Death Wish (5 page)

*

“So... I’m a bit confused.”
Robin is breathing heavily from our afternoon of exercise. In addition to the run, we also spent the hours lifting weights, doing rudimentary gymnastics, and stretching every muscle in our bodies. It’s early in the evening now, and we are walking toward the building’s exit.
We went back into the main area of the building instead of exiting from the locker room so I could show her the basic layout of where she would be working, and now we’re heading to the exit by the corridor leading to the offices.
I turn to look at her and she continues.
“Why do we put so much effort into this physical training?”
“What do you mean?” I pull my hair out of its ponytail. The silver waves fall against my upper back, sticking slightly to the damp material. The back of my workout top completely covers my shoulder blades, but I still like to keep my hair down as an extra barrier against any prying eyes and horrified questions. Robin doesn’t notice anything amiss, and I’m grateful for that.
She elaborates. “I mean, why do we care about our fighting skills? We just spent the last hour going over self-defense, but all this job entails is killing people who want to die. What’s the point?” She adjusts her bag’s shoulder strap and looks at me, confused.
We walk in silence for a few moments while I try to figure out the best way to explain this to her. The same question plagued me when I was a pixie, but after a certain number of Wishes you quickly understand why all of this training is necessary. Sure, some Wishes can be quite elaborate and require a lot of physical exertion, but something tells me that isn’t why she’s asking.
My mind suddenly flashes back to the first time I had encountered resistance on a Wish assignment. It was my first week on the field, and the subject was a hundred-and-twenty year old man.
“It doesn’t happen all of the time, but sometimes the client resists their Death.” I look straight ahead instead of at Robin, lost in the world of my memory.
I dropped down from the windowsill, hitting the pavement two stories below as quietly as I could. But it wasn’t quietly enough, because the man I had been trailing whipped around. I cursed silently. Our eyes met, his widening in fear while mine narrowed in preparation.
“Resists it?” Robin is clearly confused “What do you mean?”
“No!” He began to run down the deserted sidewalk as fast as he could. But I was faster, and as soon as I caught up to him I leapt forward, knocking him to the ground. I straddled his back while he lay face-down on the concrete, pinning down his flailing arms with my knees.
I clarify. “They change their mind. Basically, they decide that they’re too scared to die and fight the Godparent who’s been sent after them. Sometimes those fights can get brutal.”
This was the first time I’d ever encountered resistance, so I didn’t prepare myself enough for his retaliation. He spread his fingers on the ground and thrust upward with all his strength, throwing me off of him so swiftly that I landed in the street a few feet away with a painful
thud
.
He jumped up and held a hand to his nose, stemming the flow of blood from his impact with the sidewalk. I was dazed, but my training kicked in and I was back on my feet in a second. His eyes widened again, his face pale from fear and blood-loss, and he tried to run one more time. But he must not have been used to minor injuries, because he only got a few feet away before I slammed him up against the brick wall of the building towering over us. He sobbed, begged “Please, please, I don’t want to die,” as I got out my blade.
“Do you still complete the Wish submission, even when they resist?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wesson,” I whispered, recalling his name from the file I read that morning. “But it’s too late to turn back.” He inhaled and I could feel his lungs expand, preparing to scream, but I had already slit the back of his neck at that point. I clicked the button in the middle of my weapon, retracting the knife and replacing it with the claw. I pushed the claw into the wound and in less than a second the Chip was out. His body shuddered and went stiff. I stepped back and it crumpled to the ground, no more than a shell for the life that was no longer there.
“Of course.” I say this bluntly, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world. “Once you’ve submitted a Death Wish officially, there’s no going back.”
My trainee is silent, and I assume the conversation is over. But she starts speaking again.
“But… They didn’t want to die.” Her voice is behind me now and edged with steel. I turn around. Robin is staring intently at the ground, no longer walking beside me. Her hands are balled into fists, but they relax quickly. She shakes her head slightly and looks back up at me, no trace of the tenseness I heard on her features. “I mean, it just seems strange to me. Why do we still kill them when they change their minds?”
