The Grim Reaper's Dance

VanDiepenbos and found out things that had almost gotten her killed.

“I think I’ll take my chances somewhere else.”

The cop car was gone, so she began walking, heading toward the outskirts of town. She crossed a railroad track, an abandoned factory, and a new and unfinished development, and in about a half hour she was traveling along fields of corn. Miles and miles of it standing tall and golden, just waiting for harvest.

Death had deserted her long before, having tired of the walking. Of the boredom of it. Casey had said so long, glad to be rid of the incessant rubber band twanging. Besides, she was furious that Death had taken Evan and didn’t even seem sorry about it.

She walked several more miles, seeing only two vehicles the entire time, then angled into the cornfield, pushing across rows, the leaves scratchy, smacking her face. She found a place about a quarter mile in where a patch of grassy weeds had grown, brown now, like the corn, but soft, and mostly dry. She eased to the ground, her neck stiff, her shoulder throbbing, and lay flat on her back. She thought about pulling those crackers and cookies out of her pocket, but it seemed like too much effort. Instead, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to relax. A train whistle drifted across the fields, accompanying the clouds, and she gradually sank deeper into the weeds. She knew she shouldn’t sleep, not with her concussion, and she didn’t figure she would, not with the image of Evan begging her not to let them have it, whatever it was, but it couldn’t hurt to close her eyes for a few minutes. She was so tired…

She fell asleep so quickly she didn’t even notice when Death chopped an armful of grass and tucked it under her head, like a pillow.

Chapter Three

“You really shouldn’t be so crabby with me,” Death said. “It’s not all my fault, you know. The farmers were out awfully early.”

It was true. As soon as the sun had given even a hint of morning light the tractors were in the fields. Not Casey’s field of residence, so she wasn’t afraid of getting run over, but the harvesters were close enough she had no hope of getting back to sleep. But she wasn’t blaming the farmers. “You’re the one who woke me up a million times during the night.”

Death nodded. “Every two hours. That’s what they say about concussions.”

“Or what? I’ll die? Certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.” It was, in fact, what Casey had wanted ever since Death had taken her husband and baby, almost a year before. Death, however, had other ideas.

Death chucked Casey under the chin. “And who says you’re not a morning person?”

Casey swished Death’s hand away and stomped along the road, back into town. She made a breakfast of the hospital food as she walked, and while it wasn’t exactly her normal fare, it at least got her stomach to stop cramping. She ran her fingers through her hair, re-tied it into a ponytail, and hoped she didn’t look too much like she’d spent the night in a cornfield.

“You know,” Death said, “you’ve looked better.”

Casey, giving in to her baser nature, held up her middle finger.

Death kept quiet after that.

But really, where was she even going? Casey stopped suddenly, taking a deep breath. If she went back to town the most likely thing to happen would be that someone would notice her, the cops would find her, and she’d end up in jail for what had happened in Clymer. She should turn around. She should get as far as she could from this town, from the truck accident, and from anyone who could connect her with it.

But Evan’s last request, his last breath, was to plead with her not to let them get it. Whatever it was. And whoever they were. Could she turn her back on a dying man’s plea? A man who could no longer act for himself?

She stood at the side of the road, her thoughts in turmoil.

“So what’s it going to be?” Death asked. “You know what they teach in school: Safety First.”

Casey laughed without humor. “I am so, so far beyond safety. And I’m not sure I could…”

“What?”

“I don’t think I could live with myself if I let them win.”

“But you don’t even know who them is.”

“No. But Evan did. And he begged me to help.”

Death turned and continued walking toward town.

“Where are you going?”

“Where you’re headed. To find out who killed Evan, and to keep them from getting what they wanted.”

Death knew her too well.

Blue Lake Gas and Go was open this time, and three men in dark blue coveralls stood in one of the bays, laughing. They stopped abruptly when Casey walked in, their expressions ranging from boredom to curiosity to shock.

Death chuckled. “Well, aren’t they just the sweetest things?”

Casey took a step away from Death, who stood so close Casey could feel the dropping temperature. “They should know where the cops took the truck.”

“They should.”

“Um, can we help you?” the bored mechanic asked.

“I hope so. Where would a damaged semi be taken?”

He blinked, and took so long answering she thought she should repeat the question. Finally, he spoke. “I’d say Wainwrights’ Scrap Metal. Sound right to you guys?”

The curious mechanic nodded. “I guess. How bad was it?” He looked at Casey’s blood-splattered clothes.

“The truck wasn’t running anymore. Cab wasn’t even…wasn’t even in one piece.”

“Oh. That wreck out on the highway? Guy died?”

“That was the one.”

“Yeah, I’d say Wainwrights’, then. Metal recycling and junk yard. You think?” He looked at the shocked mechanic, who still stood with his mouth hanging open. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and nodded, only to return to his dope-like state.

“Okay.” Casey gestured toward the road. “How do I get there?”

The bored man scratched his chin. “Few miles from here. Town doesn’t have public transportation. At least not to speak of.”

“I’ll take her.” Mr. Curious. “That is, if you guys can spare me.”

Bored Guy rolled his eyes. “Take the rest of the day, if you want. Then I don’t have to pay you.”

“Hey, now. I’ll be back soon. Don’t want you trying to run this place on your own.”

The bored guy showed some emotion at that, snapping the other with a greasy rag.

“Okay, um, Wendell.” Casey could just read the name on the patch sewed onto the curious man’s coveralls. “You ready?”

Wendell dodged away from the rag and grabbed a ring of keys off the wall. “Come on. I’ll take you in my truck.”

Like Casey wanted to get in another truck. The pick-up he indicated might not have been a semi, but it was enough to cause her to shudder. She hesitated by the passenger door while Wendell got in his side.

“Second thoughts?” Death sat on the hood, twanging that awful rubber band. Casey hoped it would break, and snap Death’s fingers.

“Of course I have second thoughts.”

“You know, someday you’re going to have to get over it.”

Casey inhaled deeply through her nostrils, telling herself it would do no good, trying to beat up Death. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was in another fatal accident yesterday.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. I just know how to compartmentalize my feelings.”