?” she asked, sighing. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Shape it,” he said.

“How?”

“Hmm…” He took a step back from her, his hand flicking to the side. In an instant, he was holding his rapier, which he immediately pointed at her. “Defend yourself.”

“What-” she began, but he was already attacking. He moved quickly, and she struggled to fend off his blows with her unwieldy scrap-heap of a weapon.

She was pleased to find how easily her body moved. It felt just like it always had, only with all physical restrictions removed. There was no sense of fatigue, or lack of strength, or poor balance. Everything just worked the way it was supposed to, the way she wanted it to.

Felix was relentless, though. She reflected attack after attack, unsure of what would happen if anything actually hit her. Her instincts told her it wasn’t worth finding out, as difficult as it was to protect herself. Her weapon stubbornly retained its shape, though she was at least relieved to find she couldn’t feel the impacts of his blade connecting roughly with it.

“Is something supposed to be happening?” she asked, not the least bit out of breath despite how hard she was pushing herself. That was going to take some getting used to.

“It will when I stop going easy on you,” he said, grinning. His movements grew faster, less predictable. Within seconds, a strike got past her defences, his blade coming within an inch of slicing her open. It was knocked back at the last second by a long, wickedly-curved edge.

Her weapon had changed. No longer a warped mess of misshapen metal, she was holding a long, straight staff, the end of which held a curved blade with a sharp point.

“A scythe?” she said, staring at it with her mouth agape. “A fucking scythe?

“Evidently so,” Felix said, his rapier disappearing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Something wrong?” he asked, clearly holding back laughter.

“I am not going to be a fuckin’ cliché,” she snapped. “Next thing you know I’ll be wearing a black cloak and a skull mask.”

She let go of the scythe, feeling the energy of it flow back into her, its familiar warmth filling her chest. Felix just smiled, adopting a more relaxed pose.

“Fine, so I’m stuck with a scythe. What’s next?” she asked, folding her arms.

“The rest is mostly academic,” he said. “Since you’re such a quick study, I’m sure the rest will be just as painless.”

“Wait, seriously? That’s it?”

“Well, that part usually takes longer, but yes,” he told her. “But if you’d like to spend longer on it, we can delay the lessons on time manipulation?”

Time manipulation?”

If not for the dead seriousness of his tone, she would have assumed he was joking. There was life after death, there was work after death, now there was literal time travel? It was all too much for one day.

“It’s not quite as complicated as it sounds,” he said. “Then again, depending on your perspective, it might be more complicated.”

“Has anyone ever told you how bad you are at explaining things?” she asked.

“Only people too impatient to listen to the explanations,” he retorted.

“Fine. Explain whatever weird time bullshit I need to know.”

“Envision this,” he said, drawing a line in the dirt between them. “This is time, in the world you know.”

“Sure.”

He drew a second line, parallel to the first.

“This is time, in another world,” he said.

“Another world?”

“The world you know is only one of several. Each of them has its own timeline. Though they all mostly match up, they are independent, and not perfectly in synch.”

He drew more lines in the dirt, all parallel. Then he drew two more, running perpendicular, across the top and bottom of the others.

“Hell, or whatever else you want to call it, exists independently of time. We exist independently of even Hell’s time stream, so we tend to come and go in the other worlds in a somewhat non-linear fashion.”

“So, we can time travel?” she asked, struggling to keep up with his explanation.

“Not intentionally,” he replied patiently. “We just go where, and when, we’re sent. It just doesn’t always happen in order.”

“That makes no fuckin’ sense,” she complained. “But sure. Fine. What’s next?”

“Next? Well, I suppose we can teach you the rest on the job,” he said. “Would you like to harvest your first soul?”

“Can you make it sound a little less creepy?”

“Nope,” he said, grinning.

 

Next Week: Bring Out Your Dead

Step 1 – All You Have To Do Is Die

London, 2209 – 276 Years Before Impact Day

It started the same as any typical day. She slept in, ate an unhealthy breakfast in the early afternoon, dragged her guitar into the city centre and busked. When her throat was sore and her fingers were throbbing, she ate another greasy meal, and went to work.

Work consisted of sitting behind a counter in a cheap hotel, maintaining a presence, answering emails and calls that came once every few hours, and helping the people that came in looking for a room. She was lucky to see more than one of them a night.

She liked the quiet, though. The city was bright and noisy, full of people and advertisements. Are you happy with the way you look? Our new gene therapy works 50% faster, giving you the body you always dreamed of.