I’m confused by this unwarranted flash of anger
.
But I quickly recover and answer her question.
“Well, it’s because we give them plenty of warning in the beginning.”
“In the beginning?” That innocent curiosity I heard at the beginning of our conversation is in her voice once again. “What do you mean?”
I’m still feeling confused by what I witnessed, and I clear my throat to give myself a moment to get my thoughts in order before answering.
“I mean, at the beginning of the Death Wish submission process. When they first come to the Organization and request their Death, we give them a spiel about the seriousness of what they’re asking for. We ask them about why they want to die, what it is about their specific Death that is meaningful to them, and so on. And when they’ve answered, we tell them that they have one week to retract their Wish request. If they don’t retract, then we go through with the Wish. We don’t take Death Wishes lightly. When the organization was first founded, Godparents had
far
too many Wishes retracted at the time of completion. It was a real waste of time and resources, and it took Godparents away from citizens who actually
were
ready to die. So now the policies are a lot stricter, and that’s why the clients sign a contract and are given such a serious lecture.
If you come into our offices, then you had better be ready to die.”
Robin is quiet. Her face is turned down once again, but this time in thought instead of anger. I move over to her but hesitate. I place a hand on the center of her back and gently press her forward.
She finally breaks the silence. “Do you think the people that resist… Do they still want to die? Or are we killing people who didn’t realize they want to live?”
This is a really hard question, but it’s one I came up with a response for long ago.
I shrug before answering. “I don’t know. That depends on the person. But it’s not our job to determine if they want to live or not. We deal in death, not in life. If they wanted to live, they shouldn’t have submitted a Death Wish.”
“I guess.”
Her voice trails off as she once again goes into quiet thought. We continue our walk in silence, and when we finally step outside into the sunset she leaves without a word. I call to her, letting her know that I’ll see her tomorrow morning, but I’m not sure if she hears me.

Wish 6

“Hey, pretty lady! What’s up?”
Harrison’s voice buzzes from the pendant around my neck.
“Not a lot,” I reply, hitching the strap of my bag back onto my shoulder. The early-autumn evening is refreshing. The beads of sweat on my skin, warm a moment ago, turn cold as I walk down the street outside the Training Center. “What are you doing?”
“Just sitting on my bed, being bored. How about yourself?”
“Just finished my first training session with the pixie.” My mind is still preoccupied by Robin’s strange behavior. “If you’re just being bored, want to meet up? Maybe grab a coffee?”
“Absolutely! You’re by the Training Center, right? How about we meet at the cafe across from your apartment?”
“It’s a date.” I’m glad he isn’t busy. I need someone to talk to, and Harrison is always my first choice. “See you in a few.”
“See you soon, Elly.”
With a small burst of static he’s hung up.

*

The apartments where all the Godparents live are located within the Headquarters complex, separate from the rest of the city. This decision to sequester Godparents from regular citizens was probably made due to the secretive and exclusive nature of the Godparent career. But while those living quarters are only designated for Godfathers and Godmothers, there are still a variety of other businesses that have cropped up just outside the walls. One of these businesses is
The Roasted Roost
, a small café only a block away from my apartment, which is my current destination. I pass through the gates that separate Headquarters from the rest of the city, and two joggers on an evening run promptly change direction when they see me. I sigh.
I turn a corner and the small but cozy facade of
The Roasted Roost
greets me.
A neon sign outside the building proclaims that the cafe is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. A few customers sit on the outside terrace, drinking their coffee and enjoying the cool night air. I recognize a few of them from the office, and return their shouted greetings with a quick wave before pulling the cafe door open.
A burst of warm air hits me, carrying the scent of roasted coffee beans with it.
