by KJ Harlow
Greg pumped his fist quietly to the side. Noticing my look of dread, he then gave me an apologetic look and mouthed, “sorry.” Tor ignored him.
“I’ll have one of the Deliverers take you to your room soon. We will begin after you get some rest.”
Before I could respond, he walked back to the meeting room, planted his big hand on the glass door and went back inside. I looked down at my hands glumly. Me and physical activity go way back and it had always been a rocky relationship. I just wasn’t cut out for running, jumping or lifting heavy things. I had poor stamina, low energy most days and was always the last person picked in sports teams at school. I wondered if being dead meant that I wouldn’t feel as physically weak. If Greg’s surreptitious rubbing of his side was anything to go by, I knew the answer would be no.
Greg noticed how dispirited I look and wrapped his hand around my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze.
“Don’t worry. The good thing about being dead is that you recover a lot faster. Having a body is just excess baggage,” Greg said comfortingly. “But yeah, Tor will put you through your paces. In his previous life, he was in the Norwegian Army.” I turned to Greg, my eyes widening in real fear.
“Anyway, I’ve got to get back.” He started walking back towards the meeting room. He brought his hand to touch the glass door, looking back at me and giving me a thumbs up with his other. The glass disappeared before he could touch it as Tracy started making her way out. His hand was now moving dangerously close to her breasts. Like lightning, her hand flashed up and closed around Greg’s hand. He snapped his head back towards her, accidentally bumping his lips into hers.
Tracy looked at Greg in mock innocence as Greg jumped away, mortified.
“Oh coming straight for dessert now are we?” She purred. Greg’s mouth became slack. He raced back into the meeting room, head down all the way.
I clutched my stomach and doubled over in laughter. It was the first time that I had laughed since I died. Tracy turned back towards me and flashed her brilliant smile. “He’s so cute. Now, I’ve been asked to take you to your room for some beauty sleep.” I was too busy laughing to object when she skipped over and linked arms with me. “Come on, let’s go!”
I had to admit Tracy was nothing like I thought she would be. Yes she seemed like someone I would have avoided when I was alive but I was surprised how quickly I warmed up to her here. I wasn’t a complete hermit but on the introvert-extrovert spectrum, I always leaned more towards the left. Being around fake people tired me out. Tracy wasn’t fake at all. She was just genuinely a nice person who was able to laugh at herself.
She certainly wasn’t shy about body contact. We hadn’t unlinked our arms since we were in the control room. I always snickered when I saw girls do that when I was alive. I would joke to Stan that they had to link arms to combine their brain cells just to be able to walk and breathe at the same time. Now that I was one of the links, I had to admit that I did like the sense of companionship. First Agatha then Greg and now me. Had she tried getting close to the other men? Silas? Walter? Tor?
“I committed suicide. OD’ed on meth,” she confessed as we strolled through another hallway. I listened quietly. I had never done drugs. Only smoked a cigarette once and threw up that one time. Alcohol and sleep (usually in that order) were what I liked.
“I got into the wrong crowd. I started with one hit. Felt good – great actually. One hit became two. Then two, four. Before I knew it, I was sleeping with my dealer,” she said contritely, biting her bottom lip. “I don’t even remember dying. It just… happened.” She trailed off.
“Next thing I knew, I was in the Waiting Room. I was confused. It felt like I was at–”
“A doctor’s office.” We said at the same time, beaming at one another.
“You too, huh?” She said to me. I nodded. It was the most I’d smiled in ages. Definitely the most since I died.
“I was certain I was going to Hell,” she said contritely. “I’d done so many bad things when I was alive.” Catching my enquiring look, she quickly added, “oh no, I’d never killed anyone. I was desperate, but I would never kill for a hit.”
“I was surprised to get called in by Death. To be honest, I thought he was pretty hot,” she giggled. “But he gave me a second chance. And now,” her somber tone suddenly evaporated, “I deliver lost souls back to the Underworld!” She finished with her trademark brilliant smile. She could have been a model when she was alive. I felt glad for her that in this unexpected afterlife she had found a purpose.
