There is a business at the end of an alley that can put an extension on life. The alley is one of those forgotten alleys where the bricks in the road appear to be escaping. Moldy newspapers clump together hoping for strength in numbers. Humid air lingers between the walls of the alley creating a haze that masks how deep the alley is. A rusty lamp protrudes from the wall, the yellow light casts a cone around a door. And behind that door Jack can help you beat death.
Deals are made in Jack’s office. A client entering the office would find it sparsely furnished. In the corner is a metal filing cabinet filled with the paperwork to make the deal. A black ceiling fan moans and clicks as it labors to move around musty air. In the center of the room a large wooden desk squats. The spotless desk dominates the room and has been scrubbed to a glass like finish. In front of the desk, the client would find two leather chairs, patiently waiting for the client to sit and plead their case. And behind the desk, Jack is busy adjusting the position of the forms, ready to help a client with cheating death.
A procedure for a client can be complicated. A client will request an extension on their life. Jack will begin the paperwork, which includes a contract, a basic information form, and then hands them instructions on how to choose a trade-in. The client will then come back with an update on the trade-in: who they are, what they look like, and where they can be found. Dealing with trade-ins has become the part of the job that Jack has grown to disdain. It’s too easy for him and doesn’t challenge him anymore. His love is the paperwork portion of it. The feeling of a completed form, a binding contract, and a system to handle it all, fills Jack with satisfaction. Of course, there is money involved, but paperwork is easier to understand. Collecting a trade-in, however, can be messy business.
Today, a client has just left his office with updates on a trade-in. Before heading out to collect, he busied himself with gathering his supplies. He filed the paperwork into a drawer of the metal cabinet, then opened another drawer to get out his bag. Hanging from a hook was a coil of rope, he placed that into the bag. Inside of the top drawer of his desk was a tranquilizer gun and box of darts. The young Grim Reaper prefered the bodies alive. Jack didn’t know why, and since it was a part of the contract they had together, he didn’t ask. He placed the gun and darts into the bag. Then he threw in some leather gloves. Finally, he grabbed his black duster coat, his keys, and went out into the alley.
Hunting down a human was surprisingly easy for Jack. Maybe it had to do with his attention to detail. Or maybe it was a strange skill that he had, similar to his focus when it came to documents and tax codes. The more likely scenario, Jack thought as he walked past buildings to his van, was that his clients picked humans that all followed the same pattern.
He tried to tell his clients to pick a person that wouldn’t be missed. They usually winked or tapped their nose as if they were in on his secret, and told him they had just the right person in mind. His clients weren’t the most respectable people, therefore the person was an enemy or a deadbeat that owed them something. All of his clients gave him the same type of trade-in, and he never felt bad about the deal.
The trade-in idea was something that he fell into with Death. The title of Grim Reaper is a job. There are territories they cover, and new employees take on the robe and sickle. Some like doing their job, and others just use it as a jumping off point to a better position in the afterlife. Jack happened to catch his territory’s Grim Reaper fresh out of school. And after a lengthy discussion, some paperwork, and shaking of flesh and bone, the two had made a deal.
Jack studied the file he had on his latest client’s trade-in. A real winner. The woman had made a name for herself tricking men into falling in love with her and then somehow giving her all of their money. Apparently, Jack’s client had planned on marrying the woman, before she claimed that he beat her(which he probably did) and was sleeping with other women(which was also probably true). So, through same fancy legal work, she was able to take his client’s house. And now, Jack had to find her, drug her and take her to the graveyard.
Death had a list of soon to be deceased that he needed to collect. There was a cemetery they would be delivered to, and Death would take them to the afterlife. Jack’s deal with Death allowed him to find trade-ins that could take the client’s place. Death hated dealing with the recently deceased, he much rather be tracking live subjects. Therefore, Jack would get the list from Death and handle all of the paperwork. Just like any other business, the afterlife had paperwork.
