The Hearse flies through space, winding around countless asteroids and passing faraway supernovas. In the back seat, a Body Bag with red accents wriggles as if there are thousands of small animals inside. This Bag contains all the souls Cheron and Oto collected today. Neither of the two reapers ever remember the Bag’s exact capacity, let alone the names of its occupants. It just so happens that the duo’s most recent clients do not fit in the Bag, so Juno and Madame Muffinpie sit. They try not to glance at, listen to, or even graze the sides of the Bag. Instead, they glue their eyes to the windows, where they watch candy-colored planets and ovaloid ships slip away.
Oto shifts in his seat and picks twigs out of his ponytail. He occasionally shoots a smile at Cheron, who is not having it.
The spindly man clears his throat. “You know, you look really familiar with that patch over your eye. You look… kinda cool, actually. Wait— sorry, that’s not to say that disabilities are…. Uh…”
Oto retreats his gaze and pats the dashboard for a couple of seconds, he then consciously inhales and looks at Cheron again.
“Are you sure you’re okay with driving? I can drive if you’re still—”
Cheron keeps her eyes on the void before them. “I’m fine. Also, you can’t drive. Well, you can, but you really shouldn’t.”
“What does it matter to you? It’s not like you’ll die or anything…”
“Yes, but with all the painkiller-induced delirium I’ve experienced lately, I wish I could.”
Oto stops shooting smiles. There are no more twigs in his hair for him to pick. He swallows and stops looking at his partner.
“I really am sorry, Cheron. And I—“
“I forgive you. But I really want to punch you.”
The corners of Oto’s mouth curl again, only slightly. “That doesn’t sound like forgiveness at all, but it’s fair. So! Where do you want to eat dinner?”
“Are you trying to bribe me?”
A smirk has fully returned. “You’re suspiciously smart for someone drowned in painkillers…”
Cheron punches Oto’s shoulder and smirks back. “Cavalcafé. And you’re going to pay.”
“I feel like I already have, haha! Ow!” Oto thinks about what he just said. “‘Ow?’ Huh... Ow.”
The Hearse slows where there is absolutely no traffic, no sound, and no light. There is nothing here, save for a small triangular hole. Coming off of the hole is a white, cloth-like fragment resembling a dog-eared page. As the Hearse approaches, the dog-eared fragment falls to reveal a vast, white nothingness. Cheron stops the Hearse then shifts to a gear that is labelled with an oval the same color as Oto’s eyes. In less than a blink, the Hearse disappears, and the hole zips back up. Juno and Madame Muffinpie are still screaming when they return to a steady drive.
Cheron winces. “This is why we need to bring more Bags.”
Oto is still curiously massaging his shoulder. “I kind of like surprising them.”
The scared souls stop screaming as they realize their current path is beyond calm. Surrounding the Hearse, there seems to be nothing but shadowless white space. But after a few minutes of driving, a horizon appears and on it stands a coral-colored mid-century Hotel with golden awnings and a neon red sign that reads “LIFE AFTER LIFE.” The Hotel has eight stories, yet still seems too small and too quiet to contain every deceased soul ever. Juno and Madame Muffinpie gawk at the Hotel with amazement and disappointment, respectively.
Cheron parks in front of the Hotel then unlocks the Hearse. “Oh, and I have a question to ask you. It’s important.”
“Hm? Wuzzat, Cherry?” Oto asks as he reaches behind his seat for the Bag, and as he does, Juno and Madame Muffinpie scoot away from it until their faces touch the windows.
Cheron opens her door. “Not my name. Anyway, we’ll discuss it over dinner.” She exits then skips up the cobblestone steps toward the Hotel’s bright red double doors.
Juno widens his eyes toward the front seat. “Dinner? ...Can we come?”
Oto exits, slings the Bag on his back, and opens Juno’s and Madame Muffinpie’s doors. “Haha! No. You two have some place special to go.”
Juno and Madame Muffinpie hesitate to step on the pure white ground. It is perfectly and eerily flat. The only thing giving it traction is its matte finish.
