Don't Fear The Reaper (5 page)

CENTRAL
LONDON

A WEEK
had
passed since the birth of baby Elias Benullo. Frank was still at work and Sammy
was given maternity leave and wouldn’t be returning to work until next year. He
was delighted with the fact that he was now officially a father but found the
enormity somewhat daunting. He’d rationalised that this was perfectly normal
behaviour, and that all first time parents experienced the jitters.

He’d briefly read a web page regarding fatherhood. Yet what he decided
would be best was to do the household chores and make life as easy and as
comfortable as possible for his wife and child.

The good news for Frank was that his fraternity leave was starting after
work today and would last six weeks. This would make his job of making sure his
wife and son didn’t have to do anything arduous for some time.

Once he’d seen his last patient for the day, Frank shut down the
computer, slipped into his suit jacket, grabbed his briefcase and left his
office. Colleagues who were loitering around the reception desk congratulated
him again on becoming a father and wished him all the best now that he’d be
absent for six weeks. He offered a smile and thanked them then ambled down a
short hallway to the heavy glass-panelled door that led to the employees’ car
park.

On the way home as he was in high-spirits, Frank turned on the radio
hoping for an upbeat ballad. Instead his euphoria dissolved into concern.

‘
Breaking news!
’ the reporter exclaimed. ‘
Thirteen girls aged
between eight and ten in Newcastle have committed suicide in the local woods in
what appears to be some sort of suicide pact.

‘The thirteen suicides attended four different schools and yet were
all members of the choir of three separate churches in Tyne and Wear. Parents
claim that there couldn’t be any possible way all the girls knew each other as
there was nothing linking them all together. Apart from their age group and the
fact that they sang in their local choirs there is nothing that relates these
girls together. Parents claim that all thirteen girls lived happy lives and
were content. There was no indication of any depression or long-term melancholy
from any of the girls.

‘A rambler discovered the thirteen bodies hanging side-by-side from a
large oak tree and had to be treated by EMT’s for shock and trauma. Police
officers who arrived at the scene of the suicide said they’d never seen
anything as creepy as the sight of the thirteen girls.

‘Police and parents alike are baffled as to how the girls came into
contact with each other and arranged a rendezvous for the group suicide pact.
Apparently, the girls had not only met and discussed and agreed to the suicide
but had also gone to extreme lengths of planning to choose a place where they
could execute their plan, away from prying eyes.’

Frank exhaled deeply and switched the radio off. He continued his drive
home in silence, unable to delete the graphic image of thirteen girls hanging
lifelessly, toes inches away from the forest floor, dressed in choir attire.

Once the red light eventually changed to green and the queue of traffic
rolled forward, Frank used the turn signal and got onto his street. Vehicles
parked on either side of the road outside shops and homes made the road twice
as narrow as it ought to have been. He had to slow down twice to allow cars
heading in the opposite direction to pass.

Having parked the car twenty yards away from outside his house, Frank got
out and felt the first drops of rain. He arched his head up and blinked as
droplets landed in his eyes. The black clouds leaden with rain and most likely
thunder and lighting diminished the daylight and encouraged night to embrace
the capital city.

Sensing someone close by, Frank looked back over his shoulder and saw a
thin, middle-aged man wearing a raincoat with matching hat. The out-of-place
man wasn’t walking or moving. He simply stood next to a streetlight, staring
fixedly at Frank. Unnerved by this, Frank cordially gestured to the forbidding
dark clouds. ‘Supposed to be the summer,’ he said, rolling his eyes for
dramatic effect.

The man across the street stared at him fixedly.

Okaaaaaaaay. That didn’t work. This guy is kinda creepy. Best just
leave him to move along in his own time. Probably thinks you’re staring at him.
He looks like he belongs in an institution. Just leave him and he’ll soon go
away.

Frank raised his hand in a goodbye gesture then turned and entered his
four-story, alabaster stucco residence. He closed the door behind him and
exhaled, not realising he’d been holding his breath.

The sound of the TV in the room to his right comforted him. Frank headed
towards it already putting the strange man across the street to the back of his
mind.  

*

Frank
and Sammy were enjoying a chicken korma curry after feeding Elias and changing
his nappy. The TV was on, although Frank deliberately asked if they would not watch
the news programmes. When Sammy inquired why he’d told her about the story he’d
heard on the radio in the car.

