Don't Fear The Reaper (14 page)

I know you’ll remember how I told you my dream of the darkest of
figures. Something not of this world. Perhaps supernatural. Stronger than any
other living creature. Indestructible. I told you about when it made a motion
and drew the razor sharp scythe across its abdomen. I knew then that my
pregnancy meant more than I first realised it to be.

My pregnancy was a miracle. Of that I am one hundred percent certain.
But the miracle birth of my one and only child wasn’t a gift to me. It was a gift
to the world. A child even more special than any other born into the world. The
child was neither mine nor Larry’s. This – if I am right and the child survives
the birth – is a child of God’s.

There are far more mysteries than the human mind could ever imagine,
but none so prominent than the mystery of Good versus Evil.

A child was born on 6 June this year – 2006. That child will grow in
an underground lair with many of the world’s hierarchy members. This is the
child of pure, unadulterated evil. The child will, like all male children, grow
into a man. And not just any man. But a man that’ll make other evil men such as
Richard Ramirez, Ted Bundy and Jeffery Dahmer look like saints in comparison.

But if my son (I decided to find out the sex before the birth), if he
survives, will be the light. He will need protection and shelter. I am
delighted that you and your friend managed to discover the bunker beneath the
church you preach at on the property of your home, as I told you. It is you who
must protect Sapphire from harm. You must nurture him and raise him as if he
were your own blood.

The Reaper and its followers are eager for the apocalypse. The Reaper
wants to reap the souls of the soon-to-be-dead and needs the evil one to aid it
in accomplishing this feat. Men of extraordinary powers, under the influence of
the Reaper will come to keep the world buried in the deepest depths of eternal
darkness.

God spoke to me. I don’t mean literally. And I am writing my sixth
draft of this letter, so I am not deluded or acting upon a hunch. God or
something has communicated with me to pass on this message before my untimely
death (it is really weird to know how and when I am going to die. I ought to be
frightened to death, but I am actually quite calm). God, or whoever or whatever,
has told me that my unborn child has been chosen as the one to give hope to
those left behind and to lift the spirits of good people who fear the Reaper.

Sapphire is our only last hope. He is the light that’ll forever
outshine the evil darkness.

Please take care of him. Prepare vigilantly for the worst. Expect the
worst. Because when the End of Days is upon you it’ll be far worse than any
vision or nightmare you’ve ever had. Worse than my own.

The future is not predetermined. You must find the courage and
strength to be stronger than you’ve ever been before. You must never give in to
your fears or the darkness. You must raise Sapphire with those beliefs from
your heart if he is to have any chance of being the world’s salvation. You and
Sapphire must survive otherwise all that is good in the world and those who’ve
left their mark shall not even be a distant memory. You must survive or we shall
not even exist.

Know that I love you. And if you accept true love anything is
possible, even the things people consider the impossible.

You must act in haste and with care.

You must! I’m counting on you.

Love Nadine xxx
.

Anthony read the letter twice, scarcely believing the foresight Nadine
had been bestowed and the imperative pleas and demands for him to forget about
her and his own pain and to do something greater than himself. To do something
that required full selflessness. Something magnanimous.

The words full of meaning and love and passion were his sister’s, and yet
the incredulity of the message drowned him in silence.

‘As I said, it’s got nothing to do with me, but is everything all right?’
Jennings said, breaking Anthony’s reverie.

Anthony folded the letter up and faced the doctor, bemused. ‘Did my
sister’s baby survive?’

Jennings smiled broadly. ‘Yes.’

‘I am all he’s got in the world. Take me to him, please?’

Jennings put an arm around Anthony’s back and together they rose and
headed to the cot where Nadine’s baby slept.

*

A
young female nurse with freckles sat in the room where Nadine should have been
resting after giving birth. Anthony deduced that she could be no older than
thirty if that. She looked rather shaken and exhausted. Yet her gorgeous green
eyes gave her the appearance of an angel.

Jennings sidled past Anthony and gestured to the cot where a red-faced
dark-haired baby lay asleep, face scrunched up and hands balled into fists.
‘This is your nephew,’ he said, proud.

‘And Godson,’ Anthony added.

The nurse, who still hadn’t spoken, got up out of her chair.

‘No. It’s okay Angela. You don’t have to leave,’ Jennings said. Then he
glanced at Anthony. ‘Does she?’

Anthony shook his head. ‘Is Angela the only other member of staff present
who helped Nadine give birth?’

Jennings nodded. ‘’Fraid so.’

Anthony proffered his hand for Angela to take. She glanced furtively to
Jennings as if for approval, then shook hands. ‘On behalf of my sister I’d like
to take this opportunity to thank you both for this miracle,’ he said, pointing
to the sleeping baby. ‘You did great, all things considered. I guess I ought to
be grateful for that much at least.’

