Eric Expired

 

Eric was dead. There was no two ways about it. He was no longer part of the living. He had left the proverbial mortal coil and passed over the rainbow bridge. Eric had expired. Much to his surprise though, death wasn’t the end of the line.  Eric had never been particularly religious, and an afterlife was something he hadn’t even considered, and yet here he was.  It wasn’t the most dignified of deaths and looking back it was probably quite funny.  Being run over by a minibus full of clowns was something that happened to someone in a sitcom. But it happened to Eric. As the bus hit him, he felt himself flying through the air, waiting for the jolt as he landed, but it didn’t come.  He seemed to just hang in the air, sort of floating like a bad smell, as his mum used to say.  At first, he thought he was dreaming, maybe he had fallen asleep on the bus and now he was stuck in a weird nightmare. But when the ambulance turned up and carted away the remains of Eric Monroe, he began to wonder what was happening. Like all good stories, someone turned up to explain things, and in this case, it was Eric’s Great Aunt Ophelia. After a lecture about the dangers of the motor vehicle and how she had warned everyone, it would only end in tears, she had explained the whole afterlife situation and told him all about the benefits package and the pension rights, and where he was now expected to live. Eric didn’t listen.  He was struggling to take it all in. He still had a library book to take back, and tickets to a concert in June. It hadn’t occurred to him at the time, that he could get into any concert he liked now he no longer existed.

And so here he was, sitting on the edge of the stage of the London Palladium, listening intently to another adaptation of a Lloyd-Webber classic. It wasn’t very good, but it was like having a cinema card, you just went to see anything that was on when you were bored.  And Eric was bored. His mind drifted back over the last few years, how long was it now? That’s the trouble with eternity, it was hard to remember how long you had been there.  He was supposed to have regular meetings with Great Aunt Ophelia, as his sponsor she was responsible for helping him through everything and keeping him on the straight and narrow. But mostly she forgot. When he did see her, she gave him a lecture and he mostly tuned her out. It was a family thing, he told himself. He had learned a lot more from Martin Frobisher, the headless magician he had met not long after what he liked to call ‘the clown incident.’  At first, he had assumed Martin was some sort of soothsayer from the sixteenth century who had lost his head after displeasing some King or other. Turned out he died in 1986 after a stage trick went a bit wrong. Still, Martin was funny, and it turned out he knew a lot about the afterlife. Who cared if he was a rubbish conjuror?

As Eric’s mind drifted back to the present, he soon became aware of the silence on the stage behind him and the people in the auditorium standing around gasping and pointing. He sat up to see what was going on just as a girl appeared in front of him, sobbing her heart out. She was dressed head to toe in black, black jeans, black jumper, a black jacket, and black motorcycle boots.  Even her hair was black. Eric could see by the faint transparency to her form, and the fact she seemed to be floating six inches above the ground that she was a kindred spirit as it were.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

‘I…don’t…know…’ she said between sobs. ‘What happened to me?’

‘Umm.’ Said Eric, a little unsure what to say for the best. As with all members of the male sex when faced with a crying female, he was slightly embarrassed and clueless as to what to do. ‘What do you remember?’

‘I was looking over the balcony, singing along to the music. Then I was here, and all these people seem to be just standing around pointing.’  As she said that two ambulance men lifted a stretcher carrying a body shrouded in a cloth began walking up the aisle towards the door.

‘Oh, has someone died?’  the girl asked.

‘I think you better sit down.’ Eric said. ‘I’ve got some bad news for you.  I hope you don’t have any library books to take back.’

An hour later, the theatre was empty, and the girl had finally calmed down and stopped crying. Eric had tried to explain but he wasn’t very good at it, and besides, the girl wouldn’t stop howling.  In the end he just sat there and waited for it all to calm down. And anyway, surely someone would turn up and explain things properly soon. That’s what was supposed to happen.  You step through the veil, some old dead aunt pops up, explains everything and carts you off to see Mr Peters. Before you know it, you’re sat in front of the TV watching your favorite soap.  But no one had turned up yet.

‘I’m Eric, by the way.’  Eric said, sticking out his hand.

‘Katie.’ Said Katie, shaking him firmly then snatching her hand away as the little blue spark shocked her. ‘Ouch, what was that?’