‘I just wanna enjoy this time off and not think about bad things; if
that’s all right?’

Sammy, disturbed by the story, told him that they were still warring in
Israel and Afghanistan; hundreds dead due to missiles being fired at towns.
Then she mentioned how an aircraft flying from Japan to South Africa had crashed after some sort of malfunction. Again hundreds had died. So Sammy
was more than happy to watch an episode of
Friends
.     

*

At
9:32pm Frank watched Sammy place Elias in his cot on the other side of their
bedroom. She sat there watching his eyes roam the ceiling overhead as she sung
a lullaby to him. Frank went to the bathroom to get in his pyjama bottoms and
brush his teeth.

When he came back into the bedroom, Sammy was lying in bed on her side
gazing at Elias who was very quickly drifting off to sleep. It was early for
Sammy and him to be retiring for the day, but they’d both been up early and
knew it was better for all of them to go to bed at a sensible time.

Frank crossed the bedroom to close the curtains when he froze.

Sammy didn’t notice the rigid, motionless stance of her husband with his
back to her. She continued to gaze at Elias until she too felt her heavy-lidded
eyes start to close.

Beyond the bedroom window, across the street four and a half hours after
he’d returned home, Frank’s eyes met that of the man in a raincoat staring at
him fixedly.

To articulate it to someone wouldn’t have sounded sinister in the least,
but to be standing in front of the window seeing the motionless figure by the
streetlight in the exact same posture he was earlier on was something else.
Frank could feel the first tendrils of black fingers tightening around his
heart. The most frightening aspect of all was the way the man in a raincoat had
chosen to stare at him outside his residence for hours on end.

He didn’t know what to do. Sammy was falling asleep as was his son, and
hard, pelting ran bolted down from the black skies. If he alerted his wife to
what he was seeing she would become distressed. If he did call the police what
exactly would he say: ‘There’s a member of the public standing on a public
pavement?’

Of course if a police constable were here right now they’d see for
themselves that there was much more to the man’s unblinking stare and lack of
movement. Yet as soon as they saw the patrol car coming down the street they
would disappear into one of the many alleyways or claim they were just going
for a walk when the rain came and stopped where there was some shelter to stop
getting soaked to the skin. There was no substantial evidence to support
Frank’s claims and what he would have achieved would be upsetting for his wife
and son with all the commotion.

Staring back at the ashen-faced man, Frank decided he’d wait until
morning. If the man was still there – Heaven forbid – then he’d bring it to
Sammy’s attention and phone the law.

With his mind made up, he drew the curtains closed.

When he read the time on the alarm clock he was visibly taken aback –
10:13pm

*

When
he awoke at ten to eight the next morning, Frank waited for Sammy to go to the
bathroom before leaping out of bed and rushing to the window. He braced himself
for the worst and parted the curtains.

The rain had eased and morning sunshine gleamed off the wet surface. His
mind and body were gratefully soaked in relief when his eyes registered that no
one was standing outside his home staring at him.

I very much doubt he was standing there four nearly five hours
watching the house, even if he did have a few marbles missing. He’d have to be
bloody stupid to be standing there all that time. Probably lives around here,
went for a walk and realised he was going to get caught in the rain
.    

But not even that sounded right in his mind. It still didn’t make sense.

Frank shook his head, confused and weary
. Well it’s not worth thinking
about now, is it? He’s gone, that’s what matters. Whatever concerns were
troubling you have gone with the man himself
.

Frank was convinced of that if nothing else.

But being convinced and knowing for a fact are two separate things…

REV PERKINS
arrived at his sister, Nadine’s home later that afternoon. He had the misfortune
to catch the grisly news story concerning thirteen young girls who’d committed
suicide in Newcastle for apparently no comprehensible reason. Thereafter, he’d
listened to a
Kings of Leon
CD.

He parked the car outside the house beneath the overhanging boughs of a
huge spruce, shading the pavement. The first thing he noticed as he got out was
the air perfumed by sweet jasmine. Red, coral and deep purple bougainvilleas
spread a wonderful miasma of blossoming colours throughout the well-maintained
garden, bursting with life, contrary to the overpowering palpable sense of
melancholy inside.

He didn’t know quite what to expect when he arrived at the Moretz family
home, although nothing had prepared him for the washed-out appearance that
disguised his sister when she answered the door.

‘Come in,’ Nadine said in a lacklustre tone.

