Somewhat Alive

“So, some not-god decided to move up my number? How’s that supposed to work?”

“It doesn’t,” Death said, his tone darkening. “We Eternals have a delicate balance. Each of us has total control over our own domains, but we’re powerless to interfere with one another. If we start tipping the scales too much, we grant what’s called Permissions—a free pass for the others to step in and mess with things too.”

“The problem is, when someone breaks the rules, it’s not like we get a memo of who, how, and where. We get a feeling of sorts—a Permission that lets us step outside our bounds. The more they push, the more room we have to push back.”

Death’s gaze sharpened, locking onto mine. “The biggest rule of all is we don’t encroach on each other’s territory. Ever. Which brings us to you, Jack. You’re in a dangerous spot. Someone’s breaking the rules to get to you, and that gives me a little leeway to bend some of the rules myself.”

I leaned against the cab, hands tangled in my hair, trying to make sense of it all. “Why the hell would someone want me dead?”

“Now that’s the billion-credit question, isn’t it?” Death said, leaning in, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that chilled me.

“Someone took you out early, and you better believe they had a damn good reason. If it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Fate, that leaves us with a very short list of suspects, none of whom you’d want to meet in a dark alley. And trust me, Jack, when someone starts skipping protocol like this, it’s never about one man. They’re playing a bigger game, with pieces even I can’t see yet. You’re just the first move we’ve caught. And changing someone’s schedule like this? That’s a pretty big move.”

There was a tremor in Death’s voice, the kind that creeps in when you’re staring down the barrel of a gun, but you don’t know whose finger’s on the trigger.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Someone wants me—a washed-up Hunter P.I.—out of the way. Why? What could I possibly do that someone with that kind of power would care about?”

Death threw up his hands in exasperation. “What do you want me to say? It’s destiny—you’re the hero, the chosen one, the protagonist of this twisted tale—the late, great Jack Callaghan, demon hunter and private eye.”

I snorted. “I call bullshit.”

“Oh, of course you do, because it is bullshit. But you’re what we got. You think I’m happy putting this on you?”

“There are a dozen other Hunters out there far better suited to be a hero than me. Maybe a decade ago, sure, but you’d have better luck grabbing Greyson Shade.”

Death chuckled, a low, dark sound. “Oh, I love that show. We watch it religiously at the office. No, we checked, and Greyson’s not due for...” He stopped mid-sentence, catching the hard edge in my stare.

“I’m gonna need a little more honesty here,” I said.

“You want honesty?” he asked, leaning in. “Alright, honestly, I didn’t even know who you were until today. Honestly, the only reason I’m here is because someone didn’t want me to be. They slipped up, I got curious, and decided to check things out for myself. If they hadn’t, you’d already have transitioned automatically—swoosh.” He made a flushing motion with his hand. “Down the cosmic toilet with the rest of you miscreants. Why’d they cut your thread in particular? No clue. But I know they did, and that means they stepped into my domain without so much as a ‘how’s your mother.’”

“Alright, I get it. They stepped on your toes. But, for argument’s sake, and just out of curiosity—what if I don’t care?”

“Excuse me?” Death asked, giving me a sharp look.

“What if I... don’t... care? Right, wrong, or otherwise, I’m dead. And what you’ve got sounds like a problem for the living. I’ve done my time. What if I want out?”

“You’re really chapping my ass, you know that?” He glanced up at the sky, his hands flying up in exasperation, fingers pinched, as if the universe itself could see the injustice. “Anybody else, huh? You couldn’t have picked anybody else?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

“I specifically didn’t say that. I said ‘I don’t know.’ But if there is a god, he’s got one hell of a sense of humor, cursing me with a walking migraine in the form of an out-of-shape asshole. Listen good, you whiny little ingrate, not everything is about you.”

He leaned in closer for emphasis. “The boundaries between this world and the Otherworld are fraying. Demons are getting bolder, slipping through the Rift more often, and with far too much ease.” He nodded at my lifeless body. “Case in point. We’re not dealing with pups anymore. Whoever snipped your thread is likely the same one tearing open the Rifts,” Death said, like he was talking to a child.

“I didn’t think it’d be this hard to explain... Jack, too much is riding on what happens next. We need you back at the table. The world needs you. It’s your duty.”

“Duty?” I barked a bitter laugh. “I’ve heard that line before—from recruiters, old war buddies, and every damsel in distress who ever crossed my path. ‘Duty’ is a leash they use to make you think you’ve got a choice. But this time, I do have a choice, and I’m choosing to walk.”

I turned toward the cab, but Death’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, hard. He leaned in, his voice a razor-sharp whisper. “This isn’t about you. It’s not even about me. It’s about the world. And this... this is only the beginning. But if you won’t fight for your world, then fight for Sarah’s.”

Cold fury surged through me at the mention of her—how dare he drag her into this? How dare he use her name to pull my strings? But the worst part was, it was working.

I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the car. “What do you know about Sarah? Talk fast.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought up your daughter. But,” he paused, considering his next words. ”—just because she Transitioned doesn’t mean she stopped existing. When souls leave the body, they go where they’re meant to, and honestly, that’s not even up to me. I’m just the driver. But I do know one thing—wherever she is, she wouldn’t want you letting the world fall apart.”

I locked eyes with him, calculating exactly how one might go about killing a not-god.

“They’re poking holes in the curtain, Jack. And when that curtain falls, it’s lights out for everyone—no matter where they are, this plane or the next.” He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in before delivering the final blow. “No Otherworld, no Normies—just a big, empty void. Everyone inside? Gone. Or worse, trapped in eternal torment. Fire, brimstone, death on repeat. You get the picture?”

