The Wager

Certainties are a funny thing.

Certainties are a funny thing. They fill us with such confidence that we would bet our lives on them. Knowing without a doubt that there is no way you could lose. We have so many ways of expressing them. A shoo-in, a forgone conclusion, a sure thing. Well, I can tell you now, our friend Destiny laughs in the face of your certainties. She thrives on the confidence people exude around them. But her favourite, her downright, absolute favourite, is when these certainties, these slam dunks, these cakewalks, don’t quite work out the way people had planned. Of course, she had known all along. Destiny knows every action and reaction that will ever happen. Her joy comes from people assuming they know better than life’s mastermind, and it is here that I transcribe her tale. Her famous yarn. When one of her own decided to try and take her for a fool and predict the outcome of life.

***

The snow crunched under foot in a metronomic way, hypnotising him. The slush had soaked through his shoes and into his socks and had frozen over again. The wind blew hard down the tunnel that the small country road had made through the endless pine forest. The beat that his feet made helped him march on. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. A twig snapped under the snow that fell heavy now, and the change in sound shook him from his reverie. He had forgotten how long ago he had lost feeling in his feet. His gloveless hands stabbed in pain that his mind did not register. He missed her so dearly. He held out his hand to where she would hold onto it, and if he let his mind go blank for long enough, he could feel her hand in his. A large tree branch snapped under the weight of the fallen snow and the stinging cold returned. He cursed out into the void.

He was lost. Not physically. He was heading north towards Trenton on Old Tucker’s Road at two thirty in the morning on January the sixteenth. No, he knew exactly where he was. Knew where his feet were taking him. It was his mind, his emotions, his habits and routine that were lost. Clarice had been the centre of his universe for longer than she had not. He had revolved around her like the Earth around the Sun. But she shone no longer. He was thrown out into the deep black of space, to transverse the nothingness all alone in the time he had left. So he did what he thought was best. He was making that time as short as possible. He would walk this empty road until the approaching blizzard consumed him and freed him from the drifting nothingness.

He noticed the car headlights behind him a long time before the car reached him. He cursed when the brightness took Clarice’s hand away and cursed again when the car started to slow down.

“Hey there!” The man’s voice was gentle and friendly. He wished it would go away. “Are you crazy?” The car stopped as the driver yelled out the passenger window.

“Please go away. Please keep driving.” He said under his breath as the man got out of the car and ran around to him. He stopped walking.

“You must have a death wish.” The man looked him up and down. “It’s ten below and you’re wearing a goddamn sports coat. Look at your hands!” The concern in the man’s voice was genuine.

He looked up into the driver’s face. It was kind and warm, even in the blistering cold. His thick, black glasses dominated his clean shaven face. He opened the door and gently forced him into the passenger’s seat. He did not resist. He was a rudderless ship, ready to be pushed by the currents in whatever way they deemed fit. If it wasn’t going to end now on this walk, it would end soon, in some other fashion.

“Are you okay?” The driver said panicking. He turned the heater up as high as it would go.

His feet were numb and pain shot through his calves and upper legs. His fingers hurt when he tried to close his fists. He heard the drivers words as the car began to move again, but could not register their meaning.

“I’m Maynard. Maynard Hawkins.” He took his eyes off the road to look at his forced hitchhiker.

“Jeremy. Jez to my friends.” He didn’t take his eyes off his hands as he opened and closed them, wincing as he did.

“Well Jez, lucky I drove pas…”

“Jeremy.” He said, cutting him off.

“Sorry?”

“I said it’s Jez to my friends. You can call me Jeremy.” Maynard looked at the man with a sideways glance. The awkwardness hung in the warm air of the car as Jeremy shivered violently.

Maynard switched the direction of the heating to point at their feet. “You might need to take your shoes and socks off. Your feet must be soaking wet. You’ll lose those toes quicker than you think. There’s a blanket in the backseat you can wrap yourself in.”

Jeremy did as was suggested. He had lost his train of thought and the pain that had pushed him to wander out into the cold was momentarily put aside, albeit still hanging over him like the dark blizzard that had blown in that afternoon.

“You must not be from around here to be caught outside like that. Are you from down south somewhere?”

