THE REAPER
  by Gay Bost


  Did you ever meet someone that changed your life? Sure you have;
we all have. I mean one of those people you meet, see a few times and
never see again. After they're gone you realize they left a deep
impression. In my life it was Maggie. But maybe I'd better start
from the beginning.

  I was looking for ... something. Like the song says 'everybody's
looking for something'. I was looking for something special.

  Maggie was something else.

  Her first words to me were, "I like to know what makes people tick.
It's a Time thing." Her first question was "Why do you hate cats?"

  I've never hated cats. They fascinate me. Dogs whimper and go belly
up. I only killed one dog. I felt dirty for weeks. But cats! Cats
fight you to the last breath. They twitch and dig their claws in like
they want to take you with them to hell. It's a rush.

  I told her I loved to look into cats' eyes. I didn't tell her when.

  I met her online. Women think you're *safe* if they meet you online.
I don't know why; they just do. We talked for weeks before I asked if
she'd like to get together for a cup of coffee. She was alone,
single, far from family and new to the city. She had two cats and a
10 gallon aquarium. She wasn't desperately lonely, but she could use
a friend. Just the girl for me.

  I know what you're thinking. I do. You're thinking I must be some
kind of no-win nerd to have to pick girls up on a computer. Well, sit
back, bud. It's a Way. And it works. For what I need it works
great. The cash outlay is minimal for getting to know chicks. No
movies, no popcorn, no hangover and, with an off-line mail reader, no
late hours. If things don't work out you insult the bitch and put her
in a twit filter. Life is good!

  She lived in Minerva Park and I had a place in Westerville. We met
halfway. I wanted to be there first so I told her 6:30. At 5:30 I
found a quiet booth along the wall facing the door and ordered a
hamburger. It was greasy-spoon quality, and cheap. I'd never been in
the place. It had been her suggestion. Just a place she saw once in
a while when she drove by, she'd said. While I sat and watched two
girls came in. Tight jeans, short jackets, that hard-soft look.
Trouble revving up for the night. They caught me and flashed teeth
and shoulder swivels at me. Makes a guy feel good, even if he's got
other fish to fry. I curled my tongue at them. One snarled her face
up and jerked her head away. The other winked. Women!

  Maggy hadn't given me a description. She said she'd come in and catch
a stool and check me out. She liked to play games. She'd done that
with me on the board. I had the feeling she'd met a few guys this
way, too, but I wasn't interested in her purity. When she walked in
I knew it was her.

  She paused just inside the glass door, looking around the place. She
spotted the three empty stools at the counter, marked her place with
bright hazel eyes and re-scanned the room. Her eyes found mine. A
satisfied smile threatened to break out, the corners of her mouth
twitching. She'd made me, too. Something electrical flew across the
room and hit me below the belt. I actually gulped.

  She wasn't beautiful but when she crossed the distance between us I
wasn't the only one watching her bounce inside her clothes.
She stood at the edge of the table, her hand held out, saying "Lee?"

  I took her hand and held the fingers between mine. I'd seen it in a
movie and used it ever since. They liked it. "What happened to the
stool gambit?" I asked, dazzling her with a smile.

  She returned it, letting her's spread past her eyes and into my soul.
She had to know she had a great smile. She slid into the seat across
from me, stuffed her bag against the wall and focused her full
attention on me. She made me feel like I was the only man in the
place. Everything about her said 'alive and planning on staying that
way for ever'.

  I don't remember what we talked about, if anything. I do remember
walking out of that place 2 hours and five or six cups of coffee
later. I remember putting her in her car, closing the door thinking
'I want you!' I remember thinking and feeling that so much that she
got out of the car again, wrapped her arms around me and cleaned my
tonsils for me.

  I logged on as soon as I got home and left her a steamy message. I
wanted my hands on her more than anything in the world. There was
a message from her to me, posted while we were still in the
restaurant, which read "A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou..."
That was it. A chill crept up my spine. I dreamed of her eyes and
the curve of her mouth every night for a week.

  Every night there were messages for me. Every morning I left replies
for her. At the end of the second week I started the fight. She had
alluded to her political beliefs a few times, but didn't seem to have
much passion for a fight. I could care less about any of it, but I
needed a prod and thought politics might do it. After the first
heated words I called her at home and told her I had to see her.
She named a park  on the other side of the city, saying she'd bring
lunch and a blanket. She told me to bring the crow. "And bring
your appetite!" she hissed, slamming the receiver down.

