Chapter Eleven: ‘A true flesh wound...’

Hector’s feet dangled above the floor as he hung from the red blade through his chest. He grasped the blade with both hands, trying to pull it free, but he couldn’t grip it with his blood all over it.

“This little helmet of yours is curious. And annoying. Is your head your weak point, by chance?” Geoffrey’s red shade coiled around the helm’s jaw, tugging on it.

Hector felt himself panicking. He didn’t know what else to do. The only thing he had left in mind was his iron, but that was useless. He tried it anyway. He put a hand forth, and from it came a light shower of gray particles, about as dangerous as a handful of confetti.

Geoffrey laughed. “What the hell is this?” He gently blew the powder away and laughed even more. “Are you a party clown in your spare time? Do that again! Go on!”

Hector had a better idea. He coated his hands in iron dust and gripped the blade again. There it was. The friction he needed. He yanked the blade out and hit the ground rolling. He could hear Geoffrey’s elongated blades digging into the floor behind.

‘The main entrance is straight ahead of you,’ said Garovel.

He ran but felt something slowing him down. A bit of the red shadow was still wrapped around his helm, he realized. He pulled on it, but it stretched like taffy.

Geoffrey soon caught up. “Keep struggling,” he said, smiling. “Perhaps you’ll break it eventually.” When he saw Hector turn and walk towards him, his smile disappeared, however. He slashed Hector’s helm, but the sharp edge didn’t hit cleanly and just ricocheted off. Hector’s punch sent him bouncing from wall to ceiling to floor and out of sight around a corner.

He started for the entrance again, but Garovel stopped him.

‘Wait! You have to make sure Geoffrey stays on you! He has every reason to go after Colt, right now!’

“Shit.” He turned and ran back but didn’t have far to go. A red streak came soaring after him, and he rolled to the side. Seeing Geoffrey again was confirmation enough, so Hector bolted for the entrance.

Past the broad welcoming chamber and outside the house at last, he found no one but Garovel. Still underground and surrounded by dark rock formations, it would have been pitch black if not for the pathway lamps showing the way to a slew of elevators some dozen meters away.

Glancing back, he saw twin red lashes gunning for him. He avoided the first but caught the second through the gut, and a moment later, the first returned to hack his leg off.

Hector dropped to the ground, blood spurting out of his severed limb as he wrestled the thrashing red python. ‘Get back!’ he told Garovel.

The reaper listened, but too late. Geoffrey had reached the doorway, and one of the streaks was already snaking toward Garovel. It wrapped around the reaper and pulled him closer to Geoffrey.

“Found you!”

‘Garovel!’ Iron powder gave Hector the traction he needed to rip the streak out, but he couldn’t stand yet. His leg had scarcely regrown at all. “Don’t you hurt him!”

“Tell me what he is, and I won’t,” said Geoffrey.

The reaper struggled to break free of his red bonds but to no avail.

“Fine!” said Hector. He could feel his leg slowly returning. “Okay! I’ll tell you...!” He made Geoffrey wait a moment longer. “He’s... a reaper. You know. A reaper of death.”

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow, turning Garovel around in the air. “Ah... I see. Interesting. I still want to dissect him, though.” He stuck Garovel through the chest.

‘Ugh!’

“No!” It didn’t matter that his leg hadn’t fully returned. Hector stomped toward him with one gory stump. He clenched his fist so hard that he thought it might break, and he felt iron gathering around his knuckles almost involuntarily.

He slugged Geoffrey square in the face with every ounce of strength in his body.

Geoffrey smashed through the front of the house, and from the sound of it, several more walls within the building.

Hector looked at his hand. A thin metal veil covered the back of his palm and fingers. It wasn’t stable. Even as he stared at it, he saw it cracking and crumbling into dust, but it was still much more than he had expected to see.

‘Agh... Hector...’

“Garovel!”

The reaper just hovered there, the gash clear as day and smoldering.

“We’re leaving.” He vainly tried to take the reaper’s arm, phasing through it like smoke. “Dammit, we have to...! You have to follow me, Garovel!”

‘The children...’

“They aren’t here,” he said. “They must be with Colt. We have to get out of here.”

‘Alright, just... listen.’

“I swear to goddess, if you tell me to leave without you...!”

‘No... but I can’t move. I need you to... carry me.’

“Fine, fine. How?”

‘I have to attach myself to your soul... Come closer.’

“Okay. Do it.”

Immediately, Hector’s body felt stranger. Everything had a dull ache to it, and his strength diminished. He could feel the reaper’s presence, he realized, like a cloud hanging over his shoulders, dark and familiar... and weak.

‘Go quickly...’

He ran. He chose the closest elevator, but when the door didn’t open as soon as he hit the button, he moved to the next. The fifth attempt yielded immediate results, and he rode the small lift up in silence, listening intently for sounds of pursuit.

