I'm Not Dead

Chapter Eleven

SUCK IT IAN

Fire. Hot. Burning.

I sat up slowly. Even the ground was hot. Where am I?

I looked around. The ground was endless. Stretching out around me flat for miles. And when I mean flat I mean literally flat. Like the top of a table. It was a strange shade of brown, a brownish red. I've never quite seen that color before.

The sky was endless too, going on above me forever. There was nothing.

"Hello?" my voice echoed in the void.

I started to walk in one direction, hoping that I'd maybe find something. This was all vaguely familiar. But I couldn't put my finger on it.

I looked down at the ground and bumped into something solid. I looked up at this towering brick building. Where the hell did that come from? It may not be very bright here—where ever here is—but I'm pretty sure I would've seen that.

I walked around it until I found the front door. I read the sign that hung on it: "Deals and Deeds"

"Huh." I pushed open the door and walked inside.

Inside there were tall white walls, plain, with fluorescent lights on the ceiling. They buzzed slightly, and for a few seconds that all I could focus on. Then I noticed the boring Elevator Music playing softly. I looked around for a source of the music but found none.

The only thing in the room was a desk, and behind it a girl with black hair and orange eyes. She smiled. "Hi, my name's Genevieve. Come sit."

I didn't see a chair, but approached the desk and felt compelled to sit down anyway. As I sat, I was afraid that I'd fall on the floor, but I didn't. A chair appeared underneath me.

"Deals or deeds?"

"Uh..." Considering I didn't much know what a deed was, "Deal?" I said it like a question, so I repeated: "Deal."

"Okay." She was overly enthusiastic. "So how are you enjoying Hell? It's really nice this time of year."

Hell? "I'm in Hell?"

"Well it's diffidently not Heaven."

"How'd I end up here?"

"What's your name, dear?"

"Elliot Vaughn."

"Birth and death date, if you know the latter."

"September 20, 1999. October something 2016."

"Okay. Elliot, you are in Hell for the following reasons: Under-aged drinking, illegal substance use, driving under the influence, premarital sex, saying the Lord's name in vain, vehicular manslaughter, you're gay—"

"Wait what?"

"I'm kidding. Damn Catholics keep trying to send perfectly nice guys down here just because they're gay." Genevieve smiled but I didn't smile back. She went on. "Vandalism, stealing, pirating CDs and songs... basically it's a lot of little stuff that just adds up."

She looked up at me. "Okay, so let's make a deal. There's a few standard ones that a lot of people go with, but really I'm not going to force you into anything here. I just want a deal that works best for you."

"Uh-huh."

"So if you've got family back home we can give them money, a successful life, good fortune, love, sometimes people will send a message back home, eternal guidance... any of these sound good to you?"

I shook my head.

Genevieve scratched her head. "Well, if you want revenge on someone, maybe if you were murdered, we can arrange that... but I'm reading on your file that you weren't murdered and that you were only seventeen so it's not like you've got a ton enemies, am I right?"

I nodded.

"How about you tell me about yourself?"

"I've got a girlfriend. And a best friend. And a lot of friends, I guess. And my parents, and this shitty cat that doesn't really like me. Uh..." I thought about the text. "My girlfriend is pregnant."

"Oh." Genevieve tapped a pen against her lip. Where'd she get that pen? There's nothing on the desk other than a computer. "You want to be around for that, don't you?"

I nodded.

Genevieve let out a long breath. "Okay, so I don't normally offer this up as an opportunity, but, what if I bring you back to life? You can see your child grow up. You can finish living your life. A second chance, per say."

I nodded slowly. "What's the catch?"

"Well, if I bring you back to life, then you have to kill someone. A person of my choosing."

"How does this deal thing work? Do we shake on it, or?"

"Contract." Genevieve rolled out a long script of paper. "This contract states that I Genevieve of Deals and Deeds, Hell, guarantee to bring you back to your previous health twenty four hours before time of death. If the deceased died from terminal illness I will cure that ailment before bringing the dead back. I, Genevieve of Deals and Deeds, Hell, agree to do this with promise that the dead takes life of person of my choosing when I choose. If the deceased goes back on the agreement, or does not wish to go throw with it, (s)he will return to their death, and there will be no remembrance of their second living. Yada, yada, yada, expect contract to be pending for 3-5 business days yada, yada... Sign here."

"With what?"

"Prick your finger."

Beside the computer there was a tack, sharpened to a point. I pressed my finger on it until the skin broke.

"Press there." Genevieve said.

I pressed my blood onto the page where she told me. Then, like magic, my signature appeared, written in my blood.

"Sign here and here and here."

I pressed my finger where she had pointed.

"My turn." She didn't prick her finger, just started to sign. How'd she get her finger to bleed?

"Okay. Now," She spat into her hand and held it out to me. "Shake on it."

I held up my hand and she shook her head. "No, you have to spit."

I spat into my hand—the one without the pricked finger—and shook her hand.

She smiled. "Nice doing business with you."

I blinked and I was surrounded by darkness and the smell of dirt. And it was at that moment that I knew I really fucking fucked up.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA