Harbinger - 1. Chapter 1

Harbinger

Chapter 1

I am a Harbinger. I was in life, and I am now in death. It is my duty to witness the destruction and rebirth of souls. I’m Death’s stenographer. He bags and tags them and I do the paperwork, so to speak. Whatever horrors I had committed in the last life had dealt me this sentence. I must have been an awful bastard. We Harbinger’s aren’t privy to that information though. I remember my life then, but don’t know what specific thing or group of things earned me this fate. Once upon a time I actually thought of myself as a pretty good person. Apparently I was mistaken.

We watch and we experience death first hand. Each is made our own. However subtle or violent, we ride in their hearts, minds, and skins. I suppose we couldn’t give an accurate account if we weren’t in the moment living it ourselves.

Over the years I grew accustomed to it. As a witness, a Harbinger, it’s my job. Every death I was spectator to in both my life, and afterlife, I could conjure up in my mind with vivid detail. The acrid scent of burnt flesh, the visage of too much crimson life spilled, and the touch of ashen cold death are commonplace to me now. It’s like watching a television commercial. You hear the noise, see what’s going on, but don’t much pay attention unless it’s funny.

There is at least one thing that breaks up the monotony, the comedy of circumstance. Just last week I watched as a 22 year old college student fucked himself to death. His foot slipped when he was straddling one of those fake horse dick dildo things. What is it they call it, silicone? It plunged into his guts and tore him apart from the inside. Wide eyed and with a grin on his face... that’s how they found him. Bet the mortician had a bitch of a time wiping that off his face.

How could I watch if I was experiencing it? Well, we see from the outside as well as from the eyes of the dying. It’s almost as though you’re in two places at once, camera one and camera two. After the first decade or so I managed to learn to focus more on the outside view. It makes each nightmare almost bearable.

Don’t get me wrong. Not every experience is terrible. Even with the most subtle passing of a soul there is a crushing fear of the unknown in those final moments. Rarely is there ever that true peace people talk about in the movies. Even that is messy. ‘There went grandma! She looked so peaceful.’ Wait for it…. yep… there it is… granny just shit herself for the last time. It’s callous I know. I was jaded in life, and I’ve become even more so in death.

Today I would be getting a trainee. Much like my workday or whatever was required of me at any given moment, I knew. I knew it just as I know my eyes are brown.

It is fortunate I suppose that I died when I did. Early thirties aren’t totally beyond the point of no return. I was relatively thin, and still had most of my hair unlike my mentor. Kevin was in his late sixties when the reaper came to collect. Most men have given up any attempt at being ‘pretty’ at that point.

Sadly, I wasn’t body building or at least working out at the gym when I kicked the bucket. There is the occasional bit of flab here and there, which can be hidden in the latest fashions. I hope baggy clothes never go out of season. There were no angel wings and eternal youth and beauty for me when I died. I am the same today as I was then, but without all of the broken bones and blood. Shit brown hair, six feet one inch tall, average build, face, and endowment. Good skin, albeit pale, and good teeth were in my favor. Most wouldn’t kick me out of bed for eating crackers. Unfortunately, being average always seemed to make me a stepping stone to what might be better. Nothing lasts.

“What the fuck dude?” Austin jogged toward me as he glanced back at a shoe that lay in the neighbor’s yard.

His foot was still in it. His leg and I presume much of the rest of him were scattered around here somewhere. He knew as well as I did when I was killed. When you pass on, there’s no doubt that you’re dead. The knowledge is emblazoned upon your conscious. He came to me because he knew he was supposed to.

“This is bullshit.” Austin spat out the words as he stood beside me

Austin died. After blowing out the pilot light, his mother turned on every burner full tilt. At 3:10 a.m. the furnace lit one last time. He slept directly above the kitchen. Why did she do it? I don’t know or care.

“Come on, before someone steals my shit.” I nodded toward home.

It would have been nice if I were indicating the closest Hilton, but that was not the case. My free time is spent under an overpass a few blocks away. It’s not bad. I’m dry in the rain, and the cops don’t usually fuck with me.

“Where we going?” Austin jerked me around to face him and his muddy hazel eyes searched my face for an answer.

I didn’t have time for stupid.

“Look, just think about it.” He glanced away and then gazed back at me.

