Grave Intentions (4 page)
Authors: Lori Sjoberg
“You got it. Along with battery acid, dryer sheets, and damn near every type of cleaning product known to man. Oh, and cold medicines. We usually found the labs when one of the neighbors started bitching about the smell.”
David watched while the short and stubby one began mixing a concoction of ingredients in one of the five-gallon buckets. The taller guy leaned back against the counter and drank his beer. When he finished, he tossed the empty beer can into a nearby cardboard box and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Can you sense it yet?” David asked, trying to gauge Adam’s capacity to detect a pending death. The talent developed at a different pace for each reaper. Some took to it like a duck to water, while others required months to hone the ability.
As a seasoned reaper, David could feel death fast approaching; sharp and strong as it pulsed through his system like it was a part of him. Not much longer, he decided, his body nearly vibrating in anticipation. Probably within the next minute or so.
“Yeah, I can feel it,” Adam replied with a nod, his narrowed eyes fixated on the pair in the shed. “But it’s kind of weak, like it’s way off in the distance.”
“Not good, but it’s a start. Keep focusing on it.”
Adam motioned toward one of the other rusted-out vehicles. “Maybe it would help if I got a little bit closer.”
“No, wait—”
Too late. The kid took off toward a two-toned Chevy pickup, crouched down like he was avoiding sniper fire. He was halfway there when the tall guy with the mullet pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Obviously not thinking about the volatile chemicals surrounding him, he stuck the cigarette between his lips and flicked a lighter.
“Son of a bitch,” David said, just as the flame ignited the chemicals, creating a massive fireball that blew Adam back against a pea green Dodge Dart on blocks. He hit with a heavy thud, his face reddened and his clothes singed by the raw heat of the blast.
Meanwhile, the explosion had reduced the shed to a mass of broken glass, splintered wood, and smoldering chemicals. One of the nearby cars had caught fire, sending a caustic cloud of thick black smoke into the air. The dog was awake and barking its head off, unhurt but panicked, yanking hard on its chain but unable to break free.
David knelt down beside Adam, who was lying flat on his back. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just fucking peachy.” With a grunt, Adam pushed up to a seated position and let out a long, hacking cough. Aside from some scrapes, bruises, and the complete and total lack of eyebrows, the kid looked relatively unharmed. “Good thing I didn’t put money on gunshot wounds.”
“Stay here,” David said, brushing the dirt from his jeans as he stood. “I’ll take care of this one.” He slid on his sunglasses and walked toward the remains of the shed.
The souls were already rising from the shells of their former selves, not yet fully understanding what just transpired. David moved in quickly, harvesting the first before it acclimated to its new condition.
The second soul seemed more reluctant, moving pensively in David’s direction like a skittish animal. Darkness tainted this one; no wonder it wasn’t in any hurry to venture into the great beyond. Impatient, David stepped closer, inexorably drawing the soul to him like a magnet to true north.
Yep, this one was definitely going to hell, David thought as the soul merged with his body. If he had to do this godforsaken job for a hundred years, he’d never grow accustomed to the unsettling sensation of cold, black evil surging through his system. Malevolence ran thick and strong, leaving wicked trails of hatred and depravity in its wake. When the soul realized it held no anchor to the living, when it realized its next destination was an eternity of damnation, it let out a shriek of despair that echoed through David’s body like nails on a chalkboard. God, it never failed to make his flesh crawl.
So preoccupied with wrangling the souls, David failed to notice the flames spreading toward the far end of the trailer, to a tank of natural gas bolted against the side.
The resulting blast was deafening. Common household objects shot through the air like missiles, embedding into trees and cars. And David.
“Dude, you okay?” he heard Adam’s muffled voice say when he regained consciousness. A hand gripped his shoulder and shook him lightly, sending ripples of pain through his chest. “Come on, man, don’t die on me.”
David cracked his eyes open and found Adam staring down at him, his face tight with concern. For a moment, he wondered why everything looked so weird but then he noticed one of the lenses from his sunglasses was missing.
“I’m fine,” he said on the heels of a groan. Which was a lie. He actually felt like he’d been run over by a truck and then set on fire. Not like that happened. Much.
“Oh thank God.” Adam blew out a heavy breath and scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I thought I was going to have to learn the rest of this shit on my own.”
“We’re reapers,” David said with a huff of annoyance. “We can’t die, you idiot, we’re already dead.” Sometimes that was a major downer. He’d been dead for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to be truly alive.
Remembering the souls he’d just collected, David did a quick inventory to make sure he hadn’t inadvertently lost anyone in the blast. Yep, all present, pissed off, and accounted for. The first soul continued to wail over the loss of its corporeal form, a cold swirling mass of misery and confusion, while the other raged against its newfound prison, desperate to escape before being sent to its final destination.
“Could have fooled me,” Adam said, not sounding the least bit convinced. “You took a pretty heavy hit.”
David tried to push himself up but was met with a sharp wave of pain and nausea. Looking down, he saw what Adam was talking about. In addition to the shards of glass and metal that pierced his clothes and stuck in his skin, a steel rod was imbedded deep in his chest, the only visible evidence a two-inch stub sticking out from between his ribs. No wonder he felt so damn lightheaded. “Aw, shit. This was my favorite shirt.”
“Want me to pull it out?” Adam offered, his fingers gripping the slender shaft of metal.
David took a moment to weigh his options. The rod hurt like a son of a bitch, but it was probably the only thing keeping him from bleeding out. They needed to get away from the scene and back to the car before police or fire arrived, and that wasn’t going to happen if he ran down a couple quarts.
“We’ll pull it out later,” he finally said, his breathing strained. He held a hand out to Adam. “Help me up. We need to get out of here before anyone shows up.”
