St. Elsewhere

The pearl white snow seemed to swirl around the man in black like water going down a drain. 

Despite the fact it was near zero degrees, he sat there motionless on the bridge’s rail, overlooking the icy river below.  A shiver ran down my spine and I couldn’t decide whether it was the cold air that bit like a starved dog or the black void that seemed not to care about anything.

Without thinking, I began walking to him. I didn’t understand why he was so alluring, but I had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen. Being a detective implants an instinct in you that you can’t shake. 

Truth be told, I didn’t know why I was out here either. The bars in downtown Jonus closed two hours ago, but I couldn’t go home. The blizzard snowed my car in and no one in their right mind would brave an Uber trip for $30 bucks.

As I walked toward him, the sound of the soft snow crunched beneath my feet like cereal. The wind whipped around my ears and burned them like an iron.

“Long night, huh?” I said to the man. The question came from a genuine understanding. My head felt like someone hit it with a sack of bricks. Going on a two-week drug-fueled bender would do that to you.

He sighed, indifferent to the question. I realized he wasn’t wearing anything that would protect him from the cold. No gloves, no coat or even shoes- just a pitch black suit. 

“Hey, are you okay? It’s three in the morning and you’re sitting on a rail that was built before they had building codes…not to mention we’re in the middle of a blizzard.”

The snow stopped falling. 

Gut feeling here, raising the red flag.

After what seemed like forever, he replied.

“Why aren’t you with your wife tonight, Tristan Elsewhere?”

The question caught me off guard. How did he know I was married? I wasn’t wearing my ring and there was nothing else that could have possibly given away that information. 

“How did you know I was married? Who are you?”

“Who or what I am is unimportant. What’s important is that you shouldn’t be here right now.”

“Humor me. Why are you here?”

The man in black let out another sigh and turned to me. His gaze alone could stop a man in his tracks. He was bald, with what looked like a skull tattooed over his real head. 

“I am Death. I am going to kill myself tonight.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Surely the guy was kidding. Even if he was Death, why would he choose Jonus, Ohio, to hang out in?

“Don’t think about it too hard Tristan. Just go back home to your wife, Gypsy,  and forget we met.”

“How do you know my wife?”

“It’s okay Tristan…Just go home.”

Suddenly, I was almost certain I was still high from all the coke and weed I had done leading up to this moment. My stomach felt like it was going to jump out of my mouth. Holding my hand to my gut, I turned around and began making my way toward the city. 

The walk back took twice as long as the walk toward the man in black. 

The bridge felt like a portal between two realities sometimes.

Jonus was built between two intersecting rivers, which made it a sort of an island. Built in the 1800s at the southernmost tip of Ohio, it was an important trade city.

The rivers brought the city fortune and prosperity for a time. It even became known as the City of Three Paths, after the three bridges that connect it to the surrounding area.

That is until other modes of trade were created and the rivers that made the city feel like an island began making it feel like a prison.

The bridges began to be used for other less desirable things - like people looking for a way out.

My job was to stop those people from taking the one way exit out. For the most part, I was really good at it. For a time, my nickname was Saint Elsewhere. 

The thing about building someone up like that is eventually the pressure crushes them. Go on a bender one time, now they won’t call me to save a drowning rubber duck from a bathtub.

Oh and I burned down the city’s Christmas tree - long story.

I reached the end of the bridge and checked my watch, four minutes past three. Looking back, I could see the man in black sitting on the bridge, looking down at the river. It brought me back to a similar night, not too long ago with a different jumper.

One you couldn’t save.

There was no way I could be sure this man was who he said he was.  Either way, did it matter? Could I live with myself if I failed again?

With a sharp hiss, the wind once again whipped around my body, stirring something in my chest that wasn’t there before.

This felt too real to be a hallucination, I decided. Gripping my coat tighter to my body, I took a deep breath and made my way back up to the man called Death, who seemed unhappy I returned.

“I told you, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah well, I am and unfortunately for you I am one tough bastard to get rid of.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigar. Smoking helped me think better and if this man was who he said he was, I’d need all the help I could get.

“Fine.” Death said, accepting  he was never going to shake me.

We looked out over the horizon. Even in the dark, the moon cast a light over the city, revealing the old factories and the Appalachian mountains that surrounded the city.

“So,” I said. “Why don’t we begin with a name, something I can call you.”

“I already told you…”

“Your real name. Death is too simple and it’s never that simple.”

