Don stared at the computer screen. The machine that had given him so much solace and comfort in the last few years had suddenly betrayed him, by no fault of its own. The name on the screen read Ashley Grant.
Thinking hard, Don tried to remember if he knew or had heard of anyone named Ashley Grant. He didn't think he had, not even on the news or the internet. She was a complete stranger. Next to her name was a number two. Don wished the book hadn't been so vague.
"So do I have two days or two hours to find her?" He wondered out loud. Picking up the book again, he flipped through it for sheer curiosity. Right under the wish for happy hunting, was a new sentence:
Numbers indicate days, stupid.
Don shut the book and set it back on his desk. Well that answered that. He had two days – nights, really – to find a girl he had never met in his life, and then what? Walk up to her and introduce himself as the Grim Reaper? That would go over real easy. And hey, wasn't he supposed to get a scythe in the deal?
Glancing back at the computer screen, the turtle noticed that the name and number had disappeared and returned to his normal screensaver. Just to be sure, he pulled a pad of paper out and wrote them down before he forgot, and slid it back into the drawer.
He hopped into the computer chair, hoping to do a search for Ashley Grant. He tried every resource he could think of, even hacking into hospital computer systems, but there was no trace of her. Again the thought that this was a prank crossed Don's mind, but was quickly pushed out.
Giving up on the computer, he closed the window and left the room just in time to miss the small box poked with holes appear on his table.
-
"Hey, who knows what's up with Donnie lately?" Leo inquired, expertly swinging his katana in a perfect arc.
"Nobody," Raph grumped, blocking his brother's sword with the prongs of his sai. "He's been actin' weird. Usually it's Mikey who acts weird, not Don."
"Yeah.." Leo mused, ignoring the "hey" from Mikey from the next room and stepping to the side to avoid being stabbed in the gut, "Quieter than usual too. What do you think he's doing?"
"Dunno. Hope it's something good, like the Shell Cycle," Raph grinned.
"I don't think he's working on a project, Raph," Leo said. "It just feels different."
As if on cue, Don emerged from his room. Both brothers immediately fell silent, causing Don to raise an eyeridge. "If I had ears, would they be burning?"
"Maybe," Raph grinned irritatingly.
Leo sighed and sheathed his katanas. "We're just worried about you Don. You're acting different."
Don seemed surprised. "Different? How?"
"Well you're all jumpy for some reason," Leo started, "Always shutting yourself up in your room, you won't talk to us…"
"Maybe he's in love!" Mikey suggested, coming in from the kitchen.
Don shook his head. "I'm fine. And I'm not in love, Mikey."
"That's what they all say, bro."
"Anyway, not talking to you, that's not true. I came out here because I wanted to talk to you, Leo."
The blue-clad turtle raised an eyeridge. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Where's today's newspaper?"
"On the chair."
"Thanks." Grabbing up the newspaper, Don glanced over it once and quickly made a beeline back to his room.
Once he was gone, Leo pointed a katana in his direction. "See what I mean?"
-
Because Don's beak was buried in the pages of the newspaper he was holding, the box continued to go unnoticed. Until it started hissing.
Startled, the purple-clad ninja pulled his face away from the recent obituaries and looked up, immediately catching sight of the box. He tossed the paper onto a chair and took a careful step towards the box. Once he reached it, he slowly opened the lid.
Something small black and hairy sprang out of the box and rocketed across the room, finally cowering underneath Don's computer desk.
Don pulled the computer chair away and knelt on the floor, leaning over in order to see better.
A small kitten, pure black, was backed into the corner, its back raised and its tail puffed up.
"A cat." Don said. "A cat!? Death doesn't have a cat!"
Sighing at the new development, Don poked his hand under the table for the cat to sniff. He was immediately swatted. "Ow! Hey!" he quickly retracted his hand and sucked on the bleeding fingers.
"Fine, stay there for all I care," Don muttered, picking up the newspaper again and sitting down. Opening up to the obituaries again, he picked up where he had left off and began to scan once more. He got to the end of the page and sighed, putting the paper down again. "I give up. I don't think she's in here."
The kitten had come out of the corner and now sat in front of the desk, licking itself. At Don's words, it nimbly leapt up onto the desk and promptly lay down on top of the paper.
"That's not helping," Don informed the cat.
The cat looked up at him with disgust in its amber eyes as if Don was the stupidest creature it ever met. It began to paw at the corner of the paper.
"Hey, hey, stop that!" Don said, "Leo'll kill me if he thinks I used his paper as something to scratch on…wait a minute…no, I mean…"
Whatever Don meant, he didn't get to finish, because the cat's pawing had turned the page. Right at the very top, in bold letters, was the headline:
Cheerleader Diagnosed With Leukemia
Right under that read:
Ashley Grant, 18…
Don didn't read any farther than that. He looked at the paper, looked at the cat, then back down to the paper.
"Mona or someone sent you, didn't they?" He asked the cat. It stared at him, then turned and sat on the Death handbook.
"Okay, okay, I get it," Don told it. Gently he shoved the cat off the book and opened it up to the next empty page – or what had been the next empty page.
Many of our deaths are given guides to help. Enjoy your Hellcat.
"Hellcat. I thought it was a Hellhound?" The turtle shook his head. He was really starting to hope this was all a dream. The cat stared up at him as if waiting for something.
"Guess I'd might as well name you," Don said. "Hm…how about Morris?" The cat continued staring at him.
"It's the best I could come up with."
The newly named Morris mewed, licked a paw and jumped off the table.
-
Raphael looked up as Don once again emerged from his room. "Hey bro, where ya been?"
"In my room."
"Doing?"
"Stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Boring stuff."
"Oh." Raph knew full well that his brother sounded exactly like him, but knew not to push it. He trusted Donnie not to be doing anything harmful.
The two were distracted by a hissing noise. Klunk had discovered Morris, and the two cats were circling each other, hissing.
"Uh, Don?"
"Yeah?"
"When'd we get a second cat?"
"When it showed up in my room."
"What?"
"Don't ask."
They watched as Klunk took a prelimary swat at Morris and was easily knocked aside, although the black cat was smaller.
Immediately Klunk rolled over onto his back, submitting to Morris. The smaller cat sniffed him and walked away, tail twitching in victory.
Don turned back to Raph. "I have to find someone."
"Who?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why do you need to find them?"
"I don't really know."
"O..k…well…good luck."
"Thanks."
And with the conclusion of one of the oddest conversations Raph had ever had, Don was out the door and into the sewers.
