The Counter-Death Act

Prologue:

 My name is Melanie Prochette. And I just eloped with Death.

Chapter One: Before All That

 "Jesus Christ, Jared! Control your son!" my mother snaps at her fiancee, who's busy trying to concentrate on the road ahead of him. His fists are white-knuckling the steering wheel, and I can't see it, but I know for sure there's a scowl on his face. My mother huffs a sigh and turns to face me and my five-year-old soon-to-be-step-brother, pulling on her seatbelt while she smacks his knees. "Sit down, dammit!" she scolds.

 His name is Alex and he's hiped up on a juice box and a pixy stick I bought for him back at the last gas stop. This family trip to Plymouth was going to be a dreadful boring one if I hadn't. We still had five hours left to go, and it had only taken fifteen minutes for the sugar to kick in. Now he'd be hyper for about an hour or two, crash and fall asleep, then I'd have a peace and quiet to enjoy for hopefully the rest of the drive. He squeals at my mother's smacks and pinches to his knees, squirming in his carseat like a fish on dry land, and laughing histerically as he struggles to keep his toy from her reach. As if that's what she was really reaching for. "Mine!" he whines, but is still smiling, his two front teeth missing so she can see his tongue wriggling in his mouth while he smiles with glee.

 My mother lets out another huff, turns her glare at me and growls out, "I told you not to buy him any candy! I know it was you, Mel! No more, you hear me?" she hisses and turns back around in her seat. "Keep him occupied! But I swear, if he throws another toy at the windsheild again-!" she threatens, letting us fill in the blanks ourselves.

 Jared--her poor sap of a fiancee--can be heard sighing deeply and irritably in the driver's seat and for a second I thought I saw his shoulders relax a little from the annoyed hunch they'd been in only moments before. But maybe it's just me. Even if he was a little more relaxed now, it wouldn't last long. As if sensing my thought process, he tenses up again. "MOTHERFUCKER!" he shouts at a red car that cuts our white minivan off. He waves a fist at the car ahead of us, though we're all pretty convinced that driver can't see.

 I sigh too. We'd already been driving for three hours since about eight that morning, and the trip couldn't have felt longer. I blow a piece of my auburn hair out of my eyes, shove it all over one shoulder and adjust my navy jacket so I was more comfortable under my seatbelt. I then turn to my five-year-old seat buddy and grab up one of his colouring books and non-stainable markers. "Here, Al, let's colour." I suggest, offering the tools to him.

 But he has none of it. Colouring is too boring for someone as hyped up as he is. He kicks the colouring book off his lap and sends the markers flying everywhere in a flurry, letting out a defiant scream. "NO!"

 My mother growls again at how the markers spilled all over the floor of the back of the minivan and some of them had even collided with her head. "Dammit, Alex!" she snapped again. She shoots a look at Jared, who simply gazes ahead with his own scowl, and she huffs a second time, trying to go back to her book. "Clean it up, Mel!"

 I resist the urge to burn holes in the back of her head with my eyes and do as she commanded, leaning down and grabbing at markers, stretching until the seatbelt is aching against my gut. "Why do we have to go to Plymouth anyway? We go every year! Why couldn't I go to Seaworld with my friends this time?! I mean... for fuck's sake, I'm nineteen, mom!"

 "Melanie Thee Prochette, you watch your mouth!" my mother scolds, not looking back at me. Like she has room to talk... "Just like you said, we go to Plymouth every year. You used to LOVE Plymouth! What's wrong with it now?" she asked. Even in her voice, I can sense she rolled her eyes.

 "Maybe because it never changes? Yeah, maybe I liked it when I was Alex's age, but now it's just old." I whine, shoving the last of the markers into a ziploc bag and putting it all under the seat with the rest of Alex's toys. Damn kid had a stock under there that would last him a week! My mother insisted we bring practically his entire toy chest to keep him occupied and quiet, but by now it was obvious he was only happy with one toy out of the thirty we brought, and it wasn't even working well at keeping him quiet. I flinched visibly at another one of his shrieks. At least someone here was excited about Plymouth. "You wouldn't even let me bring Stephanie along! She offered to pay for her own way too! How unfair is that?" I continue, sitting back in my seat with my arms crossed and my knees up against the back of my mother's seat.

 My mother growled in annoyance and turned to face me again, glaring at me over her seat's headrest. "Melanie, I told you, we wouldn't have had room in the hotel room. You're going to have to take the pull out couch, you know that! Plus, it's just one more whiney teenager I don't need to keep track of." she grumbles. "It'll be fine. Just deal with it. We'll be back in Jackson before you know it." She then turned back around in her seat and opens her book to where she left off.

 I give a very similar huff, one that twins the ones my mother gives, and I glare out of my window with my arms crossed. Yeah, I would have to use the pull-out couch when I got there.. and lord knows there wouldn't have been room for Stephanie. She may have been skinny, but I was not. I was nineteen years old, and just over one hundred and fifty pounds at five feet and six inches, and my mother couldn't stop rubbing it in my fat face. It wasn't my fault. I gained all that weight when my mother insisted I start birth control pills, and then very quickly pulled me off of them again. Some pills have that effect on the body, and I should know, I was warned before I even started. I sighed again and leaned my head back, ignoring Alex's babbles and shrieks and kicking in his carseat as best I can, but finally have to resort to putting in my earphones and blasting my ipod. If I open my eyes, I can see my mother shouting and smacking at Alex's knees again, only this time with the background music courtesy of my friend's band Distasteful, which was a cross between hard metal and pop. A good mix, if I do say so myself. I smirk a little at how Alex so blatantly ignores her, only more amused at her curses and smacks, until she finally smacks him so hard he begins to cry, his sobbing screams only muffles against my music, but still somehow audible. In an attempt to drown them out further, I turn up my music and look out my window, sensing the tension between Jared and my mother as they argue in the front seats. Why they were getting married, I'll never know.

*****

 I don't know exactly when I fell asleep, or how I could with my earphones still blasting incomprehensible swears into my head, but when I wake up, we're only an hour away from Plymouth. Alex is asleep in his carseat beside me, his head lolled to one side and his mouth open with a trickle of drool dropping onto his favorite stuffed blue dinosaur's head. I look up front to see my mother has also fallen asleep, and Jared looks like he could really use some. I turn off my Distasteful music, yank out my earphones, and shove the little piece of technology into the back flap of the seat in front of me. "Glad to see the circus has finally left." I say softly, not wanting to wake said "circus" from their slumber.

 Jared lets out what sounds like a laugh, but could be mistaken for a cough, and he shakes his head. "Seriously." he mumbles, glancing back at me with raised eyebrows. "How'd you sleep?"

 "Fine, considering I was in a car. Although I have a bitch of a neck cramp now... One of you couldn't give me a pillow?" I ask, rubbing where it was sore the most. The rubbing helped, but only until I stopped rubbing.

 "Sorry. Your mom packed all the pillows between the coolers to keep things from shifting, remember? I didn't have a pillow to give you. But it's okay, we're almost there anyway." Jared shrugs, sighing plaintively. "I'm sorry your mom is dragging you to this. I tried to stick up for you, I really did. Seaworld is a cool place... but she insisted."

 I roll my eyes and shift myself in my seat to sit up a little more, dropping my knees from the back of my mom's seat. Great, now I have a pain in my ass right about where my coccyx is. "Thanks, Jerry." I was the only one that Jared would allow to call him Jerry. For being the poor sap about to marry my monstrous mother, he wasn't such a bad guy. Always seemed to be a little on the rocks, but he wasn't bad. "But it's no use with her. It's just how she is."

 "Don't I know it." Jared pauses for a moment after that sentence, letting it linger between us like a scrap of meat between a couple of well-trained dogs, neither one of them wanting to fight for it, but also not willing to let it go unnoticed. "Listen, I won't make you go to the plantaition if you don't want to. Not this year. I'll vouch for you if you wanna escape for a while. I mean.. I hear they put up a new mall on the coast... you could visit that?"

 "All by myself? Yeah, that's a happy thought process: an overweight and overburdened teenager walking around the mall by herself. That's a desparate cry for a wedgie and taunts from the anorexics." I can't help saying it the way I do--a mix between sarcasm and boredom, with just a drop of depression--but it certainly comes out that way. "Nevermind it, Jerry. Thanks, but I have no choice but to stick this one out... unless I want my head bitten off by the dragon, here." I say with a haphazard motion to the back of my mother's head. Her bright red and blonde hair is frizzing out in all directions and actually sort of does remind me of a dragon.