The door opened again, and he found himself in a closet, which led into the back of a drugstore. No one was around, as it was still the middle of the night. He slid over the counter and made his way outside. With no key to lock the door again behind him, he felt a bit bad about it but had to leave and hope no one took the opportunity to rob the place. Then again, the store was involved with Rofal, so maybe it deserved it.

Running with only one shoe soon grew awkward, so he pulled it off and threw it in a dumpster. One pant leg was also missing below the knee, but running around without pants on seemed less reasonable.

None of the buildings looked familiar. He slowed to a walk. ‘Where do I go, Garovel?’

The reaper did not answer.

‘Garovel?!’

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

‘Mm... what?’

He took a breath. ‘You scared me...’

‘Sorry... I’m... very tired... I need to rest...’

‘I need you to tell me where to go first. I don’t know where we are.’

‘Ah... uh... sorry, I... I’m...’

‘Garovel?’ He waited for answer but received none. He stopped walking.

Everything had happened so quickly. He hadn’t had much chance to take it all in. And standing in the open street, he still wasn’t ready to. Part of him was afraid Geoffrey would find them if he stopped moving for too long. So he kept walking, aimless and barefoot over cool, damp concrete.

‘Hector!’

At first, he thought it was Garovel, but then he realized. “Bohwanox?”

The reaper descended from the sky, the wound on his back still smoking, though less than before. ‘What happened?’

“Garovel was hurt... pretty badly... he’s, um... resting now.”

‘Ah... I see.’

“Are you alright?”

‘I think so, yes. I’ve never been wounded like this before, but I only feel mildly weakened.’

“That’s good... How’d you, um... h-how’d you find me?”

‘Searching, is how. From up high. I was worried you two didn’t make it. I saw that other man leaving earlier.’

“What other man?”

‘The one you were working with. He was talking to Rofal when I found you both tonight.’

“Ah! You saw Colt?!”

‘Was that his name?’

“Did he have two babies with him?”

‘He did have both arms full.’

“Can you take me to him?”

‘I believe so. Follow me.’

He had trouble keeping pace. His limbs were beginning to feel like lead. Bohwanox slowed down for him.

‘I should thank you, Hector.’

“What for?”

‘You saved my life.’

“Oh... well... I mean, I couldn’t just let you die...”

‘Yes, you could have.’

Hector’s brow lowered within his helm. “I wouldn’t have, then.”

Bohwanox eyed him quietly, his bony expression made thoughtful, and a silent intermission passed. ‘Are you sure Garovel is alright?’

Hector hesitated. “N-no... but then... if he dies, then...”

‘So do you.’

“Yeah...”

‘Do you feel like you’re dying?’

“Not exactly... This isn’t what it felt like before, anyway...”

‘Hmm. What happened to Geoffrey?’

“Still alive, I’m pretty sure... What is he? Do you have any idea?”

‘No, I don’t. Perhaps Garovel does. I get the impression he’s much older and more experienced than I am.’

“Really? Uh... h-how old are you?”

‘As a reaper, I’m only about seventy years old.’

“What do you mean, ‘as a reaper’...?”

‘If you count my human life, then I’m about a hundred or so, I suppose.’

Hector blinked. “You... you were human?”

Bohwanox’s skeletal brow rose. ‘Of course. All reapers were humans before they died. Garovel didn’t tell you?’

“Ah... well... we had a lot of other things to talk about. But, um... he did say that he was thousands of years old...”

‘It’s as I thought, then.’ Bohwanox circled around Hector to look at Garovel resting there.

“I just, um... I just thought all reapers were that old...”

‘Most are. I’m the rare one here.’

“Oh...”

‘We don’t choose to be reapers. It’s inherited, a recessive trait that barely manages to live on into modern times. The vast majority of reapers once lived among various ancient civilizations as humans.’

“Huh... why does it barely survive? Er, I mean... why isn’t it more, um... prevalent?”

‘I believe it’s a genetic reason, but honestly, that’s about all I know. I’m sure Garovel is more informed. I generally avoid involving myself with other reapers. I’ve seen many who are... well, violently insane would be an understatement.’

“Eesh... Garovel said something like that, too...”

‘Deluded zealotry, believing in absolute madness. And the ones who fight them aren’t much better.’ Bohwanox shook his head at the ground. ‘I can partly understand why. This existence after death... seeing but not being seen, hearing but not being heard... it’s not difficult to imagine it having ill effects on someone. Especially if that someone believed fiercely in the religions of their time.’

“Religion? What does that matter?”

‘The ancient religions of the world weren’t exactly renowned for their mercy and kindness.’

“Ah, right...”

‘Modern religions aren’t paragons of that, either, but at least society has abolished things like ritual sacrifice and slavery... well. Most societies, anyway. Horsht and Dozer are still full of stupid fucks who believe that garbage.’

“Y’know, for a spirit... you don’t seem very... spiritual...”

‘I will take that as a compliment,’ said Bohwanox, and he stopped. ‘Ah. Hold up. I saw Colt around here. Let me see if I can find him again.’ The reaper flew off.

