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| Photo by Wystan |
Ares sat in his favorite comfy chair, reading Soldier of Fortune magazine and laughing
hysterically. He always loved reading
obvious mall cop’s ideas about how best to do battle. He loved the pictures of so called assault
rifles, loaded down with so many accessories they would make Rambo shake his
head in embarrassment for the poor sap caught carrying it.
Ares was all for overwhelming and unrelenting force, and he
owned an impressive collection of exotic weapons. The difference was that his collection was
made up of weapons which were all effective, he knew damn well how to use them, and he
knew that he could and would use them.
In a heartbeat, without thinking twice.
If he was feeling honest, he would tell you he’d usually use
them without even thinking once.
When his phone rang, he was a little disappointed he had to
put the funny magazine down, but he did, and composed himself before answering.
The voice on the other end said, “Ares, this is Death. Can you come here?”
Ares’s mood suddenly got even better.
“You’ve got it. Where
is here?” Ares said.
“I’m in front of a little coffee shop called the Bump &
Grind, in…” Death said, but Ares interrupted her.
“Oh, wow, cool. Have you
met the owner of that shop? She is OK,
mostly,” Ares said.
“Um. I guess I haven’t
met her yet,” Death said. “So could you
come here?”
“On my way,” Ares said.
Seconds later, Ares appeared on the sidewalk next to
Death. It was dark outside, and the two
of them stood in the shadows outside the Bump & Grind, unnoticed. Inside, the owner and one of the employees
were putting the chairs up on top of the tables, and taking care of the other
final details for the day before closing up shop.
“Hey Death! Are you
ready for that dinner?” Ares said, by way of greeting.
There was a long pause, and then Death said, “No. My bike is gone.”
This time it was Ares’s turn to pause and think.
What he said, when he spoke again, was, “Oh, shit. Hep is going to be pissed off.”
“What does Hep have to do with this?” Death said, a little
exasperated.
“Hep gets a little irritated when things he’s built have
gone missing. You know he built that
bike for me. Actually, it was in trade
for Achilles’s armor. If you want to get
him ranting sometime, ask him about Achilles.
Anyway, he wanted the armor back.
It had been missing for a couple thousand years, you know,” Ares said.
“Well, that sucks for Hep, but it doesn’t solve my immediate
problem, which is that my motorcycle has gone missing. I’m calling you in hopes that you might have
some idea where to start looking,” Death said.
“Why would I know where to start looking? That’s kind of a stretch,” Ares said.
“Because it was your bike first. Because there are a lot more people who are
annoyed with you than there are annoyed with me. And because you’re in touch with all of the
old crowd. I barely have time to send
anyone an occasional post card. They
can keep their eyes peeled, and one of them might have heard something,” Death
said.
“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense,” Ares said. “OK, well, I can start asking around a bit
and see if anyone has heard anything.”
“That’d be great,” Death said.
“Any chance I can buy you dinner, since we’re here?” Ares
said.
“No,” Death said.
“OK. The offer
stands, anyway,” Ares said. “Say, where’s
that little intern that has been following you around?”
Death hadn’t been expecting to be asked that question, and
she answered before she had a chance to stop herself.
“She’s back at my apartment.
I left her there while I try and figure out what to do with her, since
she had to go and visit an old friend of hers.
One that knew damn well that she’s been dead for two years. I’m having a hard time trusting her at the
moment. I can’t have her out advertising
the job we do, and I don’t care to keep accompanying her to every collection to
make sure she’s doing what she’s supposed to be doing, so I’ve got her back at
my place planning deaths,” Death said.
“Wow. So you got her
under lock and key, huh?” Ares said.
A little light flickered on in Death’s mind. There was something there, but she couldn’t
quite put her finger on it.
“No, she’s not confined, she’s just on time out,” Death
said.
“Yeah, I suppose it’s harder to deal with someone after
their already dead,” Ares said. “I’d
have asked why you hadn’t just killed her, otherwise. Actually, I have to ask, what makes you think
she can be trusted to stay in your apartment?”
The owner of the coffee shop and the employee came out a
door close to Death and Ares then, talking seriously, in subdued tones, as the
owner locked up.
“All those people, I just can’t believe it,” the owner said.