“But you’re bleeding—”
“No shit,” David hissed through clenched teeth. The metallic tang ran thick in his throat so he swallowed hard, forcing the taste back down. “I’ll bleed a hell of a lot more when you pull that stick out of my chest. If I pass out from blood loss, you’ll have to carry me back to the car.”
Adam looked David over, sizing him up. “You’d be a bitch to carry. Dead weight and all.”
“Exactly. We’ve got to get moving before I lose too much blood.” He tossed the keys to Adam. “You’re driving. Now let’s go.”
As if sensing their pending departure, the dog let out a deep howl of protest.
“What about the dog?” Adam asked.
“What about it?”
“We can’t just leave him out here.”
David gave his trainee an “are you kidding me?” look. “Why not?”
“Because.” Adam glanced back at the dog, still barking its head off. The massive pit bull lunged, only to be jerked back when it ran out of chain. “He’s tied up. What if there’s no one left to feed him? He might starve out here, all by himself.”
“He’s not going to starve.” Feeling dizzy, David leaned against the hood of one of the junk cars. If he didn’t get out of there soon, he was going to lose consciousness. “The police will take care of him.”
“The police will just call animal control, and animal control will take him to the pound,” Adam said, a hint of distress in his voice. “They’ll probably put him to sleep.”
“Jesus, didn’t your parents ever get you a puppy when you were a kid?” David’s unsteady gaze traveled from Adam to the dog. The big lug stared back at him with those huge, black eyes, its nub of a tail wagging a mile a minute. Hopeful. Excited.
Goddamn it.
“Fine,” he bit out, cursing himself for being such a softy. “Let the damn dog loose. But be quick about it. And if he turns around and chews your head off, don’t come crying to me.”
By the time they made it back to the car, darkness had fallen and David was so low on blood he could barely stand on his own. Still, he pushed forward, determined to pass out in the comfort of his own vehicle.
Adam walked a few yards ahead, the dog close at his heels. The dumb mutt hadn’t left his side ever since he unchained it. It bounded around the kid like a puppy, nudging him with its massive head until Adam gave him an affectionate pat.
“Whoa,” David said when Adam started to unlock the back door on the driver’s side. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I figured the dog could sit in the back,” Adam replied, his voice nonchalant but his eyes averted.
“Oh, no you don’t.” David braced a hand against the doorframe, wishing the kid would hurry up and unlock the passenger door so he could collapse with some semblance of dignity. “I said you could let the dog go. I didn’t say anything about taking it with us.”
“Oh, come on,” Adam said, placing a protective hand on the dog’s head. “Just until I find a home for him.”
“No.”
“It’s just as cruel, leaving him out here with no way to fend for himself. He’s not a wild animal. He needs a home.”
With an audible groan, David thumped his forehead against the roof of the car. “I don’t need this shit.” He looked back up and saw two Adams floating in front of him. Any other time, he’d crack the whip and tell the kid to get rid of the damn dog, but right now he was too tired and too light-headed to argue. “As soon as we get back, you’re taking it to a shelter.”
After a grueling day at work, Sarah trudged up the stairwell leading to her apartment. Contaminants in the lab had ruined a week’s worth of preparations, forcing her to start the tests over from scratch. Then Angelo had caught wind of the contamination problems and things went right down the dumper. Add in the fun of driving past the horde of protesters on her way out, and you had all the ingredients for a two-drink-minimum evening.
The handles of the plastic grocery bags dug into her hands as she struggled to fit the key into the lock and push the door open. She nudged the door shut with her hip and rushed to the kitchen, letting out a sigh of relief when she dumped her purse and the bags onto the counter.
Once everything was stored away, she went to the bedroom to change out of her work clothes and into something more casual. She settled on her favorite pair of blue cotton pajama bottoms and a gauzy pink tank top. Feeling relaxed and much more comfortable, she went back to the kitchen, slapped a frozen dinner in the microwave, and poured a glass of wine.
What a day, she thought as she took a long sip and moved out to the balcony. Angelo had been in fine form after hearing about the contamination, nit-picking about everything from her choice of dye for the cell cultures to the way she logged results into the database. Another day like today and she might snap like a stressed-out postal worker.
She closed the sliding glass door behind her and stretched out on the plastic Adirondack chair. After being stuck indoors for ten hours, she found the heat and humidity to be a welcome change of pace. She took another sip and closed her tired eyes, relishing the relative calm of early evening.
Inside, the phone rang. Not feeling particularly social, she chose to let the answering machine do its thing. Still, she cracked the door open so she could listen.
“Sarah?” rang out the familiar voice through the answering machine speaker. “Sarah, are you there? It’s Angelo.”
Crap. How did he get this number? She’d changed it when she moved, making a point of giving the new number to only a select few she trusted not to share.
“I called to apologize for being so difficult today,” Angelo continued, sounding as smarmy as usual. Funny, at first she’d found him charismatic. Then she got to know him and her assessment changed dramatically. Now she looked past the charm and saw the true man that lay beneath, a brilliant mind with the morals of an alley cat. “You know how I get when I’m under stress.” He chuckled, and Sarah wanted to reach through the receiver and choke him. “Anyway, I want to make it up to you. How about dinner and drinks tonight? My treat. Give me a call when you get in, okay?”
“Like hell,” she said under her breath. Not even if it meant losing her job and working the graveyard shift at the Gas ’N Grub.
After mentally running through the short list of people with her new number, she picked up the phone and began dialing.
“Did you give Angelo my new number?” she asked as soon as Jackie picked up.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Jackie said, her voice tinged with sympathy. “But you know how he is. Once he realized you changed your number, he was like a dog with a bone trying to get the new one. And when he found out I had it, he started up about how he needed it in case of an emergency, and when that didn’t work, he made it real clear he’d have my job if I didn’t cough it up.”
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