It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,9
go.”
“And just how am I supposed to do that? Even if I can find someone who will send me back, I doubt they’ll want me to remember all this. My story wouldn’t exactly be good public relations for this place.”
She beams a smile of hope and I already know I’m going to do it. It’s not like it takes that long to get to Indianapolis from my house.
“Take this,” she says, tugging the ring off her finger and pressing it into the palm of my hand.
“I can’t,” I argue, pushing her hand away. “You need it. If I take it, won’t you start to forget?”
I can tell by the look on her face that she hasn’t thought this plan through. She shakes her head. “It’s a calculated risk. If you keep it on you, maybe it’ll make it out of the Afterlife when you go back.”
I look down at the ring. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“You’ll figure it out,” she says, standing up. “Now come on. We need to get you in line. Don’t want Lillith thinking you’ve joined my rebellion.”
“For someone who doesn’t want to leave, you sure are in a hurry to send me into the great unknown,” I say, letting her pull me up and drag me toward the front desk.
Once we’re there, she turns and pulls me into a tight hug. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” I argue.
“Oh, but you have. You’ve given me hope.”
I shake her off. “Don’t get too excited. There’s still that little detail about getting back to the land of the living.”
“Failure is not an option,” she says, perkier than a dead person has any right to be.
I take my place at the end of the line. Sandy follows me as I inch forward. Just as I turn the corner, she reaches out and grabs my arm. “Thank you.”
I smile at her. What else can I do?
“Good luck,” she calls out as I step up to the counter, but the words already sound so far away.
When I finally reach the front of the line, a woman with blond hair and an airbrushed complexion greets me. “Name?”
I shift my weight, taking one last look over my shoulder before turning back. “Um, RJ Jones.”
She types in a few swift keystrokes and I hear a buzzing sound from her machine.
“What’s that?” I ask, standing on my tiptoes. But all she does is smile. “Is this like check in? Because I need to talk to a manager or someone in charge. There’s been a mistake. I’m not supposed to be here.”
She looks up at me with a dazzling smile. “We don’t make mistakes,” she says with a sweetness so heavy my teeth hurt.
“But you did, or at least the Grim Reaper did. He even admitted it to me.”
She looks at me in amusement. “Well, if there was some error, I’m sure Azrael will look into it.”
Azrael? Why does that name fill me with dread? A loud beep distracts me. “What is that?” I ask again.
She slides a thin brown package about the size of a dinner plate across the desk. “Rowena Joy Jones, this is your life.”
Crap.
Chapter 5
I stare at the disc and then back up at the woman behind the counter. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
She points to a long hallway. “Pick any open room and watch it.”
That’s it? She hands me a highlight reel of my life and then tells me to pick a room? People get more counseling before they adopt a dog. When I don’t move right away, she clears her throat and tells me with her eyes that I am dismissed. Looking at the line of souls behind me, I decide not to argue. Besides, if anyone is going to be able to help me find a way back, it’s not going to be a paper pusher.
Following the red carpet, I slip into the first open room I see. The walls are a sunny yellow, except for the space above a machine that looks like an oversized DVD player. In front of the machine is a high-backed chair upholstered in a deep shade of purple—my favorite color. Other than that, the room is empty.
I slide the disc out from the cover and slip it into the machine before sinking into the soft cushions. It’s like snuggling up in a cloud. Too bad there’s no popcorn. If I remember correctly, my life is pretty interesting. Ski trips with friends, shopping in Chicago, sneaking backstage at