by Brian Osburn
do you mean?” asked Friedberg while noting that every muscle in Zhen's body was as wound up as a rubber band.
“I was right about death, Ben.” Zhen turned his gaze to the horrified countenance of Friedberg. “I was right Ben. There is nothing out there! There's nothing out there at all!” he exclaimed.
Many years later, Dr. Zhen was ready to die for good. His palatial home that he had purchased from the royalties earned from the sale of his numerous books had become his hospice.
His books on the absence of life after death had sold millions. For years now, Zhen had been the bane of every religious faith on earth. His books had caused the start of numerous suicidal cults around the world. There was one cult in particular that took the lives of five-thousand men, women, and children. Many people were glad to know that he was finally dying.
A staff of nurses cared for him around the clock. Of course, they were there only to see to his comfort. Zhen was dying for real, and nothing was going to stop that.
It was on the last day of Zhen's life that a much older Dr. Ben Friedberg happened to show up for a visit to his old college professor. He was a heavier man now, and his hair had fully turned to silver. As he was brought in, the nurses excused themselves from Zhen's room. Friedberg settled in for a quiet chat with his one-time mentor. “Professor, how are you feeling?”
“I feel terrible, Ben. But I'm glad that all this is about to blink off for me.”
Friedberg tried to manage a smile, but it was more like a wince. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled the following sentence. “Professor, I need to tell you something important. You didn't die before.”
Zhen, who could barely see through swollen, red eyes, turned and faced Friedberg, who was gently nodding. The look on Zhen's face was one of complete confusion.
“It's true,” continued Friedberg. “You didn't die. I didn't kill you. All we did was put you out with anesthesia.”
“But no, you didn't...”
“Yes, Professor. I came here today to tell you the truth after all these years. You never died before. It was all a hoax.”
“But...why?” Zhen managed to hiss.
“The truth is I really didn't think I could bring you back at that time. I didn't want to take the chance with your life. In the end, the techniques were sound, and I've become a wealthy and important man because of its success. I just wanted to come and tell you the truth, and to thank you for having given me the opportunity to discover the secrets of bringing people back from the dead.”
Zhen's mind was fine; it was his body that was dying. And in that instant, Zhen hated Friedberg as much as he had hated anyone; including the drunken city-councilman who had killed off his family. His final, awful wish was that Friedberg would be the one to die today.
That moment of realized hatred passed away quickly and was replaced by stark fear and dread. Friedberg's revelation meant that Zhen was clueless about death. Where once existed a calm ocean of assured knowledge inside of Gilbert Zhen, a boiling cauldron of doom and fear now erupted.
A single tear fell from his eye and he drew in his last breath. The tear was shed in absolute terror and fear. His whole body shuddered for just a second as Zhen fought to live on, but he failed to do so. His last memory was the blank expression of his former student staring at him as he died.
Per his instructions, Zhen's ashes were interred with those of his wife, Betty, his son, William, and his daughter, Toni. No one save for a funeral home employee was in attendance when Zhen's ashes were placed in the vault with the other three containers within. Zhen's parents had long since died themselves and he had no brothers or sisters. He had no friends. Zhen had lived his miserable life as alone as if he'd lived in a prison's solitary confinement cell. No one cared that he had lived, and no one cared that he had died. Not even Dr. Ben Friedberg made an appearance at Zhen's entombment.
The funeral home employee turned the key to the small vault to lock it and then placed a new bronze plaque over the door to forever seal it. The plaque now showed the name of Gilbert Zhen along with those of his family. Once again, they were together and this time, it would be for eternity; but they would be together only as urns of ash.
It was ironic that even though Zhen had been tricked and had never died before, in the end, he was proven right; at least for him as an individual. He did blink off when he died, but not because that was the only option in the afterlife that was available. No, Dr. Zhen blinked off because he was full of hatred. He blinked off because he had never shown mercy or kindness. He blinked off because he did not have any faith in a conscious eternity.
For if Dr. Zhen had discovered faith, mercy, and unconditional love, he would have also discovered this fact; that his family continued to exist in a wonderful place and that his absence from them would provide the only disappointment they would ever know in their new life, a life he could have enjoyed himself for all eternity.
And had Zhen visited his family's vault more often at the cemetery while he was alive, he would have seen the analogy he presented to Friedberg years ago play out.
He would have noticed the ivy covered wall that stood behind their interment site. He would have seen that over time, the ivy steadily climbed the wall and yes, it could not break through to the other side.
But after time had passed, when the ivy reached the end of the wall, it was not the end of its journey.
It simply crawled over to the top to get to the other side.
“The Deaths of Dr. Zhen” is a short story by author Brian Osburn and is featured in the compilation work entitled “Tales of Fear, Fantasy, and Fiends – Volume 1.”
Search your e-Book retailer to read the other short stories “The Clone – In Vitro” and “The Juniperus Chronicles.”
Thank you for reading this work of fiction by Brian Osburn.