“Okay. Now you know.” I jerked my arm out of his grasp, turned, and stepped over what was probably some of his mother.

For the first five or six blocks he followed in silence. The tread of his lazy steps were a steady rhythm. I missed the sound of it. My mentor Kevin and I used to walk the streets at night seldom speaking.

It wasn’t long before I noticed the absence of his footfalls and heard a sniff.

“She killed me.” Austin choked out the words and collapsed onto the sidewalk.

“God damnit.” I screamed the words in my head as I turned and watched his shoulders rise and fall with angry sobs.

“Come on. Let’s just get home.” ‘Before they steal my shit.’ I thought to myself.

Austin was not cooperating. As he wept, his lithe body shivered in the night against the cold concrete.

“Get up.” My words were angrier than I would have liked, but we had to get moving.

His body stilled for endless moments before he pulled himself up and glanced at me.

“Fuck you!” His red rimmed eyes seemed to glow in the light of the setting sun.

“No. Fuck you. You know where you have to be.” With that I turned, and walked home without the tread of his steps in my ears

He was right though. This was bullshit. The last thing I wanted to do was babysit and train some newbie.

Crazy Dave and Jeanna had already left when I finally settled down in my corner of the overpass. I’d meet up with them at one of the soup kitchens or homeless shelters. Crazy Dave was just that, crazy. Jeanna was a Harbinger like me, but we didn’t speak. I haven’t spoken to anyone since Kevin moved on. That was two years ago. That was, of course, until today.

The chicken soup I stole from a nearby gas station was almost ready when I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. Austin was lurking just outside of the overpass.

“You going to come eat, or stay out there and bring the cops?” I rolled my eyes as I pulled my blanket tighter around me. Tonight was going to be chilly.

He didn’t answer as he crept toward me. I had already prepared our bowls. An underpass isn’t exactly level so I took his portion off of my makeshift cook stand and held it out to him. The last thing I needed was for him to send all of my shit sliding down into the ditch below.

Austin snatched it from my hand as though I were infected with something, Cooties maybe? For a moment I wanted to let him starve, but we Harbingers don’t really get hungry. We eat because it’s one of those small joys I guess they forgot to take away.

Moments later, Austin handed me his empty bowl, “I still hate you.”

His midnight black hair hung over his face. I couldn’t see his eyes and the sun had all but dipped beyond the horizon. He died young and beautiful and I hated him for it. His features were petite. He appeared almost delicate as darkness swallowed the details of his form.

I packed away his and my empty bowls in my backpack before rifling out a spare blanket from my backpack.

“Tomorrow is going to difficult for you. Get some sleep.” I threw it in his direction and settled myself in the tangle of too many fabrics. When you sleep on concrete, it takes a few layers of clothes and blankets before it becomes a bed. You might wake up sweating bullets, but it will at least be comfortable enough for a body to fall asleep. Austin wouldn’t be as lucky tonight.

It wasn’t long before his breaths slowed and drew in with the labored effort of unconsciousness. At least he didn’t snore like Kevin did. Dreams and memories flowed behind my eyes as my mind wandered. Every night was the same. A personal horror or mistake played back in my dreaming to remind me what a bastard I truly was.

                                                                                                ------

Mike met us outside. We knew it was him instantly. Silver skin and hair framed a traditional vampire wardrobe as his petite muscular frame sauntered toward us. His angular features danced in the glow of a nearby street light. Only ‘he’ could find a way to make a blood-thirsty creature of the night, look like a drag queen and still manage to give the impression of a lumberjack in a dress.

Of our group, Mike, was the butch. He was the manliest in gesture and personality. I don’t suppose that said much for the rest of us considering his most recent attire.

The deep pulse of the latest dance music thrummed against my chest and muted Mike’s words as he waved hello. As usual, his smile stole half his face and his cheeks seemed to pinch the narrow slits that were his eyes. It was his famous annual Halloween party in Louisville, Kentucky.

“Hey Jay. Hey Moon. Get a drink. Help yourself. You know the rule.” Mike welcomed my lover, Jay, with a hug.

Jay’s shoulder length chestnut hair was pulled tight on one side and hung in ringlets on the other. His Native American heritage, high cheek bones and pointed chin gave his masculine side an almost regal appearance. He was dressed as half man, half woman. He had even shaved a portion of his thick mustache to complete the illusion. One side was clothed in suit pants and shirt, while the other donned a frilly ankle length pink dress of laze and flowers. He had worked on the costume for hours, and his efforts were an instant hit.

