CHAPTER NINE -- I'VE DONE SOME VERY BAD THINGS

  1

  Inside the kitchen of a cozy trailer home, a heavyset, middle-aged woman, Momma Fate, was stirring a pot of stew on the stove when someone knocked at the front door.

  Momma Fate yelled to the door, “Come on in!”

  Ross and Dodd entered. Ross was immediately astonished by the sheer volume of shelves filled with ceramic figurines and marveled how the thin walls of the trailer house could support their weight. Any remaining space was decorated with tacky furnishings from various decades.

  In the cluttered living room sat a thin, elderly woman, Grandma Fate, having a beer and cackling at a decades-old sitcom showing on a vintage cabinet TV. A young girl with a cherubic face, Baby Fate, was sprawled out on the floor, drawing with crayons on construction paper.

  Momma Fate enveloped Ross and Dodd in a bear hug. “Dodd, good to see you again. And you must be Ross, nice to meet you.” She held the embrace for a moment before releasing them.

  “I’m really happy to see you all again,” Dodd said. “It’s been a minute since I last visited.”

  Momma Fate handed both men a bowl of stew. Ross sniffed it, unsure. Dodd dug right in.

  “Here, Momma. It's a bad one,” Baby Fate said as she handed Momma Fate her finished drawing. The girl grabbed a fresh piece of paper and began another picture.

  “Thank you, Baby,” Momma Fate said. “Just a second, gentlemen. I need write this down.” Ross peered at Baby Fate's illustration as Momma Fate copied information from it onto a yellow legal notepad. The child's colorful drawing depicted a stick figure man being hit by a car. The graphic sketch also had a name, place, time and date listed in a childlike scribble at the bottom.

  Ross said, “If I'm reading this correctly, Baby is saying some guy will get run over by a car and die Tuesday afternoon at three-ten. And this will happen as she predicted?”

  “Correct. Baby sees the future and I transcribe the circumstances of the death so the reapers can carry it out,” Momma Fate replied.

  “Do you also know if any living person will be present at the time of death?” Ross asked.

  “Of course. That's one of the many details that we provide to the reapers. Why do you ask?”

  Dodd finished his stew and held out the empty bowl for a refill. “Ross saw a suspicious guy in the vicinity of two deaths. But he didn't show up on either of the case files.”

  Momma Fate pondered this as she ladled more stew for Dodd and topped off Ross’s barely-touched bowl. “That means someone changed a detail after we made our death prediction.”

  “Only a reaper could do that,” Dodd stated.

  “Why would a reaper send this man to where someone is about to die?” Momma Fate asked.

  “Because then that guy could somehow attack whatever reaper showed up,” Ross replied.

  Momma Fate frowned. “I can’t imagine anyone would do that. What can I do to help?”

  Dodd said, “We’re hoping you’d access the reaper database for us. We need to look him up.”

  Momma opened a closet door to reveal a clunky vacuum-tubed monstrosity. The ancient computer was clearly smashed apart by the hammer still embedded in the monitor. “Sorry, our machine is offline as you can plainly see. Ma accidentally broke it,” Momma Fate said.

  “Grandma said it cheats at solitaire,” Baby Fate explained.

  “It looks like our redheaded friend is going to get away with murder,” Ross muttered angrily.

  Crestfallen, the two men were considering their next move when Grandma Fate called out from the living room, “Skulton sent us a memo about a redheaded guy. Can't remember what it said.”

  “Do you still have the memo?” Dodd asked with a look of faint hope dawning on his face.

  Grandma Fate shrugged and finished her beer. “If I do, it's with all my other paperwork.”

  2

  Vaught parked a cargo truck behind the Sotanaht Systems Research Center and climbed out. He looked around the nighttime surroundings; the place was deserted. When he pounded on the side of the truck, Morton, Kritt, Toomis, Moss and Sarn deployed from the back of the vehicle. Clad in faded camouflage fatigues, Kritt and her crew were all armed and carried break-in equipment. Morton wore his janitor's uniform, but carried no weapons.

  The team hurried to the exterior staircase that led up the side of the building. The stairway was surrounded by a metal grating that was secured with a lock and chain. Using a bolt cutter, Moss made short work of the chain and opened the grate. They raced up the metal stairs to the roof.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  3

  Covered in dust and cobwebs, Ross, Dodd, Momma and Grandma searched the paperwork stored in numerous cardboard boxes stacked inside of a large shed. Baby watched from the door.

  Dodd peered into a box, trying to discern the contents. “Why didn't you label these boxes?”