The house was at the end of street, sitting a top of a hill. It was the biggest and oldest house of the neighborhood. The client was an older gentleman, whom through various means, both legal and illegal, acquired a lot of money. And he liked to flaunt his money, hence the huge house Jack was driving toward. The van had a security business name on the side. In neighborhoods like this, it was easier to seem like you belonged if you had a name on the vehicle. He drove up to a house next to the client’s house and parked.
This trade-in’s pattern was a lot easier than some of the others he had taken. She stayed in the house, or tanned out on the porch. Jack opened up his bag and loaded a couple of tranquilizer darts into the gun. He stuff the gun into his coat pocket and left the van. As he walked up to the front of the neighbor’s house, he looked into the client’s backyard. He smiled when he saw the woman laid out on the porch.
A quick knock on the door, a lie about checking security cameras, and he was up a telephone pole. While he was pretending to work on a camera, Jack took out his gun. The woman was in a bathing suit, laying on a beach chair. With the girl in his sights, he pulled the trigger, sending a dart whizzing through the air. He watched as it struck her in the arm, the red tuft at the end of the dart vibrating.
No one was out to watch him hop the fence to the backyard and collect his trade-in. Her bathing suit seemed to reveal more than it actually did. Jack looked away in disgust, the bare skin of any person made him ill. He found a towel, and without looking at her tan body, draped the towel around her. Then he lifted her up and put her arm around his shoulder. He walked her through the house, doing his best to not think about her skin against his coat. If anyone saw them as they left the house, they would have thought she was drunk and he was helping her. In the van, he tied her with rope; he learned the hard way that some people’s metabolism worked through the tranquilizer quicker than others. And Jack always learned from mistakes as well as always came prepared.
It was a long drive to the cemetery where he first met the Grim Reaper. The trip wasn’t long, but was enough for him to daydream. His thoughts on trips like this usually drifted back to the night he first met the Grim Reaper.
It was a friend’s passing that had him at the cemetery that night. He was sitting at his friend’s tombstone, finishing up one of his last bottles of alcohol when a gravedigger stumbled upon him. His face was flush and he was breathing heavy.
“Thank God you are here. You won’t believe what I just saw!” The old man said.
Jack tried to focus his double vision and concentrate on the man, “What’s the matter?”
“Death! I saw death walking among the tombstones. Just now, right over there.” He pointed.
“Uhm. This is a graveyard, right? Death is always here.” Jack said.
“No, I mean ‘Death’. You know, skeleton in a robe, carrying a big scythe. He was walking right over there.”
“Sure. I thought I was the drunk one.” Jack said. “Thanks for the laugh, but I’m definitely not in the mood for a crazy person right now.”
“You don’t believe me? Come on, I’ll show you.” The gravedigger said.
Before Jack knew what was happening, he was being lifted up. The gravedigger’s grip was surprisingly strong, his fingers dug into Jack’s shoulder. He followed behind the old man like a child by a parent, as they walked deeper into the cemetery. He tried to focus on the old man, but the green plaid shirt didn’t do much to help sober him up. Then the old man ducked behind a tombstone and pointed. Jack followed the direction of the dirty finger and proceeded to vomit.
In the distance, among the tombstones was the Grim Reaper. Fog rolled around the spectre of death as it stood tall. It was wrapped in robes too black to be made by a human hand. Inside of the robes, Jack could make out the shape of a skull. Its skeletal hand was stroking its bony chin. The Reaper’s sickle rested against its shoulder. Jack stared at Death and decided that he was never going to drink again..
“See. Do you believe me now?” The old man said.
“I have no idea what I’m seeing right now. Is he confused about something?” Jack asked.
“What are you talking about? It’s Death! We need to get out of here.” The gravedigger said.
“Look at him. He’s looking around like he is lost. Can Death be lost in a cemetery?”
“Who cares? Death is real, and he has come to take our souls! Oh Jesus, I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.”
“Of course Death is real. Again, you work in cemetery. If he wasn’t real, you’d be out of a job.”
“You’re crazy. I’m getting out of here.”
“Good idea. You should probably leave. I think I’m going to watch him for a minute. I want to see what he does.”
The old man shook his head and low crawled away. Jack was fascinated. He couldn’t believe that there really was a Grim Reaper and that he looked exactly like he was described. There were so many questions buzzing around in his head that he didn’t realize he had been spotted by Death.