“Born and raised not far from here. Lived in this area my whole life.” He said unemotionally as he removed his wet socks and turned to grab the thick blanket from the backseat. He pulled the blanket forward and something metallic clattered to the floor of the car. Jeremy reached down to retrieve it and pulled away quickly as blood trickled down his hand. Maynard glanced quickly at the blood. His eyes widened. He leant backwards and retrieved the large chef’s knife that had fallen to the floor.

“Sorry about that. Forgot that was there. Is it bad?”

“Not at all. Just a nick, plus the blood is warming my hand up.” He watched the blood run down his hand.

They drove on in silence. Visibility had dropped dramatically and Maynard slowed down to compensate. Jeremy could barely make out the trees of the forest as everything turned white around them. He jumped suddenly as a loud banging emanated from the trunk of the car. A muffled scream could just be heard over the sound of the fans that blasted hot air at their feet and the stereo which hummed softly in the background.

“Will you excuse me for a minute?” Maynard said calmly as he pushed the emergency lights on the dashboard and pulled the car over.

He gripped the chef’s knife that sat in his lap and opened the car door. The heat was sucked out as the storm battered the outside world. The banging sounded again from the boot. Jeremy thought of putting his wet shoes back on. He sat and listened as a loud scream pierced through the blizzard outside and then stopped suddenly. He had nowhere to run. He would be dead outside in ten minutes. Isn’t that what I wanted. He thought to himself. The thought of going back out into the cold was terrifying. He heard Maynard’s footsteps crunching on the snow. He got back in the car. The chef’s knife was red with wet blood. A thick line of blood covered his shirt and a few drops stained his glasses.

Maynard looked at him. Jeremy motioned to his eyes. Maynard smiled and removed his glasses, wiping the droplets of blood off with his shirt.

“Sorry about that. I thought he was already dead.” He put his clean glasses back on and sat the bloodied knife in the centre console between the two of them.

It dripped thick with blood. Maynard pulled the car out slowly onto the slippery road. Maynard had to lean forward to see through the snow that came down in droves. The feeling started to return to Jeremy’s toes as the heater blew down hard on them. He pulled the blanket tight around him as a Creedence Clearwater Revival song played softly on the radio.

“I was driving home.” Jeremy started calmly as he watched the blizzard building up through the windscreen. “From nowhere, just driving to get out of the house. It’s so empty without her. Just one big memory of what’s no longer there.” Maynard looked at him as he spoke. “And I just couldn’t handle the thought of going home and expecting her to be there again. So I stopped the car and just started walking. I was ready for it to all be over.” He looked down at the bloodied knife as he finished talking. Maynard followed his eyes to it and then looked him in the eyes.

“It’s hard to lose someone. Someone that was there everyday, almost an extension of yourself. When you’ve spent so long together that you’ve almost become one entity.” Maynard’s words were caring and gentle. “The only advice I can give you is that each day you wake up, and live as she would want you to, makes life that little less unbearable.”

“I’m glad you are going to end the pain. It seems much more pleasurable than dying out in the cold.” He looked at the bloody knife again. “Can you make it quick?” The words hung in the air of the warm car.

Maynard didn’t respond. They drove in silence for a long time. Jeremy was glad to be warm. Maynard hummed along to the Bruce Springsteen song that played quietly on the radio. The snow fell heavier and Jeremy wondered how Maynard could see where he was going. Maynard let the song finish before he spoke.

“I had every intention of murdering you when I saw you walking on the road. I couldn’t believe my luck. It’s not everyday you get handed a free kill. One where you absolutely know that you’ll never be a suspect. Old man lost to the elements. But I lost my wife a long time ago, and like you I thought that there was no going on.” He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to show a dull red scar running across his wrist. “Tried to end it just like you. Not well enough of course, but each day since then has been better than the last. You will come out the other side.” He paused thinking about his words. “No, you will never be as happy as you were with… What was her name?” He looked at Jeremy warmly.

“Clarice.”

“A beautiful name. No, you will never be as happy as you were with Clarice. But she lives on in your memories. You owe it to her to keep those memories as long as you can, and I’m not going to stop driving until I am sure that you are going to at least try.”

