Still he did not really have much else to complain about the body of the singer, Hudson had kept himself in good shape, and he was brutally handsome, with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes, it was that he was just so darn tall. All in all he felt though that he maybe had not got such a bad deal.
The only thing that had not gone strictly according to plan, was the actual swapping of the souls. Azareal - or whoever - miscalculated the swap time and Hudson's soul had been taken out too soon. Therefore he had actually died. The angel had said that this was not a problem though and had promised to place Spencer in the body in the chapel of rest, where he could sneak out and slip away. But the bungling fool had placed him in the stiff during the service and the only way Spencer could avoid being cremated for a second time was to get up and do a runner.
There had been some unpleasantness.
Rather a lot actually.
It did not bear thinking about. So we won't. Suffice it to know that Spencer had got away and was now heading for his old house. Something the angel had specifically warned him not to do. He did not know what he was only to do once he got back to his house, since it had been sold on since his demise but he was determined to go back there.
A few people had given him funny looks as he made his way towards Bromley and home, he had been giving them stroppy stares back until he realised that he must have looked a little strange. Not only was he now in the body of the world famous pop singer Leif Hudson, he was also in the body of the world famous dead pop singer Leif Hudson.
He kept a bit of a low profile after that realisation, although a couple of young girls did approach him for his autograph. Then went off disappointed wondering who the hell Spencer Conner was.
"Station Park Road," Spencer muttered, looking longingly at the road name at the top of his old road. His eyes transversed the road until they came to rest on number 28, his old home. A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he watched the house, he never realised how much he missed his old life until now.
Spencer wiped away a tiny tear that had formed in his right eye and began to walk down the road.
"That isn't be a good idea Spencer," a female voice said from behind him.
Spencer span around to face the owner of the voice.
"Aye caromba," he muttered.
Now if this was a movie (which no doubt it probably will be one day) then the shot would have started on the woman's tiny high heeled shoes, moved slowly up her tanned shapely legs. Then depending on what certificate it received it would have traversed quickly or slowly over her curvaceous olive skinned body, paused for a moment on her perfect shoulders. Before finally resting on her angelic face with those huge brown eyes behind a pair of trendy slim glasses and those pouting lips, all framed by a mane of deep auburn hair.
At least if I was shooting the picture it would have.
"Hi," the woman said.
"Er-?" Spencer said somewhat lost for words. "How do you know who I really am?"
"I am an emissary from the Lord, I have come to advise you," she said. "I am called One of Nine, I am your personal guardian angel and holistical adviser on this first task."
"One of Nine?" Spencer smirked. "So am I going to meet two of nine, three of nine etc?"
One of Nine smiled a smile that reduced Spencer's knees to jelly. "Yes. I am just here to assist you with your first assignment. You can call me Nine."
"Okay that's fine, Nine," Spencer said. "I'll be off then."
"Hold it Spencer, I would not go down there if I were you."
"Wouldn't you, why not?"
"You have a new life now. You should not have any contact with anything to do with your former existence."
"That doesn't explain why?"
"Because we say so and that's that," Nine said. "And seeing as you are in our debt for the time being, you should do as we say. What the lord giveth the lord can taketh away."
Spencer sighed. "So I guess that now I have to go and save someone's life," he said, but he was thinking 'just you wait until you are out of the way and I am right back here'.
"Yes you do and no you will not," Nine said, answering his statement and reading his mind.
"Just tell me who they are," Spencer snapped.
"Hey don't get angry with me," Nine said. "I am here to help you. If you want to redeem Hudson's soul and live a long and fruitful life, then you had better be civil to me."
"Sorry it's been a long day."
"Okay. Now the person is in grave danger at this very minute, her husband is about to attack and kill her. So you better move your arse."
"But I haven't got any transport how will I get anywhere?"
"This one is within walking distance, it's only around the corner. Her name is -
Amanda Jenkins slapped her husband’s face. "Get out of my face, you spineless moron!" she yelled at the top of her voice. "I never want to see you again."
David Jenkins, a small, quiet man in his late thirties, backed away from his smaller but more overpowering spouse. They had been married for ten years now and the arguments had grown worse and worse, until now they were so vehement that he would run a mile rather than risk a confrontation with his unsatisfied wife.
