Reaper

By Shane Bowen

Reapers work to make the transition from life to death as painless as possible. Tormenters do their best to inflict punishment on those they think deserve it. This is the adventure of one reaper who fights for those making the journey to the afterlife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365435669

Book preview

Reaper

REAPER

Shane Bowen

Jerry

You are all right, said a man’s calm voice, as I struggled to open my eyes. I was confused and tried to figure out what was happening. I thought back to the previous few minutes.

After lunch at my grandma’s house, I had decided to take a nice relaxing walk. I had gone around her pond and along the edge of a field before stepping back onto the side of the oil and chip road known simply as 75E. The gravel along the right shoulder had crunched under my feet and it reminded me of taking that same walk with my grandpa and cousins years before.

My mind drifted for a moment, thinking about the time we had built a dam in the creek branch at the bottom of the hill. My cousin, Tom, and I had worked on the dam, building it from sticks, mud, and rocks. Our crowning glory had been a rusty, old, red license plate that served as the spillway. We had somehow figured out that the water could flow over that metal and not erode the dam, pretty clever for a couple of boys under ten. My sister, Cheri, and other cousin, Melissa, had built a small village consisting of two dozen mud huts a few yards below the dam after the bed had mostly drained. They had dug a small trench in the mud to carry the water that was coming over the spillway around their houses. My grandpa had watched us, probably enjoying the excitement of his young grandchildren, from his perch on a crooked old tree up on the east bank, between the creek and the road.

The gravel crunched again, bringing me from my dream, but I knew it was not my boots causing the sound. I did not know where the crunching was coming from, but I knew I had to be close to Koonce’s corner because I had been looking at the gap in the tree line that I was going to use to continue my hike. The Koonce house had been torn down well before my time, but I had heard stories and the family name still stuck with the corner.

Finally, my eyes started to focus. I could make out two men who appeared to be in their mid-twenties. They looked troubled and were deep in discussion while I tried to sit up. Their old, blue Chevy pickup, which had a white cab and quite a bit of rust around the wheel wells, was just off the shoulder a few yards away from me.

The seconds seemed like minutes. My mind flashed back to a few moments earlier, just as the truck reached me. I saw the wide eyes of the driver and his frantic steering. Then, I remembered being knocked into the ditch. Things had gone black and I was trying to figure out what had just happened. There was a ringing in my ears and I felt as though I had hit my head on a stump or a fencepost or something.

You are all right, said the man’s calm voice again. I could tell he was too my right and thought he must be kneeling because his voice was close.

I looked up at him through the confusion filling my mind. His face did not look familiar and I failed to recognize the voice. I thought that he might have been one of the men from the truck, so I studied his face some more.

Just relax, said the man, still in a calm tone. Everything is going to be fine.

As I continued to study his face, I realized something quite odd. His voice was perfectly clear and seemed to cut through the ringing. This confused me even more as I tried to process the situation. For some reason, I decided to try sitting up again. It seemed like I should have been in great pain, but I was surprised to find that I had no pain as I sat up and looked around. Things were coming into focus a little better, but it still was not making sense.

I could see that both doors on the truck, which was blocking the road, were open. The driver and the passenger were standing in the ditch next to the truck staring down. They were both wearing blue coveralls, muddy work boots, and a red cap. The man on the left was clean-shaven with short blonde hair, while the other had shaggy brown hair and a full beard. I had to assume they were traveling between jobs or had worked a terribly early shift. The bearded man was on a cell phone, while the other was cursing himself.

What are they looking at? I asked, in a rhetorical tone. I did not know whether to expect an answer anyway.

The man kneeling next to me was silent and I looked to see if he was still there. He was, but now his face was perfectly clear. The man’s dark brown eyes and skin, grayed whiskers, and tightly curled hair, gave him a gentle look. I guessed he was in his sixties. The scene behind me seemed to fade away as I studied him, sitting quietly, watching me. Then, he smiled.

They are looking at you, he offered, in a matter of fact way.

Wait, what? I said. The confusion flooded back, although the ringing and blurriness had completely faded away.

