Heaven

by Mur Lafferty

* * *

The Afterlife Series I

Heaven, The Afterlife Series I

Copyright © 2011 Mur Lafferty

Creative Commons BY-NC-ND

Published by Restless Brain Media on Smashwords

This is a work of fiction. Resemblances to persons living or dead is coincidental.

To Eric Daniels, Eric Smith, and Joe Magid.

CONTENTS

BOOK ONE: KATE

BOOK TWO: DANIEL

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

SNEAK PEEK OF HELL

THE AFTERLIFE SERIES BOOK II

BOOK ONE: KATE

Heaven must be really boring

If you think about it logically

All the angels must be snoring

Who could stand perfection for eternity?

Not me.

“Heaven Must Be Boring” ~George Hrab

BOOK ONE: KATE

CHAPTER ONE

My best friend Daniel and I died when we were twenty-four. It didn't occur to me that we could die. How many times have you heard that? We were young, healthy, in our prime, blah blah. Death was never on our minds. I’d been led to believe that your youth is the time of greatest potential, but when you’re a dead piece of meat in a crushed Toyota at twenty-three, your potential for greatness drops to zero. Truth be told, my potential for greatness had never been that high. In high school, I fit in comfortably enough with the “smart kids,” but I never won any awards or tried out for any scholarships; I just got by. In college I focused mostly on hanging with friends and pining after my best friend. I dropped out midway through my junior year.

When I visited home for the holidays, my parents ignored the white elephant of my college failure in order to craft the illusion of a happy family, but my grandmother wasn’t buying it. She was one of the few people I trusted, simply because she didn’t feed me bullshit.

Christmas afternoon, she pulled me aside. “Kate, we need to talk about this college thing.”

I rolled my eyes. “Grandma, I told you-”

She waved me silent. “When I was a young woman, President Kennedy said that we were going to go to the moon, not because it was easy, but because it was hard.” She pointed outside her window at the night sky. “Most people take the easy route. Can’t blame them. It’s easy.” Her eyes flitted toward the living room where my father was working on keeping the couch firmly planted on the floor. She’d never said a bad word against her son; but then again, she didn’t have to.

Obviously this time she was talking about me, too. I had taken the easy route since high school; going to Appalachian State University instead of University of Tennessee or Duke, then dropping out, no major declared, no stellar grades in one specific area that would set me on my path.

That night I was still shamed from dropping out, defiant and angry. I patiently nodded while Grandma Nancy made me feel worse and worse, then went out to have a beer with Daniel, my best friend, roommate, and long unrequited love.

Daniel and I had a place in Boone, NC, close to the ASU campus. I was working for a florist and Daniel had become a clerk at Belk in the Boone Mall. We were both fully entrenched in our single twenty-something lifestyle, other than actual success, death was the next-furthest thing from our minds.

Unfortunately the car crash that took my life also killed Daniel. When we died, our obituaries didn’t say, “he never got caught cheating his way to his BS degree, which he used to sell men’s clothing at Belk,” or, “she chose her college based not on building a bright future, but because she was in love with a guy who treated her like a sister.” They trumpeted how everyone liked us, how close I was to my grandma and how Daniel came from a tragic background, only to end his life tragically. They also went into great detail about our work with the local homeless shelter.

The funny thing is, Daniel only worked at the homeless shelter because his girlfriend worked there and he wanted to impress her, and the night of our death was the first time I had gone with him. The papers didn't say that, either, nor did it say how reluctant I had been to go.

What can I say? The air of the desperate has always scared the shit out of me. When I was a Girl Scout (which the papers mentioned) I cried when we took Halloween candy to a nursing home to brighten the residents' day (which they did not). Uncomfortable with the stale smell and the toothless grins, the dingy nightgowns and the hopeless vacant looks, I trailed behind the girls in my troop. I peeked into an open door and saw an ancient man struggle to get out of bed. His hospital gown hung open at the back, and I could see his spindly legs, his sexless, nonexistent butt, and his bony back. I was sure he would shatter if he fell. Before I could look away, he slipped and scrabbled at the bed's supports, but went down.

I screamed and ran to get a nurse, who took care of it with such calm command I wondered if she were a robot. How could anyone human not run and hide from the vision of people decaying before they’d even died?

I never told anyone this, not my grandmother, and not even Daniel. He always invited me to go to the shelter and help out with him and Kristin, but I always refused. The night of our deaths, he finally snapped.

