Soul Insurance

by Glenn Bullion

  "Hey Mommy, look!" a child said, pointing up at the ceiling. Two souls had floated in from above and hovered near the fan, tossing light over the diner. "Do you think those are soul-mates?"

  The mother smiled at her son and took a drink of orange juice. "Maybe, honey."

  One of the souls danced for a moment before speaking to the other. "It's your fault we died, asshole."

  "Oh, of course it is. You can't drive worth a damn, but it's my fault. I wasn't even behind the wheel."

  "Well, if you would have been paying attention…."

  Connor smiled at the conversation only he could hear. They flew above the tables and disappeared into the kitchen as the waitress delivered Connor's iced tea. Three more spirits passed through the diner, one of them complaining about how he wished he could taste pancakes one more time.

  He nodded off as he rested his head on his fist. The dream came slowly and quietly, until the voices assaulted him.

  "I'll follow you wherever you go."

  "You can't hide from me."

  "I won't rest until I find a way to kill you."

  "Mommy! Daddy!" Connor shouted in a young voice.

  "They can't help you now. I killed them, and I'll kill you."

  He jumped in his booth. The dream left as quickly as it came, but still left him shaking. He'd nearly knocked over his iced tea, and had the attention of the entire diner. He was a child once again, alone, vulnerable, afraid.

  Connor paid for his tea, and endured another roll of the eyes from the waitress, before driving in his Bug once again. The streets weren't very crowded, only the occasional person and spirit moving along the sidewalk. His hands trembled as he made his way through town.

  He always considered himself a level-headed person, even though he was unlike anyone else. He lived a solitary life, but wasn't one of those miserable people complaining about a lack of friends. Connor enjoyed his life. He didn't have much luck with women, as Ryan constantly reminded him, but had a good job and his own apartment. But when that dream hit him it was like he was six years old all over again.

  The cool air rushed to meet him as he opened the door to the flower shop. The shop was quiet except for the hum of the muted TV mounted in the corner. Nate looked up from a magazine at the sound of the door opening.

  Nate glanced at his watch. "You're a little early."

  "I couldn't sleep."

  "Yeah, well, what else is new?"

  Connor smiled. Nate was an old friend of his father's. He was slowly losing his hair in the back, but it was still blond. He was a large man, seemingly unfit for a flower shop. Connor could see him as a bouncer or a security guard. The thought of Nate making flower arrangements with those large hands of his always made him laugh.

  Connor gestured to the magazine Nate was reading. "I didn't know you could read."

  "Ha ha. I'm reading about soul insurance. You wouldn't believe the money that goes into that. Just to have one body created for you, we're talking about twenty flower shops."

  He leaned on the counter and glanced at the upside-down magazine. Soul insurance was the one topic he always tried to avoid, only because he'd heard about it from so many spirits. Melding a soul with another body was a privilege still enjoyed mostly by the wealthy, but the debate raged on about what soul resurrection meant for the future. The cycle of life and death had always revolved around a soul melding with a newly conceived baby. But the science of soul resurrection had changed that. Why struggle through life from the beginning when you could have your soul melded with a new body grown straight from the lab with your memories intact?

  "Would you do it?" Nate asked. "If you had the money, would you get soul insurance?"

  "And continue living in my amazing apartment? Oh, sure."

  "Wise-ass. Are you gonna be okay today?"

  Connor took a deep breath and nodded.

  "I miss them, too," Nate said. He reached under the counter and pulled out the two roses he'd set aside. "You know if you need me later, just give me a call."

  A tear nearly escaped his eye as Connor ran his finger along the stem of a rose. He thought he'd have been immune to the tradition by now.

  "I'll be okay." He carefully held the roses. "But thanks."

  His stomach ached as he continued to the other side of town. He glanced at the roses in the passenger's seat, and a soul passed by faster than he was driving. The sight brought a smile to his face. Spirits could move quickly, and move anywhere on the planet at will, but seeing one in a hurry always made him laugh. When you didn't have a body, what was the rush?

  He took in the scenery as he parked next to the cemetery. Cemeteries were quiet, serene places for the living. For Connor, they were so noisy he could barely concentrate. Souls moved about the grounds, wailing in despair. Some hovered over graves of loved ones. Others hovered over their own graves. They would disappear, either moving to another physical place, or simply moving on. The living didn't realize that as long as a soul stayed away from a couple trying for a child, reincarnation was a choice, whether it was natural or by soul resurrection. A soul could choose whether to live again, or not.

  Connor's parents decided to move on together, after they were sure their son would be okay.

  He kept his head low as he made his way across the cemetery. The souls ignored him, not knowing he could hear them. His heart ached as fragments of their grief touched his ears. A mother mourned over the death of her child. A man floated near his own gravestone, regretting not telling the one he loved how he felt.

  Connor breathed a heavy sigh when he finally reached his destination. His parents' gravestones stood side by side. Tears rolled down his face, but a smile touched his lips as he read their epitaphs. His father's was plain and simple. Husband, Father, Cop. His mother's was a personal message. We'll Always Be With You. They both came up with their own epitaphs after they'd died, reciting the words to Connor while he lived with his aunt. They stayed with him for six months, visiting him at school, on the playground.

  After they left was when the nightmare started.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He knew he was lucky. Despite spirits being everywhere, the living had no way to tell them apart. They had no way to recognize the souls of their loved ones, and could only hope they'd moved on peacefully or had a smooth reincarnation. Connor knew his parents had moved on, and knew they were together.

  "Hi Mom, Dad. I've missed you."

  Despite his knowledge of the spirit world, he wasn't sure if they could hear him, wherever they were. But he talked to them anyway, filling them in on his life for the past year, his crazy new friend Ryan, how he actually went on a few dates, although they were disasters.

  He felt better as he left the cemetery. There was one more task he had to attempt. Goosebumps raced across his arms and a nervous sweat started just thinking about it. But it was something he had to do.

  *****

  Brooke was pulled from her sleep by the sound of her alarm going off. She had just enough control of her limbs to reach over and slam her fist on the snooze button. As she hovered between consciousness and dream she wondered why she'd bothered to set her alarm for a Saturday morning. That's when it hit her. She was scheduled to work.

  "Oh, come on," she muttered.

  Perhaps going out dancing on Friday night wasn't the best idea.

  She swung her legs over the bed and sat up. That was all she had energy to do. It took another minute to search for her glasses on the nightstand and make it to her feet. She wobbled down the hall, using the walls for balance. A soul used her apartment for a shortcut, flying in front of her and passing through.

  Her roommate Amber sat at the dining room table eating a bowl of cereal. Best friends since high school, the two couldn't have been more opposite, even down to their appearance. Amber was wild, fun-loving, tall, blond, tan, and leggy. Brooke was none of those things.

  "And the zombie wakes up," Amber said.

  Brooke grunted and collapsed in the chair acro
ss from her friend. Amber slid a cup of coffee across the table. Brooke drank half of it in one gulp.

  "I thought you'd still be asleep."

  Amber smiled. "Actually, I'm still awake. I haven't gone to bed yet."

  Brooke looked her up and down, noticing she was wearing the same revealing clothes from the night before. "Where do you get the energy? You'll be dead later."

  Amber waved her off. "No way. You gonna go to work? I tried to tell you. I told you we should have stayed in."

  "Actually, I think your exact words were 'Life is short, and we don't have soul insurance. Let's go out.'"

  "Yeah, that sounds like something I'd say."

  Brooke grabbed her phone to check the time, and scrolled through the pictures she'd taken the night before. She had video of Amber dancing on a bar with a hula-hoop, men and souls alike eating out of the palm of her hand. A sneaky smile crossed her face at the thought of posting it on the Internet.

  "I'm gonna shower and head to work."

  "Do you want me to come with you? I could give you a hand."

  "No, you'll be in dreamland soon."

