Chapter 3
Vladimir Impala
As I sat on the cold floor, I screamed in frustrated rage. When would I catch a freaking break?
I realized I was still in the operating room. The tunnel of light and Azrael were gone. After several seconds and a deep, shaky breath, I got to my feet.
The operating room hadn't changed. Bright lights flooded the room, making my dead body on the bed stand out like a sore thumb. All the medical equipment still stood sentinel over my remains. My interaction with Azrael must've only lasted a few minutes, at most. Otherwise, my body would've been cleaned and taken to the morgue already. There may be a lot of complaints with hospitals about the care you receive, but you can't deny they're efficient meat grinders.
What was my next move? I couldn't stay here in the operating room forever. Getting home to my family was the end goal; I knew that much. What I didn't know was how I'd get there. Azrael wasn't exactly a wealth of knowledge about how things operated in this plane of existence. "Always remember your free will" was the extent of his advice.
That's fantastic, but what the fuck does it mean?
Anxiety started creeping in as a thousand questions entered my mind. How was I going to get home? Could I just catch a bus? Could I communicate with my family when I got home? The doctor and nurses seemed unable to hear me, but would it be different with my loved ones?
Stop it!
I had to get my shit together. Closing my eyes, I took several deep breaths.
One step at a time. That's how I'm going to get home. Just hit the bricks. I'll figure things out as I go.
I opened my eyes, feeling better. My little self-help pep talk had worked. I walked to the door and placed my hand on it. Taking another deep breath to steel my nerves, I pushed open the door and stepped into .
A hallway. Your normal, everyday hospital hallway. Two nurses in blue scrubs, one tall with long blond hair and the other short with curly black hair, walked by without looking at me. I decided to test a theory.
"Hey, ladies, I'm right here and I'm butt naked!" I yelled, waving my arms in the air.
Nothing. No response. The nurses kept walking without looking back and then turned the corner, disappearing from my sight. Well, that settled it. I was one hundred percent sure I was a ghost. A jolt of fear and apprehension shot through me, but I pushed my feelings down and concentrated on the task at hand.
Which way should I go? I looked left, then right, but both directions looked identical: closed doors, salmon-colored walls, and cold, uninviting tile. After several seconds of debate, I decided I'd follow the nurses.
Coming around the corner, I saw a nurses' station on the left about halfway down the hall. As I approached, I could see the two nurses who passed me earlier sitting behind a long counter, dutifully typing away at their computers.
I stopped at the counter and watched them for a moment. A clipboard, a sign-in sheet for visitors, and a pen sat on top of the counter. An idea popped into my head.
My hand shook as I reached for the clipboard. Could I grab and move objects in this realm and simultaneously move them in the living world? If so, I could get the attention of my wife or one of my boys and hopefully communicate with them.
Elation poured through me as I gripped the clipboard and picked it up. I looked at the nurses to see if they spotted the clipboard moving. If they couldn't see me, they should be able to see the floating clipboard, but they didn't. Neither one looked up from their computer screens.
"Excuse me," I said. When they didn't acknowledge me, I slammed the clipboard down onto the counter. The loud smacking sound reverberated down the hall, but the nurses didn't even flinch.
"Hello." I slammed the clipboard down several times. "Are you deaf?"
The nurses continued typing, oblivious to me and the noise I was making.
Screw it. I tossed the clipboard at the tall, blond nurse. It bounced off her keyboard and landed in her lap. She looked up, but instead of looking at me, she looked at the other nurse and asked, "Hey Shelia, you want to catch a movie tonight?"
"Sorry, I can't," Shelia said. "I've got a date with Evan."
"Evan from oncology?"
"The one and only!"
"Ooh, girl, I want details tomorrow."
Shelia shook her head and smiled.
I watched, dejected, as the nurses giggled and went back to typing, oblivious to my presence. It occurred to me the clipboard wasn't sitting in the nurse's lap in her reality. She couldn't see it or feel it. In their world, the clipboard remained on the counter. So no matter what I do, they won't see or hear me, I thought.
Despair washed over me, and it may have consumed me if I hadn't suddenly felt tired. Actually, I was exhausted. It felt like I had worked a double shift without coffee.
Why was I suddenly tired? It didn't make sense.
Before I could give my sudden exhaustion any more thought, I heard someone yelling at the end of the hall.
I looked up and saw a screaming Scarface Malone careening around the corner. He made eye contact with me, and I saw his eyes bug out of his head. A deep anger flared inside of me. What were the odds I'd run into the piece of shit that killed me in the afterlife?
"Hey, you can see me!" Scarface said as he barreled toward me. He still wore the white tank top and basketball shorts he had died in. His wide eyes reflected pure terror.
"Man, you gotta help me," he said. "One minute I'm in a shootout, and the next I'm standing in a damned hospital room. Shit, I saw my dead body! Then, oh shit, then this swirling black hole opened up in the floor and the entire room smelled like rotten eggs." The words came out in a rush. His voice broke, and he started crying.
I desperately wanted to punch the sorry bastard in the mouth, and I would've, but my anger slowly evaporated. Morbid curiosity took over. Gone was Scarface's gangster dialect. He had dropped the act. Now he sounded almost like a suburban white boy.
"What happened after that?" I asked.
"Damn, I ran. Ran out the doors and into the hall. Thought I was safe, but I wasn't."
Scarface looked behind him and shivered before continuing. "I started walking down the hall, but I got this feeling like someone was behind me. I've had that feeling before, and it saved my life. That's when I turned around and saw it."
He broke down, blubbering incoherently. I was surprised. This guy was a cold-blooded killer and dope dealer. A thug who'd seen and done it all. So what in God's name did he witness to make him cry like a five-year-old kid who thought the boogeyman was hiding under his bed?
I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Hey, Scarface, snap out of it! Get your shit together."
After several seconds, he calmed down enough for me to get his attention.
"Hello, earth to Scarface. Do you read me?"
He looked at me with tears streaming from his eyes.
"Tell me what you saw, Scarface."
"I can't, it's too terrible."
"You must tell me what you saw, man. That's the only way I can help you."
"Nobody's going to help us. We're screwed. That thing isn't natural." He shivered, but continued. "It's tall, like over seven feet. At first, it resembled the shadow of a man dressed in a trench coat, but that's an illusion. The trench coat was actually dark, leathery wings that were wrapped around it. It started walking toward me, and it flapped the wings. They filled the whole hallway. When the massive bastard got close ." He shuddered, turned, and looked down the hall again. When he looked back at me, he had a thousand-yard stare, like he'd been in the middle of a war zone. Somehow, he continued when I was sure he couldn't.
"When it got close, man, it was one ugly motherfucker. A fine mat of black hair covered its body. And thick, man, this son of a bitch is built like a brick shithouse. Looks like it can bench press a box truck." He paused, peering over his shoulder again, like he thought the monster was creeping up behind him. After several seconds, he turned back to me. Despite the icy grip of fear that engulfed me, I nodded for him to continue.
"It has long arms, longer than any normal person, and huge, powerful hands with thick fingers, and at the ends of the fingers are long, sharp claws that look like they could slice through solid steel. But its face . Christ almighty, it's horrible." He shook his head and shuddered with the memory of it. "This fucker has burning red eyes. Seriously, they're burning with an inner fire. It has long pointed ears with tufts of hair on the tips. And the fucker's baldheaded as a newborn. The worst thing,...
