The Collectors

A Bonus

I spent the majority of the morning rethinking my nightmare. It wasn't one of those strange dreams where I was grasping for a meaning out of vague images and sounds. No, I was forced to relive that last day I was alive. I had to stand there motionless watching as the Earth around me exploded into tiny fractions of matter. I can still remember the smell of a burning city, the horrible scrapping noise as concrete hit walls of buildings, and then there was the noise of something organic hitting the ground, hard. Then the crunch.

For years I had been able to suppress those memories, keeping them hidden under a veil of fear. It was easier to try and function when I couldn't remember everything. Lately that was becoming harder and I wondered if it was finally time for me. To do what, I wasn't sure. I sat down on the worn out plastic dinning chair and sipped my instant coffee that was more water than anything else. I watched in silence as the rest of the house awoke.

Luke slumped into the kitchen his blonde hair sticking up at ridiculous angles. I observed as Birdy slipped in and out without much as a glance to the others. Levi strode in already dressed, his eyes were rimmed red as if he had been up for hours. He probably had. I felt like I was watching a movie, like I was just viewing this scene of young strangers wandering in and out of frame. I felt so, numb. I heard the hard metal scrape against linoleum as Levi slid into the seat next to me.

"How did you sleep?" he asked. I looked at him through glazed over eyes. "That is a stupid question." I answered. He snorted slightly. Levi was handsome although I don't think he knew it. He was tall well over six feet. He had dark chestnut hair that fell in sideswept bangs across his forehead. His eyes were the same dark brown but I swear they looked almost black in certain light. He had a thin top lip and a full bottom one although both were a delicate pink color. He had a few freckles that were scattered across his cheeks like small constellations. Levi had been the first one to meet me all those years ago.

When I woke up I was in a white room. The light was so bright it made the room appear to have no ceiling and no floor. I knew that was impossible but my sense of rationality was somewhat skewed. The last thing I remembered was letting go of my sister. Levi walked into the room. Back then his hair had been cropped short on the sides and combed back on the top. He wore a grey button up shirt tucked into black trousers with black suspenders. He carried with him a thick wool jacket although it looked a few sizes too big. His shoes were worn at the toe and the laces were starting to unravel. He took a cigarette out of his back pocket and lit it with ease. He offered me a drag and I took it. Normally, I would have declined a smoke from a strange man but nothing made sense so I just went with it. Handing him back his cigarette I coughed a few times, to my utter horror blood came out.

"Relax," he told me, "That'll heal. Give it a week or so." His voice was low and had a slight hint of the American south. "Is this a hospital?" I asked. I had never been to a hospital, not even when Rosey was born. Mother said they were dirty places and that a healthy girl like me had no business being there. "No," he chuckled "It's too late for a doctor's' appointment." His lips twisted into a delightful smirk.

"Well if it's not a hospital then where the hell am I?" I asked. Anger was starting to bubble up inside me like water left in a kettle. "You're dead." he said rather flatly. That was it. no warning, no gentle words to soften the blow. No, I was dead. Dead, dead, dead. I began to pace around the room. "No!" I shouted. I was so angry. This wasn't supposed to happen. I had reached the bunker in time, hadn't I? I had thrown Rosey to mother and then. What had happened? I couldn't remember. My hands ran through my hair but then stopped. Part of my scalp was missing. I pulled back my hand, my shaking fingers were drenched in blood. I screamed. I rushed past Levi and was sick on the floor. Levi approached me like one would approach a rabid dog. "Look, that'll heal soon, the external stuff, it's messy but it heals faster." I looked at him as if he were mental. "What the fuck do you mean heal?" I shouted.

"You're dead but that doesn't mean you got to look like it." he smirked again and stuffed out his cigarette on the floor. "Who are you?" I asked trying to retain as much information on my new situation as fast as possible. "Charles Levi Thompson III, but most folks just call me Levi. You're Poppy Maccabee, you're nineteen years. Born in Berkshire but moved to London to be closer to your mother's family after your dad died of a heart attack. You had a little sister names Rosemarie Mcabee and she is eight. You have been dead approximately 4 hours. Germans bombed East London. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Did my family survive?" I asked breathlessly. He nodded solemnly. I sighed deeply knowing that even if I had died in the process my sister and mother were safe. "Is this Heaven?" I asked looking around again at the seemingly endless expanse of white. "Not exactly. See you did something very brave today." he smiled as he said that. "So you're going to be getting a bit of a bonus."

"A bonus?"

"You, Poppy Maccabee are being given the title of Angel of Death."