Soul Insurance

by Glenn Bullion

  Brooke thanked him and left the office. Mixed emotions attacked her as she walked back to her desk. Excitement, fear, joy, anxiety. She took a deep breath as she sat down and wondered how she was supposed to focus on paperwork the rest of the day.

  Amber rolled her chair back and rested her elbows on Brooke's desk.

  "What happened? Everything okay? Are you in trouble?"

  "Not exactly."

  *****

  Brooke hovered over the stove and flipped the grilled cheese sandwich in the skillet. She pulled a plate out of the cabinet and poured potato chips on the side. The apartment door opened behind her, and she turned to see Amber pulling her heels off and setting them in the corner.

  "You're lucky," Amber said. "Right after you left a claim came in, kept me there another hour."

  "Aww. Poor Amber. You want a grilled cheese?"

  "No, thanks. I'm actually just changing clothes and going out to meet Paul. He does have a cute friend, if you're interested."

  "I'll pass. I've had enough of cute guys for a while."

  Amber smiled. Brooke had filled her in on her visit with Connor.

  "You mean the cute crazy guy? The crazy ones are the best."

  Brooke ate on the couch while she listened to Amber yelling and throwing clothes in her bedroom, searching for that perfect outfit. Brooke tried not to laugh as she turned on the TV. Amber and Paul had no doubt already saw each other naked. What did the perfect outfit matter?

  "Does this look okay?" Amber asked. She stood in front of the couch and held out her arms. "I'm going for simple and fun."

  "You look great. Calm down."

  "Thanks." Amber sat on the couch next to her. "Hey, what was up at work today? What did Wesley want?"

  Brooke hesitated. She wasn't sure how Amber would react, but knew she couldn't keep her friend in the dark.

  "He wants me to work in sales."

  Amber's face lit up. "That's great! More money, you'd be able to dress up nice, wouldn't be stuck behind a desk. What did you say?"

  "I told him I'd think about it."

  "Well, what do you think?"

  "I don't know. I'm not really the sales type, but he says that's exactly what he wants. Could you really see me driving around, trying to sell soul insurance to people?"

  "I could definitely see it. I keep trying to tell you. People like you, Brooke. All you have to do is put yourself out there a little. You wouldn't even have to sell, they'd just want to buy it from you."

  "I like what I do, though. It's simple and easy. No stress, no pressure."

  She shook her head. "You won't take the job."

  "I'm still thinking about it."

  "Sure you are, whatever."

  Brooke scowled at her friend. "What's going on, Amber? You've been weird these past few days, ever since Saturday night at the club."

  "I haven't been weird."

  "Yes, you have. It's like you're looking down your nose at me or something."

  "I'm just trying to get you to loosen up a little. You never do anything, Brooke. You won't dance crazy with me. You won't get drunk. I had a great time with some guys, and you wouldn't come with me. You could have been naked and screaming with a man over top of you, but nope, not you."

  Brooke blinked in surprise. The last thing she expected was to have to defend herself from Amber.

  "Well, let's see. I dance all the time. I love dancing and having a good time. I just don't do it on a bar with a hula-hoop. The last time I got drunk I had a hangover I thought would kill me. And sex with someone I don't know in some other guy's apartment…no. I tried to do the Amber trick of talking to a strange man, and believe me, he was too strange for me."

  "Okay, forget all that crap. You have a chance to do something different here. God, I would jump all over a chance to get out of that office and be in sales. But you just won't do it."

  "I haven't decided yet. I might."

  Amber took a breath and stood up, straightening out her shirt. "I have to go. I might stay over Paul's. I'm not sure yet." She crossed the living room and had one hand on the doorknob when Brooke stopped her.

  "You're not just mad at me for being boring. What's up?"

  "I never called you boring. I just—"

  "Amber. Come on."

  Frustration settled on her face, and Brooke thought for a moment she might cry. "I'm dealing with some other crap. So just ignore my mood. I'm really sorry, Brooke."

  "It's okay."

  "I'll tell you about it soon."

  "I'll be here."

  Amber left the apartment, leaving Brooke alone on the couch. She munched on potato chips while searching for something to watch. A small smile touched her face as she found the ballgame. She'd never actually been to the park.

  Evening turned to night as she relaxed. Her thoughts were scattered all over the place. Thoughts of work meshed with Amber's attitude, and she found it hard to separate them.

  Amber had been angry at Brooke before for the very same reasons. The night they graduated from high school Amber wanted to go out and drink until she couldn't remember her name. Brooke joined her, but not in the drinking. She tried her best to keep Amber under control, only for Amber to give her the same lecture about loosening up and having fun.

  It seemed like Amber was always trying to mold Brooke to be more like her. Brooke liked who she was. She didn't need to dance on bars or have sex with men she didn't know to be more comfortable with herself.

  But Amber was right about Wesley's offer. Brooke didn't know if she wanted to do it.

  She was afraid. Stepping into unfamiliar territory where she could fall on her face, the thought terrified her. What if she joined the sales team and was horrible at it? Part of her success in dealing with Saturday's emergency was pure luck, and Isabel. The eighty-year-old woman was amazing, and would no doubt make anyone that spent time with her look good.

  However, she wondered what it would be like to visit hospitals, schools, companies, and educate everyone about soul resurrection. The extra pay certainly wouldn't hurt either. She'd be able to meet new people, get out more, basically everything Amber said she wasn't doing now.

  She paced throughout the apartment off and on all night. As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, Amber's words hurt her a little. If she accepted Wesley's offer she wanted it to be for the right reasons. She wanted to prove to herself that she could do something different, not Amber.

  Brooke opened her bedroom closet. She tried to imagine it full of nice dresses that she wore for work, making a difference in people's lives and extending their age.

  It was nearly eleven o'clock, and her mind was still a mess. She tried to distract herself by watching a horror movie, but knew she needed to go to bed if she wasn't going to be a zombie at work the next day. It was a warm night, and she elected to sleep in the lightest nightgown possible. She set her glasses on the nightstand and touched her favorite stuffed bear on the head, like she always did.

  It took time to fall asleep, and her last thought was she would accept Wesley's offer.

  *****

  Brooke woke up to a female scream. Her sleepy brain imagined Amber was having sex in her room. It wouldn't have been the first time Amber got a little too carried away late at night and interrupted Brooke's sleep. The scream turned into urgent tones between two people, and Brooke realized the voices were coming from the apartment beneath her. She finally woke up completely, and remembered Amber wasn't even home.

  She sat up in bed, and that's when the scent touched her nose. Something was burning.

  Throwing the sheet off, she ran across the bedroom into the hall. Her mouth fell open as she peered into the living room. The entire room was covered in flames. The couch, walls, dining room table. She heard more people screaming. The couple in the apartment next to her, the old man across the hall.

  She felt the heat from the couch as she ran across the living room. Pain surged through her palm as she grabbed the doorknob. Cradling her scalded
hand, she glanced toward the balcony doors. There were too many flames blocking the path. She wouldn't be able to make it to the balcony without getting hurt herself. Simply standing near the front door was getting uncomfortable.

  She went back the way she came and ducked into Amber's room. The window over Amber's bed was large enough to jump through. Knocking aside the various knick-knacks and pictures, Brooke struggled to open the window. Her hand throbbed in agony; she could barely move her fingers. Panic took over and tears ran down her face as the window refused to budge. She turned to find something heavy, and her eyes went wide at the sight of flames in the hall outside the door. She was trapped.

  Her gaze fell on a five-pound dumbbell Amber used in her workouts. She gripped it with her good hand and threw it at the window. The glass shattered, and she heard confused shouts from below. Using the hem of her nightgown, she knocked out the remaining glass. She tried to be careful, but still cut her hand.

  Brooke could feel the heat at her back.

