Dead Guy
Guy woke up to the blaring 8:00 am alarm which regularly kicked off his daily morning routine: Get up. Make the bed. Fill the coffee pot. Crack and cook some eggs. Toast and butter two slices of bread. Drink coffee. Eat breakfast. Pack a meal-prepped lunch. All was done in less than 30 minutes. He usually spent the remainder of the hour lavishing in a warm shower. He had read a study that claimed the length of time spent in the shower determined one’s loneliness – the longer, the lonelier. Supposedly, the calming effect of the shower consoled people who lacked companionship. Guy refused to allow himself to feel threatened by these findings. He reasoned that the absence of friends and meaningful relationships in his life was due to the fact that he had only been in town for 8 months. And busying himself with work to the point of becoming numb to a social life had paid off. He had been called in for a meeting to discuss a possible promotion. After that, time management became even more crucial to him. Early was on time, on time was late, and late was highly unacceptable. Satisfied with his self-assessment, Guy was just preparing to slip into the blissful warmth of the shower when three loud knocks jarred him awake.
“What a boring dream,” he thought, surprised to find himself still snug in bed. He sat up sluggishly and checked the alarm clock on his side table. His face grew pale. “8:30! I’m late!” Panic set in as he leaped into action. “Dammit, the meeting is today; how the hell did I miss the alarm? It was turned up loud enough to wake the dead.” Three loud knocks interrupted his train of thought and he realized someone was knocking at his apartment door. “Who in the world could that be at this hour?” he muttered, quickly donning his robe and slippers.
Guy opened the front door to find a nerdy looking fellow not much taller than himself. Greasy hair was slicked to the right. Khaki pants were an inch or so too short. And the checkered shirt, buttoned all the way up to the neck, sporting a plastic pocket protector full of pens. The visitor was busy flipping through sheets of paper on a clipboard and did not look up as he said
“Hi, I’m here for a...” He skimmed through a list of names under a “9:00 AM” heading. “Uh, Guy Smith”
Guy could not suppress his irritation. “Who are you? Who let you in here? How did you get my name?”
“My name is Death” replied the visitor. “And I have come for you.”
“I don’t have time for pranks; what is that?” Guy made a swipe at the clipboard but came up empty-handed.
“Ah-Ah-Ah” chided Death. “Can’t have you messing up my schedule.”
“Oh, I’m messing up YOUR schedule!?” Guy was incensed.
Death went back to his clipboard. “Hmmm. Cause of death....”
Guy interrupted him. “Look, I’m already late...”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you are.” Death grinned. “It’s a pity you wasted so much of your remaining time mooning over that girl in 405,” he said shaking his head. “It was never gonna happen.”
“No, I mean I’m late for...wait...how did you...are you stalking me?” A tendril of fear snaked through Guy’s consciousness. “Leave me alone!” He slammed the door shut and bolted the lock. After turning quickly, he stopped short and caught his breath. “Mother F...!” Death was seated calmly on the living room sofa. He let out a giggle then checked his watch.
“Listen Guy, we haven’t got much time.”
“How did you do that? How’d you get in? I’m calling the cops!” said Guy.
Death laughed hysterically at this. “What do you think the cops are gonna do?”
Guy started to babble. “Look man, I’m ...it’s just... I’m late, you know?”
“Yes, you are,” said Death.
“No, not that kind of late. I’m not dead. You can’t be who you say you are. You can’t prove it!”
Death scoffed. “Unbelievable. Then how did I get in here?”
“You could be a ninja. Please be a ninja...” Guy pleaded - a tinge of hysteria in his voice.
Death stood and faced him.
“Just because you gave me a good chuckle doesn’t mean this is part of the usual “repertoire’”— he hand quoted.
He snapped his fingers and the two of them were immediately transported to the edge of a volcano. Rising smoke cleared to reveal a steep volcanic crater. Guy’s eyes widened and his knees buckled. The crackle of living magma spewing chunks of hot rock thundered in his ear. Searing heat penetrated his flimsy robe. Then another wave of thick black smoke rose, suffocating him. “Get me out of here!” he cried. Death snapped his fingers and they were back in Guy’s living room.
“W-was that Hell?” said Guy. His trembling body had begun to acclimate itself again.
“Nope. That was, if I remember correctly, the Mayon volcano in the Philippines. What is Hell even?” said Death. Guy’s eyes narrowed. Fear began to give way to skepticism.
“You don’t know what Hell is? Isn’t the Devil your boss or something? And why don’t you carry a scythe? You have a freaking clipboard!”
“I don’t have a boss; I work for myself. Think of yourself as a client. I’m just here to pick you up so we can make our way to Valhalla,” said Death.
“Valhalla!? You really are the worst personification of Death” said Guy.
“Your persistence amuses me,” said Death as he materialized behind Guy and pressed his fingers against Guy’s temples, inducing virtual experiences.