I let him go, and Death straightened, smoothing out his cloak as if brushing off cosmic dust before he spoke again.

“Now, I’m going to let that one slide because you’re in a bad way, and I know this isn’t easy. But if you touch me again, they’ll be picking up pieces of your soul across every dimension of the cosmos. You can’t technically kill a soul, but you can damn sure hide one in tiny bits. Catch my drift?”

A bitter realization washed over me, my anger morphing into something darker, more suffocating. He had me cornered, and we both knew it. I was a rat in a maze with no way out. I tried to take a deep breath, but frustration simmered below the surface. If he was right, if this was as wide-reaching as he said, there was no escape—not in this life, not in the next. And if he was right about Sarah...

Death noticed the shift in my expression, and his tone softened. He leaned in, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Hey, it’s not all bad. We could be worse off. You’ve got your perks. Sure, you’re rough around the edges,” he said, giving my gut a light tap, “but you’ve got connections, knowledge, and an endearing lack of self-preservation. Plus, you’re already dead. What more could they do to you?”

He wasn’t wrong. I could get close to things—and people—others couldn’t. And there were still a few loose ends I wouldn’t mind tying up.

“So, what do you need me to do?”

Death considered me for a long moment. He wasn’t looking at me, not really—he was looking into me… through me. It was unsettling, to say the least.

“Get back to living, Jack. Be who you were—that’s it. Whatever path you were on that got you killed? Stay on it. You’ll know you’re headed in the right direction when things start heating up. And keep an eye out for the other Eternals. Do this for me—maybe save the world while you’re at it—and I’ll put in a good word. Might even let you finally rest. Deal?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him to kick rocks back to wherever the Eternals came from. But then Sarah’s face flashed in my mind, and the decision was already made. I took a breath, steeled myself, and nodded. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it.”

Relief washed over Death’s face. “Great. Only took half an hour of my life that I’ll never get back.” He exhaled deeply, visibly relaxing. “Remember—live your life like you always have. Do what you would’ve done before, and avoid what you wouldn’t have. It’s pretty straightforward.”

He pulled a small, shimmering vial from his cloak, filled with a dark, swirling liquid. “Drink this. It’ll bind your soul back to your body.”

I uncorked the vial but hesitated, narrowing my eyes at Death. “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, a little too casually.

“A catch. A scheme. The fine print,” I said, my tone sharp.

“Well, now that you mention it… it’s a trifling thing, really. Barely worth noting,” Death admitted, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “A little give and take, a bit of a bumble and a stumble.”

“Spit it out.”

“When I send you back, you won’t be exactly the same. There’s always a cost. Hard to say what it’ll be, but... with a fair degree of certainty, you’ll be... somewhat alive,” he muttered, the last part barely audible.

“Somewhat alive? Did I hear that right?”

“Well... mostly dead. But if you take care of the body, it should hold up… for a while, at least. Think of it like a loaner.”

“Great. That’s just great.”

I shook my head and downed the contents in one searing gulp. The taste was startling—a bitter mix of herbs laced with a sweetness that lingered, burning as it slid down my throat. My vision blurred, and a violent tug yanked me back toward my body.

“Now, this part is going to hurt you a lot more than it will me,” Death said, hopping into the water. He stood easily on the still surface between cresting waves, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a glowing, thrumming crystal. It looked like an ember of life itself, pulsing with raw power.

My body floated toward him, the potion working like threads binding me to my corpse—too many strings, old and rotten, reeking of rancid decay. Agony tore through me.

The world spun—nausea, burning, freezing—waves of torment crashed through my veins, my body unable to decide which agony to settle on.

“And Jack, one more thing. This is crucial. Whatever you do, for the love of all that is good and right, don’t—“

The world snapped back into focus, cutting off his words. I gasped, air tearing into my lungs like acid. Clawing my way out of the water, I shivered, drenched and trembling to the bone.

“For hell’s sake, finish the sentence,” I muttered, glancing back to where Death had stood, but he was gone, and the cab with him. The only trace of our encounter was the faint smell of brimstone lingering in the air, the burn of the scar etched into my chest, and, oh yeah, the fact that I was now a walking corpse.

As I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the water, I saw it—skin pallid and gray, eyes faintly glowing with an unnatural light. The truth hit me with the tenderness of a sledgehammer: I wasn’t quite dead, but I definitely wasn’t alive, either.

“I hate Tuesdays,” I grumbled, flexing stiff fingers that didn’t feel entirely like my own.

I dock, every step heavy with the darkness now pulsing within me. But I pushed it back, forcing myself to focus on what lay ahead. There was a mystery to solve, demons to stop, and maybe—just maybe—a world to save. No pressure.

The smell of saltwater and something acrid— brimstone? ozone? —clung to my clothes. My reflection in the puddles was wrong—skin pale as old circuitry, faint light bleeding from my eyes.

I found a payphone, its neon-tinted chrome scuffed and dented. The screen flickered to life as I pressed my hand against the panel, the old biometric reader humming faintly before a message blinked into existence:

“50 Credits Please”

I sighed and subtly nodded, the System authorizing the charge with a faint buzz. My System pinged, flashing a notification that the payment had been processed, along with my updated balance.

1. Credits: 410 remaining.

I exhaled a deep breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. At least the System was still limping along; functional enough.

The receiver was heavy and cold as I picked it up, the static crackling faintly in my ear. My fingers trembled as I punched in the only number that would still answer.

“Cali,” I croaked when she picked up, her voice cracking through faint interference.

“Jack? You sound awful. What happened?”

I leaned heavily against the phone booth, glancing back toward the dark water where my corpse had been.

“I need a ride.”