Ghost Reaper Episode 2

Episode
2

(A
serial novel)

by

Drew
Adams

(If
you haven't read Episode 1,
buy
it here
)

Chad’s
perfect life was coming apart.

Changes
that would devastate those he cared about had to be made.

Not
a convenient time to die.

Can he avoid
the grim reaper by becoming one?

How many souls
is he willing to sacrifice to regain his life?

How will he
judge who will die and who will live?

And what will
it cost him?

Follow his
struggles in these 12 heart-pounding episodes in this serial novel.

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either
are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright
© 2013 by Drew Adams

Cover
design by Melinda Merrell Designs.

All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means,
including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without the written permission of the author,
except where permitted by law and for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.

Use
of this e-book is limited to personal, non-commercial use. All
rights. No transmission, publication or exploitation of the e-book in
part or in whole is permitted without the prior written permission of
the author, Drew Adams. The book may not be resold or uploaded for
distribution to others.

Oh
death, what canst thou place before me now?

(Journal
of Lamentations)

The
boy looked human for the first time, a whimper escaped his lips, he
pushed long black bangs from his eyes and stepped behind the counter.
He was ignoring Chad completely, which suited Chad just as
completely. Standing there for what seemed an eternity, the boy
finally knelt by the bloody body, prodded it with the gun, raised and
looked nervously out the windows to the parking lot.

"Oh
man," he groaned. His gaze turned to Chad.

The
jig was up. No escape this time. He closed his eyes and waited for
the blast.

None
came. The kid stripped the wiring from the register, hoisted it from
the counter and left with it on his hip.

His
heart, which had been residing in his throat slowly slid back into
place, but it didn't stay there long. When he glanced toward the
bloody body, there was someone standing over it. It was the man, but
different. He looked better, less disheveled, and his apron was
clean. No, not just clean — bright — perfect.

“
Who
are you?” he asked.

Chad
couldn’t answer right away, his heart had leaped back to his
throat. There was no menace in the tone of the man’s voice. Just
bewilderment.

Realization
was sinking in fast. Conclusions rushing into his head that stretched
way beyond his beliefs or ability to comprehend. Nevertheless, he
found his voice. “Chad...Chad Dowdry.”

“
Glad
to meet you, Chad Dowdry, I’m...was... William Bentley...you can
call me Bill.”

"Bill...ok...Chad
works for me. You just got shot."

The
man displayed a rueful smile. "You don't miss much, do you?"

"Well...what
are you doing standing there? I mean...shit...you just got shot."

"You
already said that," Bill answered. "Maybe you're not that
sharp after all."

A
light bulb went off in Chad's head. He understood now all too well.
It was the kind of thing one was tempted not to embrace with total
confidence. No pain, no injuries, people ignoring him, running him
over. A lot to take after a near fatal car crash.

Apparently
more than near. I'm dead... toast... gone to the big
...whatever...I'm not in Kansas anymore that's for sure. So this is
how Dorothy felt. Well, at least she had Toto.

"Sorry...uh...damn..."
his voice trailed off.

"Yeah,
not real happy about it myself. I thought it would hurt, guess I
ought to be thankful."

There
were few things in Chad's life he felt thankful for and a really big
one had just been taken away. Of all the things to wonder about, his
next question seemed kind of ridiculous. "Why isn't your shirt
all messed up?"

Bill
looked down at his shirt, lifted it from his chest and shrugged.
"Good question." He looked down at his body. "That
one's messed up pretty good."

Chad
walked behind the counter. Bill's corpse, his chest and shirt ripped
apart and bloody, lay motionless, the man's eyes open wide, gazing
past the two of them. He wondered what
his
body looked like, then remembered the car bursting into flames. "I
was in a car, hit a ledge on the way down a canyon. Never saw my
body. I didn't feel any pain either, just a jolt."

"Bummer."

"You
can say that again."

"Bummer,"
Bill repeated.

Chad
couldn't help but laugh. "You're in a pretty good mood for
someone with a basketball size hole in his chest."

