Jamie opened his eyes.
The eternity of agonizing, blinding pain had finally passed. He had spent years screaming as he felt his chest split apart, ripped asunder by his broken ribs. He had passed decades moaning in terror as he understood that the snapping of his spine meant that he would never be able to move again. That's what it felt like. An eternity. Death was eternity.
But if he was dead, why was he lying on something that felt suspiciously like a New York sidewalk?
Jamie rubbed his head, and realized with a shock that he could move. He patted down his chest, feeling solid muscle and flesh, same as always. No torn chest, broken ribs and definitely no punctured heart. He felt his head again. Same as ever, no cracked skull. He twisted around and touched his back. His spine seemed to be in perfect working order. The accident had already taken on the characteristics of a half-remembered dream. He still recalled the pain and what it had felt like, but at a distance. One thing seemed definite. He didn't appear to be dead.
Jamie sat up. He was wearing the same clothes he had on just before the accident. Of his iPod, wallet and other belongings there was no sign. He patted himself down all over again, in the manner of a man who has discovered a valuable item whom he thought was previously lost and is checking to make sure it was still there.
He felt perfectly fine, as ridiculous as it seemed. A nagging cough that had troubled him for a week seemed to have disappeared entirely. The only difference as far as he could tell was that the world seemed quieter than normal. The sounds of a typical New York night were muted somehow, little more than a murmur at the edge of his hearing. The moonlight and street lights were a little less bright, as if someone had placed a filter over the world. The wind seemed to have died down somewhat, even though Jamie could clearly see the leaves rustling on the trees. He looked around shakily, trying to get his bearings.
A delivery van had gone off the road and came to rest against an iron fence, having knocked over a lamppost in the process. Shattered glass and twisted metal were strewn about every which way. A pool of blood had formed on the sidewalk, the trail leading to the front of the van.
It all came back to him in a moment, the cold realization slamming into his brain like an icepick. He remembered seeing the truck hurtling towards Morgan and had reacted instinctively, without conscious thought.
He had to look, if only to assure himself that all this just wasn't some kind of dream. He moved forward, trying to see what exactly was sandwiched between the van and the fence, which was difficult because there was so much blood all over the place...
"Um, you might not want to do that."
Jamie turned around to see who had spoken. It was a pretty young woman with an affection for dark clothing, the picture of poise standing all alone in the middle of the street. She met his glance and gave him a little wave, and started walking towards him. Jamie observed every confident step with simple admiration. For a moment, he forgot where he was and what had happened to him. He couldn't remember having seen a more attractive girl in all his life.
"It's not really pleasant, you know. Most accident scenes aren't. Oh wow, this is never easy."
"Hello," Jamie said slowly. The girl had a sweet, cheerful voice. You could sense that she laughed often whenever she felt like it and didn't care if someone disapproved. She was petite, the top of her head barely rising above his shoulder even though Jamie wasn't particularly tall. She moved her head a little as she spoke, causing her waves of black hair to ripple invitingly. Jamie suddenly had a ridiculous urge to run his fingers through it and find out what it felt like. The girl kept her hands in the pockets of her black jeans, so he didn't offer his in greeting.
"Have we met before?"
"Only once, but you probably don't remember me."
"That can't be right. I would have remembered you," said Jamie, smiling dazedly. Then he mentally kicked himself. Five minutes ago he was kissing someone whom he thought was the love of his life, and now he was flirting with some random girl who appeared out of nowhere.
But then she laughed delightedly and easily, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world for Jamie to join in. Her eyes, deep and dark, twinkled cheerily. He noticed a stylized make-up pattern at the corner of her left eye, a little mascara trail that looped down and curled back up again. Her full lips were delicately painted with black lipstick, a fashion that on other girls Jamie would have found pretentious, but it looked strangely right on her. It contrasted strikingly with her very pale skin, fairer than any other girl he'd seen before. Jamie fought to focus.
"Morgan! What happened to her? Is she okay?"
The girl gestured to the scene. An ambulance had arrived and the paramedics were trying to extract a mangled body from under the front wheels of the truck. Despite the blood, the clothes looked strangely familiar, even from a distance.
Then he saw Morgan, wearing his jacket and being talked to by a couple of police officers. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably and tears were running down her face. Her mother was beside her, trying to calm her down. It didn't look like she was succeeding.
Jamie yelled and waved, but no one gave him so much as a glance. He tried to touch Morgan but his hand passed through her as if she was a well-made hologram.
