Chadpocalypse - 2:3 Don't Fear the Reaper

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2:3 Don’t Fear the Reaper

Chad stepped out into the cool, clear afternoon, shivering as the wind whipped under his burlap sack. “I know we’ve still got the whole apocalypse thing to worry about, but can we make a pit stop on the way to and get me some clothes?” he asked. Winter in Midway was never pleasant, but the combined elements of his sweaty, mostly-naked body and the scratchy burlap rubbing against it, made it worse. Every movement brought a wave of wracking chills. The cold concrete stuck to his feet with every step as they made their way across the garden path.

     “I suppose The Lord would allow us a break to keep you from freezing to death.” Joe looked at the angel, expecting a response, but none came.

     Jordan was pre-occupied, the cold, afternoon light glowing in his unearthly eyes. He ran a hand over his suit, pressing out some wrinkle none of the others could see. Every few seconds he would look up at the sky expectantly, but then return his gaze to Earth, muttering.

     James, uncomfortable with most things divine left a few paces between himself and the angel. “The car’s got heat at least,” he added. “And it’s a bit nicer than the Buick.”

     Joe recoiled at the mention of his old car. “The Buick served me well.”

     Eyes raked over Chad’s strange appearance as people passed them on the sidewalk. He was used to judgment, but something felt different, like the air wasn’t right. Chad took a deep breath, smelling the familiar odors of pavement, concrete and piss that Midway was known for, but another scent lingered. It was a hint of something awful that burned his nostrils and set off alarm bells in the back of his brain. Chad’s heart raced, but he was unable to put a finger on why. “Sooner we get off the street, the better.”

     “Agreed.” James eyed the pedestrians warily. “I don’t like to stay in this part of Midway for long. Plus, we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

     “Oh?” asked Chad as a lightning bolt of pain shot behind his eyes. He shielded them against the bright light of the sun, wishing he had more of the boozy coffee from the demon to ease his suffering.

     “Turns out the apocalypse doesn’t rest just because its champion is missing,” replied Joe.

     “Yes,” mused Jordan, speaking for the first time since they had left the shop. “I suspect Hell was quite pleased when you disappeared.”

     Chad laughed. “And here I was thinking no one would notice.”

      “Did you know this was happening?” Joe asked the angel. “The apocalypse I mean.”

     Jordan sighed. “The wager is as old as time, and this is the final test. I didn’t have express knowledge, but when the seven seals started appearing, I had my suspicions.”

     “Seven seals?” asked Chad. It sounded like some divine bullshit, but he couldn’t be sure. The last time he had opened a Bible was to tear its pages out and use them as a weapon.   

     “You know? White horse, red horse, black horse?” Jordan was distracted.

     “Well, that sounds like it would make a fine children’s book, but I’m not sure how it helps us.” Chad was beginning to grow annoyed with the angel’s presence. If he was supposed to be a messenger of God, why wasn’t he helping?

     “I’m not allowed any direct interference, you see?” Jordan answered as if reading Chad’s mind. “It’s part of the divine pact. Neutrality and all.”

     Joe was staring at him with heavenly admiration, miles away from the current conversation. “You’re a real angel then?” he asked with a tone of holy reverence Chad had not seen in his short time knowing the man. If only for a second, there was a glimpse of why Joe had become a priest in the first place.

     “The real item.” Jordan sniffed at the air. “Do you all smell that?”

     Chad caught the whiff of something foul again. “I do.”

     James smelled the air experimentally. “Only thing I smell is Chad. We need to get you a change and a shower.”

     Chad ignored James. “What is it?”

     Jordan’s eyes were wide with fear. “It’s the smell that precedes Death.” As he said it, a young man in a hoodie with large headphones walked by, keeled over and began convulsing on the sidewalk. “Oh dear, and to think I usually I love being right.”

     “Guys, I’ve got that feeling again.” Chad touched his fingertips to his thumbs, noting the sensation of skin on skin, trying to ground himself in the moment. He looked around for the angry little cherub that had accompanied his last LSD trip and couldn’t spot him. “And I don’t think I’m tripping this time either.”

The man continued to convulse on the pavement, foaming at the mouth, and then fell suddenly still. Chad looked down the street toward the intersection. The traffic light blazed red, but the color was draining from the scene like someone was sucking it up with a straw. There was a whispering, ripping noise as the fabric of the universe split open for a moment, torn by a scythe, and a bone-white mare galloped out of the space between worlds.

     Chad looked on at the horseman that was Death with absolute terror. His vital functions were secondary to fear and he felt frozen to the spot. The horse itself was white with black features as if it had been drawn with a sketcher’s pencil. The figure sitting atop it was the same, garbed in various ornate cloaks with a parted hood to reveal a skeletal face. It was impossible to tell for sure, but Chad thought a smile touched the glistening, white teeth.

     “That’s not good for you.” Jordan put a hand on Chad’s shoulder and warmth spread from where his fingers touched. “You’re going to want to run now.”

     Chad was rooted to the spot, staring at the horseman. The black eye sockets illuminated with white fire as the creature turned its attention to chad. Holding out a bony finger and pointing straight at him, the horseman said: “Hello, Chad.” The sound of its voice filled the street, like ancient stones grinding together and shaking the foundations of the world.

     “And here I was believing you didn’t collect souls personally anymore,” said Jordan, stepping between them. Then, under his breath whispered: “I said run.”

     “I thought you couldn’t help me,” answered Chad in a daze.

     “Not directly. Luckily, an audit of this death is within my purview. I can keep him busy for a minute, but you need to go, now.”

     The horseman was already approaching, each hoofbeat shaking the pavement. “I don’t think there’s anything in the rules says I can’t help out the wonderful corporation of Death. It does bear my name after all.” He brandished his shining scythe, the brilliant edge capturing the sun’s light and holding it in the sheen of the blade.

     James tugged on Chad’s burlap. “Let’s not argue with the angel and get out of here.”

     “We can’t just leave him,” said Joe.

     “I’ll still want to make sure it’s up to code of course,” replied Jordan to the horseman, ignoring them.

     The horseman sneered.

     “Would hate to get Upstairs involved.” Jordan kicked a heel backward and hit Joe in the shin. “This audit isn’t going to take very long. Run now and run fast.”

     “Thank you,” said Chad, still staring at the horseman with disbelief.

     “Stop the apocalypse. That can be your thanks.”

     “What are you whispering to them? Tell them not to move, I’ve got business with the naked one.” The pale horse snorted impatiently and the horseman reached down to pat it.

     “Of course.” Jordan pulled out a clipboard. “But we’ve got business to attend to first.”

     Joe took a last, pained look at the angel and then the three of them fled.