Bones and Cogsworth 2

“I smell death.” Death said, pausing on the street, his shoulders tense.

Time leaned forward and sniffed his jacket, “So do I.  When was the last time you washed this?”

Death lifted his arm and gave him a hearty punch in the stomach.  “Shut up.  I’m serious, someone is dying.”  A shiver went through him and he smiled, “Slowly and painfully, just the way I like it.”  He turned and looked at the house on their right.  A door obscured in shadows stood, paint peeling, at the top of the stairs in front of them.  As Death looked at it he could see it pulsating, the feel of death pouring out of it. “It’s a Suicidal.” He did a joyous little hop and started up the stairs, “Cogs, this is the best day ever!”

Time stood on the pavement and shook his head, “Can this wait? We’ve got things to do. Just come back later.”

Death shook his head, “No my friend, I can’t do that. Normal, ordinary old deaths are fine; I’ll pass those up any day, sure.  But this is a suicide.”
“This is New York,” Time flipped the hair out of his eyes, “I bet there were three suicide attempts just in the last ten blocks.”

“There were four, actually, but this one is different. Can’t you just taste how much this person wants to die?  It’s palpable. You could cut it with a- a…”

“Scythe?”

Death barked out a laugh, “Yeah, that’d do.”  With a gloved hand he reached out and shook the door knob back and forth.  The door swung open, letting light into an otherwise gloomy space.

Time sighed exaggeratedly, his shoulders drooping in a pathetic sort of way.  After waiting a long moment, he too walked to the door and stepped inside.

Death lead the way through the trash strewn condo, hoping over unwashed plates and bowls as if in a meadow, even the smell of rotting food going unnoticed by him in his mood.  He danced past a pile of old clothing and hurtled over a dusty wooden chair.  An orange tabby cat meowed apprehensively at him from the rug in the dining room and he stopped to wave warmly at it, calling it ‘Puss’ and saying he would get it some boots when this was all over.

Time made his way slowly through the refuse, trying not to gag as he past a row of garbage bags that sat collecting flies.  The cat meowed at him as well, but he could only bring himself to nod at it, the usual depression coming over him that did when someone’s time was ending.  He looked to the stairs, dark wooden things that were littered with crumbs and cat hair, and watched as Death ran his way up them two at a time, leaving a trail of dead bugs and dust in his wake. 

“Could you speed it up?” He called down, waving an arm impatiently,  “We don’t all have an infinite amount of time on our hands.”

“Why don’t I just stay down here?”  Time looked around for an excuse not to move from his spot, “I could…I could keep the cat company.”

Death stared at him, appalled.  “What? What?  Who are you?  What the hell is wrong with you?  A very sad, empty woman is dying alone on the bathroom floor and you don’t want to watch?” He leaned against the handrail, one hand on his hip, “Are you on your period or something?  Do you have cramps you cat- loving, romance novel- reading, Dr. Phil- quoting woman? Get up here!”

Time stared at his feet a moment before looking up and narrowing his eyes at Death, shaking his head angrily.  As he stared, the handrail Death was leaning on began to rust and decay underneath him. “I’m glad you not an asshole.” He said as the rail gave way and Death went crashing down onto the stairs.  Time walked past him to the second floor landing and looked back in disgust, “Because then I would really hate you sometimes.”


“She’s a wreck.”

Death came into the bathroom and looked down at the ragged form laying unconscious on the tile floor, and nodded in agreement.  “The Titanic.”

Time turned away, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.  This was why he hated suicides, because every victim, no matter how alive they were before Death took them, had already died inside, the light in their eyes having been diminished long ago. 

“Look at her,” said Death in fascination. He knelt beside her. “She’s… perfect.”
Time felt sick.  He couldn’t look at the woman, couldn’t stand the stench of her home any longer. He wanted to go.  He shot an angry glance at Death. 

Perfect.

That’s just the sort of thing he would think, twisted as he was. It was one thing to call her a wreck, though she was more than that. Death hadn’t even touched her but she was already decaying, the skin seeming to melt off her face from years of alcohol abuse and drug addiction. True, saying she was a wreck was somewhat akin to saying that pigs are cleanly, or that Michael Jackson is handsome, but saying she was perfect…

“Just do it would you?” He said, careful to keep his eyes on the ground, “We’ve got other things to do.”

“Like what?” Death snapped back, “Find Little Miss Runaway?  Right.  Give it a rest, would ya? I’m working here.” 

The woman made a hoarse little groan and shifted her head.  Both men froze and stared at her in horror, unable to move as she looked up at them through yellow eyes.  She found Death kneeling beside her and slowly a grin spread across her face.“Took you long enough…”

Death blinked a few times, his head slowly tilting to one side as he stared at the woman, mouth agape. “Ha.  HA!”  He turned to Time excitedly and laughed, pointing at the woman as if to say, ‘Get a load of this chick, huh?’
Time ignored him and turned to the woman, kneeling down in front of her and staring into her face, utterly confused.

She stared back at him with a bemused, half conscious look that made him nervous, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you boys.”

