Killer

by Gillian Zane

  “Send her.”

  The man punched something into his device. Then he approached me, pulled me to my feet by the material of my shirt; showing a strength I didn’t expect from his small frame. He then led me to the back door of Drake’s office before typing out a code on the keypad next to the door. He opened it and pushed me through.

  I only had time to hear Drake’s scream as the door slammed behind me.

  11

  The Hall of Records

  “Through this door is the Hall of Records. This is the area in which you will work most of your time. You will have ten days on and then one day for rest and reflection.”

  With a blink I was standing in a great hallway the color of the sea. A man stood before me. He was about my height, with golden skin, dressed only in a white toga looking thing that covered his lower half and was loosely tied between his knees. What looked to be a tattoo, but might have been paint, was a depiction of a large bird across his hairless chest.

  You would think a man operating in nothing more than a loin cloth would be chiseled, but that wasn’t the case. He had a large belly, even though his frame was thin, and it hung over the waistband of the white covering.

  “Why am I here?” I asked stupidly. I knew why I was here. I had pissed off Persephone. She finally got to get rid of me. And now I had a new job, but what that job entailed didn’t look promising. My head felt funny. I still felt drained of energy. I could barely process what had happened to me. The fact that I had finally figured out who had killed me, and was now demoted and stuck doing the gods knew what was lost on me in my hazy state.

  “You have been assigned to the Hall of Records,” he stated simply.

  “What am I supposed to be doing here?” I rubbed at my head, something was wrong with my peripheral vision. It was almost like everything outside of my direct vision was just a dream, a hazy dream.

  “Filing.”

  “Filing?” I asked in horror.

  “Yes. It is a well-respected job, if not a bit tiring and monotonous. In this branch of Afterlife we house all the knowledge of the multi-verse. Every book that has been penned, every secret dossier sent. In this area we keep the records of the souls. When a soul is born into the world, they are assigned a designation and then are given a file. When that soul passes, their file is moved to the records of the dead. When a soul is reborn, that file moves from the records of the dead to the records of the living. It will be your job to file these records properly.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  “Like I mentioned previously, it is a monotonous job, but one of great importance. Most that are given this assignment do not last long. Once they serve their punishment they move back to their golden positions, or they fade as was the intention,” he sighed and led me to a desk in the middle of a small chamber.

  “Fade?” I gulped, the word ringing true.

  “It is horrid to watch.” He looked away as if recalling that particular horror.

  “You mentioned punishment. Does that happen a lot?”

  “All who get assigned here are being punished for some reason or another; most by their parental deities because they will not fall in line. Gods and goddesses tend to be very controlling of their offspring once they enter Afterlife.” He sighed again and ran a finger over what looked like a smudge on the pristine wall.

  “Why are you here? Are you being punished too?” I asked.

  “I am the son of Thoth. This was the duty I was born to do once I entered the world of the gods. There is no other path for me.”

  “Depressing,” I said under my breath.

  “It is a well-respected position.” He shot me a look that said he didn’t appreciate my commentary. “And since the Egyptian gods and goddesses are no longer worshiped in as great of glory as before, I have to play my role. It is either do my intended job or fade away. I choose to exist. And I am rewarded for the work I do here. Through here,” he said through compressed lips. He held a door open and I walked into a monstrous room that I could not see the end to. Shelving reached into the sky, and I could barely see where they ended. Everything was neutral colors, light gray shelving with lighter gray filing boxes positioned in neat rows along the shelves. On the outside of each box was a number printed in large bold black print.

  There was a small alcove to my left with a desk and a computer. The desk was all white, and the computer was a silver all-in-one apparatus with only a mouse and keyboard attached to it, I saw no other cords or devices, or even a power source.

  Next to the desk lay a stack of those file boxes. Some were large, the size of luggage, others were smaller, only the size of a card box.

  “That is where the to-be-filed area is, and where you are assigned. Files will be brought in and placed near or on the desk. If you have an issue with a number that you cannot read, or you feel there is an error with one of the files, you can look through the database on the computer. Most of the 20th and 21st century souls can be searched within the database, but any soul that has not lived after 1901 will not be listed in the computer. We are working on digitizing those files. It is a tedious process as well.”

  I nodded, still trying to see the top of the stacks of files. It was impossible.

  “Once you are sure about the identification number, you will take the files and place them on their designated shelf.” He indicated the rows and rows of shelving that stretched as far as the eye could see.

  “Every being that lived has a file in here?” I asked in awe.

  “Yes- human, monster, god, and a few other beings. Everything that possesses a soul has a file.”

  “A few other beings,” I repeated, not knowing if I wanted him to expand on this. “How many?” I mused more to myself than him.

  “I cannot accurately quantify the amount of files we have in the records. The number is probably around two-hundred billion,” he said solemnly.

  “I would have thought more,” I said, glancing around me at the shelves that went on and on.

  “It is only in recent years that the human population has become so—” he paused and looked at me, nothing changing on his stoic face. “Invasive.”

