Death's Song

10-Round

Held breath releases from my body as we fade into the new reality. Grimy walls replace the beige ones from my room, and the chatter of people passing by stand in for the hum of electrical equipment. I stand in place, patting my body to make sure it's still intact. Katerina glides away after placing her violin in its case. When she doesn't hear me following, she turns to face me. Her face, stern and ready to scold, softens as her eyes meet mine. This melting gives way to a chuckle, and she finds humour in my momentary fear.

"Hey, I'm sure you freaked out just as much your first time," I say.

"Not exactly. I started small."

"I didn't really have that option, now did I?"

"No, not really." She chuckles again. It fills the air with music. Her eyes sparkle before she turns her back to me again. "All right, come on boys, we haven't got all day."

She weaves in between the people on the street with ease, her slender form easily fitting in the spaces that open and close as traffic flows. Death floats along behind her. He pays no heed to the living bodies passing through him. I carefully watch the faces of the men and women who interrupt his form, but their expressions don't change. How are Katerina and I the only ones who can see him? What quantifies this distinction? While questioning everything, I forget I'm supposed to be following them, so I run to catch up, bumping into strangers on the way. Katerina and Death wait at the next intersection for me.

"Where are we? This city seems European."

"Firenze, as we call it."

"We?"

"Yes, long ago, my parents raised me in a small village South of what is now called Rome. Our village expanded and joined others to form Firenze, or Florence as you'd recognize it."

"You're from Florence?"

"Not this one, but yes."

"Is that why you brought me here? Are we going to meet some of your family or something, like descendants?"

"No descendants, and no, Barry, a lot of people live in Florence. Use your head."

"Then why here? And now, whenever now is?" The magnificent dress of the populace reminds me of figures in high school text books, or plays. The men's robe-like outfits, decorated with intricate embroidery, appear too colourful to fill the dirty streets. Walking with them, the women in their floor-length gowns float along, somehow maintaining composure though they cannot see their feet.

"You'll see." Katerina forges a way forward through the streets, and we approach a row of houses. In front of one stand a couple of men, their voices and laughter echoing to where we walk.

"Buona sera," Katerina greets as she runs up to the house.

"A, Katerina! Buona sera!" they cry in unison. They take turns kissing her on the cheek before beginning an unintelligible conversation. I linger back with Death. After a while, Katerina summons us, and she introduces me to her Italian friends. She carries on in her native tongue, so I smile and wave, ever the tourist.

"Katerina, who are we meeting?" I ask through my gritted smile.

"Oh, sorry, these guys can go on for days."

"Who are they?"

"They're just some of the local law enforcement. The person we're here to meet is inside. Come on."