“Why,” Time stuttered, shaking his head, “Why can you see us?”

She thought for a moment, “Am I not supposed to?”

Death barked out a laugh again and sat back on the floor, hands out behind him, “Baby, people only see us when we want them to.”

The woman’s eyes focused in and out for a minute, then she shook her head at them, a dry laugh escaping her throat. The laugh quickly turned into a hacking cough and she leaned forward, unable to get a hand to her mouth, and coughed into her knees.  When she fell back again there was blood at the corner of her mouth.
Time took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the blood gently.  The woman watched him and smirked at him, her grayish teeth showing behind cracked lips. “You nice to everybody?” she asked.

“Only people he feels sorry for.” Death replied, crossing his legs out in front of him.

Time put the handkerchief back in his pocket and reached for the woman’s arm. There was still a bottle clasped in her hands, an orange one filled with prescription sleeping pills. There were 3 more by her feet, and another on the sink.  There was a bottle of gin at her side.

He stared at her a long time in awe, unable to do anything but shake his head and look confused.  Apparently this woman had brought herself so close to death that she could see its human form.  “How- how are you still alive?” He stuttered, holding her by the shoulders and  staring deep into her eyes, “You’ve taken 100’s of these pills, why aren’t you dead already?” 

She looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged, another goofy grin lighting up her face.  Without thinking, Time turned his head accusingly toward his companion.

“What?” Death started involuntarily and looked away from the two of them. “Stop looking at me like I’ve done something wrong.”  His eyes flickered over the sink, the shower curtain, the empty pill bottles, anywhere but at Time’s face.  He swallowed uncomfortably and cleared his throat, his upper teeth pulling at his lip.

Time stood up, his eyes on the floor, and shook his head slowly back and forth in complete disgust.  “Oh my God…”

“Well,” Death said, a little too loudly, “No use sitting here all day, might as well get this over with, huh?”  He got into a crouching position began to take his gloves off.  “If you’ll just place your hands in mine, madam, you’ll be on your way to where ever in no time.”

The woman squinted at him, “You mean you don’t know where I’ll go?”

He smiled, “Oh no, I know.  I just can’t tell you.”

“I see,” with a great effort she lifted her hands, ready to put them in his, “It’s just as well really.  I don’t care either way. Take me anywhere.”

         “Don’t,” said Time suddenly, his eyes still on his feet. 

Death shot a quick warning glance at him.  ' What?'

With a sigh, the woman lowered her hands back onto her lap and stared at him, “Don’t what, young man? Don’t do it?  Don’t give in to death?  Don’t turn my back on the life I have? I’ll- .”

“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” said Time impatiently, crouching back down beside her.  “Don’t let him take you in this condition. It’s exactly what he wants.” He pointed an accusing finger at Death, but refused to look at him.

Death slowly turned his head toward him, seriousness in his eyes that he hadn’t seen for centuries.  “Can’t you see this woman wants to die?  Her bell has tolled, why are you trying to talk her out of it?”

“You should have died hours ago.” Time said, taking the woman’s hands out in his own, “But he kept you alive, he left you here this whole time, almost dead, until he could come here and see you for himself.  He’s a sick, twisted man, and you can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you die like this.”

Death waved a hand as if to dismiss him, “Psh, listen to him, huh?  What a crock.  I mean Jesus; could any one person get more mental?  I’m here because-“

“Stop,” the woman stared at them in as stern a way as her weakness would allow,
 
“Stop bickering.  Your voices make me anxious,” she sighed, “Do you two always fight when you come to kill people?”

Death rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and leaned back again.  His bare hands touched the floor for the first time and the tile underneath them began to grow black, cracking and turning slowly to dust as he sat.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” said the woman, “I know your kind. I had four boys of my own, and I know feigned exasperation when I see it.”  Slowly, she turned her head to face Time and gave him a much softer look. “It’s very sweet of you dear, trying to talk me out of this. Or it would be if I knew you were saying these things for my sake,  but that’s not the case, is it?  You don’t want me to die because you figure it will cause him grief if I don’t,” she nodded at Death, whose hands were quickly turning the floor to so much porcelain dust. “Son, I honestly don’t care if this man gets his jollies from seeing me die.  It doesn’t bother me that he thinks I’m so pathetic that he had to come here in person.  Maybe I am that pathetic. Honestly, if I wasn’t, I don’t think I’d be sitting here.”

“See,” said Death with a sniff, “the old goat agrees with me.  Just let her die.”

Time shook his head and grabbed her hands, “It’s not right. It’s disgusting, he’s disgusting.  And you don’t have to die this way.”

She tilted her head at him, leaning forward slightly, “Why shouldn’t I?  Give me a reason.”

Time sighed and looked out the window. Through the grime of it he could see the top of the building across the street.  A row of pigeons sat fluttering their wings and cooing on the ledge.  He watched them for a minute, letting his whole body fall onto the floor.

