oxo
--Dead Like Us--
Chapter Seven:
Read 'em and Reap
oxoxoxoxo
"Lenalee...can't I drive?"
"No, Lavi-- do you see a car here? How do you suppose when even make our way out of here, huh? The police are still here-- we're about as suspicious as suspicious can get..."
"But I'm older! I have seniority!"
A groan. "Your selective hearing is setting in again-- and technically, you're not."
Allen made a noise that stuck in his throat, and he blinked wearily in consciousness, his undead mind in a fog. Allen Walker found, to his immense surprise, himself staring and the retreating scenery backwards, and a strange sense of vertigo hit him. Trees weren't supposed to be upside down and bouncing away, were they?
A slight jostle made Allen squeak.
"Lenalee! The Beansprout's alive!" Came Lavi's voice.
Allen blinked. "L-Lavi...?" What had happened? There was the reap...and the attic...and then the police...He started. "Lavi! Are you alright?"
"Whoa there..." came Lavi's voice.
Allen's world tipped upside down, and his head met with the ground for the second time that night.
"Lavi!" Came Lenalee's reprimand from somewhere ahead. "Don't drop the poor boy!"
"Sorry, sorry," said Lavi, and Allen managed to right himself on the ground. "You alright?"
"Y-yeah..." Allen answered, rubbing his head where he had fallen on it. "W-what about you?"
"Huh?" Lavi asked, surprised, and jogged a little to catch up with their female companion, Allen stumbling afterward. "Oh, you mean that..." He laughed, and they half-jogged through the darkness. "I'm fine. No boo-boo's."
"How?" Allen asked.
"We may not be able to scale fifty-foot buildings in a single leap or run faster than a speeding train," laughed Lavi, coming up beside Lenalee. "But reapers never grow older than what we were when we died, and we heal faster than anything. And, of course, we can't die. Again."
"You mean...we never get older?" A nod from Lavi answered his question as Allen dropped behind the two more experienced reapers. "And we...we can't die by picket fence impalement?" A laugh and a nod this time. "Could I...have a list of these things?" Allen sighed. "They're really hard to remember."
"You get used to it," answered Lavi with a laugh. "After a while. Just remember the cardinal rule-- everyone dies. Some just... much later than others."
"We're either going to have to walk back to the Kitchen or hitch a ride..." Lenalee half-interrupted the other two's conversation.
Lavi perked up noticeably, obviously eager, and Allen watched him curiously as he literally bounced in front of the girl. "Oh! Oh, Lenalee, can't I?"
The girl sighed, stopping their progress, the trio standing in the middle of the deserted street. She finally relented grudgingly. "Alright, Lavi..."
He pumped a fist. "Yes!" His emerald eyes on fire, he scanned the street. "Look, that one-- shouldn't be too hard, and by the looks of it, no one'll miss it very much."
He pointed with a finger at an old truck-- rust-red with age and hardly a discernable piece that wasn't rusted or dented.
Allen arched an eyebrow. "Lavi, what're you going to do with that car...?" He stopped as Lavi stalked it like it was prey.
"I swear..." Lenalee sighed.
"Is he going to steal it?" Allen asked anxiously, fretting with his hands.
"The correct term is 'boosting'," said the redhead in question, from somewhere of the vicinity of the other side of the truck. "And it's a necessary evil."
But the look on Lavi's face Allen pictured made him think that it was far from unenjoyable.
After a few minutes of tinkering in the car's underside, the old truck sputtered to life, and Lavi hopped up from underneath it, oil stained, but none the worse for wear. He opened the side door and clambered into the seat, like a little boy eager to get some ice cream.
"Come on," Lenalee said, tugging on the white haired boy's sleeve.
Allen slipped into the back seat cautiously, being careful to close the door softly. It smelled like tobacco smoke and cheese, and Allen couldn't figure out what else, but he didn't like it. Lavi twisted the steering wheel violently in the front seat, making exaggerated little racecar noises, causing the old truck's tires turn and squeak in protest, unmoving. The younger reaper clutched at his seatbelt nervously, being sure to tighten it as far as it would go.
"Move over now, Lavi," demanded Lenalee, coming into the car via the driver's seat door.
Lavi blanched. "What? But, Lenalee-- you promised that I could drive!"