"He saved my life. I don't believe it. I should have died instead, it's my fault he's dead," sobbed Morgan, wiping away her tears furiously with the sleeve of Jamie's jacket.
"It's not your fault, Mor. It's not your fault," said Jamie helplessly, and watched as her mother repeated his words.
"It's not her fault. It's mine."
Jamie walked away in a daze. The memory of his foolish promise came back to him again.
I'll always be there for my mom and Jeff.
I'll always be here for you Morgan.
The girl in black was waiting nearby, a sympathetic expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I really am. I see this again and again. It never gets easier."
"Just who are you supposed to be anyway?" said Jamie, turning his back on the accident scene.
"I'm Death. I've come to take you away."
Jamie nodded calmly. He'd just died. Okay. He was walking and talking, but apparently dead. So far, this was more than he'd expected out of death. He tried to speak.
"Is this the afterlife?" he asked, relieved to hear his voice sounding less choked.
"Not really. I suppose you could call it the point just before the afterlife. You're not quite there yet."
"So there is an afterlife after all?"
Death shrugged her shoulders. "I don't really know. That's something you have to find out for yourself. My involvement strictly ends at this stage."
"No kidding?"
"Not even a little."
"Wow. Um, mind if I sit down?"
"Go ahead," said the young girl who claimed to be the personification of death. She settled down on the sidewalk and crossed her legs demurely. Jamie sat down beside her and tried not to stare. The girl…Death…seemed completely at ease. If she was a weirdo who was setting all this up for some kind of sick joke, she didn't seem particularly nervous about it.
The last vestiges of the evening breeze ruffled her hair and Jamie breathed in her scent. It was fresh, clean, and seemed wonderfully unsuited for a being billions of years old and traditionally associated with decay, rot and despair.
"Aren't you supposed to be an angel? Why the Goth get-up?" he asked eventually.
"I'm not an angel, I'm just who I am. And I'm dressed like this because I like how it looks," explained Death patiently, although privately she was impressed. Few people remained as calm as Jamie did after the big moment. Some were hysterical, screaming in imagined pain but with very real fear. Some flatly denied that they were dead and tried to run away, only to find that the world wasn't as solid as it once was to them. Still more, usually religious people were actually insulted by her appearance and demanded to see the "official" representative. She dealt with all of them with the patience carefully cultivated from countless millennia of experience, and brought them over to the other side in the end.
Jamie was staring off into the distance. Death leaned back casually, resting her elbows on the pavement. The number of pedestrians had grown even larger, but the people still managed to take a detour around the pair of them. The noise of the city night grew quieter and quieter, until there was barely any noise.
"I'm dead. I've died. I thought…I just thought…this can't have happened. Why now?" Jamie mumbled. Death didn't say anything. Of course, he couldn't remain cool and calm forever. This happened sometimes. It was best to let them get it off their chests.
Morgan. I...I think I love her. I thought we were going to be together forever. She's...got problems, you know? She told me I was the only one who bothered to listen to her. Now I'm dead, and what's gonna happen to her?"
"I -"
"Do you know what I told my little brother just last night? I said I would always be there for him. I told him he didn't have to worry about a thing, as long as I was around. What's he going to do when he finds out? What's going to happen to him? What's going to happen to the people I love?"
"No one can know someone else's story," Death said gently. "All you can do is to live your own. It's time to close this chapter of your life. Take my hand."
"If I do take your hand," said Jamie, still not looking at her, "Does it mean I won't be able to see Jeff again? Or Morgan? My mom?"
"Your mother and brother have their own lives to lead. So does Morgan. You have to carry on by yourself, as they will," said Death.
"So you're saying I won't see them again."
"In all likelihood, no."
"What about Heaven? Don't I get to meet them again in Heaven?"
"That's something you have to find out by yourself."
"I've never been much of a religious person anyway. I'd prefer to stay where I am, thank you," he said politely, looking into her wonderful eyes again, although now they expressed slight exasperation.
Death raised an eyebrow. "Really. Why?"
"At least if I stay here, I can still see them. You know, watch over them and stuff. Try to talk to them, tell them things. I don't want to leave without saying goodbye. Please, I just can't leave them without at least saying goodbye," Jamie replied, his voice wavering a little near the end.
"What do you think you're going to do? It's not like that movie with Demi Moore. You can't interact with anything or communicate with anybody when you're dead. You'll just be…lost. Wandering around with nobody to talk to. Trust me. This is not what's best for you."