Guy saw chaos plaguing a war-torn city. Dust, smoke and the smell of gun powder consumed him. Explosions shook the earth, impairing his hearing. He dropped to his knees gasping for air. He felt the bullets rip through his body as he was brutally gunned down by a sniper. He fell dead to the ground. He woke up in a hospital bed surrounded by strangers whom he inexplicably recognized as close relatives. He heard the steady hum of a heart rate monitor gone flat. Then he was lying in the middle of the road with a squirrel staring at him. His heartbeat pounded increasingly louder and heavier in his ears. Heart attack? The torment went on and on until he screamed at the top of his lungs. “STOP!!” The reality of his fate finally sank in.
He was too proud to beg for his salvation, especially since Death was so flippant and unconcerned – as if his life was worthless, meaningless. He thought about what made life worth living, but it was a more difficult task than he’d anticipated.
“I’m not going anywhere; I’m staying here. I have so much to live for!” he pleaded. “There’s so much I haven’t done. Geez, I wanna go to the Philippines and see that damn volcano. I’ve never even been outside of the country.” He felt empty and regretful of his choices. Always playing it safe, never pushing beyond his comfort zone, striving so hard to please others that he became invisible. “I’m still young. I’ve never owned a house, never taken a relaxing vacation. I’ve done nothing with my life except work. And I was this close to a great salary! I’ve never even had a meaningful relationship!” said Guy.
“Yeah well you did describe yourself as ‘just a regular GUY’ on your Tinder account, which was not even clever,” said Death.
“Even the dream I had this morning was boring,” said Guy.
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“Are you done yet?” asked Death.
This was the first time in a long while Guy had attempted to pour his heart out, and he was not appreciating Death’s attitude. “I’m staying whether you like it or not!” He laid flat on the ground.
“You’ve got no friends, no family, not even a pet who would miss you,” said Death.
Guy knew these things to be true. He had no one to blame but himself. Death sensed his despondency.
“Look, it’s never easy for anyone. But I’ve assisted children who weren’t as whiny as you are. I’m just saying...”
“I just wish I could have done more” Guy barely whispered.
“Well you didn’t!” said Death. “So get up and die like a man!”
Guy curled up into a fetal position. Maybe it was time to let go. “Classic Guy,” he thought. “Give up.” He burst into tears.
“I don’t wanna die alone!”
“No one is alone my friend; that’s why I’m here!” said Death.
Guy sneered at him then picked himself up from the floor. The tears had gone dry and a new resolve was welling up inside him. Perhaps succumbing to his fear also meant defying it. He managed to pull himself together and face Death.
“Will I meet my mom when I get there?” he asked.
“Probably not,” said Death.
“How will it work?’ asked Guy.
Suddenly, echoes of his life – excuses, reluctance, cowardice – all took visual and auditory form as they floated by, projecting themselves forward in a cacophonous mass to form a solid wall in front of him. Then he was engulfed by darkness. In the darkness, a single illuminated door appeared in the wall. Death was nowhere to be seen.
Guy swallowed hard, opened the door and stepped through. He found himself back in his apartment bathroom. An unconscious version of him was lying on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood.
“A fatal slip,” said Death, who had reappeared beside him. “At precisely 9:00 am, you will bleed out and die.”
Guy’s mind raced. Everything started to make sense. “On my way to the shower, I slipped and hit my head on the sink. It wasn’t a dream.” The sight of his own body, all alone on the bloody floor, was too much to bear.
“How much longer?” he asked.
“You’ve got about 10 minutes before you bleed out” Said Death.
Guy thought hard. He remembered there was water leaking from the bathroom ceiling the night before, and that the bucket he placed below the drip had missed it by a quarter inch. Enrique, the maintenance man was scheduled to arrive at 10:00 am to fix the leak.
“I need more time! Can you take us back by half an hour I have maintenance man coming at 10am. But if you can bring me to him, I can ask for his help! I'm sure he's somewhere within the vicinity.”
“Dude, I’m not a Time Lord,” said Death. “I can only move through the present.”
Crestfallen, Guy hung his head and sighed.
“Uh-oh, “said Death, in a cheery sing-song voice. “Looks like I’m fading. It seems your time is nearly up.”
Guy looked up to see the shimmering ghost of Death decreasing in opacity.
“No help me, please! I don’t want to die!” he went down on his knees before Death. Begging was no longer beneath him.
“Sorry Champ,” said Death, fading in and out of solid form.
Guy yelled frantically, “Help! Somebody! Can anybody hear me?!”
Once again darkness closed in on him; but this time there were no walls or doors. He clung to a memory - the last time he felt this alone and afraid. His mother had taken him to the fair to celebrate his 7th birthday and he got lost. Crowds of people passed by without even so much as a glance in his direction, though he cried and cried for his mother. When she found him two hours later, she held him tight and kissed him repeatedly. “If this ever happens again,” she said, “Close your eyes and feel your surroundings. Focus and listen for the sound of my voice.” Now with eyes tightly shut, Guy tried to hold the image of her in his mind. “Focus” his mother’s voice echoed. But the memory was fading. “Listen” her voice echoed again. But there was nothing. He tried to hold on. All that remained was the image of her face, which dissolved into darkness.