The change of air pressure was painful. The loud pop forced both men to grab their ears. The car spun on the road as the inside of the vehicle was filled with a black smoke. The sound of the back window smashing was dull on their painful ears as the car came to rest softly against a snow bank. The two men both looked at each other’s ears which ran heavy with blood. The cold air blew in wildly through the smashed window. They turned simultaneously, looking to see what had happened as the black smoke rushed out of the open window. The man lay in the back, a tangle of limbs, his black cloak twisted around his pale white body. The long, wooden staff that he held in his hand protruded out through the smashed window. The two men in the front looked at each other and then to the mysterious stranger in the back seat. Maynard grabbed the knife from the centre console.

“Fuckin’ hell that was rough.” A deep, morose voice emanated from the man as he tried to pull his cloak back over his head. “It is freezing in here.”

Jeremy looked at Maynard and gestured in a stabbing motion. The killer didn’t need any more urging then that and plunged the knife into the man’s bare leg that flailed through the air as he adjusted his twisted cloak.

“You can knock that shit off.” The deep voice said as Maynard pulled the knife out. No blood came from the wound and it healed up almost instantly.

Maynard looked at Jeremy with a lost expression. “That was my only idea. You got any?”

“No. But we’ll all freeze to death soon if we don’t do something about that window.” Jeremy said as he shivered in the blanket.

“I have duct tape!” Maynard said excitedly. “And drop sheets!”

He exited the car and opened the boot. Within a few minutes he had taped a blood covered drop sheet over the smashed window and was sitting back in the driver's seat.

The newcomer looked at the blood stained, makeshift window. “That’s gloomy even for me. Jesus that hurt.” He stretched his neck muscles. “Do you know how hard it is to land in a moving vehicle in the middle of a blizzard?” He finally had adjusted his long, loose black cloak properly and had placed the long wooden staff, which the two of them could now see had a long, curved blade on the end of it, across the back seats. “Sorry about the window…” He looked at the two of them. “...and the ears.” He motioned to the blood that ran from their ears down their necks.

They looked at each other in bewilderment and had still not spoken to their new companion and the irritation this caused, showed.

“Listen here you two morons. I have a lot riding on this going to plan. It is very simple.” He looked at Jeremy. “You no longer want to live.” His eyes shifted to Maynard. “And you kill pretty much every person you come in contact with. There’s no other way this ends without old Jeremy here breathing his last breath tonight.”

“Try stabbing him again.” Jeremy said to Maynard, ignoring the man in the back.

The knife went to the pale man’s chest. He looked at it blankly. Maynard pulled out the knife and shrugged to Jeremy.

“Who are you?” Jeremy said, finally acknowledging the man.

“Who am I?!” He yelled, annoyed. “Come on man, keep up.” The pale man’s voice was deep and sad, yet filled with anxiety. He was scared of something. He forced himself to sound menacing “I am the rider on the white horse, I am the bone man, I am Hel, The Grim Reaper. I have countless names through countless epochs. I am Death.” He sat up and towered over them.

“That’s neat.” Jeremy said as he wrapped the blanket around him tighter. The bloody drop sheet was not a great insulator.

“Neat? Jesus Christ. Look, Maynard. Can you just get this over and done with. I really need this one.”

“I don’t want to kill him.” Maynard smiled.

“I’ve seen you spend two days torturing a man because he didn’t return his trolley at a carpark.” He said to him in a judgemental tone.

“Well. I mean the return bay was like, right there.”

“This man is in pain. Each day is torture. His house will always be empty. That feeling of loss will never dissipate Jeremy. I have been around for a long time. I can see when someone has nothing left to live for.” The pale man picked up the bloody knife from the centre console and handed it to Maynard. “Come on, just a quick little stabby-stabby. It’s win-win-win.” Maynard grabbed the knife. “Don’t you want to feel that rush, Maynard. The orgasmic bloodlust that overwhelms you when you see the life extinguished in another’s eyes.”

Maynard looked from the knife to Jeremy. Jeremy nodded. “It’s okay. I want you to do it. You may have recovered, but you did not know my Clarice. It is like the sun being extinguished. I am constantly in the dark. It’s cold and dark and I’m all alone. Do it.” A tear ran down his cheek as he thought of Clarice.