Neither Angela nor Jennings smiled. Instead Angela said, ‘I’m sorry for
your loss.’

‘Thank you.’ Anthony puffed out the air from his cheeks. He force a grin,
bearing the death of Nadine and trying to be positive. ‘Listen, I could do with
getting access to the baby store. I’ll need some more clothes and a cot. Also,
some advice or baby food to assist me to raise Sapphire would be greatly
appreciated.’

Jennings’ lips curled into a smile induced by surprise more than anything
else. ‘That’s the baby’s name?’

Anthony told them both that it was the name Nadine gave her son if he
survived the complications during labour.

‘That’s a very nice name,’ Angela said.

‘Very unusual too,’ Jennings added in approval.

‘I agree with you both. I just wonder where she got it from.’ He sighed.
Then added: ‘I guess we’ll never know, huh? One of life’s many mysteries.’

Jennings and Angela exchanged a glance. Then Jennings said, ‘I could give
you a booklet about newborn babies. But a lot of it is basic, common sense
things. And although we don’t know where the keys to the baby store are, you
have our permission to break the glass and go and get what you want. Or you
could stay here with us?’

Anthony raised an eyebrow. ‘You two are staying here?’

They nodded in unison.

‘We’re going to take refuge in the mortuary in the basement floor,’
Jennings said. ‘Who knows, we might survive if it’s not as bad as people
predict.’

‘I got a safe place,’ Anthony said. ‘At least I’m hoping it’s safe. It’s
back home in Wales. I need to gather all the essentials I can though before
it’s too late.’

Angela swept the strand of hair that had dropped into her eyes. ‘Why
don’t you go and load your car up with baby stuff from the store and we can
give you a couple of oxygen tanks to take with you. How’s that sound?’

Anthony regarded them both, serious. ‘You do that for me on top of what
you’ve already done? If we all survive I want you to know I’ll be forever in
your debt.’

‘Better make sure you and the little one survive then,’ Jennings said,
winking at him.

And they all laughed.     

NATALIE HAYES
came to, her face throbbing with a dull ache. She blinked away the temptation
to return to her unconscious state and peeled her face off the steering wheel.
Daylight surrounded her. She couldn’t have been out for long. And although in
her current state what had befallen her husband in Tesco was distant, it would
soon draw nearer the more she became alert.

Bone-weary and dizzy, Natalie yanked the handle and slid out of the
driver’s seat and buckled at the knees. The door kept her vertical. She knew
what had to be done in spite of the realisation that on this very day – 25
December – she’d become a widow and had the misfortune of witnessing her late
husband’s cruel death.

It was ironic, she thought, that after all the work in Jesus’ name that
her husband the bishop should die on the day Christ was born. In spite of
frosty chill freezing her exposed flesh, Natalie’s innards boiled as though
she’d been lying on top of a radiator for hours. She knew what was expected of
her, even now when her world had crumbled into shards in front of her. First of
all she had to place all the gruesome images of what had transpired at the
superstore aside and unload the contents from the back of the transit into the
bunker.

She was glad to having something productive to do and keep her mind busy.
Also, Natalie was aware that what they’d got from Tesco wasn’t enough. If
Anthony was returning with his sister and her baby she’d also have to loot a
lot of baby supplies. In the Bible, stealing was not only unlawful but a sin as
well. At this moment in time though as far as rules and structure went there
were no rules. As far as committing a sin, God, Jesus and all the spiel in the
Holy Bible and she’d learned in Church could fuck right off.

Natalie was a mouse.

The man with the gun was far more frightening and dangerous than a cat
was to a mouse. Nevertheless, Natalie had to summon the fortitude to now
venture out on her own and obtain more provisions. That was the only way she
had any hope of survival. Standing around the church feeling self-pity and
asking God to help was as her husband said “as useful as chasing Mars bar
wrappers in a tornado”.

The world was a big, mean vicious place to live. Life was crueller than
anyone or anything else. No one or nothing could outdo life. But it wasn’t
about being stronger or smarter than life. It was about taking everything bad
that life threw at you, no matter how much or how bad, and keep resisting the
urge to give in. That’s what losers and quitters did. When something was hard
to do the losers and quitters of the world threw their arms up in the air in
disdain. The winners were the ones who persevered when times were their most
difficult. They took the pain. They took the failure and kept their heads down
and their feet moving forward. That’s what Natalie had to do now. She had to
keep moving forward. Keep focusing on what she wanted to accomplish more than
anything else. She could do all her crying and mourning for John later.

