Death & Co

DEATH & CO

Angie sits at the end of the bar and listens to the noise around her.  She hasn’t ordered anything to drink in the time she’s been there.  She isn’t here for alcohol.  She wants somewhere she can sit alone and listen to people talk.  There’s a glass of iced water sitting on the bar in front of her but she hasn’t touched it.  The water is cloudy and there’s a rim of scum around the lip of the glass.  She had a lot to drink before she came here and her head is still foggy.  One more drink will push her over the edge and she’ll never be able to get herself home. 
The noises in the bar seem very loud.  Glasses clatter loud enough to make her head vibrate, voices scream in her ear and make her eardrums ache, she jumps out of her skin every time the door opens and the light coming through the window at the side of the bar makes her eyes ache.  When she can’t take the throbbing in her head any longer she decides it’s time to go home.  She rises unsteadily to her feet and makes her way through the crowds of people to the front door.   
         
She’s pulling open the heavy wooden door when Jake, the barman shouts after her.  'Watch yourself out there.  Its freezing'
         
Angie turns towards him but he’s gone.  She spins around and almost collides with a blonde woman who’s pushing the door open.
         
'Sorry' Angie mumbles
         
The woman doesn’t even look in her direction.  She throws the door open and stalks into the night and her high heels click against the pavement.  She’s disappeared around the corner by the time Angie follows her out.
         
'Ignorant bitch' Angie mutters
         
It’s a cold night.  Dense, chilly fog hangs in the air.  Frost covers the streets and cars parked outside the pub.  Angie shivers and wishes she'd worn something heavier before coming out.  The thin jacket she has on does nothing to increase her body temperature.  She blows on her hands and rubs them together as she walks along the street.  It gets darker the further away from the city centre she goes.  People hurry past.  A light powdery snow falls.  She doesn’t feel cold when some flakes land on her face.  The amount of alcohol in her body is keeping her skin flushed and hot.  Her throat is sore and parched and she’d have given anything for a drink to soothe it.
         
She reaches the bridge that crosses the lake and stands peering over the railings.  The lake’s frozen over.  She wonders where the ducks and fish have gone for the winter.  Are they dead under the ice or just hibernating?  Have they flown somewhere warmer until spring came? 

She notices dozens of bouquets and wreaths of flowers sitting on the ground and leaning against the railings.  Something feels familiar about them.  She kneels down for a closer look.  She can’t make out what the cards attached say because the writing is blurry.  A child’s placed a small teddy bear in the middle of it all.  Shuddering, she stands up and continues walking down the street.
         
When she reaches the street where her house is she knows something’s very wrong.  She can see her house clearly at the end of the road.  Its bright pink front door is unmissable.  The street’s the problem.  She doesn’t live here.  This is a different place.  Her street is wider and brighter than this gloomy place.  There’s a park over the street from her house that appears to have been turned into an empty waste ground.  She doesn’t recognize the houses.  Nothing is familiar. 

The pavement seems to he shimmering beneath her and the streetlights fade as she gets closer to her house.  She hurries the last few steps to her front door and he heart thuds in her chest.  She reaches the step outside her door out of breath.  She stands for a few minutes until her heart stops racing.  She has the strangest sensation that something’s watching her and keeps turning around to look back down the road she’s come.  She can only see darkness. 

When she turns back to the door it’s changed.  It’s no longer the familiar bright pink she picked out and painted it but a blood red colour.  She stares at the door then shakes her head like someone trying to wake from a dream.  She hears a slithering noise behind her and turns quickly.  Something dark shifts in the corner of her vision and is lost in the darkness.  When she looks at the door again it’s still pink.  She laughs uneasily.
         
'I'm seeing things.  I must have had more to drink than I thought' 
         
She reaches into the left pocket of her skirt for her keys but they aren’t there.  She digs her fingers deep and prods the lining but the pocket is empty.  She checks her right pocket but it only contains some loose change.  She spends a panicky few minutes raking through the pockets of her skirt and jacket looking for her keys.  She finds them in the first pocket she checked, takes them out, slides the key inside the lock, turns it and steps inside her house. 
         
The house is in darkness.  It’s eerily silent.  Her lover, Debbie should be home by now with the kids.  The house should be alive with noise.  The TV should be blaring, the telephone ringing and the kids should be running up and down the hall talking and laughing.  The house is so quiet it’s as if no one’s lived there for a long time.  Angie can’t see anything and walks slowly along the hall feeling her way carefully by pressing the wall. 
         
'Debbie... where are you? It's Angie.... I didn't mean to be late... I went to the pub and had a few... I'm sorry....' Angie says
         
Only the oppressing silence answers her back.  She hears a noise a few feet away.  A wet, slithering sound.  Panic grabs her heart. 
         
A man's voice shouts.  'Is that you Angie? Are you okay?'

She stumbles along the hall and trips over something solid.  She screams and stumbles along the hallway and falls after bumping her head on the wall.  She lies in a heap and nurses her aching head.  She hears running footsteps coming towards her and light floods the hallway. 

'Angie. Are you okay?  You gave us quite a shock'

Two men lift her by the arms and half carry, half march her into the living room.  Her vision is blurry.  There’s a searing pain in her head.  Her legs feel like useless immovable lumps of jelly.  Her heart is racing and she fights the urge to roll into a protective ball and start screaming.  She feels bright light on her face, the couch beneath her body and a pillow under her head.  One of the men opens her mouth and pours a few drops of whiskey down her throat.  It rolls into her stomach and burns her throat on the way down.  She starts coughing.  The other man slams her back.
         
