Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

can’t—”
    “I’m sure. Goodnight, Eric.”
    “Well…goodnight.”
    Casey hefted her bag onto her back and watched Eric walk away. He stopped once, about half a block away, to look back. She raised a hand, and he resumed his walk.
    Casey took a deep breath and walked in the opposite direction, stopping in front of Death, who still sat on the bench. “I suppose you want to come along? There will probably be two beds.”
    Death looked after Eric, who was just disappearing around a corner. “But it won’t be nearly as fascinating as if you’d gone home with him.”
    Casey shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
    “No. Not impossible. Just picky. Have fun at your cheap hotel.”
    And Casey found herself standing in front of an empty park bench, the breeze blowing an empty popcorn bag to the ground.

Chapter Seven
    Death was right. The hotel certainly wasn’t interesting. Gross, maybe, but not interesting. Casey lay in her own sleeping bag on top of the covers, far removed from the sheets, which apparently hadn’t been washed after someone with lots of dark curly hair had slept there. The cable TV wasn’t working, and the air conditioner made such an awful racket Casey wouldn’t have heard the Second Coming if it happened right outside in the parking lot. The temperature in the room really didn’t need lowering, either, so Casey turned off the malfunctioning equipment.
    By the time dawn broke and light began seeping through the too-small curtains into the room, Casey had gotten only a few hours of sleep and had had enough of counting the little dots on the lowered ceiling. She got up, moved enough furniture around she could just manage her morning routine of calisthenics and hapkido techniques, took a quick shower in barely heated water, and headed out, hoping nothing too disgusting had crawled into her backpack while she’d slept.
    The sky was brighter than the day before, and Casey doubted rain was in the forecast. It would be nice to be dry for at least a little while. She stopped at the desk to ask the sleepy, barely-out-of-high-school attendant where she might get some breakfast, and he directed her across the street to what she’d assumed was a closed diner, not having seen any cars there earlier. But inside the restaurant she was pleasantly surprised at the light and the cleanliness—both a nice change from The Sleep Inn.
    After a good mushroom omelet Casey brushed her teeth in the bathroom and asked the cashier if there was a library anywhere close. He assured her there was, right downtown, and Casey headed back the way she’d come the night before.
    Her path took her past the bus stop where she’d seen the fliers. She stopped to look again at the notice of the benefit for Ellen’s family. A garage sale. A fitting event for a struggling community. Probably not a huge fundraiser, but something these folks could afford.
    Walking on, Casey took one turn and soon stood at the doors of the library. Closed. The schedule on the window said the library would open at eight-thirty. Casey checked her watch. About eight. She slid the bag from her back and took a seat on the bench outside the front door. It wouldn’t hurt her to sit for a while. Her night’s sleep certainly hadn’t been the greatest.
    But by the time she was roused by the jingle of the doors being unlocked she was ready to move again. The librarian, a young man almost as wide around as Casey’s right leg, opened the door with a smile. Casey was careful not to knock into him as she passed. The slightest touch would likely break a bone.
    “Visiting town?” the man asked. Stacy, it said on his nametag.
    “Yes. Could I use one of the computers?”
    Stacy sat behind the counter. “Do you have a library card within our system?”
    “No. I’m from out-of-state.”
    “All right. How about a driver’s license?”
    She did have that, but she hesitated. “You hold it as collateral?”
    “That’s right. It’s the only way I can allow you to use a terminal.”
    Nothing new. “Okay.” She took her license from her wallet and handed it to him, watching as he set it in the slot for Computer #1. So no written record of her library visit. Good.
    “That’s your station, right there,” Stacy said, pointing. “If you need anything else, please let me know.”
    Casey thanked him and took her place at the computer. Going on-line, she first checked her e-mail. A gmail account. Non-traceable, and entirely non-geographical. She found the