Chapter 3: Human Instinct

It seems the human will to live lasts longer than death.

I turned around and ran. Throwing open the doors of the school, I sprinted through the empty halls. I never looked back, but I was certain she was following me. Hadn't she said that I was her mission? I made several turns down side corridors in order to lose my pursuer. Stopping at the school's back door, I looked behind. The strange girl rounded the corner into sight. Her glare of extreme annoyance sent me flying out the door outside.
Our chase took to the small-town sidewalks. I unconsciously headed for downtown. Daring a glance backwards, I saw to my surprise, that her unearthly form hovered half a meter off of the ground. Fueled by new fear, I impossibly increased my speed.
There were train tracks ahead. Their red warning lights flashed; a train would come speeding by in a few seconds. Throwing caution to the wind, I made a beeline for them. The guardrails had fully lowered and I ducked under the first one. In my periphery, the headlights of the high-speed passenger train sent me instinctively diving under the second guardrail. I lay on the ground, panting in fear.
As I turned myself over, I saw the train as a blur as it rocketed past. I smiled. In two ways, I had cheated death.
The smile disappeared in a snap as the girl in her gray robes phased harmlessly through the speeding train. Exhaustion disappearing, I scrambled to my feet, ready to fight. Clearly running wouldn't save me.
Suspended in the air as she was, it was easy for her to look down on me. "You don't have to end this way." she said. "If you'd only come peacefully-"
"I'm going NOWHERE!" I interrupted. "You're not going to kill me!"
Extending her arm to hold the scythe in front of her, she began, "This blade is made from human grief, pain, and sorrow. These emotions can tear a person and their soul apart. Even though you're a ghost, it will destroy and reduce you to the fundamental pieces of your soul."
I took a single step back, just like with my confrontation with Alec. It was a clever tactic I often used to shift my balance into a defensive stance without my aggressor realizing.
Looking up into her face, I could see her eyes close as she obviously composed herself. A thought flashed through my mind, "Who would have thought that Death would be unwilling to kill?"
That thought vanished as she dashed through the air, brandishing her scythe as she forced a cry of rage from her throat. She was closing in for the kill. The kill that was me.
"NO!" my brain yelled. I reacted.
As she flew closer, scythe shining in the sunlight, I leapt forward, too close for her to swing the long-handled blade. My hands closed around the cool wooden shaft and I spun in a half circle, wrenching it from her grip. A gasp escaped the girl Reaper's throat. I smiled with confidence, "I have her! She will not get me!"
Continuing my spin, I somehow knew exactly where she was positioned. I somehow knew exactly how to swing the strange weapon. The razor edge swung diagonally downward and connected with her chest, tearing it open.

I had forgotten about the blood.

Everything had seemed so surreal. To see and feel something as natural as blood was the most terrible surprise. My eyes remained unfocused, crimson being the last image impressed on them. Still effectively blinded, I hesitantly rubbed the wet tickle on my cheek. I already knew what it was, but I still raised my hand to my view. Now with something to focus on, my eyes regained their function. Red dripped from the smallest finger.
Overcoming the sensual shock, my brain broke from this semi-consciousness and took charge. Details of the scene before me gained relevance in my mind. I dropped my hand to look ahead.
The girl lay with her back slumped against a metal street lamp. Her eyes and mouth opened wide on her head that was lolled back, facing away from her torn-open chest. A chest that rose slightly in its labored attempts to breathe.
My hand released its grip on the scythe as I stumbled forward to her side. My own breath came in shaky pants that sounded healthy compared to hers. I pressed my hands to her wound, hopelessly trying to slow the bleeding. At this moment, she was no longer a Reaper after my soul, she was a person mortally wounded. "Mortally wounded by me; I did this to her."
With weakened muscles, she failed to hold her head upright. I relieved one blood-soaked hand from her torso and used it to cradle her head.
"I..." she choked, "...to Heaven... Heal there."
Heaven. The place where souls like me went to die. I pushed the thought away. "How?" I asked, "How do we get there?"
"Fly...carry me... up... You'll find it."
"Fly?" I asked. I was no Reaper. I couldn't fly. If I was anything I was a ghost. Could ghosts fly?
She must have sensed my concern. Thankfully her voice strengthened slightly. "You already have. You didn't realize it. When I chased you, you ran faster than your feet, remember?"
I didn't remember, but it didn't seem so strange that flight contributed to my unusually fast pace as I fled.
Awkwardly, I wrapped one arm around her back and one under her knees. I picked up her surprisingly light body and jumped into the air. It did not startle me that I didn't fall. I had no room to doubt. Her life was in danger and I needed to trust her without hesitation. Almost like moving a muscle, I headed upwards, far above my hometown until something, a light? a fog? blinded me.
I had made it to Heaven.

I hoped they could save her here, but at the same time, I might be judged.

Author's Note

My original plan was for Aaron to use magical tendrils of light to take the scythe away, but this way seems more human. The original idea would have justified a later part, but I think it will be fine anyway.