Suddenly, a smile flickered into view. It was accompanied by three soft knocks which he knew were coming from his apartment door.
“The girl from 405!”
For the past 4 days, the two of them had been bumping into each other on their way out in the mornings. While he could barely look at her, much less converse, they hit a milestone yesterday when she mentioned how nice the weather was. He’d given her a nervous glance and replied, “Indeed” then scooted out the door. But he had seen her smile, and the soft arc of her lips still lingered in his memory. If only he had asked her name! She knocked three more times. The sound sent shockwaves down his spine, revitalizing him. For having never come out of his shell, to let this moment slip now would mean literal hell-- worse than falling into the magma chamber of the Mayon.
“Death! Come back! Help me!” he cried.
“Damn, you’re so needy. What is it?!” came the voice of Death.
“There is someone out in the stairwell I need to see. Please take me there. Hurry before she leaves!” said Guy.
“Who?” said Death
“I don’t know her name,” said Guy.
Death facepalmed.
“You know no one can see or hear you, right? What makes you think this will help? You literally have 5 minutes left. Just give up already!”
“Please, my dying wish is to see her one last time. It would make me complete,” staring austerely at Death.
“Crazy eyes,” muttered Death. He snapped his fingers and they were immediately transported to the stairwell where a young lady was making her way down. She passed right through their gossamer forms.
“Hey!” yelled Guy. “Lady!”
The woman paused and looked back.
“What? That worked!?!” said Death.
“I just wanna say that bumping into you the past few days was the highlight of my life” said Guy. “I’ve just been too much of a coward to say so, and now it may be too late.” He moved closer to her and noticed she was holding a bag of cookies with his apartment number "409" written on it. She had actually been leaving her apartment early so she could run into him. And she had been standing outside his apartment door that morning, waiting for him to come out so she could offer him the cookies she’d baked the night before. Guy drew even closer to her, in awe of her beauty. She had the kindest eyes reminiscent of his mother's. And those soft lips, though she wasn't smiling now. Their worlds became intertwined and connected for a brief moment. He could hear the pounding of her heart, sensing her concern about something she couldn’t comprehend.
“I’m dying,” said Guy. “I need your help.”
Hope swelled in him as she gazed back at his apartment door. But then she sighed, shook her head and continued to make her way down the stairs and out the door.
“Sorry Dude,” said Death. The comment almost sounded genuine. Guy felt an odd sense of relief, knowing he had done everything he could.
Gazing through a window, he followed the girl’s movements. She walked past his parked car, which he would never drive again, then stopped to chat with Enrique. No doubt, he was on his way to some other tenant’s unit.
Still mystified by the uncertainties of death, Guy began to consider the idea of becoming a ghost and wondered whether he would be a friendly one or a restless mess.
“Really? You want to haunt the staircase?” said Death. “Listen, you either leave with me now or get stuck in this stairwell looking for ‘closure’. It’s your death you’re wasting.”
Before Guy could respond, he heard the building door slam open and saw the girl rushing up the stairs with Enrique.
“His car is outside so I know he’s here,” she was saying. “I knocked and knocked but there was no answer!”
Enrique unlocked Guy’s apartment door and soon made his way to the bathroom where he went to work on Guy right away.
From the bathroom doorway, the girl gasped. “Is he...alright?”
“Está bien. Soy eh, 'good' doctor.”
As fate would have it, Enrique had been a doctor in Mexico. He was able to stop the bleeding and keep Guy alive long enough for an ambulance to arrive and get him to a hospital. Enrique was puzzled that the girl knew Guy was in danger. In the end though, he just felt relief at not having to deal with another dead body. (But that’s another story.)
When he regained consciousness the next day, the first thing Guy saw was the face of the girl from 405. He had little recollection of the events that occurred the morning before. All he could remember was a knock at the door and the sound of her voice, asking if he was alright.
“Thank you,” he said.
The girl nodded and blinked back tears. “Just focus on getting some rest,” She said and started to move away.
In the far corner of the room, Guy noticed a male nurse who was holding a clipboard. The man somehow exuded a peculiar familiarity. And for some strange reason, the sight of him conjured up images of volcanoes and death and a grade-A douchebag with a pocket protector. Surprisingly, he looked straight at Guy and mouthed the word “name”.
A surge of confidence washed over Guy. He turned to the girl and grabbed her hand before she could move out of reach, which made her blush. He was a survivor now. He knew life was fleeting and there was no time to waste.
"What’s your name?" he asked.
“My name is Lady,” she said, and smiled.
The End