Resting Place

The train doors slid open with a disquieting hiss. Kimberly hugged her bag to her chest and took a deep breath before stepping aboard. Figures of all shapes and sizes pushed past her, hurrying to fill the empty spots among the wooden benches and leaving her stumbling through the aisle. The doors closed.

She clutched her bag tighter and regained her balance in time to find not a single open seat in sight. As she shuffled down the aisle, the passengers averted their eyes. No one scooted over to make room for her, no one smiled her way.

“Attention passengers,” a static voice sounded overhead, “be advised that all train doors will be locked throughout your transport, and at least thirty seconds after arriving at the next platform.”

The train shuddered. Kimberly wobbled atop her sensible heels before lurching forward, narrowly stopping herself from elbowing a seated passenger in the nose. He promptly glared up at her.

“So sorry,” she muttered before continuing her trek to the end of the car.

“Our next stop will be Olympian Station, platform three. If you wish to transfer upon arrival, please seek out a ticket inspector, located in the gangways. Unpunched tickets will not be accepted for transfers.”

Kimberly finally arrived at an empty bench in the very last row. She slid all the way in so that she was next to the window.

“We hope you have a pleasant trip with us on Afterlife Railway and wish you all the best during your travels through the largest city of the dead.”

The crackling voice clicked off, leaving only the rumblings of the train and the babbling of the other passengers behind. Kimberly looked out the window at the platform, still crowded with waiting passengers. She’d been transferring from train to train all day long, traveling a long way from her rural Resting Place, so far removed from the dense and expansive limits of Olympia City. Each transfer to each new platform had brought more passengers with it. She took a deep breath, grateful to have found a bench to herself.

The sounds of the train grew louder, chugging and screeching to life, and drowning out the voices around her. She settled into her seat, watching the platform slide away outside. It was quickly replaced with an endless succession of buildings, all faced in shining chromes, silvers, coppers, and golds, and divided only by cobbled walkways, steep stone stairs, and crisscrossing train tracks. Olympia was quite a sight to behold, and Kimberly could understand well enough why one may choose the city as their Resting Place, but just watching the swarths of strangers shuffling to and fro down the streets was enough to put her nerves on edge.

She looked down at her brown leather bag, still clutched close to her chest. Her hand slid to the latch, popping it open. Three items sat comfortably inside: a wooden hairbrush, a flat, smooth rock, and a well-worn pair of red heels. Kimberly smiled before clicking the latch shut again.

“Prepare for incline,” the voice clicked on overhead once again.

Nylon straps suddenly ejected from each bench, and the passengers quickly buckled themselves in. The train car tilted back and Kimberly stared out the window in awe. Olympia was not only a city that extended outwards across much space, but upwards as well. At the city’s center, a mountain of shining skyscrapers climbed into the air. Streets and walkways became more vertical than horizontal. Its construction defied all logic. But, reason didn’t exactly apply to the world of the dead, Kimberly supposed.

They passed building after building, eventually slicing through a layer of clouds until they seemed to be above the sky itself. Finally, the train crawled to a halt.

“Welcome to Olympian Station. Please remember to mind the gap between the train and platform edge.”

Kimberly was nearly pushed back onto the train as soon as she stepped off it, as a hoard of waiting passengers scurried to board.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” she chanted in vain. No one spared her a second glance.

She soon found herself swept up in a current of foot traffic, pushed down one of the many steep cobbled walkways lining the train tracks and shining high-rises. Unfamiliar streets traveled in every direction, and she immediately found herself disoriented. With much effort, she pushed herself through the crowd and to the side of a bronze building, where she could stand without worrying about being trampled. She leaned back against the smooth wall and took a deep breath. Strangers continued to rush past.

Her hand slipped into the pocket of her dress and produced a folded envelope. She carefully smoothed its creases and pulled out the piece of paper tucked within, rereading the last portion of the letter:

If you wish to dispute a Resting Place placement, please come to the Recently Deceased Categorization building at 243 Haven Street, Olympia City to set up an appointment with one of our Processing Agents. You will need to provide no more and no less than three (3) pieces of evidence in support of your dispute. Our Agents can make no guarantee that your dispute will be accepted or resolved.

Kimberly glanced up and down the street, searching for a sign that might help her get her bearings. Crowds continued to pass by, every stranger marching with speed and determination. They all knew exactly where they were going, and they paid her no attention. She returned the envelope to her pocket, hugged her bag to her chest, and chose a direction.

She soon came upon a sign that read Transcendental Way, but this didn’t help her much. She didn’t know a thing about the streets of Olympia, or which one she needed to take to get to her destination. Her pace slowed to a halt, and annoyed strangers shouldered past her.

