Broken People

Chapter 3

"Your name is Oman?" I ask with hesitation.

"Here let me give you a hand," he says gently as he pours water into my mouth and hands me crackers. "Yes," he continues, "My name is Oman and this is Heaven's Passage."

"What is this place?" I decide to ask first, "Am I dead? Is this some kind of purgatory after death?"

Oman chuckles. He exits the room and comes back with a book in his hand bound in leather. "No my child, you are not dead," he says. "In fact, this is the beginning of a rebirth. You were spared and I found you so you could be part of a greater cause. Heaven's Passage is an organization that focuses on saving humankind from a tragic existence. We have recruited some of the most skilled individuals in the land to help us give the gift of afterlife to as many as we can. This life is full of sin and disease and sorrow. As soon as we cross the border to the afterlife, all of our pain and suffering disappears and we are given eternal freedom and happiness."

I have to slowly process everything Oman is saying to me. I stare blankly at his mask and decide what to say next. I have no idea if this man is dangerous or if I need to be concerned with what he is insinuating. The only thing I can muster is, "So why do you have a mask on," and I drop my head in disappointment for my lack of eloquence.

"Death is scary my disciple," he says. "Those who are unaware of how relieving death is are reluctant to die. We must keep or identities hidden in order to separate ourselves from the deaths of others. If our identity is unknown, it is harder for us to be restricted from giving this gift to the foolish people who do not see this gift for themselves. Do you remember anything of the outside?"

I let myself sit with the question he just asked me. I don't remember anything really. I definitely don't remember the outside. Does he mean outside this room? Outside whatever building I'm in? I don't remember much besides language. I am speaking and understanding English, but when it comes to things that aren't exactly abstract concepts, I'm drawing a huge blank.

"I will assume your silence means that you do not," he says remorsefully. "The outside is cruel. I found you out there in its unforgiving terrain and brought you to this sanctuary. You were almost killed by sin and by hate. The majority of members here have had brushes with death of this fashion. They have all come to grasp the idea of this mission and our message and have devoted their lives to giving the ultimate gift to others."

Again I am silent. I don't know much of what to say so I stall by eating cracker after cracker and not speaking because as everyone knows, even I know, that it is impolite to talk with a mouthful.

"Here," Oman says as he hands me the leather bound book he retrieved earlier. "This will be your time to meditate and read of our previous prophets and our message. This is our book of faith that explains everything. It will explain your past and your future and the true meaning of living and dying. You will become one with it and decide if you are interested in our mission. And if not, well, I hope that isn't your decision. Do you understand your assignment?"

I grab the book from his hand and look at its cover. It is blank except for a giant inscribed twenty-one in the middle of the leather. "I understand," I say as I look back at Oman.

"Good," he says almost in a relief. "You will be in here for a time of spiritual awakening. The lamp will turn off when it is time to sleep and it will turn back on when it is time to study. We will provide you with food and water along the way. I have nothing but faith in you my child, but do not disappoint me." He leaves on that happy note and exits my room.

The door slams and I am entrapped once more in my quaint resort condo (sounds better than prison cell doesn't it). I reach down and touch the book again, this time letting my fingers graze over every single ridge and crease. The book is obviously old. It has seen some dark days and been through some rough times. I crack open the cover and a man hanging is the first thing I see. Pleasant. This book is obviously not for children but I think I'm mature enough to handle it. The pages are, well, paper thin, duh, I know, but maybe even thinner than regular. They feel fragile to pull it seems as if it could easily tear.

I investigate its contents and I find that it is separated into books which I assume have different messages. The first book is an introduction. I begin to skim the passages and flip the pages and try to comprehend their meanings. They talk about death like Oman does, an escape. They discuss the difference between right and wrong and what deems something as right or wrong in what context and who decides it.

Heaven's Passage is described as an organization that aims to help everyone cross from this plane to another. The afterlife is described as being clean and pure while the time when you're alive is full of pain and sin and despair, just as Oman said. Saviors and missionaries are instructed to let go of all earthly feelings of lust, passion, and love as they distract from the main goal. The failure to do so will result in a tortured death. I wonder to myself just how important I am to him if he took death away from me and what I did to deserve that, because right now as I still feel the throb in my head and the turn of my stomach I can see death being quite a relief.

I flip through the pages until my lamp flickers off and I know it's time to sleep. I close my book and place it next to me on the bed. I use what strength I have to roll over and find a comfortable spot to lay in. I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander.

What Oman says seems plausible. It makes sense that this life could be cruel and unforgiving, I mean apparently I was shot. And in Oman's book it talks about the reason behind a death can block someone's passing to the afterlife. If someone is killed out of hate or revenge, the person has a harder time passing on. I wonder if Oman thought I someone tried to kill me out of hate. It makes sense that he would think that and want to save me, and in return I help him achieve his mission.

It seems almost crazy. The notion of killing in good spirit doesn't seem like a plausible possibility to me but I guess that's why I am here to meditate. My mind quietly silences as the world around me does the same and I drift off into a deep sleep.