Reggie was bored out of his mind in limbo. The concept of time had lost all meaning somewhere in the endless expanse of past that stretched in the unknowable infinity between when he first died and showed up in this weird waiting room of death and whenever “now” was. That first minute, hour, day, year, whatever was full of f bombs and angry declarations of the essential injustice of mortal life. Reggie had, after all, taken a lot of very drastic and very disgusting steps in the minutes before his death for the specific purpose of avoiding limbo, and yet here he was anyway: dead as a doornail and zapped into this literal waiting room with glowing white walls and glowing hardbacked chairs and no magazines and no tv and no receptionist and no doors.
After calming down, Reggie discovered a limited ability to change the waiting room from its original barebones template format to something a little bit more manageable. He discovered this ability when he was getting a little sleepy on the first day and thought to himself that he wished there was at least a bed. That same second, a modest full-sized bed winked into existence in the corner, with fresh sheets and two comfortable looking pillows. He then quickly wished for a reclining chair, a flatscreen tv, and a gaming console that could play any game he wanted. Bing, bang, boom. Just like that, the waiting room situation was suddenly much less hellish than it had once seemed.
Reggie knew he wasn’t in heaven, and he wasn’t in hell either. He was in the in-between. Raised Catholic, he knew that limbo wasn’t the proper term for this in-between place. It was Purgatory. Had to be. That was the only other option as far as post-death destination points. Even still, this Purgatory had way more fringe benefits than he’d ever imagined when he was a kid going to mass and doing his duties as an altar boy.
He didn’t feel hunger, didn’t need to use the bathroom, didn’t feel pain. He could sleep, but it felt more like a choice than a requirement. For all intents and purposes, he had found himself in a spot of peace and quiet that felt much more like paradise than when he was in the middle of that hungry crowd of undead that swarmed him less than an hour before the end of his life.
As much as he enjoyed getting caught up on his gaming backlog with no distractions or other obligations, eventually boredom caught up with him. He couldn’t shake the nagging sense of wasting time or being wasted by time. Wondering how his friends were doing without him. Missing life. It all slowly trickled into his thoughts until he turned off the game system, got out of his chair, and started to walk around the perimeter of the room for the dozenth time to let his mind try to work through the situation.
There were no doors, or windows, or cameras in the corner, or prison bars, or safety glass like some macabre afterlife zoo exhibit. No vents for air circulation. No power outlets. No plumbing. No visible connecting points between his white glowing holding cell and anything beyond it. He walked back to his gaming corner and checked for a plug into the wall. Nothing. The system turned on and off just fine, but it wasn’t connected to anything other than the TV, which also lacked a power supply and also worked without an issue.
As he stood there scratching his beard and wondering about the rules of his new prison of comfort, he heard the slight squeak of door hinges and a familiar latching sound behind him.
Reggie spun around and saw a man standing just a few feet behind him, wearing a glowing white lab coat and looking at a clip board. The man stood in front of a door that had not existed on that wall ten seconds earlier. He twirled a pen in his fingers, then tapped the clip board playfully as he looked up and smiled at Reggie. Despite the warmth of the smile, and the reassurance of the medical uniform and the purity of the light glowing from his lab coat, Reggie felt a sharp and sudden pang of terror spread from the core of his heart throughout his body. He felt frozen in place.
The man smiled even wider, “Good evening, Mr. Edwards. Don’t be afraid. You’re safe here, for now. I mean you no harm.”
Reggie felt the terror inside him shrink back a bit, and his paralysis broke. “Where did you-?” fell out of his mouth. His own voice sounded foreign to him.
The glowing man replied, “I came from upstairs. Management sent me down here to touch base with you. I’m sure you have at least a few questions.”
“Try about a zillion, Dr. Glowstick,” Reggie cracked. The last bit of terror left his body when he rediscovered his sense of sarcasm. “To start with, who’s management?”
The man tilted his head in mild befuddlement. “Come now, I’m sure there aren’t too many candidates for the title ‘management’ in an environment like this. All those years of Mass and Catholic Sunday school growing up must have left some kind of impression on you.”
Reggie shook his head. The adrenaline buzz from the initial shock was wearing off. He squinted, “So you’re saying that management is God? As in, ‘God’ God? Don’t get me wrong, mister, doctor, whoever you are, but as nice as it is to have a little corner of entertainment to pass the time in this place, I always imagined that heaven would be more…um…heavenly.”
The man laughed, “Oh, this isn’t heaven.”
“So, what? Is it hell?”
“Is there any fire and brimstone here? Try again.”
