The Shepherd of Heaven and Hell

The hit was hard, hard enough to deploy the airbags. He had come out of nowhere, running the light and plowing into Felix’s red SUV. The driver’s side door was caved in and the front glass had become a spider web.

He was lucky to be alive.

He could feel something wet and warm running down the side of his face. Blood, he thought, from hitting my head. He felt no pain and remembered from somewhere that head wounds tended to bleed a lot, regardless of the severity. That made him feel better.

Sirens could be heard in the distance. Sirens meant help, and help was important. Felix tried to move, but couldn’t budge. Something had him pinned. Either that or he was paralyzed. Felix thought that likely when he tried to move his hands and got no response.

Please hurry, he thought.

The sirens came closer until they stopped, replaced by the chugging of a diesel engine. He could hear voices outside, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Something about tools. Felix sighed and wished they would hurry. The blood from his head was starting to concern him.

He heard something slam into his door and more shouting. The words they said were becoming increasingly jumbled, making them sound foreign. He was only a few blocks from home right? What was a foreign rescue team doing here?

As his door came off with a crunch, Felix could see flashing lights and men in tan and yellow. He was pulled from his car and placed on a stiff board. Felix tried to remember what that was called, but his mind wasn’t working right.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Once he was strapped onto the uncomfortable board with the uncomfortable device around his neck, he watched as the figures in tan and yellow checked him over. They touched his neck and wrist before standing and moving off. Only one came back, one figure who was very different than the others.

He wore black, which seemed oddly appropriate. Where the others had become misshapen blobs which spoke in gibberish, this man was clear. His black suit was immaculate and he wore a pair of black gloves. His face was young and his eyes black as night. Upon his forehead he bore a brand in the shape of a scythe.

“Who are you?” Felix asked. He was shocked when he realized his mouth hadn’t moved.

“I am your guide,” the man said, his voice seeming to come from nowhere. It was deep and hollow, a voice that shouldn’t be.

“Why do I need a guide?”

“The way forward is dangerous. Many beings inhabit the plane between mortality and the abyss, none of which you want to meet. I serve Death and aid him in his appointed task. Please, come with me.”

“But,” Felix began. He was about to protest, to voice his inability to move off the spine board when he noticed he wasn’t confined to it anymore. “Am I okay?”

“No. Please, follow me.”

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

The man with the midnight eyes turned to Felix and sighed. “Yes, you have left the mortal realm. You are in great peril here, in the void between worlds. Please, we must keep moving.”

“What kind of peril?”

“Demons stalk these lands, looking for those living who are sensitive to them that they may torment. When they come across souls that have crossed and fallen behind their guides, they devour the soul and send it to the abyss for all eternity. Please keep close.”

“Does that make you the Grim Reaper?” Felix asked.

The man stared at him. “What you know as the Grim Reaper isn’t like me. His name is Death and he is the Shepherd of Heaven and Hell. Those whose flame has flickered out are retrieved by his servants and brought to him, that he may render judgment.”

“Am I destined for Heaven or Hell?”

“That is for him to decide.”

Felix looked back at the ruin of his car, his mortal form on the ground now covered with a tarp and the firemen that were pulling a drunk from the other car. A tear rolled down his cheek and he turned, leaving all of it behind.

“Lead on.”