"What is your problem?" he yelled at me. He was driving me to the library to read while he slopped soup into the trays of the hopeless or whatever it was he did. Rain poured down and I cursed my lack of planning, having nothing but a light sweater.

"I just don't like it, OK? I can't handle it!"

"Don't you even care? These people need our help. You can give it to them."

I was silent.

"You can't catch it, you know. You won't leave and find out the super has locked us out of the apartment, your teeth are loose and you have scabies."

"Oh come on. You're just there because Kristin is there. If you broke up tomorrow you wouldn't go back."

"That's bullshit. And quit blaming me for your issues. You’re just afraid."

"I never denied that, I just-"

"You 'just' don't have any empathy, that's all. Christ, Kate, sometimes I wonder if you care about anyone but yourself."

We pulled up to the curb in front of the library and stopped with a jolt.

"I'll be by to pick you up in two hours. Be ready," he said, not looking at me.

I stared at him for a moment but he never looked my way. I sighed and got out into the rain. I didn't watch him peel out, and refused to react when he splashed a large puddle onto my back.

Inside I dripped on the carpet while a librarian watched me with unease. I didn't blame her; I was soaked. You didn't want a wet sponge - nor a woman resembling one - near the books.

Daniel was wrong. It wasn't a lack of empathy, it was too much. I cared so much for these people that I was afraid I wouldn't be able to help them at all, that my work would be emptying the ocean with a bucket. I'd rather feel bad about my inability to empty the ocean while I was on dry land than drowning in the depths, so I stayed away. How can you combat poverty and old age? I wasn't a politician. I wasn't a philanthropist.

Daniel had once told me that if he could give someone a meal and a smile, then that was worth it. These people didn't have much. Therefore they didn't need much to make it better. I would bet my life that Kristin told him that. Perfect Kristin.

But that didn't mean it wasn't true.

I squelched over to the pay phone and called a cab.

CHAPTER TWO

I had expected the homeless to have colorful names like Soupbone Ike and Princess Kelly. I expected them to have stories about boxcars and pie. I expected them to be like homeless on TV, brave and cheerful.

I was wrong. They had names like Helen and Mike and Mrs. Amigone. They didn’t tell many stories. They were quiet and grateful and greeted Kristin, Daniel’s girlfriend, with a quick hello, barely acknowledging Daniel. After the initial meeting, the other workers helped me set up some tables and greet some early arrivers. Melissa, the woman in charge of the shelter, put me on kitchen duty, using my minimal cooking skills to make soup and cornbread. The evening passed quickly, my fear devoured by frantic cooking, a burn on my forearm from a cast iron skillet, and sweat.

Daniel broke me from my trance with a gentle hand on my back. “Kate. Take a break. Come sit down; you’ve been going for three hours.”

I blinked and looked at him, my neck muscles creaking. “Let me get this cornbread out of the oven and I’ll meet you outside.”

He grinned at me and left the kitchen. I put on hot pads and removed the cornbread, turning it out of the pan onto the serving platter, sliced it with the dull chef’s knife, and passed it off to Horace, the runner between the kitchen and the food line. I left the kitchen, wiping my hands on my dirty apron.

Most of our customers, as Kristin called them, had left. Daniel and Kristin sat at a table with two old men, laughing.

One of them men had a long white beard spotted with troubling stains, the other was craggy but clean shaven. Both spoke with accents I couldn’t identify.

“You don’t understand,” the one without the beard was saying. “Myths are created from journeys. Someone comes to town. Someone leaves town. There is always movement.”

Kristin shook her head. “But I watched nine hours of war, hairy feet, and crying hobbits to see them do something it would have taken those ginormous eagles only fifteen minutes to do!”

“No one would have changed,” the clean-shaven man said. “Yes, the threat would have been gone, but more happened in the story than just the ring getting thrown into the volcano. Characters grew. The rightful king came back. Those wars removed corruption. If you go the easy way out, nothing changes and nothing grows. Sauron would have been gone, but what about his armies? What about Saurumon?”

Daniel waved at me when I sat down. “Kate, this is Isaac and Mr. Big,” he said. I shook their hands, trying not to think of how dirty their hands were. “We’re just having the Lord of the Rings argument.”

“Ah,” I said, sitting down. “So you’re saying that the journey is key, not the destination.”

Isaac nodded fervently. “You know, some things are sweeter when you work harder for them.”

“I don’t know,” Kristin said, frowning.

“Eh, you’re young,” Mr. Big said. “You will learn.”

“Kate, Daniel, it was a pleasure meeting you,” Isaac said, standing up. “But my companion and I must now continue on our journey.”