The employees at this shop are a bit of an oddity. Because their cafe is located right by the Godparent apartment complexes, the majority of their clientele are Godparents. So while most citizens are wary, nervous, or downright terrified of us, the
Roasted Roost
staff gets to know us on a personal level. And because they know that we’re just normal people with a very exclusive job description, they are nothing but friendly to the Godmothers and Godfathers who come through the door.
One of the baristas looks up and smiles, giving me a wave of recognition. I wave back.
“Hey, Jason. How are you?”
I’ve been coming to this coffee house ever since I became a Godparent, and I’m on a first-name basis with everyone who works here. Jason, a nineteen year old student and part-timer, shrugs as I walk over. His shoulder-length auburn hair is pulled back in a ponytail.
“Oh, you know,” he says, reaching back to grab a porcelain mug, “just serving up coffee for exhausted Godparents. How’s it going with you? Oh, and is it just you today or is Harry joining?”
“Hare’s coming too, he’ll be here in a few.” I set my bag down on the ground to free my wrist. “And it’s going well, we got a new recruit. I just started their training today.”
“Oh!” Jason waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Is he cute? Anyone I’d like?”
I laugh at his expression while placing my wrist in front of the scanner. There is a second chip underneath the skin which connects to my bank account, and the scanner
beeps
to acknowledge that I’ve paid for the two coffees. “Sorry, Jason.
She
isn’t exactly your type.”
He pouts and pushes two mugs of steaming hot black coffee over to me. “Damn. Well, you let me know when my type
does
get recruited, okay?”
He’s always asking me about the Godfathers in the Organization, and once informed me that he’s looking for a guy that’s more exciting than any of his classmates. I haven’t found anyone for him yet, but I still like to keep an eye out.
“Will do. Thanks, Jason.” After swinging my bag back onto my shoulder I pick up the two mugs and head over to a small table at the corner of the room.
Just like the outer facade, the inside of the café is small and cozy, with a dozen tables of various size scattered throughout the shop. It’s about seven in the evening, and looking around I see that there are only a few other customers inside. Near the window there’s a woman with short and spiky blonde hair sipping on a latte and reading a book. Sitting on barstools by the counter are a man and a woman who look to be brother and sister; they have the same straight black hair and slightly round build. It’s a slow evening, as the normally loud burble of customer conversation has been replaced by quiet whispers and the occasional
hiss
of the espresso machine.
I set the drinks down on a table near the window and sit in one of the padded wooden chairs. I pull one of the mugs closer and tilt my head down, inhaling the delicious scent. I take a sip and set it back on its saucer while the liquid of my drink rolls over my tongue in an explosion of rich, bitter flavor. While I take sips and wait for Harrison, my thoughts drift back to the training session with Robin.
I can’t figure out what type of person she is. Most of my interactions with her so far seem to indicate that she is extremely respectful and shy, but I’ve seen glimpses of a tough undercurrent. Like at the end of today’s session. She kept her voice level and only the clenching of her fists gave it away, but I could still see hints of anger like cracks in a suit of armor. The remainder of my beverage slowly cools on the table while I wonder about her behavior.
My first guess is that any anger she feels could be due to her father’s death. Sometimes, especially with the people who request death before their first century is over, the client won’t tell the people in their life that they’ve submitted a Wish. As a Godmother, I don’t have to deal with the aftermath, but one of the employees who works in the Clerical Department says that she has had to deal with enraged loved ones on multiple occasions. Spouses, children, parents—people who are so blinded by the love they had for the deceased that they can’t understand that death was what the client wanted and needed.
The bell above the entrance tinkles and Harrison walks in. He spots me by the corner. As he comes to join me I assure myself that, after going on some assignments with her, Robin will see that fulfilling Death Wishes can be one of the most meaningful and satisfying things you can ever do.
And besides, anyone who is officially inducted to the Godparents is past the point of no return. So if we don’t want to submit our own Wishes, we should at least try to find
some
meaning in the work we do.