Yes, my name really is Moon. Left to their own devices, my parents’ drug addled 60’s mindset granted me several awkward inheritances; the first of these was my name.

Mike and Jay were age old friends. I was a most recent addition to the group, but I had learned the rule. “If you can find it… help yourself, because I’m not waiting on you bitches. If it takes batteries, I expect it back.“ There were, of course, some stipulations regarding the cleanliness and battery state of ‘said’ returned item, but they didn’t apply tonight. We weren’t there to borrow a vibrator or dildo. We were there to have a different kind of fun.

Jay meandered his way through the throng of guests while I disappeared into the shadows of an ancient oak tree. You wouldn’t think it so simple to hide a six feet tall man in a flowered dress, apron, and curly haired grey wig, but you’d be wrong. ‘Mama’ sat on the bench in the shadows and watched. That was me. The guy dressed in the old lady get-up from ‘Mama’s Family’. I’m certain many won’t get the reference, but I’m sure a body could manage a google search on Vicki Lawrence if they were so inclined. Anyway, it was funny, damnit.

It wasn’t long before one of the other ‘new additions’ found their way to my hiding spot. Ryan waved his beer at me and gave a subtle nod.

“Ah, so this is where you are.” He chuckled and sat down beside me.

“That’s right bitch,” I laughed, “and it’s mine. Go find your own place to hide.”

I was more comfortable around Ryan than most of the strangers. He also made me horny as all hell. Ryan was a reportedly well hung man. I couldn’t deny or confirm. What I did know was that he was handsome in his own way. He was intelligent, well read, and while not athletic, had a cubicle body. A Cubicle body comes from one that sits at their desk all day and only exercises at the gym. He was also known to be a whore. What captivated me most about him was his short cropped deep brown hair and round long lashed eyes. Even in the daylight there was almost no telling where the pupil began and iris ended.

Ryan sat with me in the shadows and pressed against me with a grin.

“I thought you were married.” I shoved my shoulder into his.

“I thought you were, too.” Ryan nudged back and I felt the heavy heat of his hand as it played along my inner thigh.

“I don’t cheat.” I caught his hand with mine and held it still.

I wanted to pull his fingertips into my most private places, but froze. Ryan’s hand ripped away as a beam of light flickered toward us. We hadn’t done anything wrong, but I knew that guilt shown across my face as if it were etched in granite.

“And just what are you two up to?” Mike flashed the hand-held light on us in tandem, inspecting the crime scene.

“Oh, nothing. I was hoping to seduce Ryan into wild passionate sex behind the tree, but someone with a flashlight interrupted us. The rude bitches didn’t even give us time for a proper blowjob.” I grinned and tried to muster up what little innocence I still possessed.

During the first year of my relationship with Jay, he taught me many things; first and foremost, was that you should always tell the truth. The method of delivery however; was up to you. My choice was to make it a joke.

“Thirsty?” Jay stepped out from behind Mike and handed me a nectar, translation, “Bourbon and Coke”.

“Thanks babe. Where’s Rob?” After a casual swirl of my straw, I took a sip.

Rob and Ryan were lovers, though they seemed to fight more than love. They sparred with each other by dangerous means. Affairs by one, and then the other, seemed to be their preferred method of attack and retaliation.

“Right here, bitches!” Rob slurred his words as he stumbled toward us from a poorly lit corner of the yard.

Ryan rose from the bench with deliberate effort. His leisurely movements somehow exuded a denial of his most recent intentions, and I wondered how many betrayals were prerequisite to teach a body such control.

I longed for the anonymity of the shadows, but knew that we were going to have to mingle. Jay would show me off to the others while occasionally drifting into the crowd to scrutinize my every action. He didn’t trust me. He didn’t trust anyone.

It wasn’t long before I had my Tarot cards out and was doing readings. First I would read their palm, and then do their cards. Strangers were always an easy read. I didn’t know them and I didn’t want to. Whatever I might reveal was based strictly on the lines and the cards. There was no baggage or past knowledge to skew what I would tell them. I was taught well and it had made me quite popular with the group.