He always did this with suicidals. Whenever he got the chance to talk to one- on the subway or in the park- he would do whatever was in his power to get them to rethink their decision.  That made him a sap in his world, but Time could never understand why someone would actually choose to visit Death early.  He thought that if they saw how Death really was, they would never ask to see him again.  If he could only show this woman what it was like…

“The- there is so much more out there,” he began, looking back at her, “than you could ever imagine. It can’t all be bad.  It can’t all cause you pain.  Chances are, if you looked, you would find something, somewhere that could make you happy. Don’t you think?  You just- just need to get out of here, out of this apartment and go somewhere.  Out of the state or the country, and find somewhere that doesn’t remind you at all of this place, and just… stay there.”

The woman smiled weakly at him, her hands still clasped in his.  With an effort, she sat up and leaned in very close to him, “You are a very good man, if that’s what you are.  You probably have more optimism than everyone in New York combined. But,” she took a deep shuddering breath, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

         Death laughed loudly, hammering his fist on the floor. Time scowled at him.

         She patted Time’s hands in apology, “I don’t mean to make you angry, but you have to understand son, it isn’t going to matter what I do, how far away I go.  I could take the next plane half way around the world and never look back at this dump, but it wouldn’t matter.  Leaving isn’t going to stop me from being unhappy, it isn’t going to make me forget all the terrible things that have happened.  Look at me son, believe me. My unhappiness is inside of me.  I will always be unhappy no matter where you put me, and that is my fault. No one can help me anymore.  Not even
you.”

“You- you,” Time couldn’t find the words, he shook his head, “you’re a good person.  You shouldn’t die. Good people should never die this way.”

This time she laughed at him, “Honey, you have no idea who I am, or what I’ve done.  You have no reason to have any faith in me at all, other than that you’re a better person than me.”  He motioned to interrupt her, but she shook her head to stop him, trying to take another ragged breath.

Time suddenly felt a strange coldness in her hands, something that hadn’t been there before.  He looked down at her fingers and found that they were turning a sickening shade of blue. She began making horrible gasping noises and he looked back up at her face, watching as she stared around herself, eyes wide with horror.  She kept opening her mouth to take a breath, but her throat had closed up, all the muscles in her neck tightening, strangling her. She lifted her hands to her throat, coughing and gasping for air.

“Hey-!”Time reached out to her, trying to get a good look at her eyes.  “Hey, breathe, breathe!” 

The woman’s lips were slowly turning a dull shade of purple.  She looked at him in shock, her hands shaking uncontrollably in his. She shook her head at him and fell back against the tub.

         Time looked at Death with pleading eyes, “What are you doing? Stop it!”

         Death, startled, looked around him, “I don’t know! I’m not doing it on purpose!”  For the first time he noticed the floor beneath him had been blackened, cracks running from his hands to every corner of the room.  He lifted up his hands and followed the trail of cracks to where the woman sat.  “Oh, shit.”

         Time screamed in frustration and turned back to the woman. She was looking at him with the same terrified look as before, but he could see immediately that there was no longer any light in her eyes. He took her up in his arms and shook her, pleading with her to conscious, to stay alive.  But her body flailed under his grip, her head falling backward, all muscle tension gone.           

There was a moment of stunned silence, both men staring, mouths open, at the woman’s dead form. 

“She’s… dead.” said Death, looking alternately from his hands, to her pale face. 

“YOU THINK?” Time screamed, still holding her tight against him, “I wonder how the fuck that happened!”

“Hey, look, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to do it.  I’ve never killed anybody that way before.”

Time closed his eyes and tried to get a hold of himself. She was going to die soon anyway, he thought desperately, if not today, then soon. It’s good, it’s a good thing.  She’s in a better place now...  She’s happy now.  After a moment, he let go of the woman and placed her gently back where she had been sitting. Then, with what seemed like all of his strength, he stood up and walked slowly toward the door and took a deep breath. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.” He looked back at Death with what he hoped was indifference.  “And put you gloves on, so you don’t kill anyone else on the way.”

Death hopped to his feet, “Hey,” he said, catching Time by the arm as he entered the hallway, “I’m sorry, alright? But she was gonna die whether you were nice to her or not.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.  She was a really sick broad.” Death looked down at his feet, his hand still holding Time still, “Look,” he said, “If you want… I’ll let you save her soul.”

Time tried to shrug out of his grasp, “She doesn’t need it.  She was a good person.”  He looked up once at the ceiling, watching as a light over his head flickered on and off.  Then, with a deep breath, he broke away from Death and trudged down the stairs.

At the bottom of the steps he was greeted once again with the sight of squalor, a smell like rotting filling his nostrils.  He tried his best to keep his eyes on the floor, not looking to either side for fear of seeing something even more disgusting.  On his left, he heard the dainty footsteps of the cat coming towards him.  He looked down and watched as it rubbed its matted body up against his leg and purred.  It was a skinny thing, weak and neglected. 

He looked up the stairs again to see if Death was coming yet. He wasn’t.  Without another thought, Time picked up the cat, placed it under his arm, and walked out the door.