Death and The Devil - Seth Benjamin (latest ebook reader TXT) 📗

When Susan opened her eyes, the room was different. Devoid of color and temperature, like all the life had been sucked from it. Her mother was hunched in the chair beside her with her head cradled in her hands. The doctor stood in front of her just to the left of the bed. While he talked his hands clasped and unclasped below his belt whenever he needed them to gesture a particularly difficult point. His mouth was moving but no sound came out. The tears coming down her mother’s face were the only indication that she was crying. Her sobs were silent.

                Susan sat up, but nobody paid attention. She tried to grip the bed sheets but her fingers passed right through. She turned her head and gazed emptily at her own body, lying motionless on the gurney. Her bald head was turned to the side, tubes sprouting from her nostrils. The sight didn’t come as a surprise to Susan. Deep down she had known from the moment she opened her eyes.

                Clack. Clack. Clack.

                She turned her attention to the window. An owl was perched on the leg outside knocking at the glass with darted movements of its head. The owl wasn’t asking for permission to come in, she sensed. It was more of a courtesy, to alert those in the room that it was here. Susan made no move to get up to let it in but it bobbed through the glass anyways with a flutter of wings.

                It was grey from beak to wing, the color of the storm rolling in. It clutched onto the bed railing with long hooked talons and shook out its feathers. It spoke without moving. Its feathers ruffled as if they were standing on open ground.

                “Susan.” It was spoken as a statement, another way of announcing itself.

                She blinked and the owl was gone. A man stood in its place, a hand on the bedrail. He was tall and gaunt. The bones in his face pushed against the constraints of his flesh. He wore a grey three piece suit with a white button up and a bleak tie. The top of his head was shaved completely but he had a little fur left behind his ears, sticking out at odd angles. He wore spectacles, round ones that contrasted sharply with his oval face. He carried a briefcase in his left hand. This time when he spoke his mouth moved.

                “Good Morning, Susan.” He repeated half a whisper. He placed the briefcase at the foot of her bed without waiting for a reply and unlocked the clasps in a monotonous motion. He took no pleasure in raising the lid.

                It took Susan a moment to find her voice. Even in the childish recesses of her mind she understood who he was and why he had come for her.

                “Death?” She asked and her voice echoed through the room. He nodded, shifting through the papers in his briefcase.

                She could feel an emotion akin to sadness welling up in her stomach, but it was far away detached from her. Maybe the sadness was coming from the other Susan, the one still lying beneath on the bed.

                “Am I dead?” She asked with the faintest hint of a whimper.

                Death looked up from his papers briefly and fixed her with a blank stare. “Not yet.” He turned his head away from her and glanced casually toward the entrance to the room. Susan followed his gaze, suddenly expecting someone would walk through. Instead it slithered.

                Thick as a gorilla’s arm and slick black like a wet tire, the snake rounded the door frame and passed through the doctor exiting the room. It vanished in a cough of smoke suddenly and produced a black velvety butterfly. It fluttered violently and landed on the bed rail, flexing its wings softly. Death regarded it lightly, returning to the papers in his briefcase. Another puff of black smoke like tar and the butterfly disappeared, replaced by another man.

                This man was dressed in a black suit and was not all together unhandsome. He had jet black, oiled hair, short and tight around his ears. He had a lithe jawline and strong, well-set shoulders. His eyes were a trusting blue. He wore his smile like a firm handshake. He too had a briefcase, a black one. Susan found herself feeling uneasy, afraid and intimately curious all at once.

                “Am I late?” he grinned at Death, who only grunted and closed his briefcase, setting a stack of papers on top of them.

                He glanced again at Susan, “No?” Ever smiling. “Let’s get started then shall we?”

                He placed his suitcase on the bed as well, opposite of Death’s. Susan chanced a glance at it and the man in black laughed and gestured at the briefcase. “This is for ornamental purposes only. It makes me look more imperious, don’t you think?”

                He waited for no reaction from Susan, but suddenly his face darkened, although the smile never left his face. He seemed to take in the scenery for the first time.

                “Now this is a sad sight, too sad.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly. “How old are you Darling?”

                “Twelve.” Susan echoed.

                “Now that is a shame. A real tragedy.” He feigned exhaustion and looked to Death for agreement. Death only nodded stoically.

                “But…”His face changed instantaneously to a look of optimism… “that is why we are here. Susan, the truth is you don’t have to die.”

                Susan glanced over from the man over to death. Somehow deep inside she knew that something was missing. “There should be one more,” she said.

                “Clever girl.” The devil clapped his hands mockingly at her. “I suppose you figured out who I am, and Death here is always forthcoming with his identity. So you’re wondering where the good guy is?” He giggled. “My arch enemy doesn’t like to dirty himself with these kinds of things.”