Kristin flushed at the obvious slight and I wondered why the man had left her out.

Daniel didn’t seem to notice. “Are you leaving town?” he asked, standing and shaking the men’s hands.

“Yes, but I’m fairly certain we’ll see you again,” Mr. Big said. “Life is a journey, after all. Miss Kristin, it was a pleasure to meet you as well, and pardon my companion’s rudeness.” Isaac fumbled with his coat, pulling a ragged hood over his head, ignoring Mr. Big’s comment.

Kristin shrugged and smiled at him. Her smile was luminous, and I could see how she had enchanted Daniel. “Please come back if you ever need a hot meal. You know we’re here.”

He nodded. “You are indeed, Miss Kristin. Until next time, Daniel, Kate.”

We waved and watched them go out into the storm.

“’Mr. Big?’” I asked, laughing at last.

“It’s not his real name, but he said that’s what it translates to,” Daniel said.

“What language?” I asked.

“He didn’t say,” he said. He turned to Kristen, frowning. “I’m sorry they were rude to you. I don’t know what their deal was.”

She pouted a bit, but Daniel’s hug seemed to cheer her. I tried not to watch the exchange, choosing instead to bus the remaining tables.

“Kate, don’t worry about it. We’ve worked an hour past our volunteer time; other people will be in to clean up,” Kristen said.

“Do you want a ride home? I’m staying at Kristin’s tonight,” Daniel said.

“Thanks,” I said, depositing the dishes into the bus tray.

As the three of us prepared to head out into the storm, I took a deep breath and looked around the dining room, marveling; I had survived.

* * *

Kristin’s apartment was close to the homeless shelter, and she said she had to “get something ready” before Daniel came over. She giggled as she said it, and my insides clenched. We dropped her off, Daniel kissing her messily before she got out. I watched the rain fall.

“Are you going to get in the front seat, or am I going to drive Miss Daisy?” he asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

I grinned. “It’s raining like hell, and I kinda like this. Home, James!”

Daniel laughed. “You know, you were great tonight.”

“Thanks. I’m glad I did it. And it was good to spend some quality time with Kristin,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice that the latter was a blatant lie.

“Yeah, she’s great, but I don’t know. I’m not sure if it’ll last,” he said, stopping at a red light.

“How come? I thought you guys had so much in common; that it was meant to be; that she was sooo great in bed?” Daniel had never held back the gory details when he talked about his dates; I usually returned the favor by talking about my period.

“Yeah…” he trailed off.

I laughed. “You got bored with her.”

“I guess. It’s just not exciting anymore.”

“Well real love isn’t supposed to be exciting for all eternity; otherwise our parents would always be groping each other like it was prom night. Did your parents act like they were in love? ?”

Daniel’s shoulders stiffened, and I cursed myself. He didn’t like to talk about his parents, but I thought perhaps I could get an inroad here. I didn’t know much about his mom, who had died the year before he and his dad had moved to my town, back when he was still a little kid.

I stumbled and regained my footing. “Look, you’re going to have to realize that love changes, just like people do.” I tried to catch his eyes in the mirror, but he didn’t look up, so I stared out the window at the deluge. It hadn’t let up all night.

“Well, I don’t have to accept it yet,” he finally said. “I’m not ready to find ‘the one.’ I still have years and years to date.”

I laughed. “Whatever, dude.”

“So what really made you decide to come to the shelter tonight?”

“I don’t know. You were right, I guess. I was afraid. My grandma always says I need to be braver,” I said, looking at him. He grinned at me in the rearview mirror.

I smiled back at him, relieved. I loved his smile. For a moment I forgot that I was going home alone, that he was going to drop me off and then return to the dirty surprise waiting for him at his girlfriend’s. I forgot he wasn’t mine.

He glanced at the road and then looked back at me. He laughed nervously. “What? Why are you staring at me?”

And I think I would have told him. I think I was finally ready. I’d faced one fear that night, why not another? I took a deep breath.

But then Daniel swore and pulled the wheel hard to the left. Neither of us had seen the red light until it was too late. Headlights filled the interior of the car, screeches, horns, then horrible crunching sounds. It was all very slow, and at split second between the barrage of sound and the white-hot flare of pain, I reached out to Daniel, but never touched him.

Then, nothing.

CHAPTER THREE

I think everyone, on some level, is honestly confused and curious about what happens after death. Should I have expected to grow wings? Travel toward a bright light? Hear the call of beckoning relatives? Fall into a fiery pit?

