002: Transitional Dimension

Two

The whole bus erupts in a round of applause. 

I look around. “What's going on?”

“You will be assigned a spirit guide shortly,” the voice continues, paying no attention to my confusion. “But for now, sit.”

As soon as he says the word, I find myself already seated in the first seat on the bus. 

“Now that we have had the final addition to this dimension, we will begin the journey. I implore all you souls to remain seated throughout. If you have any questions, discuss with your guides. Again, remain seated. You cannot die any longer since you are all already on your way to death in the spirit world, but do take note that there are consequences if this ride is troublesome. This realm is your only chance of coming back to life in the mortal world, and if you attract those consequences, you will die.”

“Death?” I ask, mostly to myself. And to the voice, “What do you mean by 'I’m on my way to death'?”

“I advise you to save the questions for your spirit guide, Soul 113. They will be with you shortly.”

Dissatisfied with the answer I’m given, I shoot up from my seat. “No, no. I want answers now!” I know I sound like a brat, but I don’t care. Today’s been a nightmare, and I wish it’d just end already. I'm tired. “Tell me what you mean. Am I dead? Is this some sort of joke?” 

The people in the bus laugh. 

Why does everyone seem okay with this? Are they happy about being transported to a place they don’t know, in the middle of nowhere?

I begin moving to the front of the bus. There’s no damn driver, yet for some reason, the idiot speaking thinks the bus will move. Does he expect it to drive itself?

“Refrain from calling me names, Soul 113.”

What the hell? Did he just hear my thoughts?

“I did. And so did everyone else in this bus. You are no longer in your mortal bodies, and you now exist as your bare conscience. Hence, you cannot think, and everything you think is a thought is being said aloud. Now, sit.”

Once again, I’m somehow sitting without moving an inch. 

“If I have to repeat this instruction, you will fail to transition, Soul 113.”

“Nova,” I grumble, folding my arms, a sign that I’ve given up trying. 

I don’t know why he keeps calling me a number. My name is Nova. I prefer it to that stupid thing he keeps calling me, like I’m an animal in a farmer’s yard.

“I do not have a gender, Soul 113. You refer to me as they, or nothing at all.”

Oh, right. He can hear my thoughts. Still, he chooses to ignore my dislike of being referred to by a number.

“We have a mode of operation, in the transition realm, soul 113.” Okay, now I think he’s just calling me that to annoy me. “Of all the souls received this week, you seem to be the most stubborn, 113. I have to inform you that such an attitude will be of  no help in the tests ahead."

"Tests? What tests?"

I don’t bother asking aloud. What’s the point, if he’s still going to hear my thoughts anyway?

“To determine your continued existence in the mortal world, or your passing into the afterlife, the transition realm has a series of tests – obstacles, if you will – which every soul must overcome.” 

So I went from failing a test, to having to go through another one, which supposedly determines if I live?

How the hell did this become my life?

“Point of correction, Nova, this is not your life. It is your impending death,” a different voice suddenly says from somewhere above me. “If you pass the tests, then you live. If you fail... then you’re doomed to eternal damnation. Death, as you souls call it.”

The source of the voice is now beside me, and when I turn, someone is there. 

A faceless person, if I might add.

At the sight, a scream tears out of my lips before I can stop it. “What the fuck?” I clutch my chest, shocked and afraid.

“The gods greatly disapprove of you souls’ use of such unfiltered words,” is the response I get, instead of an apology for scaring the shit out of me. 

I inwardly scream that last bit out, so that he and whatever gods get offended. 

For some reason, it seems like they can’t hear the one thought I want them to. I hate them already. Every one of them. And I hate my friends for pulling this prank on me. 

“There is no need to hate your friends. This is not a prank," he says coolly. 

My lips turn downward. How did he?

"Your emotions show outwardly, Nova. I suggest you suppress having any.”

Of course, he hears that one part. 

But hey, at least he doesn’t refer to me as a number. 

I wonder why. 

“I am your spirit guide, Nova – though reluctantly,” I genuinely think that part was unnecessary, “Hence, I must establish as casual a relationship with you until you eventually die.”

I frown. “Why do you seem so excited by the thought of me dying?”

He goes silent for a moment, and I think I hear him sigh? I'm not sure. “We spirits do not have the capacity to muster any emotion. Especially not excitement.” He says the word like it’s bitter. 

With how closed off he is, I don’t try striking up a conversation anymore. I try not to ask questions, or even have any thoughts... even though they’re all very hard to do. 

I spend the bus ride trying to understand, and if it's even possible, accept that I might be in a coma, like the doctor had said. 

If that’s the case, and I’m stuck in this weird zone with a headless grump for the rest of my time here, I think I’ll just take the chance of standing and risking actual death. 

“Don’t even try that,” headless grump states. 

I turn to him, and I’m met with a set of the grayest eyes to ever exist – maybe. 

Startled by the sudden appearance of a head, I once again, scream.

Annoyance flashes in his eyes. “You make me want to guide you into the throes of eternal damnation, myself.”

His words barely register, as for the first time, my eyes take him in. 

His skin is pale and colorless, his eyes boring into mine like they can see through my soul – they literally can. His thin lips are a pale shade of pink, and his nose is perfectly pointed. His eyebrows are full and white, like the barely-there hair on his head, and there’s a scar running from above his left eyebrow to his left cheek. And his jawline... It’s the most defined jawline I’ve ever seen on a man, and I’m willing to bet it got so defined by his constant frowning. 

Whatever the source is, he looks like he belongs on the cover of a Vogue magazine, especially with how pale he is. I wonder if there’s a Vogue magazine in this world?

If there was, he’d own the front pages. 

He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. 

“Lusting after me is the quickest way to die, Nova. I’d appreciate it if you just focused on the tests ahead.”

Did I say he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid my eyes on? I take it back. His attitude makes him the ugliest being ever. 

“Keep that attitude up. Maybe you’d pass the first test that way.”

I don’t understand much about this place, but, “Aren’t spirit guides supposed to be in support of their souls? Or like them, at least?” Because from what I’ve gathered, I don’t think the talk about wanting me to die is a joke.

“Not necessarily.”

Wow. So hating me for no reason is valid? 

Not fair. 

He glances at me. Barely. “Be steady. We’re arriving at the realm of your first obstacle.”

As soon as he says so, a strong wind blows through the bus, pushing me flat against my seat. It lasts for a good minute or more, and in that time, I feel like I'm being pressed back by a strong force. 

It doesn't take rocket science to figure that he’d avoided telling me beforehand, so I wouldn't be prepared for the torment. 

Soon enough, the wind stops, and the door opens with a ping. 

Being the soul in the first seat close to the door, I’m pushed by the same force outside, and my feet land in the air. 

There are no grounds in the dark space, but for some reason, my feet are firmly planted on a surface. 

In a short time, the remaining one hundred and twelve souls are pushed out. When we’re complete and standing, a voice – different from on the bus – greets us. 

“Welcome, Souls, to the survival games.”