The Many Afterlives of John Robert Thompson

by Valerie Lioudis

  The man in the nearest car rolled his window down when he saw what John was trying to do. “Can I help you, man?” the man asked.

  “I sure hope so. We are all pretty new here, so we are really confused and just want to know what is going on. How long have you been here?” John asked.

  “Not really sure. Depends on when now is. It’s real easy to lose track of time here. I got here in 62. So, however long that is.

  “1962?” John gasped.

  “Yeah, man. Guy in the next car over has been here since 85, and I mean 1885.”

  Pinkie started crying again. The radio suddenly crackled through the silence in the car. “All of you out there on the road waiting to get in, here is another solid gold hit just for you. Just hang in there we are working hard on our expansion projects. Rock on, my lost souls. You’ll be home soon enough,” the radio called out before a song John had never heard before from some lost era played through the speakers.

  “Turn it off or I am gonna have to kill one of y’all,” the beast said.

  “Lotta good it’ll do ya!” Pinkie felt confident enough to snap back at him.

  The stoner was smart enough to click the dial off. “We can try listening again in little bit. That song was weird. Never heard anything like it. Want to know how I got the thing working? Turns out I was turning the dial the wrong way. It was all right on page 42. Name’s Travis, by the way.”

  “Good job, Travis,” John said, happy that someone else in the car was actually trying to do something useful.

  “I love my tunes. I was in a band when I was alive. Music keeps me calm.”

  “Mary,” a voice peeped from the back.

  “What?” asked John.

  “My name is Mary.”

  Well, that’s a step in the right direction, John thought. He looked over at the giant, but he was staring out his window obviously avoiding having to interact with the group. That was fine by John, he had no interest in forcing any of them to have some kind of big kumbaya moment. “So, what do we do down here?” John yelled over to the other car.

  “Wait. Far as we can tell, they let a few in a time. We sit here for what feels like an eternity, and just when you feel like you can’t stand it a second longer the traffic moves forward just a little bit at a snail’s pace. But it beats sitting still, you know what I mean? For a second you think you are getting somewhere and for that second everything is glorious. I’ve been here so long I think Hell is going to be a welcome change.”

  “You know why we are sitting here instead of getting in?”

  “Far as any of us can piece together most, if not all of us, are deemed unworthy and end up down here. They didn’t expect such a big crowd so we are all basically stuck waiting for space to open up. That’s what the guy on the radio has told us. It all comes in bits and pieces. The hard part is listening to the music he puts on. That last song was a doozy. Saw you guys clicked it off. Been a long time since he played anything from this century. If you listen long enough you can hear music from all ages of man. Some of those ages really stunk.” The man laughed to himself at that last bit.

  “Thanks for the info,” John said, startled by the sudden movement of the cars in front of him.

  “Here we go! Enjoy it while we are moving, this won’t happen again for a bit,” the man said as he took off.

  He sped up to nowhere, and it seemed as soon as they started they were stopped again. “Glorious!” they could her the man shout from a few rows ahead. They were no longer lined up next to each other. John had to wonder if the man had lost his mind if he felt the 100 feet that they got to move up was really an awesome experience.

  They were close enough to a road sign to be able to read the words that were written on it. Hell: Est wait time from this point: 1000 years. Mary threw up in the backseat. The giant decided that was his final straw and burst his fist through the window, reached out and grabbed the outside door handle to yank the door open. It worked. He took off at an incredible speed that John had never seen anyone match in his entire life.

  “Isn’t he going to end up back here again?” Travis wondered.

  “Probably,” John answered.

  “He’s not going to like that,” Travis countered.

  “I bet he won’t,” John said.

  He had made it far enough that he was no longer in their view. Maybe he could get away. They hadn’t been there long enough to be experts in the field of what happens on the Highway to Hell. If that sign was telling the truth they had a millennium or so to figure it all out. So really, there was no rush. Pinkie wasn’t the only one who became nauseous at that idea. John didn’t think that Mary fit her, so he decided he would be calling her Pinkie for the rest of this obnoxiously long trip. When you’re not in control of the big things, sometimes it feels really good to be able to control the little ones.

  That familiar sizzle came from the backseat. The beast was back and this time he looked less adversarial, and somewhat defeated. John hoped the other two were smart enough to give him space for a bit before bombarding him with questions about what just happened. Travis, it turns out, was not.

  “Dude, you made it way further than that other guy. That was awesome! You have to tell us what was out there.”

  “Things that are faster and stronger than me. That’s what’s out there.”

  Since they were already talking and he hadn’t pulled Travis apart limb by limb, curiosity got the best of John. “Did it hurt?”

  “Nope. Not as much as opening my eyes and seeing all of you asswipes.”

  That was an encouraging thought. If being torn apart didn’t feel painful, John was hopeful that Hell itself was nothing like what they had envisioned while on Earth. Maybe it was like the pictures in the brochure, more like the everyday things they did while they were alive. He hoped there were no demons tormenting you for all of time. He thought back to where all of his after-death information came from and realized it was from a bunch of people who had never done it before.

