Short Story: Downtown

by Brett McKay

(Drawing by Mason McKay)

Zane stepped into the crowded living room and stood next to two men in white suits. Jenkins was a tall, broad shouldered man, and his partner, Dallas, was shorter. Men and women packed the small house. Most of them appeared to be between twenty and twenty-five years of age. Music boomed from the stereo and several people danced and bobbed their heads to the hip-hop sounds. They drank from red, plastic cups, and one woman danced so fervently, liquid splashed from her cup. A couple were intertwined on the couch, attached at the lips. The handle of a gun protruded from the back of the man’s pants. 

“How’s Downtown?” Jenkins asked.

“Busy,” Zane answered. “I didn’t expect to see you guys here.”

Jenkins nodded to a dancing young couple. “We’re here for them. They don’t belong.”

“Does anyone?” Zane said.

One of Zane’s comrades leaned against the wall on the far side of the room. He was dressed in a black suit like Zane’s, and his silver tie shined. His name was Bill, but most called him Bulldog. He stayed distant, didn’t talk much, and was a fierce Reaper.

The doorbell rang. It was hard to hear over the noise of the party, and it took several rings and poundings at the door before someone stepped forward and opened it. The barrel of a shotgun poked through. The guy who answered the door had no time to react. His head snapped back as a gunshot cracked the night, and blood painted the wall. The shooter entered the house. The pair Jenkins had identified turned to the gunman with shocked faces. The killer’s eyes locked on them, and he fired, pumped the shotgun, and fired again. The couple flew back off their feet.

The man on the couch pulled his weapon and shot. Screams overpowered the music as people scrambled for cover. A bullet hit the killer’s shoulder, and he turned and bolted out the door.

A spray of automatic gunfire erupted from outside and shattered the front room window, piercing the surrounding walls, busting a lamp, and destroying the stereo, killing the music. Three people toppled like dolls in a carnival shooting gallery. Zane had his eyes on a woman in front of him. Before the intruder, she’d been talking to another girl. She’d craned her head back laughing at whatever had been said. She looked to be so full of life and vigor. Her name was Allison and she was only twenty-two. She landed flat on her back and blood spread across her chest.

The gunshots ceased. An engine roared and tires squealed. Three armed men raced out the front door and fired back, while a fourth shot at the speeding car from the broken window.

The young couple who’d been dancing were standing over their own bodies, their faces twisted in horror and confusion. Their human shells lay in twisted forms on the floor, blood blossoming through torn holes in their clothes. Jenkins and Dallas motioned for them to approach.

“Come. It’s okay,” Jenkins said softly, and the couple turned to them. “Your family is waiting for you.”

The man walked to him hesitantly, then his eyes widened as light illuminated him. “Mom,” he exclaimed and disappeared into the light. The woman followed Dallas into the light, but said nothing.

Bulldog watched as the soul of his target exited his dead body. He was the first victim at the door. The man’s dark complexion turned a shade of white as he looked at his corpse and its mangled face, and then his eyes lifted to see Bulldog. Tears ran from his eyes, his lips trembled, and he turned to run from Bulldog.

If the spirit got away, he would become a ghost to roam the earth, and Bulldog would be reprimanded. But Bulldog was quick as lightning. He snatched the soul back with one hand, lifted him off his feet as if he weighed the same as a stick, and threw him down a dark hole that that opened in the floor. Bulldog hopped into the hole after him.

The other two people who were shot did not suffer mortal wounds. A man had been shot in the leg, and Allison’s friend nursed an arm wound. She looked at Allison’s motionless form and let out a whaling cry that shook the room.

Zane turned to Allison, who was weeping over her body. She stepped forward placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder, but her hand passed straight through. Her friend couldn’t see Allison anymore than she could see Zane or the other Reapers.

“Allison,” Zane said, and she looked at him. “It’s time.” Zane stepped forward and a hole opened at the touch of his toe. Allison stared into its swirling depths that seemed to have no bottom.

“Where are they going?” She gestured to where Jenkins and Dallas had disappeared.

“Uptown.”

“Why can’t I go with them?” she asked.

“Maybe one day you can.”

She looked at the dark hole where she had to go. “Is it bad?”

“It depends,” Zane said.

“I’m scared,” she said, and her body shook.

“I know. I will be with you.” He stretched out a hand.

She wiped her tears and took his hand. Together they left the violence of the world and disappeared into the void.