Chapter Two: My Life HereAfter by Rosaline Saul
I stand with Charlene, Mark, Lionel, Rudi, and Carly in the
quad of grey.
The cement slabs beneath our feet are grey, and the walls
surrounding us are the same dreary shade of colour.
The large group thins out slowly and somehow my group ends
up being the last to be called.
This seems to be like an entrance to the other side. None of
the other kids who have gone into the building before us, called by name from a
huge register, by a burly woman with forearms almost as big as the man’s we saw
earlier in the hall, have come back out on this side.
The grey walls surrounding us are high, and we cannot see
what is happening on the other side.
Once again, I tell myself this is like a railway station,
but here people only arrive, they never depart.
The woman in the white caftan dress with the muscular arms
appears in the doorway of the entrance to the reception room. She looks down at
her register, and then she calls out our names one by one.
She turns and we follow her into the building. If I had to
be polite, I would say the décor is minimalistic. Once again, white tiles cover
every surface and the white is overwhelming.
A mangled, wobbly wooden table stands in a corner with piles
and piles of paperwork. Whoever does the filing has neglected his or her duties
for a while, or otherwise, they are just terribly busy. I have to smirk at my
internal humour, the little fellow who sits on my right shoulder, whispering
inane sarcastic innuendos in my ear throughout my days and sometimes gets me
into a heap of trouble.
In single file, one at a time, we walk through what looks
like a metal detector, similar to those a person will find at the airport. I
wonder if a person would be able to bring earthly possessions here. I am still
wearing the same baby doll shirt and faded jeans I put on this morning after I
woke up, but if I had, for instance, a knife in my pocket, would it still be in
there? To test my theory, I push my hand into my pocket to feel if my iPod is
there and pull my hand out empty. I suppose not. Earthly possessions are just
what they are – earthly.
After I walk through the metal detector looking device, the
burly woman calls me back. I frown and look at her questioningly, while she
says, “I need you to walk through again.”
My frown deepens, but she is a scary looking woman, and as
it is, I do not know where I specifically am. I know without a doubt I am dead,
so I am obliging.
I see her look at the screen in front of her perplexed. She
turns her back to me and looks at the dainty woman behind a thick, plastic windowpane.
I see the small woman frown and her lips move, but I cannot hear a word she is
saying. The window is muffling the sound. The thick, burly woman who is
standing a mere few inches away from me nods her head in agreement as if she
has heard every word and then as she turns to me. She nods her head and angles
her neck to my group of friends, which I assume means I can join my group.
The woman then ushers us out the door on the other side of
the building.
A person would expect to see winged chariots soaring around
in the sky, crystal-clear water splashing softly, melodiously over snow-white
pebbles in little streams criss-crossing through the lush, bottle green grass under
the cerulean sky. A person would expect to see superbly crafted men and women
with marvellous wings, dazzling under the bright midday sun flying above.
However, there is none of that here. It is all just mundane. It looks normal,
as normal as an everyday on Earth. The grass is still green, and the sky is
still blue. The roads twist lazily through the landscape with grey buildings
dotting it here and there.
Once again, all sixty of the students I was on the bus with
this morning are standing in a group in front of the reception building. The
reception building is on a hill, and the view goes on ceaselessly. There is no
horizon.
A pretty girl is standing at the edge of the large group and
she smiles at us kindly. Slowly, one-by-one we stop talking. I look at the girl
and I notice she is radiantly beautiful, with golden flax locks and intense
blue eyes. She is not like the man and the woman we encountered before her, she
is petite, and her arms are normal looking.
When every student is silent, she says in a resonating
voice, “Good. I am going to call out your name, and you are going to step
toward that oak tree there. There will be forty names in all, so please be patient
until I call your name. For those of you, whose name I do not call, please
remain standing where you are.” She does not hesitate and starts to call out
names.
I hold onto Charlene’s arm tightly. I honestly did not want
the list to separate us. I hold my breath as the group under the oak tree grows
and grows. I count nervously as each name is called out, hoping, and wishing
neither Charlene’s or my name is called, and if either one of our names is
called, that soon after the other’s name is also called.
At the count of forty, she finally brings her list of names
down from in front of her face and I sigh relieved.
I look around me to Carly, Lionel, Mark and lastly, Charlene.
From our original group of six, only Rudi was called to stand in the other
group by the oak tree.
The pretty girl walks to the oak tree and I can hear her say
friendly, “You will now all proceed to climb into the vehicles behind you.”
I notice some of the naughtier students, the bullies, and
the disruptive kids resisting. Four broad-shouldered men appear, and then the
group of forty kids climbs into the vehicles standing behind them obediently.
An overweight boy, by the name of Oscar, makes a run for it.
Oscar is a nasty boy, and from when I can remember, he has ruled by fear. He
likes, especially, to hurt and humiliate the younger boys in the halls of our
school. He really is a wicked piece of work.
Two of the four strong men - sentries, I suppose, go after
him, and to be honest, I doubt he ever had a chance of running away. I bet,
after all that bullying, he is scared now of going to a place far more sinister
than what he has experienced so far this morning.
The two sentries catch Oscar and then drag him by his arms
back to the trucks. I see panic etched on Oscar’s face and he is whimpering
softly for his mother. Hard-handed the sentries push Oscar into one of the
trucks.
They close the doors and then the four trucks pull away and
I see them trail each other down the hill, following the road. My eyes follow
the slow-moving trucks down into the valley and then into a vast forest of huge
trees. The trees continue up into an opposite hill, so I am unable to see where
and when the trucks stop, if ever.
The pretty girl walks back to us and then she says
pleasantly, “Welcome. I have been chosen to be your custodian, and you may call
me Vera.”
She turns away from us and I wonder when someone will be
telling us what is going on. I know we must be dead, after the way the bus was
rolling and tumbling down the cliff, and into the river, but is this Heaven?
I wonder why we were split into two groups and why our group is smaller. I suppose, the other group was filled with lawbreakers and wrongdoers, so would it mean I have been selected to be amongst the group of worthy and good kids, and there is always more bad than good in the world.
Continue reading Chapter Three
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