“Bitch,” Domino muttered as he maneuvered his box through the door. She needed a few good slaps, he thought.
He slid his box onto the desk, pushing things aside in the process. Something thudded onto the carpet. Domino bent to pick it up. It was a fat book. The Novels of Sylvia Plath it said on the spine. Domino wasn’t sure why, but that didn’t seem right somehow. He shrugged and dropped the book on the chair as he pulled it away from the computer. After looking the machine over, he swore. The thing had no scanner, and they weren’t into independent peripherals in the Land of the Dead. Computers were all in one piece like some goddamned Victrola console. He’d need a whole new unit.
There was a cough at the door and Domino turned to see Eva standing there, holding a cardboard box as if it were a dead skunk. Or a live one. Whichever was worse in the Land of the Dead. Domino pushed a few more things from the desk onto the chair. “Put it right there, sweetheart,” he said.
Eva glared but did as she was told. She turned to leave again but Domino grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to himself. “What’s the hurry, sweetheart? No one’s around yet.” He wasn’t holding her tightly and she quickly slipped out of his arm.
“Never do that again,” she said angrily.
Domino laughed. “Don’t take it so seriously. And get me a trash can.”
“You are… you have one.” She kicked the one beside the desk.
“Yeah, but I’ve got a lot of shit to throw away. Get me another.”
Eva went with a faint growl. Domino watched her dress swish around her hips as she stalked away. He shook his head, with a grin on the face he no longer had, and started dumping whatsername’s crap into the empty box. Eva came back with another trash can and quickly turned to leave again.
“I’m going to need a new computer,” Domino said.
Eva spun around again, planting hands on hips. “I’ll just pull one out of my—”
“Easy, sister,” he laughed. “Don’t get your panties knotted. I don’t mean now. I’m just letting you know, you know? But if there’s any paperwork I’ll need to deal with, why don’t you warm it up for me, OK?”
Eva folded her arms. “Anything else?”
“Not right now.” He let her get out the door before adding, “But you could get a demon to take these old files out of here sometime.” She shot him an acid look before disappearing.
Domino went on clearing his new desk. After a few moments he heard Eva’s voice. He strained to hear, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. She sounded angry. He shrugged. Probably just bitching to one of her girlfriends. A minute or so later there was a loud bang that made Domino jump. He looked out into the hall but only saw Eva sitting at her desk, talking to some short guy. Domino went back to what he was doing.
Before long the same short guy came into the office. He stuck out his hand. “I hear you’re the new agent,” he said in some sort of spic accent.
“Yeah,” he said, grasping the pip-squeak’s hand. Good grip, though. “Domino Hurley.”
“Calavera,” the other reaper said. “Manny Calavera.” Domino held back a laugh at the James Bond shtick.
“You caught Eva off guard,” Calavera said. “The company doesn’t usually fill openings this quick.”
“Yeah, well, I was available, so here I am.”
Calavera looked around. “It’s gonna be tough to get any work done with your files not here yet.”
“I don’t have any files, Cal, so that’s not a problem.”
There was a short pause before Calavera asked, “So is this your first gig?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’m a quick learner.”
“Uh, OK.” There was another pause. Calavera picked up the Plath book and leafed through it. “I always meant to borrow this,” he said, half to himself.
“You might was well take it. I don’t need it.”
“What do you know about Lana?” Calavera asked.
“I thought it was Sylvia,” Domino said, sorting through the desk drawers.
“No, I mean the woman who used to be in this office.”
“Oh.” Domino shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.”
“Well, she was here a long time.”
“Uh, huh.”
“People liked her. She was a good reaper. She didn’t deserve to be torn apart by demons.”
“Hey, that’s a shame,” Domino said, trying to decide if he could use the half-used day planner he’d found.
“Yeah, sure it’s a shame,” Calavera said, sounding annoyed. “The point is, everybody’s still in shock over what happened. We’re kind of angry. You coming in so soon, well, some of that might rub off on you for a while. So, you know, just try to let it roll off you.”
“Don’t worry, Cal. I’m an easy-going guy. I’ll fit in.”
Calavera shook his head.
“By the way,” Domino said, “does the DOD usually give its agents such crappy computers? ’Cause I’m telling you, Manny, this thing is a joke.”
Calavera shrugged. “Well, like I said, Lana was here a long time. I think that unit’s been here almost as long.”
“Time for the scrap pile, then.”
“That’s up to you,” Calavera said. Domino stiffened when he started rummaging around in his box. “Look at all the diplomas!” he said.
Domino jerked the box toward him. “You have to have the proper attitude to get diplomas like those, Manny.”
“Really?” Calavera said, tucking his new book under one arm. “I thought you just had to have the proper postage.” He turned and left before Domino could make an answer.
He ground his teeth. “I’m surrounded by a bunch of shit-heads,” he said under his breath
Copal didn’t come into the office until nearly midmorning. Not, to Domino’s way of thinking, a good sign. He thought it indicated a lack of drive. Copal’s appearance also didn’t inspire confidence. His suit, although technically in good condition, seemed to fit like a damp rag on his illusory frame. Hector had advised Domino to meet with Copal as soon as he arrived, so he kept watch and was in Copal’s office within a couple of minutes.
Copal had already shed his coat and had his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, giving him a hard-working look. Sloppy, but driven. His office looked equally messy—three overflowing trash cans, stacked boxes of records, bulging file cabinets, and a small conference table buried so deep in paper it was obviously no use for meetings. And yet, Copal seemed to see a pattern in the chaos. As soon as Domino introduced himself, Copal reached into a sagging in-basket and pulled out three work orders.
“These came in over the last couple of weeks,” he said. “It’s my ass if anyone finds out I’ve been sitting on them for so long, but Hector’s already diverted the Double-Ns. It’ll look too suspicious if you bring in three saints your first day, so take care of ’em the old-fashioned way.”
“And what’s that?” Domino asked.
“Goddammit!” Copal growled, unlocking the middle drawer of his desk. He took out a bulky gun and handed it to Domino butt first. “Here.”
Domino turned the pistol over in his hands. “What good is this on dead people?”
“That’s a sproutella gun, you dumb-ass. Haven’t you been to Hector’s greenhouse outside of town?”
Domino shrugged. “Sure, but what does that—”
“You ever see any plants outside of that little building?”
“So this thing—”
“That’s right,” Copal snapped. “So you take those bastards out to the greenhouse and sprout ’em. Got it?”
“They’d be more use on the island.”
“We can’t use the island this time, bonehead. Why?” he asked for Domino before he could himself. “Because you gotta bring them back to the office for us to use the system that you set up! And you can’t bring in three fucking saints on your first day! Tomorrow we can start shipping to the island. Today you just get these assholes out of our hair.”