Home > Under the Whispering Door(6)

Under the Whispering Door(6)
Author: TJ Klune

She smiled and arched an eyebrow.

Wallace struggled to find his voice. “You … you can see me?”

She nodded as she turned in her own pew, resting her elbow on the back. “I can.”

He began to tremble, his hands gripping the pew so hard, he thought his fingers would snap. “How. What. I don’t—what.”

“I know you’re confused, Wallace, and things can be—”

“I never told you my name!” he said shrilly, unable to stop his voice from cracking.

She snorted. “There’s literally a sign with your picture on it below your name in the front of the church.”

“That’s not…” What? What wasn’t it exactly? He pulled himself upright. His legs weren’t quite working as he wanted them to. “Forget the damn sign. How is this happening? What the hell is going on?”

The woman smiled. “You’re dead.”

He burst out laughing. Yes, he could see his body in a casket, but that didn’t mean anything. There had to be some mistake. He stopped laughing when he realized the woman wasn’t joining in. “What,” he said flatly.

“Dead, Wallace.” Her face scrunched up. “Hold on. Trying to remember what the cause was. This is my first time, and I’m a little nervous.” She brightened. “Oh, that’s right! Heart attack.”

And that was how he knew this wasn’t real. A heart attack? Bullshit. He never smoked, he ate as best he could, and he exercised when he remembered. His last physical had ended with the doctor telling him that while his blood pressure was a little high, everything else seemed to be in working order. He couldn’t be dead from a heart attack. It wasn’t possible. He told her as much, sure that’d be the end of it.

“Riiiight,” she repeated slowly, as if he were the idiot. “Hate to be a bummer, man, but that’s what happened.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I would know if I … I would have felt…” Felt what? Pain in his arm? The stuttering in his chest? The way he couldn’t quite catch his breath no matter how hard he tried?

She shrugged. “I suppose it’s one of those things.” He flinched when she stood from the pew, making her way over to him. She was shorter than he expected, the top of her head probably coming up to his chin. He backed away from her as best he could, but he didn’t get far.

Naomi was ranting about a trip to the Poconos they’d apparently taken (“He stayed in the hotel room the entire time on conference calls! It was our honeymoon!”) as the woman sat on his pew, keeping a bit of distance between them. She appeared even younger than he first thought—perhaps early to mid-twenties—which somehow made things worse. Her complexion was slightly darker than his own, lips pulled back over small teeth in the hint of a smile. She tapped her fingers on the back of the pew before looking at him. “Wallace Price,” she said. “My name is Meiying, but you can call me Mei, like the month, only spelled a little different. I’m here to bring you home.”

He stared at her, unable to speak.

“Huh. Didn’t know that’d shut you up. Should’ve tried that to begin with.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know you.”

“I should hope not,” she said. “If you did, it’d be very weird.” She paused, considering. “Weirder, at least.” She nodded toward the front of the church. “Nice casket, by the way. Doesn’t look cheap.”

He bristled. “It isn’t. Only the very best for—”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Mei said. “Still. Pretty gnarly, right? Looking at your own body like that. Not a bad body, though. Little skinny for my tastes, but to each their own.”

He bristled. “I’ll have you know that I did just fine with my skinny—no. I won’t be distracted! I demand you tell me what’s going on right this second.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I can do that. I know this may be hard to understand, but your heart gave out, and you died. There was an autopsy, and it turned out you had blockages in your coronary arteries. I can show you the Y incision, if you want, though I’d advise against it. It’s pretty gross. Did you know that once they perform the autopsy, they sometimes put the organs back inside in a bag along with sawdust before they close you up?” She brightened. “Oh, and I’m your Reaper, here to take you where you belong.” And then, as if the moment wasn’t strange enough, she made jazz hands. “Ta-da.”

“Reaper,” he said in a daze. “What is … that?”

“Me,” she said, scooting closer. “I’m a Reaper. Once someone dies, there’s confusion. You don’t really know what’s going on, and you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” This was a lie. He’d never been more frightened in his life.

“Okay,” she said. “So you’re not scared. That’s good. Regardless, it’s a trying time for anyone. You need help to make the transition. That’s where I come in. I’m here to make sure said transition goes as smoothly as possible.” She paused. Then, “That’s it. I think I remembered to say everything. I had to memorize a lot to get this job, and I might have forgotten a detail here and there, but that’s the gist of it.”

He gaped at her. He barely heard Naomi yelling in the background, calling him a selfish bastard with absolutely no self-awareness. “Transition.”

Mei nodded.

He didn’t like the sound of that. “To what?”

She grinned. “Oh, man. Just you wait.” She raised her hand toward him, turning her palm up. She pressed her thumb and middle fingers together and snapped.

The cool, spring sun was shining down on his face.

He took a stumbling step back, looking around wildly.

Cemetery. They were in a cemetery.

“Sorry about that,” Mei said, appearing beside him. “Still getting the hang of it.” She frowned. “I’m sort of new at this.”

“What’s happening!” he shrieked at her.

“You’re getting buried,” she said cheerily. “Come on. You’ll want to see this. It’ll help dispel any doubts you might have left.” She grabbed him by the arm and pulled. He tripped over his own feet but managed to stay upright. His flip-flops slapped against his heels as he struggled to keep up. They weaved in and out of headstones, the sounds of busy traffic surrounding them as impatient cabbies honked their horns and shouted expletives out open windows. He tried to pull away from Mei, but her grip was tight. She was stronger than she looked.

“Here we are,” she said, coming to a stop. “Right on time.”

He peered over her shoulder. Naomi was there, as were the partners, all standing around a freshly dug rectangular hole. The expensive coffin was being lowered into the earth. No one was crying. Worthington kept looking at his watch and sighing dramatically. Naomi was tapping away on her phone.

Of all the things for Wallace to focus on, he was dumbstruck by the fact that there was no headstone. “Where’s the marker? My name. Date of birth. An inspirational message saying I lived life to the fullest.”

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