"Dead? How can I be dead?" He rolls his eyes and sighs in annoyance.
"You died, that's how you're dead."
"But how?" The sneer leaves his face and it's replaced with concern.
"You don't remember?" I shake my head. "Hm.. well, that's unfortunate. Usually you guys at least have some idea of what you were sent back to do. Snap shots of your Mission."
"Mission?"
"Yeah, your mission. Every Mission Angel is sent back with some sort of something they never did in their former life."
"This is too much. I don't even remember how I died, let alone what I'm supposed to do. Hang on, did you say Mission Angel? I'm an Angel?" He shrugs.
"Well yeah, what else did you think you were?"
"I had no idea." He groans and his shoulders drop.
"Now I guess I'm gonna have to be your Mentor. Great." He looks up. "Thanks a lot!" He looks back down and me and smiles. "May as well get started then. My name's Justin, but you can call me Justin. I make sure all you new Angels get on their way. What's your name?"
"Michael."
"Oh good, you remember. I was hoping I wasn't going to have to assign you a new name, too. I'm no good with that. One guy came by and didn't remember his. I named him Gregory and his named ended up being Larry. Can you imagine.. Larry?"
"Have you been doing this long?"
"Oh, sure! I'm the best the big guy's got down here. Okay, what do you say we visit your grave?"
"My grave?"
"Yeah, you died remember? Your funeral was last week. Kinda odd seeing as most people get their Mission as soon as they're dead. Anyway, let's go." I don't do anything and he raises an eyebrow.
"What do I do?"
"You don't even know how to Shift? I'm gonna have to teach you everything, aren't I? Okay, so to Shift you think real hard about the place you wanna go. In this case it's your grave. And then boom, you're there. It's pretty cool. Oh, but since you don't know where yours is I guess you're gonna have to ride with me. Grab my hand." I look at him like he's crazy but do as he says. The next thing I know we're standing next to a grave site. The stone says Michael Gabrielle Baker.
"So I really am dead." Justin takes his hand back.
"Sure, you think I was lying to you?" I shrug. "So you getting any of those snap shots?" I shake my head. Both to answer his question and in disbelief. "Well you should get some sooner or later. It usually has to do with people in your former life. Though sometimes not. Sometimes it could have to do with a decision you never made, or a wrong one that lead you down the wrong path. That makes it harder since you don't know any of the people you were sent back to help. This making any sense?"
I nod absently, not really listening. July 2012 - April 2032. I'm going to be 20 forever. I'm never going to age. "Hey so do you wanna walk around, go to what you're familiar with, see if anything pops up?"
"Sure, I guess." I follow Justin down a slight hill and through a big iron gate.
"Do you know where you lived?" I nod again. "Okay, well that's good at least. Oh, damn I'm such an idiot. I forgot to tell you, everyone can see you, but no one will recognize you, cause you don't look like yourself."
"What?"
"You're you, but not you, you know? Look, here's a window." I look at my reflection. "No one else can see me, so try not to talk out loud too much cause you'll look crazy. But it works cause I can kinda read your head."
"You can read my mind?"
"Sorta. Let me think. I can't read every thought, but if it's directed to me then I can hear it wherever I am. And I can talk back to you, too. Try it."
"What do I say?"
"Anything."
Okay... what day is it?
April 16th. Justin grins. "That's pretty cool. I've never got to do that before. Say something else."
Uh... how did I die?
You were driving your car in the middle of the night in a rain storm and ran off the road. Pretty dumb, if you ask me. What were you doing driving in a rain storm? I shake my head.
"I have no idea. Oh, oops." Justin grins.
"So what do you say we head to your house, see if anything there draws you?" I nod and follow him down the street, wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into now.
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