  The Rules and Regulations… Stay seated in your vehicle at all times. No cutting in line. Make sure your vehicle is at full capacity when entering the intake center. No speeding. Make sure all your papers are in order for the processing agent.

  Wait, what? What was that last part? John thought. “The rules say we should have papers. Anyone have papers?”

  “What kind of papers?” Travis asked.

  “I don’t have the slightest clue,” John said as he showed them the line in the rule book.

  They all started checking their pockets. Each one of them had a small white slip with their picture on it. Their basic information was typed on the other side. Name, city of origin, and occupation were all on there, along with their age. John was surprised to see the giant had been an archeologist. He imagined something much more manly, like steel worker or body builder.

  Pinkie had been a day care worker, and Travis was a full-time student. There was also a mysterious number at the bottom of each of their cards. The giant, whose name was Tyrell as they all learned from his card, had the number four. Pinkie had an eight, Travis a five, and John a thirteen. These numbers came with no explanation. John hoped for his sake that the higher the number the better off you were going to be once you got in. He was not overly optimistic about it though, because his luck always ran the wrong way.

  He flipped open the notebook to see if there was some explanation in there. There were more lines of basic conduct and how to get to the intake center. There, at the very end, was a Frequently Asked Questions section. 3. Where are my papers located and what are they used for? Your papers will be located somewhere on your person. They were generated when you passed from the land of the living to the realm of the dead. These papers are used by our processing agents to identify and sort our new arrivals. Basic demographic information is on them, along with your destination code.

  “
I think those numbers at the bottom are our destination codes. It talks about us having them on us for our intake,” John shared with the others.

  6. What is a destination code and how does it affect me? Your destination code is determined by several factors. Your personality traits are weighed along with your largest flaws, or what many of you called sins. Your code signifies what area in Hell you will be sent to make your penance. Individuals do not get to leave Hell, but as they serve their time more freedoms are made available to them. Your afterlife is a matter of balance and as the scales are brought more towards equality you will be rewarded.

  7. What does my destination code mean? There are far too many codes available for this book to explain each individual code. Your intake processing agent will be able to explain what your unique experience will be.

  23. Why is there such a long wait to get into Hell? Hell seems to be a desirable place for mortals to spend their afterlife. We know this because so many of you decide to come here! In the early days, we had an idea that it would be fairly popular, but we never knew it would take off like this. We have done our best to make room available for all the arriving souls, but we have experienced construction delays. We truly appreciate your patience.

  John relayed what he had learned to the others and passed the book back to Pinkie. He leaned back as far as he could and closed his eyes. Travis clicked the radio back on again. Songs from the sixties and seventies played for a while. They were replaced with classical music that sounded too much like elevator or hold music for John’s taste. The longer he sat there the more he could feel the instinct to run kicking in.

  Man was not made to be confined in a small space for an undetermined amount of time. It was a prison sentence without an ‘out’. Life without parole, but there was no longer any life. The stranger from before was correct about the moving, it only happened when you were about to reach your breaking point. Pinkie had taken to humming tunes that none of them had ever heard before, and even though she had a pretty voice, it began to grate on everyone’s nerves after the first year or so.

  Travis was a drummer. His fingers were constantly tapping away at the sound from the radio or the sound from inside his own head. The giant would freak out every few days and make a break for it. Each time, John would count in his head until the sizzle announced his return. As time went on he was getting further and further away from the car before being ripped to shreds.

  They never made any real progress. Each time they would crawl forward the cars near them would change, but that was about it. The voice on the radio kept pushing the Keep Calm agenda. John was a smart man though. Smart enough to reason that there was no intake center. At least, that was what he now reasoned. There was no Hell to get to because he knew they were already there. All of these instructions and mysteries were just misdirection to build up false hope and stretch the torture out.

  It is a Dog’s Life

  John spent his entire life unaware that he was carrying around a lethal allergy. It was a beautiful day outside, so he decided to spend it in the park. He wandered down the paths, enjoying the sights and smells that you only get to see when you are out in the great outdoors. The wind rustled the leaves in the underbrush. John walked down the winding trails while taking pictures with his camera. They weren’t particularly good or interesting, but he liked them, and that was all that really mattered.

  John wandered down a path that allowed him to walk across a small creek. He did his best to avoid as many of the algae covered rocks as possible. They were everywhere and were a disaster waiting to happen. He made it all the way across without missing a beat, but as he took his first step back onto dry land, the rock below his boot gave way and he had to grab onto a tree branch to steady himself.

  What he couldn’t see was the bee that had landed on the branch and was minding its own business until his huge palm came crashing down on it. In the bee’s defense, instinct dictates that there really is only way for him to react in this situation. And so, in his last act, he planted his stinger firmly in John’s hand. The pain was instantly excruciating. It felt like someone had injected hot acid into his hand and it was running up his arm. Then, the itching began.

