Grim Reaper on Speed Dial

Four left

Faolan P.O.V

There is no cemetery in Cicadia. There are names carved into the wall of the main hall. Da carved Ma's name a year or so after Will was born. I was seven. I carve Osin's next to hers now. Elisa Marie Grace. Osin Jaiden Grace. Only four of us still live now. My arm gets tired halfway through Osin's middle name and Moira, the cook comes from behind me then takes my knife from me and continues it. I hadn't realized she followed me. Moira's hands are wrinkled by time and tears well in her eyes though they don't fall, and she keeps steady. Something I fail to do. My hands tremble in my lap where I try to keep them contained, and my breathing won't stay even for the life of me. Moira cuts her index finger after finishing Osin's name, then fills in the small letters with the blood. The sign that she died without all of her soul. Dying without all of one's soul can occasionally make one an Echo. A rendition of what your loved ones saw you as, but since Osin died of a Reaper Guardians scythe, that isn't possible, plus I don't think she would have held onto this life that hard. She wouldn't have made us put her down again. Echo's are slaves to whatever feeling they felt last while dying, and that's almost always pain, so they are rarely ever kind. Pain twists people. I want to wheel out of the room hurriedly but I am too tired, I don't have the arm strength. Moira turns and sees the trapped look in my eyes. From the satchel she wears, all patched up and worn, she pulls out a few pieces of paper and a pencil, then hands them to me and walks off giving me space. I start drawing Ma. Oak brown hair with naturally sun-bleached streaks, waved slightly, falling down to her shoulders. I remember her from a photo, from before adults had to cut off all their hair. Her face curves gently but a stubborn set jaw, even though a smile. One amused but fierce hazel eye, one unresponsive cold blue eye. Small lips, always fighting a smile, though one of her slight eyebrows is raised challengingly, daring the onlooker to make her laugh at their own peril. This is the only way I can draw her since I only have one photo of her. Every other way I try to animate her she seems fuzzy, unreal. More like a memory. She seems to be staring at me through this picture though. Her shoulders are small but squared up like her feet would be set in some combative stance, and her arms taunt by her sides. As if she were about to leap out at someone. Her neck held high, like the rest of her head. Not in a crouch. Not hung. Da told me she was a proud woman one time when he'd had too much swill. I start drawing Osin next. Her hair turned maniacally curly of its own volition. Her eyes were hazel as well, but there was more green rooted in them. Though I remember when she was stressed they'd turn deep brown, and when she was happy they'd look damn near amber. She had Ma's nose, lips, and commonly arched her eyebrows in dares, but she had Da's more angular jawline. Her facial expressions were nearly always playful as Ma's, but her lips pursed more often, forehead wrinkled, and eyes downcast. I try to draw her the happiest I ever saw her though. When Winnifred was born. Her eyes are pine green, her teeth show in her smile, she still had half a head of curly as all hell hair. I have a picture of her then too. Since I've drawn Osin kind of big, her taking up half the page and Ma taking up the other, I draw the reflections of their deaths in their eyes. Ma on her sick bed tiny in her eyes. Osin dying on stage for everyone to see in her eyes. I'm only working with a pencil, there is no color. When I am done, I take the two photos I used for reference from my jeans pocket and put them next to the paper. It looks as if I've leached the life out of them on my paper. The overhead lights go from bright to dim lights, a sign that there are fifteen minutes until night shift or bedtime depending on what your job situation is. I put my stuff on my lap and wheel myself back to my flat. Once there I write in big words on my drawing

"The Dead" then I turn the paper over and write "The Dying" and start to draw Winnifred, Da, and I. I'm not halfway done before someone behind me clamps a sweet smelling napkin over my mouth and nose, and I pass out shortly after.

Winnifred P.O.V

It's been three days now. Three days of Mare being the most annoyingly happy little s**t of my life, Gael and Liam playing tricks on me not seeming to get the fact that I don't share their sadistic humor, the food here being strange and overwhelming, and me trying to walk again. My cut leg won't allow it though. Today I've resolved to bite Mare if she comes in to take me out when someone enters my little hospice hut.

"I will bite you if you touch me!" I snarl.

"Aw, the Cicada's got a spine. I was concerned there for a while" a male says, it's not Liam or Mare. I turn around to see a Hispanic looking man about my sisters' age staring back at me. I give him a baleful glare, that he responds to with an amused arch of an eyebrow and a doubtful smile. He thinks I'm gimpy. My eyes narrow and I c**k my head, willing myself to stand up. I manage to sit up before my stomach starts lurching and I lean over a little.