Two white beams burst forth from Death’s gaze. The beams got brighter until Jack was blinded and had to look away. It was then that he realized he had been daydreaming and was currently behind the steering wheel of the van. The beams were the headlights of a vehicle headed towards him. He swerved out of the wrong lane to the sounds of an angry car horn.
The cemetery was close. Even in the dark, Jack could recognize the trees and curve of the road that came before the graveyard’s entrance. The two lane highway hadn’t changed in the years since he had started his business. Sometimes, for fun, he would close his eyes and predict where a pothole would be, or when he’d have to slightly move his steering wheel to follow the gentle bend in the road. A rusty wrought iron fence and a red reflector on a brick post marked the entrance. Jack was at the cemetery.
Overgrown grass, leaning tombstones, and dead oak trees filled the oldest cemetery in the county. Not many people used it anymore, it was deemed creepy by young families burying their loved ones. It stayed open due to the amount of deceased residents that resided in the ground and mausoleum. Jack found the disorder of the place unsettling, not due to it being a cemetery, but due to there being no pattern to how the bodies were laid out.
A two track path cut through the grounds, leading grieving friends and family through the graveyard. Jack flipped on his high beams and cautiously drove the van toward the back where the Grim Reaper liked to hide. He ran through his mental checklist: form AL-13, trade-in, rope, boots, gloves, snack, and latest Real Simple magazine. He knew he had it all, but being prepared never hurt anyone. His lights fell upon the marble stone that would be used as the location for the trade.
Life in the cemetery was dominated by the wildlife. The background music was filled with the hoots of owls, the chirps of crickets and the croaks of frogs. A chill air gripped Jack as he left the van. Drool pooled underneath the drugged woman in the back of the van. Jack calmed his nerves, stuck his hands in his gloves and grabbed the woman. He brought her out into the night breeze. She shivered but didn’t wake. Her towel fell to the grass, revealing her bare skin. Jack dropped her and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Jack walked to the side of the van and punched its side, the thud quieting the cemetery for a moment.
Jack knew he had to get over his issue of living skin. Especially tonight, when it was close to the time the Grim Reaper was going to be there. Even though they had a deal, Death didn’t like to be seen. It wasn’t really clear why, maybe Death wanted to keep an air of mystery about. Either way, Jack didn’t have long to get the woman tied to the post. He steeled himself and grabbed the rope. Then he began to drag her through the wet grass.
The marble post was a hulking monolith sprouting from the earth. It was a leftover post from a building that had fallen apart due to a storm that had torn through the area years ago. The post leaned awkwardly to one side, allowing Jack to stand the woman up and lean her against it. The girth of the post was too wide for him to easily wrap the rope around, he had to walk the rope around. Revolutions ticked away as he wrapped the woman to the post. On his eight pass, he tripped on an exposed root and cracked his head on a rock.
He cursed as blood oozed out of a gash on his forehead. His stomach flipped and he couldn’t swallow the vomit. The hit knocked the number out of his head. With no time left to count the number of coils, he tied off the leftover rope. Then he placed the magazine onto the ground next to the woman and ran over to a nearby tombstone.
Watching Death wasn’t exactly micromanaging, but a good way for him to make sure he could check every box on his checklist. If this Death could be coerced into giving Jack the ability to pick who died, than there is a chance that Death might be coerced into not picking up the trade-in. So, he wanted to watch to make sure the job was getting done.
Knowing everything that was going on around him was how Jack coped with life. In past jobs, he always tried to get promoted as fast as he could. His goal wasn’t to be in charge -- it was a perk -- but his goal was to be in the know. He hated not knowing everything happening around him.
And since he has been working with Death, directing who Death took, put him in the position of controlling what was going to happen.
The tombstone was cool against his back. He could feel the texture of the stone, the grooves of names carved into the marker. The moisture on the grass soaked into his coat. While he waited he opened up his granola bar and ate.