 Jared nods and tightens his grip on the steering wheel, pushing on the gas pedal a little to speed passed another car, and move over into the next lane so he can take the exit off the highway. "Suit yourself." he says once he's able to break his concentration. "Just remember my offer stays on the table."

 "Thanks." I mutter. We were going to be staying in Plymouth for a whole week, and the only thing my mother had planned to do was visit the plantaition and take a tour of "Colonial Times". I had no friends in Plymouth, despite the many times we'd gone there over the past fifteen years (and wow does saying it like that make me feel old all of a sudden), and only just recently did the town decide to erect a mall on the coast to keep youngsters interested. I sigh loudly and slouch back in my seat again, which brings a strange relief to my aching coccyx. For the rest of the trip, I mostly zone out the window, watching the scenery fly by even if there isn't much to look at. Mostly trees, dirt, grass, corn, and--if I'm lucky--a shitty, hand-made, barbed wire fence or a silo. My only solace was found in watching the street signs that claimed we were inching closer and closer to our destination. Finally, it was only two miles away, and my mother was beginning to stir.

 "Where are we, Jared?" she instantly asks as she straightens herself out with a grunt. As Jared tells her our exact location, she's pulled down the visor above the windsheild and slid open the cover to the light-up mirror, combing down her hair with her fingers. When that proved unsuccessful, she pulled out her pick comb. For some reason, she always carried one with her. She spotted me watching her in her tiny mirror and tried to give a small smile. "See, Mel? That trip wasn't so bad."

 I don't answer right away, but make a sort of pouty face and go back to looking out the window. "I hope we get there soon. I have to piss like a pregnant lady." I grumble.

 I get a slight glare in the mirror's reflection as she shuts it away again and closes the visor. "That's not funny." my mother retorts, as she's adjusting her shirt over her large pregnant belly and smoothing it down.

 With an eerily palpable tension inside the car now, the last one and a quarter mile to Plymouth seem to take forever. When we finally pull into the parking lot of our hotel, I jump from the minivan, throw my arms in the air and shout, rather dramatically, "FREEDOM!" I then proceed to drop to my knees and make like I'm kissing the dirt. I'm not really. I would kill myself before I let my lips actually touch the filthy terrain that so many a tourist has trekked on. But it makes a good show to pretend.

 My mother slams her passenger side door and gives my butt a kick with her purse, rolling her eyes. "Stop it, Mel! People will stop and stare!" she scolds. "Now come help with the luggage while I go check in." She turns on her heel and stalks off to the lobby, giving a pleasant smile to someone kind enough to hold the door open for a third-trimester pregnant lady. I feel bad for the clerk already.

 I wait until she's out of sight in the lobby before I pull myself to my feet again, dusting off my hands and knees and walking to the back of the minivan. Jared is currently in the process of waking a very groggy and fussy Alex, unbuckling him from his carseat while Alex complains and sniffles. No doubt he's had his sugar crash by now and is feeling pretty achey in the head. As mean as it sounds, I can't help but smile. I sort of feel bad... but I was also proud. I mean, my plan worked, didn't it? I pull out suitcase, after suitcase, after suitcase and stack them beside the van, going from my mom's stuff, to mine, to Jared's, and lastly to Alex's. The cooler of treats is the last thing to come out. "Seriously, Jared, next time, don't let my mom pack the car. That way the next time we take a trip, we can have some of the drinks we packed away."

 "I know, I know, my bad." Jared groans, waving it off as he pulls Alex to him, setting him on his hip and grabbing for his blue dinosaur before Alex can make too much of a fuss about leaving it behind. He slides the door shut and moves to my side, counting the bags and nodding. "Everything's here. Good job." He gave my shoulder a friendly pat and quickly moves on to grab the largest suitcase he can manage, knowing that if he didn't now, my mother would. What can I say; Jared's a pretty alright guy.

 The room we get into is just like any other generic hotel room; poorly vaccumed carpet that can't really be considered carpet because it's too flat and stale, a kitchen/dinette/living area with a couch, a small desk and a television, along with the necessities of the kitchen. One doorway led into the bedroom, which had a king-sized bed with some form of floral comforter and pillows that are too flat, a dresser, two bedside tables that housed an alarm clock and a lamp with another television across the room, and the air conditioner under the window. Another doorway led into the tiny, single bathroom, cramped with a toilet, a tub shower and a long counter with an equally long mirror. I took some extra time to locate where the extra stacks of towels were in one of the cupboards in the bathroom counter, along with some spare toilet paper rolls. I examined the shower and the tub at my feet, grimacing at the smell of bleach. Well, at least the room was prepared for us ahead of time. But for all I knew, probably the only reason the bathroom had been bleached was because someone had been recently murdered. I helped Jared load the rest of the luggage into the room, putting his, my mom's and Alex's suitcases in the bedroom with the king-sized bed, and then put my own stuff beside the couch in the far corner of the room. I was grateful that the living room window--which was the size of a glass sliding door--had thick shades and curtains on it that could be closed to effectively block out the sun. Hopefully I'd get some sleeping in done while I was here.

 Once everything was settled, Jared and my mom start talking about how they want to go to the indoor swimming pool downstairs, and Alex seems to quickly recover from his sugar crash at this prospect. Jared follows Alex into the bathroom to help him get into his suit, and change into his own, and my mom locks herself in the bedroom to do the same. Meanwhile, I stay plopped on the couch, glaring at my handheld game. Bowser's going down this time. My fingers are still mashing the A and B buttons as my mom comes out of her room in a brand new suit that's pink with bright yellow flowers. It's a one-piece, because she's become too self conscious with her preggo belly to wear a bikini. "Are you coming, Mel?" she asked, trying to sound pleasant.

 I make a grunt sound and shake my head, leaning back on the couch to slouch in my seat. "No. I think I'll stick around here and make myself comfortable." I can't be bothered to swim in an indoor pool that's supposed to be warmed but is really just mildly cold. Not to mention, I didn't exactly look great in a suit. I had opted to leave mine behind, but my mom insisted I bring it along, so I made the executive decision that it would never leave the cramped corner compartment of my suitcase. "Maybe the front desk has a game console I can rent."

 "That's great, Mel. We're on vacation in Plymouth, and you want to lock yourself in the room to play video games." my mother scoffs at me, fixing her hair into a braid in the mirror that is randomly perched on the hallway wall.

 I open my mouth to retort, but Jared and Alex come out of the bathroom, Alex running with his arms up and squealing excitedly and Jared walking with a little more reserve, but smiling nonetheless. He blinks at me and tilts his head as he gathers towels, saying, "You're not going with us?"

 Before I can answer, my mother steps in. "No, she's decided she wants to make this room her cave." She angrily grabs the towels from Jared and steps out into the hall, being courteous enough to wait for Jared and Alex. "Let's go!"

 Jared frowned at my mom as she took the towels, but he used the opportunity to life Alex onto his hip. "Maybe the front desk has a game console you can borrow?" he suggests.

 I laugh and nod, throwing my hands up in the air in a "I know" way. "That's what I said!" I smile. We share a laugh for a moment, but at another of my mother's less-than-patient beckonings, Jared heads for the door, bouncing Alex on his hip.

 "Well, we'll be back before dinner, so try to enjoy yourself 'til then." Jared calls back over his shoulder. "There's an extra room key on the dining table. Don't forget it if you decide to leave." My mother shouts something at him along the lines of "don't give her any ideas" and he leaves with a laugh.

 When the door finally latches closed, I switch off my handheld game--without saving, because Bowser once again murdered me and sent me back a level--and stand, fixed on exploring the room. I go to the dresser in the living room, look at the channel guide for the television, the phone list and look up the number for the front desk. I pick up the reciever, dial the number, and wait. All I get is a dial tone. Out of frustration, I slam the reciever back down and grab the tv remote. To my dismay, the hotel doesn't have cable, so the only channel I get even the slightest hint of entertainment from is the military channel, simply because they're blowing shit up while testing a new-age tank. The television gets turned off after fifteen minutes and I head to the fridge. It's stocked with only our own treats and food items we'd seen fit to bring along, mostly because, despite not having cable, the hotel does have a free dinner and breakfast buffet. I grab a water bottle, close the fridge door, and sigh. This was going to be a long trip.