"Calm down Amanda," David said, softly. He had had a tough day at the office and was in no mood to face a barrage of insults about him and his manhood the moment he walked in. There is only so much a man can take. Even a mild mannered man like himself.
"Calm down?" his wife bellowed. "If I had a real man for a husband, instead of a sexual inadequate like you, I would be calm."
"Be quiet," David said. "I've had a very bad day today."
"I beg your pardon?" Amanda sneered. "Did you utter something?"
"Be quiet please," David repeated and his voice was almost pleading. "I'm warning you."
Amanda treated her husband to a snort of derision; he was worth no more in her eyes. He was a wishy washy nobody, who worked in a crap job, for a pittance of pay and could not be assertive to save his life. "Are you threatening me?" she asked. "Because if you are let me tell you, I am not scared of you, if-"
"Shut up!" David roared, he had finally come to the end of this tether. Ten years of frustration, resentment and suppressed anger had finally come to the boil. It was about to explode. "Just be silent, keep your fat mouth shut," he went on angrily.
Amanda fell deathly silent. She saw something in David that she had never seen before, some hidden menace that she had never noticed but had been lurking around inside him. Most of all she saw something had she had never thought her husband possessed, anger.
Spencer rushed down the street like a madman, his heart beating madly and his head pounding. He had never been one to exercise in his old body but luckily Hudson had been quite fit, and he was getting used to controlling the outer extremities now, although he was not looking forward to going to the toilet, holding someone else's - ugh!
Anyway, we have gone off the plot a bit, Spencer charged down the street, took the corner on one leg and hammered down the road, like the hounds of hell themselves were after him.
This is ridiculous I am never going to make it in time, he thought.
It looked like he was going to be right.
David sighed, as if he had come to some decision had he did not want to come to. "I'm sorry."
David glanced to one side; Amanda noticed and followed his gaze. She saw their set of kitchen knifes and a chill went down her spine. "David no," she gasped.
"I'm sorry," David repeated, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He picked up the largest of the stainless steel knives.
"No please David," Amanda pleaded.
David took a step towards her the knife threateningly in his hands. "I really am sorry," he said and lunged at her.
"Hold it right there!" Spencer cried, bursting into the kitchen like a SS Gestapo squad, he had somehow managed to get down the street, through the front door and into the kitchen in the time it took David to pick up the knife and attack his wife - Hmm…but moving swiftly along.
David turned a surprised look on his face, Spencer spun a mighty roundhouse punch that caught him full on the chin. He went down like a sack of potatoes.
"Ouch!" Spencer exclaimed, clutching his knuckles. "That hurt."
Amanda was motionless on the floor, similarly looking to her husband, except she had a patch of red…of blood on her dress in her side.
"Shit!"
Spencer crouched down beside her and tried to remember if he knew any first aid, apart from loosening the clothes, he knew nothing, and that did not seem to be of any use in this case.
"She is mine Spencer," a deep voice said.
By Cher crotch, does everyone know who I really am? Spencer thought. Who the hell are you? He was about to ask but when he saw the newcomer it was pretty obvious who he was. The long black robes, the boney complexion, the skeleton-like figure and the huge scythe were a bit of a give away.
"Death." Spencer stood up between Amanda and the hooded figure.
"That is one of the names I am known by, but I prefer Jeff."
"Jeff Death?"
"Just Jeff if you please. Now would you kindly move away so I can take what is rightfully mine."
"No. First tell me how you know who I am?"
"I know all," Jeff said. "I read peoples life-force, not their physical forms. Now move aside, the woman is mine."
"No she's not, I have been assigned to save her and I will," Spencer said.
"She is due to die," Jeff said.
"Not yet she’s not."
"You dare to oppose my will?"
"I'll have you writing one if you try to take his woman," Spencer said with more bravado than he felt.
"Enough of this." Jeff swung his scythe past Spencer towards Amanda, Spencer grabbed it by the handle and directed it past the prone figure of the woman, it crashed into the tiled floor spraying the kitchen with sparks.
