Iam appeared in a small room. His breathing was labored, and his hand darted to his throat, finding only clean, unblemished flesh. The fight with the Yee came back to him, and he rolled over and vomited. Gouts of clotted blood splattered to the floor. Small gobbets of torn, discolored skin dotted the pool of puke. He heaved again and again until nothing came out, and he could breathe normally again.

“That was unpleasant,” Jackson said.

Iam looked up and saw Jackson sitting on a small stool opposite the bed he was lying on. The room was simple but clean. The walls were devoid of decoration, and a small chest of drawers sat against one of the walls. Sitting atop it were his trophies and pictures, and standing in the center of the relics was the small, metal flask. Its position of honor filled Iam with rage.

“Before you start screaming,” Jackson said, “perhaps we should have a conversation.”

“Don’t bother,” Iam said. “Whatever this crap is, I’m not interested.”

He stood and moved to the door, half expecting Jackson to stop him. When the big man didn’t move, he turned the handle and stepped outside—into nothing. Beyond the door was pitch black, and when Iam placed his foot down, it kept going as if there was no floor. He pitched forward, barely catching himself on the door frame. A cold wind blew through the darkness, and it felt familiar.

“You might want to come back inside,” Jackson said.

“Yeah,” Iam said slowly, “you might be right.”

“You have come to the final test, Mr. D’Mann,” Jackson said.

Iam backed away from the door and closed it. He walked backward until his legs bumped the bedframe and sat down. The mattress creaked, and he fell back, covering his face with his hands.

“Fine, whatever,” he said, his words muffled by his hands. “What test?”

“The test of decision,” Jackson said.

Iam leaned on his elbows and looked at Jackson. “And what is that?”

“There are four tests you must pass before joining us,” Jackson said. “In fairness, the test of decision is not really a test. It’s a choice.”

“Do what you want or else isn’t a choice,” Iam said. “It’s an ultimatum.”

“Did I say anything about or else,” Jackson asked, his tone carrying a note of hurt.

“Just get on with it,” Iam said. “What’s my choice?”

“That comes later,” Jackson said.

“Why later,” Iam yelled. “Why is everything later? For once, answer me straight up. What do you people want from me?”

Jackson shook his head. “Some information only makes sense when presented in the proper order, Mr. D’Mann. So BELIEVE IT TO BE TRUE when I say you don’t need or won’t understand the answer to a question. Everything we do is based on knowledge, and I will never hide from you any information you need.”

“Except you’re the one who decides what I need, right?” Iam said.

“For now,” Jackson said. “Now, the test of decision is not a blind choice. You may ask questions, and there are things I must show before we can proceed.”

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The mattress groaned as Iam shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable. A million questions rattled around in Iam’s mind, but he couldn’t put an order to them. So much of this didn’t make sense, and he simply couldn’t tell what was important.

“How many questions do I get?” he said at last.

“We are constrained by time, not quantity,” Jackson said. “And before you ask, I do not know how much. When it is time to leave, I will know.”

“Fine,” Iam said, “let’s start with who you people are.”

“We are a collection of souls tasked with protecting the land from the Underworld,” Jackson said.

“Protecting the land…from the Underworld?” Iam said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “And I suppose Tejas is the literal god of Texas.”

“Indeed he is,” Jackson said, either missing or ignoring Iam’s tone, “very good, Mr. D’Mann.”

Iam barked a laugh. “Let me guess, the god of New Mexico is something stupid like Neuvo Mexico, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jackson said. “Her name is Koya Osadza. It roughly translates from Laguna to Woman of the Sun.”

Iam stopped laughing. “Wait, there’s really a goddess of New Mexico?”

“There are gods and goddesses of every naturalized, bordered region in the world,” Jackson said. “Why do you think they are called naturalized?”

“I just thought it was some legal mumbo jumbo,” Iam said. “But, don’t borders change?”

“Do not the rivers and mountains change over time?” Jackson asked. “Change is the only constant in the universe, Mr. D’Mann.”

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“I think a whole hell of a lot of scientists would disagree with that,” Iam said. “But whatever. You and the gods protect the land from the Underworld. What’s that?”

“Exactly what it implies,” Jackson said. “It is a world directly beneath our own.”

“You know what,” Iam said, “I don’t really care about all that right now. I want to know what this test of choice is.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, if this is the last test, what were the other three?”

“The first test,” Jackson said, “was the test of desire. You cannot achieve a goal if you cannot identify it. Your greatest desire was to get sober. The second test was that of discipline. You cannot succeed in anything without discipline. When you submitted to my punishment, it demonstrated your willingness to put yourself under another’s authority.”

Jackson stopped speaking and looked up at the ceiling. Iam followed his gaze but didn’t see anything worth looking at. Just then, the room shuddered, knocking over many of the pictures and trophies. The damn flask didn’t budge.

“The third test,” Jackson said when the upheaval subsided, “was the test of determination. I examined the Yee you fought. You could have meekly given in to the inevitable, but instead, you fought back. The Yee’s head was caved in, and Tito didn’t have much to do to kill it. Resistance in the face of fear is determination.”

“And now, I have to make a choice?” Iam asked.

“Yes,” Jackson said, standing up, “but the time for questions has ended. We must go.”

Jackson opened the door, which now opened into a hallway. It was long with matted red carpet and beige walls. It looked like a motel hallway and was lined with tell-tale numbered doors. Jackson turned left, and Iam followed him to a glass door at the end. They walked into the bright outdoors, and Iam shielded his eyes reflexively before realizing the sunlight wasn’t hurting them. There was no glare, and he could see perfectly even when he looked directly at the sun. Jackson looked him over for a moment.

“About that,” he said. “For now, you’re not exactly here.”

“What’s that mean?” Iam said.

“You’ll see in a bit,” Jackson said. “Just know that you can’t touch anything I don’t want you to, and nothing can touch you.”

Iam’s eyes went wide. “I’m a ghost!”

“You are an incorporeal being,” Jackson said. “Not a ghost.”

“There’s a difference?” Iam asked.

Jackson checked his watch, then nodded. “One more answer, then we really must go. A ghost is an afterimage, Mr. D’Mann. It has the memory of a soul but no motive spirit behind it. You are you, soul and all, just without physical form.”

Iam followed Jackson to his truck, not bothering to respond. The weird just kept coming, and he wasn’t keeping up. His emotions were all over the place, but Intuition told him he wouldn’t like where they were going. Recent experiences only served to solidify it into dread. They drove in silence, and after a few turns, Iam recognized their route. He’d only ever taken these roads once but would never forget them.

“I don’t want to go there,” he said, his voice trembling.

“You don’t have a choice,” Jackson said.

“You don’t understand! I really don’t want to go there.”

Iam snatched at the door handle, but his hands went through the cheap plastic. He tried to launch himself through the door, but it was a solid barrier against escape. Jackson kept driving, not even looking at him. Iam’s panic rose, and he started swinging his fists at Jackson. They passed through his body harmlessly. Incoherent screams escaped Iam’s lips as he fruitlessly tried to beat Jackson to a pulp.

Jackson made one last turn, and Iam stopped resisting. Fear paralyzed him as the first tombstones came into view. Somewhere, deep inside the cemetery, his parent's remains moldered beneath the ground. The last time he’d been here, he was on foot. The journey to their graves seemed to take forever, but Jackson drove with confidence, and in moments they were there. Other people were there, which confused Iam until he saw the new headstone and mound of dirt covered in green cloth.

Jess stood next to a casket suspended above a hole. Mike was next to her and held her hand as she cried. He had a stoic expression, but Iam could tell he’d been crying too. It was probably for Jess’s pain more than Iam’s death, but Iam felt a surge of affection for him nonetheless. The Millers stood off to the side, and, they too, had been crying. Jacob’s body quivered despite Henrietta’s tight embrace. The officiant read from his bible, but Iam couldn’t hear the words. Jackson stopped the truck short of the funeral and waited until the casket started lowering before continuing. Everyone looked over at the sound of the approaching truck.

Jackson got out and slowly approached Jess; Iam following more out of reflex than desire. His sister looked haggard. Her bright expression was subdued, and dark circles ringed her eyes. Iam never thought to make funeral preperations for himself, so she’d likely had to deal with all the logistics on top of grieving. God, he felt like an ass. How could he put all that on her?

“Ms. D’Mann,” Jackson said. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sorry,” Jess said with some confusion, “who are you?”

“No,” Jackson said, “I’m sorry. My name is Jackson. I was your brother’s boss.”

Jess leaped at Jackson. Iam was afraid she would hit him, but instead, she wrapped her arms around Jackson’s massive torso.

“Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you so much!”

“For what?” Jackson said, letting her hug him.

“H-he wanted to get better so bad,” Jess wailed. “And y-you were going to help him. You didn’t have to, but you were going to do it anyway. Thank you.”

It hit Iam, then—really hit him. He was dead. His body was inside that box. Tears fell as he watched the coffin’s descent into his grave. He was dead. Jess’s voice got his attention again.

“Please,” she begged, “come.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. D’Mann,” Jackson said. “I really can’t. I only stopped by to pay my respects. I didn’t know Iam very long, but I know he loved you very much. Before he died, he confided in me that you were why he wanted to get clean.”

Jess whimpered as she shook her head. “No, he wanted it for him. He wanted to be a better man.”

“Ms. D’Mann,” Jackson said, “I asked him, and he said it was for you. All for you. That’s how much he loved and respected you. Now, you need to do the same. Please, don’t let his death destroy you like your parents’s did him.”

“I won’t,” Jess said. “I promise.”

Jackson looked hard at Jess, and Iam got that same intrusive feeling from when he’d done it to him. Jess backed away a half step before stopping.

“I can see that won’t,” Jackson said. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jackson turned back to Iam and walked up alongside him. He leaned in and whispered.

“Say goodbye, Mr. D’Mann.”

“Will she hear me?” Iam croaked.

“Not with her ears,” Jackson said, “but her soul and yours are linked. Whatever message you send, she’ll receive.”

“Give me some space, please,” Iam said.

“Of course, Mr. D’Mann,” Jackson said and walked off.

Iam moved in front of Jess and just stood there for a long minute. There was so much to say, but for the umpteenth time, words failed him. Finally, he just blurted out the first thing he could think of.

“I should have given you the red Lego, sis.”

Jess’s eyes widened, and she smiled. That prompted Iam to continue.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, okay. You did everything right…everything. I should have listened to you, been there for you.” Iam swallowed hard. “But you have a life to live, and I want you to live it, okay. Also, if you can really understand me, tell the Millers I’m sorry. And tell Jacob…I love him.”

Jess broke out into fresh tears, but her smile never wavered. Iam tried to hug her, but his arms went through her body, and a moment later, Mike was at her side. He pulled her away, and Iam screamed one last sentence.

“Jess, I love you, Jess!”