Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A hard bench, a rocking sensation and a gentle breeze. Rhythmic scraping, water lapping at the hull of the boat. A boat! Alison cracked open her eyes and light came rushing in. Something sat across from her, a shabby, shaggy mass of fur rocking slowly, calmly forward and back. Strong arms extended from the fur and hands with dirty fingernails grasped a pole each. A pole… an oar, extending down to and cutting through the dull, greyish water. A head lifted from the mass… a man, a strange and grubby and shaggy man, but a man. He grinned slightly, a flash of yellowed teeth, then lowered his head and continued to row.

The boat pulled through the water and Alison squinted ahead of them, over the man’s head to the strip of land ahead, only slightly less grey than the water. It was overcast too, greyish clouds above greyish land above greyish water and in between them all, Alison, the boat and the shaggy man.

“Where are we going?”
“Over there.”
“Yes but what is there?”
“Is just there, no where else to go.”
“Why?”
“Just isn’t.”
“Okay well what happens when I get there? Where am I? Who are you? How did I get here?”
He lifted his head again and looked at her.
“Others help you when you get there, take you to field, they nice. You in my boat, with me. Me take people from boat to land. Dunno how you got here, me know you in boat and you need to go there, so we go there.”
The shaggy man smiled softly and lowered his head, continuing his rowing. Alison considered her situation for a moment, how did she get here?
“Am I dead?”
“ ‘ Spose.”
“Are you dead?”
“Yep.”
“What about Mike?”
“Dunno who dat is, but since he not here, he probably not dead.”
“But I am?”
“Yep.”
“Nope! No no no no noo! This is all some weird dream, I am not dead, I’m going to wake up now, I’ve decided! Goodbye!”
Not waiting for a response Alison closed her eyes and breathed deeply, except she didn’t, her ribs expanded and she sucked in through her nose but felt no rush of incoming oxygen. She tried again and again. Nothing.
She opened her eyes and looked around, weighing up the options.
She lunged for the edge of the boat. Quick as lighting, the shaggy man lept at her and wrapped his arms around her before she could touch the water.
“Get off me! Let me go!”
“Stay on boat! Is big bad down there.”
He wrestled her back into place, picked up his oars and continued to row.
“I seen people go in there, is not good, trust me, stay on boat.”
Silence.
“Not a dream then…”
“No.”

The silence lengthened, the waves lapped, the oars scraped and the boat moved steadily on towards the land. Not a dream, just Alison, dead, on a boat with a weird dead guy.

“So… so I won’t see Mike again will I?”
“Probably not, no.”

And then, Alison started to cry. It tumbled out of her, splitting her almost in two. She felt everything that could have been or was going to be falling out of her and into the grey water. She thought she had more time, more nights in, more shows to watch, more books to read, more places to visit, more people to see, more Mike. Mike, who she had left all alone in the world, how selfish of her to just leave him like this, how could she be so cruel?
The shaggy man began to hum softly as he brought them closer to the shore.

***

At the bank, the shaggy man hurried her out of the boat and passed her on to a peculiarly dressed woman with equally peculiar speech.

“You gots another one?”
“Yep, gon’ get more.”
“Wills ye be back for club?”
“Dunno. Bye Mary, bye dead lady.”

Alison supposes she is “dead lady”. She stood with the peculiar woman, Mary, as they watched the shaggy man relaunch his boat. Mary turned her sooty face to Alison with a toothy grin, then spun on her heel and began to walk up the path behind them that entered the woods.

“Come on then, bests be goings. Follow me!”
Mary walked quickly, not needing to look down at the path as though she had walked it hundreds of times, perhaps she had. Alison struggled to keep up, her gaze glued to the path so as not to trip on a root or stone.
“Mary?”
“Tha’s me.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’s is goings to the gates, then yous is goings to the fence and then the fields.”

Ahead, woods opened up to a clearing where stood a grand pair of gates and behind them a stately house. The whole thing looked suspiciously like the British countryside. There was a line of people at the gates, slowly but surely moving forward. Old people of all kinds, some middle aged, a few younger adults, no children though. Thank god, Alison thought.
They approached and Mary stopped to turn to Alison.

“Nows whens ye stands o’ there with themfolk, ye can jus’ follow along.”

