Death Becomes Us

Chapter Seven

Strange, droning music envelopes me, pulling me, mind and body, into its trance like rhythm. Bodies dripping with sweat surround me and we jump in unison, moving to the beat of a dubstep and electronic bass. Beams of colored light cut through the darkness in a fusion of patterns, reflecting off of metallic crinkles of paper raining down from the heavens.

Something strange has come over me. My body moves of its own accord; completely disconnected from a mind that knows something is wrong. Alcohol blisters in my chest though I don't remember drinking any. Faces blur together and when I speak it sounds foreign to my ears.

"Where am I?" I ask, but no one knows.

All the while, in the depths of my mind, I hear a ticking clock and then, suddenly, silence.

I look and I stand on a cracked plain of dirt and clay, a shimmering blue sky hanging above. Dilapidated homes rise from a haze on either side and around me contorted lumps lie on the ground. Countless bodies distended in death.

I have been here before. I have recently taken these lives. They were my last appointments before Isaac Harving, but now I feel their pain and their fear. It builds in my chest, wrenching me apart and I fall to my knees, screaming for what the world has lost.

'Tick, tick, tick.' a distorted voice whispers in my ear, 'Three days to play. Shall we begin?'

I wake with a start and the dream vanishes into an endless expanse of white, spinning into nonexistence above me. There is a terrible ringing in my ears, shrill and loud as if someone is screeching next to me. My eyes water as the white slowly turns into an expanse of grey clouds. Thunder growls overhead and the air feels unbearably thick; a storm is coming.

A putrid smell rolls sluggishly from an unknown source nearby and my head feels like it will be split in two from the stench. There is the distant sound of traffic, the blare of car horns and engines doing nothing to help my head. I groan, pressing the palms of my hands against my eyes in an attempt to relieve the pain.

"Oh, god," I moan, kicking my foot against the ground. "That makes it worse."

"I told you to stay away from him."

I spread my fingers and peer through with a grimace. A splintered image of Marcus stands over me, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his lips twisted in a frown. The grey color has left his skin, but the weight of Death still marks itself under his heavy eyes.

"There are two of you," I observe thickly.

The two Firelocks lean down and offer me their hands, hauling me up by the elbow. The world continues to spin and I stagger, holding my head even as my stomach performs somersaults. Colliding with a brick wall I lean heavily against it and slump down again, resting my elbows on my knees. I shut my eyes and knead my scalp, certain that I will find the blade of an axe lodged there.

"Please tell me I'm not dead yet," I rasp.

"I doubt the afterlife would look this pathetic," Marcus responds dryly.

"Then I'm dying."

"Don't be so dramatic, James. You're just hung over."

My stomach lurches and I reflexively swallow the resulting bile with a grimace. Gradually I crack my eyes open and gaze down at a splintered cement walk littered with trash that has spilled from overflowing bins. Not far to my right I locate the source of the putrid smell, the body of a rotting snake, and I gag.

"Where am I?" I ask between dry heaves.

If possible, Marcus's frown deepens even further and he eyes our surroundings with a wrinkled nose.