  I knew the park. I waited in the parking lot, remembering the last
time I'd been there. That had been the blonde. She'd gone down with
her eyes scrunched tight shut, screaming. A real fun date. I'd had
trouble hearing for three days. I was lost in the memory when Maggie
rapped on the window. When I got out of the car and took the basket
from her she saw how excited I was and thought it was for her. A
great reaction and I hadn't even planned it.

  "Oh, Lee," she said. "I thought..." she shrugged, bouncing softly.

  "Look, I'm sorry." I touched her throat with one finger, looking deep
into her eyes.

  She smiled, jarring my soul again. "Where do you want to go?"

  "Heaven?"  Right then I thought I might make it.

  "To eat? To talk? To touch," she said, taking my hand. I remember
thinking she was considering taking me wherever I wanted to go.

  "They were just words," I said after the blanket was spread on the
grass, after she'd pulled out a bottle of wine and two plastic
champagne glasses, after a loaf of crusty French bread had appeared.

  "Hush," and she touched a finger tip to my lips.

  I hadn't believed she was going to be this easy. I wanted her then,
there in the sunlight under the trees. I wanted her bad and it looked
like she could be real bad when she wanted to be. I held her and
whispered against her ear. I stroked her arms and kissed her. She
nuzzled against me and listened to my voice. She asked if I wanted
her. She pouted when I told her I wasn't prepared. She teased me and
made me wish I'd moved faster. She made a game out of it, playing
against the hunger she said she could feel.

  "I'd like to get under your skin," she confided in a whisper. "I'd
like to get into your head."  She chuckled against my chest.

  I started laying it out in my mind right then. She was going to be so
good. She might be that something special. 'Yeah, this could be the
one,' I'd thought. I made promises to her as the sun set. We laid
plans to make our dreams come true the next time we met. I swore I'd
be prepared.

  She put both of her hands on my chest, looked into my eyes and smiled
that special smile. She almost purred when she said, "And I'll be
ready for you."

  I considered an unplanned encounter. I'll admit it. She had me that
worked up. The first girl I'd ever taken had been unplanned. I'd had
to leave that town because of it. Six years later and more than a
thousand miles away I almost forgot the uproar that had caused.

  As Maggie rolled across the blanket to put the empty wine bottle in
the basket a car rolled by, reminding me where I was. I didn't
know whether to cuss that car or bless it. I still don't.

  Two days later I attacked her on another political issue. I told her
she was politically naive and socially incompetent. I told her not to
post to me again. I didn't twit her. I watched her rant for a week.
I dreamed intense dreams every night, waking up sweating, calling out
her name. I was ready.

  "You Jerk!" she raved at me when I called her. "How can you even think
I'd talk to you after what you said?"  I could hear her breathing hard
in her anger.

  "Because I think you love me," I told her.

  There was silence on the other end of the line. I waited. I thought I
heard footsteps. Maybe she'd thrown the receiver down and walked
away. This was part of it. I had to have this, too. The uncertainty,
the suspense, the possibility that I might not get what I wanted.

  "Excuse me?" she said. She sounded out of breath. I could imagine
her going to the window and taking deep breaths or hopping on her
stationary bike and doing a few miles.

  "I think I love you," I said.

  "Lee! You're nuts!" She slammed down the phone.

  I waited. I had a cup of coffee. I played a few games of solitaire
and watched the cards roll down the screen. I had a sudden urge to
log onto the BBS and see if she was up to something. A thousand ideas
rolled through my head. I called back.

  "Maggie? Can we try again? Can we meet? Can I..love you?"

  "What's the matter, Hot Shot? Is your social calendar a blank this
week?"

  "Ah, Maggie! Don't do me that way," I pleaded.

  "We'll see how long you can stay committed to this," she said. "You
give me some decent messages and try not to humiliate me for a week
and I might, just might, believe you."

  "I can't, Maggie. My hard drive crashed this morning," I lied.

  Again the silence. The receiver clicked. I smiled. She hadn't
slammed it down. This was almost as good as the real thing.

  I waited an hour. I took a shower. I listened to the radio. "The
reasons don't hear the Reaper, nor do the wind the sun or the rain.
Ah, come on, baby..." I sang, laughing. Oh, I was so ready!