 As I'm uncapping the water bottle and taking a first, long sip, I glance at the remaining room key. It has our room number, the logo of the hotel, and on the backside there's both a barcode and a magnetic strip. Arrows on one side of the card indicate the obvious way to slide it into the door to unlock it. I pull my lips from the lip of the bottle and stuff the room key into my back pocket of my jeans, then recap the bottle of water and carry that in one of the front pockets of my jacket. I make sure I have both my wallet and my cell phone before I go out of the room and close the door firmly behind me. The front desk is empty and I look both ways until an older woman finally shows up around a corner and she gives me a smile full of fake pleasantries. "May I help you?"

 I nod and steeple my fingers under my chin, fluttering my eyelashes sweetly. "Yes, a couple things, actually. First off: do you have a game console I can rent for my room?"

 "Yes, we have a selection of game consoles and games you can rent. It'll be added to your parents' bill." the desk clerk said sweetly, probably more upbeat now that she knows she'll get more money out of me.

 "Alright, can you please bring a Nintendo sixty-four to room three thirteen? And whatever Pokemon games you have. And secondly, do you have a map to the new mall on the coast?" I ask, tilting my head.

 The clerk smiles and nods. "Of course! Would you like me to call you a cab?"

 I retrieve the map as she slides it to me across the desk and I shake my head. "If I wanted a cab, I wouldn't have asked for a map." I say and raise my eyebrows. Her smile falters a little and I give her a wave. "Have a nice day!" With that, I turn on my heel and head out of the lobby. The map of the city and any nearby attractions has a trail to the new mall conveniently marked out with green highlighter. Obviously, this mall knew it would get good business if it worked in collaboration with the adjacent hotels. I remember the names of the cross-streets I have to go through to get there and figure it'd be about a thirty-minute walk, then shove the map back into my pocket. The streets aren't busy, and I didn't expect them to be. It's the lazy season--autumn--and kids are probably still in school. If I guessed correctly, the schools here were year-round. I cross the first intersection on my way to the mall and sigh deeply. For some reason, I feel excited or nervous. Is it because I actually got up the courage to make my fat ass go to the mall? To be seen in public by myself? Maybe it was just that I felt independent for once. Yeah, that had to be it. I try to put a little more skip in my step as I reach the second intersection on the way to the mall, shuffling myself at the end of the sidewalk and wait for the light to change. There's a group of people with me, a younger woman with a baby and a couple of teenage boys that are more than likely skipping class, jostling each other, and a few others I didn't take the time to notice. Cars are still flying by about three minutes later, and the light still doesn't change. I sigh and pull out my map, wondering if there's another way to the mall that doesn't include a broken street light.

 The jostling teenage boys give out loud shouts and one pushes the other hard enough to run into me, knocking me forward a couple steps. I look back at them and they simply laugh, and when I turn back around, I can hear them joking about how I was, thankfully, a good cushion. I exchange glances with the young mother, and she rolls her eyes with a sympathetic smile, then we both look ahead and continue waiting for the light. The shoving and rough housing continues with the guys behind us, and this time one shoves his friend into the young mother's back, hard enough to knock her into the street. I reach out and pull her back as a car races by, horns honking, and I glare over my shoulder. "HEY! She's got a baby, you pricks! Stop fucking around!" I snap. The woman is trying to shush her startled baby's crying and the guys give me glares and show me their middle fingers, telling me to fuck off. I try to preoccupy myself with helping the woman calm her baby boy, struggling to ignore the prods and taunts of the men behind us, letting their insults about my weight and sexual preference fly in one ear and out the other. Finally, the light changes and I let her go ahead of me to make sure she's separated from the men and the first one to get across the street.

 The rest of the day isn't as eventful. I spend the afternoon in the mall, walking around and checking out the stores and some merchandise in the windows. I see quite a few things I like, but I don't have money on me, so I have to move on. There's even a petstore in the mall and I visit the dogs, cats, birds, fish and rodents, giving each one a look over. Right when I get to the reptiles, a clerk approaches me and tells me the mall is closing. I look at my watch and frown. It's only nine o'clock. When I point this out to him, he tells me it's Sunday and that the mall always closes at nine on Sundays. Without giving him time to ask me if I'm from around here, I exit the pet store, then the mall, tossing away my now-empty water bottle in a recycle bin and shove my hands in my pockets. The walk back to the hotel is longer than the one it took to get out there. My feet hurt and I'm not looking forward to going back to my mother. She'll wanna know why I stayed out until nine o'clock at night with no note and I missed dinner. Oh, lords that be, I missed the buffet dinner. I roll my eyes at my inner thoughts and continue on, stopping when I reach the lobby doors. Now it's ten o'clock, and the clerk is turning down the lights in the lobby. The lobby stays open twenty-four hours, but it seemed to be common courtesy to turn down the lights at night. I walk in, give her a small glance and she frowns at me, moving on with her chores.

 I have to stop and take a breath with my hand on the doorknob before I slide the key into the slot and open it. I was right; the instant the door cracks open, my mother is shouting at my face, asking me where I've been and why for so long. When I tell her I was at the new mall, she makes it a point to tell me that I should have left a note and that she's instituting a new curfew. While we're in Plymouth, I cannot stay out any later than sundown. I try to argue, but she insists. It's for my own safety, apparently. Jared is the only one interested in learning about my trek to the mall. I tell him about the teens and the woman with her baby, and he laughs along with me. Alex is already down for the night, and was at eight, and my mom doesn't stay up much longer after I get back before she's out cold in the room as well. Soon, it's just me and Jared.

 A single standing lamp is on in the back corner of the living room, making the room dim so my mom can sleep with the door cracked because Alex is afraid of the dark. Jared and I are playing cards and I'm kicking his ass. "Ha! Draw." I laugh, slapping a king down.

 Jared laughs and draws four cards, then sifts through them. He glances at me. "So did you meet anyone else interesting today? Aside from the woman and the boys?" he jokes.

 I roll my eyes. "Just the hotel clerk. She's a real peach." The sarcasm is just dripping from my voice.

 Jared chuckles in response, lays down a card and clears his throat before continuing. "Yeah, I saw the game console and the games. Good choice. I was always a fan of the N64. I can't say I agree with the Pokemon games, though." I can tell he's teasing me, so I make a face at him and he laughs again. "I'm just sayin'."

 "Yeah, I know. I'm a nerd." I lay down another king, grin at Jared while he curses and draws more cards and I sigh. After a few minutes of silence, I lay my cards down and yawn. It's close to midnight and my eyes feel like bags of sand. "I'm done." I mumble.

 "Me too..." Jared agrees, cleaning up the cards and straightening the deck. He taps it on the surface of the table and looks at me with a smile. "So. Going to the plantation with us tomorrow?" He asks me this with raised brows, like he knows I'm going to say no, but is hoping I'll say yes.

 I groan and rub my eyes, sighing between my fingers. "I REALLY don't want to." I admit. "But my mom... God, my mom."

 Jared nods once and leans back in his chair, his hands on his lap. "I know." He sighs too and tosses a look back at the fridge, then smiles at me. "Want a beer?"

 I probably look like a dead fish when I look at him, my eyes open with surprise and confusion and my mouth slightly agape. "A beer? Jared, I'm nineteen." I remind him.

 "That never stopped me." he shrugs and stands from his seat. He goes to the fridge, pulls out two beer bottles and pops them open, offering me one. "C'mon. One won't kill you." he smiles. He wiggles it in front of my eyes until I finally take it, then he retakes his seat at the table.

 I watch him take a swig of his beer before hesitantly leaning mine towards my lips. I close my eyes and let the cold, light liquor run over my tongue and down my throat, and I cough. "Wow.." I mutter, squinting at the label. Bud Weiser Light. Figures. I lick it off my lips and swallow thickly. "That... does NOT taste like what I imagined." Jared shares a laugh with me. "I mean.. it tastes horrible! How can you drink it?"

 Jared laughs again and drinks from his bottle, tilting his head back as he does and then places the bottle on the table lightly, not wanting my mother to hear. "Yeah, you kinda gotta get used to it. There are some people who love the way it tastes and then there's others who have to get used to it just because they like the way it makes them feel." he smiles. "Of course, this doesn't mean I'm telling you to become an alcoholic."

 "If I do and mom finds out, I'm blaming you." I joke and smirk. I can't help but take another drink from my bottle, as if the taste of more beer will wash away the taste of beer from my mouth. We sit in silence and I sigh deeply, twisting my bottle in my fingers. "How did you get this in here, anyway? There's no way my mom let you have it... right?"

 "Well... No." Jared shrugs, swallows a gulp of beer and sighs. "I put in an order at the front desk while your mom and Alex were in the pool. Told them to hide it in the drawer in the bottom of the fridge. She still doesn't know it's there." he smiles.