“Move out of the way,” a woman grumbled before jostling her to the edge of the walkway. A train zoomed past, sending Kimberly’s hair flying and her heart racing. A hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back.

“You all right, little lady?”

A tall man stood a little too close, his smile a little too eager. His hand still gripped her wrist.

“You look lost.”

She pulled herself free. “I’m just looking for two-forty-three Haven street. Could you point me in the right direction?”

His cheeks stretched with a grin. “Ah, the R.D.C. building. That’s easy. You just keep following the streets uphill, and it’s the big, black building across from Cemetery Square. You can’t miss it.”

Kimberly turned to stare in the direction the walkways continued to slope upwards. “Thank you,” she nodded to the man and stepped back into foot traffic.

“Hey!” he called after her. “Why don’t we have a drink or two together before you go, eh?”

She glanced back, hoping he wouldn’t follow. “Sorry, no time.”

“Then after you’re done!” he yelled over the growing crowd of people separating them. The other strangers between them eyed her disapprovingly as if she were encouraging the strange man to cause such a disturbance. The farther she got, the angrier and more obscene his shouts became, and she forced herself to tune him out.

Now, the surging crowds couldn’t seem to walk fast enough. If she could have, she would’ve been running through the city to her destination, but there were too many people and too many trains rushing by every other moment. They continued up and up, gradually climbing higher into the city. Finally, there was a break in the tracks and the buildings. The crowds thinned and spread out.

Statues filled the open space. Giant gravestones, some ancient, crumbling slate, others newer, polished granite and marble. The names of the deceased were etched deep into the imposing monuments, along with their contributions to Olympia City. Kimberly shivered in their shadows, each one at least four times her own height. She had, no doubt, found Cemetery Square.

However, her ominous awe was soon replaced with excited triumph. Directly across the square stood a massive building of shining onyx. Its glassy walls reminded her of the pieces of obsidian she used to find on the shores of a lake when she was a child. She’d finally come to the place she was looking for.

The towering entrance doors were propped open, and a steady stream of people filtered in and out. She joined the current, allowing it to carry her inside a cavernous room, carpeted in crimson velvet, with walls and ceilings of white marble. She stared wide-eyed at countless labeled archways. Resting Place Relocation, one said, Reincarnation Center, said another, and another, Afterlife Transition Therapy. The crowds of people sorted themselves accordingly, dispersing through the archways, as Kimberly was pushed deeper into the building. Finally, she saw the entryway to the department she was looking for: Recently Deceased Processing Agency.

As soon as she entered, she was given a numbered ticket and ordered to take a seat in the crowded waiting room. Almost every one of the hard, brass chairs were filled. She was forced to sit between a woman who was loudly weeping, and a man who was puffing away at a cigarette. She hugged her bag close and stared ahead.

“I thought this was heaven!” the crying woman wailed. “It’s supposed to be paradise, eternal happiness, but it’s misery!”

The smoking man laughed, blowing stinky clouds Kimberly’s way. “Lady, this ain’t heaven. There ain’t no such thing. Just a life after life. The Afterlife, ya get it?”

She pulled out a hanky and blew her nose before glaring at him. “Oh yeah? If there isn’t heaven, then how come there’s hell?”

“Ain’t no hell, either,” the man scoffed, taking another long drag before exhaling. “Just punishment. Just like in life, in the Afterlife, you pay for your crimes, whether you committed them when you were alive or afterward.”

Kimberly suddenly felt ill. She desperately scanned the room for another open seat, but none could be found.

“Then why is my Harelson being punished, huh?” the woman asked, leaning over Kimberly and shoving a finger in the man’s face. “He’s my soulmate! I’ve waited here, alone, for so long to be reunited with him! You’re supposed to spend eternity with your soulmate once you’re dead!”

“Lady, you think I know why you’re boyfriend ended up in the Farm? He was probably just a terrible person all his life.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette on the floor before pulling out another and sparking it up. “And there ain’t soulmates, too.”

The woman began wailing louder than ever. Kimberly couldn’t take it anymore.

“How long is the wait here, usually?” she asked, hoping for a change of subject.

The man shrugged. “Could be an hour, a day, a week. Who’s to say.”

Kimberly sagged in her seat.

There is a hell, and I’m sitting in it right now.

Luckily, her wait was closer to an hour than anything else. Her number was called, and she was guided down a long hallway to a wooden door. Inside, she found a bespectacled woman sitting at a desk. The woman introduced herself as Yasmine and asked Kimberly to take a seat opposite her.

“So, Kimberly, why have you come all this way to see us at the R.D.C.?” Yasmine asked.