  “So, this is what I’ll do all day, just file?” I thought it would be in good taste to change the subject. I looked from the desk to the great stacks of neatly organized shelves.

  “Until you fade away, or someone calls for you and ends your punishment,” he said without a hint of emotion in his voice.

  “Why are those my only options?”

  “It is what happens here. No one can consistently remain within this realm without consequences. There is very little energy directed down here. The monotony, and the lack of sustenance has its consequences. Usually, they go to sleep. They don’t wake.” His voice was rigid and unmoving, showing no emotion. This was the way it was, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  “Can I…?” I didn’t know what I was asking. What I could possible do to make this not happen. He ignored me.

  “There is no exit, do not try, it will only make things worse.”

  “How can it be any worse than this?”

  “It can,” he said with a confidence that told me he knew from experience.

  “Files will be deposited on the desk in the alcove. You’ll take them and file them on their designated shelves.” He gestured to the immense room. Shelves upon shelves reached up into the sky. I craned my head back, not being able to see the top of the shelves. “There will be two categories of files on your desk, living and dead. The dead will have red numbers; the living blue. Take the files and go to the transport. You can use the hand cart if you cannot carry them.” He led me to what looked like the window washing scaffolding used on high rise buildings, opened a small gate on it and gestured for me to go in.

  Once inside he went to a console in the center.

  “Punch in the ID number, and the class.” he explained. “Let’s do me for an example. 5891, and class D.” He typed it in and the transport hummed to lif
e. It went straight up into the air at such a speed that I cried out and grasped onto the rail in sheer terror. We came to a crashing stop a good fifty yards up and then began to move horizontally at a break-neck speed. I cried out again and he looked at me like I was an imbecile.

  After a couple brief moments, I got used to the speed and managed to stand straight and gain some composure.

  “Class D? What does that mean? What’s a class?” I asked, not really caring about him in particular. Persephone had been surprised that I was a Class E. And anything that surprised Persephone, I needed to know. Plus it would get my mind off the fading away statement from earlier. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to think about my future; I was pretty sure no one would be coming to get me out of this hell hole. Drake might try, but with his mother being as important as she was…I had very little hope.

  “All beings are put within a class- god, lesser god, animal etc. Animals are a class, but they are not filed here.”

  “What are the different classes?”

  “Class A, the originator gods and goddesses, Class B are the children of the originators, some are gods themselves, others angels, demons, titans, whatever you want to call them. Class C are the created, gods and goddesses spawned from human belief systems, Class D are the lesser gods, the forgotten, Class E, are enriched, the demigods that are more, Class F are demigods, child of god and a human. Class G are the monsters, Class H is human. Class J is monster and human…because sometimes they come out rather odd…”

  “Okay, I get it.” I held up a hand. Monsters. Wait, did he say Class E is enriched, a demigod that is more? What the…

  “Wait, hold up, I’m supposedly Class E.” The cart came to a stop in front of a group of drawers.

  “Each shelving unit has the number sequence on the side.” He pointed to the side of the shelving unit which had a sequence of numbers along the side. “They are subdivided by Classes also. Since there are not as many Class D as there are Class H, this area of shelving is smaller.” He ignored my question. “See, here is my box.” He placed his hand on a file box that was rather large and made a motion in front of it. The box opened slowly and revealed it was full of papers.

  “A lot of the times you will be adding the newly deceased, so they’ll go on empty shelving units. But sometimes you will be putting a box back in its rightful slot. This will be a reincarnated soul that is deceased again. Or refiling a box that was taken down for research. They automatically tighten up when you remove a box, so to make room just slide your hand underneath like this.” He showed me how to slide my hand across the bottom of the shelf and a space appeared, even though it looked impossible. “It is a rather simple operation, mono-“

  “Monotonous, yeah, I got that,” I said trying not to take it out on him.

  “When you are ready to return to the desk, press the home button.” There was a big button in the center in the shape of a little house. Original. He pressed it and the cart shot into motion. I managed to hold on this time.

  “So about this Class E thing?”

  “You did not know you are a Class E?”

  “Just found out recently.”

  “Do you not know who spawned you?”

  “I was adopted.”

  “It happens. A goddess or god does not want a child, so the baby is left with humans in hopes that the child’s true parentage is never determined. Less responsibility.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Children are a big responsibility.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m sure they are. Must be a bitch for a god to have to change diapers and such.”

  “You do not understand,” he laughed.

  “Obviously.”

  My mind was reeling. Was he saying that I was a demigod? Like Drake? That was impossible. I would know if I was a demigod. I would have figured out something was different about me, right? Drake had the crazy story about the cult. I didn’t even know I was adopted until after I died. But then, that did make sense, why my mother would have kept it a secret. She probably didn’t even know where I came from if I was dumped on her doorstep by a wayward deity.

