The Claim

First published in 'The Ties That Bind', the 2017 anthology from the Melbourne Writers Social Group.

We appeared in the alley behind the Claim’s restaurant on the gloomiest of stormy nights. Dad never let us work on sunny, balmy evenings. Said it would ruin his image.

The Claim in question (Gary, if memory serves me correctly) was taking out the trash. He leapt backwards when he saw us materialise in front of him without sound or fanfare, banging his elbow on the bins. The other side went for bright lights, but Dad enjoyed the fear that came with surprise.

I didn’t. But we were different, us two. I did have to admit though, it always worked.

Gary didn’t look like the usual Claim. His eyes were what gave it away. They had the desperation alright, but they were also warm, brown and kind, with smile-crinkles at the edges.

Lightning flashed. The rain made pattering sounds on our black leather jackets.

‘Lawrence and I have come to collect,’ said Ethan, piercing Gary with his cold eyes.

‘Please,’ said Gary, falling to his knees. ‘Please… I’ll do anything…’

‘You think you can give more than you already have?’ smirked Ethan.

It was a pitiful sight, seeing a man who should have been in his prime prostrating himself in front of Ethan, who had the face of an arrogant twenty-year-old. Ethan always enjoyed this part – the formalities, the small talk, the game playing. I had no time for it.

‘You had your year,’ I said. ‘You knew the terms. It’s only fair.’

‘Fair?’ Gary’s voice shook. ‘Is it fair that a disease took my wife? Is it fair that all my money has gone to the funeral or this restaurant? Is it fair that my children were to be taken away from me? I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO MAKE A DEAL WITH HIM!’

His voice broke, and his tears blended with the rain.

My heart twisted. I had seen Dad do this before. He preyed on the desperate, the weak, the foolish – those who acted from love, essentially. It made sense, business-wise. I mean, who would bargain a soul with Lucifer for anything less?

The only other ones who did were the sinners sentenced to death by their fellow humans – the serial killers or rapists– wanting to buy more time. I had no issue collecting their debt. But Gary was different. He didn’t deserve this.

Ethan remained unaffected.

‘Well, it was your choice. No one forced your hand. Lawrence…’ He nodded towards me dismissively, and stepped back.

There was an expectant pause. The sounds of the city danced around us. Car horns, chattering voices, music, all punctuated by the occasional clap of thunder.

Ethan coughed. 

‘Uh, Lawrence?’

With a jolt like an electric shock (which I'd experienced during ‘character-building’ lessons with Dad), I realised I didn’t want to do this. Really didn’t want to do this.

I aimed for nonchalance.

‘We could just let him go. Dad doesn’t always check, does he?’

I felt Ethan turn his head, but my gaze stayed on Gary, who now had a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

‘Are. You. Insane,’ whispered Ethan.

It seemed my attempt at nonchalance had failed spectacularly.

‘You would disobey your father? Disappoint your father?’

I understood what he was saying. I had worked so hard to please Dad, to prove myself to him, to become his most prized Claim collector… why would I throw it all away?

I saw the answer in Gary’s eyes.

My mind flashed to only nights ago when another set of eyes stared into mine, black and bottomless, as Dad told me how well I was serving him.

I stepped forward into the glow of the restaurant’s backlight, and stretched out my hand towards Gary’s chest.
Ah, there it was, pulsing inside of him – a swifter and lighter hum than a heartbeat. A whole, healthy soul. My fingers tingled at its closeness; all I had to do was call it, and it would come, torn from its body for all time.

I hesitated. I saw Gary’s eyes. I saw my Dad’s.