‘Oh, that’s something quantum, I think.’ Eric said, frantically trying to remember what aunt Ophelia had told him. ‘It happens when two of us touch. You get used to it.’

Katie looked skeptical as she rubbed her hand. ‘So, what happens now?’ she asked.

‘Well, usually someone turns up to escort you to Mr Peters.’  Eric said looking around hopefully.

‘Mr Peters?’ Katie asked.

‘Yes, he’s sort of an official, I think.  He records everything and tells you where you can go and checks you’re who you say, and stuff.’

‘Oh. So, are you taking me to see him?’

‘Well, its supposed to be a family member, I think. Someone you are related too.’

‘Well, there’s only mum, and she’s on holiday in Benidorm with Jason.’  Katie said.

‘It needs to be someone on this side really. What about your grandparents?’  Eric asked.

‘East Finchley. At the Happy Palms Retirement Village.’

‘OK so probably a great grandparent then, or someone.’  Eric looked at his watch. It was a habit he hadn’t managed to break since his watch still said 11.45, the time of the clown incident.  ‘It’s been a while though. I should probably get going actually. There’s a movie I wanted to see at the Odeon, I might make it in time.’

‘Oh.’ Katie looked crestfallen, her lip began to tremble, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t want to stay on my own.’  She said.

Eric was stuck on the horns of a dilemma. On the one hand, he really did want to see the movie, on the other he didn’t want Katie to cry again.  It hadn’t been a pretty sight.  Maybe he could hop her over to Mr Peters and leave her there. Someone would know what to do with her. Probably.

‘Well, I suppose I could take you. Probably wouldn’t hurt.  Someone will know what to do with you in Avalon no doubt. Come on then.’

He led Katie over to the corner of the auditorium and stood in the shadows.

‘Stand and face the wall.’ He said.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Because that’s how we travel.’

‘Is there a door here?’ Katie asked, running her had over the wall. ‘Is it one of those secret door things, leading to a passage? Are there secret tunnels all over London?’

‘No. It’s just easier in the dark. It’s a quantum thing.’ He said, frantically trying to remember Aunt Ophelia’s lecture on travel through the ether.

‘You don’t really know a lot, do you?’  Katie said, looking more skeptical than ever.

‘Of course, I do. Have a little faith.’  Eric said, hoping she couldn’t see he had crossed his fingers in the dark.  He put his hand on her shoulder and with a little blue spark, they were gone.

Seconds later they were standing on a hillside looking up towards a castle, the setting sun was glinting over the ramparts. Katie was rubbing her shoulder.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.’  She said, scowling.

Eric ignored her and strode off up the hill. As they reached the wooden door of the castle, he knocked loudly.

‘Where are we?’  Katie asked.

‘Avalon.’ Eric said

Avalon, like in King Arthur?’

‘No, Avalon in North Wales. That’s not its real name, but I can’t pronounce that, it’s all consonants and no vowels.  We just call it Avalon.’  Eric knocked on the door again.

‘Does everyone who dies come to Wales?’  Katie asked.

‘Yep.’

‘What if you died in Ulan Bator?’

Eric shrugged. ‘I dunno, I was on the A508 outside Northampton.’

‘Have you met anyone from Ulan Bator?’  Katie asked.

‘Nope.’  Eric was getting impatient. He walked over to the castle wall and counted the stones. Four across and five up. Then he pushed the stone inwards. A face appeared in the hole.

‘Derek, are you going to let us in?’  He asked.

‘Who goes there, friend or foe?’ the face said.

‘Derek its me, you know it’s me. Open the gate.’

‘What’s the password?’

‘There, isn’t a password Derek, you know that you jerk.  You do this every time.’  Eric gave one of his stares.

‘I can’t just let anyone in you know.’  Derek said.

‘I’m not just anyone. If you don’t let me in, I’m going to tell Mr Peters what you did in his office last Tuesday.’  Derek’s eyes grew large, a look of terror crept across his rat like features.

‘You wouldn’t dare.’  He squeaked.

‘Try me.’  Eric said

There was a click and grating noise and the huge wooden door swung inwards. Eric walked in with Katie trailing behind.