  “When a god or goddess spawns an offspring, it can mean all kinds of things, especially if it is a higher god that has power within one of the realms. There will be infighting, jealousy, and usually attempts on the child’s life. Most demi offspring of the PTBs are taken out quickly once they enter Afterlife, usually by a rival deity. And if you are a Class E that means you are either- A plus H, B plus H or C, or D, which is frowned upon, or C plus D, E, or F, those are more accepted.” My head spun trying to figure out all the pairings. A and H, what? That was like the big God with a human. Did that happen? What else did he say? B and C? Or was it H and D?

  “So, if you are the son of Persephone and a human, you’re Class…” I tried to piece things together in my mind.

  “F.”

  “Because she’s…”

  “Class C.” Damn humans thought up that bitch.

  “But, that’s not me. That means I would have to be the child of…”

  “As I mentioned earlier, you would be the offspring of Class A and H, or B and H, B and C or B and D.”

  “So anyone?” This didn’t help me get any closer to the truth.

  “The last Class E that I met was the son of Perseus, the demigod and a goddess Perseus never confessed to. Obviously, everyone assumed it was with Athena since they became close after he gave her Medusa’s head, but she still maintains her virgin goddess status, plus they were both a child of Zeus…”

  I gaped at him.

  “They were brother and sister and probably had a kid?” Could I be the product of a brother and sister union between the gods? That might explain why they want to keep me a secret. Oh, I think I just want to go back to being human Cassie.

  “I too had a child with my sister; you must keep the bloodline strong.” I stared at him like he was out of his mind. He looked at me and shrugged. The cart came to a halt.

  “His name was Horance. It was an awful name for a demigod.”

  “You named your child Horance?”

  “Not at all.” he shot me a look that gave me the distinct impression he thought I was an idiot. “He was not my child. Please pay attention. He was the child of Perseus and a Class C goddess. Assumed.”

  “He was the child of a brother and sister god, a demigod pairing with a goddess and you focus on his name?”

  “It sounds like flatulence as it leaves your mouth.” He made a distasteful face. “He himself did not enjoy his name. He asked me to call him H. I obliged. Others did not.”

  “Yeah, okay. Poor guy. So, back to me, though. Are you saying I could be the child of a demigod and a god?”

  “Or goddess,” he corrected. “Or maybe the child of one of the PTBs and a human, that would be a tragedy, though, but it would make sense why you don’t know. They would want to keep that a secret. Again, the jealousy thing, and everyone would probably want to kill you if they found out.”

  “I don’t even have a grasp on all this PTB stuff,” I sighed.

  “Well, you’ve been assigned to the right place. I was once the Pharaoh, son of the god of wisdom, a god myself by right.” He chuckled as if recalling a fond memory, but then his face slipped back to a stoic mask.

  “Cassandra.” I stuck out my hand and he looked at it. He touched his hand to the top of mine in an odd gesture.

  “Djoser,” he said. “Let us work and I will enlighten you.”

  “So, I’ll get to learn all the secrets, right before I fade away into nothing.”

  “Is that not to be expected? This is Afterlife.”

  He was right.

  Me and the Pharaoh, that was all kinds of weird to think, parked the cart at the bottom and wandered back to the desk and picked up a stack of file boxes. Placing them on a hand cart we rolled them back to the window washer and this time Djoser stood back so I could figure out how this thing worked. In hindsight it wasn’t that hard, but in the
beginning I was a fumbling mess. Dropped a file box, then punched in the wrong number. I was pretty sure Djoser was going to regret having me down here in no time.

  I wasn’t really what you would describe as an organized person. Filing wasn’t exactly a skill set I possessed. And I was also pretty distracted by Djoser’s continued commentary. It was obvious he hadn’t had someone to talk to in a very long time, and my constant questions allowed him to drop a bit of knowledge. Something he seemed to relish.

  “In the beginning there were the creators,” he explained in the same monotone voice he had maintained through our entire conversation. “The scholars are not sure how many there were to begin with, because there are rumored to be creators for each of the multi-verses and galaxies, but we do know there is a female and male creator for our realms, male and female in the sense that both are needed to create. They cannot create life on their own. They must come together in some way for creation to happen.”

  “Cosmic booty call.” I was being juvenile as a reaction to my tragic situation. He ignored my ridiculous quip and continued.

  “In our galaxy the first things that our original gods created were their own children.” We were speeding along the shelves, and Djoser was speaking loudly to be heard over the wind. This room went on forever, imagine about two-hundred billion boxes ranging from the size of small cars to small card boxes, all stacked one on top of the other. The file box I held, was small compared to the rest and it must have been a newer birth since it was located in an area far from the lobby.

  The cart finally jerked to a stop and I hastily shoved the box on the shelf after making a spot for it between 109,789.2000091831 and 109,789.2000091833. The human numbers were quite daunting.

  “These children they created, those were the class B ones?” I asked.

  “Yes, depending on which religious belief system you subscribe to, these would be called the angels, the titans, or the spirits of the elements. These children also spawned their own children, making up the pantheon of what most call the PTBs. Most that die are looking for Maalik or Lucifer, but before those names he was called Hades and he’s reigned undisputed since time remembered. I worshipped him as Osiris.”