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“Going My Way?”
He flicked on the lighter in his hand, bringing it to the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The first drag was heaven, Jim leaning back against the car door.
It was finally over. With three shotgun blasts to the chest and able to see daylight through the wounds, there was no way John Ryder was getting back up again.
Jim put his head back on the car window, wondering how long it was going to take police backup to arrive. After everything he had been through, undergoing one more interrogation would be nothing. At least this time, there was no doubt who was at fault for everything.
He had finished off half his cigarette when a low groan caught Jim’s attention. He looked up, his eyes widening in shock at the sight that unfolded before him.
Though it should have been impossible, Ryder was on his feet again, the clothes on his chest bloody ribbons. His breathing was labored, eyes ablaze with determination. As Jim watched, the large holes in his body slowly knit together, bones, muscles, and skin regenerating with no sign of previous trauma.
His hands shaking, Jim’s cigarette fell from his lips. Between them, on the ground, laid the shotgun. Ryder’s gaze flicked downwards, and he smiled as he gestured for Jim to take it as if it wasn’t a deadly weapon.
Wasting no time, Jim snatched it up and pulled the trigger, the gun clicking empty. Over and over, the sound echoed in Jim’s ears as he tried again and again to no avail. The shotgun didn’t magically fill with bullets again.
“Even if it was loaded, it’d do no good,” Ryder said smoothly, rotating his neck, a few cricks in it smoothing out. “You know that now.”
Jim gradually lowered the shotgun, his throat going dry. “W-What are you?”
“Ever hear of Magere Hein?” Jim stared blankly. “Uncle Hendrik?” Shaking his head sadly, Ryder shrugged off his coat. He made a face at the mess it had become, ultimately tossing it to the ground. “No proper education these days.”
Jim waited, thoroughly confused and frightened at the situation. With a sigh, Ryder’s eyes met his, the deadness he saw there sending a chill down his spine.
“I’m what you might call the Grim Reaper, son.”
“What?”
Ryder put his head to the side in thought as if he realized how confusing his confession might be. “There's more than one of us, of course. Different religions, different personifications, you see.
“I immigrated to America quite a long time ago. My caseload has gotten steadily bigger over the centuries,” he said steadily. “Overpopulation is only going to make everything worse.”
“But I d-don’t,” Jim stuttered, trying to wrap his mind around the proceedings. “If you're Death incarnate, why did you pursue me so hard?”
“Because I thought you might be the one to finally kill me,” Ryder announced, Jim stunned into silence at the admission. “Living so long is tiring, especially when you're stuck with one damn job. People don’t automatically die, you see. I have to be there to cut the strings.”
Jim didn’t want to believe such a thing could be possible, but he’d seen the man regenerate in front of his own eyes. That, combined with the fact that the police hadn’t been able to find anything on Ryder as if he was a ghost, clinched it.
“There are steps to go through for a god to commit suicide. Corrupting an innocent soul is one,” Ryder explained. “I believe I succeeded on that count.”
Jim’s stomach turned in distaste, realizing that he’d killed Ryder with a song in his heart, believing he was in the right. “Is that what Nash and everyone else were to you? Cannon fodder?”
“Make no mistake, Jim. Everyone who has died around you was destined to. There is a design, and I must follow it just as much as you.” Ryder paused. “Would you like to see it?”
Slowly, he held a hand out to Jim.
Jim eyed the proffered limb distrustfully. “I’ve touched you before, and nothing happened.”
He tried not to remember the way his heart had hammered like mad in the interrogation room, Ryder’s eyes glued to him while they held hands. That he’d plucked up the courage to spit in Ryder’s face had been a miracle.
“Not like this,” Ryder replied, carefully staying still as Jim stepped forward and touched the man’s hand.
The second they made contact, the world tilted violently on its axis, everything going black around Jim.
Where it had been a normal southwestern landscape before was now a flurry of noise as people from every walk of life surrounded them. They talked, laughed, slept, worked as they lived their lives, unaware of how fragile they really were. Time was running out for all of them.
“Are these people…?”
Ryder nodded. “They’re scheduled to die soon.” He dropped Jim’s hand, the vivid display around Jim fading away. “What’s curious is some see me as an invisible force, others as a faceless creature dressed in dark robes, but you, Jim, have always seen me as a man.
“Your belief in me was strong enough that I could also appear as such to other people as well. Though you still fought me tooth and nail every step of the way before giving up.”
Jim scoffed. “I haven-“
“No?” Ryder questioned lightly. “You’ve stopped running from me at last, probably because you know the truth on some level.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sirens bombarded the air, colorful lights approaching their location from the encroaching darkness. Ryder chuckled, then raised his hand, snapping his fingers. Everything went hazy, thick fog rolling into the landscape as Jim watched a mass of police cars pass right through them.
The officers got out, seeming a long way away, completely ignoring Jim and Ryder’s existence.
Jim touched his arm, but it felt solid, normal. “Why can’t they see us?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Ryder asked, raising an eyebrow.
The blood in Jim’s veins went cold, dreading the next words out of Ryder’s mouth.
“You’re dead, Jim. Have been for a while now.”
Somehow he’d known that deep down already. “Since when?”
“The night you picked me up. You fell asleep at the wheel and thought you woke up in time to swerve back into your own lane. You didn’t.”