Gene mods for naturally blue hair, for silver eyes, for naturally pale skin. Was it kind of racist to want that last one? She tried not to think about it. She wanted to look like a goth pixie. It helped her earn money when busking.

She spent most of the day surrounded by all of that noise. She made some of that noise. People going by, hundreds, thousands of them. All of them different, all of them beautiful.

There was something very relaxing about boxing herself in, leaning back in a chair behind a desk, munching on a steady supply of chips. There was always music playing, though it was set so nobody else could hear it. The music was hers, she controlled it, it helped her feel quiet.

Work was good. The pay was poor, the hours sucked, but it suited her. It was perfect for her.

There was a man, sitting in the lobby, not paying attention to her. She hadn’t noticed him come in. He hadn’t spoken to her. He didn’t make a sound at all. Far too well dressed for the kind of establishment he’d wandered into. He seemed occupied reading something. She was content to let him be.

A lot of nothing. Peace, quiet, respite from the world outside.

Then they entered.

Three of them, two adults and one child. Not so well dressed. Looked kind of desperate. Much more appropriate.

She gave them her warmest smile, keeping her curiosity to herself. Despite their clothing, all three of them were staggeringly beautiful. They could easily have been supermodels. There was something about them, the way they moved, that wasn’t quite human. Perhaps they were angels, she joked to herself.

Was it a family? A couple and their child? There wasn’t a strong familial resemblance, but that didn’t mean much. The dynamic seemed off, though.

He approached first. Fair skin, dark hair, deep amber eyes. He smiled awkwardly, a look of pain and regret. Was she reading too much into it? Probably.

“Welcome,” she said, taking her feet off the counter. “Need a room?”

“Please,” he replied.

“How many nights?” she asked, running through the availability. There were a lot of free rooms.

“Just one.”

“How many beds?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. The woman shrugged. Same fair skin, short blonde hair, eyes that couldn’t decide if they were ice-blue or a fierce red. That was a neat trick.

“Just the one,” he said. “We can rotate.”

“You got it,” she said, shrugging. It didn’t particularly matter to her. “Need a name to put the room under. Names for all three of you, actually. And ID.”

The two adults exchanged a glance. Discomfort? Irritation? Fear? It was difficult to tell. She didn’t really mind. She’d expected that to be an issue. It frequently was. It was just that kind of establishment.

“That could be difficult,” he said.

“Let’s start with names,” she said, smiling. She had no intention of denying them a place to stay. They looked like they needed it.

“John,” he said. “John Smith.”

She nodded, hiding her smirk, and typed it in.

“Jane Smith,” the woman said.

She looked down at the child, a slender girl with porcelain skin, lilac hair and kind lavender eyes.

“Alice,” the girl said.  “Ma-”

“Smith,” the man said. “Her name is Alice Smith.” He and the woman both stared, but she didn’t challenge them. Their situation was none of her business.

“Three Smiths. Makes it easy. In fact, it looks like you’ve stayed here before. I can just use the information we have on file. And… you’re good to go. Room twelve, first floor. Here’s your key.”

The three of them smiled, and John collected the key. Roxie smiled as she watched them disappear into the stairwell. The way they moved was odd, even the girl. There was a sort of fluid grace to it, like an animation that was just a little too smooth. The adults were almost predatory in their movements, whilst the girl just seemed… unsettlingly solid, Roxie decided. Like nothing could move her if she didn’t want to be moved.

She didn’t give them a lot of thought once they were out of her sight. Their business was their own, and she’d certainly encountered weirder customers. They were polite, and that was all she really cared about.

The man in the lobby continued to read, ignoring her. Something about him made her feel uncomfortable, like something bad was going to happen. Even still, she didn’t want to say anything. He had an aura of unapproachability that seemed unassailable.

Well, he wasn’t hurting anyone. She decided to leave him be. That worked out better for the both of them.

She looked up as the door chimed, and another person entered. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and moderately attractive at best. His face was set in a determined expression, like a poor attempt at disguising anger, frustration, or both.

He was well dressed, in what appeared to be a reasonably-priced suit, though it was also obvious he was carrying a weapon. He didn’t seem to be trying to hide it at all. It made her feel intensely uncomfortable, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

“Good evening,” he said, with forced courtesy that felt entirely unnatural.

“Uh, hey,” she said, then remembered she was supposed to be professional. “Lookin’ for a room?”

“No.”

She frowned. He wasn’t exactly making a good first impression. Something about him felt off, like he was broken somehow.

“O…kay? What can I do for you, then?”