“Here we are!” Tracy said brightly. We were in a section of the building that had eight doors. I started picturing the Deliverers I had met. Greg, Walter, Agatha, Tracy, Silas, Tor and myself. Was there another Deliverer that was currently on a mission? The doors were also made of gnarled wood, just like the ones in Death’s office. I noticed that the doors had a little gold plaque with black letters spelling out their owner’s name. I was pleasantly surprised to see my name already up there. My room was next to one that had a gold plaque with no name on it. I walked up to it curiously.
“Is there a Deliverer I haven’t met yet?”
Tracy’s demeanor suddenly changed. She seemed tense as she paused, trying to think of the best answer to give me. “No,” she said. I looked at her, an eyebrow raised. She had turned away, suddenly very interested in her fingernails. Sensing that I knew that there something not right about how her answer, she abruptly faced me again, her characteristic smile masking the conflict my question had created in her.
“Come on, let’s have a look inside your room,” she said, opening the door to my room with one hand and waving me forward with the other.
I really liked Tracy. I hadn’t really had a girlfriend before, so to have someone like her was a new experience. I had to admit though that people like her did tire me out, even if their energy was positive and infectious. I was lying on my new bed. It was pretty big, bigger than the one Stan and I had slept on. We stayed in a studio apartment and had a queen size bed. It was a bit squishy at first but really cozy at night. During the summer though, one of us would end up sleeping with most of their body on the floor, usually Stan.
I missed my boyfriend. I wasn’t usually the clingy type, but with everything that happened up until my death and just after, it’s safe to say that he hasn’t exactly been at the top of my mind. The messages he sent me before I died bubbled back up.
Are you there?
This isn’t going to work out.
I need to talk to you.
What exactly did he want to tell me? I had to get back to the Overworld as soon as I could, find him and explain what the hell has been happening. As I lay on the bed and let my weary soul rest, images of his smiling face shone brightly in my mind’s eye before disappearing into the darkness of my slumber.
I had just woken up. My vision was blurry. The room was dark. Hungry. I was hungry. I called for my Mama. I didn’t see the familiar shadows on the wall. I rolled onto my right side. I called again, longer this time. There she was! I couldn’t see Mama but I could see her shadow. My vision was clear now, as was my mind. I sensed something new. I didn’t know the word for it, but it made me feel scared and sad at the same time. It was heavy and cold. I whimpered.
I saw another shadow. Bigger. Approaching Mama’s shadow. Coming from behind her. I saw her shadow suddenly turn around. Her shadow moved into the big shadow. They stayed together for a moment, but something repelled. Was she pushing the big shadow away? The big shadow moved towards Mama’s shadow. Mama’s hand reached out and hit the big shadow. The big shadow became red. Blood red. What was blood? How did I know about it?
The big red shadow was now angry. Very angry. He roared. I screamed now. The big, red shadow became still. Mama’s shadow moved quickly. She came – flew – to me. She got to my room first, stood near the door, but not close enough for me to see her face. The big red shadow was even bigger now. He hit Mama. Mama didn’t move. She blocked the door. She protect
ed me. I was screaming. I heard a click. It was quiet. Then the loudest noise I’d ever heard.
Something wet and warm landed all over me. It was like the milk that I liked, but different. It was red. It was thicker. It tasted strange. It was as red as the big red shadow. It was blood. It was Mama’s. It was coming out of Mama. She kept standing. There were more loud noises and more blood came out. Finally, Mama fell. The big red shadow stepped over her. I didn’t know what to do. I was hungry. All I could taste was blood. I didn’t see his face. Then my ears started ringing.
“Rose! Rose!” Strong hands firmly grasped my shoulders, shaking me gently but insistently.
My face was wet. I had been crying. The dream was disappearing, but the feelings were lingering. I didn’t even see who was shaking me, but I sat up and threw my arms around them.