‘Who was that?’ she asked

‘Derek, he thinks he owns the place. He’s just a doorman really.  He’s annoying, but he can be a laugh sometimes.  Especially when he’s been on the sherry.’

‘I didn’t think we could eat or drink.’ Katie said. ‘Surely alcohol doesn’t affect us?’

‘Its, umm…’ Eric was floundering.

‘Quantum?’  Katie said with a grin.

 

Shortly they arrived at a huge red door. A small gold plaque was nailed to it, that read.

Mr Peters

Please knock and wait

Eric knocked and walked in. The room inside was large with oak panels on the walls, and a think red carpet adorned the floor. The lighting came from many candles sat in sconces all around the walls. In the middle of the room a huge wooden desk sat, behind which was a tall man, with a fat round face and a bushy grey beard. He was dressed in what looked like a black robe, edged in gold.

‘Can’t you read?’  he said.

‘Sorry, Mr Peters, I didn’t notice.’  Eric said smiling. ‘I thought you hadn’t heard me the first time.’

The man looked up and glared at Eric.

‘Name?’ he said.

‘It’s me, Mr Peters, Eric. Eric Monroe.’ Eric said

‘Monroe…’ he said consulting a large book in front of him. ‘I don’t have a Monroe, what did you say your first name was?’

‘No, Mr Peters. It’s me, Eric.  You know, we are on the same bowling team.’  Eric rolled his eyes.

Mr Peters looked up and peered over his glasses. He rubbed his beard and looked thoughtful for a moment.

‘Why are you here? Is it bowling night already? Doesn’t time fly.’

No, Mr Peters, it’s not bowling night.  I’ve brought someone with me, to register?’  Eric pushed Katie forward.

‘Oh, Ok. Name?’

‘It’s Katie, sir. Katie Dupont.’ Katie said.

Mr Peters looked through his ledger once more. ‘Dupont, you say? Not Grimes? I have a Catherine Grimes?’

‘No sir, it’s definitely Dupont.’  Katie looked a little nervous.

‘Hmmm, you wouldn’t like to change your name to Grimes? No, I don’t suppose that would work would it.’  Mr Peters said.

Katie looked at Eric. Eric shrugged.

‘Well, Miss Dupont, I don’t have you down, so I suppose you must be in the wrong place. Good day.’

‘Wait, what?’  Katie said.

‘Can you check again Mr Peters, please?’ Eric said.

Mr Peters glared at them over his spectacles. He pulled a brass lever on his desk. There was a grinding noise, followed by a loud bang from somewhere. A door off to the right opened and a short skinny man stepped through, a trail of smoke coming from his ear, a startled look on his face.

‘Yes, Mr Peters?’  the man said.

‘Jenkins, something has gone wrong. This young lady seems to be in the wrong place.’ 

Jenkins looked over at Katie and Eric. ‘Oh, hello Eric.’  He said.

‘All right Jenkins.’  Eric said. ‘Seems to be a mix up somewhere. Can you check the ledger for my friend here? Katie Dupont.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of checking myself, Mr Monroe.’  Mr Peters said staring at Eric.

‘Yes, sir, sorry Mr Peters.’  Eric looked at Jenkins who grinned back at him.

‘I’ll need to ask Head Office. Fetch me form AA43, and AB79, please Jenkins.’  Mr Peters said.

Jenkins scuttled back through the door returning minutes later with the relevant forms clutched in his hands. Mr Peters took them and began filling them both in, between grunts and loud sighs, occasionally glaring at Eric and shaking his head. Finally, he seemed satisfied and pushed the forms across the desk.

‘Sign, here, and here.’ He said to Katie. ‘I take it Mr Monroe, you are her sponsor?’

‘Who me? No, I’m not a sponsor, I’m… well I haven’t… I wouldn’t know what to do.’  Eric stammered.

‘No sponsor?’  Mr Peters asked? ‘Well, that won’t do.’  He took one of the forms, screwed it up and threw in the waste basket with a sigh. ‘Who is your sponsor young lady?’ he asked addressing Katie.

‘I don’t know. I’m not sure what that means.’  Katie said.

‘Well, who met you when, you, err… joined us?’  he asked.