“But everything I’ve been through…my body…” Jim hadn’t felt any different. If anything, he’d felt more alive than he ever had before after running so long from Ryder.
“Merely a polite convenience I extended to you,” Ryder said calmly. “You can’t grip a gun without fingers after all.”
“Is that all this was to you, some kind of sick game?”
Ryder raised a hand, using his index finger to point upward. “Look up, boy.”
Jim did so briefly, only seeing the sky. “I’m older than some of those stars. I’ve been on the planet for a very long time. A man has to have a hobby.”
“So that bullshit about wanting to die is-“
“It's true,” Ryder replied. “Even someone like me gets tired of living. But there are conditions I must follow, and if one of them isn’t met…”
“So, if I had pulled the trigger back in the truck cab, would you have died? Truly died?”
Ryder’s laugh was short and bitter. “We’ll never know, will we?”
It was stupid to pry so far into the game, but Jim had to know. “If you’re Death, then why do you kill people so brutally? The family that gave you a ride…what did they do to deserve that?”
Flashes of dismembered bodies, blood-soaked car seats, and kids far too still and quiet slashed through Jim’s mind.
Ryder shrugged a shoulder. “Doing the same job for eternity gets old. Mercy is dull and boring. I’ve grown to prefer a more hands-on approach.”
Jim trembled at the coldness in his words, the flat way Ryder’s eyes bore into his unflinchingly. “You’re sick.”
Suddenly, Ryder was right in front of him, his face mere inches from Jim’s. He smiled as he gripped Jim’s chin.
“People die, Jim. It’s the natural order of things. If those destined for the grave lived, they would spread misery to anyone they encountered. Do you want that? A world full of chaos?”
There it was again, an air of tight tension between them, the sweet, pungent zing of ozone teasing Jim’s nose. He realized the scent came from Ryder himself.
Jim swallowed hard, trapped between Ryder and the car with nowhere to go.
Ryder spread his hand, raising it to Jim’s cheek. His fingers were cold. “I let you have time to accept your circumstances, something I rarely do. Do you know why? Because I sensed something more between us than predator and prey.”
Though Jim was loathe to admit it, he was right. He froze in place when Ryder pressed forward and hovered over his mouth, slowly realizing that Ryder was waiting for him to make the decision to kiss him.
He could push Ryder away. It’d be easy, but…he didn’t want to. What harm would it do if Jim gave into his unspoken impulses for once? After all, no one could even see them.
Jim grabbed Ryder’s shirt collar and closed his eyes as he pushed his mouth to Ryder’s, a shock of heat running up his spine. It felt soft and electric, and the way Ryder took command of the kiss, his tongue pushing against Jim’s, soon had his knees going weak, Ryder having to use his free hand to hold Jim up when he faltered.
God, this had been a mistake. If he’d been stronger, reminded himself of all the death and pain the man against him had left in his wake, Jim would never have known such bliss.
He let out a small moan as he made himself step to the side, breaking away from Ryder. His breath was wild, so hard it hurt. Why was it someone so terrible could affect him that deeply?
“Just when things were getting good too,” Ryder said with a smirk. “Still a tease, huh, Jim?” He took a deep breath. “Now the reason I haven’t reaped you, boy. I’d like a bit of companionship.”
“Fuck you.”
“That too, ideally.”
Jim flushed as the full implication of the Ryder’s words sank in. “I don’t- I’m not.”
“You can’t lie to me, not after that kiss.”
He looked away, unable to deny what Ryder had said. Hadn’t that also been one of the reasons Jim had picked Ryder up, to begin with, to indulge in some anonymous sex with no strings attached?
“It’s a devil’s bargain.”
“Call it what you want, but the offer stands. Do you want to pass on or stay here with me?”
“Goddamn you,” Jim growled, hating how he had been driven into a corner. “You saw how hard I fought you. Of course, I want to live.”
Ryder grinned. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”
Jim lit another cigarette, needing the comfort the hit of tobacco provided. It’s not like it could hurt him anymore. “What happens now?”
“Now?” Ryder parroted mockingly. “Now, I activate the catalyst inside you that allows you to escape the trappings of humanity you’re still clinging to. All you need is the right spark.”
Jim threw his cigarette to the ground, not surprised to see it disappear in seconds. “And then I’ll become a monster like you?”
Ryder placed a hand on Jim’s chest, some type of energy radiating from the spot as a long shadow spread from Ryder’s back, gradually coming to cover his head like a hood. His facial features sank in on themselves until they were near skeletal.
“We’ll see how long you hang onto those precious morals of yours after a few centuries have passed.” Ryder’s voice had gotten deep and rich, a strange echo in his words.
“Is that a challenge, old man? I’ll gladly prove you wrong,” Jim replied, one corner of his mouth quirking up.
Ryder laughed. “I knew you would keep me on my toes.”
He wondered if he was making the right choice, whether it would have been better to go onto whatever afterlife awaited him. But if Jim had, there would have been no one to keep Ryder in check.
Beyond that, Jim was curious about what could grow between them. He’d been driving to San Diego to get a fresh start in life, and while he hadn’t quite made it to California, damned if Jim didn’t find exactly what he was looking for anyway.
Who would have thought there really was life after death?