I pushed my face as hard as I could into their chest. It was solid and strong. I felt his arms close around me, hard but soft at the same time. I felt his cheek on the top of my head, shooshing me gently as I sobbed uncontrollably. He rocked me until my sobbing subsided. I turned my head and pushed my left ear into his chest. There was no heartbeat, of course; we were in the Underworld. He wasn’t alive because he was a Deliverer. Because he was Tor.
“You missed your training,” he rumbled, sending comforting vibrations through my body. I didn’t say anything. I just wanted him to keep talking. For a moment, he just kept rocking me. Then he jumped up as if he had touched a live wire, dropping me back onto the bed.
“You missed your training,” he repeated, his voice this time containing a hard edge. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked up at him, confused.
His expression was torn between concern and coldness as he looked down at me. Finally, he slid his mask back on. “I’ll inform Death. We will need to reschedule your training.” He turned on his heel and started walking towards the door. He had a hand on the doorknob when I called out to him.
“Tor, wait.” He hesitated. I didn’t know what I wanted to ask him. He stood there for a moment longer before opening the door, leaving the room and carefully closing it behind him.
I’d never had that dream before but I knew what triggered it. Mortimer shooting me in the head unlocked a box I didn’t even know existed. This virus of conflict now existed in my soul. Somehow I felt that it was more so a memory rather than a dream.
And Tor. Where did that come from? I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around myself and rocked myself gently. The feeling of tenderness was disappearing as quickly as the imprint on my bed where he had sat as he cradled me.
Six
I sat on my bed, listening to Tor’s footsteps fade away into the distance. If the dream hadn’t woken me up, being in Tor’s protective embrace definitely did. My mind was a maelstrom of emotions but it was alert and awake. I actually felt more energized than I had in a long time. Was this how you felt when you didn’t have a body burdening your soul?
I closed my eyes for a moment and began meditating. When I was alive, I meditated before I went to bed, just to help me calm the storm swirling in my mind so I could sleep more peacefully. A post-sleep meditation session was in order after what had just happened. I let the dreams – or were they memories? – cling onto my consciousness then gently float away when new thoughts came to the forefront of my mind. Would I be ready when it was my turn to shoot a Conflicted?
I opened my eyes as I heard some murmuring. It was muffled, but I could make out Walter’s voice. Was there someone else in the room? I swung my legs out of the bed and planted my feet on the ground.
I walked soundlessly across the room to the door. Slowly turning the knob, I was glad that the doors of the Underworld were well oiled. I stepped outside my room and surveyed the other Deliverers’ rooms. All of them were closed except for Walter’s to my right. His door was slightly ajar, a faint light cutting through the shadows. I could hear Walter muttering to himself inside.
I stood a few inches away from the door and clasped my hands in front of me. Besides the introduction in the meeting room, I hadn’t talked to him yet. I remembered his kindly eyes and welcoming smile. Never having a father, it was nice to have an older male to talk to. Making up my mind, I raised my hand and knocked three times.
The muttering stopped abruptly. There was silence for a few seconds before Walter cautiously asked, “Agatha, is that you?” Agatha? Why would he think I was Agatha? Was he expecting her?
“No, it’s Rose,” I said evenly. I heard a chair scrape along the floor as Walter got up and plodded across the room. The next moment, he had opened the door and was looking at me curiously.
“Hello, Rose. How are you?” He asked, warmth crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What’s got a young woman like you knocking at an older man’s door in the middle of the night?”
That would have seemed creepy in most other cases, but there was something about Walter that I trusted. Maybe it was his up-front nature or maybe his age. He really wasn’t that old. He was in his late 50’s, early 60’s at the latest. But if the lines around his eyes were anything to go by, he’d experienced a lot when he was alive.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I responded, smiling back at him. “I heard you talking in your room.”
His smile faded and was replaced with a look of regret. “I’m sorry. I had just begun journaling and sometimes I think aloud. Did I wake you?” He enquired gently.
