Take Me Out

Janelle surveyed her appearance, noting the white t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers on her tall, slender frame. That’s all it took. She knew that long, brown hair and bright blue eyes would fill out her features. She was a young woman today, and she knew what that meant. Today’s case was a young one. She hated those cases. They always fought, right up to the end.

Janelle got the details and set out for the remote cabin in the mountains of North Carolina. The setting sun cast golden beams over the brightly colored trees, and the air held the chill of mid fall. Indeed, the path Janelle traveled would have made a beautiful painting in a cozy den.

Janelle found the cabin and rang the doorbell. There was no response. She listened for a moment and, hearing nothing, knocked on the door. It swung open- obviously; it hadn’t been shut all the way. Janelle walked in the house.

“Hello? Is anybody here?” she called, noting the dark wood panels in the sparsely furnished den. The gas logs in the fireplace glowed, filling the room with warmth.

“Who’s there?” a woman slurred, stumbling from a hallway in the back of the den. The woman pushed her messy blonde hair out of her face and glared at Janelle with penetrating green eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m Janelle. I was sent here to ...”

“Sent here?” the woman slurred. “I thought the housekeeping service wouldn’t come until tomorrow. Now’s not a good time.”

“I’m not with the housekeeping service,” Janelle said, staring at the woman staggering into the room. She was dressed in white pajamas with small pink flowers that hung loosely on her small frame. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” The woman raised an eyebrow, swinging around a whiskey bottle ing in her left hand. “What did you say your name was?”

“I’m Janelle,” she held out her hand. “And you are?”

The woman stumbled past Janelle to the couch and sat the bottle on the floor beside her bare feet. “Molly. My name is Molly.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Molly.” Janelle sat in a recliner across from the couch. “Excuse me if this seems rude, but you don’t look well. Are you sick?”

Molly laughed bitterly and picked up a stack of playing cards that sat on the cluttered coffee table between them. “I’m sick, alright. Sick of life. Let’s see,” she said, shuffling the cards. “I got laid off from my job,” she said, flipping a card toward Janelle. “Then my fiancé left me for an intern at his work,” she said, flipping another card toward Janelle. “And to top it all off, my father has cancer,” she said, flipping another card toward Janelle. “So yes, I’m sick. Everybody keeps telling me to keep the faith and enjoy this wonderful gift of life. But as far as I’m concerned, they can take this gift and shove it!” she screamed, throwing the remaining cards across the table.

Janelle sighed and looked at the three cards she caught as Molly tossed them to her. She smiled. “I win.”

Molly gave Janelle a puzzled glare. “What?”

Janelle laid the cards face up on the coffee table – the seven of diamonds, the seven of hearts, and the seven of spades. “Twenty-one. I win.”

“You win what?”

Janelle plucked a pill bottle off the table. “This pill bottle says it’s Valium. How many of these were in here before I arrived?”

Molly shrugged. “What’s it to you?”
J
anelle glared at Molly. Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. Five, ten, it’s hard to tell.” She picked up the bottle of whiskey. “Methinks this made me forgetful.”

Janelle shook her head and threw the bottle on the table. “It’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

Janelle glared at Molly. “I think you know exactly what I mean. It’s why I’m here, Molly. I’m here to collect you.”

“Collect me?” Molly said. “I don’t understand.”

Janelle stood and held out her hand. “Come with me.”

Molly smirked. “What, come with you if I want to live?”

“No. Come with me because you’re going to die.”

Molly laughed and stumbled, trying to get to her feet. She finally succeeded on the fourth try. “No, you’re messing with me. I know what this is,” she slurred, pointing at Janelle. “You’re wearing white. You’re an angel. You’re here to save me.”

Janelle jerked the whiskey bottle out of Molly’s hand. “Is that what this is all about? A cry for help? Well I’m sorry, but you did your job a little too well. Where there’s life, there’s hope, but you’ve deprived yourself of that. I’m not here to save you. I’m a Reaper, Molly. You’re going to die and I’m here to take you out of this world.”

Molly shook her head. “No, that’s not right. You’re in white! Good guys wear white! And besides, the Grim Reaper is a man!”

Janelle shook her head. “There’s not one Grim Reaper. There are millions of us and we can be anything we need to be. Young or old, male or female, light or dark. We all have the single purpose of escorting lives out of this world and into the next. Whatever you believe is what we become to make the transition easier.”

“No, you’re messing with me. You’re an angel! Angels are pretty and wear white. The Reaper is hidden in a black cowl and carries a scythe.”

Janelle transformed her outfit into a black cowl that covered her face and turned the whiskey bottle into a scythe. “Is that better?”

Molly screamed.

“You aren’t making this easy,” Janelle said, reaching out a bony hand. “Come on, there’s no need to make this difficult.”

Molly jumped back. “Don’t touch me! I’ll die!”

“Yes, you will! Your fate is sealed. That’s why I’m here!”

“No!” Molly said, grabbing her keys from the coffee table. “You’re not taking me out of my life. Not today!” She dashed out of the front door, which was still open from Janelle’s entry.

“That was a bad idea,” Janelle said, transforming to her original outfit and throwing the whiskey bottle aside. She rushed to the front door when she heard a car engine crank. “Molly! Valium plus whiskey equals you can’t drive!”

“Stay away from me!” Molly screamed, throwing the car into reverse and gunning the engine. The car shot backwards into the middle of the road, right in front of a moving van. The van crashed into Molly’s car, throwing it into a spin and off the drop on the other side of the road.

Janelle moved from the doorway of the house to Molly’s car in a blur too fast to be seen by the naked eye. She looked down on Molly’s broken, bleeding form. Molly moaned a feeble protest as Janelle leaned in the window. There would be no further resistance. Shaking her head, she touched Molly’s face.

“Don’t fear the Reaper.”

Word Count: 1,156