Hector had the street to himself. Only the occasional vehicle or illuminated window spoke of any other life in the neighborhood. Not that he minded. The peace was much welcomed--especially as he eyed his shredded, blood-soaked garments.

“Gah... I’m burning through clothes like toilet paper...” Hector felt something in his head shift, and then realized it was just Garovel’s presence.

‘Did I hear... you found Colt...?’

‘Yeah. Bohwanox thinks he’s here. How are you feeling?’

‘Vaguely conscious...’

‘Y-you will recover, right?’

‘Yeah... don’t worry... But what will you do about... um... ugh...’

‘Garovel?’

‘Wha?’

‘You were saying something.’

‘Oh. Are you going to just let Colt go? He’s still a... uh... a murder...’

‘I know... And I’d like to put him in prison, but... that’d be a death sentence. Even assuming the other inmates wouldn’t kill him just for being a cop... Geoffrey’s gunning for him now.’

‘Ah... good thinking...’

‘I also don’t know what would become of his kids. I mean... would they actually be safe in foster care? Or with their mother? Who is she, even? Or is there someone else who--?’

‘Okay, shut up. I stopped listening... Handle it on your own...’

He exhaled a curt laugh. ‘Rest up, jackass.’

Soon, Bohwanox returned. ‘Found him. He’s parked around back.’

Hector followed the reaper through an abandoned terrace, paint peeling off the walls in large, leafing flakes. The ones on the floor stuck to his feet as he passed from dark room to dark room and finally out into a musty alley.

Colt spotted him immediately and took a moment to lower his gun. “Holy fuck, kid. I thought I looked like shit. What happened to you? Did you bathe in Geoffrey’s fuckin’ blood?”

“No... this is all mine...”

“Wait. You didn’t kill Geoffrey? Don’t tell me you let him live ‘cuz of some bleeding heart bullshit. I swear, that fucking kid deserved--”

“It’s not that I didn’t,” he said. “It’s that I couldn’t... He’s too strong. Or I’m too weak. All I know is... I couldn’t even hurt him...”

“Well, fuck.”

“Did you... did you get your kids?”

And Colt actually smiled--not with sarcasm, but with relief. “Yes, I did,” he said. He motioned over to the car, and there they were in the backseat, both wrapped in blankets. “They were screaming their heads off the whole way here. I don’t know how they’re sleeping now.”

“What about you?” Hector asked. “Are you injured?”

Colt revealed a gash under his left sleeve briefly. “There were three guys in the elevator.”

“You... killed them?”

“I did. That a problem for you?”

Hector sighed. “I guess not... You don’t have my advantages, so... I understand, but still...”

Colt tossed him something. “Here.” It was a burner phone.

Hector just waited for him to elaborate.

“I thought you might find me again. How the hell do you keep doing that, anyway?”

“It’s... too difficult to explain...”

“Whatever. My number’s in that phone.”

“Thank you...?”

“Thank yourself. I used your money.”

Hector tilted his head. “Cellphone stores aren’t open at this hour...”

Colt shrugged. “I may have broken a window to make my purchase.”

“You’re supposed to be a cop...”

“It’s fine. I left plenty of money on the counter.”

Hector pocketed the phone. It fell through his pants and hit the ground. He decided to just carry it. “You’ll call me if you need my help, I take it?”

“Well, since you’re offering, sure.” Colt moved for the driver’s door. “By the way, you need a ride?”

He thought a moment. “No...”

“Bah. Don’t want to show me where you live, huh?”

“There’s that... but mainly... I’d rather not be seen with the most wanted man in the country, right now.”

Colt gave an admissive nod.

“Where will you go?” Hector asked.

“Gotta get out of the city at least. Hopefully out of the country as well, but that’ll be difficult.” He reached into the backseat and pulled out Hector’s bag. He tossed it to him. “Thanks for all your help, Hector Goffe.”

Hector eyed the bag. His algebra book lay atop the mass of cash. He hadn’t expected Colt to rifle through his things, but he supposed he should have. “If you’re really thankful... then don’t make me regret letting you go... don’t ever hurt those children.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“So you say...”

Colt’s expression hardened. “What was that?”

“You’re a murderer... a violent man with violent tendencies... How do I know you won’t just... get tired of their crying one day and snap? Or lose your patience when they’re older and beat them?”

Colt glared. “I’d never hurt them. I swear on my life. You already know I’d die for them.”

They merely exchanged stares for a long moment.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you--” He glanced at Bohwanox, who nodded. “--so I’ll know if you break that promise.”

“I won’t.”

“Good... because I will hunt you down, if you do...”

Colt looked at him heavily, and then let out a brief laugh, which turned into a sigh. “You show up out of nowhere. You know all these things that no one else should. And you turn everything upside down... Just what the hell are you, kid?”

“...I haven’t figured that out yet, either.”