  Both familiar and strange faces looked up at her. A crowd was growing with both the living and souls. One spirit flew past her, startling her. People had left the other apartment buildings and stood on the grass outside. She could see people running out the front door into the waiting arms of the crowd. A man stepped forward and waved his arms.

  "Brooke! Is that you up there?"

  It was Mr. Taylor, a nice man who lived on the first floor with his dog.

  "Yeah, it's me! I need help!"

  "The fire department's coming. Are you safe where you are?"

  Brooke frowned at the silly question. She turned to see fire slowly making its way into the room.

  "Not really."

  Mr. Taylor spoke to some of the men around him. They seemed to be discussing options, but the talks ended in confused shrugs. She glanced out the window at the ground below, trying to figure out how badly a third-floor fall would hurt.

  Glass broke in one of the first floor apartments near the front door. Some of the crowd moved to help a woman trying to crawl through her kitchen window. Mr. Taylor looked up before joining the crowd.

  "Stay there, Brooke."

  She'd never been so afraid in her life, but couldn't resist. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

  The crowd forgot her as they tended to the woman. Brooke's back began to burn from the heat. She turned to see the fire was in the room now, near the foot of the bed. If she was going to live she'd have to do something herself.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she climbed up on the windowsill. She'd have to hang outside as much as she could until the fire department arrived. Her eyes were locked on the ground below. She wondered if hanging and dropping would be an option. Broken bones were a better alternative than death.

  Her lungs began to hurt as she coughed. Brooke was a small woman, only one hundred twenty pounds, but maneuvering was difficult. Her nightgown caught on the window, and she grabbed it with one hand to pull it free. Her bare foot stepped on a piece of glass. She shouted in pain and lost her hold on the windowsill.

  She didn't scream on her way to the ground. The building rushed by her, and the last thing she saw before smacking the ground was the night sky above. The moon was beautiful. Smoke from the burning apartment building and souls in the sky created an interesting visual. She thought she heard voices, but couldn't be sure. Her neck hurt, only for a moment, before everything faded away.

  It took all of Brooke's strength to roll over onto her stomach. The pain in her hand, foot, and neck was gone. She crawled forward, away from the apartment building, keeping her eyes focused on the grass beneath her.

  "Brooke fell!" someone shouted. "Brooke! Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," she said. "Just out of breath."

  "Oh my God! Brooke!"

  She continued to crawl until she felt footsteps around her. She stopped and frowned when the footsteps were a little too close, and the group of people that ran past didn't bother helping her.

  "Can you hear me?" someone asked behind her. "Brooke!"

  "Yeah, I can hear you. No reason to shout. And thanks for the hand, by the way."

  She struggled to stand, her knees unsteady for a moment. Confusion took over when no one grabbed her, helped support her, nothing at all. Finally, she heard a fire engine in the distance.

  "About time."

  People continued to talk behind her.

  "Did anyone see what happened?"

  "I was trying to get Mrs. Freeman out of her apartment."

  "Look at her neck. I don't think…."

  "I already said I'm fine," Brooke said. "Are you listening—?"

  The words died in her throat as she turned around. Mr. Taylor and a few others were gathered around someone lying on the ground in the spot where Brooke landed. She couldn't see the face, but saw the bare legs and part of the nightgown.

  The fire engine pulled up in the parking lot, along with three ambulances. Brooke watched as the chaos unfolded around her. Paramedics checked on families, firemen worked to put out the blaze. No one approached her at all.

  She noticed there were no souls. There were people in the crowd who had a slight glow to them, and were almost transparent. Her mouth hung open as an elderly transparent couple walked past her, sadly shaking their heads.

  "Such a shame, to die so young."

  It took her a moment to realize they were talking about her.

  "I'm not dead! Do you hear me? I'm not!"

  "Let's go, Harold," the woman said. "This is so sad. I don't want to be here."

  Brooke let out a gasp as the couple flew away. Her gaze was fixed on the path they took, over the apartments into town. She almost didn't hear Mr. Taylor behind her.

  "Over here!" he shouted. "We need some help!"

