I Am Death

Seventy-four

Los Angeles 9-1-1 Emergency Response System operator Talicia Leon removed her curved-frame glasses, placed them on her desk just next to her empty coffee mug and rubbed her tired eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She was about to tell Justin, the operator sitting in the booth to her right, that she was taking a five-minute coffee break when a brand new call came onto her monitor.

Talicia quickly reached for her glasses again.

Coffee would have to wait.

‘Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?’ she said as she took the call, adjusting her headset.

‘Yes, I have a problem.’ The voice at the end of the line was female. Though she sounded a little distressed, Talicia got the feeling that the woman was trying hard to keep it all together. ‘For some reason, my savings accounts seems to have been blocked. I can’t get to my money and I need to transfer funds from one account to the other ASAP.’

Oh great, Talicia thought. Another dumbass call.

On average, Talicia answered around ten completely non-related emergency calls a week. Some of them were damn right stupid.

‘Ma’am, you’ve reached nine-one-one emergency,’ she replied calmly. ‘Not your bank.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ the woman replied. ‘It’s not allowing me to do it over the Internet, that’s why I’m calling. I need this problem fixed ASAP, please.’ This time, the woman emphasized the letters ‘A-S-A-P’ and the word ‘please’ came out a little shaky. ‘Do you think you can help me?’

‘I don’t think so, ma’am. This is nine-one-one emergency, not Bank of America. Do you have an emergency or not?’

‘Of course. I wouldn’t be calling otherwise. My name is Vivian Curtis.’

All of a sudden it dawned on Talicia that this might not be a crank call at all. Her voice became a lot more serious.

‘So, Vivian, you do have an emergency.’ She didn’t phrase it as a question.

‘Yes.’

‘And at the moment you’re unable to talk because there’s someone there with you?’

‘That’s correct, I’ve already keyed in my account number and passcode. The address registered to the account is 13605 South Vermont Avenue, Gardena, 90247.’

‘Got that, Vivian.’ Talicia was already typing as fast as she could, and she was fast. ‘Are you under any physical threat?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you hurt?’

‘Yes. Will this take long? I need to attend to my daughter.’

‘Your daughter is also hurt and under physical threat?’ Talicia pressed ‘enter’ on her keyboard, dispatching the primary emergency message.

‘Yes, that’s right. Of course I authorize it. It’s my money. I would like to transfer the whole amount. How soon will it be before either myself or my partner can withdraw the money from an ATM?’

‘The threat is your partner?’

‘Um-hum.’

‘OK, Vivian, help is on its way. Just hold tight. They’ll be with you in less than four minutes. Can you stay on the line with me? Calls to banks tend to be lengthy and we can pretend there’s some sort of minor complication before the funds are able to be released.’

‘OK, I’ll wait.’

‘How old is your daughter, Vivian?’

‘I think that was on the twelfth of this month.’

‘Do you or your daughter have any life-threatening injuries?’

‘No. I haven’t received anything yet.’

The word ‘yet’ worried Talicia.

‘Are there any firearms in the house?’

‘Yes, I have entered it twice already.’

Two weapons. ‘Is your partner in possession of any of them?’

‘No, not at the moment. Thank you.’

Talicia quickly typed in some new instructions.

‘Is the front or back door, if you have one, unlocked, Vivian? Help is almost there.’

‘Yes. As I’ve said, transfer everything’

Both doors unlocked.

‘So, is it OK to just drop by an ATM and withdraw the funds now?’ Vivian’s voice was getting more and more distressed.

‘They’re seconds away, Vivian. Just turning into your street now. Even if you tell him right now that he can go and get the money out, he won’t make it past your front porch.’

‘OK. Thank you very much for your help.’

The call disconnected.

Talicia immediately checked the history for calls related to Vivian’s address. There had been six in the past eight months. All of them for domestic violence.

Before Talicia could even breathe out, a new call lit up her screen.

‘Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?’ She pushed her glasses up on to the bridge of her nose.

‘She’s dead.’ This time, the voice at the other end of the line was male. The serenity with which he delivered those words made Talicia feel a little uncomfortable.

‘Are you reporting a murder, sir?’ Talicia’s fingers were already cruising over her keyboard once again.

‘There’s so much blood. Her screams were so full of pain and fear. It was beautiful.’

Every inch of skin on Talicia’s body turned cold. She coughed to clear her throat.

‘I’m sorry, sir. Who did you say is dead?’

‘Number three.’

Talicia halted her typing for just a moment.

‘Are you saying that there are three people who are dead?’

‘You are not listening to me, are you?’ the man said calmly, but didn’t give Talicia a chance to reply. ‘Number three is dead. Her name is Alison. Number four will soon follow. A lot sooner than you think... for I am death.’

This time, the thought that came to Talicia’s mind was the opposite of what she had thought about the previous call. What had started seriously was now beginning to sound bogus.

‘Did you get that? Alison. Her name is Alison. Make sure you have it. Make sure they know it.’

Talicia couldn’t risk it.

‘Alison. Yes, I got it, sir. Do you have a last name for her?’

‘Good. Now write this down. Are you ready?’

‘Yes, sir, I’m ready.’

‘I. Am. Death. Tell that to the cops when you dispatch them.’

‘I got it,’ Talicia said. ‘What address shall I dispatch them to?’

‘Run your trace. Find this phone and you’ll find her.’

‘Sir? Hello? Sir?

The line didn’t disconnect but the caller was gone.