  On the third call I woke her, she said.

  "Don't you dream of me, Maggie?"  I asked.

  "Every night, Lee," she breathed.

  "Meet me at midnight, Maggie," I begged. "I know a place. The night's
warm. Bring a blanket and thou. I'll bring the wine."

  She laughed wildly. I could almost hear her thinking. A chill crept
up my spine. For a minute I almost called it off. She was something
else.

  "You better be prepared to reap what you've sewn," she warned,
purring.

  "I am!" I promised.

  When she stepped out of her car I said, "Hot damn!"  She'd put on a
summer dress. Her neck and shoulders were bare. She'd put her hair up
with little curls hanging around her face. She looked great. Those
eyes hazel eyes shone with energy and life. I ran to her and grabbed
her up, swinging her around. She hung on and laughed. I hugged her
tight to me.

  We held hands, arms swinging between us, as we walked up the gravel
path to the overlook. A dense screen of trees blocked the view of
the silent road behind us. I took the blanket from her and spread it
out on the ground, sitting, holding my hand out to her to join me.

  She dropped to her knees in front of me, taking both sides of my face
in her hands. She looked into my eyes, searching for something. She
nodded just a little bit like she'd made up her mind. She kissed me
then, putting everything she had into it. She reamed my tonsils, and
cleaned, polished, and straightened my teeth. "Lee," she whispered, 
drawing back to look into my eyes, again.

  "Ah, Maggie," I breathed, pulling her down.

  She lay silently, looking up at me as I tugged the blanket around to
make a pillow for her head. Her lips curved in a soft smile. I
kissed her nose, her eyes, her brow. We locked eyes as I brought the
edge of the blanket up, and stroked her cheek with it. Her breathing
changed pace, matching mine. Caught up in my own need as I was, I
noticed that, and wondered why no one else had ever done that.

  "I'll love you for the rest of your life," I told her.

  "And I'm going to love you for a long long time past that," she said.

  I rolled over on top of her. She smiled sweetly. I wrapped my
fingers around her throat quickly, blanket between her skin and mine.
Her smile deepened. She didn't struggle much. I applied pressure,
looking into her, reaching out for that something special. Still,
motionless long before she should be, her eyes glowed, a green
reflection of something within. Her smile changed. A heat wave way
past believing wrapped itself around me, surged through me, and found
a place of its own. She laughed like she knew; like she'd put one
over on *me*.

  My hands took on a life of their own, crushing her windpipe, grinding
against the cartilage in her throat. She smiled wide, way past her
eyes and into my soul. Her legs jerked beneath me. Her torso
straightened suddenly. Something, something special happened.
Something like a cat hooking its claws and dragging me into hell with
it. I collapsed against her, listening for a heartbeat. There was
nothing but the sudden pounding of my own, doubly loud in my ears.

  I would have left the body there, blanket wrapped around her throat,
as I always did. Something else made me roll her up in the blanket
and push her over the edge of the rise into the tall grass below. I
watched myself do it, wondered why, and followed the urge anyway. I
went to her car, pulled the tail of my shirt out and opened the door.
The interior light glared. I stood staring at it for a few minutes,
questioning myself, before I got into my own car and drove into the
warm night.

  I realized I was in a daze of some kind when the waiter asked, with
some surprise, "You want two cups of coffee?"  I was in the same diner
where I'd first met her.

  "Maggie's goin' meet me here," I told him.

  "Maggie," he repeated. "Uh-huh. She's something else. Let me know if
you ever figure out what."  He looked at me like I had spinach stuck
in my teeth, frowning. "What's a matter with you?"

  "I don't know. I haven't been myself since last time I saw her."

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Copyright 1994 Gay L. Bost
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 Gay is a Clinical Lab Tech with experience in Veterinary medicine. 
Originally from NORTHERN California, she has resided in Southeast Missouri 
with her husband and an aggressive 6 year old boy, since 1974. She 
installed her first modem in the summer of 1992 and has been exploring new 
worlds since.  Her first and only publication, a short horror story, came 
when she was 17 years old.  The success was so overwhelming she called an 
end to her writing days and went in search of herself. She's still looking. 
You will find Gay's work in the best Electronic Magazines.
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