Kimberly quietly pulled the letter out of her pocket and unfolded it once again. “Because of this.” She held it out to Yasmine. “I sent in a request concerning my sister, Joanna, and I received this notice, instructing me to come here.”

“Let’s see,” Yasmine took the letter and peered at it over the tops of her glasses. “Yes, alright.” She turned to a hulking piece of machinery that sat atop her desk and began clacking away at its metal buttons. Gears and springs moved noisily within until she pulled a lever and a stack of papers shot out through a slot in the wall, accompanied by a ding.

“Here we are,” Yasmine said, picking up the stack and shuffling through the papers. “Yes, yes, I understand. So your younger sister, Joanna, has recently left the world of the living and ended up as an atonement worker on the Farm, but you wish to dispute her placement. You believe she doesn’t belong on the Farm?”

Kimberly nodded vigorously. “There’s been some sort of mistake. Joanna certainly wasn’t perfect, but neither was I. She’s not a bad person. She belongs with me, not serving out some sentence of restitution. I know she—”

“I’m sorry,” Yasmine dropped the papers and shook her head. “But it doesn’t seem like any mistake has been made. While you were still among the living, indeed Joanna was a decent enough person to earn her own Resting Place here. But it’s been a very long time since you left her behind. A lot has happened since then. She’s done many things that she must pay for, now.”

A wave of ice washed over Kimberly, freezing her to the chair. She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to. Joanna, her little sister, was good.

“Please,” she said softly. “The letter said to bring evidence. I have it here, in my bag.”

Yasmine eyed her warily. She sighed, pushing the stack of papers aside. “Fine. Let’s see it then.”

She popped open her bag and pulled out the wooden hairbrush.

“This is the brush she used to braid my hair every night,” Kimberly explained, smiling down at it. “My hair always ended up messy and knotted because I was terrible at taking care of it. But, every night before we went to bed, Jo would take the time to brush out my hair and braid it, so that it would look nice the next day.”

She looked up at Yasmine to find a bored expression on her face. Quickly, she pulled out the smooth rock.

“This is one of the stones that I used to teach Jo how to skip rocks one summer at the lake. In just a few tries, she was already better than me. But she didn’t rub it in. In fact, she would pretend to be bad and would only skip them farther than me when I wasn’t looking, so my feelings wouldn’t get hurt.”

Yasmine glanced at her wristwatch. Kimberly felt sick to her stomach as she pulled out the final item: the worn pair of red heels.

She stared down at them for a long moment, running her hand over the scuff marks. Unwelcome tears welled in her eyes.

“These were the shoes that I bought to wear to the school dance, but I broke my leg just a few days before and didn’t end up going. As soon as my leg was healed, Jo threw a party at our house so that I could go to my own dance and wear my heels. I was so thankful, I let her have them. After that, I would catch her dancing alone in her room, wearing the heels. She told me they were her most prized possession.”

Yasmine pursed her lips and pushed her glasses up her nose.

“Listen, that’s all really sweet stuff, and I can see that you love her, but your sister just wasn’t the same person after you died. She did bad things, things she has to pay for before she can be forgiven. I just don’t see her realistically being released from the Farm, not until she’d paid her debt. And that won’t be for a very, very long time.”

Kimberly leaned forward and gripped the edge of the desk. “Please. Take my evidence into consideration. Go through her file again. She wasn’t perfect. But she doesn’t deserve this.”

Yasmine stared down at the stack of papers apprehensively.

“Oh, alright,” she sighed.

Kimberly nearly fainted with relief.

“But I can’t promise anything,” Yasmine continued. “Your sister’s actions will just have to speak for themselves.”

Kimberly thanked her profusely before leaving. In a daze, she walked back through the building, back down the streets of Olympia, back to the train platform. She may as well have been the only one on the train on her long journey back. She didn’t see a single other person around her. Her thoughts were only of her sister.

Would she see her again? Would she still be the same, bright girl she’d left behind so long ago?

She walked down the wooded path from her Resting Place home to the mailbox every day after that, desperately awaiting news of her sister. But none came. The days stretched on into weeks, but she refused to admit defeat, though her hope gradually drained away.

Finally, one morning she was too tired and too lonely to walk to the mailbox alone. She sat in her kitchen, sipping at a cup of tea, but she didn’t taste a single drop. Then, suddenly, a gentle knock came from the door.

“Hello?” a muffled voice called from outside.

She sat still for a moment, confused. Who could be visiting me? What could this be about?

She stood, but before she could get to the door, it swung open, sending a fresh breeze blowing through the house.

Kimberly froze, staring at the figure in the doorway. Her face split with joy, eyes filled with tears.

“Jo,” she whispered breathlessly. “You’re here.”