The Afterlife by Lianna Salva (i can read book club .TXT) 📖

The Afterlife

“Hello?...Hello?! Is anyone there?”
Through the fog, he saw a line of doors. Some red, some blue, some large, some small. There was one that was old with a cobwebbed, brass knocker in the middle and one that was metal and shiny. Then, along the endless row, he came to a door that was as tall and as wide as he was. Actually, it looked exactly like the door to his apartment. There was a number on the door.
“417,” he read aloud, “I wonder what that means.” If he would have known any better, it would just be an average address number, but that wasn’t the number on his apartment door. He looked around at all the other doors; they all had numbers on them too. Why did he stop at this one? Staring at door number 417 for another minute or so, he turned the handle and pushed the door open. On the other side of the door was a woman, staring right at the spot where he appeared, like she was waiting for him.
“Hello, George.” she said, quite calmly and with a smile.
“What is this place?”
“I’m sorry George, but you had an accident. It was quite sudden, very instant, but it appears as though you didn’t experience any pain.”
“What are you talking about? What accident? Tell me where I am!” George was getting slightly hysterical now.
“You’re dead George. Welcome to the afterlife.”
George stared at the mysterious woman in disbelief. How could he be dead?! He had never taken any dangerous risks, had no deadly diseases that he knew about. But then this woman had spoke of an accident.
Not sure if he wanted to know the answer, he asked slowly, “What accident? How did I...die?”
“It was a car crash. Very common and not very exciting I’m afraid, but it’s the truth. I’ve been waiting to meet you officially for a long time.”
“You mean you wanted me to die?”
“Of course not. But we were only children when we first met and seeing as how we were in a hospital, we couldn’t really play together, what with your broken arm and my illness. But I always wondered what you were like.”
He remembered. When George was nine, he had broken his arm while riding his bike. There was a small girl in the bed next to him, about six or seven years old. She was pale and sickly, but had a nice smile.
“You died? From...leukemia right? I’m sorry. But if you died when you were a child, why do you look the way you do now?”
She was tall and slender, with dark brown hair that was tied back loosely. Her simple white dress had a red ribbon at the waist. She looked very normal for being in such an odd place, but still very pretty. The only thing that George thought odd about her was that she was barefoot.
“I never got the opportunity to grow up, so when I got here, I imagined myself older, and it happened. Now, I’m sorry for rushing you, but if you have no more questions we really must be going.”
With that, she turned and started walking into the distance.
“Wait! I never got your name!”
“It’s Lucy!” she called back. “Hurry up!”
And without another word, George raced after her.

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Looking around, all George could see was white space with a light fog near the ground. It was odd; there was no noise, no people, not even a definable temperature. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t cool, the air was just there. The place was a void, peaceful but slightly unnerving. Lucy walked in front of him, not speaking and not breaking her fast and steady pace.
Only to break the eery silence, George asked her, “So, where exactly am I? I thought Heaven was supposed to have a golden gate with angels telling you if you made it in or not.”
She laughed. It was a very sweet laugh, like the wind chimes hanging on the porch of his childhood home. “Sorry to say, this isn’t Heaven,” she said.
“Oh...so, I’m in...” George mumbled, his eyes wide with worry. Of course

, George thought, if this is Hell, it doesn’t seem that bad, to say the truth.