The girl smiled. "I said nothing of the sort. Do you even have anything resembling a driver's license?"
Allen thought that if they were indeed going to steal the car, then having a legitimate driver's license would be the least of their problems if they got pulled over, but he said nothing, deciding to keep this fact to himself.
Lavi continued to stare agape as Lenalee usurped him from his driver's seat position, and she gently pushed him out of the way and into the passenger's seat. He gave her a look akin to that same child who was just told that couldn't have his favorite kind of ice cream, and that instead they were going to grumpy grandma's house.
"You liar..." Lavi mumbled under his breath, and Allen broke a smile despite himself.
Lenalee took the steering wheel and carted them safely away, the old truck groaning a few times but moving steadily, and with the car trucking along in drive, the three reapers left Campbell without another disturbance.
-oxoxoxoxo-
The trio of Exorcists walked another two blocks as they reached town, abandoning the old rusting truck in the dark of some alleyway, and Lenalee even wrote an apology note somewhere, in case they ever found the poor car--though Lavi had advised against it-- and once again they found themselves in the fluorescent blinding light of the Komfy Kitchen.
The restaurant's door chimed as the trio stepped in, and Lavi -- redheaded gentleman that he was-- held the door for his companions, laughing his usual laugh.
Komui sat at their usual table, alone, absently stirring his coffee, pouring over his notebook.
"Chief!" Lavi raced to the table, first to slip into the booth across from Komui, the faux-leather plastic coverings squeaking as he did so. People shot him wide-eyed glances as he came into the building, his shirt still stained a crimson-red from the night's events with attics and picket fences.
Allen sidled in next to him and Lenalee took the open seat next to her brother.
"How'd it go?" Asked Komui.
"Amazing!" Lavi was the first to respond. "Dead guy, tidy reap-- loaded-- no trouble at all--"
"Until the police showed up," Lenalee interrupted, shooting Lavi a look. He shrunk a little.
"They did?" The older man's eyebrows disappeared under his beret.
"Well, yeah..." said Lavi. "But we managed!"
"You got skewered on a fence! Impaled!" Allen blurted out. "That's how you 'manage'?!"
Komui laughed with a nod to Lavi's shirt. "So that's why..."
"But did you see that getaway?" Lavi whooped, jumping up a little in his seat. "At least fifty cops on our tail, sirens blaring-- valiantly, I tried to get them off, feeling the power of that Camero in my hands, swerving traffic and Lenalee was wailing away--"
"I was not!"
Lavi ignored her. "--and then there was an explosion, and--"
He couldn't help it. Despite his shock and dismay at the night's events, as Lavi recounted that night's embellished harrowing events and fabricated car chase, Allen began to laugh. It wasn't his stifled chuckle or dry forced bark, but the kind of laugh that rolls and keeps you in stitches.
Lenalee paused in her efforts to keep Lavi's story straight, and looked to in Allen surprise, but then her face broke, and she smiled-- a very different smile than the small polite ones that she gave.
"...and the zoo blew up-- monkeys everywhere, but they're fine, I reckon-- and the police still on our-- hey...hey Beansprout, why're you laughing?"
"I'm...sorry," Allen managed in between chuckles. "I really...don't know why I find this so funny...!" He collapsed into more laughter.
Lavi blinked, confused for a moment, and then his own face spilt into a wide grin, and he shoved Allen gently, playfully, and Allen continued to chuckle.
"I'm glad you are...getting used to our line of work," chuckled Komui as Allen's laughter began to fade. "Because, well..."
He pulled out his notebook, and from the inside cover, he peeled off something yellow and square and sticky, and pushed it across the table at the boy.
The smile slid off Allen's face. "This...is mine?"
Komui nodded, examining the other's face closely, the boy's eyes only on the post-it.
Allen looked up, his face crestfallen, brow knit with worry. His heart had yet again fallen into his stomach. "Why...I mean...Already? I thought..." He trailed off.
Komui gave him a look over his glasses. "Death, like Time, waits for no man. Sit down. Think. I'll be here to pick you up for your appointment tomorrow morning, Allen. Don't be late."
At that, he picked up his things and scooted out of the booth, giving Lenalee a meaningful glance as she got up to allow him passage out.
And Komui was gone.
Allen carefully picked up the post-it, handling it as if it might rear back and bite, or, reversely, shatter at his touch.
