“Here Roy,” John Gage handed the drug box and biophone to his partner. Roy arraigned them within arms' reach on the bench in the ambulance. John closed the rear doors and gave them a strong thump. The ambulance pulled away into the rainy night. John trotted back to the accident scene and picked up both Roy’s helmet and his own.John stared for a moment at the twisted wreckage. The truck driven by the victim Roy transported, had struck a small sedan, head-on. A white sheet covered the sedan’s driver, who had died instantly. John thought he saw a figure in black standing over the body. The next moment, the figure disappeared.
The truck driver had been speeding in the rain and fog, and lost control on the wet pavement. He escaped with fractures of his left femur and tibia and fibula. The injured man wore a Dracula costume and smelled strongly of alcohol. John sighed and shook his head. Must have been some Halloween party. When will people learn.
“Probably never,” said a voice that echoed in John’s head. “That’s what keeps me in business.”
John looked around the scene. Vince directed traffic around the accident scene. Captain Stanley and the engine crew were busy working around the wreckage. John shrugged and walked to the squad. He hung Roy’s helmet on the peg and tossed his on the seat. He started the engine and undid the clips of his turnout coat. John shivered and turned the heater on.
“Hey Gage!” Hank Stanley ran over to the squad. Johnny rolled the window down.
“What is it, Cap?”
“Vince just heard that visibility is going to be pretty bad for the next couple of hours as this front passes through. Be extra careful.”
“Right, Cap,” said John as he rolled up the window. A Dark and stormy night, perfect for Halloween. John flipped on the emergency lights and pulled into traffic.
The fog grew thicker and the drizzle turned into a downpour as John drove towards Rampart. As he rounded a curve, he saw a figure dressed in black standing in the middle of the road. John slammed on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel to avoid hitting the man. The Squad stopped inches from hooded figure.
John leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He sighed in relief and opened his eyes. The man in black stood outside the driver side door. The stranger’s features were buried beneath the hood. It carried very sharp looking scythe in one hand.
Great. Some kook who thinks he’s the Angel of Death or something. John rolled down the window of the squad. “Hey!” yelled John. “Get out of the road before you get killed!”
“You can’t kill what’s already dead, John Roderick Gage,” said the figure.
John felt the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “How did..?”
“How did I know your name?” asked the figure in an amused tone.
John nodded. He felt his pulse quicken.
“I know everyone’s name. Eventually I meet everyone, in a professional capacity, of course. If you couldn’t tell by the nature of my clothes, I’m the Angel of Death.” Death held out a skeletal hand for Johnny to shake. “Like I say, there’s no substitute for the real thing. No kook in a dyed bathrobe.” Death noticed Johnny’s hesitation. “It’s okay. You won’t explode or anything, if you touch me. I’m not here for you yet.”
Johnny cautiously shook Death’s hand. Johnny was surprised by the icy firmness of his handshake.
“I know, you’re wondering why I stopped you for this chat, since I’m not taking you to the happy hunting ground of your ancestors, Right?”
“Yeah.” John nodded as Death disappeared from view. He looked out of the window into the night. He jumped when he found Death seated in his usual spot in the Squad. Death held it’s bony hands over the heating vent.
“Ahh, that’s better. I hate rainy nights.” Death looked at Johnny. “I mean, they’re good for business, but the dampness gets to these old bones.” He sighed. “That’s what I stopped you for, John. We need to talk business.”
“Business?” asked John. He looked at his watch. It had stopped. John picked up the radio. “L.A., this is Squad 51.” There was silence on the other end.
“Time has....well... stopped for the duration of our little chat,” said Death. “And no, this isn’t a nightmare spurred on by a late night snack of Marco’s chili. This is the real enchilada.” Death giggled. “Get it, chili, enchilada? I’m really not such a Grim Reaper after all. I’ve loosened up some over the centuries. What I do miss about being alive is the food.”
“The food?” asked a skeptical Gage.
“Yep. I died a long time before fast food was invented. I never had the chance to experience a cheese burger, or fried chicken or even French fries. In fact, the one time I stepped into a fast food place, some guy keeled over from a heart attack and two others later died of food poisoning.”
John grimaced. “That’s too bad.”
“Oh well, that’s life, I guess.” Death laughed again.
John smiled and shook his head.
“I saw that. I got you laughing, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. That was a good one,” said John. “So why are you here?”
“Well, I needed to explain my presence at the accident.” Death stuck a bony finger inside the hood as if he were scratching his chin. “You see, Halloween is one night I have to be extra careful. All Saint’s Day starts at midnight, and all Soul’s Day is the next day, so there’s a lot of supernatural activity going on. You know, a lot of disturbances in the ether, and all that.”
John nodded in understanding.
“Sometimes, people who are, well, sensitive to phenomenon of the natural world, can actually see me. You happen to be more tuned into nature than the average person. That sensitivity, along with the rain and the electricity in the fog and the air, allowed you to see me hover over that victim. He actually died, rather painlessly I may add, on impact. I went back because I felt some of the essence of his soul was missing and I wanted to make sure I got it all. This way, his trip into the next life will be complete.”
“Is that where ghosts come from? You miss some of the essence and what’s left of the spirit searches for the rest?”
“That’s one reason. There are others that I don’t have time to go into, like an unscheduled homicide or suicide, excess spiritual baggage.” Death shrugged. “Stuff like that bogs the soul down, and makes it harder to transfer completely to the other side.”
“I see.” John said thoughtfully. “So where do we fit in?”
“Paramedics, you mean?”
John nodded.
“Well, sometimes our relationship is adversarial, and sometimes there are people who seem to cheat death.” Death looked up at the sky. “Take yourself for example. You’ve been very lucky. You almost bought it with the monkey virus. You survived because it wasn’t in the Master’s plan for you to come over.”
“The Master?”
“You know, God, the Great Spirit, Maheo, whatever you want to call the big boss. You guys do a great job grabbing people out of burning buildings and whatever situations they find themselves in. You take people on the brink of death and stabilize them until they get to the hospital. If they survive, then you know they were meant to. The person may even learn something from their experience. They may grow in faith, or learn a lesson in life. Take the guy your partner Roy transported, as an example. He has a bad problem with alcohol and drugs. He’ll live, but he’ll learn to face his problem in something besides a shot glass.”
“If someone dies, then you know it was meant to be. Don’t take losing a patient personally, John. There are an awful lot of people who think they’re playing God by saving a life, but they really aren’t. If God wants you, He’s going to take you. It doesn’t matter what His gift to medicine is standing at your bedside. If it’s your time, you die. I’m merely God’s change agent, escort service to the other world.” Death paused. “Scratch that last part. It sounded a little kinky.” He disappeared again.
John looked outside and saw Death lean on his scythe.
“It’s time for me to go, now. I hope our chat has made you feel a little better.”
“I’ll be thinking about it for a while, I’m sure.” John watched as Death waved good-bye. He turned around and disappeared into the mist.
John sighed and looked at his watch. The second hand had resumed its sweeping motion across the dial. John turned up the radio and heard the traffic from the other units. He turned the squad and resumed his journey towards Rampart. The fog appeared to thin out slightly. He wouldn’t tell Roy. Roy’d think he was nuts.
“He already thinks you’re a little nuts, Junior, but he cares about you anyway.” The voice of Death echoed in his head one last time.