It never crossed his mind to think about the trade-in tied to the post. The fact that he had taken one life and traded it for another. This person could have lived for years, maybe done some great things, but Jack had just drugged them and sent them to death. Instead of thinking of that, he enjoyed the sweetness of the chocolate chips and oats. Peace came over him in these times of waiting. The fragrant smell of overgrown grass, trees, and dirt washed over him. A half smile formed on his face as he let his mind fill with nothingness.
A slight rustle broke the silence. He quietly wrapped the half eaten granola bar in its wrapper and placed it in his pocket. Then he turned and peeked out from behind the gravestone to watch the Grim Reaper come. What he saw, however, was not part of the system. The Grim Reaper was not alone.
Three bare skeletons walked with the Grim Reaper. Each one held a clipboard. The Grim Reaper was ahead of them, and he looked nervous. He seemed to avoid looking directly at the trade-in and instead turned his head back and forth, looking for something. In a very human gesture, Death chewed on one of his fingers. The plan for tonight had taken an unexpected turn and Death appeared to not know what to do.
Jack slowly turned and slid down the tombstone, dumbfounded. Something had changed, something that Jack couldn’t have predicted and now there was a chance that things were going to change. He mentally cycled through contingency plans. Nothing came to mind. Who are these guys? Could they be interns? That can’t be it, Death never mentioned anything about that before. Maybe it’s a new thing they do at their death collecting school?
Jack closed his eyes and tried his best to will Death to do the right thing. If Death just acted like this was normal, maybe everything could be okay. Then he heard their gravely voices, and the blood drained from his face.
They were auditors.
“We know that the graveyard is your territory. It’s stated very clearly in your job description. And this is the usual level for rookies.” One of them said.
“What we don’t understand is why you don’t take us directly to subject MC-975? Do you usually wander the cemetery in a state of confusion?” Another asked.
“Er, no. But, I thought you guys would like a chance to see the world. Maybe a chance to feel the air on your bones? I don’t know how often you get out.” Death said.
“We get out enough. We are not here to see the world. We are here to determine why your numbers seem to not match.” The first skeleton asked.
“I’ve never had a problem before. My numbers are always at quota. I bring them in on time. I didn’t think there was anything else we worried about.” Death said.
“Yes, your quota is always met, and timing has never been an issue. But, the problem is, you are bringing in the incorrect subjects. You do realize we interview the subjects before processing them, right? They don’t understand why they are here. Which shouldn’t be a surprise for someone in this territory. And after researching your forms, there seems to be an inconsistency with who was requested and who was brought in.” The skeleton said.
“It took us a while to track the error. Your numbers match two out of three points, but it is that last point that is confusing us. Something doesn’t add up. So, we are here to determine if it is a glitch with our system or if something else is happening that needs to be corrected.” The third skeleton said.
“So, just take us through what you normally do. Pretend we are new recruits and talk us through your night. Relax, we are not here to do anything drastic.” The first skeleton said.
“Uh, cool, that sounds good. So, uh,” The Grim Reaper paused and looked around, “right, I would come to the cemetery. I would definitely not walk around and look up at the moon, or look for anyone living. It’s one of the first rules, ‘do not talk to or interact with the living’. So, instead of doing that I would pull out my clipboard and check the ID number which should correspond to the subject I’m bringing in.”
The Grim Reaper continued to explain in detail what he was taught in class. The three skeletons nodded and periodically checked their clipboards.
Jack watched from behind the gravestone. He listened to Death drone on. It was fascinating to learn about the inner workings of how a soul was collected. However, the more he listened, the more he could pick out the inefficiencies in the system. Or, he thought, this guy didn’t really pay attention to class. The skeletons were not buying it.
As the Grim Reaper continued his lengthy description of what to do, the woman was starting to awaken. Jack saw her twitch and squirm in the ropes. It was only a matter of time before she woke up and screamed. If that happened, there was a couple of possible outcomes: Death would have to try to explain why a woman was tied up, they would want to kill her, or she would get someone’s attention. Jack thought that maybe if they killed her, everything would be okay. But the other two outcomes would not work out for their agreement. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his dart gun.