Silence swirled around us while the man contemplated an answer.

“I suppose you can call me Allen.”

“Allen?”

“Allen Mortis.”

“I like that name,” I replied, taking a puff of the cigar. “It fits you better than Death.”

I looked at the water below us, judging the fall Allen would have if I failed. The uneven icy surface of the river below reflected the moonlight, making it look like stained glass.

“I’ve got to be honest with you Allen,” I said. “I’m not quite sure what happens next here. I’m still not entirely sure if this isn’t some sort of fucked up ‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’ scenario.”

“I can assure you,” Allen replied. “It isn’t. I had no idea you were going to be here and would still very much like you to leave me be.”

“Well, we established that won’t happen. So, I guess we’re just going to have to talk about why you want to jump.”

“No.”

“I didn’t even think you could die…assuming you are death.”

“I am and all things must come to an end.”

“I guess I didn’t think that rule applied to you.”

Just past him, for a brief moment, I saw the jumper standing not too far from us. She leaned on the rail so casually. My heart skipped a beat, I blinked and she was gone. 

Another puff of the cigar.

“No matter what you say tonight, it won’t change a thing,” Allen said. “You can only see me because it’s the witching hour. Soon, you’ll disappear from my world and I can take my life in peace.”

“So the witching hour is real? I always thought it was something that women told their kids to stop them from sneaking out.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about this world. About me.”

“Then cut me some slack and tell me why you’re on this rail in the first place,” I asked. 

Allen knew he teed me up for that and groaned. More silence, I was almost certain I was going to have to plunge after him and stop him from falling.

“I’m just so tired of everything being asked of me. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Not to sound like an ass,” I said, trying to measure my words carefully but knowing it was never going to come out right. “Your job isn’t a pleasant one.  Why hang up the scythe now?”

The ice cracked below as the water beneath it continued to rush past us. In the springtime, the paths below the bridge would be packed with people enjoying the river. It was my favorite place to go when I needed time away from the job and home. I even took Gypsy there on our first date way back in the day.

“Have you ever taken life before,” Allen asked, breaking my walk down memory lane.

The question gave me pause. I know on paper, my answer would and should be no. The truth is you can kill someone without plunging a knife in them or shooting them. I felt like I killed that jumper two weeks ago because I couldn’t save them from themself.

Grief has a funny way of doing that to you.

“I always tried to save it when I could.”

“But you never actually killed anyone,” Allen responded bluntly.

More cracking from below.

“I never minded my job,” Allen said, looking into the distance. “All things must come to an end and I was necessary for that to be true. But, death has become infinitely more complicated since I took this job in the middle ages.”

“What do you mean,” I replied, trying to hear him out.

“There are so many new forms of death and destruction I need to deal with everyday,” Allen said. “Wars, genocides and plagues are one thing.  Have you ever seen what a family annihilation looks like?”

That was a weird one to point out but it sounded familiar to me. After a minute, I realized a few days ago, news broke that a man executed his wife and children in the garage of their home one county over. The man eventually hung himself in the backyard of the house. 

“So, you were there for that.”

“Watched it as it happened,” Allen said, taking a deep breath. “A week before Christmas too. The worst part is that it isn't even the most gruesome one I saw this year.”

“It’s hard doing what you do,” I replied. “Can’t say I completely relate to it but I understand at least a little bit.”

“That so?”

Allen crossed his arms and looked over at me. 

I knew this was his way of asking me how a specter has anything in common with a mortal. It was going to hurt but if it was going to help get him off the rail, I was going to have to be honest. So I told him.

“On Thanksgiving Day, I found myself on the same bridge we were perched on now. A woman was leaning over the edge, watching the water rush below. It wasn’t frozen but the cold air had begun creeping up on us.

She was only a few years younger than me and she knew everything I was going to say to convince her to step away from the edge - it didn't matter if she was going to leave behind a loving husband who didn't understand what happened.

She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to explain the pit in her stomach as she leaned over the rail. She didn’t care that I watched her plummet to her death.

I still don’t understand why Gypsy did it. I can only assume it was something I did.”

I just wish I could have told her I loved her one last time.

We sat quietly after I finished my story.

“I’m sorry,” Allen replied.

“It’s not like you could’ve stopped her,” I said. 

“No…I guess not…” Allen said. “So… how do you…did you cope with your job?”

“It’s a struggle, like all things. You try to find the good in it and take it one step at a time. It comes with the job I guess.”