The knife shook in Maynard’s hand. He had never thought twice about killing. He had killed people while they spoke of their newborn children, of their loving wives and families, of all the good they do in the world. It had never stayed his hand before. He dropped the knife.

“No.” He said.

Jeremy sighed.

“Oh for fuck sake! Don’t you know what she is going to do to me!” Death screamed in agony.

“You do it then.” Maynard said curtly.

“I can’t fucking kill people you peanut. I am the collector.” He held his head in his hands. “Oh man. What have I done? Why did I let her get to me like that.” He rubbed his face wildly in anxiety.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy said honestly.

“No I am not fucking okay!” Death screamed.

“Hey! He was just being nice. No need to be rude.” Maynard gripped the knife.

Death looked back and forth between the two men. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asked again.

“No. I am not.” His voice lowered a bit and he calmed down. “That bitch got me drunk. Started egging me on. Telling me I had no idea who was ever going to die. That I just collected the souls. A glorified delivery man. Egged me on to pick who was going to die tonight, asking to put a wager on it.” He sighed. “So I see one of the most prolific serial killers in history and a man in the middle of ending it all. It was a certainty. But no, you’ve got some sort of fucking Odd Couple thing going on.”

“Why didn’t you just pick the person in the trunk?” Jeremy said innocently.

Death turned and looked towards the rear of the car. He sighed in resignation, put his head in his hands and screamed.

Maynard had had enough. He put the car into gear and went to take off. The car’s wheels spun in the snow but the car didn’t budge. “Hrmm.” Maynard said concerningly.

“What is it?”

“The car’s stuck.”

Death’s head raised out of his hands. A smile broke across his face. “Yessss!” He said as he started laughing maniacally. “Yes!” He punched the air and he continued to laugh.

“I’ll try to push it out.” Maynard said as he got out of the car and Jeremy hopped in the driver’s seat. The wheels continued to spin in the slush.

“Someone will find us in the morning.” Jeremy said as Maynard got back in the car.

“They’ll find us frozen solid.” He said as he slammed the door. “We’re almost out of fuel, I didn’t realise it was that low, being a little preoccupied and all.”

Jeremy turned to Death. “Who’s the bitch?”

“What?” Death asked, confused.

“You said ‘That bitch got me drunk.’ Who did you put the wager on with?” Jeremy asked as he wrapped the blanket tight around himself and looked at the fuel gauge. It was almost at empty.

“My sister. Destiny. She thinks just because she knows everything, that she’s better than all of us. Stupid cow. Well I showed her. You two will be icicles by morning.” He laughed violently as he said this.

“What was the wager?” Maynard asked as the car started to sputter.

Death looked around outside to see if anyone else was around. “She bet me that if I couldn’t pick who would die tonight, that…” He paused. “Well I guess I can show you since you guys are toast. She said if I couldn’t pick who was going to die, that I’d have to wear this forever, instead of my cloak and scythe.”

He clicked his fingers. A cloud of black smoke surrounded him for a second and the air pressure chance once again hurt the two men’s ears. The smoke cleared and The Grim Reaper sat in the back seat wearing a tight brown UPS uniform. Complete with short shorts, high brown socks and brown cap. His scythe had been transformed into a package scanner. The two men looked at each other and burst out laughing. Death frowned quickly and clicked his fingers, smoke, pressure, and he returned to his natural outfit.

“I’m glad you clowns find it funny. Listen.”

The three of them sat in silence as the engine started to sputter loudly. The car shook and then went quiet. The silence of the quietened fans was devastating. The heat left the car quickly through the bloodied drop sheet. Jeremy pulled the blanket around him tight as he started to shiver.

“Not so funny now is it?” Death smiled.

Maynard’s eyes widened and he smiled. “Jeremy. Come give me a hand.”