Alison nodded, slightly dazed, and went up to join the line.
No one spoke, they all stood there serenely. The line moved steadily along and more people appeared behind Alison as she moved through the gates and into the expansive grounds. The place was overgrown and slightly damp, grass ran wild and small flowers poked their faces out of the grass, lifting the mood despite the grey sky. There were great oak trees, bushes that may have once been delicate topiary and nearby, the stately house. It was made of brick and had many great windows, it had a certain energy that she couldn’t quite place, it wasn’t alive, but certainly not dead yet. The place felt loved, warm despite the greyness, she wondered who it was that loved it so.
As the line moved, the edge of the property came into view, marked by a wild hedge that was really more brambles than hedge. The line extended to a hole in the brambles and through it she could see another field, empty with neat, clipped grass. A short friendly looking man walked up the line towards Alison, smiling and nodding at each person. He, like the other guides she had met, was also strangely dressed, wearing a scouts uniform and almost comically short shorts. His ridiculously outdated moustache accentuated each warm smile. Alison waved awkwardly as he passed.
She moved closer and closer to the bramble hole where she could see each person duck through and suddenly vanish. Instead of being weirded out by this, Alison felt an excitement that she too would disappear, leave behind this strange overgrown place and find out what's next. In fact, she had felt a sense of great calm since joining the line, what had she been so upset about before? She’s always wondered if there is an afterlife, now she’s about to find out. Methodically, each person stepped through and vanished with the help of a young woman in a lavish plum coloured dress. Edwardian? Georgian? Victorian? Doesn’t matter, it's Alison’s turn now.
She stepped forward, took the woman’s offered hand, ready to step through to whatever was next. With a deep, pointless breath, she closed her eyes and went through.

A buzzing sensation, a flash of light, quick and jolting, Alison felt herself shoved unceremoniously backwards as she tumbled to the ground. She cried out in shock and confusion, sprawled on the hard ground.
“Pat! Pat, it's happened! We’ve got another one, how exciting!”
Alison opened her eyes to see the woman in the plum dress leaning over her. This wasn’t right. She should have vanished like the others. The wondrous calm was slipping, sliding off her. Hazily she pulled herself up to her feet.
“Oh don’t worry! You won’t go through, trust me!”
It did not have the comforting effect this plum woman seemed to think it would. Alison stepped through again.

Buzz. Light. Jolt. Yelp. Ground.

“Now you don’t need to try again like that love, there are others who need to pass through, why don’t you come and sit here. Kitty, go and get Cap for me, there's a dear.”
The man in short shorts was here now, smiling, guiding her to the side, sitting her down on a rock. The brambles poked into her back.
“Why didn’t it work, I - everyone else… let me -”
She moved to stand, but the man in short shorts gently yet firmly pushed her by the shoulders back to the rock.
“You won’t want to do that again, the third time is no more fun. Just sit here a mo’ and I’ll let some of these people through while Kitty gets the Captain, there you go, it’ll all be okay.”
He stood and Alison watched from the rock as he guided an elderly woman with purple hair through the fence. She was serene, unaffected by what had happened in front of her, and disappeared neatly as she stepped through, as did the next, a man in his fifties who smiled as he stepped through, not giving her a passing glance. The brambles still poked into her and her vision began to blur with tears.
The woman in the plum dress, Kitty, reappeared in the distance, skipping along with several other figures hurrying behind her. As the bizarre party drew closer she could make out an army uniform, a grey dress, a suit with no pants and a waistcoat holding a strange ball like object. Everyone in this place must be a fucking weirdo, she thought.
“Cor, she’s brought the whole blinkin’ lot of em!” The man in short shorts muttered in annoyance. Alison could hear the group chattering away as they practically tumbled over each other towards her.

“I found her! We’re going to be the best of friends I just know it!”
“Oh my, a rare beauty indeed, at last I have a muse!”
“Mustard yellow? Whatever happened to respectable dress sense?”
“Hello! She’s a right pretty bird isn’t she!”
“Turn me ‘round, I can’t see!”