                He paced reflectively. “It is hard for humans to imagine an impartial God, one who can be alternately full of love and compassion before being vengeful and jealous. The truth is that God isn’t perfect, only powerful. All of that power is dangerous. He finds it easier to stay impartial, if he just stays distant.”

                He took a glance at Susan’s mother in the corner, bowed with her eyes closed and hands together.

                “Your mother has been asking people to pray for you.” He grinned at her. “How many prayers do you think your life is worth Susan? If you receive 300 prayers asking for your speedy recovery, is that enough? What if God sets the mark at 305 prayers? Is it just tough luck for Susan?”

                Susan felt more sadness, far away, maybe in the other Susan, followed by anger.

                “No…prayer doesn’t work.” The man called the devil continued. “That would be unfair to everyone else who receives less prayer and it would be unfair to you by those who receive more prayer. You were born into a fair and impartial world, because he chooses to stay away. Everyone plays by the same rules Susan. “

                “How?” Susan asked.

                “A trade.” Death spoke up flatly. “Your life for two others, or more.” He traced a lifeless finger over the sheets flattened over his briefcase.”

                Susan didn’t understand. The Devil stepped in, producing graphs on a stand from a puff of ebony smoke.  The chart was ashy and dirty with a black line sprouting up like the side of a bell from the left side of the chart.

                “This is a chart showing the rise in human population. As you can see, the curve is rising dramatically. To curb this problem, I have been allowed to pitch our idea to those on the way out.”

                Susan cocked her head to the side and glanced skeptically at Death. “What about him?”

                Death blinked and the Devil talked. “He has no rooting interest in your choice. He’s just here to do the reaping afterwards.”

                Susan shivered, far away. She glanced up. “He’s okay with this?”

                The Devil leered. “He gave you free will. All he asks is that you exercise it.” He held his fingers up and pinched them together, waiting to snap. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

                He snapped, but Susan never heard the sound. She was surrounded by darkness, except it wasn’t the dark, but a void. There was nothing. No sound or light. But she was screaming, far away, her screams vibrating the bones of her skull. Her skin was shrinking, thinning, fusing into her bones. Time was one, the years of long ago in the same instant as the years yet to come. All of it passing without her.

                Then she heard the snap and she was shaking, not far away, but close this time. She heaved and it echoed around the three of them.

                “There, there” Death cackled, feigning comfort. “That was only a preview. A glimpse of what’s to come if you should decide to choose unselfishly.”

                She wanted to curl into a little ball, to dive back into the body on the bed and become herself again. She was still reeling, clutching her arms, but the empty feeling of death was retreating quickly, running far away. What little warmth was left to the room returned to her slowly. The Devil blinked slowly, watching her with eager eyes. Death stood waiting, with pen in hand.

                Susan glared, pulling courage from an unknown source. “That wasn’t real. It was only meant to trick me. When I’m dead, I won’t be alive to know it.”

                “How do you know?”

                “I don’t.” Susan admitted.

                “Whether or not you are aware of it, time will move on without you.” The devil whispered and the smallest shiver returned to race up and down Susan’s spine.

                “Does anyone say yes?”

                “Of course. They agree in droves.” Death cleared his throat and the Devil shot a look in his direction.

                “He doesn’t agree with you.” Susan observed.

                “Death has a regrettable passion for the truth. Another absolution for him. He can never let a lie slip from my lips without twitching.” The Devil rubbed his temple. “In truth, there are many who decline me.”

                “Who?” Susan asked.

                “Anyone who has nothing left to live for. The elderly or those who lead lamentable lives.”

                “Which means that you prey on those like me. The young?” Susan said slowly.

                “The young are more likely to take us up on our offer sure.” He nodded. “But it would surprise you how many of your kind are too eager to steal something so precious from others, even those who had all but given up.”

                Death never moved. He merely listened, occasionally glancing down at his papers as if he was itching for someone to sign them. All of the talking looked like it bored him.

                “If I take two lives? How would it happen?”

                “You can decide, or you can leave them up to me. It will be an accident.” He paused and his grin curved more wickedly around his ears, “An act of God.”

                His eyes brightened when he saw the look of realization dawn upon her. “You mean…?”

                “Yes,” He sneered. “Every earthquake, every gas explosion, every silent carbon monoxide leak, every hit and run, every spider bite and every man who stumbles out of a tree might be paying someone else’s price.”

                She turned to look at Death. “What would three people earn me?”

                Death dropped his pen and held out his ashen hand. He spread his palm wide and extended his finger until the bones couldn’t stretch any further. The wrinkles and lines on his hands shook and moved, curving around to form a date, shown only to Susan.

                Her eyebrows curved, “That