 I can't say I agree with Jared keeping something like this from my mom, but I can't really disagree with him either. With my mother's raging hormones, it would drive anyone to drink. "Smooth." I agree in a mutter, smiling slightly. "Better hope she doesn't find out. If she does, you're as good as dead."

 "I know. I can't help it. We're on vacation, I should have the right to enjoy myself, right?"

 "Right." I nod with conviction. "You read my mind, Jerry." I chuckle and take another drink, and somehow my bottle is now only half full. My head is starting to feel a little fuzzy, but I pay it no mind. I've never drank before, so I have no idea what's normal and what isn't.

 Jared smiles and he leans forward with his elbows on the table, watching me. "Listen, Mel. I know you didn't want to come here. Trust me, I told her we should vacation in Hawaii instead. But you know your mother." he shrugs. "Anyway, I won't make you go to the plantation tomorrow, but you have to work with me here. Act sick or something so your mom won't argue."

 I look Jared over a bit and nod in acquiesence, then smile and lift my beer towards him. "To the right of enjoyment?"

 A laugh escapes Jared and he eagerly lifts his bottle to mine, repeating me, "To the right of enjoyment." We tap the necks of our bottles and both chug the rest of ours down, then Jared stands and clears his throat. "I'll take these to the trash bin down the hall. You should get to bed."

 Lifting the chair off the carpet so it wouldn't make any sound as I push it back, I stand with him and yawn again. "Okay. Thanks, Jerry. You're pretty alright." I pat his back a little and head for my suitcases, grabbing out my pajamas.

 "You too, Mel." he smiles. "I'll be back in a couple minutes."

 He leaves the room and closes the door, and I wait until I can't hear his footsteps on the hall before I start to change out of my clothes. I unzip my jacket, toss it aside, and strip down to my underwear. That mirror hanging randomly on the wall of the living room is making my reflection glare back at me with fuzzy edges, and I scowl. The pudgey girl is watching me again. Oh wait, that's me. I pat my stomach and sigh, then grab the over-sized shirt that were my pajamas and throw it over my head to hide it all. Perhaps a visit to a gym would be prudent when we got home. I crawl into the pull out couch, which Jared and my mother had been kind enough to make up for me before I'd gotten back from my mall adventure, and tug the blankets up to my chin. The ceiling fan is set on high, in adjunct to the air conditioning beneath the window at my left, so a shiver runs down my spine. I close my eyes, but I don't fall asleep until Jared has come back into the room about ten minutes later. I hear him shuffling to clean up our cards, clean the kitchen a little and then switches off the rest of the living room lights as he walks into the bedroom. He closes the door and I hear mumbles inside as he says goodnight to my mom, and then all is quiet. I imagine him snuggling Alex, who's snuggling his blue dinosaur, who's squashed against my mom's back, and I can finally fall asleep.



Chapter Two: Now That's Over With

 "C'mon, Mel! Wake up! We're supposed to be going to the plantation today!" My mother's voice is ringing in my ears. I groan in response and I hear her sigh. The weight on the bed shifts, then disappears and I hear her slippers slap against the carpet towards the window. Despite my sudden awareness and my begs for her not to, she pulls the curtains open and sunlight pours in like water breaking free from a dam.

 I hiss inwardly as my eyes scream at me in pain and bury my head under my pillows and blankets. "Mom! Seriously! Was that absolutely necessary?! God, I'm gonna go blind now!"

 "You are not, stop whining and get up."

 "I don't feel good, mom!" I whine, the sun still managing to sneak through the stitches of my sheets. My eyes adjust slowly and I have to push the sheets down again so I can breathe. How is it that the sun can get through the sheets, but air can't?

 My mother waddles to me, sits back down on my pull-out bed and puts her hand to my forehead. After a moment, she says (rather stoically), "It doesn't feel like you have a fever. Maybe it's your lack of sleep and food that's making you feel ill."

 I hold back the urge to glare at my mother and I fold my arms and pout. "Well I do. I feel very ill." I repeat. "I don't want to go to the plantation and risk vomiting all over one of the colonials." As much as I was trying to lie, I really did have somewhat of a headache and a queasy feeling in the back of my throat, no doubt from the beer Jared had given me.

 With a defeated sigh, my mother stands off my bed and waves her hand at me dismissively. "Fine. Stay here." she grumbles. She heads into the bathroom and locks herself in, with an echo of running water. She must not feel up to arguing today, because usually it takes a lot longer to wear her down.

 Jared emerges from the bedroom, Alex riding on his back and he smiles at me. "What's wrong, Mel?" he asks, loud enough for my mother to hear in the bathroom, with a hint of playful sympathy. "Not feeling well?"

 I resist a smile and nod matter-of-factly. Gotta keep up the charade in front of Alex too because he'd rat me out to my mom in a heartbeat. "Yeah, I feel really sick." I say, also loud enough for my mom to hear. "I don't think I can go to the plantation today, and I feel really bad." My voice gets slightly louder at the words "feel really bad," and I glance at the bathroom door.

 Jared snickers under his breath and winks. "Well, get plenty of rest and be sure to drink some water. We'll get some pictures for you and we can go again tomorrow, if you're feeling better." The emphasis on the word "if" was very subtle, but I was able to hear it. He smiles at me, shrugs to adjust Alex on his back and then spins in a circle, making Alex screech with joy. They continue their play like that around the room until my mother resurfaces from the bathroom, and she seems a little more calm now that she's convinced I feel bad about not being able to go. They put together a backpack of water bottles, snacks, and get Alex's stroller ready--me, all the while, still tucked into bed with the occasional groan of malaise--then tell me they'll be back by eight that night, give me kisses on my forehead and leave.

 Mentally thanking God that they're finally gone, I get up and go through my suitcase for a new outfit. Then I stop. Wait. If I'm going to be sneaking out, there's a possibility that I could get my clothes dirty. If I get a new outfit dirty, then my mom will know I snuck out. I stuff my clean clothes back into my suitcase and grab the ones I'd worn the day before instead. After I'm dressed, I snatch another water bottle from the fridge and head out, making sure the spare room key is still in my back pocket from the day before. I had a habit of forgetting to empty my pockets when I stripped my clothes. I checked my cell phone battery and cursed at it. The battery only had one bar left. Hopefully it would last the rest of the day, because I wasn't in the mood to sit around and wait for it to charge. After brushing my teeth and primping my make-up, I look out the living room window and wait until I see our white minivan pull out of the hotel parking lot, then take the chance to leave the room. The halls are empty, as is the front desk again, so I had no problem getting out unseen. Getting back in might be a challenge though. I didn't have the map with me this time because I remembered the names of the streets from the day before, and like yesterday, the first cross street was easiest to cross and the second was a huge pain in my huge ass.

 I shift weight on my feet as I wait for the light to change and a couple familiar voices reach my ears. It's the two teenage boys from the day before, and they're still shoving each other around like idiots. They come up behind me, and at first they don't notice me. I try not to turn around and confront them, but I don't have to; they see me and instantly notice my backside. They start snickering and making jokes behind my back, which I dutifully ignore, and then they start purposefully shoving each other into my back. I ignore them at first, simply clentching my fists in the pockets of my navy jacket, then at the third or fourth shove, right when I turn around to confront them, I'm pushed backwards so hard I stumble backwards into open traffic.

 Everything seems to move in slow motion then. The last thing I see is their faces, stricken with shock and regret at what they'd done just as my body collides with the hard surface of an oncoming Ford truck. Pain shoots through my entire body, but moreso on my right side with which the truck immediately makes contact with. Every bit of my insides lurch when I hear several sickening cracks and crunches, loud enough to drown out any other sounds, and I'm certain I see a blood splatter out of my peripheral vision. All I see is red spots and then blackness, even before my body skids to a stop on the black pavement beside the sidewalk. I can't see anything, but I feel warmth running down my forehead and I hear a woman scream and people calling the police. I can't tell if I'm in extreme pain or if everything is so numb from adrenaline that I'm not really feeling anything at all, but I know for sure I can't move. Then everything dulls and eventually dies out completely.

 I don't know where I am when my eyes flutter open, but it's very bright, and everything is white. I look around and realize I must be having some sort of out-of-body experience, because I'm certainly not in Kansas anymore. I push myself off the floor, on which I'd been on my back, and I try to study my surroundings more closely. There's about twenty, pearly white, high-backed chairs standing in a large circle around me, the closest ones on the floor and the last ten about a foot or two higher, as if on a step in a stadium. "Hello?" I call out. My voice echoes off invisible walls and bounces back to me mockingly, making me frown. "Um... is this Heaven? Am I supposed to be doing some sort of test?" I try again.