Lavi and Lenalee conversed awkwardly to fill the silence setting in, but their talking fell deaf on Allen's ears.
The boy's fingers traced the name written on the piece of paper-- the yellow death sentence-- and mouthed his victim's name softly as his companions spoke over him. L. Loneth. An initial and a last name. The rest of the post-it was all numbers and places, but Allen could not read past the name.
Time passed. Eternity seemed to yawn in front of him, a daunting and uncertain future. Allen waited, slumped in his seat.
Lavi and Lenalee got up to leave at quarter to eleven.
"C'mon Beansprout, time to go home," Lavi said, pushing the other boy out of the booth, but Allen only stood up and let him go, saying, "I'm just...going to stay here for a moment, alright? I'll catch up."
Lavi looked at him, hesitating for a moment, but then relented. "Alright, Beansprout. Just be sure to remember the way home."
He nodded, and Lavi and Lenalee left the café.
Allen, of course, did not return to the apartment, nor did he sleep at all that night. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and feelings, an incessant battle of good and evil.
Was it right? His thoughts tightened themselves into knots, twisting and writhing like snakes in a pit.
Morning found him still at the booth, his head on the table-- nothing but a cup of untouched tea that Reever had brought him, worried, at one in the morning.
By then, his post-it had been memorized. He had come up with a dozen deaths L. Loneth could die. He had made up a thousand lives for him.
Even though Allen did not know the man, he already mourned for him.
Komui appeared at seven till seven, and Allen blearily looked up as he joined the boy.
"Have a good sleep?" He asked, and Allen nodded absently. "Right. To the car now, we mustn't be late."
Komui's car was not sleek, or pale, like Death's steed should be, but a compact kind of car, a deep blue in color, but Allen paid little attention to the design of it. He resigned himself to the passenger's seat with little gusto, and Komui slid in next to him, taking the keys from his pocket.
The car rumbled to life with a turn of the keys, and it coasted along the busy side streets and intersections with ease. Allen did not notice so much; his eyes were still glued to the post-it.
A few moments ofsilent tensiongave way to Komui's voice.
"I remember," Komui said, breaking Allen out of his thoughts, and lifting the cloud of tension temporarily. Allen jumped a little, turning to the bespectacled man. "I remember Lenalee's first one. It was...a girl, barely older than Lenalee herself. The poor girl had been in the hospital most of her life." Komui's expression remained fixed. "Lenalee was heartbroken. But the girl had been suffering for so long...it was kind of Death to come. She died peacefully."
The white-haired boy said nothing, and he made no movement.
Silence was broken only by the sounds of cars outside, by traffic noises, and city-goings. A red light stopped them momentarily. Allen vaguely began to wonder what Lavi and Lenalee were doing to pass their time that day when Komui decided to speak again.
"You have to understand, Allen," Komui began again. "Death is not nearly as chaotic as you think it is. Everything has a place. Death has categories, and I feel obligated to inform you of yours before you take a soul-- your charges are the same as your death. Outside influences; it's the broadest category. Accidents, murders-- they fall to you. There's a rhyme and reason to our madness, even though our madness is something even I don't quite understand..."
Allen blinked, looking back down, and he fingered the post-it. So L. Loneth's death was to be an accident? Something that could be avoided?
"It's hard," Komui said with a little smile, as if he understood Allen's grimace perfectly well. "We're human too. Sometimes I wonder if some great force erred in making Death the same as its charges."
"What if...what if there's a mistake?" Allen asked.
Komui didn't respond. The red light turned green, and there was no more opportunity to speak. Allen didn't bother to instigate conversation again, and Komui must've felt that everything that had to be had already been said. The pit in Allen's stomach grew tighter with every passing street corner, and just when he thought it too much to bear, Komui abruptly turned left, and he pulled into a dirt parking lot.
A construction zone.
"Here we are," Komui killed the engine. "Go forth and reap."
Allen looked to him. "You're...you're not coming?"
"This is an Exorcist's job," the older man replied. "It's not mine. You'll do fine-- you've watched Lavi, and though he's about the most inefficient reaper on our team, he's about as good as any to learn the ropes from. Remember to stay on the periphery. You've got ten minutes."