“Hey, beautiful.” Harrison leans down to kiss me before sliding into his seat. He reaches to the edge of the table and picks up a small pitcher of cream, pouring it into his coffee. He takes a long drink and sighs happily, setting the mug back down with a light clatter. “Oh man. That hits the spot. Jason always brews the best coffee.” He turns in his seat and holds up his mug with one hand while giving Jason a thumbs-up with the other. The barista’s mouth opens in a laugh, and he returns Harrison’s thumbs-up with one of his own. Harrison turns back to me and reaches across the table to entwine the fingers of his left hand with mine. He takes another drink of his coffee before locking his eyes on me.
“So,” he says, drawing out the word to convey interest, “tell me all about her. How was pixie preparation?”
“It went well.” I give his fingers a squeeze while I take a sip of my now-lukewarm coffee. “She’s actually in great shape, so the warm-up exercises were a piece of cake. Unlike
someone
I know…”
I trail off and grin at my partner over the rim of my mug. Harrison huffs indignantly. When he was first recruited to the Fairy Godparents, Harrison had been a bit chubby. It took more intensive training to whip him into Godparent shape, but the results of those efforts are obvious. Now the bulge under the thin material of his navy v-neck sweater betrays hardened muscle instead of soft flab.
“Yeah, yeah, I was a chunky butt.” He rolls his eyes at my teasing. “Let’s move on. Do you think she’ll be a good Godmother?”
I consider the question for a moment before answering.
“Well, her physical skills won’t need much polishing.” My finger traces slow circles over the rim of my mug. “But I think she may take a little while getting used to the actual
job
. You know, completing Wishes.”
I explain the strange reactions of my new protégé to Harrison, but he comes to a different conclusion than I did.
“I don’t know, Elly, it sounds like pretty normal behavior to me.”
“What do you mean?” I’m surprised he doesn’t agree. “When I trained you, you never acted like that.”
He shrugs, pouring more cream into his drink. “Well, my situation was different than most people’s. Three of my grandparents submitted Wishes before I was born, and my Grandma on my mom’s side submitted a Wish when I was a teenager.” He looks up at me with the sad expression he gets whenever he talks about his grandmother. I squeeze his hand sympathetically. “I could see how much pain she was in after my Granddad left her. After all, they had been together for two centuries. And she had been around so long... I mean, short of turning to a life of crime, she had done pretty much everything life has to offer. When she submitted her Wish, she was excited. She said she was ‘going on to the next big adventure’. So when she died, I stopped thinking about Fairy Godparents as these terrifying death-bringers, and started to think of them as people who help others in their final moments instead.”
I nod. “That’s what I thought when I signed up too
—
” I begin, but Harrison holds up his hand.
“I know, and I know part of that is because your parents taught you to see the good in every situation. So you can’t help but view the Godparent Organization as a helpful service. But think about it: we are the
only
people who know about death. Besides our clients and the occasional coffee-slinger,” he says with a nod in Jason’s direction, “we only ever interact with other Godparents. So no one gets to see the side of us that helps people. They only know us as these scary assassins who work for the government. And, sad as it is, most people react with fear and anger when it comes to the unknown.”
I sink back into my chair. It’s true; my parents brought me up to be kind to others, and to always see situations from multiple perspectives. To “walk a mile in their shoes” as my dad used to say. And since Harrison was such a great student when I trained him, I sort of assumed that Robin’s training would be similar. I feel a tightness in my stomach. Can I properly train someone who thinks so differently from the way I do? Harrison squeezes my hand and I look up.
“I’m sure that she’ll be okay once she gets ingrained in the routine.” His words echo the thoughts I’d had before he sat down. “But until then, just do your best to show her the good side of being a Godparent. After all, you’re the best teacher I’ve ever had.” He smiles, and I return the smile while giving his hand a squeeze in return. I take a deep breath and let it out in a slow
whoosh
,
pushing out my fears. I hope he’s right. And with enough time and training, I pray that Robin will learn to love being a Godparent as much as I do.