Death and the three skeletons hadn’t noticed the woman moving. She still wasn’t fully awake yet. Jack steadied the gun on the tombstone and took aim. He breathed in deep, settling his body, and squeezed the trigger. As the dart flew, an errant wind came and pushed the dart off course. It flew straight and true, right into the head of one of the skeletons. It bonked him in the skull with a dull thud and fell to the ground.
All four of them stopped. Death’s jaw hung open and stared at the skeleton that was hit. The three skeletons looked at each other, then at Death, than toward the direction that the dart had come from.
Jack had dropped behind the tombstone as soon as he had seen the dart fly toward the skeleton. He sat behind the stone, sweating through his shirt. The names of forms and file systems cycled through his head as he prayed that they didn’t notice him. But, the crunching of grass under bone informed him he had only one choice left. He stood up.
“Who are you? Why did you fire a dart at my head?” A skeleton said, pointing at Jack with a bony finger.
“Who am I? I’m Agent 207, on assignment in this quadrant to investigate the lack of procedures in the procurement of soul retrieval. And I can see here that there is quite a mess.” Jack said.
The words came natural to him, even if they were complete nonsense. His only hope was that they would recognize the idea of another system watching them and that there was a confusion with the different bureaucracies.
“Well Agent 207, we are with the Afterlife Regulatory Commission and are in the process of clearing up what your agency is calling a mess. It still doesn’t explain why you fired a dart at me.” The skeleton said.
Jack froze midstep. He had been coming closer to them, hoping to catch the Grim Reaper’s eye socket, which had been focused on the ground.
“I, uh…” Jack stammered.
“Was it some sort of office joke? Maybe there is some sort of playful rivalry between our offices? I don’t understand the joke, but maybe it’s funny for the living? However, we have this under control. You can leave and let your superiors know that the ARC is researching the issue.” The skeleton said.
Jack began to reach for something to say to keep him here and to let him knock out the woman again. “I guess you guys never shot each other with darts before? It’s a ton of fun. Let me show you.”
Jack pulled out the gun again, and nonchalantly aimed it at the woman.
“It’s pretty simple, you just aim the dart gun at someone, like this, and squeeze the trigger. A harmless dart hits them, and you have a good laugh. It’s a great way to break up the monotony of the day. Let me show you.”
He began to squeeze the trigger.
“Wait just a minute.”
The dart sat in the barrell, Jack’s finger a hair’s breadth from sending the dart.
“Let me try it, it sounds like fun!” The skeleton said with an outstretched hand.
“Alright. Here you go.” He handed the gun over. “How about we use this person here.” Jack said, pointing toward the woman.
The skeleton held the gun in his hand, and stifled a laugh as he looked over at the other skeletons. The Grim Reaper finished studying the ground and watched the group with fear. Aiming the gun at the woman, the skeleton began to squeeze the trigger. Before Jack knew what was happening, the skeleton fired the dart into Jack’s leg.
“Gotcha!” The skeleton laughed.
Chemicals coursed through the dart into Jack’s bloodstream. He could feel the effects instantly. His arms and legs went numb, causing him to fall to his knees. His brain began to fill with cotton.
“Why did you shoot me?” He slurred.
“You are not Agent 207. You have been working with the young Grim Reaper here to trade in bodies for life. We knew what was going on and wanted to catch Death in the act. But, with you showing up, it allows us to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.” The skeleton said.
Death dropped his scythe and turned to run. One of the skeletons stood in his path, stopping any chance of escape. Even without muscle, he was strong, and able to subdue the Grim Reaper. Death half-heartedly tried to fight, but knew that it was pointless, he wouldn’t be able to escape. He hung his head and was ready to accept his punishment.
Everything in Jack’s head began to slow down, the cotton turning to sludge. He watched as Death stood there incarcerated. He tried one last plea to save his life, “He made me do this. I saw him a couple of years ago looking helpless. I went to see if he needed any help and he threatened me to do his work.”
“That is a lie. I didn’t make him do anything. He came up to me and offered a deal. I was too new to know any better!” The Grim Reaper said.