Death eyed them as they exited the car. The snow was painful on Jeremy’s bare feet. Maynard popped the trunk. The corpse's eyes were wide open and looked straight at Jeremy and he staggered backwards in fright and almost slipped in the snow. Maynard caught him and made sure he was okay before he grabbed the shoulders of the corpse and motioned for Jeremy to grab the legs. They placed the man on the snow and stripped him quickly. His thick winter coat, his gloves, and to their delight his long johns. Maynard handed them to Jeremy and he stripped down and put them on. Maynard put the jacket and gloves on and they both ran back to the car. The clothes warmed them, but it was not enough. The cold air blew hard and seeped in through the makeshift window. Their breath became icy and the colour was lost from their faces as Death smiled upon them both.

“Is it scary?” Jeremy asked Death.

“Can’t say I’ve been through it myself. A lot of people panic if they die suddenly, but those who know the end is coming usually are pretty content on the other side. Those with unfinished business are the real hassle.”

“What’s heaven like?” Maynard asked. The two of them eyed him before they both burst into laughter. “I’m not saying I’m going there.” He said loudly over their laughter. “Jesus. I’m just curious.”

“I wouldn’t know. I only help you cross to the other side. I cut you from the bond of this life and lead you to the next.” He said proudly.

“Sounds like a glorified deliveryman to me.” Jeremy said as he smiled through the pain of the cold. Maynard laughed quietly. He was drifting away.

Death didn’t respond and the insult showed on his face. He didn’t speak as the two men became quiet as they shivered in their seats. They were moments away.

Jeremy’s mind wandered back to his younger days when he and Clarice had begun to first consider themselves a serious item. She was so beautiful. She exuded a confidence that balanced out his shy awkwardness. They had driven all night to a spot high in the mountains to watch a meteor shower that was supposed to light up the autumn night sky. The shooting stars captured their attention for all of about five minutes before their eyes turned towards each. They made love for the first time under a sky that lit up for them and them alone. It was a memory that warmed him and made him smile. It was a memory that was still alive inside him and one that he wanted to hold onto as long as possible. The temperature that night dropped more than expected and Jeremy remembered the two of them wrapped in each other's arms under the blankets, feeding off one another’s warmth.

He sat up in his seat suddenly. Death watched from the backseat. Jeremy shuffled over the gear stick and sat in the lap of Maynard who shuffled over to make room. Jeremy wrapped the blanket around the two of them and held him close.

“What are you doing?” He leant forward and looked closely at the two men. “Stop that!” They had their faces pressed against each other. “Stop it! Get back in your seat!”

The two of them didn’t respond. They just held each other close as their warmth collected in the blanket. Jeremy’s feet burned with pain but his chest was warm and he breathed into the blanket that surrounded them. Death sat panicking in the back seat as the two men ignored him. They ignored him for hours as eventually the dull morning light began to appear on the horizon.

“This is not fair! This was a sure thing! A certainty!” He began to panic. “Please. Please, I cannot wear that outfit. Please.” He begged.

“A deal is a deal Hel.” The woman’s voice was a shock to the two men who cuddled in the front seat.

They both opened their eyes. The beautiful, pale woman with long, straight black hair sat next to Death.

“Do it. Now. Or I’ll tell father that you do not keep your word.” Her words were like razors. She was not asking, she was demanding.

Death openly wept in the back seat. Tears streamed down his face as he begged Destiny not to make him. She sat deathly still. Death looked at her and sighed. He clicked his fingers. The smoke appeared and they held their ears in pain. The sun began to break through the trees, shining light on the white world outside the car. The smoke vanished and Death sat alone in the back seat. The tight brown uniform and cap made him look exactly like a UPS driver. He wept like a child.

The lights of the snowplow appeared on the road ahead. Maynard got out of the car and waved it down. The driver opened the door and Maynard spoke to him for a minute before coming back to the car.

“Come on Jeremy, I got us a ride.” He said and held out his hand.

Jeremy grabbed his hand and pulled himself out of the car. He stood barefoot on the snow. “Call me Jez.” He said and squeezed his new friend's hand tightly.

They hopped into the snowplow and the two men who had survived the night against all odds left Death behind. Death watched as the snow plow started to drive off. It stopped suddenly and Maynard hopped out and opened the door to the car, lent in and grabbed the knife out of the centre console.

“You’ll be seeing me real soon.” He said kindly to Death who looked up at him with sad eyes.

He shut the door and the snow plow drove off. Death looked down at his thin, white legs that protruded from his tight brown shorts and sighed.

The End.