Rabid Transit: A Tim Reaper Story

The Beginning

Charlotte was only eight. The kid didn't ask to become The Supreme Being but that's what she was, and I needed to be the grown up. Amy, my super-powered ex-hooker now battle angel girlfriend says that I'm the father figure in Charlotte's life.

That's really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Seriously.

"Just stay focused, Reaper," Sparks said sharply as she turned in the direction of Rainbow Haven beach at Cow Bay. Beautiful spot with golden sand and clear but cold Atlantic water rolling in. It's the worst place on the face of the earth for yours truly. Cow Bay. It's where Amy died. (She had to die to become an angel. And it was all pre-ordained or some infinite destiny bullshit I can't wrap my head around.) What matters is that Amy died because of me. She lost out on a full life. I caused it.

"I haven't been back here since that night," I said coldly, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my leather blazer. "Still dealing."

Sparks glanced at me through the corner of her right eye and let out a quiet sigh. "I know, Reaper. It's hard work. But right now, we need to keep our eyes open because the contact is supposed to be on this beach."

"Yep," I answered with a quick nod.

Charlotte had a habit of drawing on the walls. She'd write out the base code of the universe in a language that is older than time itself. Her bedroom is upstairs in a new flat that I rent from a little old biddy. The walls are floor to ceiling white boards now. When you walk into her room and you're surrounded by calculus mixed with astrology combined with hieroglyphs and about a hundred other scrips and scrawls that only the kid understands because she makes up the rules.

Basically, she reads the cosmic tea leaves and this time the universe told her that me and Sparks were supposed to be at Cow Bay to meet someone who she simply referred to as 'the penitent' and we would know what to do.

Could be anything or anyone, this penitent. Might be a crazed nun with a flaming broad sword or a machine gun toting five-year-old with a cigar in his mouth who speaks King James English. Might be a horse-faced demon with a pair of burning coals for eyes. There are lots of VERY BAD THINGS out there, so yeah, I was really hoping that whatever we encountered wouldn't be the kind of thing that sees human beings as a buffet item.

I shivered as a bitter wind blew off the cold waves and onto the hard-packed sand. Sparks flashed her light across the beach. After a minute or two, she spotted him: a naked man standing up to his knees in the frigid surf. He was elderly; stooped over and leaning slightly to the right. He turned to face us in all his wrinkly, liver-spotted glory. He grinned madly and threw us a happy wave of both hands.

Sparks kept the beam of light on the naked man and barked, "Damn it, nobody wants to see that! Ugh ...take off your coat, Reaper!"

"Seriously?" I answered, a little put off that Sparks had quickly volunteered my coat for the crazy old naked dude standing in the ocean instead of fulfilling her civic duty and offering up her own taxpayer-funded coat.

"Do I look not serious?" she asked, pointing at her face which read from two feet away that I'd better do as I was told. "Freaky naked old men standing in the ocean at two in the morning are your department."

"Fine," I grumbled loudly as I took off my leather jacket and folded it over my right forearm. I marched forward through the sand with Sparks in tow.

I approached the old man, but I wasn't about to get my feet wet. If he wanted the coat, he'd have to get his decrepit ass out of the damned ocean and onto the beach.

"Give me your true name and then get out of the water, old man." I shouted.

He reached into the gentle surf and splashed the frigid water all over his chest and neck. "Just a lowly penitent," he said through chattering dentures. "Brrr! But now I am cleansed!"