  “I'm not going to lie to you. We're a bit disorganized around here,” Momma admitted.

  “I found the drawings that Skulton wrote his memo about,” Grandma cackled as she plucked up two sketches from the floor. Crowding around her, they all saw that Baby's illustration was of a stick figure man who had hanged himself. Baby had drawn him with x's for eyes, tears running down his cheeks and Morton’s long, red hair.

  Grandma set the page aside to show another one of Baby’s pictures. “I knew something wasn't right when Baby drew this one the next day.” The second childish illustration was similar to the previous one of Morton hanging himself, but had one important difference. In this drawing Morton wasn’t alone. A shadowy figure wearing a hooded cloak had been added. The mysterious visitor appeared to be saving Morton by cutting the rope with a sharp scythe’s blade.

  They stood in silence, stunned. Finally, Dodd stated, “We really need to find that memo.”

  4

  Under the cover of night, Morton and the others scurried across the Sotanaht Systems rooftop. They reached the access door that led down into the building below and found it locked.

  Morton held out his hand. “Key, please.” Sarn looked to Kritt for confirmation and she nodded. Sarn handed him the sledgehammer. Morton smashed at the door with it, sundering the lock.

  Toomis fidgeted, looking around nervously. “You're sure there will be no alarm?”

  Morton replied, “I disabled it. Besides, security consists of an old, fat guy in the lobby who's watching a game or sleeping.” He dropped the sledgehammer and pushed the broken door open. “The only other person here is a janitor waxing the floors. He’ll be doing the first level for the next two hours. We won't even see him. All interior alarms will be off while he’s working.”

  Morton entered the stairwell and Kritt’s group followed him with their weapons at the ready. “This isn't some hi-tech government facility. It’s just an underfunded research center. Seriously, I’ve seen shopping malls that had better security. It's easy pickings. I'd stake my life on it.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Kritt said with a mirthless grin. “Because that's exactly what you're doing.”

  5

  Ross and Dodd walked into Skulton's office to find Graves, Skulton and Sappert looking over some paperwork after hours. The two men were met with looks of confusion.

  “What are you two doing here?” Skulton asked.

  Dodd replied, “We discovered something interesting while investigating the attacks.”

  “I thought I told you to stop playing amateur detective,” Skulton stated.

  “And now we know why,” Ross replied with an accusing glare at the chief.

  Dodd presented them with Baby Fate's original drawing of Morton hanging himself.

  “That looks like Baby Fate's sketch of somebody who's having a bad day,” said Skulton.

  Ross nodded curtly. “This is Morton. I saw him in the area when Toth was killed and when Angelina was almost crushed. We believe he probably was present when Ronoba died too.”

  “He's the guy who's been attacking reapers or he's involved somehow,” Dodd stated.

  Skulton squinted at the drawing. “According to Baby Fate’s illustration, this man was destined to die a month ago. I doubt he's still running around.”

  Dodd showed them Baby's follow-up sketch of a shadowy figure freeing Morton from his noose.

  “It looks like you spared his life,” Ross said. “Maybe so he'd kill reapers for you?”

  “No reaper would ever alter a death, the punishment would be severe,” Skulton replied. “And that's not me in the drawing. I never cancelled any deaths nor did I put a hit out on any reapers.”

  “You told the Fates to disregard any future predictions of Morton's death. You said his case was just a quality assurance test.” Dodd showed them an official memo to the Fates from Skulton.

  “I called the Reaper Central Office downtown. They're sending some inspectors here right now.”

  Alarmed and confused, Skulton studied at the memo. “This is from my office, but I never wrote it nor signed it.” After a suspicious glare at Dodd, he entered a code into a keypad on his desk and the office’s heavy double doors locked with a loud click. “Graves, take them into custody.”

  Graves grabbed a large, sharp scythe from a glass case filled with medieval weaponry. Looking sick with regret, she advanced towards Ross and Dodd with the deadly farm implement.

  “You faked evidence to frame the chief?” Sappert inquired, shaking his head with bemused disbelief. “I don't need to ask Baby Fate to know your future. Or lack thereof.”

  “I don't know how or why you forged this document, but we'll just wait for the inspectors and then get to the bottom of this together,” Skulton stated.

  Suddenly, in one fluid motion, Graves swung her scythe in a wide, deadly arc that immediately decapitated Sappert. His headless body sprayed black blood and collapsed to the ground.