"See Mare had the wrong idea. She thought you'd get so annoyed you'd get off your ass. I think that might work but it'd take damn near forever, and then you might actually kill her. I think, that if I challenge you, your stubborn ass will get up now, and you'll be too weak to actually take me out so what'll it be bug?" He asks me. A low growl escapes me from the back of my throat and I close my eyes, forcing myself to take deep breaths. Suddenly he starts humming "Ring Around the Rosy"

"why do ALL OF YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH JACKASSES, MAYBE I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP b***h!" I bellow at him standing up. Mistake, I stood too fast. My head swims and I put a hand to my head, it feels like it's splitting. The yell also hurt my chest, my other hand goes to my diaphragm. I feel like I'm holding myself together. I open my eyes and look down, he's still here. He wears tan combat boots and his jeans are torn around the edges. My breath comes in quick heavy pants. I look up and still see an infuriating smile on his lips. I choke on a growl then clear my throat and shake my head. I take a tentative step and finding that it doesn't send me sprawling again I take another. It takes me a hot minute but I walk around the man and out of my room, then slowly out of the entire infirmary hut. I look up, it's about to storm. Tears threaten my eyes, this. This is the smell Da and Osin tried to explain to me so many times. I look down, people mile about living their lives. The woods dare me to come back out and play past the huge wooden gate surrounding the little town. Little raindrops start to pelt my face forgivingly and I heave a deep breath.

"Don't slip in the mud there bug, you smell rank enough" The boy says from behind me. I huff and refuse to acknowledge him. "You Cicadas, you all stubborn or is it just the chicks? So few dudes check out of whatever hole you shits crawl from."

"Can you just shut up you major screw boy?" He chuckles at that.

"How do you feel about dying short stuff?" He asks then, and I feel his breath on my neck. I turn my head slightly and see his chest. Damn him for being taller than me.

"I think your mouth is bigger than your balls" I retort. He snickers for a second then all of a sudden I'm pitching forward, but I hook my left leg around him, kick up with my right, and grab onto his shoulder twisting around to face his back. I hike my right leg up and knee him in the back then I hike my left leg up too. Grunting with the effort, I dig my hands in the pressure points on his collarbone and niche my feet on his waist staying on him.

"Congratulations clingy, you've upgraded from bug to s**t monkey," he says. "You can call me Bear" Now it's my turn to snort.

"Ok Winnie the Pooh"

"Hey, that is a respectable bear young lady" Suddenly Bear reaches up and yanks my arms forward at the shoulders. I kick off with his force, then roll while he throws me and put all my weight into a kick to his gut. A small 'oomph' escapes him, and Bear yanks my arms towards him causing my knees to buckle then he knees my exposed gut and shoves me down. I land in the mud, hard. "Mare is going to get you up to speed on the social order here, Gael and I will train you. Then when we think you can hold your liquor, you can either leave or stay and work" I glare up at Bear and try to stand. He comes over as if to help but he stops cold when he makes eye contact with me. He gives me an amused smile and I struggle but manage to stand. I clear my throat and arch an eyebrow. My left leg is screaming at me and I'm about to sit down but the Gael lifts me up from behind, bridal style. I grab onto her neck in fear.

"What the hell?" I yelp.

"You haven't got to see the best part about this place!" she says excitedly. I look to Bear for help but he looks on board.

"Ai, stop traumatizing the Cicada!" a new voice yells. Another new person, I groan and look over to see a stocky Native American lady walking over, she looks about 30 and hopefully, she's these peoples boss. Gael lets me down gently and I struggle to stay upright. "And who gave her the weighted bandages? She doesn't need physical therapy, she needs to heal." The lady continues. "My bandages are what now?" I snap. The lady ignores me.

"But she's such a twig b***h" Bear protests. The lady stares him down and he huffs.

"Get James to give her regular bandages, and then get ready for the hunt, you're on today," she says. Suddenly Bear straightens and nods. "You too Gael" She continues. Gael and Bear run off quickly then. "I'm Allysa, I am in charge of medical and weapons," she says. I clear my throat

"Like ya do," I say quietly. "Ma'am" I add warily. Allysa huffs a short laugh then points back to the med hut.

"Head back there to get re-bandaged"

"Wait, what is the hunt?" I counter.

"Go on." Allysa says closing the matter. Well crap now I'm curious.