 At first, no one and nothing answers my question, then I hear the distinct sound of high heels on tile. I spin around to see a face that's strangely familiar. I squint in confusion and rub my eyes, then try looking again. A woman is walking towards me, dressed in all black, her blonde curls pinned back in a bun with only a few tiny ringlets framing her face. Her long dress sways and she smiles at me, as does the baby in her arms. "Welcome." she smiles. It's the woman with the baby from the day before.

 "Uh... hey." I greet back with a nervous wave, then blink at the baby. It's smiling at me in a way that suggests it's a little older than it lets on. "Where am I?" I ask them both, even if my eyes are on the infant in her arms.

 "You're in Limbo." the woman says, her smile not faltering and her blue eyes unwavering. She seems particularly calm for someone telling me this. "Melanie... My name is Faith. I brought you here."

 I shake a little, but hide it well and close my eyes, breathing deeply. "You mean.. I'm dead?" I ask slowly, peeking out one eye at her, as if her answer would hurt me in some horribly physical way.

 She laughs and nods a little. "For the time being, yes." she tells me, a little too honestly for my comfort. "Melanie, you were brought here because you're special and we wanted to talk to you."

 "We..?" I ask, obviously confused. As if beckoned, another eighteen figures in black appear in their respective chairs, all their faces different, yet somehow familiar. I'd seen them all before! Aside from the woman and her baby, there was a few older gentlemen, a young girl, some widowed woman, my mother's sister, who'd died of cancer three years before, and others. But the funny thing was that I remember seeing every one of their faces before, sometime within the last year or so. Except for my aunt, of course, whom I hadn't seen since her wake. My mouth gapes and I hear Faith laugh at me. "W-why am I here?"

 Before Faith can answer, the baby in her arms does instead. The voice that booms from him is definitely not one I expected. It's deep and it makes the room shake with energy, sounding more like a middle-aged man working for the opera. "You're here because we have a proposition for you."

 I stare at the baby a moment, then look at Faith. "Ooooo-kay, I'm going to ignore the fact that that baby sounds like a forty-something sports announcer and just spoke to me, and YOU can tell me what's happening here."

 The room bursts into laughter and I feel like I've been put on the spot for a moment, like I walked into my last day of school without pants on. Faith turns around, sets the baby in his chair, and then faces me again. "Don't mind him. His name is Conviction, and he can be a little overwhelming at first." She nods and clasps her hands in front of herself, tilting her head at me. "Mel, you're a very special girl. Someone like you is hard to find, and as I'm sure you can tell, we've been watching you for a while. All of us." She motions to the room as a whole and continues on. "It's a little hard to explain without going into some... political detail."

 A short, wry laugh escapes my chest and I have to clamp my mouth shut before I sound stupid, shaking my head. "So all of Heaven and Hell is just politics?"

 "No. Not Heaven, nor Hell, just Limbo. We do the politics, and Heaven and Hell just supervise." Faith shrugs matter-of-factly. "See, we are the Council, a sort of Congress for Heaven and Hell. We pass judgement on those who pass through here, and of course both God and Lucifer have the right to overturn us."

 "I see..." I lie, because I don't really understand at all, "and what does this have to do with me?"

 Faith shakes her head and smiles at me. "Nothing. At least that part doesn't. That stuff you don't have to worry about.. yet." she giggles and the room joins her. "Sorry, a little death humor." She waits until I wave it off with a wary smile before continuing with, "Speaking of Death, that's what we've brought you here for. Melanie, you're a very powerful girl. You're unclouded by discrimination, pride, or prejudice, and you have an unknown purpose to your life."

 "Tell me about it." I sigh, rubbing my eyes. "Okay, sorry, get on with it."

 "Indeed. Do you know who Death is?"

 This question confuses me for a moment, but after thinking about it, I shrug my shoulders. "Death is when someone... stops living. Moves on, kicks the bucket... however you wanna put it." I say. "Or there's the image of Death, which is the Grim Reaper. Some sack of bones in a black cloak carrying a massive scyth and taking peoples' souls."

 Faith and the rest of the room laughs, as if at some inside joke. "Quite. Let's go with the second one. Death is not a what, but a who. Just as well, he's also not a 'sack of bones in a black cloak'." she says with an amused smile. "Death is an entity who works for this council. He's supposed to lead the souls of those who come here to either Heaven or Hell, and occasionally, do them in himself."

 "So you mean to tell me that Death isn't really responsible for killing people?"

 "No, not entirely. It happens sometimes... but not as often as most think." Faith then continues to tell me that Death also doesn't normally hold grudges--unlike how horror movies like Final Destination make it out to be--and his only real job is leading souls either upstairs or down, depending on how they're judged. "However, recently, he's gotten out of hand... and we fear it's our fault."

 I sigh and rub my temples with my eyes closed. The brightness of this room is starting to get to me. "Okay. So even with as many questions as my brain can possibly come up with, and no matter HOW much I believe I'm going crazy and this has to be a stupid dream, I'll humor you. What happened?"

 Faith exudes a deep sigh, gives a glance back at Conviction, and then continues. "You see, several centuries ago, we realized that Death was a little too.. gung-ho about his job. The Bubonic Plague is a good example." After a pause, she continues, "So we, as the Council and with God and Lucifer's agreements, decided to pass what we called The Counter-Death Act. We would find a particularly strong and outstanding soul to act as a sort of anti-Death, to make sure his killings were not uncalled for. We experimented with many of our own members from the Council..." She trails off and looks around at everyone, frowning deeply. "But that's how we lost Voice."

 I snigger a little, but catch myself before I start laughing at how this irony seems to strike me, catching several disapproving eyes from the stands around me. "Sorry." I mutter, knowing this probably wasn't funny to them.

 "We found that it has to be a human soul that has no faith, cannot be led astray by misleadings from beliefs and science, simply because that soul is deeply unsure. You're more inclined to follow your heart and your head rather than a mysterious book of unnecessary rules." Faith says, taking a step towards me. "Melanie, the last soul we had in the Counter-Death Act had to move on. He was becoming... mature. He could no longer continue to visit Limbo or fight Death because he had a life he wanted to live. So we followed you. And now it's your turn."

 "Whoa, whoa, whoa here." I finally interrupt, holding up my hands. I look at Faith seriously for a moment and hold up a single finger now. "You've got to be kidding me. Do you hear yourselves? What about ME?! This has GOT to be a dream!" I growl out, throwing my hands in the air. "I'm unconscious and this is a dream, it's gotta be! Heaven and Hell don't exist. Neither does Death. I'm probably in the hospital, high on pain meds and dreaming."

 "Melanie, have you ever wondered if there was a higher being--or beings--that controlled what you did? Where you went? What about whether or not you actually existed?" Faith pressed, her face appearing sympathetic to my distress.

 I turn on Faith and frown. "No. Life is what it is."

 "And what is life to you?" The energy in the room shifts as everyone looks at Conviction, his tiny, yet wise baby eyes watching me sternly. He's no longer amused. After this question finishes reverberating off the invisible walls, the energy of the room shifts again as everyone looks at me, awaiting my response.

 I stutter a little. I was sure I'd had an answer ready, it was sitting in my throat, but when presented with the chance to voice it, I couldn't. Damn, why did Voice have to die? I finally sigh and shake my head. "Look, even if all of this shit WAS real, do you honestly think I'm your girl?"

 "We're certain of it." Faith says softly with a single nod.

 I watch her, then look around the room at the many familiar faces, my eyes falling on my aunt last. She's watching me in return, her green eyes sad, but her lips smiling in encouragement. There was something they weren't telling me. I snap my gaze back to Faith and my brow furrows in confusion. "Don't I have to do some sort of test first?"

 Faith blinks, her turn to be confused, and she shakes her head. "No, not necessarily. Would you prefer it that way?"

 "No." I answer honestly. "But... what would I do? What would my job be if Death's is to lead souls and take them?"

 A relieved smile graces Faith's features and she puts a hand on my arm. "You will have to stand up to him if you think a soul capture is misguided. Death has the ability to take any form when in the Earth Plane. He can be a disease, a bug, a spirit, or he can even take over someone's body and act on their behalf. An example of this would be like... Elizabeth Bathory. He killed all those girls because of his own misconceptions of their wrong-doings, and then used their deaths as an excuse to execute Elizabeth herself. That's where you step in. You can keep him from doing this again."

 "Yeah, but how?"

