Spoiler! :
“….I’m on the highway to Hell…” Anthony Solomon sang to himself as he trudged down the empty, open road.
Honestly, being dead was tiring.
And lonely.
And utterly boring.
God, there wasn’t a person in sight!
Solomon wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been dead, only that he’d watched as Raven and Alexander were poisoned in a gas chamber one moment, had seen the soldier behind him raise a gun to his head, and then –BAM! He’d waken up laying the middle of some DIRT ROAD in the middle of nowhere.
He had assumed that he had died, of course, so he’d gotten up and started walking, assuming, of course, that the damn road would take him somewhere.
As if.
Solomon snorted aloud.
So. Damn. Boring.
The unpaved road stretched on in front of him with no sign of an end.
Solomon turned his head to look at the grassy pastures to the side.
No cows.
For some reason, he’d been expecting cows. If he did see an animal, would that animal be dead, too? Would it know that it was dead?
Solomon took one step off the road and onto the grass.
The thrill he felt from breaking away from his routine was pathetic.
He took another step and started running out into the endless field of grass.
After a while, he flung himself onto the ground, panting. The road was nowhere in sight. He smiled at this and closed his eyes.
“What the hell are you doing down there?”
Solomon’s eyes snapped open and looked around to see the grassy fields were gone. He was lying in the middle of a wheat field instead. Sunlight blinded for a moment until someone moved in front of it.
Alexander Black stood, looking vaguely angelic with the sun shining behind his head.
“Alexi?” He said in shock, sitting up.
“Oh, very good,” Alexander retorted. He held out his hand and helped Solomon to his feet.
He was wearing his signature outfit –black boots, trench coat, and seventeenth-century style vintage white shirt, loosely tucked into black trousers with straps going over his shoulders to keep them up and crisscrossing against his back. With his long black hair that was braided, twisted, beaded, and wrapped in some places and hanging loose in others, he always reminded Solomon of a pirate.
Solomon looked around, still puzzled by the change in scenery, “Why-?”
“Death is partly made up of your imagination,” Alexander said.
“I wasn’t imagining a prairie.” Solomon made a face.
“No; I was,” Alexander replied lightly,
“So is this Hell or something? Can’t be Heaven if I’m here,” Solomon looked around.
Alexander rolled his eyes and sighed, “You’re still walking around in the crossing.”
“Come again?” Solomon raised his eyebrows,
“You could say that you haven’t entered the light, yet,” Alexander said.
“The light,” Solomon repeated, smirking, “The light. So I’m a ghost or something? Where’s Melinda? Is she going to help us cross?” he snorted.
“This isn’t ‘Ghost Whisperer’, you-” Alexander started,
“Okay, okay,” Solomon interrupted, still snickering, “So lead the way to ‘the light’, oh Wise One.”
Alexander glared, evidently not appreciating Solomon’s obnoxious behavior. He turned and walked through the field, toward distant hills.
Solomon trailed along behind him, “Is it just me, or do you get quieter in death?”
“You obviously become more talkative,” Alexander replied moodily.
“Well, the way I figure it, I never really said much when I was alive, so I might as well yap away now that I’m dead…”
Alexander didn’t reply and continued to wade through the tall stalks of wheat.
“So, what happened to you?” Solomon said conversationally, “I didn’t expect Department X to get so nasty and kill us all.”
“There were only three of us in the end. They probably figured, ‘why not kill them all?’” Alexander shrugged, “Purify the human race and all that…”
“Purify?” Solomon shook his head, “Department X funded the Super-Human Project!”
“Yes, well, let’s not dwell on the past, as they say, hm?”
They broke through the end of the wheat field and came to the foot of a grassy hill.
“How much further?” Solomon complained.
Alexander stared at the sky and refrained from answering.
“Honestly, I was expecting to see someone else. I mean, at least one person dies in the world every five minutes, right?”
Silence.
“Yeah, okay, maybe that’s not scientifically proven, but what about Raven? Wasn’t she with you?”
“Solomon,” Alexander hissed through his teeth, “Shut the hell up.”
“Why? Something happen to her?” Solomon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion immediately, “Or are we on the road to Hell, and she took a right at Heaven?”
“She already crossed over to the realm of the dead,” Alexander said, “I came back to get you, because I knew that you would get lost… and you did.”
Solomon barked out a laugh, “I never was good at finding things,”
“Well that’s why we’re dead, isn’t it?” Alexander said lightly.
“Whatever. Are we there yet?”
“Yes,” Alexander replied as they stopped at the top of a hill.
Solomon looked around, “I don’t see anything special,” He said, peering down the other side of the hill toward a vast stretch of more hills and grass.
Alexander’s face fell, “Nothing?”
Solomon blinked, “Am I supposed to?”
“It’s just right there,” Alexander pointed to the space in front of them.
“It’s a bit empty,” Solomon noted, “And too grassy… looks boring, actually,”
“You can’t see it,” Alexander stated quietly.
“Can’t see what?” Solomon asked fearfully,
“You’re holding on too much,” Alexander shook his head.
“What?”
“Let go,” he said, “Let go of life,”
“I’m not holding on!” Solomon cried, panicking, “I’m not holding –Alexi! Where’re you going?”
Alexander sadly regarded the man he considered his best friend. One of his legs had disappeared –as if he had stepped it through something, “Come back when you’re done, Anthony,” he said.
“Done with what?” Solomon demanded.
Alexander gazed at him steadily, “Living,” He replied, turning and stepping his other foot through space.
“ALEXI!” Solomon shouted as the man disappeared, “ALEXANDER!”
