Come With Me

Chapter 2, Part 3

HELP MAKE THIS STORY HEARD!! For those of you who voted, thank you!  I will try my best to write regurlarly.  Comment on how the story is so far, and if you like it, reccomend it!!!  There is MUCH more to come!  ~Sam

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I roughly stood up, stumbling a bit, and spun around to see two men standing behind me. One looked to be about seventy, with white hair and doe eyes.  The other, the one that stood behind him a bit, had his arms crossed over his confident chest.  His muscles rippled when he noticed I was staring at him.  For all I know, he could have been part of a gang before he died.

 We all three stood, just watching each other.  The only difference was I was expecting harm from them and they seemed to be figuring out how to approach me.  They whispered between themselves, never taking their eyes off of me, and I did the same. 

I stretched my torso up and straitened my back to make me seem taller.  The cutting pain rippled in my gut again, and I doubled over, my face pinched.  The old man started to approach me.  “It’s okay, son.  You’re not really in pain.  Just try to relax.”

I spit through gritted teeth, “The hell I’m not in pain.”  I pulled up my grey shirt – (wait, since when was I wearing this shirt?) – to show off my impressive cut.  When there was no reaction from them, I looked down at myself and started to stumble.  I could see through my torso.  It wasn’t cut up anymore, but it was like I was made out of thick fog.  I held up my hands, and, to my horror, I could see through my fingers.

“Just relax…”  I had to hold on to those two words in hopes of keeping my sanity.  I wanted to turn them into a soothing wave.  I tried to breathe deeper, more evenly.  The wrenching in my gut started to go away, and I flopped on the ground in relief.  I kept my head bent, embarrassed and nervous to look up.  “There you go.”  For some reason, maybe it was because I was still coming to terms with my death, I found this situation funny. 

My shoulders lightly jerked up and down while I tried to stifle my laughter.  Maybe this was my way of freaking out. 

“Death is no joke, kid.”  Motorcycle Dude said.  There are just some people that you don’t have a connection with, some people you were meant to dislike, and I think he was one of them.  It felt like he was pinning me with his squinted eyes.  I squinted back.

“My name is John, and the person accompanying me is Anvil.”  The old man gestured behind him.

I started to stand up again.  “Is that really your name? Anvil?”  I doubted it, but it fitted him almost too perfectly.  He just clenched his jaw. 

John closed the distance there was between us and gently grabbed me under the arm to help me up.  “Can you walk?”  I took a few shaky steps; I could hardly feel my legs.  I nodded and stood up more confidently.  That was one thing I was certain about, my ability to walk.  He smiled.  “Good, then we should get going.  Are you ready?”

Even though I had no idea what he was talking about, I shrugged, letting him know I would go with him.  But I had to know one more thing.  “Where are we?”

John turned to me again and answered with more kindness.  He was like the Grandpa I never had.  “This is Decision.  Here is where your fate will be decided, either for the best…”

“Or the worst.”  Anvil finished. 

“And what is my fate?”  I asked John.

“You are Unclassified at the moment, and it is not in my status to judge that.  I am nearly a Collector.”

“Do you collect people like me?”  I felt so alone.

“I collect lost souls.”  He answered softly.  I was a lost soul.  Sadly, I fit the description.  I stared at the ground as I followed John and Anvil.