My apologies for this being the only post this week. I’m just recovering from a short illness. As always, you can find part 1 of this short story here. Or if you like David McLain’s style, please consider his hilarious time travel fantasy, The Time Traveller’s Resort and Museum!
Then, keep reading…
They stopped for dinner in Gary, Indiana, at a place that specialized in Fried Chicken. William felt better than he had in weeks. Checking his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he noticed that his eyes were clearer looking, and that his shoulders looked a little broader. His hands were distinctly less gnarled, and his fingernails didn’t have that yellow quality that they’d had in recent years. He looked like a man of seventy, maybe sixty five. Death looked better too. They looked less like two men at the end of their lives, and more like two guys in their golden years who were enjoying life. There was no doubt about it, the car might be going forward, but the miles were rolling back.
“Where are we staying tonight?” William asked.
“We’re near the city,” Death said. “I thought we’d find someplace nice.”
They stayed in a beautiful hotel in Downtown Chicago, where their room had a giant flat screened television and a little kitchen. They had a few drinks and some dessert in the hotel restaurant before heading upstairs. A young waitress with crooked teeth took their order, and was very nice to them. William found himself in a good mood.
“You’re a good guy,” he said to Death after his second drink.
“Thanks,” Death said.
“Most people don’t like you,” he added. He probably shouldn’t have said this, but it seemed like a fairly obvious point.
“It’s never a good day when I come around,” Death said. “But that isn’t my fault.”
“Is this just what we do now?” William asked. “Drive around from place to place, having a good time?”
“No,” Death said, and he had a serious look on his face. “This is merely the journey.”
This sobered William up a little. “Then what comes next?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” Death said.
In the morning William was pleased to see that some of the hair had filled in on the top of his head. It wasn’t so much that you’d notice, or really care, but it was nice to see. Some of it, he noticed, was brown instead of gray. The veins which had seemed so close to the surface in his hands and his feet seemed more subdued. Death was still getting younger too. They got up early, had breakfast in the hotel, and headed for downtown Chicago.
Death was clear that they didn’t have a lot of time to waste, but Chicago is a beautiful city, so they stopped and went to the art museum. William had never been there before, and he enjoyed wandering around, looking at priceless works of art. Somewhere in between an Edward Hopper painting and a Suerat, William thought of something.
“All these painters,” he whispered so that only Death could hear. “They’re all dead?”
“Yes,” Death said, “I suppose that they are.”
“So you met them all?”
“At one point or another,” Death reflected.
“How’d they take it?” William asked.
Death considered this. “Most came quietly. A few fought tooth and nail. One or two grinned at me like I was a long lost relative. I tell you one thing though- none of them seemed surprised.”
“Is that so?”
“Not even the ones I had to drag out of bars,” Death said. “Although I suppose if you spent that much time in bars, you shouldn’t be surprised.”
They spent the morning looking at paintings, then had lunch at a tapas restaurant downtown. William had never had tapas before. It was nice. After that, they headed south, toward Saint Louis.