difference between immortal and invulnerable.” Sooner or later, every newbie asked the same question. For reasons unknown, reapers lacked any type of enhanced physical ability. No super speed, or X-ray vision, or anything else to make the job easier. They were, however, gifted with remarkable regenerative powers, rendering them damn near indestructible. Shoot them, blow them up, drop them from an airplane at twenty thousand feet, and they’d dust off and keep coming back for more.
Of course, it still hurt like hell.
David pushed up from the couch, gritting his teeth to hold back the groan. Although the pain was nothing compared to what it felt like an hour ago, a dull ache still rode him like a rented mule, a harsh reminder to pay closer attention next time. “Our jobs aren’t supposed to be a walk in the park. This is atonement for mortal sin, not lunch detention. Penance never comes cheap. Or easy.” And no penance would be complete without a healthy dose of pain and suffering thrown in for good measure.
“Watching people die and harvesting their souls isn’t punishment enough?” Adam asked, his voice rife with righteous indignation.
“Apparently not.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“That’s life. Get used to it.”
The next morning found David awake, alert, and completely recuperated from his injuries. His wounds had healed overnight, leaving bare patches of missing chest hair as the only souvenir from the prior day’s fiasco.
He yawned, then stretched before moving over to the front window, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Feeling more alive with each sip, he pulled back the blinds and opened the window so he could watch the day unfold. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have any morning reaps on the schedule and he planned on making the most of the downtime. Maybe hit the gym, wash his car, do a little grocery shopping.
His stomach let out an audible growl. Yeah, he was definitely making a trip to the grocery store. While his body healed at an accelerated rate, the process expended a tremendous amount of energy, leaving him famished. Already, he’d polished off the last of the bagels, half a box of Eggo waffles, and a bag of Cheetos, and his body still craved nourishment. Maybe he’d make a pit stop at the Waffle House on his way to Publix.
Adam had left a few moments earlier to walk Buford. The kid emerged from the stairwell, the dog anxiously jerking him across the parking lot and toward the grass. The drooling sack of fur and fleas marked every upright object in his path, from the palm trees to the fire hydrant to the front bumper of a pale blue Volkswagen Beetle.
“Good morning!” a woman’s voice called out from the other side of the parking lot, and David’s senses perked with recognition.
Sarah.
She came into view and David felt an unfamiliar tug deep within the blackened recesses of his soul. This morning she wore tailored black dress pants and a pale green blouse that showed a hint of cleavage. Her dark brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Quite a difference from the low-slung pajama bottoms and clingy pink tank top she wore the night before, although he couldn’t say which look he preferred.
“How’s the patient this morning?” she asked from across the parking lot while she fished a pair of sunglasses from her bulky black purse.
“Cranky as usual, but otherwise doing much better,” Adam replied with a flirtatious grin, moving closer but keeping far enough away so Buford couldn’t slobber all over her. “I think he’ll live.”
“Of course I’ll live,” David murmured, oddly annoyed. He didn’t know what bugged him more, being called cranky, or Adam’s shameless flirting.
Sarah glanced up to his window, smiled, and waved. He waved back and sent her a mental suggestion: Running late. Time to go to work.
Nothing. She turned her attention back to Adam and continued her conversation, her hands gesturing wildly as she spoke, oblivious to
Of course, it still hurt like hell.
David pushed up from the couch, gritting his teeth to hold back the groan. Although the pain was nothing compared to what it felt like an hour ago, a dull ache still rode him like a rented mule, a harsh reminder to pay closer attention next time. “Our jobs aren’t supposed to be a walk in the park. This is atonement for mortal sin, not lunch detention. Penance never comes cheap. Or easy.” And no penance would be complete without a healthy dose of pain and suffering thrown in for good measure.
“Watching people die and harvesting their souls isn’t punishment enough?” Adam asked, his voice rife with righteous indignation.
“Apparently not.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“That’s life. Get used to it.”
The next morning found David awake, alert, and completely recuperated from his injuries. His wounds had healed overnight, leaving bare patches of missing chest hair as the only souvenir from the prior day’s fiasco.
He yawned, then stretched before moving over to the front window, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Feeling more alive with each sip, he pulled back the blinds and opened the window so he could watch the day unfold. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have any morning reaps on the schedule and he planned on making the most of the downtime. Maybe hit the gym, wash his car, do a little grocery shopping.
His stomach let out an audible growl. Yeah, he was definitely making a trip to the grocery store. While his body healed at an accelerated rate, the process expended a tremendous amount of energy, leaving him famished. Already, he’d polished off the last of the bagels, half a box of Eggo waffles, and a bag of Cheetos, and his body still craved nourishment. Maybe he’d make a pit stop at the Waffle House on his way to Publix.
Adam had left a few moments earlier to walk Buford. The kid emerged from the stairwell, the dog anxiously jerking him across the parking lot and toward the grass. The drooling sack of fur and fleas marked every upright object in his path, from the palm trees to the fire hydrant to the front bumper of a pale blue Volkswagen Beetle.
“Good morning!” a woman’s voice called out from the other side of the parking lot, and David’s senses perked with recognition.
Sarah.
She came into view and David felt an unfamiliar tug deep within the blackened recesses of his soul. This morning she wore tailored black dress pants and a pale green blouse that showed a hint of cleavage. Her dark brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Quite a difference from the low-slung pajama bottoms and clingy pink tank top she wore the night before, although he couldn’t say which look he preferred.
“How’s the patient this morning?” she asked from across the parking lot while she fished a pair of sunglasses from her bulky black purse.
“Cranky as usual, but otherwise doing much better,” Adam replied with a flirtatious grin, moving closer but keeping far enough away so Buford couldn’t slobber all over her. “I think he’ll live.”
“Of course I’ll live,” David murmured, oddly annoyed. He didn’t know what bugged him more, being called cranky, or Adam’s shameless flirting.
Sarah glanced up to his window, smiled, and waved. He waved back and sent her a mental suggestion: Running late. Time to go to work.
Nothing. She turned her attention back to Adam and continued her conversation, her hands gesturing wildly as she spoke, oblivious to
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