“No, you’re not there either.” There was a smile in her voice. “No, this place isn’t really even a place. It doesn’t have a name, no end or beginning. It’s nowhere and everywhere all at once.”
George’s head was buzzing. What in the world was she talking about? He decided not to ask anymore questions, partly because he was afraid of an answer and partly because he figured he would find out soon enough. All of a sudden, Lucy stopped. Lost in his subconscious, George almost ran into her. They were both silent for what felt like, in George’s mind, was forever but in all reality, it was probably about two minutes.
“Hm. I guess we’re early.”
She leaned up against what George now saw was a tall post of signs, with arrows pointing in different directions. One sign pointed left, saying that that was the way one should go to get to number 385. One sign pointed in the opposite direction to number 113. As George read the last of the signs, he realized the numbers had changed; all the signs were different. Right before his eyes, the numbers started to flip and spin. It looked like the same system as a slot machine.
“What do these numbers mean? When I came through the door, the number 417 was on it. I’m not sure why I chose it.” He said the last sentence slowly, as if lost in his own questions.
“I don’t think I’m the right person to tell you that.”
“And what can you tell me?’ He was starting to get angry now. He wanted answers and wanted them now. He had been patient, accepting of his fate. His patience was growing thin.
“Well, I have told you all that I can, for now that is. You first have to meet Damian, he can explain everything you need to know.” Although she was still calm, there was a slight change in her voice when she said Damian’s name, almost like it was cursed.
“Ok. So when this Damian shows up, what will happen to you?” He didn’t want her to leave, even if she was being secretive.
“Oh, I’ll be waiting right here. Once Damian has had his turn, it will then be mine to explain what happens to you next.” She looked a little nervous when she said, “ No matter what Damian says to you, don’t feel like it’s your only choice. Remember that I’m waiting for you.”
She seemed protective in these last few moments. George was about to ask what she meant by “only choice” but was interrupted by the sound of far off but clear foot steps coming towards them. Lucy stood up straight, staring intensely at the spot where Damian would soon enter.
He was tall, thin, and had an almost urban appearance. He wore torn jeans with a dress shirt and jacket. He was not barefoot, like Lucy, but had ragged tennis shoes. His dark, curly hair was shocking against his pale skin. He smiled, but it was not, George felt, a friendly gesture.
“Lucy, how nice to see you again.” His voice was saturated with a fake politeness. George was reminded of the young intern at the office who would probably kill anyone who got in his way of making a good impression in front of the boss.
“George, this is Damian. He’ll show you the rest of the way.” Once again, there was something off in her voice. George felt skeptical of going with Damian, but was so curious for answers that he didn’t have a choice.
George looked at Lucy for reassurance before walking away with Damian. As he passed her, she whispered, “Don’t forget” in a voice so small that only he could hear.

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Damian led the way, fists inside his pockets, not showing any signs of starting a conversation. George wondered how far they were going to walk and where they were walking to, but didn’t ask these questions out loud. They both walked, one in front of the other, in silence. After a while, they came to what looked like an office, but there was not a door or any walls. It was simply a large, mahogany desk with a leather chair behind it, a file cabinet, and a large, full bookshelf. Damian walked to the bookshelf, picked a book at random, and started to read while sitting behind the desk. George stared at him in amazement. Wasn’t this the guy who had all the answers?
George took the book from Damian’s hands and set it on the desk. Damian looked up at him and sighed.
“So, what do you want to know?” Damian said, annoyance in his voice. He was obviously tired of his job.
“Whatever you can tell me,” said George. His voice was as calm as Lucy’s, but his face was stern; though he looked the part, he was far from confident.
Damian stared at him, a quick look of shock on his face before going back to his fake smile. He laughed softly and said, “Well, I have to admit, after the many, many years I have had this position, I have never heard that answer before. Usually, the only thing people want to know is why and how they died.”
George kept his serious pose. “I’m not concerned on why I’m here. And I already know how I died. I do want to know what the numbers mean. More importantly, I want you to tell me what happens to me after this.”
“Well, you get right to the point, don’t you. That’s good, because I don’t like people who are panicky and I hate criers.” He got up then, walked over to the file cabinet and started to search through all the papers inside. He finally pulled out a thin file with the number 417 written on the tab, opened it, and started to read.
“Number 417. Name, George Thomas Downey. Age, 35. Place of residence, Albuquerque, New Mexico, U.S... Does this sound correct to you?” George nodded. Damian continued, “Mr. Downey, being number 417, is in need of stability and ambition through which he will obtain knowledge. Well, there you have it.” Damian looked up and smiled, like he had accomplished something. But George was still confused.
“What does that mean?” George asked. What did it mean to be stable and have ambition.