By
“Choose your words
carefully. Your next sentence will be your last.”
Who had spoken? Denton
frantically searched the room, floor to ceiling, looking for the source of the
booming voice. Only he and his wife occupied the private room and his beloved hadn’t uttered a word.
Odd that he didn’t question
the voice’s accuracy. Or his own sanity. He simply believed.
The pressure of choosing
the right words made him clammy. He swiped at his brow, sending his arm
straight through his head. Damn.
No.
Did he say that aloud?
His wife scurried to his
side and screamed for a nurse. He wanted to reassure his darling, but he
clamped his teeth together to keep from talking. If he could speak only one
more sentence, he didn't want, “I'm okay,” to be his final epitaph.
He suspected he hovered
near death’s trapdoor—even before the booming voice issued “last call.” He was
standing by the bed watching doctors work on his
quaking body. That pretty much guaranteed his life meter had expired.
He needed to say goodbye to
Maddie. He lifted his arms toward his honey. The arms on the bed also reached
upward, freaking Denton and sending both sets of his elbows flailing. At the
same time, a couple of burly, white-coated men grabbed Maddie and pulled her
from the room. A medical team scampered, bumping into each other like rats
in a scavenger hunt.
The scene might have been
humorous, but Denton couldn’t find anything funny about his own death. Worse,
the defibrillator packed a mean zap.
A movement distracted him
from his medical emergency and he became aware of a big blob standing next to
him. He jumped three-feet off the floor…and kept floating. “Jeeesus!”
“Nope, wrong guy.”
It looked like a man, but
Denton couldn't be sure because shadows surrounded the thing’s body. Whatever
it was, it wasn’t human.
“I'm dying, aren't I?” Fearing
he’d used his last sentence, he gasped. “I didn’t just use my last words, did
I? Shit, I didn’t get to say my piece.”
“Relax, Dude. You still get
your oratory farewell, but please spare me the soap-box clichés.” The voice
wasn’t loud, but it seemed to bellow. “I’ll get rid of the white coats and get
the pretty little lady back in here, but don’t dally. Speak your sentence,
already.”
Denton winced, not certain if
the creature’s goading or another blast from the defibrillator tightened his
cheeks. And he didn’t mean his face.
Stiffening, he stared at
the sumo-wrestler shaped blob. “Who are you? My guardian angel?” Comprehension
sucked the air from his deflated lungs and he squeaked like Richard Simmons,
“Wait! I don’t see the light and you’re all gray. Am I going to hell?”
“You're not going to hell.
Course you're not going to heaven either. You’ve got a truckload of transitions
before your destination is finalized.” The creature chuckled. “And believe me,
I’m no guardian angel, but that’s a good one. It’s been a long time since a
stiff in the on-deck circle tickled my skeleton.”
“Who are you?”
“Call me Nate. I’ll be
escortin’ you to your next state of being.”
“Next
state of being? I’m being reincarnated?”
“No way. If folks were reincarnated, you’d be a fish by
now, given the booze you’ve consumed in your life.” The creature chuckled, far
too amused at his own humor.
Denton balled his fist. A
doctor noticed his altered grip and put down the defibrillator.
“He's back. I have
movement!” The speaker sounded hazy and distant.
Denton’s
mouth gaped, mirroring the state of his hospital gown. He glared at Nate. “Hey,
shouldn't I be floating above my body instead of standing here talking to you? Don't
I get any of the perks of dying?”
Nate chuckled again. “Can't
tell you how refreshing it is to get a sarcastic S.O.B. I get so many whiners
lately.”
The creature’s shadow
shrunk vertically and widened horizontally. Had the creature sat down?
“Hurry up with those words,
Denton. You’re late for retribution.”
“Retribution? You mean like retribution to Native
Americans?”
“You don't get retribution,
funny man, you make it. It’s kind of like time-out for grown-ups.” Nate
chortled. “I crack myself up.”
“You don't get out much, do
you?”
“You mean out of body?” The
creature grabbed his belly and shadows shook in cadence with his laughter.
He
really didn’t get out much.
“Watch yourself, Sonny, I
can hear your thoughts.”
“Eh, sorry. But, hey. I was
a decent guy. What’s this retribution shit?” Denton covered his mouth, the
action sending doctors scurrying around the elevated bed. “Damn, I swore again.
That’s bad, huh?”
“Sonny, let go of them
earth rules. I don't care if you swear, just don't use the ‘sin’ word. I’m sick
of that word. Let me tell you something you should have already learned. There
are only two rules: Don't harm other creatures and be content.”