Bill
looked down again. "Him...not me...I feel pretty damn good
considerin'."

"Considering
what?"

"That
hole in my chest."

"You
don't have a hole in
your
chest."

"Are
we gonna do this all day?"

"Who's
on first?"

The
older man smiled, "You're alright, Dowdry, I always felt that if
you couldn't laugh at yourself...well...I guess this is the ultimate
test of that. What are ghosts suppose to do anyway?"

"Drag
chains, scream out boo, how the hell should I know? My clothes aren't
messed up and I have no cuts, scrapes, or bruises. What the hell kind
of after life is this?"

"You're
not going to let go of that are you?"

"No,
it's bugging me."

"Ok...maybe
our life force, or energy reforms itself like we remember ourselves
before we died."

"I
was expecting something more old school. You a spiritual man, Bill?”

“
I
don’t know...went to church, but to be honest, the wife had to drag
me there. Never thought much about it really. Figured there must be a
higher power, but the whole thing seemed sort of put on to me, so I
went along with it to keep the old lady happy. Damn, this’ll kill
her. What do I tell my wife?”

“
I
don’t know Bill, unless the shock does kill her, I don’t expect
you’ll be speaking with her."

An
uncomfortable pause followed. Chad fought the regret creeping up his
throat.
Some
minister I'd have been. Really comforting words, Dowdry.

Bill
was staring at his ex-self. Chad stared anywhere but at Bill, and was
about to try and get his
foot
out of his mouth when his fellow ghost spoke.

"So...what
do we do now?"

Some
part of his mind had been thinking about that. Seemed like there
ought to be other lost souls out there in the same fix. People die
everyday, maybe they could find someone that had figured some of it
out. His instincts told him to keep moving. Staying put solved
nothing.

"I
think we should leave here, see if we can find some help."

"Leave?
Where in the blazes you want to go? Don't you think we're a little
past help?" The big man's voice faltered.

"What...you
just want to hang out here...haunt the place?"

"I
think I want to go see my wife."

Another
awkward pause ensued. Chad thought that was a bad idea ."Okay —
how much of a walk are we talking about?"

"Who
said anything about walking?"

"You
thinking about driving?"

"Riding.
My Harley’s out back.”

"Uh,
Bill, I guess you haven't considered it, but I think we're like —
invisible."

"Aw...well...screw
'em if they can't take a joke."

Chad
smiled, you just had to love the guy. "Alright man...let's
ride."

The
former owner of the diner stooped his 6'4" frame over, retrieved
two helmets from under the counter, and tossed one to Chadwick. It
slipped through his hands as if it was buttered. He reached for it
and with considerable effort, picked it up and placed the piece of
equipment on his head. Perfect fit, but it didn't feel right.

"What
good are these things gonna do us?" Chad asked.

Bill
chuckled, "I was hoping they would make it seem like the bike
wasn't just driving itself." He stepped over his former self and
went through two swinging doors

That
made as much sense as anything else. Chad shrugged his shoulders and
followed him; At the back door Bill let him go first, then began
searching his pockets. Confused wrinkles creased his ample forehead.

"What?"
Chad asked, the word brimmed with impatience. The anxiety he had
carried since the accident was mounting, the chill chillier. All in
all, this was a bad day and it was starting to get on his last nerve.

“
Can’t
find my keys. Always keep 'em in my pocket.”

“
Yeah...”
Chad answered, remembering his missing lighter. “...some things
don’t seem to make the transition." Bill's forehead furled
again, he went back through the double doors and returned jangling
the keys. He stood there a moment, taking in his beloved diner, then
strode to bike and hoisted one tree trunk of a leg over his hog. Chad
climbed on behind him. The big man was built like a board straight up
and down.

It’s
a sure bet, I’m not gonna be able to see around him.

Bill
pressed the start button and the engine roared: couple of twists of
the throttle sent rumblings bouncing in and out of the nearby hills.

Come
on man...let‘s not advertise.

He
eased off the clutch and the Harley rocketed around and out of the
parking lot. Chad clinched the man’s waist, noticing he still had
the apron on.