Well, simply put, the truck hit you.

But, it didn’t. I mean, you knocked me out of the way. Right?

No, I wouldn’t exactly say that I knocked you out of the way.

So, what does that mean? Am I dead? I asked slowly, starting to feel panicked.

Relax, the man said firmly, but still offering a smile.

How did...? When…? What about my wife… my daughter… my parents… my…?

Seriously, my friend, it will all be fine. I promise you that this sort of thing has been happening for centuries. Millennia, really.

I turned to stare at the scene down the road, feeling the confusion and anxiety building. Then, the man touched me on my right shoulder and all the stress disappeared. It felt like I was in a trance, as we stood up. He led me down the road a little bit, where I saw a body in the ditch. The blue jeans with a few fresh rips, dirt covered boots, and bloody green shirt were definitely mine. I looked away, not wanting to believe what I was seeing. After a few moments, I forced myself to look again. I was hoping that maybe those clothes were only familiar and not actually what I had worn that day.

After convincing myself that the body was certainly mine, I glanced down to look at what I was wearing. I stared at my outfit, which was exactly like what I had been wearing. I had on the green shirt, blue jeans, and work boots. The difference was that this outfit was in perfect condition. I had no tears, no dirt, and, definitely, no blood stains. I worked this fact over in my head, but I found that I did not feel confused.

Next, I turned to look at the man who had been kneeling next to me and noticed that he was wearing a well-worn pair of jeans that were almost solid white along the front of his legs. His shirt was flannel, a red background with thin green and yellow lines crisscrossing it. It was similar to something my grandpa would have worn when working in the field. He was now leaning against an old wooden fencepost in a casual manner, a reassuring smile on his face. I wondered how he could be so relaxed while this scene was unfolding.

I’m sure you have a million questions, he stated, watching me carefully.

Not really, I replied. Actually, I don’t know what to think at all.

You just don’t know how many questions you have, that’s all. The truth is that you soon will, he said, straightening up and smoothing out the front of his shirt.

So, is this what it is like to be dead?

No, he said with a chuckle, this is only the first step.

Well, that’s good, I guess, I said, looking back along the road. Where did you come from?

Ah, the first question, he said with a big smile, rubbing his hands together in an excited manner. Well, I sensed that I was needed here and came right away.

But, if you knew this was going to happen, couldn’t you have saved me?

That’s not how this works, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

How what works? I asked, feeling confused again.

He stretched his arms out wide and smiled. I studied him, but still did not understand.

Who do you think I am? he asked, watching for a reaction.

No clue. Should I know you? Have we met?

Not before today, he said with a grin. Think about it.

I was silent for what seemed like hours but was more like seconds. I would soon realize that simply time did not matter anymore.

The Grim Reaper? I guessed, wanting to see if he would give me a hint.

Excellent guess! he said with a little smile, but then wrinkled up his nose. However, that is a name I don’t like to use. I suppose that it is as close as I could expect. I just do not like the word grim. Do I seem grim?

But…, I said, the questions beginning to flood my mind while I studied his eyes.

Look, he said, holding up his hands in a calming gesture, I’ll answer your questions in a bit, but you need to get your closure here.

I turned and watched as my dad’s red F-150 roared over the hill behind me and skidded to a stop along the east side of the road. Two tires were in the grass, as he and my mom jumped out of the truck. I was in the ditch on my mom’s side, so she got there first and collapsed instantly. My dad was close behind but stopped to steady himself on the front of the old truck, barely keeping his balance.

Can I talk to them? I asked, choking on the words. My feet slowly carried me toward them.

I think you know the answer to that, he said, keeping his voice even.

I stopped moving and fell completely silent. Things started moving almost in slow motion and I wish only to let them know that I was going to be fine.

What happens next? I asked, still watching my parents grieve, feeling overwhelmed.

We take a little walk, he said from behind me.

A little walk? Where are we going?

Well, he said, his voice changing tones slightly and drawing my attention, you have a task a little different than most.

Looking away from my mom, I turned to make eye