Perkins hefted his suitcase up over the threshold and entered his
sister’s home. He followed her down the short hall to the living room. She
slumped down on the sofa and appeared to shrink within herself. Perkins found it
hard to see his sister this way. Evidently, she wasn’t going to be over the
moon to see him under the circumstances, but the melancholy and grief in the
silence crowded out everything else. Adorning the living room walls were
portraits and family pictures. Larry and Nadine on their honeymoon in Paris and
Larry and Nadine cutting the cake on their wedding. The pictures of them both
smiling and overjoyed had to feel like a dagger in the heart, seeing them in
the last week, Perkins thought. It also made Larry’s untimely passing to feel
like it was imaginary or a mistake.

Sighing, he lowered himself on the armchair and felt something jutting
out from the cushion. When he looked he saw it was an old yellow-paged
paperback.

‘It’s – was – Larry’s,’ Nadine said. ‘Put it on the table if it’s in the
way.’

‘No. It’s fine.’ Perkins exhaled and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.
‘It started spitting to rain as I was driving up here,’ he said, by way of
conversation.

Nadine didn’t respond.

‘I’m considering giving up the church,’ he said, although he wasn’t sure
why.

Nadine nodded, as though she expected him to say it.

Was she even listening?

‘You know you don’t have to be here,’ she said.

Perkins was taken aback by that comment. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘You’re not really my brother. You’re adopted. You’re under no obligation
to be here. You’ve got two weeks of annual leave. Do you really want to spend
it with a pregnant woman in mourning? Doesn’t sound like much of a break from
your work, does it? Especially if you’re thinking of leaving the church.’

Perkins slid his suitcase so that it was leaning against the side of the
armchair and out of the way. Then he looked closer at his sister. ‘I’m not your
biological brother, Nadine, no. I am– unless you tell me otherwise – your brother.
I chose to be here for you in your time of suffering… and for Larry. He was
always nice to me. I don’t know if that’s ’cause he felt sorry ’cause I am an
orphan or that was his nature. Maybe both. The real question is – do
you
want me to be here?’

Nadine’s red-rimmed eyes were dry of tears as she nodded, chin tucked
into her chest. ‘I’m so scared,’ she said in frail voice. ‘I’m so scared…’

‘You’re not alone. Remember that, Nadine.’

Nadine shook her head. ‘That’s not what I’m afraid of. Well, I am. But
Mum and Dad are more than willing to help out with the baby and have helped
make arrangements for the funeral next week.’

‘What are you so scared of then?’

‘Larry is gone. Nothing will ever bring him back. And God and all that, I
can’t say I have the strength never mind the faith to believe. Be fair – how
can I?’

Perkins gave her a look of empathy.

‘Just when I thought Larry and I were going to finally get some joy in
our lives, fate strikes another lightning bolt through my heart. And I don’t
think when you die good people go to Heaven and bad people go to Hell. That’s
just something nice to think to make people feel better about the subject of
death.

‘And I’m not afraid of that, either. In fact going back to how it was
before I was born seems more and more like a reward from all this agony.

 ‘What frightens me is that now my unborn child and I are at risk.’

Perkins rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. ‘Sis, I can
assure you that you and your baby are going to be all right. As you’ve said you
got Mum, Dad, me. You got lots of friends from school and college, all of which
are close to home. I’m only a two-hour drive away. Or an email or phone call.
You just need to sleep and try to eat something and know that that’s what Larry
would’ve wanted. He wouldn’t want you to be ill or your child to be ill. I
can’t answer for God. I’ll be perfectly honest its things like what’s happened
to Larry that I sometimes think God is the one who needs a good talking to.
Probably why I’m losing my faith. But sod God for the moment and think of
yourself and your baby, let me do the worrying.’

Nadine shifted in her seat on the sofa. ‘I have been sleeping, Anthony.
It’s my dreams that I am so scared of…’ She let what she said hang in the air.

Perkins felt the living room shrink around him until it seemed as though
he were talking to Nadine in a bomb shelter.

‘Shall I tell you my dream?’ Nadine said in a voice unlike her own.

Not able to answer verbally, Perkins kept his gaze on Nadine, a solemn
expression masking his feature making him appear older than he actually was.