“I’m looking for some friends of mine,” he said, his eyes scanning the lobby. He didn’t seem to notice the reading man at all.

“A’ight…”

Just tell me what you want so I can stop talking to you, she thought.

“They said they checked in here, but I don’t know their room number,” the man said. She’d never heard a more obvious lie in her life, but she knew better than to outright call him out on it.

“So message ‘em,” she said. “Call ‘em.”

“They’re currently offline.”

Lucky them.

“Then I can’t help ya,” she replied, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“It’s very important,” he insisted, leaning on the counter. His blue eyes were staring intensely at her, and she really, really wanted him to go away.

“So are the rules.”

He sighed, clearly annoyed. She felt a certain sense of pride in that.

“Can you at least tell me if you’ve seen them?” he asked.

“Yeah… No.”

He stared at her, his face twitching in an effort to hide a scowl. After a few seconds, he reached into his coat. She flinched, but he only pulled out a tablet. He pulled up a picture, and turned it around to show her.

It didn’t surprise her at all to see the three people from earlier. It did surprise her to find she felt instinctively protective of them.

“Those sure are some people.”

“Gabriel, Zoe and Alice,” he said, not breaking eye contact. It was very disconcerting.

“Nope.”

“You’re lying,” he accused her, tucking the tablet back into a pocket.

She felt frightened, cringing at the unspoken threat under his words. Even still, her dislike of him was strong enough that she felt like she wanted to get in his way as much as possible.

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” he said.

“Well, you just told me you were only looking for some friends, so…”

“They’re very dangerous.”

“I try not to judge,” she said, with a lot more levity than she felt. The sense of danger was intensifying, and there was nowhere she could go.

“If you don’t start taking this seriously…”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Yes?”

“Those three people, they’re fugitives,” he said. “I’m trying to bring them in, but I need your help.”

“One of them is a kid,” she pointed out. “What’d she do, push someone in a playground?”

“She’s their captive,” he said, but the lie was still obvious. Even if she hadn’t seen them all together, he was just a bad liar.

“She seemed pretty happy to me.”

“So you did see them.”

Shit.

“Still doesn’t matter,” she said. “I can’t tell you anything.”

His face contorted into a snarl. She instinctively backed away.

“You’re endangering countless lives,” he told her. “Is your petty service job really worth that?”

“Yep.”

“Idiot,” he growled.

“Well now I really want to help you,” she said dryly. “What were those names again?”

“Get out of my way. I’ll check myself.”

“Yeah, or not,” she retorted.

Without warning, he vaulted over the counter, shoving her backwards. Her back hit the wall, and the force of it winded her. There wasn’t anything she could do as he took over her computer, checking through the recent bookings.

“Room 12. Thank you,” he said, without a trace of irony.

“You’re breaking the law, you know,” she threatened him.

“I’m saving the world.”

He started to leave, walking towards the stairwell. She found herself overcome with the urge to do something, anything to stop him.

Inspiration struck, and she tapped a button on the screen, opening a communication line with room 12.

“Guys, this is Roxie. You’re about to have company.”

The man’s fist slammed into the screen, shattering it. His expression was pure fury.

“Oh, you stupid kid.”

“Feel free to report me,” she said, with a lot more bravado than she was feeling.

“You spoke to them,” he said, pulling out his pistol. “You’re infected.”

“Say what now?”

“It’s too late for you.”

He’s really going to shoot me…

“Uh…”

He pulled the trigger, and her world went dark.

* * *

The world didn’t stay dark. Rather, her vision returned almost immediately, and everything was exactly the way it was before the gunshot. Nothing had changed.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. There was one new addition: her body, lying on the ground beneath her. The man who’d shot her looked right through her, completely expressionless, completely oblivious to her presence. He holstered the gun, then took off towards the stairwell.

“Uh, what?” she said, to anyone who might have been listening.

“You’re dead,” the reading man said, catching her entirely off-guard. She whirled around to face him. He’d stood up, and was slowly walking towards her.

“Who the Hell are you?” she demanded.

“Felix,” he said. “I’m a Reaper.”

“A what?”

“We collect the souls of the dead,” he explained.

“Which is me.”

Saying it aloud, she felt disturbingly calm. The realisation wasn’t lost on her. She somehow knew, unequivocally, that she was dead. Why didn’t that bother her?

“You catch on fast.”

He smiled gently. It meant nothing to her.

“I just got shot, it’s not that hard to wrap my head around.”

His smile broadened.

“I wish all my collections were like you.”