And if she died anyway? At least she could put her hand on her heart and
say, ‘I never gave in. I didn’t give life the satisfaction of it brining me to
my knees. I didn’t lose my integrity.’

With that unwavering thought buzzing through her mind, creating an
adrenaline charge inside her, Natalie got behind the wheel of the transit and
headed for the next superstore. She was determined now more than ever. It’s
what John would have wanted. No, scratch that. It’s what John would have
expected of her.

Natalie drove to her intended destination with the courage of a soldier.

*

Vince
Lawton heard the white stallion snorting and shuffling its hoofed feet. Then,
seconds later the sound of the trunk at the rear of the carriage being lifted
open and something hollow clattering other hard objects.

Trepidation had become Vince’s closest acquaintance in the ten minutes or
so he’d been seated on the velvety cushion bench in the rickety old carriage.
The noises from directly behind him increased this emotion to the point where
he either passed out or abated the terror piercing his mind and body once and
for all.

Deciding on the latter, especially as he still had his assault rifle
pinned to his ribcage, Vince pivoted on the bench and with trembling fingers
parted the dark-purple drapes that offered the rear window and gazed out.

What he saw did not abate the terror inflicting him but augmented it to a
plateau he never knew existed. This was worse than anything else. And he’d just
killed close to fifty citizens in cold blood. This was the terror he read about
in those EC comics when he’d been a boy and then gone straight to bed after
lights out.

Beyond the window the Reaper had lifted the lid of the trunk and was
tossing the decapitated heads of Vince’s victims atop the pile of fleshless
skulls. The head of one rolled and its cavernous eyes met Vince’s gaze.

A cry of undeniable horror escaped him before he could do anything to
prevent it.

The Reaper raised its head and stared at him. Its eyes, like two
taillights glowing, burned with fury. Vince snapped his head around and
pretended he hadn’t seen the Reaper staring at him. The image of its skull and
the impossibly wide grin sneered at him with malevolence in his retinas.

Clunk!
Pause.
Clunk!
The sound of heads still wearing their
horrified expressions bouncing off the fleshless skulls gave him Goosebumps.
Vice kicked the side of the carriage. Thanks to his curiosity his fear had
tripled. Yet how dare he complain. He was a mass murderer.

The carriage door was wrenched open by the tall, broad figure. Vince’s
muscles flexed. His Adam’s apple did a vertical dance in his throat. He watched
with alarm as the figure lowered itself next to him on the bench, pushing up
against the carriage due to its monstrous size. It didn’t glance at Vince.
Instead it knocked the bottom of the long-handle scythe against the carriage
floor. Immediately the white stallion moved forward and the carriage lurched
before settling into the steady rhythm.

The silence was overbearing in such a confined space.

‘Just collecting some souvenirs, is it?’ Vince said, scarcely recognising
his voice.

The Reaper didn’t respond verbally.

Perhaps it couldn’t, Vince thought. I mean how could it? It didn’t even
have a tongue. Hence why the Reaper had pointed to the entrance indicating what
he demanded of him back in the superstore. If it could speak it would’ve simply
spoken right then.

Probably didn’t even hear me either
, he thought.    

Then, as though hearing his thoughts better than the sound of his voice,
the Reaper turned methodically to face Vince, peeled open its robe and removed
something from concealment and presented it to Vince.

It was only when Vince felt the weight and rotated the object around so
he could see the familiar face of the man he’d shot in cold blood did he
realise what it was.

Then the screaming began… 

*

Natalie
drove in the opposite direction to where she and her John had been. She drove
past the infant school, past the local library, some pubs and a pool hall until
something ahead made her slow her speed.

Two hundred yards ahead a man with a demented expression sprinted across
the road and hurled a rock through the window of the ice cream parlour. Even
inside the transit with the din of the engine rumbling and the distance between
her and the ice cream parlour, Natalie jolted in her seat at the shattering of
a pane glass window. Glass cascaded in a jagged stream, leaving a tooth-gapped
maw as an opening.

As she drew nearer, Natalie shifted down the gearbox and craned her head
out the window to see the man in the interior raiding the store. The ice cream
parlour didn’t sell many goods other than coffee, tea, sweets, chocolate, ice
cream in cones and pots and other candy delights. The maniacal man was acting
on pure instinct, not rationality. When he leapt through the hole he’d made by
his mindless act of violence and laid eyes on the moving transit he sprinted
towards her.

Natalie slammed her foot on the go pedal. The engine protested until she
shifted into a higher gear. She emitted a yell of terror as the madman’s fists
pounded on the bodywork. He was shouting something abusive at her, but the din
of the revving engine drowned the essence of that out. Air exploded from her as
she exhaled and watched the madman grow smaller in the rear-view mirror. He
thrashed his hands at her.