It also made me the ‘flake’. Everyone wants to believe. Most want to hear a truth of one sort or another that no one else could possibly know. It’s their personal proof that I can do what I do.

I didn’t hide this part of myself, and should probably have thought better of it. They may have been gay, but even fags have limits to what they will and won’t accept. I had the benefit of an affiliation with Jay, which afforded me a precarious carte blanche.

So after the tears, the cheers, and the bouts of stunned silence, I was tired and the party was coming to an end. It was still early, but the fighting had begun. Every great party seems to be accompanied by some fool too drunk or too stoned to know when to keep their mouth shut.

I think we’ve all been to those parties, or at least I hope so. There’s always that moment of clarity when your mind tells you ‘Time to go!’ The trick, is listening, and following through before the police arrive.

We let Mike know we were leaving. The ‘after party’ party was to be at our house, and we had already invited the elite to attend. We were bugging out. His party had become a cluster fuck by shear proportion. The numbers were against him. Too many drunks were in too cramped a space. Eyes would be clawed out, cheeks would be slapped, and relationships would end. ‘Drama’

My dream shifted to a few days later. A rather rotund lesbian by the name of Lynn, stood with me as Jay sat and listened to the doctor explaining his cancer. Surgery was already scheduled. Several bouts of chemo and radiation would follow.

                                                                                                ------

In the night during our slumber, Austin had somehow managed to curl around me in a way that almost felt like a hug. I didn’t like it. The sun had already risen and the russet hues of daybreak were fading away to a bright glow that threatened to sting my eyes. I hated mornings.

“Get up!” I flung the covers off of me as well as his leg and arm that had somehow wrapped around me.

Don’t crowd me and don’t breathe my air. Those are my sleeping rules. Austin squirmed and reached across my waist trying to pull me closer.

“Wake up!” I flicked his forehead.

Austin’s eyes flickered open and then squinted as he scrambled away. He was awake.

“There are a few things you need to know before our day begins, so pay attention.” I barked as I rewrapped my body in the strewn blankets to fight the morning chill.

“Do we have super powers?” Austin interrupted before I was able to finish.

“No, we don’t have any fucking super powers.” I thought for a moment before continuing.

Austin slumped and jerked his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Okay, that’s not exactly true. You can eat as much as you like, and you’ll never have to piss or shit again. No more bathroom breaks. You are a bottomless stomach of power. Feel better now?” He huffed in reply.

“You are now as you were when you died, albeit in one piece. You will never age, but no, you can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound. You have no x-ray vision, and you cannot fly.” I was going to have to crush his youthful exuberance. I’d snuff it out as one does a cigarette. There was no room for it in our world.

“Before you ask me any more stupid questions, think. The answers are there. You already know them.” I stared into the distance as cars thundered passed on the street below.

“You’re a liar!” Austin’s choked out the words as he turned to hide his tears.

“Believe what you want to kid. I’m just telling you how it is.” He was making it easier for me to dislike him with each passing moment.

“Then why did she kill me? Why do I have to do this? How long will it last? Is it forever?” His voice crackled with sorrow and uncertainty.

Damn, he had a point. We’re not all knowing. We know what we are supposed to know, but if he kept wasting my time he wasn’t going to be prepared for the rest of the day.

“Those answers I do not have. I don’t know, and I don’t care. You and I will be swapping places between witness and the dying with each passing. We start at 8am and usually finish just before 5pm. The final death is often local, but if not, we arrive here. If it’s local we have to walk.” I shook my head and wondered if I were as big a pain in the ass when I was in training.

“Suck it up kid and get ready. It’s almost time.” I begrudgingly unwrapped myself from a few layers and stuffed my things into a worn vinyl backpack that I was given at one of the local shelters. “Thanks to you, we get no breakfast.”

“You really kind of suck at this.” I jumped hearing the words.

Jeanna and I hadn’t spoken in two years, and even then it was seldom more than a slight nod or curt ‘Hello’. She sat a few feet away in the shadows of the overpass. She was a portly woman, with dark, almost black, curly hair and eyes to match. Her face resembled one of the cherubs my mother once collected so very long ago. Standing, her eyes would have been level with my chest had we ever gotten that close to each other. Like me, she was clad in layers of filth and fabric which added to her round physique.

“You want him?” I challenged.

Jeanna held up her arms as if to surrender and then Austin and I phased to our first death.