“No, not at all. I was already awake.” My own smile faded when memories of the blood in the dream licked the corners of my consciousness. “Why did you think I was Agatha?” I asked, watching his response closely.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Sometimes we… talk,” he responded dismissively. I did catch the pause as he considered his choice of words. “She’s a good listener once you get to know her. Did you know she was in a convent in the UK when she was alive?” So that explained the Sister Burnside formality.
“No, I only just met her earlier.”
“Oh of course,” Walter muttered sheepishly. We were silent for a while. My eyes slid over to a worn-looking journal sitting on his desk. “Would you like to talk?” He said abruptly, “I mean, are there any questions you might have about being a Deliverer or how things work down here?”
Questions that I had stored away since I met the Deliverers suddenly started fighting for my attention. “Yeah, I’ve got a few,” I said, trailing off as I mentally organized them in a list.
“Well, I’ll do my best to answer them,” he said brightly. “But first, let me take you somewhere.”
Never in my life would I have thought that I would be at the Grand Canyon. I’d never even gone to the United States before but here I was now. Walter and I were sitting right on one of the ledges. Lucky I wasn’t scared of heights. As I looked down into the endless abyss, I couldn’t help but feel how easy it would be to end everything if I were to slip. Then I remembered I was already dead.
“This is The Room,” Walter yelled above the gale gusting around us. “It’s a special dimension in the Underworld that we can control with our minds. One thing we can do is recreate places from our memories. I was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona. When I need time to think, I just come here and recreate my favorite big, old hole in the Earth.”
“Can I have a go?” I asked hopefully.
“Depends. Where are we going? I’ll only let you try if it’s somewhere fun.” Walter teased.
“It depends on how you define ‘fun’, but I always used to go to this place to talk or think,” I smiled, eyes glazing over wistfully.
Before I’d even finished the sentence, the environment was changing. The space around us seemed to be folding up rapidly. I took a step back as it collapsed towards me, not really knowing what I was trying to avoid. The room was plain white and seemed to think for a few seconds before it unpacked itself and rolled out to become the Lindt Café, a popular little café in downtown Melbourne that was renowned for its chocolatiers. Walter and I were sitting at a table with mugs filled to the brim with sm
ooth, creamy hot chocolate.
Walter picked up his cup tentatively, giving me a look of mock suspicion. I put my elbows on the table and cradled my chin, giving him a knowing look. His eyes flared open in exaggerated enjoyment as he downed the hot chocolate in one hit.
“Delicious,” he said, licking his lips. “Great choice.” I smiled appreciatively. We soaked in the atmosphere for a while. It felt comfortable being around him.
“Walter, how did you die?” I inquired, casually.
“Whoa, straight to the point, aren’t we?” He said, surprised. I smiled at him, not saying anything more.
“When I was alive, I was a wealthy businessman. I lost it all. It wasn’t the first time. I’d made and lost my fortune several times. I was trying to make it back with another speculative deal but got mixed into the wrong crowd. Next thing I know, I find myself in some Waiting Room with Death giving what I thought was the best deal of my life... well death.” He finished, grinning.
“What sort of business did you do?”
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” he said, giving me a wink.
I pouted at him. It made sense that he was a businessman in his last life. He was clever with his words and had a shrewd, sharp attitude about him, even in spirit. I moved onto my next question.
“Can you tell me more about the Tormented?” Walter’s expression suddenly changed. He became pensive, looking into his mug and mindlessly swirling the left over foam sitting at the bottom. After what seemed like a few minutes he broke the silence.
“Everyone’s got some conflict in their soul. Something that’s ripping them apart at the seams. That’s what creates the Conflicted when the Tormented shoot them with their Ombre Guns. The Tormented are different. They died in circumstances where an event of great torment manifested their soul into a powerful, corrupt force.”
“Great torment?” I repeated. Walter looked at me solemnly.
