Albert wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep. But when he woke up, it was just after midnight. He was still on the couch, where he’d collapsed after making it back home. But the events before that, arbitration with Death and that other man, Arnie, it felt like a dream. It felt like that whole day had been one long dream that had been just one misplaced shadow short of becoming a nightmare.

Amy was sitting on the floor with her back propped up against the side of the couch next to Albert. She looked like she was asleep with her hand tucked into a pizza box. Albert had halfheartedly nibbled on some food throughout the day, never really feeling hungry, but now that he was looking at the box he felt distinctly not hungry. Normally pizza was a treat and he would eat at least half of whatever got ordered, but even just the smell of food was making his stomach turn. Out of curiosity, Albert slowly leaned over to peak inside the box and was only slightly surprised to see that three slices of pepperoni pizza had been removed to make room for Amy’s hand which was gripping her oversized hunting knife.

Disregarding some of the pain in his side, Albert leaned a little further to take a look at Amy’s face. She looked like she was asleep, her breathing was level and slow, her eyes were closed and relaxed, her head was tilted in a way that took the strain off her neck. Anyone would say that she was asleep, but Albert wasn’t convinced.

“Stop looking at me.” Amy muttered quietly.

“How do you know I’m looking at you?”

“I felt the couch cushions shift after you looked inside the box.”

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?”

“I figured your mother would be less suspicious if I was still here when she got back, and being asleep would be appropriate. The knife is for if anyone else comes here looking for either of us.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to read into that. Can we talk about what’s happening to me?” Albert relaxed back into the couch and stared at the ceiling, preparing himself to pretend to be asleep for whenever his mother returned.

“I like your odds a lot better now, if that’s what you’re worried about. The first one is usually the hardest, doesn’t make the second one any easier, but you think about it less. Or so I hear.”

“Well, I was worried about that. But I’m more curious what’s happening to my body? It feels like… like I’m on one of those medieval torture tables where they stretch your body. But it’s like every direction from everywhere.” Albert paused as he debated whether or not to include the other option that explained his sensations. "Or drugs. I could be on drugs right now and not know."

“I’ve heard it described both ways. But I’ll be honest, I don’t talk to a lot of people like you. Mostly I just do what I do for… people like Death. But if I had to guess, that return of your sense of pain is a good sign. You don’t smell like a dying person anymore either, so that’s good.”

“What does a dying person smell like?” Albert was curious. Amy had mentioned before that she could tell he wasn’t going to heal based on the way he smelled. Was her sense of smell that powerful or was it something else?

“They smell like open wounds. Usually. There’s things in your blood that clot up wounds and stop bleeding. When they can’t do that for whatever reason, they try harder and they usually ooze out with the blood. The cells that do the clotting… they smell different.”

“I take it you’ve been around a lot of dying people?”

“Yeah.” Amy didn’t elaborate and her voice had that tone that said she definitely didn’t want to talk about it.

“Okay. I won’t ask any more questions about you, then.”

“Good choice.”

“You’re a pretty easy to read person anyway. Child soldier military type, acts older than they are, good with knives, can take care of herself. I get the feeling that’s about as much as I need to know.”

“Yeah. You should be more worried about yourself.” Amy grunted, finally opening her eyes to look at Albert.

“How long do you think I have?”

“Who knows. Could be weeks, could be a day. Halfway measures are unpredictable, that’s probably why Death let you off so easy.”

“Do you think he expects me to be able to actually do this?”

“No.” Amy’s answer was quick and abrupt. She didn’t even think about it.

“Do you think I can do it?”

“That depends… how did you get that man to sign?”

“I don’t think he believed any of what was happening was real, but I was honest and clear with him. Maybe at the end he was just willing to accept that if he was actually dead that he should at least leave on a good note. It’s hard to say, I couldn’t really get a read on him.”

“Some people are like that. They don’t trust anyone or anything, but they consider the offer as a hypothetical. I doubt you’ll get that lucky again. But you might make it out of this okay.”

“When do you think I’ll be able to get out and find another soul?”

“Hard to say. Do you feel any better after resting?”

Albert thought about it. He let his mind wander to the way his body felt, where the pain was, what his breathing was like, where any discomforts might be. It was still painful, and there was still that stretching sensation, but the cuts and scrapes didn’t ache as bad and the bruised feeling he had felt before falling asleep was weaker as well.

“I feel… a little better. I think. I definitely don’t want to go out again right now. Maybe not even early tomorrow. Maybe after dark again tomorrow night?”

“We can do that. I’ll get a car though. I don’t think you’ll get much more luck so close to home.”

“You’re not going to steal one are you?”

“No, I can rent a car, idiot.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were that old.”

Amy let out a stifled laugh at that. She really didn’t look much older than Albert was. At most, she couldn’t be older than twenty-five. And that was being generous. But maybe she was. Twenty-five would be enough. Though the way that she had laughed at the insinuation that she wasn’t that old made Albert think there was something else going on with her age. She worked for Death, so it was possible she wasn’t actually human

“So, what? Are you immortal or something? Are you even human?”