‘No one. Well, there was Eric, but that’s all.’

‘No sponsor, not on my list, I mean it really is too much.’  He grumbled. ‘Well, its Friday so I won’t be able to do anything until Monday. I suggest you find her a sponsor over the weekend Mr Monroe. Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do.’  He went back to poring over his ledger. The meeting was clearly over.

‘Come with me.’  Jenkins said, leading them through to the next room. This room was smaller than the first but decorated exactly the same except for a picture of Elvis Presley on the wall and what looked like a trophy of some sort on a table in the corner. Jenkins sat down behind his desk which, unlike Mr Peters’ had a modern looking computer on it. He tapped a few keys and stared intently at the screen.

‘Hmmm.’ He said.

‘What is it Jenkins?’ Eric asked.

‘Well, its like this.’ Jenkins said. ‘Your friend here is in the wrong dim.’

‘The what?’ Eric and Katie said together.

‘The wrong dim.’ Jenkins said again, then he rolled his eyes. ‘I take it that’s another lecture you weren’t paying attention to.’  Eric looked sheepish. ‘Simply put, there are lots of dims, and we all get assigned to one. Imagine how many people have died over the years, if they all ended up in the same place it would be awfully crowded. So, we get sent to where there’s space. Only Katie’s details have all been sent to a different one, and she ended up here. Most irregular.’

‘You mean its like the airline sent my luggage to the wrong airport?’  Katie asked.

Jenkins grinned. ‘You know what, that’s exactly it. Now we can either transfer you to the right place, which has never been done before so I’m not sure that’s possible, or we can request your papers sent to us.  But as Mr Peters said, can’t do much until Monday now.  I suggest you enjoy the weekend and I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, you need a sponsor, someone to show you the ropes as it were. Maybe Eric could…’ he trailed off.

‘I don’t think so.’ Eric said. ‘Anyway, don’t you have to have been here years before you can do that?’

‘Ten years, yes.  But then you have been here twelve years so you would qualify. Although since you never listen to Ophelia’s lectures, maybe you would be a bad choice.’

‘But they are so boring. Besides, I learnt everything I need from Martin.  He knows a lot.’  Eric said grinning.

‘He drinks a lot.’ Jenkins said. ‘Anyway, think about it will you? It might do you good to have a little responsibility. In the meantime, Katie, if you come with me, I’ll show you to one of the dorm rooms here and you can settle in until we have your paperwork sorted.’  With that he escorted Katie out the door and along the corridor.

‘I’ll catch you later.’ Eric called after them and headed off in the opposite direction.

He pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and made his way down the winding staircase to the dungeon. In fact, The Dungeon was the name of the bar, although technically it was once a real dungeon too. He walked towards the bar and sat down on a stool next to a man in short red cape and sequined trousers who was sipping a pint of something dark and frothy.

‘Eric!’ the man cried. ‘How are you? I haven’t seen you for ages.’

‘I saw you this morning Martin.’ Eric said.

‘Oh yes.’ Said Martin, removing his head and placing it on the bar. ‘Sorry my head’s all over the place today.’ Eric smiled, rolled his eyes, and ordered a pint.

‘Martin have you ever been anyone’s sponsor?’ Eric asked.

‘Oh no, imagine that? Who would want me as a sponsor? Besides, all that responsibility, all those lectures. Yuck. I don’t think I could stomach it.  Why do you ask?’

‘Mr Peters wants me to be a sponsor for a girl I met today. I don’t know what to do.’

‘You run away and hide in a bar somewhere until it all dies down.’ Martin said. ‘You don’t need all that in your life…or death…or whatever. I once hid in a bar for three years before anyone found me.’

Eric stared off into the distance his mind elsewhere. On the one hand, Martin was right, all that responsibility would be a nightmare. Lectures, studying, keeping tabs on someone, listening to them complain about things.  It made him exhausted just thinking about it. On the other hand, what else was there to do? Eternity is a long time, you couldn’t spend it just bowling and drinking, although Martin was giving a good go.  But should you? In the twelve years he had been dead, he had learned a lot, been to allsorts of places and amassed a lot of knowledge and experience. Maybe he should share that with someone.  Maybe it would make him feel good about himself. After all lots of people were sponsors. Aunt Ophelia sponsored four people, as far as he could remember. Maybe he should ask her advice.  Not that he had listened to anything she had said before, but maybe it was time to step up. He finished his pint, maybe he would just have another drink.