The land was quiet; Solomon was the only person there.
Falling to his knees, Solomon muttered, “I’m letting go… I’m dead. No more life… please, please!” He squeezed his eyes shut, “I want to go, too…”
Suddenly air rushed by his ears and he became of a throbbing pain in his chest. Solomon’s eyes flew open and he found himself lying in darkness.
It was freezing and something smelled terrible.
Moving stiffly, Solomon managed to reach up and brush his fingers over the pain in his chest.
His fingers came into contact with something sticky and wet, and he knew it was blood.
Solomon began to sit up. The pain from the wound the soldier had inflicted upon him hurt like Hell, but he managed anyway. He dragged himself toward a crack of light in the middle of the darkness off to the left. His hands touched wet stone floors and he was almost to the crack of light when he stumbled over something soft.
Solomon staggered to his feet, lunged over to the light and pushed open the door it was coming from. Light flooded into the room and Solomon blinked as he stared at the insides with shock.
It was a storage room –the mops and detergents on the shelves in the corner told Solomon this. The floor was covered in blood and bodies were strewn unceremoniously around.
The softness Solomon had come across earlier was Raven’s corpse. Nearby were Alexander’s … and Jamie’s … and Talia’s… and Jazz’s … and Lucas, Josephine, Gabriella, Cedric, and Jasper’s corpse…
Solomon choked back a strangled sob and looked down at himself. Red had soaked through his clothes and some places were even crusted with blood.
Why the hell was he still alive?
No longer able to support him, his knees suddenly buckled beneath him and he grabbed the wall for support as he slid to the ground.
“Hey! There’s someone over here!”
His vision began to blur as silent tears streamed down his cheeks and he didn’t respond as footsteps echoed down the empty halls and came closer and closer.
Someone grabbed his shoulder, “Are you okay? What’s your name?” a man asked.
“He’s bleeding; get a paramedic!” A woman nearby said.
“Oh Lord,” Someone else moaned.
“Christ,”
“They’re all dead,”
There was the sound of someone retching nearby and Solomon finally looked up.
About half a dozen armored men and woman surrounded him, but instead of wearing red and black, they simply wore black with huge block letters across their armor; FBI.
Solomon vaguely wondered where the Department X soldiers had all gone to before everything began to go black.
XXXXX
“His prognosis isn’t looking good, ma’am,”
“When should he be awake, doctor?”
“Did you hear me, agent? He’s low on blood and his had a bullet through his chest. It’s a miracle that he was still alive!”
“He’s super-human, of course he was still alive. And what do you mean he’s low on blood? He’s been here for hours already,”
“His blood type is AB-negative. We don’t have enough blood for him,”
“Then give him O!”
“…”
“Alright. Fine. But the moment he’s awake –you call me.”
XXXXX
Solomon opened his eyes to find himself face to face with a dark-haired woman.
“Josephine?” He croaked.
The woman leaned back and he saw it was not the uptight yet temperamental woman that he once knew, but…
“Ebany Black. I’m her younger sister. Older than Gabriella, though,” the woman smiled and Solomon found it odd that she looked so much like Josephine, yet had Gabriella’s bright smile.
The smile faded and Ebany leaned in, “Solomon, you are living strictly on the edge of death. The possibilities of you waking up again after you return to your sleep aren’t very high. I used a little bit of magic to wake you up, now, so I need you to help me. Quickly, now.” She said, taking a manila folder out. She opened it and then handed him eight photos, “I need you to properly identify these people. Tell me everything you know about them, starting with their names, age, and
date of birth. Don’t worry, I already filled out Gabriella’s and Josephine’s.”
Solomon looked down at them, “Lucas White… age, uh, twenty-one… borne in 1943…”
“Uh, huh,” Ebany nodded and scribbled fiercely on a notepad, “Keep going,”
“Jamie Mystique Sorrow, twenty five, borne June 19, 1991…”
“Good,” Ebany murmured.
“Her favorite color is blue, by the way.”
“Huh?” Ebany looked up,
“Never mind,” Solomon went on to the next photo, “James Allen Martin, nineteen, borne 1891, I think…” He went through everyone like that until he came to Alexander’s picture. He frowned, “Rakshyajasper Alexondires Les Anseares Blackamaire,” He said.
Ebany looked up once more, “Sounds foreign. How do you spell it?”
He gave her the spelling and said, “It’s not foreign where he comes from.”
“Where does he come from?”
Solomon blinked, “He said his Father was Death and that he was the first man created in his world. He’s from another dimension.”
“Okay,” Ebany raised an eyebrow, “So how old is … Rock-sh-i-ah-jasper-”
“Alexander. Just call him Alexander.”
“Okay, how old is he?”
Solomon looked out into space, “I don’t know,” He stared back at her, “Are we done? I’m… tired,”
“Of course. You’ve been a great help.” Ebany stood up and took the remaining photo from Solomon.
He began to close his eyes when she suddenly said, “Wait! Tell… tell my sisters I love them, okay? Please?”
Solomon made his eyes focus on Ebany Black and noticed that her eyes looked watery, “Sure,” he said. It came out
as a mumble.
His eyelids drooped close and darkness surrounded him.
And then he wasn’t in the dim hospital room anymore, but rather, he was lying at the top of a grassy hill.
Solomon groaned and sat up. He felt excellent; refreshed!
He got to his feet and looked around.
Then he saw it; that light he had coveted so much. It glowed steadily in an almost hypnotizing way, inviting him forward. A slow smile spread across his lips and he closed his eyes, stepping into the light.
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