“I’m… I’m something. I thought you weren’t going to ask me about myself?”

“And I thought you were a teenager.”

“I’m not.”

“How old are you then? Or what are you?”

“First off, hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s really rude to ask a woman how old she is? And second, hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s way more rude to ask what someone is?”

“Okay. Okay.” Albert huffed. “I’ll drop it. I just. You know. You look my age.”

“I’m not.” Amy shook her head and resumed her fake sleeping posture.

It seemed like that marked the end of any conversation. Albert still had a lot of questions, like ‘how does arbitrating a soul deal change the way my body feels?’ or ‘what should I expect to happen when I get a second soul to sign a contract?’ Important questions. But Albert had wasted his conversation on trying to figure out more about Amy. And Amy was clearly a more private person than Albert was expecting. She just seemed so open about things when she did give answers that it felt like that was the way she was.

__________

Eventually, Albert’s mother returned home. It had been silent for a while after Albert’s conversation with Amy, but he hadn’t gotten any more sleep. He had been caught up in thought, and occasionally had tried to clear his mind by watching Amy pretend to sleep. It was oddly comforting to have her there, prepared for whatever might happen. Even if she was clearly dangerous.

Albert’s mother entered the apartment quietly. Maybe she was hoping to not be heard, or at the very least not to wake Albert if he was asleep. The second Albert heard a key in the lock he assumed his sleeping position. His heart began racing as he lay there with his eyes closed, hoping she wouldn’t get close enough to notice.

There was a moment of silence before Amy began to stir, and he was glad that she was the first to make a sound. She awoke rather loudly, giving Albert an excuse to follow suit.

“Oh. Heck. Sorry, Ms. Carol. I guess I fell asleep… Guess Albert did too.” Amy’s fake voice was still excellent, it even sounded like she had just woken up.

“It’s okay. I was talking with a co-worker and they said that people with head trauma should actually get sleep and not be kept up. At least, that was what she remembered. So who knows if that was actually true. But it looks like Albert’s fine.”

Albert took a chance and opened his eyes as he stretched. The action was painful, but it was normal. It felt like the natural thing to do and Albert was sure his genuine wince of pain would help sell the act.

“Did you save me some pizza?”

“Yeah, I didn’t eat much and Albert wasn’t all that hungry either, so there’s still plenty left.”

“Do you need a ride home, sweetie? It’s pretty late and I’d feel bad if you don’t have someone that can come get you?” Albert was confused by the offer, as his mother didn’t have a car either. She took the bus to work. But maybe she was offering a bus pass?

“That’s okay, I live just down the street… and I’ve got mace.” Amy reached into her backpack to reveal a small aerosol spray tube. “My dad doesn’t let me leave home without it.”

“Smart man.” Albert’s mother smiled in approval.

The exchange between Amy and his mother was strange. He hardly ever saw his mother interact with anyone else besides him, let alone another woman. The natural solidarity that formed between them in the simple exchange was so… normal. Albert didn’t quite understand it, but it felt like they were becoming friends somehow.

“Should I expect you over again? I don’t think Albert will be making it to school tomorrow either, but I really don’t want him to fall behind.”

“Yeah, I can bring some notes by again tomorrow and help him stay up to date on assignments.”

“That would be nice.” Albert’s mother turned to finally address him. “Did you get enough rest?”

“Yeah. We just kinda went over notes and watched TV. It was nice.”

“Well, Amy, thank you for coming over and offering to keep an eye on him. That was very sweet.”

“You sound like she’s my babysitter, mom.”

“What? You don’t have a lot of friends over. Sometimes I think you’re ashamed of me or something.”

“It’s fine, Ms. Carol. You seem like a cool mom.” Amy collected her things, Albert couldn’t see her stow her knife, but he was sure it was gone. “I should get home.”

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll be fine.”

As Amy closed the door behind her, Albert’s mom turned back to him and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“She’s cute, Al. Little rough around the edges, but she seems really polite and nice.”

“I’m not into her, if that’s what you’re trying to get at. She’s just nice.”

“You better not be leading her on.”

“I’m not.”

“And you better not get that girl pregnant either.” Albert choked at his mother's accusation. “Or I’ll make you get a job and pay child support. And rent.”

“I’m not going to… no. She’s just a friend.”

“She better be. Or I’m going to have a lot of uncomfortable questions for her tomorrow.”

“Geez, just go to sleep mom.”

Albert was already dreading the coming day. He would rather go to school beat up and bloody than have to sit though his mom having an awkward sex related talk with Amy. He hoped, more than he had ever hoped for anything else, that that would not happen. His mother had dropped the conversation easily enough though, so he had some expectation that it wouldn’t.

As he waited for his mother to complete her nightly ritual of getting ready for bed, he stared at the ceiling and let his mind wander. He tried to focus again on how he felt physically, on any pains and aches, on the unnatural stretching feeling. But it seemed to feel distant again. Not numb, but faded. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted his soul collecting task to be over, and it seemed to matter less of what it would cost the more he thought about it