"You will pay for that." Jeff said, swinging out a boney hand and knocking Spencer across the room. Just like those magnificent men in their flying machines our hero flew through the air with the greatest of ease, unfortunately it was the landing that left a lot to be desired. He smashed into the counter top, knocking kitchenware, plates and other assorted cutlery everywhere.
"Stay out of this Human," Jeff ordered. "You do not know what you are meddling in."
"I have been charged with saving her life." Spencer, being a hero of sorts was unhurt. He had made it to his feet and was eyeballing Jeff from across the kitchen.
"To redeem your soul?" Jeff chuckled and surprisingly it was a mirthful laugh, not what Spencer would have guessed - Which just goes to show that you should not prejudge people. "That clown Azareal never tires of sending poor dumb saps like you down to even things out a bit."
"Azareal? Even things out?"
"Azareal, you must know him. An angel, always dresses in grey."
"Oh yes I know him all right. The bastard who took me before my time."
"That is the fellow. Heaven is losing the eternal war you see. All that about good triumphing over evil is all a crock of shit. Evil is winning and Azareal is panicking, he knows that God will have his balls for breakfast if he finds out that evil is beating good hand over fist."
"I must say that you are not the sweet tongued deceiver that I imagined," Spencer said.
"That's the Devil you idiot."
"Oh is it. So how do you know all about the eternal war?"
"I am Death."
"Oh sorry, HOW DO YOU KNOW ALL ABOUT THE WAR?"
If Jeff had had a face of sorts he would have been pulling a grimace of contempt, as it was he just gave Spencer a skinfree impassive stare. "That is really a crap joke."
"Sorry I don't know what came over me."
"Too much Noel's house party," Jeff said. "Now could you please stop trying to distract me. I am a very busy person and I have a job to do here."
"No!" Spencer leapt as Jeff raised the scythe again; he sailed across the kitchen and hit the collector of souls in his midriff. Both of them went down in a bundle of legs. Arms, bones, black robes, cursing and damning.
Spencer was the first to untangle himself, he jumped to his feet, gave Jeff a kick in the happy sacks - he did not know whether Jeff had anything down there but he took a chance - and grabbed Amanda up in his arms. Which is easier written than done. "Sorry Jeff but you're not going to have this one, I have to save her life. I owe it too her to-"
STOP TALKING AND GET THE SMEG OUT OF THERE! Screamed a voice in his brain, cutting right across his melo-dramatic posturing.
He did. He ran for his life.
As Spencer made his way down the road towards the hospital, carrying the prone body of Amanda he considered two things firstly, it was not as easy to run with a fully-grown woman in your arms as it looked on TV and secondly, he had just assaulted Death. That could not be good. He supposed that Death was one of the good guys really. He did relieve people of the suffering of life sometimes.
"Shit!" he cursed, as he nearly dropped the woman for the umpteenth time, less considering and more concentration on running, he decided, getting the right hump now. I don’t deserve this.
A third consideration entered his thoughts then. How was he going to get to the hospital in time, carrying a most probably dead woman and with the collector of souls at his heels? Spencer groaned inwardly, what with dying and everything this was turning into a very bad day.
What I need is a cab, he decided. Yeah right a cab in Bromley, his snidey inner voice mocked, we’re not in the middle of London, this is Kent, no cabs here.
There was a screech of brakes; the smell of burning rubber and a black cab skidded up to the kerb right beside him. Nine lent across from the driver’s seat and grinned. "Hey buddy need a ride?"
"Bromley hospital." Spencer clambered clumsily into the back clutching Amanda and managed to knock her head on the door for her troubles. "It’s the nearest one, go!"
They did.
There were a few problems at the hospital, namely the fact that what was a well-known recently deceased singer like Leif Hudson, doing carrying a nearly dead woman into the reception. The receptionist sensed that the tabloids would not be far behind and began to panic.
Spencer had responded by firstly trying to explain that he had happened to be in the area and heard her and her husband fighting and intervened. When no one had believed him though, he changed tact and tried to pass himself off as some sort of mythical Crow type hero. Unfortunately when the receptionist had not brought that, he had lost his temper and threw a wobbly that even James Cameron would have been proud of.
