Seeing Her

Death comes calling for every living thing at some point, even when she sends one of her agents around to collect. Most of those agents are simply doing what it takes to survive. Life, for the most part, feeds on death. Some, however, are unwitting and even unwilling, but they still collect.

Travis Leoni became one of those unwitting agents of death when he had lain on the lawn of the cemetery after placing flowers on his parents’ grave. A passerby thought he might need help and called for police to check on the “homeless man sleeping in the graveyard.”

The presence of the officer there meant she wasn’t in a position to prevent an accident. A driver in a hurry that would’ve slowed down at the sight of a police cruiser, blew through an intersection and hit a cyclist.

Travis, the officer that checked on him, and the concerned citizen that called it in had no idea of their roles in that death, but Death knew. She knew that the cyclist didn’t have to die that day. In fact, the idea that every living thing has a pre-ordained time to die is something people tell themselves to feel better about it. Living things, including people, die when they die and not on a schedule.

Travis left his parents’ grave behind and walked to the bar where he and his father used to share a pitcher of beer every Saturday. He sat at a table in the back, not wanting to be in the midst of the crowds on the anniversary of his parents’ passing.

The bar filled, and others sat at the table for a bit before leaving again. One man, however, dressed in a silk suit, sat down across from Travis with a glass of wine and stared at him until he responded.

“What do you want?” he asked the man.

“You look like you’ve seen Death,” the man said.

“So have a lot of people.” Travis emptied his drink and gave the waitress a nod for a refill. “I’m not looking for sympathy and I don’t need your advice or religion or whatever you’re offering.”

“You misunderstand me,” the man said. “I don’t mean you’ve seen the end of a life or lives, I mean you’ve seen her.” He leaned across the table. “Death with a capital ‘D’.”

The waitress set his fresh drink down and Travis handed her a bill and waved off the change. “What is that supposed to mean?”

The man smiled, but his eyes reflected nothing. “I mean that there are so few living things that have seen the Lady Death before she comes for them, it’s easy to pick out those who have.”

Travis harrumphed. “If there’s anything you see here, it’s survivor’s guilt.”

“That’s what you think,” the man said, loosening his tie. “But there are memories you haven’t faced yet.”

“So you say.”

The man sipped at his wine. “What is your employment?”

“I’m an EMT.” Travis said.

“Exactly. Of course, you didn’t even consider it before the accident.”

“Well,” Travis said, “you seem to know everything about me.”

“Not everything,” the man said, “but enough. You spend one weekend a month as a volunteer, right?”

“Yeah, I’m a vigil volunteer.”

“What is that, exactly?”

“I sit with dying patients in hospice care.” Travis stared into his drink. “I hold their hand, talk to them, calm them. I just don’t want them to die alone.”

“You are doing what you saw the lady herself do.” The man stared at Travis unblinking. “You’re drawn to her, and long to meet her.”

“I long to meet death?” Travis asked. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“That’s not what I said. I said you want to see Death, capital ‘D’, again.” The man touched Travis’s forehead. “Remember.”

The oncoming truck swerved into their lane. Travis’ father jerked the wheel to the right, sending the car into the end of the guard rail. The car flipped over the railing, sailing off the bridge, landing upside down in the creek far below.

Travis woke suspended by the seatbelt in the back seat. The headrests of the front seats disappeared into the crushed roof of the car, where water washed in clear and flowed out red. He knew his parents were dead.

Then he saw her. Though only visible as a faint shadow, he knew she was there to help. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he could feel waves of peace and comfort radiate from her to cover his parents. He saw their faces for a brief moment, smiling as they left with her.

When his awareness returned to the bar, he looked at the man through his tears. That feeling he had the night his parents died — that was the same feeling he tried to give those passing at the hospice care — or in his ambulance. He wanted to feel her presence again.

Travis dried his eyes. “How did you know what even I didn’t?” he asked.

“Because I can always see her,” he said. “And I know that she’s never far from you.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I help people who are dying.”

“That, and she’s sitting right beside you.” Again, the man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Travis looked to the side and saw only the empty bench beside him. He looked back at the man’s eyes and realized that they were not reflecting the lights around them. They looked dull, dead.

“What are you?” he asked. “No, ignore that. If she’s sitting there, why can’t I see her, but you can?”

“She doesn’t show herself to the living.”

Travis rolled his eyes on reflex. “She doesn’t show herself to the living, yet you are here, talking and breathing and drinking wine. You seem pretty alive to me.”

For the first time, the man’s smile reached his eyes. “Her definition of living is slightly different than yours. Any organism that can die without external forces is alive. As I can be killed but can’t die otherwise, she doesn’t consider me alive.”

“Then how did I see her last time?” Travis asked.

“That I don’t know,” the man said, “but I offer a way to meet her properly and then see her always.”

Travis closed his eyes. What was he feeling before seeing her during the accident? The shock of knowing his parents had just died hit him like a hammer. Having just relived the memory, he allowed himself to feel that shock and the blanking of his thoughts.

Travis opened his eyes and looked to his right. She was there. If asked to describe her, he would be hard-pressed to come up with any physical traits. It was her gentle, calm presence that filled him.

She gave him a sad smile and brushed his cheek with her hand. He felt her love for him, for all living things.

Travis turned to look at the man across from him and truly saw him for the first time. He saw the hundreds of years of post-death existence behind the facade of a man. He saw through the youthful appearance, paid for by drinking the blood of others. The vampire that sat opposite him was a husk of a creature, preserved but dead.

“You’re thinking about it,” the vampire said. “I can give you what you want. You should see how she’s looking at you now, knowing that she’ll be meeting you properly in a moment.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Travis stared at the vampire with his new sight. “I already have what I want, and you want to take it away. As long as I live, she’s here for me and those I help. You’re nothing more than a husk, shambling through your perverse imitation of life.”

“What? How are you seeing like the undead?”

“Undead? No, you’re dead-dead, you just don’t want to admit it. Good night.”

Travis stood and looked back at Death. With the knowledge of how to open his sight to her, she was easy to see. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you whenever you’re near.”