  She watched as two paramedics ran around her and knelt next to the body Mr. Taylor protected. Some of the crowd had cleared, and she had a better view. She recognized the auburn hair she brushed every morning, the medium complexion that never tanned. Her neck and leg were at an odd angle, her eyes staring up at the sky.

  "She fell out of her window," Mr. Taylor said. "Little Billy over there says she landed on her head, and he saw…her soul leaving."

  The two paramedics glanced at each other after a quick check of her pulse. They said nothing as one of them covered her with a sheet.

  "There's nothing we can do. You should come with us, sir."

  Brooke did nothing as the paramedics tended to the living. Mr. Taylor gave what little help he could, bringing water to people. She stared at the suddenly huge crowd, mixed with solid bodies and transparent apparitions. Some of the transparent people hovered in mid-air. Turning her attention back to the white sheet, emotion and nausea gripped her.

  "No! That can't be it. You have to try to bring me back. Call my father. He's a doctor, he'll know what to do."

  A few apparitions looked at her, only for a moment. One woman took a step in Brooke's direction, but changed her mind and stopped. Brooke fell to her knees. She didn't have any control of her body, and couldn't walk even if she wanted to.

  "I'm not dead," she repeated, over and over. "Someone help me."

  She rested her head on the ground. She ran her fingers gently over the blades of grass, and was surprised to see they didn't move at her touch. She stared at her hand, as if seeing it for the first time. It was transparent with a slight glow, just like some of the people around her.

  Brooke closed her eyes as all the voices around her disappeared, and went to sleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  Connor winced as he placed the last piece of luggage on the conveyor belt leading to the hold of the plane. He wiped sweat from his forehead and looked up at the sun beating down on him. It was a beautiful day, but another hot one. He had trouble telling the sun apart from some of the souls moving through the sky.

  "Are you okay over there?" Eddie, his coworker, asked. "It looks like you're getting your ass kicked."

  "My shoulder's just stinging a little."


  "I thought you said the blade missed the muscle and bone?"

  "Yeah, well, it still hurts."

  He waved at two children watching them from their seats inside the plane. A spirit was having harmless fun, singing a tune only Connor could hear as he weaved in and out of each window. Eddie climbed behind the wheel of the luggage cart and drove forward a few feet, laughing as Connor rushed to catch up.

  "Lunchtime, finally," Eddie said.

  "You still dating that girl that works in Starbuck's by the magazine place? Terri, right? You eating with her?"

  "Yup. That reminds me, you know Zoe that works there?"

  "Yeah."

  "She says she wants to see your stitches."

  Connor furrowed his brow as Eddie had a little too much fun in avoiding a spirit soaring in front of them. He gave Eddie a puzzled look as he parked the cart.

  "Why the hell does she want to do that?"

  "I think it's code for she wants you to do sexual things to her. There's your in. So don't say I never gave you anything. You want to hang with us at Starbuck's? I think Zoe's working today."

  "Nah, thanks. You know me. Not much of a coffee drinker."

  "Okay. I'll see you after lunch."

  Connor bought a ham and cheese sandwich with a soda and sat outside his favorite shop. There wasn't much foot traffic in the airport, mostly business travelers with the occasional family or two. There were plenty of spirits, which always amused Connor, considering they didn't need a plane to fly.

  The local news played on the large TV in the lounge area. A field reporter stood in front of a burned-down apartment building. A few souls moved in the background behind her, and Connor could only hope they weren't victims.

  He shook his head sadly as he slipped on ear-buds to listen to music. Sometimes the conversations of both the living and spirit worlds were too much to handle, and he listened to music as much as he could. He was in the middle of reading a magazine when the light of a soul stopped on the other side of the table.

  The soul hovered, unwavering, for ten seconds before Connor decided to risk a glance. He didn't think it was Ryan; he never visited him at work. Waving politely, he dipped his eyes back to his magazine, only to see the soul moving back and forth. He let out a sigh of disgust as he removed his ear-buds.