7

Hart

 

                All in a fraction of a second he heard the gunshot come from Ralph’s roof. He saw the dust kick up from his roof from the shockwave and watched the leaves and twigs on the roof bounce. He watched Rhett stumble backwards and fall, dropping the rifle and for a split second he thought he felt heat and a rippling pressure in the air over his head. Finally he heard the sound of flesh tearing and fluids bursting follow by the thud and scrape of a lifeless body hitting the ground and sliding for a few inches. Instinct told him to keep running but his mind took over and he stopped.

                “Holy hell,” mumbled Rodge, as he had already stopped and turned to see the lifeless Reaper behind them. Hart felt Sariah’s head start to lift up off of his back but Rodge held it down.

                “No, honey,” he said to her. “You don’t want to see that.” But Hart felt otherwise. He felt she did need to see that; the world is like that now. She can’t be sensitive to things like this or once she’s on her own she’ll die.

                Hart set her down and kneeled down to her level and grabbed her shoulders to get her to focus her attention on him. “Run to Ralph’s, honey.” She nodded, turned and started to walk towards the house. He watched her and felt the slightest ounce of relief wash over him as he knew that for now they were safe. For now he thought again. Who knew how many Reapers were close behind that one. How many more threatened their existence. Hart Knew it was only a matter of time before the caravan came looking for their lost member. They needed to leave the valley but they couldn’t. Not without Rachel. And no matter how much he knew she wanted to be on her own, how ready she claimed to be for the world, and how much she continually proved herself to him that she was ready, he couldn’t let her go. Not yet. It wasn’t that she wasn’t ready it was that he wasn’t ready. He hoped that maybe if he could hold on to her a little longer that he might be able to convince her to stay with the family. His concept of survival was strength in numbers and to only full-heartedly trust family. Others could always be trusted, but family should.

                As he watched Sariah trot to Ralph’s house he stood up and looked to his right for Rodge. Out of his peripheral he caught a glimpse of him and looked over his shoulder at Rodge who was only a few feet behind him. Hart turned himself around and took a place next to Rodge over the dead Reaper. He personally noted how close the Reaper was to him when his existence was snuffed from this life and had the thought again that there had to be a higher power. Even though most people now days ignored the thought because what God would allow the World induce an apocalypse on its self? Only a God that understood that people needed to make their own decisions and be accountable for them, a God that would allow people to stand before Him and either ask for forgiveness or accept their fate. But what religion existed now except one’s own?

                “He got close. Too damn close.” Rodge grumbled, shouldering the sawed off in his right hand. Hart said nothing and continued to stare at the lifeless clump of what looked like rags. From beneath the hood of the monster before them was a pool of dark red blood that clumped at the edges as it met the dirt. “At least we know they can be killed.” He grumbled again, spitting at the ground without taking his eyes off the lifeless heap before them. Hart peeled his eyes from the Reaper and looked at Rodge and his shotgun.

                “How did that thing not stop him?” He said, motioning to the shotgun with a nod of his head.

                “Missed.” Rodge said his gaze ever vigilant on the Reaper. “Caught a bit of his back with it, though. That’s about it. One hell of a shot from your boy though.” He said finally breaking his eyes from the Reaper and turning towards Ralph’s house. Hart turned with him looking for his son only to find him still sitting on the roof leaning backwards on his hands staring at them with a look of what appeared to be utter amazement at what had just unfolded. Rodge waved that shotgun in the air as if to say thanks, then turned around to face the Reaper again. He pushed the Reaper over with his foot to look at his face only to find a stump of a neck. He did a once over on the rest of the body and finally said, “Well, he appears to be human. And living. I mean, hell, look at how much he bled.” Referring to the large pool of blood. “We would have been able to know what they look like but your son blew his head off.” Rodge stated with a soft chuckle at the end as if now it wasn’t just a euphemism but fact, and that amused him.

                Hart finally turned around to stare at the body with Rodge. He confirmed that, in fact, the Reapers head no longer existed in this world either. He also noted that everything else seemed to be as a normal human as well. Hands, feet, fingers, toes all attached to what appeared to be legs and arms which seemed to be attached to a human torso, but they wouldn’t be sure until they undressed him. Over the years of growing up you heard stories of Reapers. Of course they all differed between being aliens, the undead, demons, or men who had just gone mad after wandering the wastelands of the world for years. You heard tales of their superpowers. Inhuman like speed. Incredible hunting abilities. The fact that no one had ever seen one’s face and lived to tell about it. He’s heard stories of their super human strength. All of it fairytale though. Who knew how many of those drifter’s stories spoke any truth at all. Though some things were certain now. They were fast. Damn fast. He was sure that even if he hadn’t been carrying Sariah he wouldn’t have been able to outrun the Reaper. He knew now that they at least appeared to be living human beings but there needed to be further investigation on that. And one thing he knew now that they could be killed. Out of all the stories he heard no one had ever said that they killed one or watched someone kill one. This was proof. Sheer proof that there was hope when Reapers are around. You just need a high caliber high-powered rifle and a good marksman. But if they were human than really anything could kill them if you had the skill.

                “I say we burn it.” Rodge said to him breaking the silence.

                “I say we take it inside and find out for sure what it is.” Hart retorted.

                “And I say you can go f**k yourself.” Rodge replied, spitting at the ground again. “I don’t need no unholy s**t in my house.”

                “What about the shed out back?” Hart asked. Rodge mulled it over in his mind for a second before replying.

                “Fine. But after you’re done we burn it.”

                Hart didn’t contest to this. On the off chance that all those stories were true and this thing decided to come back to life with supernatural power. Best to burn it. He turned back to the house and called for Sten to bring the sled.

 

**********

                Rodge helped him lift the body up onto the workbench in the shed. Since the death of the Reaper, Rhett had come off the roof and received a tongue lashing from Ralph about touching his guns and ignoring elders. Sariah had helped in the kitchen with making dinner for everyone. Sten had been instructed to stay on the roof and keep a lookout for more Reapers and when Ralph was done with Rhett, Rhett was to do the same.

                It didn’t take much to hoist the body as it was smaller, lighter than expected. One of them could have done it but they were too superstitious to do anything alone with the body. Rodge had the sawed off sitting on the bench within arm’s reach in case the lifeless body decided to reanimate. Hart had a twelve inch piece of rebar with an end filed into a sharp point ready to nail the body to the table. After the placed the body on the table they looked at each other in silence realizing that neither one of them knew where to start. After a moment Rodge finally spoke up.

                “Well, I guess we could take the rags off seeing as without a head there’s not much to look at here.”

                Hart turned back to the body then nodded his head in approval after glancing where one should have been on the Reaper. They reached together to the center fold of the ragged robes where Rodge stopped and put one hand on the shotgun. Hart proceeded and pulled the one side off towards them. Rodge grasped the other side and flung it towards the back of the table, his grip on the shotgun tightening. Underneath the robe the Reaper wore more ragged clothes. A filthy white t-shirt that looked like it had been rinsed repeatedly over the years but never actually cleaned and some loose cotton shorts which were fastened with a piece of rope winding around the waistband. Hart reached for some shears to start cutting away the robes from the arms and then started on the t-shirt. After he had sliced the front of the shirt open he started on the shorts.

                After slicing the shorts from the waistband down each leg Rodge seemed to grow impatient and took the shotgun and pushed the shirt apart with the barrel. They started together at the chest and after a moment looked at each other with surprise.

                “No,” Hart started to say in disbelief. Rodge looked away from him and bushed the shorts away with the barrel.

                “Aw, f**k.” Rodge said as they stared at the naked corpse.