  Brooke and Amber worked at the same soul resurrection company, Soul-Ful. Brooke thought it was the most ridiculous name she'd ever heard. But the job paid well, the benefits were good, and she was doing something meaningful, giving people second chances.

  After a shower she stood in her bedroom and stared out the window, trying to decide what to wear. The horizon shimmered from the heat. Even the souls seemed to sweat as they moved across the buildings. She slipped on a pair of shorts and a sleeveless blouse. The nice thing about a Saturday shift was the loose dress code.

  She winced as the seat of her car warmed her legs. Soul-Ful was on the opposite side of town. She stopped for a breakfast sandwich and weaved her way through the streets. As she waited at a red light, a spirit passed through the passenger's door and floated above the seat.

  "Good morning," she said. "How are you?"

  Brooke laughed as the soul responded by flashing quickly and bouncing up and down. She danced in her seat as the soul moved with her back and forth. A man jogging on the sidewalk noticed the scene and stopped to watch. Sadly, she was having more fun with a spirit in her car than she did dancing at the club the night before.

  She'd always wished she could understand them, figure out what they were trying to say. Brooke had worked for Soul-Ful since graduating from high school, and not one of their clients could describe the experience of being a spirit after they'd melded with their new body. They could remember their previous physical life, but that was all. It was simply a law of nature. The living were not meant to understand the afterlife.

  A horn honked behind her. Her face turned red as she looked up at the green light. The jogger on the sidewalk chuckled.

  "I have to go," she told the spirit. "You have a nice day."

  The spirit floated through the roof as Brooke drove through the intersection.

  The parking lot outside Soul-Ful was nearly deserted. Protesting soul resurrection was quickly becoming a thing of the past, but the few dedicated enough to wave signs usually took the weekend off. She recognized the owner Wesley's car. Chris had already arrived as well; he was one of their technicians. There was a Volkswagen Beetle she didn't recognize. It was probably Dana's in sales. Dana seemed to come to work with a different car every day.

  The cool air felt great as she stepped into the lobby. She walked through the double-doors separating their waiting room from the main office. Navigating her way through the maze of desks, she nearly tripped on the trashcan next to Amber's desk. She made a mental note to strangle Amber when she got home.

  Brooke had only managed to set her purse down when Wesley emerged from the hallway leading to the lab. Even on a Saturday, the owner of Soul-Ful always dressed well. Black dress pants with a white shirt and tie. A full head of brown hair, always with a smile on his face. He was somewhere in his fifties, and still attractive. She always enjoyed working for him. He lived and breathed soul resurrection.

  "Morning, Wesley," Brooke greeted.

  "Brooke, hey." He redirected his route to approach her desk. "We've got a claim this morning."

  She always had a mixed reaction as the claims came in. That meant someone had died, and that was always a sad thing. But they were in the business of continuing life, and as morbid as it was, death was what kept business going.

  "Okay. Just slide me the paperwork and I'll get to it." So much for her relaxing Saturday.

  He shook his head. "Not quite. I want you to drive down to Mercy Hospital and pick up our client."

  Brooke blinked in surprise. Picking up clients was typically a sales responsibility. She was simply a paper-jockey.

  A lump formed in her throat. She was suddenly keenly aware of how under-dressed she was. Sandals, shorts, and no sleeves. Her hair was still wet from the shower.

  "Me? I thought I saw Dana's car in the lot?"

  "She's here, but she's puking her guts out in her office. I'm gonna send her home. Are you okay with this?"

  "Sure, sure," she said, and stood up. "But, I mean…are you sure you want me representing the company like this at the hospital?"

  "Brooke, you look great." Wesley smiled and leaned closer. "To tell you the truth, I hate the way our sales guys dress when they pick up clients. They always look like funeral directors, which is the last thing I want clients to see when they open their new set of eyes. I want our guys to be more relaxed and casual, like you."

  Her cheeks turned red, and she pushed her glasses up to try to hide them. "I'll leave right now."