After hopping up the steps to be beside Cheron, Oto spins around with wide open arms. “Welcome to Purgatory! Looking around—”
“There is nothing,” Cheron says.
“It may not seem like much—-”
“Literally nothing.”
“But it does have a Hotel!”
“And that’s it.”
“And in the Hotel is—”
“Bureaucracy.”
Oto presses a fist to his mouth. “Let’s just go inside.” Still ogling the ground, Juno and Madame Muffinpie join them on the steps.
He swings open the double doors to reveal a foyer decorated with red columns, red carpeting, red coat racks, and golden brown walls. The sofas and egg seats are plum and plush, and they surround organically-shaped coffee tables.
“Someone’s stuck in the sixties…” Madame Muffinpie mumbles.
“Someone’s stuck here forever,” Cheron bites back.
Everyone is translucent and colorless, save for Cheron and Oto. Souls of all shapes and species litter the lobby. Some lounge, some take tours, some experience existential meltdowns, some check in, and some work. Bellhops, maids, and concierges form the workforce. Each wears a pink uniform, an identification badge, and a Sickle sheath. The employees’ Sickles are not as effective, capacious, or cool as the Scythe, but they help mitigate the main duo’s workload.
Entering the middle of the lobby, the tetrad reaches the reception desk. Beside it, a bellhop with a red armband stands above and directs three other bellhops. The bellhop manager is a quadrate cyclops with colossal tusks and mitt-like hands. When his eye was bright and white, he dreamt of becoming a scholar in the arts, that he would someday start his own exhibitions, and he dreamt of being humble but passionate and wholly free. Then he died. And although his soul has passed on, he has never recovered. This is Hal. He hates it here.
Oto waves to him. “Hiya Hal! Would you mind—”
“Taking-your-Bag-and-showing-our-lovely-new-guests-the-wonderful-ins-and-outs-of-Life-After-Life. Yes. I can do that. Sir,” Hal exhales, snatches the Bag, and dismisses his troop of bellhops. “Come with me.” He doesn’t look at Juno or Madame Muffinpie as he walks to a hallway left of the reception.
Juno and Madame Muffinpie nearly trip over each other as they follow Hal, glancing back at Oto and Cheron. Oto grins and puts up a thumb, nudging Cheron to do the same. She smiles at the new guests. It is not comforting.
At the reception desk, a tall anthropomorphic crow with a cylindrical forehead sits. He speaks only in squawks and thinks only in circles. This is Todd Crowe. He is the concierge manager, and his last name is “Crowe” because his species is a joke.
Oto turns to him. “Todd, please tell our guests and staff that Cheron and I will be out for the next uh… How long?” He asks Cheron.
“Thirty minutes should suffice,” she says.
Oto nods and turns to Todd. “Three hours.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Do you really not know?”
“Time is so stupid! Mortals just keep inventing new ways to kill themselves.”
“Time is not new, Oto. It’s been here since the dawn of… Hm.”
“I see,” Oto rubs his chin and turns to Todd again. “Six hours.”
Cheron giggles and rolls her eyes.
“SQUAWK!” Todd squawks.
Oto’s eyes widen. “What? We’re understaffed? In what department?”
“SQUAWK!”
“Secretary of Styx? But we have an unlimited supply of— How...?”
“SQUAWK!”
“Yikes. Well… Make sure to tell Hal and Molly, then send a search team. Purgatory seems endless, but the realm always circles back to the Hotel, so they couldn’t have gone far.”
“SQUAWK!”
“Holy— Haha! I’m glad to hear your... enthusiasm. But please try to be nice when you bring them back. They’re dead, but their lives still matter, and I really can’t take any more angry ghosts.”
“SQUAWK!”
“I knew I could count on you, Todd.” Oto turns to Cheron again, but she has disappeared. He scans the lobby. “Cherry?”
Across all the red columns, red carpeting, and red coat racks, he cannot see red hair.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