 "Fight him, bargain with him.. whatever you must do. I would encourage carrying a weapon with you at all times. Choose a weapon to have with you, and we will keep it hidden from the Livings' eyes. But when you find Death, you must be hidden from the Living as well. Fight him in a secluded place... for battling him in the open would bring serious consequences. You may also be inclined to come back here and fight him in Limbo, in which case, you must kill yourself to do."

 "But wouldn't killing myself over and over again in order to fight Death sort of be... moot?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Not to mention, wouldn't that be hell on my living body?"

 "Yes, so I don't suggest taking that route." Faith chuckles. She rubs my arm and smiles again. "Oh, and to defeat Death, you must completely dismember his head from his body."

 I nod as I listen to this instruction and decide this is a pretty important fact. I mean, I would love to have that knowledge with me when I go against him for real. "How will I know it's him when I see him?"

 "Oh, trust me, you'll know." Faith nods and laughs slightly, along with everyone else. "You'll get a feeling. A very strong one. You'll have no doubt in your mind that it's him. Now that you've been to Limbo and have met every one of us, you have a special connection to all of those who've been in Limbo."

 I open my mouth to ask another question, but fall to my knees instead, a sudden searing pain going through my chest and out of my finger tips and toes. I gasp for breath and look up at Faith for an answer as I'm curling into myself, but she's walking away from me and back to her seat beside Conviction. As she retakes her seat, I'm struck with another wave of pain. "W-what's happening?!" I choke out.

 "They're taking you back. It's time you went back, Mel. We have faith in you. You can do this." Faith tells me once she's settled in her seat, her arms resting on her lap in a relaxed pose. Every one of the Council members are watching me with blank faces, and her voice fades as I'm crippling in pain, melting into the floor like I'm on fire.

 My eyes shoot open wide with a large gasp of air and a hacking cough, as I'm pulled back into reality. Looking around, I notice that I'm surrounded by firefighters, paramedics and cops, all looking down at me as I'm sprawled out on my back. I have a travel-sized defibrilator attached to my bare chest, which would explain the painful shocks to my body, but despite all this, none of it seems to register. I see their mouths moving, hear mumbles and muffled shouts, but none of it makes sense. My eyes feel heavy. Before I know it, I'm being lifted off the cold, wet ground, and on a thick and rock-hard spine board onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. Sirens are blaring around me, which seems to be the only sound that stands out. Well... so much for sneaking out today. There was no way my mom was going to forgive me for this.

*****

 "My baby! Oh, my poor baby!" cries some random woman as her young daughter is wheeled through the emergency doors and into the emergency room, her mother trailing the gurney with sobs. I'm going down a separate hallway in my bed, watching the chaos that just seems to vanish completely when I reach my room. Overall, I have to admit that staying in a hospital isn't so bad. Everything is bleach-white--even moreso than the hotel tub, which in itself was pretty bad--and it's loud in the halls. My bed is stiff and my pillows make crackling noises whenever I shift because they're covered in plastic beneath the pillow cover, and the food is unbearably plain, but aside from all that coupled with the annoying tube stuck in my arm, I actually like it here. I get to sleep in on my vacation for once, not worried about going out to the plantation because I have three broken ribs, a broken arm and a fractured phemur, along with all manner of cuts, scrapes, and road rash. My face was swollen like orange pulp when I arrived, but it's gone down some now. I've been in the hospital a total of three days. Three days of my vacation have been spent relaxing, watching television that actually has cable, getting high on pain medication, and being fussed over by my doctor, my mother and Jared, and any nurse who comes into the room. Life is good.

 Unfortunately I don't get a room to myself. There's an older gentleman in the bed beside mine, and his bed is closest to the door, which I'm somewhat thankful for. I get to look out and down at the streets below my second-story window, while he gets to listen to machines, shouts, and sirens, which probably isn't that big of a deal anyway because he has hearing problems. Mostly he just stares ahead at the opposite wall with a grim look on his face, his arms at his sides and his body stiff. Occasionally he'll watch the television with me, but then something always happens that gets him depressed and he yells at me to turn it off so he can nap. He takes a lot of naps. I don't complain because I have my handheld game and my sketchbook, along with my ipod and several books that Jared brought for me when they first visited me. They skipped out on the plantation to come visit me.

 As I had guessed, my mother wasn't all too happy about how I'd snuck out of the room after playing sick. But she had been so scared for my life that she didn't even yell at me. She just hugged me and kissed me a lot, and she cried far more than I did. It was probably the most love she'd shown me since she got pregnant. Actually, I was kinda worried that my being hit by a car would send her into labor, and thank God it didn't. Jared insisted on having one of them stay with me at all times, but I refused. I told them they had to keep enjoying their vacation and could visit me at night before visiting hours ended. Anything to get some time to myself. Luckily, my mother agreed, mostly because hospitals gave her the willies, and Jared agreed because he had to watch Alex. There was no telling what might happen if he left a hyper-active five-year-old in a room with a hormonal rollercoaster of a pregnant woman. I told him I understood, and I do, but they ended up staying the rest of the day with me anyway. Which was fine... I probably would have been crying like a snot-nosed baby if I'd been in the hospital by myself for too long. I had to admit, when I was admitted, I was starting to miss my mom. I had needed someone to stand there and tell me to suck it up, and their presence helped me forget that strange dream about being the Anti-Death.

 Now the sun is starting to go down on the third day of my being in the hospital, and I'm playing my handheld while my bedmate--Mr. Richard Joneson is his name--is taking another one of his infamous naps, his back turned to me. Everything in the hospital seems to get eerily quiet, and it doesn't happen at once. It sort of creeps up on me, and I have to pause my game, lifting my head to look around. Machines. There's no machines beeping. No shouts. No sirens. Nothing. I tilt my head with a frown and slowly set my game aside, then pause again as if that simple action had made a difference. It hadn't. I push my sheets off my legs and very cautiously grab for my powerchair, making sure my IV pole is secured to it like the nurse taught me. I slide into the chair from my bed, make myself comfortable, and then buzz my way to Mr. Joneson's bed. I stop at his feet and look at him. He's still sleeping... but his chest isn't moving. If anything, he looks like he's frozen in time. I put a hand on his foot, and even through his sheets, I can feel him cold as ice. Is he dead? Uh-oh... dead. Death. Death was probably around. Was this what they were talking about when they said I'd get a feeling?

 I zip my way out into the hallway at a snail's pace, looking both ways down the halls when I get to my doorway. There's no one in sight. Nurses aren't running around like chickens with their heads cut off and doctor's aren't shouting orders. The hospital operator's voice wasn't booming over the intercom and I still don't hear any machines or sirens. The hall is absolutely silent. The entire hospital is. Just as I'm looking to my right down the hall towards the nurse's station, I see a figure move and I squint, trying to see them better. It's an elderly woman, shuffling across the floor. I had seen her earlier that morning, and she usually needed a walker to get around. "Hey!" I call out, wincing at the pain it caused my ribs just to bark that one word. I position my powerchair and start off down the hall, a bit faster this time. "Hey! Miss!"

 She doesn't answer me. She looks my way, but her eyes are... empty. They're pale, cloudy and blank like she's blind. She smiles at me, waves, and her mouth moves, but no words come out. She then goes back to shuffling towards a room that says, Supply Closet. Hospital Employees Only. One would think that door would be locked, but the old bag manages to open it with no problems.

 "H-hey! I don't think you can go in there!" I shout, but she doesn't listen. The door closes and she's gone. I growl and my chair buzzes with strain as I try to make it go faster, rolling up to the door and grabbing the handle. It's locked. "Hey! Open this door!" I jiggle the handle, but it doesn't budge. I look around, looking for someone to help me, but the place is absolutely empty, and my screams just go unheard. A sudden and unnerving chill runs along my spine and I shoot uneasy glances around the room again. Still no one. "H-hello..? Faith?" I call, hoping it's her. "This isn't funny!"

 "No, of course not."

 The voice startles me beyond recognition. I gasp and jump in my seat, my eyes shooting to the voice's owner. It's Mr. Joneson. He's standing right behind me, his own eyes blank, just like the elderly woman's. "Who are you?" I ask, very certain that this isn't the crabby bedmate of mine.

 "I am Death." he says slowly, his voice cracking between two different octaves. "I thought this would be a fitting... greeting."

 I slowly reach for the joystick on my chair and swivel it around to better face him, blocking his way to the door. Inside, my head is swirling. I had been certain that it was all a dream caused by the brain trauma from the car accident, and that none of it had been real, but even so, there is no way he'll get that woman, not while I'm here. "A greeting?" It's difficult to keep my voice from shaking when I speak to him. "How did you hear... I was the new Anti-death?"