That is when the hospital security staff turned up.
Unfortunately during the melee that followed a few more people ended up needing medical attention and it all ended up with Spencer being forcibly ejected from the reception area and told to wait in the car park.
"Nicely done," Nine said.
"Shut up," Spencer said. "You might have given me a little help."
"Me fight? I am a holistical advisor pal not your body guard…oh and by the way you got a few more black marks against your soul."
"What for? That fight? That wasn’t my fault…well maybe a little…hmm okay perhaps it was my fault but they started the fisticuffs."
"Nevertheless fighting is a sin," Nine said.
"Oh yeah and of course the lord almighty never smote anyone one ever did he?" Spencer said sarcastically.
"So you deem to judge God now do you?" Nine asked. "You are heading into a lot of trouble Mister."
Spencer gave a miserable shrug. "I’m already dead what more can he do?"
"You’d be surprised."
Spencer was about to answer when he caught sight or a familiar looking figure climbing out of the back of a cab.
"Oh shit Death."
"That’s Jeff if you please." Death had tipped the cabby and was now heading towards Spencer his scythe raised ready. You could not really tell from his face but he was really pissed off.
"Oh shit." Spencer repeated, ducking out of the way of the swinging scythe. "Hey Jeff give it up, she’s in the hospital, she’s going to be all right."
"Not if I can get there soon enough," Jeff grinned, but then with a skull for a face he was always grinning.
Spencer dived out of the way of the scythe again; this was ridiculous how could he fight a person with a weapon like that?
He could not, but he could run. No, that would mean leaving Amanda to die. He had to stay and fight the- "Ooof!" he exclaimed as the handle of the scythe caught him in the midriff, he went down like a sack of spuds.
Jeff loomed over him his permanently grinning face seeming to smile just that little bit more. He gave Spencer a kick in the goolies. "That is one I owe you," he said. "Now if you don’t mind I will be moving on now, Amanda is waiting for me."
"No," Spencer gasped; it was all he could manage.
"Yes," Jeff said.
"Excuse me," Nine said tapping Jeff on the shoulder.
The collector of souls turned around, to be greeted by the fist of Nine. He then took his turn to go down like a sack of potatoes.
Nine grabbed Spencer and dragged him to his feet. "Come on let’s get him in the back of the cab."
"Er…thanks," Spencer mumbled, staggering around like a drunken bum clutching his throbbing ‘men’s bits’.
"Come on Spencer get with it," Nine said. "You must get him into the back I cannot interfere."
"You are joking of course, didn’t you just lamp him one?"
Nine shook her head firmly. "No you did."
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"But I thought…" Spencer was mightily confused.
"I could not have I am forbidden to interfere," Nine said. "So it must have been you."
"I don’t really care," Spencer muttered, dragging the body of Jeff towards the cab. "Where are we going to?"
"Anywhere. As long as it is away from here."
"But what about Amanda?"
"She will be all right in a few minutes, as long as he doesn’t get to her."
Twenty minutes later they were many miles away and Nine stopped the car. Jeff was conscious now and watching them from the back seat.
"Congratulations Spencer you have successfully saved your first life," he said, in what Spencer thought was an not unfriendly voice. "I believe you are the first one to ever do that."
"What?" Spencer was not quite sure that he had heard Jeff correctly.
Jeff chuckled. "Oh you mean you did not realise that no one that ever succeeded before? Why doesn’t that surprise me. They did not mention that?"
Spencer glared at Nine.
"Don’t look at me it isn’t anything to do with me," she said.
"Don’t worry you won this time Spencer," Jeff continued. "But enjoy it while you can because you will not have it so easy next time." The lord of death shimmered slightly and then disappeared.
"I have been well stitched up," Spencer said. "That bastard Azareal if I ever see him again he’ll be sorry."
"Look on the bright side," Nine said. "One down eight to go."
Spencer groaned inwardly. "Boom shanka."
Bio:Craig Cornwell has been writing for fifteen years with about as much success as any one can expect. His web-page http://www.renaissance2000.freeserve.co.uk/ showcases a few short stories and the serialisation of his unpublished first novel.
E-mail: Gerlber@aol.com
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