"Miss Death," said Jamie. "Most of my life people have been telling me what's best for me. Nine times out of ten they've gotten it wrong. You seem like a very nice person, and don't take this the wrong way, but there is no way in hell I am leaving without first setting things straight."
Death sighed resignedly. "There's nothing I can say that would make you change your mind, is there?"
"Nope," said Jamie comfortably, settling down on the curb. He felt better now that he had made up his mind. He was sure that Death meant well and all, she seemed surprisingly genial for a grim reaper, but she didn't understand him. Not really. Jamie made it a point to keep his promises. It was how his father had raised him. He wouldn't break this one for any reason, not even loss of life and limb.
"Okay, whatever. It's your life. It's late and I really should be going. I'll come by later when I've got the time, if you change your mind."
"All right. See you around."
Death was beginning to get irritated by his offhand manner. "Don't get too comfortable. Watch out for the restless dead. New York's not so nice by night."
"What restless dead?" asked Jamie, sitting up suddenly.
Silence greeted his question. Death had vanished, leaving Jamie alone. Even the faint murmurs had deadened to absolute silence, and he realized he could no longer feel the wind.
Shift
Death strode through the planes of existence, barely noticing each one as they whipped past her. Some of them defied human explanation or comprehension, filled with more wonders than the last. All of them were accessible to her. Anywhere living beings existed, there she would be when the time came. She reached the void between the worlds, a bleak lonely place filled with nothing but howling, freezing winds. A moment later, she arrived at her own realm, the sunless lands.
The sunless lands weren't exactly dark and gloomy. On the contrary, there was plenty of light. It just seemed to come from the sky itself rather than an actual star. Sometimes it shone brightly on the wide fields and rolling hills that made up her domain. At other times it would gradually dim to a very faint glow, until it could almost be mistaken for a cloudy night on Earth. A light breeze rippled the grass and rustled the leaves on the few trees that dotted the landscape. Aside from them there were no other living things in her realm. No birds wheeled in the sky overhead, no insects buzzed or crept amongst the flowers and grass. It was silent and still, but full of the peace that Death had come to love.
A single house stood on top of a small hill. It had two floors and a small garden around it, but no fence or gate. Death walked inside and shut the door. She adored her little house and its humble simplicity. She had tried a variety of other residences over the years, but they had never felt quite like home to her. For instance she once had a massive castle with soaring battlements and towers battered by a permanent, raging storm, but it was much too big for a single person and she always had trouble finding her tea cup when she wanted it. Her brothers and sisters had their own grand places and palaces, but she stuck to her cottage in the fields. It was the ideal place to kick back after a long hard day of work.
She removed her boots and gloves, tossing them onto the floor and stretched out on her long red couch. Her pet goldfish Slim and Wandsworth swum lazily in a small bowl on the coffee table beside her. As she reached for the bottle of fish food they began to circle around each other with excitement.
"Here you go, guys," Death said fondly, shaking a few flakes into the water. She lay back on her couch again and stared up at her ceiling.
There was something about that last young man that nagged at her. More than anything, the cool way he had told her that he was staying was far more composed than many others could have managed. There were those over the centuries who had also wanted to stay, of course, but they were usually very rude about it. They'd also begged for her to help them move on after a few days or so. It was rare that a mortal could cope with more than a few days of not being able to be seen by anyone except the restless dead. Some of them had even gone mad trying to escape the shambling horrors.
Jamie had ticked her off a little, but a woman her age really should know better. Besides, he wouldn't be half as cool and collected after his first sight of one of them. They could be onto him right this minute.
Death rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and yawned widely. She was getting as sentimental as her younger brother. After all, it was just one mortal. She might drop by when she had the time, but for now, sleep beckoned. Death slid off her couch and traipsed up the stairs to her bedroom, putting Jamie Keane out of her mind.
Death spent the next few months hard at work, walking around the universe and doing her job. She had a nasty few days dealing with an entire civilization which had nuked themselves to death, severely testing her patience and self-imposed rule not to pass moral judgments on the beings she took. Still, it was hard not to give their leaders a piece of her mind as she unceremoniously crossed them over, with none of her usual affability.
Then she had a tough time with a tribe of talkative creatures which had starved to death, and who wouldn't shut up when she appeared. She couldn't get a word in edgewise and had to use sign language to get them to understand her. All things considered, it was something of a relief to swing by Earth again. She went from continent to continent, collecting her toll. Almost absent-mindedly, she headed for New York once more.