Death Drives a Blue Car.
Four Passengers.
Death drove a blue car. An older model, with sun-worn paint and a crack in the passenger's side window. The radio came and went, fading in and out indiscriminately as he drove through the roads and the cities, through farmland and industrial sized parking lots. He watched them, expression unchanging as the morning flock went to work and discovered surprise at gridlock traffic. They never seemed so surprise when he wasn't far behind.
He watched them from the parking lot of the bars where the girls put on too much make-up for an effort wasted in the dim lights and the blur of alcohol around the edges. Just legal adults trying to see how much poison they could manage to ingest before their body rebelled against them in the most natural of ways. Older patrons trying for get about the life they'd wasted with a spouse they hated and a job that didn't afford happiness. Keys in hand, liquid courage pouring them to take on the world.
And generally he never got to claim them because it was the people they hit on their mission to prove competence that always seemed to get the short end of the stick. But he remembered them. Sometimes he forgot to come back for them and let them wander years past their time, wondering what had gone wrong to make it last after everyone they loved had died.
Sometimes, at hospitals, he wished he had volunteered for another job. It wasn't so much the cancer patients or the older people on their way to the rest of the journey. It was the babies and the children and the parents who didn't understand what they had done wrong. He didn't understand. He knew there was a balance to be maintained, but sometimes the balance didn't seem to make sense. He would try to linger in the hallways as long as he could, giving them the seconds they wanted, but eventually there was a deadline and someone else and he would have to go in and take them.
His car could only hold four other people at a time, being a manual. So after he had picked up four and introduced them to each other, he would explain. Today there was a beautiful sixteen year old girl who had spat out the bullet before he put her in the car. A man who had fought against Hitler was on his way to see his wife, who had laid in the ground a month before. Then there was the couple that drunk driver had hit outside of town last night. They were worried about their toddler, who had been staying with his grandparents while they went on their monthly date.
They were all dead and they were his responsibility to ferry to the other side. He wanted to tell them it would be beautiful and everything they wanted, but he wasn't allowed. They would know soon enough and he would be filled with the fleeting bitter jealousy he always was.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he began, the way he had been trained. "I'm here to take you beyond. I'm not allowed to answer your questions about anything that has or will occur, but I am here to make the passage easier for you in any way I can." He started the ignition and they started out of town.
Sometimes they screamed at him and begged for answers, generally of what had happened to someone they had been with or where they were going. Sometimes people thought they were going the other way and begged him to stop the car. Crying would happen, of course. Some people, like the man, were quiet and patient. Generally older people or those who had time to prepare themselves. The young girl with cancer last month had wanted to ask him questions about his job, which had been allowed to answer, much to her delight. It had been a rare treat.
Outside the city, he took the exit that no other cars seemed to see. As they began to ascend, the natural curiosity began to overtake and his passengers gobbled up the sights with their eyes. It was beautiful, though he was numb to it by this point. Beautiful golden pink clouds spun like cotton candy as they drove up the invisible road.
The gates were not made of pearls. They were black -wrought iron and you could clearly see the Victorian mansion behind it. It always surprised them when it was a darker green color. "That's the Welcome House," he told them, unlocking the doors. "Someone will greet you and take you inside. I hope your trip was satisfactory."
The girl looked back at him once and he knew what she was thinking, but he just put the car in drive and continued on. He had more stops today.
He watched them from the parking lot of the bars where the girls put on too much make-up for an effort wasted in the dim lights and the blur of alcohol around the edges. Just legal adults trying to see how much poison they could manage to ingest before their body rebelled against them in the most natural of ways. Older patrons trying for get about the life they'd wasted with a spouse they hated and a job that didn't afford happiness. Keys in hand, liquid courage pouring them to take on the world.
And generally he never got to claim them because it was the people they hit on their mission to prove competence that always seemed to get the short end of the stick. But he remembered them. Sometimes he forgot to come back for them and let them wander years past their time, wondering what had gone wrong to make it last after everyone they loved had died.
Sometimes, at hospitals, he wished he had volunteered for another job. It wasn't so much the cancer patients or the older people on their way to the rest of the journey. It was the babies and the children and the parents who didn't understand what they had done wrong. He didn't understand. He knew there was a balance to be maintained, but sometimes the balance didn't seem to make sense. He would try to linger in the hallways as long as he could, giving them the seconds they wanted, but eventually there was a deadline and someone else and he would have to go in and take them.
His car could only hold four other people at a time, being a manual. So after he had picked up four and introduced them to each other, he would explain. Today there was a beautiful sixteen year old girl who had spat out the bullet before he put her in the car. A man who had fought against Hitler was on his way to see his wife, who had laid in the ground a month before. Then there was the couple that drunk driver had hit outside of town last night. They were worried about their toddler, who had been staying with his grandparents while they went on their monthly date.
They were all dead and they were his responsibility to ferry to the other side. He wanted to tell them it would be beautiful and everything they wanted, but he wasn't allowed. They would know soon enough and he would be filled with the fleeting bitter jealousy he always was.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he began, the way he had been trained. "I'm here to take you beyond. I'm not allowed to answer your questions about anything that has or will occur, but I am here to make the passage easier for you in any way I can." He started the ignition and they started out of town.
Sometimes they screamed at him and begged for answers, generally of what had happened to someone they had been with or where they were going. Sometimes people thought they were going the other way and begged him to stop the car. Crying would happen, of course. Some people, like the man, were quiet and patient. Generally older people or those who had time to prepare themselves. The young girl with cancer last month had wanted to ask him questions about his job, which had been allowed to answer, much to her delight. It had been a rare treat.
Outside the city, he took the exit that no other cars seemed to see. As they began to ascend, the natural curiosity began to overtake and his passengers gobbled up the sights with their eyes. It was beautiful, though he was numb to it by this point. Beautiful golden pink clouds spun like cotton candy as they drove up the invisible road.
The gates were not made of pearls. They were black -wrought iron and you could clearly see the Victorian mansion behind it. It always surprised them when it was a darker green color. "That's the Welcome House," he told them, unlocking the doors. "Someone will greet you and take you inside. I hope your trip was satisfactory."
The girl looked back at him once and he knew what she was thinking, but he just put the car in drive and continued on. He had more stops today.