Allen gulped. Without another word, he opened the car door, slammed it shut behind him, and walked out in the construction zone.
"Allen!" Komui called from the open window, and he stopped short. "Remember-- we don't kill. We save."
Allen stopped a moment, paused on one leg while the other hovered hesitantly in front of him. Something warm began in his chest, and the snakes in his stomach calmed. The boy flashed a small brave smile backwards, but his voice was weak and cracked as he spoke.
"Right."
Immediately, as he entered through the chain-link fence, the smell of dirt and steel and sweat hit him, and the bustle of the site allowed Allen to slip in undetected.
Dust was kicked up as he walked; jackhammers roared, iron and other metal lay in strips and sheets and bars to one side. A sign announcing that the area was a "Restricted Hard-Hat Danger Zone" was posted on a fence that separated the dusty parking lot from the hazardous fenced-in construction zone.
He scoffed a little inwardly at that-- someone was going to die, with or without a hard hat.
Allen looked around: no one seemed to notice his presence in this place in which he obviously didn't belong. A few early-morning workers roamed, their hats yellow, their clothes uniformly hunter-orange.
Allen, as newly designated Exorcist, blinked, standing in the middle of it, clutching a sticky note that had lost most of its sticky. How was he to find this L. Loneth? He couldn't just go up to every person on the site, asking them what their last names were.
What was the word Komui had used? Periphery. He must stay on the periphery.
Images of Mr. Grim Reaper himself with his scythe and black cloak crept into Allen's mind, and in that moment he felt a pang of compassion towards Death, creeping in the shadows and stalking his charges.
"Oi!" Someone called, and Allen jumped up, his frayed nerves already on edge. Quickly, he whirled around, half-hoping that it was someone come to tell him off, and that this death-hunt would not take place. But his heart sank as the big burly man who had spoken opened his mouth again.
"John Russell-- is that Leo Loneth, there, too?!-- a construction zone, really...This is no playground! Where is your father?"
Allen followed the man's gaze-- this was it! This was his mysterious L. Loneth!-- and then his insides clenched painfully.
Two boys-- on brown-haired, the other lighter-- froze as they were caught.
"Dad said we could investigate a little!" whined the brown-haired boy, scooting in closer to his friend. The boy wore something that looked much like an aviator's hat in place of a hard hat. He was young, perhaps only twelve or thirteen. The other boy looked just as young. "Dad's the boss-- if he says that we can look around, then we can!
"I don't care about your father, John, if you don't get back here..." the burly man said through gritted teeth, taking no heed to the boy's warning.
Allen licked his dry lips. If the dark-haired boy was John...the blond must be Leo.
Leo Loneth.
Of all his scenarios, Allen had never imaged that it would be a little boy. He was hardly old enough to have started living his life.
Suddenly, the post-it felt like incriminating evidence against him, sullying his fingers. Allen let it drop. It made no noise as it hit the ground, but to Allen, it felt as if the anchor of weight that had resided in the incriminating post-it had jumped into his chest instead of falling with the little yellow paper.
Had Allen been watching the clock, he would have observed that it was eight-twenty-seven, and that it was exactly twenty-three seconds before his charge was to expire. But he was not, and the seconds counted down.
The man and the boy continued to shout at each other, the older man's voice strong against the small boy's as he argued that his father had given them permission, and the blond Leo shrank backwards, looking as guilty and frightened as Allen felt. But another voice cut through the dusty construction zone, much louder than the brown-haired boy and the burly construction worker.
"Watch out!"
There was a snap of cable, the heart-wrenching adrenaline-pumping groan of metal scraping against metal, and a cement tube came crashing downwards from the very top of the structure which they were working on.
Below, the children stood.
Leo Loneth did not move. He hadn't the time. His friend-- the boy named John-- yelled something, but Allen didn't hear, and neither did Leo.
Allen didn't think. Allen didn't stop to ponder his choice in actions.
What echoed in his head were Komui's last words.
We save.
And he leapt into the fray, knocking the boy-who-was-to-die over on his feet, narrowly avoiding the falling pillar of concrete.
As the dust settled and the astonished voices and screams faded away, he could hear the breathing of someone who was not supposed to be alive cradled in his arms, and Allen knew he had done something that would be considered a "no-no" in reaper etiquette.
He had saved someone from dying.
--End. Seven.--