Reaper's Touch

Gus: The Cords of Death

"The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came over me."
Psalm 116:3

"What are you doing?"

The voice was Adam's. Gus was dreaming about him. They were at the bridge sitting together, exactly as they had been that night. The only difference was that Gus had been sitting on Adam's left that night, but in this reality, he was on the right. They had switched places.

"Probably sleeping," Gus said. "That's the only time I ever see you."

"No, what are you doing, Gus?" Adam asked pointedly, saying the word "doing" as slowly and deliberately as possible.

"I don't know," Gus mumbled with a shrug. "Fucking it all up I guess. Fucking up the life I finally had, because it's over. That life is over."

"Yeah but your life isn't over," Adam said. "Do you wanna die like me? Is that it? Die the way I died? Surrounded by trash and alone, not even getting a damn funeral? Do you want that?"

"Maybe. A little," Gus admitted.

Adam scoffed. "Well you don't get to! I won't let you!"

"You can't save me," Gus said.

"And you can't do that to Hex," Adam replied stubbornly.

Gus swallowed. No. He knew he could never hurt Hex that way. But he couldn't face her either.

"She'll hate my guts now," Gus said softly.

"No. When Hex gets really mad at you, I mean really fuckin' mad... that's when you get to see just how much she loves you. The madder she is, the deeper the love. I wish I'd figured that out when I was alive. Woulda made our fights a lot more enjoyable..." Adam said with a sigh.

"I think I hurt her too bad this time," Gus mumbled.

"Then fix it! Wake up, Gus, and get your shit together!" Adam looked him in the eye, glaring. "WAKE UP!" he yelled.

Gus did. He had lost track of how long he'd been hiding in DF's filthy house, how long he'd been sleeping on this mattress full of bedbugs, how many drugs he'd slammed, how much money he'd spent. He was very aware of three things though. One was that he couldn't come to the surface, not even for a gulp of air, because if he did he would remember that Jeff was dead and never coming back from the ranch. The second was that he had lice again. The third was that he'd lost his shirt somehow after using it as a tourniquet to shoot Xanax last night.

"How long have I been here?" he asked DF that morning, his body flooded with syrupy, warm benzos.

"Almost two weeks."

"That explains why I smell so bad," Gus mumbled, giving his armpit a sniff.

"Yeah... I'm kinda worried about you, dude. You know you're down to your last five hundred right?"

Gus was surprised. It was always a surprise how quickly money dissolved when he was on a bender. He'd have hell to pay if and when he decided to go back to Hex. So much for the engagement ring. Oh well. She wouldn't want to marry him now anyway. Who would?

"I am? Well shit, hook me up with some rock, tweak, xannies, and angel dust if you got it. Make it wet. Then I guess I'll get outta here."