“Enough you too. Jeez, do you think we don’t know the truth? We’ve been around long enough to not be tricked by two idiots.” One of the skeletons said.
“We knew the Grim Reaper here had worked out a deal with a human. And we knew that you guys were meeting tonight. We just didn’t know who or what exactly was the transaction. Therefore, we filled out the proper paperwork, submitted it on time and requisitioned the time to come up tonight. We are not amateurs.” Another skeleton said.
Jack rolled his eyes. Even with the drug shutting down his functions, the inefficiencies set off flares of anger in his mind. Maybe it was the drugs, but he couldn’t keep it to himself, “I’m all for regulations and rules, but for an emergency like this, wouldn’t it have been better to just stop him before he even came up here? Also, what kind of training are you running where you’d let someone like him even be a Grim Reaper? Hell, I could be a better one than him.”
“Exactly. We might not have known it was you, but we knew whoever he was working with had skill. It was all in the paperwork.”
Jack trembled at the word paperwork. And he felt like he might know what was going to come next, the pattern forming slowly in his brain.
“Therefore, we wanted to come up here to see if we could meet you.” The skeleton finished.
“You are right to point out the issues with our training. There were a couple of teachers who, for a lack of better words, were lax on teaching. They wanted the most passed students in their classes. They have been dealt with. As for this one,” The skeleton pointed at Death, “we have ways to deal with those who let themselves be seen.”
The earth began to shake. Tombstones tumbled over, trees cracked, and grass began to burn. A jagged mouth split the ground open. Out of the mouth came smokey black tendrils. The smell of fire and blood filled Jack’s nose. The tendrils began to wrap around Death, burning his robe. A horrible noise tumbled out of Death’s skull as the tendrils intertwined with his ribcage and snaking through his eye socket and jaw. Bones shattered and snapped, the sound echoing throughout the cemetery. The tentacles pulled the Grim Reaper into the gaping mouth. Then the jagged mouth closed and Death was no more.
The skeletons faced Jack. He was swaying on his knees, on the verge of passing out.
“We want to recruit you. You definitely have the knack for getting the subjects. And we have a feeling you have a respect for paperwork and bureaucracy. We can offer you a pass through most of the training. You’d obviously still need to go through it so that you understand some of our unique rules, such as not being seen by the living. That one is important.” The main skeleton said.
“There are some great benefits and a promotion track. You’d have to work the cemetery territory first, but with your skill, I imagine it wouldn’t be long. As you progress you will have more access to our databases and files on the world. For the most part you control your hours and while there isn’t pay, you do get to see the world.” Another skeleton said.
“But you can’t be living. You’d have to forfeit your life to the company. We brought the application form as well as AL-100, which says that you would like to give up living.” The third skeleton said.
Even though Jack had a feeling that this was coming, it was still a shock. Could he give up his life? He thought about his office in the alleyway. The days of sitting in the steamy room, working with terrible clients. Then there was all the bare skin he has to see everyday.
“I’m in. I am a little drugged up, however. So can one of you help me sign it?”
“Of course. We are so happy to have you on our team. ”
Without skin it was hard to tell if they were smiling, but Jack thought he saw a hint of a smile on their skulls as they put the proper forms onto the clipboard. They placed the clipboard under his hand and guided his signature. The contract and form was perfect.
His head swam with the idea of finally having the perfect job. All of the information I’m going to have access to! He was giddy with the prospect of his new life. I could get used to wearing robes, he thought.
The skeletons lifted him up and carried him into the growing mist. Something nagged at the back of Jack’s mind, like he was forgetting something, something important. The mist swallowed the four of them before he could remember what it was.
The cemetery slowly transformed to normal. Frogs began to croak. A raven cawed and flew into the night. The grass glistened from the moisture of the fog. A woman squirmed in her ropes and was able to get loose. She ran from the spot until she found a van. A plan formed. He was able to trick Death into doing what he wanted. Seems simple enough for me to do that too, she thought as she got in the van. She found an address on a business card, an address that pointed to an office in the back of an alley.
She went to the office and waited for the time to visit the cemetery and congratulate Jack on his new job.
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