  Graves’s blade continued its sweeping momentum and penetrated the back of Skulton's chair, going through it and deep into Skulton, impaling him. Oily fluid gushed from Skulton as the sharp point of her scythe exploded from his thin chest.

  Skulton looked questioningly at the large blade protruding out of him, not comprehending what had just happened. Staring at Graves in confusion, he vomited black reaper serum and expired.

  Ross and Dodd could only watch in stunned horror as Graves yanked back on the scythe, causing the razor-sharp weapon to withdraw from Skulton's torso and his chair.

  “What are you doing? This isn't the way to help me!” Dodd exclaimed.

  Graves calmly wiped Skulton and Sappert’s ebony blood from her scythe. “You just had to find out about Morton, didn't you? You really forced my hand by digging up my forged memo.”

  Dodd and Ross exchanged bewildered glances. Dodd asked, “You were part of it?”

  “I'm all of it,” Graves declared. “Skulton and Sappert were only guilty of stupidity.” Checking the security monitor on the desk, she changed the view to display the reaper station lobby.

  On the screen, the lobby showed two hulking figures dressed in black hooded cloaks and armed with large swords. The ominous pair strode through the room with grim purpose.

  Graves frowned with regret. “I was hoping you were bluffing about calling Reaper Central. It looks like you piqued somebody's interest. They sent Reaper Knights here to investigate.” She typed a series of numbers into the keypad on Skulton's desk. “I'm shutting down the elevators and sealing the outer office doors. That'll buy us a few minutes before they get up here.”

  “What the hell is going on? What are you doing?” Ross asked.

  Graves replied, “We don’t have much time, those knights will be here soon. Just do as I say, we can spin this to save ourselves. But we have to get our stories straight.”

  Dodd said, “No, first you explain to us what’s going on and then we'll talk about what's next.”

  She sighed when she saw Dodd's determined expression. “You know about our station closing?”

  “The rumors?” Dodd asked.

  “Not rumors. We’re scheduled to be shut down because of declining business,” she replied.

  “Not enough people dying?” Ross inquired with more than a little sarcasm.

  “Exactly. They couldn't justify keeping our office open anymore,” Graves said.

  “So what? We'd all just be reassigned,” Dodd responded.

  “Skulton was going to retire next year and make me the new chief,” Graves announced. “But if I got sent to a new station, I'd have to start all over at the bottom. I've worked too hard to get to where I am now. I can’t go back to walking the reaper beat again. I just can’t.”

  “It sounds like you decided to prevent the shutdown of this station,” Dodd stated.

  “Yes, but I didn't know how to proceed,” she said. “Then the answer came last month. You and I practiced with our scythes in the gym and I won our duel. As per our usual bet, I had to do one of your assignments. You gave me the one on the top of your pile. That case was Morton Morday.”

  Recognition dawned on Dodd’s face. “That's where I know that name from. What happened?”

  “I was performing the case you gave me. That’s how I encountered Mr. Morday,” Graves began.

  6

  Graves picked the lock on Morton’s door with the speed and finesse of a seasoned burglar. She opened the door to find Morton standing on a chair and tying a noose to an overhead pipe.

  Unnoticed by Morton, Graves entered his apartment as he stuck his head through the noose and tightened it around his neck. She approached him with a bored expression, like this was nothing remarkable or out-of-the-ordinary. She displayed icy professionalism, not a hint of empathy.

  Though Graves stood directly in front of Morton, he remained unaware of her presence as she activated her Scythe pistol. With a disdainful sneer, Graves watched Morton begin to cry as he prepared himself to jump off the chair. She aimed her Scythe pistol at him and waited.

  “Sad, pathetic creature,” she said as tears dribbled down his cheek and snot ran from his nose.

  Morton stopped before kicking away the chair. He tilted his head to the side, listening. His eyes scanned the empty room. “Who said that? I'm not pathetic,” Morton whimpered.

  Startled, Graves slowly lowered her Scythe pistol. “Can you hear me?” she asked.

  Morton glanced about the room, still unable to see her. “Yes. Where are you? Who are you?”

  “You can really hear me?” Graves asked the suicidal man.

  “Yes. Your voice sounds really strange and scary. Are you God?” Morton replied.

  A slow, thoughtful smile appeared on Graves's face as she pondered this strange discovery. “No, but I work for Him. And I’m here to stop you from killing yourself. Do not jump off that chair.”

  Morton was unsure. “There's something wrong inside of me. I've done some very bad things.”

  “That doesn't matter, I need you,” Graves commanded him. “You must live on to serve me.”