Chapter 1: The Souls

We were all the same, but we had died differently.

Tom called it the second revolt.  Poppy said it was a war.  Anthony labeled it God’s second gift, but that kid was so positive he could eat a Christmas cracker and shit confetti.  I stood somewhere in the middle, knowing that a label didn’t change a lily into a poppy seed.  

God had either left or been killed.  The Devil had gone with him.  What remained now was a ruined place, filled with wandering souls, and empty thrones.

We were all one of those souls.  Each one of us with grey skin, empty eye sockets, and a skirt made from the hair ripped from our scalps.  The way it matted together into a smooth black sheet made it look beautiful against our tarnished flesh.  

There were no men or women here.  Although our memories of Earth stuck around like a bad dream.  It might have been bearable without the thoughts of loved ones and a life spent wishing for better.  Many of my decisions had been based on being a good person.  

Until I couldn't take my stepfather's open palm anymore and decided to fight back.  

Now that I was here, I might have chosen to simply run away from home.

Instead, I made the mistake of being violent.  The man drove a screwdriver into my chest twelve times.  I had only done it to him once.  But you couldn’t undo the past, and so I tried to understand this world.  It too could be a nasty place.  

The plains of this world stretched as far as the eye could see, and in the distance, there were mountains jutting up from the ground like Dragon’s teeth.  Storm clouds rolled above the peaks, rumbling with thunder and crackling with lightning.

If you stood on the tips of your toes, the mountains and the sky merged. All of which made sense in a messed up way.  Either the war had ruined this place, or heaven and hell had joined into something that fucked with your sensibilities.

Sometimes we would stand on a ridge or climb to the top of a ruined castle and open our mouths when the storm drifted overhead.  The rain never came.  But you could watch the rims of a fellow soul’s eye sockets light up.  You would know then, that somewhere behind those dark clouds light still beamed.

Anthony, the optimist of our group of four, would stare at us and lick his lips. He would say,  “Holy shit, I got some rain! I got some rain!”

There was nothing that could make the insides of our throats feel any less like broken glass.  Thoughts were all we had.  We nodded our heads, cursed our luck, and talked about how we would catch the rain next time.  Then we would walk the plains again.

The more we walked, the more souls we passed lying in the dirt.  They had given up.  That didn’t mean they were dead, only that they had accepted their fate.  Poppy asked me if there was a difference.   

I asked one, “What have you got to lose now?”

He looked up wide-eyed.  “Everything.”  

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I asked another.  It screamed something we didn't understand. 

We had walked quieter after that.  Until Tom broke the silence.  

“You ever wonder what it’s like to be dead but not die?”  

No one knew what to say to that.  

Tom answered his own question.  “I think it would be a lot like not moving.”

He was a mathematician back on Earth.  That meant that he knew we had been walking for seven days, one hundred and sixty-eight hours, or 10080 minutes, as well as we knew how to breathe.  He also had a talent for answering his own questions.    

Poppy had been in junior high.  Anthony like me had just started university.  And as students, we had all the questions, but none of the answers.  

I didn’t need to be a mathematician to tell you that we rarely talked during the seven.  Dying made you quiet.  No one wanted to talk about how it had happened.  And whatever words we had left, heaven and hell took and mushed under the stinking feet of hopelessness.  

But I tried to keep positive.  I swear I tried for Poppy's sake.

“Not too long now,” I would say.

It was strange talking like that to the body of a grey man, a body just like mine.  But I knew that the consciousness inside was that of a twelve-year-old girl.  

"My legs are tired," Poppy said.  

Tom craned his neck toward the peaks.  “Three hours give or take.”

“Good. It’ll be over before we know it."  Anthony gave everyone a smile, but it only made his face look scarier.  

We walked on with nothing but the thud of our heels and the rumble in the distance.

“You really think it's real?” Poppy asked.  

She’d asked this question often since the second day.  We only walked this path because the older souls told us this was the way to go.  

“It exists,” I said. "I'd bet my life on it."

That phrase had lost its kick since dying.  It was an old habit more than anything.  The group didn't draw attention to that fact.  We just kept walking.  

An old soul had called the place we were headed to the ‘Sovereign Cathedra’, they’d called the other one ‘Death’s Flush’.  

They were the names of two thrones, one which had appeared for a God to claim and another that waited for a new Devil.  No one had taken the seats yet.   The reason remained beyond the peaks.   

“Find the thrones and save God,” Anthony said.  “We can do it.”  

I had a soft spot for him.  He was a little strange, but he kept us going.  Each thought went into his mind shitty and popped back out a golden nugget.  

“Not long now,” I told him.

He smiled at that and walked a little faster.  I hated when he smiled.    

An old area of castle ruins came into view as we trekked over a hill.  They were all over the place.  Something moved at the center.  

A group of white souls surrounded a group of three greys.  It was three on six.  They would kill them.

In this world, you didn’t have weapons or growing strength.  You had numbers, and three beats six, it was that simple.

Grey souls were innocents, who were brought here and tried to understand their fate.  We remained grey because we only wanted answers.  The white souls were the ones who had gotten bored and looked for entertainment.  

They were cannibals.

“The ruins, now!” I said, running downhill.  "We need to help them!"     

The others cursed and then followed.  I pushed the weak limbs of this body to their limit.  The white souls closed in around the greys.  

We were too far when the first white threw a punch.  They dropped the grey in one hit.  

That’s when I knew there wouldn’t be talking.   

“Fight,” I told the group. "Make them stop!"

I balled my fist and ran at a white soul.