 "It's not hard to get information from the Council."

 I gape at him. "I swear to God, if you hurt any of them-!"

 Mr. Joneson lets out a hacking laugh, throwing his head back and slapping his knee. He looked like an old coot who'd just heard the funniest joke in his life. "Hurt them? You're still just a child, aren't you? You're getting into things that you cannot possibly comprehend! I still cannot believe they got someone so young for this job!" he prodded, shaking his head.

 "I-I'm not a child!" I insist as sternly as I can muster. But it only comes out in a squeak of a voice and I'm suddenly blushing and feeling like a bug in front of his old coot that was currently possessed by Death himself. "Anyway, what are you doing in Mr. Joneson's body? Why don't you show me your true form?"

 "Because I do not wish nightmares on you. Yet." He leans closer to me, until our faces are only inches apart, and for a second I think he's going to kiss me, but he doesn't. His blind eyes just stare straight ahead through mine and he looks as if he's smelling something foul, his nose wrinkling at he bridge. "You're powerful, they were right about that. But you're also inexperienced. You have much more to learn if you ever wish to make a difference. I have been doing this job for a millenia, and you will not be any competition for me."

 I glare at him and try to straighten up in my chair. "Then why don't you just kill me now and get it over with?"

 Mr. Joneson laughs again and steps back. "Because it isn't your time now. It's hers." He points at the door and takes another step forward, but when I try to push him back, he simply fazes through me and I get another chill up my spine. He disappears through the door and into the room, there's some mumblings inside and the woman starts to sob.

 "NO!" I scream and swivel my chair back towards the door. I bang on it with my one good arm and kick at it with my one good leg, growling through clentched teeth. "No, dammit! Death, get out here and fight me!" I continue to scream and bang on the door until a nurse very suddenly pulls me from it.

 "Dear, what are you doing out of bed?! How did you get here?" she asks urgently and turns me back to take me back to my room. I hadn't noticed it when the machines started back up again, along with the sirens and shouts. Somehow, I'd made it out of my room without anyone noticing, and Mr. Joneson was the one to notice I wasn't in bed. Even when I had been right beside the nurse's station, no one had spotted me because sitting in my wheelchair had placed me at just below the height of the counter.

 I struggle in my chair and casts to look back at the door, almost panicking. "No! Wait! There's a woman in there! She got locked in!" I try to explain to the nurse, but know that if I go too far, they'd probably lock me in a padded room.

 "What are you talking about, sweety?" The nurse kindly asks. She pauses in pushing my chair, giving me a quizzical look, then turns back to the door and puts a hand on her hip. She moves to the door, pulls out the proper key to unlock it, and opens the door as wide as it will go. The inside has shelf after shelf of supplies and equipment, but other than that is empty. "I don't see any woman in here, Miss Prochette." she said and closed the door again. She walked back to me with her shoes squeaking on the floor and began pushing me back to my room. I, all the while, am speechless. "You were probably just dreaming, honey. But I do wonder how you got out of bed and all the way down the hall without attracting attention to yourself. You're a sneaky one!" she giggles.

 I stare at the linoleum floors as they pass under my feet and chair, watching clumps of dirt, hair, spills of liquid... everything that may be considered a landmark to an insect disappears under my mighty wheelchair like a speck. I feel large... but small at the same time. It's a confusing feeling. When we get back into my room, Mr. Joneson is sitting upright in his bed, watching the doorway--and eventually me--with concern. I gaze at him with the same expression. He was just up and walking... he trapped that woman in the room, he took her soul... I saw him! I swear I'm not crazy, but I have to keep telling myself that because the less I do, the more I believe I am. The nurse helps me back into bed and situates my bedside desk over me, making sure the head of my bed is up comfortably and my pillows are fluffed. When she asks me if I need anything else, I shake my head, unable to find the words to tell her to go fuck herself, and grab for my sketchbook. Very uneasily, I grip my pencil and produce a shakey, albeit accurate image of the woman I saw walking into the closet. I showed it to Mr. Joneson after it was finished, long after the nurse had left and the sun was down, and whispered out, "Who is this?"

 Mr. Joneson squints at the picture across the distances between our beds, not really able to see the details thanks to the dim flourescent lights of our room, but he eventually gapes at me. "That's Molly Champson. She was in the room two doors down... but she died the day before you got here. How did you know what she looked like..?"

 "I saw her, Mr. Joneson... I saw her walking that hall and go into that supply closet." I say softly, turning my sketchbook back to myself and frowning down at it. I stroked my finger along the lines of her face and watched them blur under the friction, the graphite from my pencil smearing on my finger and the page, causing an unnatural shadow over her cheek. "But she's not here anymore. Death came and got her."

 I can feel Mr. Joneson staring at me in horror all night long--even in my sleep. It makes me uncomfortable, but at the same time, I knew that would be his reaction to begin with. I shouldn't have said anything. I was crazy to think anyone would believe me, but I figured that if Mr. Joneson did try to tell anyone, I could deny it and they'd just call him senile, coupled with the precarious action of upping his meds. By the time the sun is up, I hear him shuffling to get up and go to the bathroom, keep my eyes closed as that light came on, and wait until I hear the door close before opening them again. My sketch of Miss Molly Champson is watching me off that page, grinning like she did before, like she's laughing at me. She knew something then that I didn't before, but I know now: Death watches me.



Chapter Three: Take a Chill Pill

 For some odd reason, Death didn't make any more appearences in the hospital for another three weeks. Which, I suppose, says something good about that hospital. After meeting Death for the first time, I had been... different. I felt different. I didn't mean to, but I think I acted different too. My mother, Jared and Alex didn't have as much fun when they visited me at the hospital, but as the day neared when I would be discharged, they seemed to be spacing out their visits a little more and more. That suits me just fine. At this point, not even my handheld and sketchbook occupy me. I just find myself staring out of windows or at the floor a lot, like they're so interesting, and I hadn't been eating well since my first run-in with Death. Actually, I managed to lose about fifteen pounds over the last month. Not even Mr. Joneson says anything to me now. Not after what I'd told him that night three weeks ago about Miss Molly Champson, and I don't blame him.

 I caught myself staring off blankly into space even as I was wheeled into the doctor's office-slash-examination room where my family was waiting for me. It had been a long summer vacation and we are all excited to get home. It's only when I'm sitting in front of everyone and the doctor reaches to put his stethoscope on my ribs that I jump from my daze and blink, looking around the room. My mother and Jared both frown at me in confusion, but Alex seems just as innocently uncaring as always. Lucky kid. I look up at the doctor next and feel my brow furrow at him in confusion.

 "Well, her breathing sounds normal. Heart rate is good.." The doctor mutters this as he retracts his cold stethoscope from under my hospital gown. "We took x-rays of her arm and leg recently and they seem to be holding up well enough. She can go home, but she has to keep her casts on for another three weeks or so." he explained to my mother and Jared. He wrote out a prescription--for some sort of pain medication is my guess--and gives my family a fake smile. "We'll give you a wheelchair to take home as well. Just be sure to take her back to your local hospital and follow up with her treatments, we'll fax all of the information when you do."

 "Thanks much, Doc." Jared says softly, shaking the doctor's hand firmly and he looks at me with a relieved and sympathetic smile. "Ready to go home, sport?" he whispers, patting my shoulder lightly. "Bet you can't wait to get away from this place."

 "You got that right." I mutter back to him and frown at the floor. Plymouth had been worse this time around than usual, and that was saying something pretty big. I adjust myself in my wheelchair as best I can as Jared takes the handles and turns me back towards the door, a sigh of relief escaping my lips. It feels so good to be heading for the exit, finally.

 "Gods, Mel, you look so... thin!" My mom manages to squeal into my ear as we head outside, her hand wrapped around Alex's to keep him from wandering off down a hospital corridor. "You've lost so much weight since you got here!"

 "Yeah, well, the food here isn't much better than trying to chew my handheld." I groan, rubbing my eyes. Sleep had come hard lately. So had any drawing inspiration, appetite, or... well.. any proper cognitive functioning. I was sure the docs would start force feeding me psych meds. "Don't get too excited, ma. I really doubt losing fifteen pounds will get me into the popularity club at school."