Kitty skipped over and exclaimed excitedly,
“Look Captain! She couldn’t go through! I was there when it happened, it was all very dramatic and I looked after her! Can we keep her? Pleaaaase?” She plonked herself down next to Alison and literally batted her eyelashes at her.
“Kitty!” Reprimanded short shorts, handing another beatifically smiling person through the fence.
“Quite right,” said army uniform, “Katherine, please move aside from the er… lady, I’ll handle this!” He crouched down next to Alison, knees clicking loudly.
“Yes… er, hello there, it seems you’ve er, well it seems um… I- I’m not sure how to say this but…”
“Oh give over!” Interrupted short shorts, leaving his duty and joining the circle the party had formed around her. “Right love, you’ve got to understand that um… oh no… no I can’t do it either.”
With that the whole group began to talk at once, all trying to explain… something to her that, despite their best efforts none of them could seem to find the right words for. Through the cacophony Alison remembered what she had been so upset about, what she was leaving behind, she didn’t even get to forget like all the others in the line. The tears quietly spilled over.
“Order, orderrrrrrr!” this from suit with no pants, who shoved his way to the front and stood over Alison, who did not look up for fear of the view. “Right, since none of you can do this, I will. Hello, you are dead. You did not make it through the gate and now you're here, with us, until you won’t be. We don’t know why, we don’t know how or for how long, but this is our lot, alright?”
He took a step back and after a moment of tense silence, Alison dared to look up at the array of faces staring down at her.
So, this is her lot.

Chapter Text

Somehow the house felt smaller on the inside. She was sitting on an almost certainly mouldy couch staring at the motley crew she appeared to be stuck with. For a moment, no one spoke, they all just stared intently at her, seemingly waiting for her to do something. Army uniform cleared his throat.
“Right then, if no one else will, I shall begin the introductions. I am the Commanding Officer here and you may address me as -”
“Was.” Interrupted suit with no pants.
“Excuse me?”
“He was a Commanding Officer,” the man clarified with great contempt. “hasn’t been since the bloody second world war! Still makes us call him the Captain, his name is -” He was cut off by the Captain.
“Yes thank you Julian! At least I still have my values. Perhaps you should introduce yourself if you’re so keen to talk eh?” He cleared his throat again, Alison remembered her failed attempts at deep breathing and decided this had to be a habit if he, like her, was dead.
Suit with no pants stood up and adjusted his tie, Alison found herself wishing he’d stayed seated.
“Julian Fawcett, former MP and connoisseur of the Panamanian pumpkin party, if you know what I mean eh?” Alison did not know what he meant and from the faces the others made they unfortunately did; she was not keen to find out. He punctuated this with an off putting snorting that she guessed was his laugh. He sat down and looked at the others
“Well? Who’s next?”
Grey dress made a strange noise and waddled stiffly to the front of the group.
“I shall introduce myself, I am Lady Stephanie Euphemia Button, welcome to…” she gestured vaguely to their surroundings, “here.” She waddled back to where she had been standing as the rest of the group watched her agape. She noticed them staring.
“What?”
“Euphemia?” Short shorts said in disbelief.
“Yes! It’s a family name you know.” she responded indignantly.
“I think it's lovely Fanny, perhaps I will get a puppy and name her Euphemia!” Kitty said joyously. Captain sighed and tried to interject,
“Kitty, you can’t -”
“Oh, that's me!” Kitty cried out excitedly. “I am Katherine Higham, but since we’re going to be the best of friends, you can call me Kitty.” Alison liked her, but knew already she would have to keep her at arms length.
“I can’t stand it any longer! I knew from the moment I saw you that you were to be my next inspiration, nay, my muse!” The waistcoat stepped grandly forward.
“Oh, here we go.” muttered Julian.
“My name is Thomas Angus Thorne and I have been waiting my entire life -”
“Death.” corrected Julian.
“Death! My entire life and death I have been waiting for you and I did not even realise until I laid eyes on you. Why, it is as though I have been in a deep slumber and am only just awakening to see you, please I implore you, accept my proposal and be with me forever!”
“Oh leave her be Tom! She’s only just arrived.” Short shorts stood as Thomas scoffed and promptly turned to sit on a nearby stool and sulk theatrically.
“Pat Butcher, I was a scoutmaster in life and now I am here helping all these lovely people pass on to their great reward! It’s lovely to have you here.” He smiled warmly and Alison knew he meant what he’d said. Pat looked around and saw Mary standing at the back of the group, Alison hadn’t seen her come in over all the excitement in the room.
“Mary!” Exclaimed Pat, “You’re just in time, we were making our introductions, she’s new, didn’t make it though the hedge. Why don’t you introduce yourself, love.”
Mary sort of waved and sort of smiled and sort of introduced herself.
“Ohh ‘ello again, its be nice seeings you ands knowings another one can er… bes here, or somethings.”
“Tell her your name.” Encouraged Pat.
“Oh she already be knowings.”
“Yes, um, hi, Mary.” Alison sort of waved and sort of smiled back at Mary. Still very peculiar. The Captain cleared his throat (unnecessarily) and bounced on his heels, saying matter of factly,
“Well there we go, that concludes our introductions, now we can move on to -”
“I think you’re forgetting someone… again.”
This from a seemingly disembodied voice that Alison could not place. She looked around the room to see who had spoken, when she looked at the side table beside her, she jumped and stifled a shriek of surprise when she saw the severed head straining it’s eyes to look at her. The others all mumbled some sort of acknowledgement, having somehow forgotten about the literal talking severed head in the room.
“Will someone pick me up please?”
“Right, of course, sorry” Thomas forgot his sulking and hurried over to the head, picking him up and turning him to face Alison, who tried to look as polite as possible and as if she wasn’t freaking out about the actual severed head addressing her.
“Hello, I’m Sir Humphrey Bone, the rest of me is somewhere else, I’m sure you’ll become acquainted shortly.” Alison nodded dumbly, he seemed friendly, but she felt a little ill looking at the raw flesh of his severed neck and really just wanted him to go back to where she didn’t have to see him. Thomas thankfully took Humphrey out of Alison’s line of sight and returned to his stool.
“Now, that actually concludes our introductions, we can now give um, give… sorry, what was your name? I don’t believe I caught it…” Captain looked at her expectantly along with the others, they almost leaned in.
“Um, Alison...Cooper.”
“Alison, could someone show Alison to her room please, I do believe it is time for us to turn in for the night.”
“Oh I will, I will! We can have a sleepover, it’ll be ever so fun!”
“No, Kitty, I believe the lady will want to keep company with me as I do love her so.”
“Leaves her be!” Mary cut off Kitty and Thomas before a squabble could begin, the rest of the group seemed a little surprised by this interjection “Come Al’son, I’ll helps you finds somwheres to rest your heads.” Alison gladly stood and followed Mary, grateful to follow someone who had already shown her the way before. The group said their cheery farewells and goodnights, to which Alison smiled and nodded in a daze and followed Mary out of the room.