“People cheer when I fail at my job.”

“Ah… They know they can’t escape it. Without it all of this would be meaningless.”

The wind whipped around us again. In the distant bank near the river below us, I swear I see Gypsy looking back at us.

“You know…” I said, measuring my words. “I think you’re better than this Allen.  You know better than anyone that life is hard. People die and that sucks. The thing is though, you’re there at the end, to take them where they don’t need to worry about the pain and suffering in this world.”

I relight my cigar and take a puff.

“Those will eventually kill you,” Allen replied.

“Have you talked to my mother-in-law recently? I thought she was the Grim Reaper.”

Allen laughs at the bad joke.

“I could use someone like you,” he said. “To help me convince stubborn spirits to go to the afterworld.”

“Maybe, I'm in between jobs at the moment.”

I check my watch, 3:50 a.m. Soon our paths would diverge.

“Thanks by the way,” Allen said. “I guess I should keep going. See how the next hundred years turn out.”

Allen began getting down from the rail.

“Need any help?”

He raised his hand as if to stop me before I touched a hot stove.

“I appreciate it but…the living and the ethereal cannot touch. It would have…less than desirable outcomes for the living.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Allen shifted his weight and put his legs onto the ground. He was now leaning on the rail.

“For what it’s worth though. I can tell her you love her and you’re sorry for what happened.”

“I’d…I’d really like….”

Before I could finish my sentence. The rail Allen was leaning against snapped, causing him to fall backward over the bridge.

Gut feelings. What a pain.

Before I let my stomach get a chance to yell “I told you so,” I lunged for the man. Grabbing his hand, a  feeling of pain and numbness shot up through my arm as the force took my joints by surprise.

Don’t let go.

I screamed in pain while I tried to grab onto something solid. Allen’s hand started to fade slowly as the witching hour began to shut its door. Through the pain I could hear him, telling me to let go.

I pushed off of the concrete bridge, grabbed onto the remaining rail and positioned my feet below myself. That’s when I noticed my skin turning black and red. Tiny blisters began creeping up my hand from where I was holding onto Allen.

Don’t give up.

I could see Allen’s eyes, looking up at me as I strained myself and pulled. The feeling in my arm disappeared as I pushed my legs against the bridge. The black and red invaded my shoulder with the blisters following suit.

One last pull and he’s safe.

I mustered what little strength I had and pulled the being enough for him to grab a hold of the ledge.

Allen pulled himself up as my legs began to fail. The numbness began suffocating me as I leaned against the rail. My skin began to feel like it had a burning rash. 

Allen just looked at me, with a cool understanding.

“You know I can’t save you right,” Allen asked, crouching next to me. “You held on to me for too long. I’m afraid you’re going to die.”

“Worth…It….” I forced myself to say.

The world started dim. 

Allen leaned on the rail next to me and put his elbow on my shoulder and scratched his head.

“I mean, I suppose I could break the rules…just this once.”

At this point, the world was nothing but fuzz to me.

“Of course, you can’t go back to your normal life…You would be technically dead but still alive…”

Allen scratched his chin. 

“That won’t do with the higher ups unless you had a good reason.”

His voice started to fade.

“Why don’t you work for me…You can be a mediator of spirits. The ones who don’t want to pass on. It’ll essentially be the same thing you’re doing now.”

Without thinking. Thumbs up. 

What choice did you have?

“Good enough for me.”

Suddenly, the world came rushing back into my eyes. The air filled my lungs like I had just drowned and someone performed CPR on me.

Allen smiles wide and stands up. Extending a hand to me. I look up at him with dagger eyes.

“You’re half dead now, between worlds. My touch won’t hurt you. It’s why you can still see me past the witching hour.”

After a moment, I took his hand and stood up. 

“That’s the spirit.”

“So, what did you have in mind for my first job?”

“We’ll get to it, eventually. Let’s just get you home so you can rest.”

At the end of the bridge, the wind once more wrapped around me. This time though, it was as if it was caressing my cheek, telling me to turn around. Looking back at the bridge I could see Gypsy, standing where me and Allen were. 

I raised my hand to wave goodbye and saw a glimmer of moonlight fall from her face. Then she was gone. I turned back to Allen, who saw her also and put a hand on my shoulder.

After that, it took us ten minutes to find my car buried in snow. All I could think about was Gypsy. Who knows, maybe we'd run into each other sometime.

I didn’t even notice it began snowing again.