Death Co. (The First Day)

1. The First Day

     “We’ve got a car crash, at least 14 on the scene. Need five agents. Jon, you’re up.” They never warn you about your first day on the job. Travel to earth is a wholly unpleasant experience. When my name was called I froze. I had no idea what to expect, and honestly wasn’t too thrilled about recovering a soul from a dead body. The only dead body I had ever seen was my own, and I didn’t have much time to be disgusted. It was mostly surreal and terrifying, but that’s for another time.

     I sat at my desk, unable to move, contemplating what it would be like to take the soul of another, until a voice roused me from my stupor. “Get up Jon! Every second we stand here is another second those poor people have to sit down there, confused, and lying in their own shit.” That was Barker. His name was given to him at birth, but it fit him well all the same. He loved to remind us that the dead vacated their bowels just before leaving their physical form (really messy stuff).

     I jumped out of my seat and ran to the hallway with the throng of others. At the time I didn’t know what such a large crowd of requisition agents meant. We all funneled down one of the many long grey hallways and into individual silver cylinders. Once inside the doors shut, sealing us in and filling the chamber with pressurized gas which smelled a bit like burnt toast and formaldehyde (the dead don’t need to breathe, but we do it anyway to maintain some sense of normalcy).

     Five to ten seconds after entering the tube there was a great WHOOSH. It was the sound of my unearthly essence being catapulted at terminal velocity toward the realm of the living below. Around me I could see the other agents making their bodies straight as arrows, but I couldn’t help it, my limbs flew out at all angles and I started screaming like a maniac. It was embarrassing, but it was my first time.

     The impact of the ground wasn’t so much painful as much as just a sense of extreme pressure, and the realization that I had smashed my face into the pavement. Upon standing the scene felt all too familiar. Around me were cars, trucks and motorbikes, people going about their daily lives, with one key difference. Everyone was frozen in time. For a moment I didn’t understand why I had been called in, and then I turned around.

     The destruction was unlike anything I had ever seen. Cars were wrecked and on their sides. A semi-truck still spewed silent flame into the heavens above. Concrete hung midair from where a mini-van had jumped the barrier into oncoming traffic. The woman’s face was frozen in excruciating terror, but she made it through, so I haven’t really got much sympathy for her.

     At the center of the wreckage was a school bus. Upon seeing it I realized I had hit the shit luck jackpot. Not only was it a school bus, but a school bus filled with missionaries on a retreat trip. Floating in mid-air was a man, clutching rosary beads, with a bible floating inches from his face. He had been catapulted from the bus as a result of not wearing a seat-belt. Always wondered why they didn’t have them on those things.

     There were children too, but I’ll spare the details. It was the one mid-air that really resonated with me. I stared straight into his eyes and he into mine, and then his expression shifted. The lines around him blurred, wobbled, and then split. Standing below his own tormented body was the spitting image of the same man. He still bore the scars from the glass that he had gone through, but he seemed infinitely more alive.

     “Am I dead?” He asked plainly. I had not been trained yet on the ins and outs of dealing with the recently deceased, but even then I knew I handled it wrong. People tend to get a little emotional when they find out that they’ve passed on and there’s nothing they can do about it.

     “Yup, I suppose so.” Matter of fact, to the point, and managing to convey no shred of confidence whatsoever. I was a natural.

     “Oh dear.” That was when the weeping started. To me it felt as if everyone died at once. In reality time just passes at a weird rate when you’re between worlds. In the span of our conversation the man’s body had flown and collided (rather spectacularly) with a Prius. The body managed to do some damage, but in the end it was the Prius that won out. I can say that I was genuinely surprised.

     Gore, refuse, and body parts were everywhere and the confusion was palpable. The man in front of me was now crying and begging to be sent back to his body. “Please, send me back. My work isn’t finished. Surely The Lord must know that!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the Lord was busy making typhoons in Asia, so I tried something different.

     “Look at your body over there.” I said, gesturing to the mass of pink flesh that might have at one point been a man.

     “Oh my. Is that me?”

     “Yeah. So… I could put you back in there.” I couldn’t. “Which would be both excruciatingly painful and a waste of time.” He nodded in understanding of what I said. “Or, I could take you with me for processing and we can see if all of those long days spent on your knees beneath the pews have paid off.” Apparently he was the wrong man to say that to. I had heard stories of people shedding their secrets like water when they died, but this one took the cake.

     He began to sweat profusely (another vestigial function that we retain). His eyes went wide with terror. It was if I was the lord and he was facing me for the first time. The amount of power that one holds in my line of work began to truly dawn upon me. He began to weep harder, tears coming in choked rivers from his eyes.

     I had seen this all before, not since death, but before. As a child I had been an altar boy at my local church and had watched as the pastor I knew from childhood was dragged from the church. He cried too, but I was told not to feel any sympathy for him for his actions were against god. Now from my eternal perch things seemed a little different. Moral ambiguity came into play in a way I had only previously experienced in the courtroom. His secrets were no different than the rest, but who was I to judge?

     “I’ve confessed my sins. Those men were the foul temptations of the devil! I’ve repented; there is no reason for me to be punished. It was only a momentary step off of his eternal path. Is it such a sin to love another man? Why has he sent you? On who’s authority do you operate?! How do I not know that you’re not the same devil that sent those foul temptations to me in the night?! I would never have strayed had it not been for you!” I had only meant that he was pious, and got a bit more than I bargained for. Luckily I was spared the awkwardness of that conversation when Barker began shouting.

     “Angels on the way! Everyone form up!”