  "Good, thank you. Chris is in the lab, getting everything ready." He handed her a folder with all the documentation, and most importantly, the client's name. Isabel Thompson. "I'll see you soon."

  *****

  Brooke was excited as she left Soul-Ful and climbed in her car. Picking up a client wasn't a difficult task, but it felt good after four years that Wesley had enough confidence in her. She examined Isabel's folder. The woman was nearly eighty years old. By the end of the day she wouldn't feel old anymore.

  Her mood soured somewhat as she searched for a parking spot at the hospital. Souls were everywhere. They moved in and out of the walls, flew over the parking lot, loitered near the emergency room entrance. She had no doubt they were waiting for family, or were recently deceased themselves.

  She found the closest information desk and smiled at the woman typing at a keyboard. Her name-tag read Janice.

  "Hi, I'm with Soul-Ful. I'm here to pick up Isabel Thompson."

  "Aww, sweet old lady," Janice said. "She passed? Every time I saw her she just kept talking about how she'd have a new body soon. It's a good one, right?"

  Brooke laughed. "I haven't seen it, but all our bodies are top quality. She picked out several."

  "Good, good. When she wakes up, tell her to come and see Janice."

  "I sure will."

  Janice reached for a phone and made a call while Brooke waited. She wandered the lobby, just watching the people and spirits move around her. A spirit moved quickly down the hall, heading directly for her. She tried to move, but it passed right through her chest and flew out the door. Her hands shook for a moment as she regained her composure. A soul moving through the living never caused pain; there wasn't any sensation at all. But the thought of a soul passing through her body always unnerved Brooke.

  "He was probably just trying to feel your boobies," Janice called. "We've got some frisky souls around here."

  Her hand went to her chest, trying to calm her beating heart. She hadn't dated anyone since Troy, who also worked at Soul-Ful for a time before moving on. He was always trying to feel her up. She supposed it was better for a spirit to get frisky than a man reaching under her dress in a movie theater.

  "Hello, Brooke."

  She cringed at the voice, and turned to see her father leaning against the wall. It had been a few months since she last saw him. Even slouching against the wall he w
as taller than she was. They had the same eyes and nose. His hands were shoved inside his white coat, an annoyed look on his face. Brooke didn't expect to see him, as he didn't normally work the weekends.

  Like any conversation with her father, she knew it wouldn't end well.

  "Hi, Dad."

  "So, you get to play God today?"

  That was her father. He didn't greet her with How are you, or What have you been up to. He went straight to the disapproving, condescending tone. Brooke knew she should simply ignore him and walk away, but she couldn't. Unfortunately, she was too much like him.

  "Isn't that what you do every day?"

  "Actually, I'm a humble doctor. I just try to save lives."

  "Yes, and that's an amazing thing. But when you fail, I help people get their lives back."

  "Growing a body inside a factory, merging a soul with it, you call that getting a life back?"

  "It's a choice, Dad. You don't have to get soul insurance if you don't want to."

  "Believe me, I won't be. Taking an elderly soul and putting it inside a young body…that doesn't feel wrong to you?"

  She rolled her eyes. "It's not just the elderly. Look, if you want, just stand outside with the rest of the protesters in the morning. But I'm here on company business."

  "Ah, you finally graduated from paper handler?"

  Her face felt like it was on fire as she lowered her gaze. Her expression told Dad she was still behind a desk, and he let out a short chuckle. He took a step forward and took the folder from her. She nearly snatched it back, but a few eyes were already on them.

  "Aww, Isabel," he said. "I heard she wasn't doing too well. Everyone liked her. She had the entire third floor laughing all the time."

  "Was she sick?"

  "I'm not at liberty to discuss a patient's health."

  Brooke scowled as she ripped the folder away from her father. A nurse turned the corner ahead with a soul directly behind her. Janice stood from behind her desk and pointed to Brooke.

  "I guess this is Isabel," Dad said. "What kind of body did you get for her? Some busty exotic dancer type?"

  "I'm not at liberty to discuss our client's insurance policy."