'I bet you feel better already'
         
Angie weakly nods and rubs her eyes.  Her vision is returning and the pain in her head’s receding.  This isn’t her flat.  The decoration and colours are all wrong.  The furniture isn’t hers.  The wallpaper isn’t the stuff she picked out.  The TV’s the wrong colour and size.  She looks up at the two men.  They’re tall and muscular and dressed entirely in black.  They smile patiently down at her waiting for her mind to catch up.
         
'Who are you?  What are you doing here?' Angie says

'I'm Mr D and this is my associate Mr R'
         
'What are you doing here?'          
         
'We've come to help you move Angie'
         
Angie sits up so quickly a bolt of pain goes through her head and she sees stars.  She touches the gash with her fingers and winces.  'I'm not moving anywhere.  You've mistaken me for someone else'
         
Mr D takes a thin black book out of his jacket pocked and flicks through it.  He finds the page he’s looking for, scans it with his finger, nods and looks up at her.  'There's been no mistake Angie.  This isn't your house anymore.  You have to leave I'm afraid'
         
'But I've nowhere to go...'
         
‘Debbie wants you to leave her alone’ Mr R says.  ‘You need to move on’
         
‘What are you talking about?’
         
Mr R places a gentle hand on her shoulder.  'I'm afraid that isn't our problem Angie.  We're just here to help you find your way’
         
'Why are you doing this?  I paid my mortgage last month.  I've done nothing wrong'
         
The door opens and Debbie walks into the room.  She doesn’t acknowledge Angie or the men.  She looks upset.  She takes a large photo album out of the cupboard, its on the couch, balances the album on her knees and starts looking through it.
         
'Debbie.... they're trying to make me leave the house... don't let them.... help me... call the police.... I've done nothing wrong...' Angie says
         
Debbie doesn’t look at her.  She keeps flicking through the album.  She stops at random pages, covers her mouth and runs her fingers over the images.
         
'You really need to leave now' Mr D says
         
'I don't understand... I've done nothing wrong... this is my house... I have a right to be here'
         
'Not anymore' Mr R says
         
'What do you mean?'
         
'You don't belong here.  This isn't your life any longer.  Surely you noticed the change?'
         
Debbie covers her face with her hands and weeps. 
         
Angie shakes her head.  'I don't know what you're talking about'
         
Mr R grips her shoulder.  'Come now Angie.  You must have felt it'
         
'Felt what?'
         
'You don't belong anymore.  Things are slipping away from you...'
         
Angie shakes her head.  Even as she does this she’s starting to remember things.  Sitting in the pub for hours at a time and not ordering anything or speaking to anyone, walking about the streets for hours unsure of where she is, seeing houses she doesn’t recognise in the street where she lives and not feeling the snow on her face.  The lake.  Something about the lake.  There was water in her mouth and eyes.  A great weight tugged her down.  She pushes the memories from her mind. 

'I don't know what you mean' Angie says
         
'You must leave tonight' Mr D says
         
'I don't understand'
         
'You have outstayed your welcome and it's time to leave' Mr R says
         
'Please... you're not making any sense'
         
'You have been here too long' Mr D says.  'The others desire you'
         
'The others?'
         
'They think they have a right to you.  You’ve stayed beyond your time and they’re hungry for you.  We won’t be able to stop them taking you'
         
Mr D holds a pen and a sheet of parchment paper out to her.  'You must sign this now.  If they come here and you haven't got it it'll be bad for you'
         
'Who's coming to get me?'
         
'The others.  They know' Mr R says
         
'Know what?'
         
'You don't belong here.  You belong on their side.  They aren't' going to wait any longer' Mr R says
         
Angie turns a pleading face towards Debbie.  'Please help me.... make them stop... send them away... don't let them take me... Debbie... I'm begging you...'
         
Debbie stares down at the photograph album.  Tears are running down her cheeks and she brushes them away.  She pours herself vodka and takes a few small sips. 

‘She can't hear you' Mr D says.  'You've passed out of her range'

The front door blows open and Angie hears an unmistakable slithery sound.  The same sound she heard in the darkness as she walked home from the pub.  The sound grows closer and closer.  Angie presses her back against the wall.  The slithering gets louder and louder.  She feels hands reach for her in the darkness. 

‘Don’t let them take me… Please…’

Mr D thrusts the paper and pen at her.  'You must sign now or all will be lost'

Angie takes the sheet of parchment paper and the quill.  There’s no ink in it.  'What do I sign it with?'

'It's a blood oath' Mr R says

'A blood oath?'

Mr D removes a knife from his jacket and cuts a vein in her arm.  He takes the quill out of her hand and dips it in the blood running down her arm.  He hands the quill back to her.  The wet, slippery sound is so close it’s deafening. Angie signs the piece of parchment and hands it back to Mr D.  The room grows darker and the slippery sound starts to fade until it’s almost gone.

'Thank you Angie' Mr D says

'Who are you really?'

'We just show people the right way'

Death takes Reaper’s arm and starts to lead him away.  Darkness surrounds Angie.  She spins around but everything is gone.  She holds her palms up in front of her and gingerly walks forward.  She feels nothing.  She starts to run.  She hears something creak open and turns her head towards the sound.  A doorway-shaped beam of silver light spills into the darkness.  Angie runs for it.