“Don't harm creatures? Damn,
that pretty much covers everything, doesn't it?”
“Yep, you humans pretty
much screw up everything. Wrong and right are pretty simple in their simplest
form. But let’s take a look. You know, you’re lucky you got me instead of one
of the other Transition-ers. Most of them don't appreciate humor.”
Nate lifted a clipboard and
studied it. “Hmmm. Your ‘Hurting Creatures’ column is not bad, but you pretty
much sucked in the ‘Contentment’ column.”
He’d intended to ask what a
Transition-er was or did, but that no longer mattered. “What? I was content.”
“Um-hum.” Nate shook his
blob of a head.
Denton sucked in air. The
body on the bed wheezed. The doctors resumed their frantic action. “Exactly
what do you mean by ‘Contentment’ column?”
“Contentment is
self-explanatory. You didn’t seem dumb before?”
“I wasn't discontent.”
“Yeah,
right. One hour ago, you were annoyed because lunch was taking too long. Last
week you thought your car was too old—it’s a Porsche for mercy’s sake. You were
never content with your job, your golf game, or your sex life. Need I go on?”
“Wait a minute. There’s a
difference between wanting more and not being content. Is wanting a better life
a sin?” Shit. He’d uttered the sin word. “I mean, is wanting a better
life wrong? That doesn’t seem right.”
“Wrong doesn’t seem right. Another
good one, Dent.”
He was really glad the creature
found his impending demise so damn amusing. “It’s not fair.”
“Not fair?” Nate spat and
little black flakes floated around the room. “What you humans basically mean by
fair is—if it ain't going my way it ain’t fair.”
Denton tried to shake his
head, but if felt too heavy. At least death wasn't the end he’d expected and he
didn’t see a fiery pit. His fear dissipated. “Why is wanting a better life
wrong?”
“Wanting is not wrong, not
savoring what you've been given is the crime. For example, your golf handicap
is, eh, I mean was, a ten, but you never relished your game.”
“So those zombies who go
through life with a smile on their face are right and the rest of us are
wrong?”
“You mean were wrong,
but, yep, pretty much. You see, life isn't, about leaving your mark or making
the world a better place. The world and its life forms are pretty amazing
without human intervention. It’s rather arrogant of you morons to think you can
improve upon the master plan, don’t you think?”
The analogy actually made
sense. “But people like me must fare better than bankrobbers and axe murderers.
Doesn’t it help that I tried to be a good guy?”
“Sure it does, so don't get
your boxers in a wad. Although you're not wearing any shorts, are ye?” Nate slapped at what would have been a knee
and his shadows parted. He stopped chortling and frowned. “That's the worst
part of this phase. You can't get a decent knee slap.”
An orderly ushered Denton’s
wife back into the room. Maddie looked like a ghost.
Nate whispered, “That’s all
folks. Get on with your sentence, Dent, and get the last…right. Get it—last
rite?”
Denton ignored the deadly
humor and gazed at his wife. He had been content with her—she
represented the one thing he’d gotten right.
“Yep, you struck gold with
her.” Nate had apparently read his mind again. “Funny, but she thought she was the lucky one.
Your marital contentment saved you a lot of years in retribution.”
“If I had more time, I'd
show her. I’d be content with everything. I don't suppose there's any chance…”
“You're a cheeky bastard. Pun
intended.” Nate gurgled. “But, I’m in a good mood and you’ve made me laugh. Tell
you what—there’s one sentence you can articulate that will buy you more time in
this life. Say the right thing, and I’ll let you live a while longer.”
The room grew brighter and
Nate disappeared. Denton’s form merged with the body in the bed. The
excruciating pain lessened as he looked into his wife’s eyes. He didn't need to
think about what he would say. He gestured for her to come closer.
“I love you.” He touched
her face and smiled at the source of his contentment.
Stars flashed and Denton
heard a loud buzz. He watched the room, and his wife, move farther and farther
away. Without him.
Nate materialized, shaking
his blob of a head. “Another sugary cliché—sweet, but no cigar. Let's get you
started on your Retribution.”
Denton supposed it really
didn’t matter. “At least tell me what I could have said to prolong my days.”
“You disappoint me, Denton.
I thought a smart fellow like you would deduce the right words. Didn't I keep
harping on simplicity?”
“Well?”
“You should’ve said, ‘I
want to live.’”
Denton took a final look at
his grieving wife, regretting her pain, but feeling peace. He might be dead. He
might not have spoken the words Nate wanted, but…
He’d said the right thing.
The
End