The crash played over and over again. Only in retrospect did I realize this, since my awareness and emotions were the same every time: shock, fear, and then nothing. Each time it was loud, bright, and painful. I don’t know how long we went through it, again and again. Days? Years?

Then, finally, it stopped.

I awoke in a hospital. I felt fine, whole. Whatever had impaled my side was gone and I felt nothing but smooth skin underneath the hospital gown.

The room had pale yellow walls and a glazed window that let only weak light into the room and granted no view. I was not hooked to an IV stand or any monitors and had no idea why I was still in the hospital. Did my parents know about the crash? Would they tell Grandma Nancy? Was Daniel OK?

I couldn’t find the nurse’s call button, so I just got out of bed. My gown hung open at the back and I blushed, though no one was there to see.

I hadn’t been in a hospital since I was a girl; I seemed to remember it being busier. I opened the door and peeked into the hall.

Unlike the room, which had been drab but clean, the hallway showed signs of considerable neglect. A gurney with a broken wheel leaned against the wall, the dingy sheet rumpled on the floor next to it. Pale red and gray blotches stained it; I swallowed and looked away.

Dirt and dust lay on the floor half an inch deep, devoid of footprints to mark anyone’s passage. I stepped back on the clean floor in my room and closed the door. My heart thundered in my chest and I leaned against the door to quell the rush of panic. Where was everybody? I wanted to cry out, but I feared the unanswered sound echoing through the halls more than I feared being alone.

I tried to peek out the window, but the glass was so thickly glazed that I couldn’t see anything past the pale light fighting its way inside. I tried to open the window; it wouldn’t budge.

The room didn’t reveal any clues as to where I was. The bedside table, the small wardrobe, and the bathroom were all empty. I had no idea where my clothes or any other belongings were. I breathed deeply to quiet my screaming insides, but that just encouraged the panic.

I looked into the hall again, this time noticing small footprints that had made a path down the hall and around the corner. I followed at a jog, my gown flapping around me, kicking up puffs of dust.

When I turned the corner, the hospital showed more signs of life, and sanitary life at that. The well-lit hallway was nearly cheerful and a radio played pleasant 80’s soft rock in low tones – I think it was Air Supply. The hospital staff was still missing, but I was’nt alone. A small girl stood in front of a patient’s door, peering inside.

She was maybe eight, with short curly brown hair and brown eyes. I didn’t recognize her, but I did recognize what she clutched; lollipops covered in white tissues with faces drawn on them: little Halloween ghost treats. Her eyes widened as she stared into the room at something I couldn’t see. I heard a crash and a thump. The girl shrieked, dropped the little ghosts and tore down the hall away from me and around the corner.

A feeble voice called out, barely audible. I looked around, reconfirming that I was alone. I took a tentative step, but my head swam suddenly. What was I doing out of bed? This wasn’t my problem. Still, I continued to walk until I reached the room where an old man, impossibly old, lay on the floor. Crinkled folds of skin disguised his face from any semblance of youth. His arms and legs were skeletal. He floundered and thrashed on the floor, his foot flopping on the end of his right leg in a worrisome way.

The hospital gown fell open and exposed him. It was not salacious or sexual; his shriveled sex was pathetic. I backed away slowly as his cries got louder and more desperate. He didn’t see me in his struggles to right himself.

I knew I should get help. Somehow I had to find someone who could help. But then I thought, I’ll bet that’s what that little girl was going to do. It wasn’t my business. I shouldn’t exert myself; I was a patient here as well.

Where the hell was Daniel? I could imagine him and Perfect Kristin taking action, demanding my help, Kristin judging me because I stood there paralyzed, unsure of what to do.

But he wasn’t there. And the little girl wasn’t coming back. I took a a tentative step forward, and Daniel’s exasperated voice came to my ears again, “You can’t catch old age, you idiot.”

I took another step into the room. My hip twinged, and the next time I took a step it started to give out. I scratched an itch on my arm and saw it dotted with liver spots. What was wrong with me now? I took another step-limp, and the man finally saw me through runny, cloudy eyes.

“Help me,” he said.

I held my hands in front of my face. Arthritis swelled the knuckles and my nails were yellow. My heart no longer hammered; it struggled. Another step and I’d either be at his side, or I’d be dead.

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

Enjoyed this preview? ❤️ Do not stop here!

Read the complete book free online → 🔗

Continue reading now on BooksBarbecue and discover every page!

Love reading? Bookmark BooksBarbecue.com for more amazing books!

Happy Reading!