“I can’t either. And
I just can’t believe that they don’t have any idea what killed them,” the
employee said.
Death’s ears perked up, and she turned around to
listen. “All those people”? “Killed”?
Ares had turned to listen as well. By chance, the owner of the shop glanced in
his direction, and away again. Then
slowly back to look at him again. She
clearly recognized him. Several
expressions crossed her face, none of them friendly or welcoming.
Ares waved at her and said in a friendly voice, “Hey Tamara.”
“What the hell are you doing here? I moved away from California to get away from
you and your freaky roommate, and I still don’t want anything to do with you,
Ares,” Tamara said.
“Whoa, jeez, Tamara, I just said hello,” Ares said. “Lighten up a little bit.”
“Is everything OK?” her employee said. She looked extremely uncomfortable, but also
ready to jump in and help out, if needed.
“Stay here, please.
Keep your phone ready in case you need to call the police,” Tamara
said. Then, to Ares, she said, “Go away,
and don’t come back.”
“What’s the scoop here, boss?” her employee said.
“This guy and his roommate are mixed up in some kind of
crazy shit, and they dragged me into it.
I don’t know if it was part of some weird plan to pick me up or what,
but I don’t want anything to do with either of them. Somehow I’m not really surprised it’s this one that showed up again, though.”
Death was a little curious about what the story was there
between Ares and Tamara, but she was far more concerned about what the two of
them had said about what sounded like a whole bunch of people, killed. Tamara and her employee hadn’t noticed Death
yet.
Death made herself noticeable then.
Tamara jumped back when she saw Death, and her employee
followed suit.
“Where the hell did you come from?” Tamara said. She was holding her keys out in front of her,
defensively.
Death said, “Relax, I’ve been here the whole time. You must just not have noticed me. Ares was just leaving - weren’t you Ares? –
and he’s here because I asked him to meet me here. It’s just a coincidence. Say, uh, what were you talking about when you
came outside? Has there been some kind
of disaster?”
Tamara looked at Death suspiciously. She said, “You mean you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” Death said.
She was getting more concerned by the second.
“An entire stadium full of people just died. There’s no explanation. No one knows if it was a terrorist thing or
what,” Tamara said. “How did you miss
it? It’s on every radio station, and
every channel on TV.”
Death was going to ask Tamara another question, but her
phone starting beeping at her.
Constantly. She pulled it out, and
the screen read
IMMEDIATE
IMMEDIATE
IMMEDIATE
IMMEDIATE
Every time the phone beeped, another “IMMEDIATE” appeared on
the screen. The phone did not stop
beeping.
“Oh shit,” Death said.
***
Thirty thousand people had been in the stadium. Well, technically speaking, the thirty
thousand people were still in the stadium.
The difference was that they were all dead now. And so, there were thirty thousand souls,
milling about in various states of confusion, grief, relief, annoyance, anger
and every other possible reaction. All
of them were baffled as to how they could all have died at the same time, without
there being some kind of obvious wreckage or other sign of things gone
wrong.
Some of the souls had gathered in little groups, here and
then, conversing. The subjects of discussion were not limited to
the obvious issue either. In the way
people do, lots of the souls were discussing anything but the fact that they
had all just died. A shocking number of
them were discussing the weather. A few of
the more bold souls were discussing the game they had been watching, and which
team would have won if they hadn’t been, uh, interrupted. And, of course, a few here and there were
loudly demanding to know what the hell had just happened.
Anyone still alive and in that place would have been haunted
by how silent the stadium was. However,
those who could see the dead would not at all be surprised by the cacophony of
30,000 voices. To the dead, it still
sounded like they were in a stadium.
Which is why none of them heard the motorcycle rumbling at
idle, or noticed the young woman astride the motorcycle, parked on the top of
the outer wall of the stadium, looking down on them.
Andi looked down on the stadium full of souls, feeling the
motorcycle as it rumbled and shook beneath her.
She looked down upon what she had wrought, and felt proud. Powerful.
“I am become Death,” Andi murmured to herself. Andi
the Destroyer of Worlds.
No, she thought. Andi the revolutionary. Andi the Liberator.
If anyone had been looking, they would have seen
Andi smile. She kicked the bike into
first gear, and roared away, vanishing before she reached the end of the wall.