 My mother frowns and shakes her head, opening her mouth to say something, but she stops and just shuts her mouth again. I wonder if I'd hurt her feelings, but it doesn't stay lodged in my brain for long. She and Alex head to the front desk to finish my paperwork and Jared leaves me by the front door so he can help the discharge team load my stuff into the minivan.

 As Jared leaves my side, I take one last glance around the hospital. Somehow, I feel like it may be remotely possible I may miss this place. Summer was almost over now and by the time I'd be walking again, it'd be walking around a large high school campus, one that was way too familiar. I'm happy I'll get to see my friends again, that's for sure. Summer vacation was way too lonely when it was spent in a hectic hospital while your friends are at Seaworld. I study the hallways as they buzz with people, ignoring them all when my eyes fell on a face that had become somewhat like family over the last month.

 Mr. Joneson is watching me, standing weakly at the end of the hall with his hand wrapped around his IV roller pole, his knees slightly bent because he's aged and knock-kneed, and his eyes seem... troubled. He's frowning at me. He's watching me leave, and my knowing this sends chills up my spine. Then I realize it's not the reason I got the chills. Time seems to stop again as a dark figure looms behind Mr. Joneson and puts a boney, dead hand on his shoulder. My eyes widen and I open my mouth to shout, but no words come out, no sounds whatsoever. An evil, jagged-toothed grin shines from the dark figure behind Mr. Joneson, who's now moving in slow motion as he turns around and heads back down the hall to his room, the dark figure seeming to lead him there.

 My heart is racing. I'm still watching them vanish around the corner as time seems to return to normal again. That's when my voice comes back to me and I realize I'm actually screaming, leaning in my chair towards the hallway. "NO! SOMEONE HELP HIM! HELP MR. JONESON!" I scream at the top of my lungs, pointing back down the hallway. "PLEASE!" The nurses all look up at me, and my mom and Jared are at my sides, trying to ask me what's wrong, what happened to me to suddenly make me freak out, but I just repeat myself over and over again until a few nurses finally indulge me and head to check on Mr. Joneson.

 Within seconds, a red light comes on above the door and a whailing siren sounds down the corridor, a nurse shouting from the doorway, "GET THE CRASH CART! HE'S GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST!" Several more doctors and nurses head to the room, pulling cart covered in colourful and interesting resuscitation items on the way.

  I watch in horror, along with my parents, and Jared has to finally pull away and take Alex outside because the siren is scaring him into sobs. My mom stays by my side, holding my good hand tightly, biting her lip and subconsciously rubbing her belly with nervousness. We're both anxious... waiting is torture. Finally, after several minutes, the sirens turn off and the hall is quiet. A gurney is wheeled into the room and we wait another five minutes before it's pulled back out. Mr. Joneson is on it, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, and his eyes squinting in pain. I sigh in relief, as does my mother. "Wow.. Mel... You just saved him. How did you know something was wrong with him though?" my mom asks me softly as we see Mr. Joneson wheeled down to intensive care.

 I shrug and swallow thickly, coughing out a weak response, "He... wasn't feeling right earlier today. I.. I just wanted to make sure he'd get taken care of." I lie. I can't tell my mom that I see Death. It would freak her the hell out right into labor. "Mom... just... take me home. Please." I try not to let my voice shake, but it does, and it's because I'm on the brink of tears. I intervened and saved Richard Joneson his life for another night at least... but I don't want to be here when Death comes back and try again. It was hard to believe that all my screaming had helped save Mr. Joneson when the Council told me it would take a lot more than that. Something didn't feel right. Maybe it had been a distraction for Death's real deed? Or maybe Death was just taunting me? I didn't want to know. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and squeeze my mom's hand tighter. "Let's go."

 My mom slowly nods and lets go of my hand so she can wheel me out of the building. Another siren goes off somewhere in the hospital as we're going out the door and we both flinch. I understand now why my mom hates hospitals so much.

 When we get outside after all the paperwork is finished, Jared is leaning against the loaded minivan with Alex in his arms and Alex looks tired, red around his eyes from crying, and sucking on his thumb. They both watch us come over and my mom has to give a fake smile. "It's okay. They got to him in time, everything is fine now." she explains and Jared seems to relax just a little more. Jared goes to put Alex in his carseat and my mom wheels me to the right side of the car, opening the door and looking from the car seat to the wheelchair with a bit of a lost expression on her face.

 "Ma, I got it." I finally whisper and laugh a little. I'd done this in physical therapy plenty of times in practice for when I'd get to go home, with the help of a wooden car replica in the therapy room. I position my wheelchair, lock my brakes and grab a hold of the handle on the inside of the minivan door, hoisting myself up with my one good arm and my one good leg, and then pulling myself up into the seat the same way. I smile at my mother and she smiles back at me almost proudly as she shuts the door. I watch her fold my cheelchair away and she walks to the back of the car to shove it in the back with everything else, and I lock my seatbelt. Time for another long drive back home. But I feel like this drive home won't be as big of a pain in the ass. I'm tired.. Like I'd said, sleep hadn't come easy during my stay at the hospital. Maybe during this trip home, I can finally get some rest. I wait until Jared and my mom are in their seats before I grab a pillow and position it under my head, then grab a second one and stuff it under my casted arm, getting comfortable as I lay down and close my eyes, stuffing my earphones in my ears. But I don't blast Distasteful like normal.. instead I keep the volume low, playing a song mix full of slow, sad ballads and plenty of Beethoven. My soothing mix. Within minutes, I can feel myself drifting to sleep.

*****

 My dreams are odd now. I mean, they were odd to begin with, but ever since I left the hospital, ever since I got hit by that truck and first ran into Faith and Conviction and the other Council members, my dreams have been something out of an old Hitchcock horror film. I see images of Death in my head... reaching for me as other things around me die. My friends, my family, everything. Flowers wilt and turn to crinkly bits of paper, stone dulls and cracks, animals run with shrieks and hisses. A boney hand reaches out of a black cloak towards me, a dark face with bright orbs for eyes grinning at me with bright white teeth, giving it the mental assumption of a skull in that hood. The only way to keep it from taking my life along with everything else is to close my eyes tightly and cower. But I don't cower. I stand up and fight.

 When I open my eyes every morning, I have a renewed sense of deja vu and nostalgia. I don't even have to leave bed to get a headache, but I force myself up anyways. My arm and leg are doing much better now and there's only one week left until school, not to mention my friends are all coming back from Seaworld tomorrow. I've been home from the hospital in Plymouth for two weeks now and have been walking on the treadmill every morning since, working my leg and arm and practicing with crutches. I also do sit-ups, which as it turns out, are much harder to do when you have one casted leg and arm. I gotta say, I'm not as disappointed when I look in the mirror nowadays. My face seems thinner, as does my stomach and hips. My boobs, however, stayed big, if not gotten bigger. My red hair had gotten longer too, so I looked... mature. I was excited to go back to highschool for my senior year looking like an actual senior.

 Today, after my run on the treadmill and a good breakfast, I find a note on my mom's door that says,

 Dear Mel,
Jared and I went shopping today. We have to buy some more stuff for the baby and we're low on cereal. Alex is with us so you can relax some. Try to have a good day. We love you.

 I sigh a little in relief and smile at the letter, then stuff it in the trash as I head to the couch and flop down onto it, turning on the television. There's nothing like sitting around and doing nothing. One of my favorite shows is on, but it's interrupted only fifteen minutes in by a news alert.

 "This is Michelle Justice with channel twenty-one news and we have a situation. It seems that the Hotel De Fanteek on fifth street has just burst into flames! Police are evacuating the nearby areas and the fire department is on the scene. Here's Chet Unger with the on-location report." the screen blares.

 I frown as I watch, getting a sudden chill up my spine. I have to sit up and lean closer to the television as some guy with a microphone fills the screen and I pay attention only to the background. There's something strangely unsettling about it... I squint my eyes to see better, than a gasp escapes me. A man in a dark hoodie is running from the building, but there's just... something about his face. Something sinister, as if he's smiling, and there are people following him that I know the passing firemen can't see. He's leading souls. I swallow thickly and growl. "That bastard!" I snap at the screen and shut it off with a pounding fist against the power button. I stand weakly, grimacing at the pain that shoots up my leg, and limp towards the door, grabbing my car keys off the table as I go. "There's no way that son of a bitch is taking any of those people." I can't help but grumble. I lock my front door as I step out, closing it firmly behind me, and ignoring my crutches which are staring at me in my passenger seat as I climb into my car. Nothing but the sound of screeching tires fills my ears as I roar out of the driveway and head down the street, going straight for fifth. How could I miss it? There was a giant plum of smoke rising from it.



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