“Purgatory?!” Reggie threw his hands up in exasperation.
“Close, but not quite. This is a waystation for misappropriated souls. It’s an in-between place. This is the realm where dreams happen, and where the consciousness of people rests when their body is in a coma, or if they are caught up in an epileptic seizure. You look a little weary. Why don’t we both have a seat?”
The man gestured, and Reggie looked behind him to see a new padded chair directly behind him that wasn’t there before the mysterious man showed up. He plopped down into the chair with a mixture of relief and numb acceptance.
“Alright, then,” said Reggie, “So you’ve been sent by God to touch base with me in a waystation for misappropriated souls that looks like the waiting room of my local dentist. You aren’t a doctor. You aren’t God. I guess that makes you an angel, although I always imagined your kind would have wings, or be covered in eyeballs or something.”
“Some angels are covered in eyes. Not all of us, though.”
Reggie looked up from the ground to see the angel smiling at him. He felt a little bit more strength come back to him. “I guess you’re one of the lucky ones then, huh? Ok Dr. Angel, what am I doing here? How long do I have to stay here? What does God want from me? I know I haven’t gone to confession in a few years but-”
“Eleven years,” said the angel, “and that’s not why you’re here. This isn’t a punishment, Reggie. Relax. You’re here because of what you did during that last hour before your body gave up the ghost. I’m here to give you a choice about where you want to go next, although I’m pretty sure we all know what you would decide if given the option.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you can move forward and stay dead, or you can return to your body in the near future.”
“Just like that?” asked Reggie, feeling suddenly suspicious.
The angel nodded.
Reggie thought about it for a moment. “If I go back, am I going to be a halfling zombie like President Chambers, or can I get brought all the way back to life?”
“What would you prefer?”
Reggie scoffed. “What I’d prefer is to have skipped the whole dying and being trapped in here thing in the first place. But if I’ve got a choice, I’d rather be brought back all the way.”
“The man upstairs thought you might ask for that. I’ve already got the approval to grant it. It’s going to take a step of faith on your end to be fully restored, but we’ll hash out the details later. I’m sure you’re already aware of this, but there are going to be more challenges and trials in store for you and your friends when you get sent back.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. I just got through almost three decades of that gauntlet y’all put together on planet earth. What bugs me the most about all of this is that I got taken off the playing board of life right when things were getting interesting.”
The angel blinked and asked, “A virus that causes a global pandemic of zombies is what you call ‘things getting interesting’?”
Reggie grinned, “Sure! What would you call it?”
“I’d call it what the man upstairs has called it from the beginning: the great and terrible day of the Lord. The zombie uprising is only the beginning, after all.” There was no trace of humor on the angel’s face.
Reggie felt a twinge of discomfort rise up in his heart. “Well, when you put it that way…Hang on are you trying to convince me to stay dead?”
“Not exactly. I’ve just seen countless generations of humanity come and go. I know mortal life is normally a mixed bag of good and bad. There are beautiful moments, and horrifying moments. Pleasure and pain. Peaks and valleys. During this global transition phase, the beautiful moments will be brighter and better than ever. At the same time, the pain, suffering, injustice, and evil will also get more potent than what you can probably imagine.”
Reggie frowned, “Look man, I appreciate your honesty, but I’d rather not hear all the details about whatever horrors might be beyond the zombie uprising. I know most people would rather move on than dive back into the apocalypse. I’m not most people. I want to get back to my friends and face whatever the heck is coming next alongside with them. You gave me a choice, and I’m sticking to it.”
The angel nodded, “Understood. As it happens, your friends are already working on a plan to help get you back. I’m going to give them a nudge in the right direction, and you should be out of here within the next day or so.”
“It’s just that simple?” asked Reggie.
The angel smiled again, “I don’t know if I’d call what’s happened to you, or your choice to dive right back into the apocalypse ‘simple’, but to each their own. You will have some work to do when you get back, but it won’t be anything too hard to handle, and you will have help from upstairs when help is needed. Unless you have any more questions, I’d like to go over some details of what you’ll need to do to bring your body fully back to life after you return, and also give you a general rundown of your assignment further down the road.”
“One last question, doc. Will I remember this conversation and this place when I’m back in my body?” asked Reggie.
“For the most part, this experience will fade into memory noise shortly after you get back. Similar to how many dreams can slip away seconds after you wake up. If you need to remember something, you will have help in bringing whatever you need back up to the surface of your conscious mind. Whether you remember or not, you will have help moving forward from others like myself who are working for the man upstairs to see his plan fully brought to fruition.”
The resistance is dead (the blog) 