Death in the City

he could focus his vision on the bill, which hung indolently in the windless sky. “Oh, no, I said river. You know, the river? I’m looking for this pastry shop and—“ Death stopped talking when the student pulled a lighter out of his other pocket and set the bill aflame, letting it drift to the ground and dissolve into ash. He and his friends laughed as they began to walk the other way down the street. “Wait, wait,” said Death, moving towards the students with an outstretched hand. “The river. Do you know where the river is?”
“We told you,” said a hulking, sweaty student with a stomach that hung well over the front of his gym shorts. “Right past Moron Street.”
“But you said Loser Street,” said Death. The students high fived each other as they walked away. They must not have heard properly. Death remembered the previous friendly city-goer’s gesticulation and, with enthusiasm, reeled back and spat a huge wad of saliva at the group. It stuck to the back of the dollar-burner’s shirt, who did not notice. Suddenly, Death remembered what Tim had told him. He looked up to see the great golden dome of city hall, glittering in the blazing sun. He felt just rejuvenated enough to continue towards it.
Ten minutes later Death found the public library, and a woman walked up to him. She wore a long denim dress and her hair was tied back in a tight bun. Death was slouched over against the wall of the library when the woman extended a hand to put a blue book in his face. On the cover was a title in gold lettering: THE HOLY BIBLE.
“Hello, sir. Have you heard the word of God?” she asked in a light and crisp voice that found its way into Death’s ears and brought him a great deal of comfort.
“Which one?” asked Death. He sat down against the wall. The woman sat down beside him.
“Sir, I’m with the church. I’m here to preach about the good word of our Lord. Have you heard about the good Lord your God through the view of the Enlightened sect?” Her words sounded carefully laid out, and she wore a look of genuine concern.
“Enlightened sect?” asked Death.
“We’re new. Listen, I wanted to tell you that you can be saved through the Lord God’s good grace. He can help people like you. And to be honest, you don’t look very far from your own day of judgement.”
“God…” said Death, stroking his chin as he took in everything the woman was saying. “Boy, I haven’t talked to God in…years, I guess.” He tried to remember the last time he and God had a chat. He was thinking about back in 1350, when God gathered the Horsemen together to talk about ending the Black Plague because Satan’s army was building much too rapidly. Death could not think of a more recent time he talked to the Big Man.
“It shows,” said the woman. “But the good Lord can help you. He helps all of us. If you don’t believe in the Enlightened sect, you may end up in Hell. Eternal damnation. Do you want that?” Despite the less than happy subject she still retained her sweet voice and smile.
Death was even more puzzled now. “The Enlightened sect? Wait, God doesn’t care about that.” The woman was taken aback, her smile now wiped clean. “God’s actually a pretty cool guy. Satan’s a little more fun to be around, though.” He noticed the woman’s look of disapproval and stood up to try to explain himself. “Not that God isn’t fun. I’m just saying.”
“Wow, okay, I think we’re done here,” said the woman. She held the Bible out and Death took it, examining the cover with mild interest. “Take the Good Book and maybe God will have mercy on your soul, if you repent enough.”
“Great,” said Death. He was so pleased that the woman would be so kind to give him a gift that he did not want her to miss his gesture of friendliness like the student had earlier. So he reeled back and shot a great mass of spit into the woman’s face. He stood facing her, wearing a great smile. Then, to his very sudden surprise, the woman put her hands over her saliva-covered face and sobbed loudly, gasping in sharply as she did so. As she ran off and turned the corner out of sight until her squealing sobs dissolved into silence, Death thought perhaps he had offended her somehow. He shrugged and looked up. The golden dome stood only a few blocks in the distance.
Finally he made a turn around city hall and to his great delight found himself right in front of the river. The spray from the white water rushing downstream cooled him down instantly, and he felt like a new Death as he searched for the bridge Tim had mentioned. He did not need to walk far before seeing the great “PennPenny Bridge – Erected 1863 – Burnt down 1864 – Rebuilt 1989” sign hanging above a bridge that seemed to be a hive of bustling people. Some were stopped to take pictures, others window shopping around the jewelry shops lined up along the side of the bridge. Most seemed to either be in one of the many tour groups or trying to get around said tour groups in a hurry to get across. But over the great sea of humans, Death could see a small white building with a sign that said “Voted Best Croissants in Hair.” There was his goal.
Death started across the bridge and was immediately toppled over by a large man whose chest muscles seemed prone to busting out of his blue polo. He turned to Death with an absolute scowl before collapsing to the ground. Death did not notice; he knew humans had goals and dreams, and decided getting to the pastry shop would be his.
Death felt as though he were swimming through people, bumping into children, elderly women,