She looked around, wondering why everything looked the same. Even raising her hands in front of her face, they looked the same as they always did. They felt the same as they always did. If not for the body lying on the floor, she might have found it harder to accept.

She didn’t feel dead at all.

If anything, she felt hungry.

“Doesn’t feel like I expected,” she said.

“It never does.”

“So, what happens now?”

“Now, you come with me,” he said, the smile finally faltering.

Roxie frowned, then took a step away from him.

“To…?”

“Hell.”

“Is there an option B?” she asked, without hope.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Well that sucks.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” he said, in what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring tone, but wasn’t.

“No eternal punishment and damnation?”

He laughed.

“Not unless that’s what you want.”

“So what am I in for?” she asked, still eying him warily.

“Depends on what you’re expecting,” he said.

She tried not to let his vagueness irritate her. It wasn’t successful.

“Not really expecting much of anything, to be honest.”

“It’s going to be rather dull, then,” he said, with a bemused smile. She prayed he was joking.

“Two decades of life and all I get is a bland nothing of an afterlife?” She shook her head. “Nah. No thanks.”

He put his hand against his hip, the sort of motion that would suggest he was about to draw a sword, except there was nothing hanging at his waist. Even still, he continued the drawing motion, and by the time his hand was in front of his body, there was a sword in his hand.

Roxie stared at it, her eyes wide. It was a thin, elegant weapon, with a simple hilt and a crystal vein running down the blade. And he’d pulled it out of nowhere.

“You don’t have a lot of say in the matter,” he said.

Her eyes darted to the door, and she grinned.

“Well, there is one thing I can say,” she said.

“Please don’t.”

Her grin widened.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

She vaulted over the counter, narrowly avoiding his blade. He followed, but she was already moving, racing towards the front door. It occurred to her only as she reached the door that a ghost might not be able to open a door, but then again, in that situation she imagined she could probably just pass through it.

The sensors didn’t detect her, and the door stayed close. She slammed into it, rebounding in a surreal, painless way, whirling just in time to avoid another attack from Felix and his sword. He looked moderately distressed.

“Roxie, please…”

She took a step back, and somehow managed to pass through the door. Nothing seemed different, except that she wasn’t actively thinking about the door.

Either way, it got her outside. She turned, and ran.

The streets were mostly empty, though that probably didn’t matter. It was obvious nobody could see her, or the well-dressed man chasing her whilst holding a sword. It would have been a rather ridiculous scene, had anyone actually witnessed it.

She wrapped a hand around a lamppost and used it to quickly change direction, hurtling down a side street. Glancing back over her shoulder to see if Felix had followed, she discovered he no longer seemed to be following her.

No, it’s too easy-

He was standing ahead of her, poised to strike. She pulled herself to a stop right before she entered his range. He lowered the sword, and sighed.

“Please, don’t make this worse on yourself.”

“How is this worse?” she asked, glancing around. She wasn’t even a little out of breath, her and though she couldn’t feel a heartbeat, somehow she still felt full of adrenaline. It was fantastic, and she had an entire world to explore.

“Let me take you to Hell,” he said, avoiding the question. “You’ll be processed, it’ll be peaceful, you’ll get to move on.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d rather stay here.”

How long would he keep chasing her? Did he have other souls to collect? Would he call in reinforcements? Were there others like him?

“You’ll decay,” he said, which gave her pause.

“I’m dead.”

“Surely you have ghost stories here.”

She glanced around the side street again. If she doubled back, she could probably stay ahead of him for another few streets.

“Ooh, do I get to be a vengeful spirit? That sounds way better.”

“Roxie…”

She shifted her weight, ready to run. Not yet, though.

“Y’know, I never actually told you my name,” she said.

“I already knew it,” he replied, sounding tired. “Part of the job.”

“And who put you in charge, anyway?”

She was almost far enough away to safely make a break for it. Just a little further…

“Lucifer.”

The name sent an involuntary chill down her spine.

“Okay, now I’m really not coming with you,” she said.

“You really don’t have a choice.”

She started to run, but he was already in front of her. Too late to stop, she all but ran into the tip of his blade.

To her surprise, there was no pain as he thrust forwards, driving the sword through her heart. It didn’t feel like nothing, but it certainly didn’t hurt. If anything, it was like a physical sensation of intense nostalgia, mixed with the feeling of falling a great distance, and longing for something far away.

There was no sense of the world fading out around her. Everything just ended abruptly, gone in an instant. She never even noticed. The moment the sword touched her, her existence ended.

 

Next Week: Dying Was The Easy Part