‘In my dream I found myself walking through the thickest blankets of
swirling fog the likes of which no one has ever been seen. It coiled around me,
writhing in a serpentine fashion. That’s all there was for a long time. Then I
saw, in the far distance, something else. I hurried through the fog, pushing
the blankets of grey out of my way until finally I squinted and saw it clearly.
Amidst the endless fog was a luminous green light, pulsing like a cursor on a
screen. I knew then that the light was the source of the fog. And the only way
out of the endless fog was for me to keep running, faster now, towards the neon
light, dazzling, blinding me the closer I got, until there was nothing else,
save the light.

‘Then I found myself standing on a desolate street where Larry’s
burgundy-red Vauxhall had careered into the tailgate of a pickup truck that had
smashed the windscreen. The car had been saved from going further into the rear
of the truck by the bollard on the pavement.

‘Floating rather than walking, I grew closer to the scene of the accident
and saw the pale, horrified face of my late husband. He was bleeding internally
before his death. You could see where the capillaries burst and traces of veins
surfacing on his skin. The seat belt choked him and kept him pinned to the
seat.

‘But all those injuries hadn’t been what cost him his life! Larry was a
young, fit man. Something else caused his heart attack besides the injuries
sustained in the collision. I knew that already, I think. That’s why when the
police came to the house and said what the medical examiner said it didn’t make
an iota of sense. My intuition knew something else. The bulging eyes and gaping
jaw weren’t caused by his heart or any other kind of seizure brought on by a
collision.

‘That’s when I saw the large scrape across the road, from one pavement to
the next. Then I heard the ear-piercing scraping. You know the kind when a
teacher runs her long fingernails over the blackboard to get their students’
attention. It was like that only much higher-pitched.

‘From around the side of the street where the Pakistani family own and
live above their corner shop the noise preceded this towering figure that
wasn’t a man or animal. The object causing the grating sound was his scythe
being dragged across the concrete. It was so bad I had to clap my hands tightly
over my ears, and even then the din whistled down my ears making me wince.

‘Then it stopped abruptly. When I opened my eyes again I recoiled because
the face of the towering figure couldn’t be seen in the vast darkness of the
hood. The cloak wasn’t anything I’d seen anyone else wearing even for a
Halloween party. And for some reason I couldn’t move my gaze any lower than
past the cloak. It stood before me, and although it had no face that I could
see or no eyes I knew without clarification that it was observing me with
intent. I could feel it, the way some people know they are going to die shortly
before they die.

‘It raised an arm that was almost the same height as my entire body and a
skeletal finger jutted from the sleeve. It pointed towards the accident, and it
was then I knew what had caused Larry’s heart attack.

‘Then the dark figure turned back to me and pointed with that same
gnarled, ancient finger at my stomach and raised its scythe, showing me the
curved, razor-sharp blade and pretended to run its blade across my womb, inches
away from actually doing it.

‘I started crying then. And when this darkest of figures reached out to
me with its skeletal hand and filled my vision I was certain I was going to
die.

‘Then I woke up…’

As soon as he’d heard the description of the Grim Reaper Perkins felt the
volcanic grasp seizing his thudding heart, threatening to burst it into a river
of molten lava.

‘What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?’ Nadine said,
searching his eyes.

‘S-Sorry,’ he stammered. ‘Just found it disturbing, that’s all.’

‘What d’you think it means?’

‘I don’t know…’

Perkins couldn’t fathom how his sister was enduring the same visionary
dreams as he had. Also, he couldn’t rationalise why he didn’t confide in Nadine
regarding what he’d dreamt. This wasn’t coincidental. This meant something, but
for the life of him he couldn’t begin to guess what. However, the presence of
Death and the fact that Larry had died while driving in an unpredicted fog were
signs that suggested a sinister presence.  

‘Seriously, what are you thinking about?

His sister’s voice came to him as though a whisper reverberating down a
tunnel. ‘No one is gonna get your baby,’ he said in a husky voice. Once he’d
cleared his throat he added: ‘What happened to Larry was just the shittiest
kinda luck anyone could ever have. I can’t help wondering though, why he didn’t
wait for the fog to disperse.’

‘According to his friends in The Crown, the fog did ease off,’ Nadine
said. ‘He must’ve been rushing home to be with me. I told him not to.’

‘It’s not your fault before you start blaming yourself. I won’t say everything’s
gonna be all right, ’cause it’ll never be right again. But your baby needs you
now more than ever. Now how ’bout a hug?’

Nadine offered a meek smile and held her brother, and wept…