Two hours later, Eric and Martin were sat in a bar in Soho, drinking something blue, surrounded by live people who had no clue they were there. You might wonder how they got served if no one could see them, well barmen die too and some of them don’t want to give up their trade, even in the afterlife. As for where the blue stuff came from, it was probably quantum.

‘The thing is though; you don’t want to have to listen to someone asking stupid questions all day, do you?’  Martin’s head said from somewhere on the floor where it had rolled. ‘I mean can you even explain most things? Do you know why half the stuff we do happens? Could you stomach more lectures from Ophelia just so you can pass it on to someone else? I still reckon you should hide.’

‘I know but I feel like my death is becoming stagnant.’  Eric said

‘Well, that’s the thing about being dead, you never really move on.’  Said Martin’s head.

Eric sighed and finished his drink. On the stage a band were starting their second set of the evening. The Clown Collective were a prog rock band that Eric had been looking forward to seeing for some time, despite the painful memories linked to that particular circus act. The lead singer was dressed in a colourful outfit of reds and blues, his painted-on smile and red nose made him look more at home at a children’s party, but the lyrics he was spouting would have had him thrown out in an instant. Martin had taken it upon himself to be amusing by climbing onto the stage and doing keepie uppies with his head in time to the music. A group of Afterlifers sitting in a corner were in fits of laughter as he pranced about the stage. Eric looked on, his mind elsewhere once more. Was it ironic that having been struck down by a bus load of circus clowns he had spent most of his death up to now clowning around? Perhaps he should try to do something different.  Would it be so bad to take on a student as it were? After all it was only once a week and besides, Katie seemed nice, she might be a laugh. It was all getting a bit too much, so much for resting in peace, this was worse than being alive.

The sun poked its head tentatively over the horizon as if checking the coast was clear before marching across the sky. Eric was sitting on a beach somewhere on the south coast of England watching a group of seagulls fighting over last night chip papers. If he had been alive, he wouldn’t have slept all night.  As it was, after escaping the soho club and leaving Martin trying to balance his head on a mic stand, he had spent the remainder of the night hopping around all his favorite places trying to decide what to do. He wasn’t altogether sure where he was.  The thing about afterlife travel was, you just stood in the shadows thought of a place, and zam! You were there. Eric had been to this particular beach several times, but he couldn’t remember what it was called.  Bournemouth maybe? Or Bognor? Something beginning with B at least. And he still hadn’t made a decision about being a sponsor.  At one point he even considered contacting Aunt Ophelia, but he soon came to his senses and decided against it. The last thing he needed was a lecture.

‘Oh, here you are, Eric.’  A voice said from behind him. Eric jumped out of his skin and spun around. Katie stood behind him looking like…well, death.

‘Hi Katie.’  He said trying to look casual.

‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I thought you were coming back to show me around, and stuff.’  She looked a little hurt.

‘Sorry, yes, I, err. What time is it?’  he looked at his watch out of habit.

‘Early, I suppose. Although I wasn’t tired.  Is that a quantum thing too?’  Katie asked.

‘I think its simpler than that, you’re dead, you don’t need to sleep, you don’t have a body to get tired. How did you get here anyway?’  Eric looked around to see if Jenkins and brought her.

‘I did what you said, stood in the shadows and thought of you. I guess I must have been just behind you.’  She sat down next to him as the seagulls finished up their chips and flew off in search of a kebab.

Eric was a little shocked. No one had ever listened to him before, let alone done what he told them. Usually, people just laughed at him or made a joke.  He had spent so long messing around and being a clown, no one ever took him seriously. He felt, different. A splashing sound interrupted his thoughts. A figure was emerging from the waves, at first Eric thought it was a swimmer out for early morning exercise. Until its head fell off.

Katie’s eyes widened. ‘What…is…that?’ she stammered.

‘Its just a drunk.’ Said Eric. ‘Ignore him, come on we have some forms to sign if I’m going to be your sponsor.’