Natalie drove on.

*

Sue
Dyer had no dreams or premonitions that gave her a forewarning of the end of
the world. However, when the innumerable stories all across the country and
around the world kept rolling in one after another on an endless ream, she knew
then the world would never truly be at peace.

The two world wars were bad enough. Not to mention the Falklands and Vietnam. In recent times it was the conflict in the Middle East and the 911 incident. The
latter had traumatised her more than most in the U.K. when she found out her
cousin Bobby had died while taking a two week vacation to New York (a lifelong
dream for him). He’d run towards the Trade Centre buildings after the first
plane had made impact to help citizens trying to flee the buildings and from
being struck by falling bodies and flying debris. He’d been at Ground Zero when
the second plane flew into the other tower. No one knew precisely what had been
the cause of death. However, according to coroner reports he’d been struck on
the head and pulled out of wreckage, minus half a leg some weeks later.

But this time it wasn’t conflict that was tearing the world apart. The
world all over faced the same peril, which bizarrely united all nations. Sue
always expected there to come a time when the world was without habitation. Yet
she’d always envisioned humankind destroying itself, being the sole reason of
their extinction.

She could have quite easily have continued as normal. Content with being
in her favourite armchair with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a good book,
Sue would let her fate be decided by chance or a higher power. Yet if she did
that her best friend since high school, Natalie Hayes, would be crippled in
mourning for her. Sue would feel exactly the same if it was the other way
around too. So when Natalie called her a couple of days ago and told her about
the sanctuary John had discovered not two miles from her house, Sue accepted
the invitation to join her best friend.

Today was Christmas, although it didn’t seem to be. Christmas and New
Year celebrations were events celebrated in past soon to become as distant as a
star. No one had anything to celebrate or be cheerful about. Nevertheless, Sue,
like a lot of the countries’ most privileged now had somewhere to go where
there was a fairly good chance she might survive the devastation and be alive
for the aftermath.

But time was creeping on. She checked the clock on the wall in the
kitchen and sighed.

3:51

Already the twilight was sneaking up over the horizon, masking the
daylight in its black cloak. Sue finished her tea, cringing at the cold liquid
running down her throat. She was expecting Natalie to phone her sometime this
afternoon. That’s what they’d arranged. Although Natalie had wanted to come
over in the morning, but had to make other arrangements when John told her
they’d need to prepare. Sue and Natalie kept in touch with each other a couple
of times a day. That was before the news of the asteroids heading to Earth.
Thereafter, they’d been in touch in person, over the phone and via email and
text messages.

Sue crossed the kitchen to the sink and poured the cold dregs down the
drain. She didn’t know how to proceed. An hour earlier she’d sent a polite,
concerned text to Natalie asking if everything was all right, stating she was
ready to meet up when it suited Natalie best.

No text back. No phone call. Nothing.

Under the circumstances, what with folks running about in hysterics and
madness, Sue couldn’t help conjure up the worst possible scenarios.

She shook her head, as if the bad thoughts were clinging to her roots.

No! Nothing unforeseen or awful has happened. Natalie and John are
just very busy getting everything sorted before we take refuge in the bunker.
It’s no use forgetting something imperative when we’re down there, ’cause then
it’ll be too late. Be patient.

Sue nodded acquiescence at her plausible and lucid reasoning.

She turned on the portable radio and listened to the hurried and frantic
voice of the announcer.

“
Once again for those listeners just tuning in, a mad riot has erupted
outside the House of Commons. Ordinary citizens insane with the pending Doomsday
have been attacking the House of Commons since midday. Many have been gunned down. Military forces constructed a barricade to prevent further attacks. Two
hours ago citizens calmed down and began to disperse. Yet an attack on an SUV
arriving outside to collect the Prime Minister broke out. And I can now
announce for the second time that the Prime Minister has been shot. He died
shortly after from the fatal wound in his neck.

“It appears envious citizens are blaming the pending devastation on
our government leaders for not acting quickly enough when the largest asteroid
was discovered a year ago.

“Folks, usually I’d be working till eight this evening, but for God’s
sake it’s the END OF THE FUCKIN’ WORLD!”

Over the clatter of the announcer moving in the background, Sue heard him
say in a tiny, faraway voice ‘…
getting the fuck outta here!
’          

Eternal static crackled out of the speaker.

Sue broke out of her trance and flicked the OFF switch. She withdrew her
open hand from her mouth, not realising she’d lifted it. The harrowing
declaration of the Prime Minister’s untimely death sent a powerful shock wave
through her system.