  The area surrounding the sting swelled up, but the itching spread through his whole body. When it reached his head seconds after being stung, he could feel his throat closing on him. There wasn’t much he could do. He didn’t have an epi-pen or antihistamine on him because he never knew the danger he had been in for the last 45 years. If he had, he might have been able to save himself. But there he was, tumbling over into the creek he had so carefully traversed seconds before.

  He tried in vain to catch his breath, but those deep full lung gulps that we all take for granted alluded him until he suffocated alone in the woods. His last thought was to wonder how long it would be before someone found him since he had wandered so far off the marked trails. It was fall, and probably the last good weekend before the weather turned and got too cold for those that were recreational hikers to venture out of their cozy homes. John figured it would be a while and grew sad for his mother, who would think he had also abandoned her.

  His next thought was in the body of a completely different creature. The lights hurt and he was uncomfortably cold. He tried his best to cry out, but it came out as a whimpering whine. His sense of smell was heightened to a level that he could have never dreamed of in his old body. The air around him was sweet but metallic. There were several other whimpers coming from all around him. A very large, very wet tongue came down and began to lick goo off of his whole body. The more the tongue cleaned him, the less cold and uncomfortable he felt.

  His eyes stayed closed tight for fear of looking into the light and the burning sensation that would follow. Soon, all the motion stopped and he was able to curl up against the largest, furriest pillow he had ever had the pleasure to find. Inside, he could hear a heart beating and lungs breathing. His own heart and breath matched that of what he was sure was his mother. Conflicting thoughts were beginning to take over his consciousness. He knew he had just been in the woods. John inhabited a very different feeling body, but this new body felt right and safe. He hoped that things would make more sense if he got some rest.

  He really couldn’t help but fall asleep anyway. He felt too warm and too safe. The soft snores of those around him lulled him to sleep. He awoke to a pain that overtook his whole body. It was a hunger that screamed and ached at every part of his being. His new sense of smell led him directly to a source of nourishment, and as he drank, he felt better and better. This sleep-eat cycle went on for days.

  There were times when he was lifted away from his new mother by what he knew, somewhere in his mind, were people. He loved people. He had once been one so he felt a connection that was deep and primal with them. They were helping to care for him now and he pledged never to forget that. It was a loyalty born of the deepest and oldest of connections. John was able to open his eyes one morning without the fear of pain.

  He saw around him what he had suspected from the beginning. There were 5 other pups in this litter. He was overjoyed to have been reborn in the body of his all-time favorite dog, the golden retriever. What he wondered was, who was inside his siblings? Were they also humans reborn as animals, or were they just first-time dogs. There was no way to ask because the only sound he had been able to make in the last couple of days was a cry of pain. He used that mostly when he was hungry. Honestly, he was always hungry, except when he slept.

  More days passed and he was able to use his four new legs, which took some getting used to since he had spent so much time on two. He spent his days tussling and nipping at his siblings, and trying to win his mother’s favor. He missed his old mother, but was having a hard time remembering her face. Her smell, on the other hand, was still there. It was soft and sweet like flowers. Thinking of it made him wish he could visit with her. He knew she was most likely hurting right now. Even if he co
uld find her, he would have no way to tell her that he was alright. Each time he would drift off to sleep, he would reach deep into his memory to think of her face, but it was a task that was becoming more difficult and no amount of wishing could stop that.

  He woke one morning and realized that he had forgotten his name. He knew he had one at one time, but it was gone. It was like a whisper hiding in the back of his mind. He reached and reached with his thoughts, but just couldn’t grasp it. That was the day he was looked at for the first time. There was a parade of people who came in every few hours and played with his siblings and him. He loved these moments. The people would play and pet each of them. Some came alone, some in pairs, and a few were in large groups with lots of children. They all had such different smells.

  John avoided the ones that smoked. Their scent made him sneeze. Not one of his brothers, though. He would catch a whiff of the scent of tobacco and bounce around like crazy. That puppy knew what he was looking for in a new home. While John had enjoyed the time with the humans, he hadn’t felt the same kind of draw towards them. That was until she walked through the door.

  A small child and her mother were looking for a new dog. Their last dog had passed after many years of living with them as part of the family. The little girl had never known a time without a big furry protector, and her mother felt it was time to find a new member to add to their small family. John sniffed the air, and there it was, that soft sweet smell that reminded him of home. The little girl stepped over the gates and onto the floor with the litter of puppies. John instantly knew she was destined to be his.

  He would have to do everything he could to convince them to take him with them when they left. As she sat down, all the puppies rushed over to play and be pet. His plan was different. He was going to show her how she made him feel. While all of the other puppies were acting rambunctious and out of control, he snuck onto her lap. He curled up and wrapped her smell around him like a warm blanket. His plan was to pretend to sleep, but once he got there, he was so comfortable that he drifted off.