***

“...and this’n be yours Al’son.” Mary ended her long winded tour of the hall by opening the last door with a flourish. Alison peered in and saw a small bed in one corner, a chest of drawers in the other and a large window with tattered curtains that took up most of the wall opposite the door. The moonlight shone through the window and she could see the dust motes floating in the air.
“Right uh, thank you Mary.”
“Is alright! Iff’n you be needin’ any help, my room’s jus next door. Sweet dreams!”
With that, Mary turned to the adjacent door, entered and promptly closed it. Alison heard the lock roll over and click into place.
Alison turned and entered the room, closing the door but not latching it behind her. She sat on the bed which creaked and let up a small puff of dust. Outside the moon shone brightly, she could see stars too. Despite the greyness by day, the place seemed to light up at night, the sky was nothing like what you could see back home in London.
Home.
She supposed she wasn’t going to go back. Dead. In a house of weirdos who also didn’t make it through to whatever is next. Maybe that's why: too weird, didn’t make the cut. Must mean she’s weird too. Would Mike make it through? If being weird was the only criteria then definitely not. She’ll just have to wait for him to come through. But how long would that take? Maybe he would forget her by then, fall in love with someone else. That would probably be best, she hates the idea that he might waste his life in mourning for her. Still, no matter how she spins it, it all feels so unfair. She doesn’t even get to go through to that stupid field with all those stupid old people and their stupid smiling faces.
She could try again.
Maybe some people need to have a couple goes at it, and if she can go now and try without an audience, maybe she’ll go through. She won’t sleep anyway, can’t bring herself to lie down on the dusty, lumpy mattress. Surely she doesn’t need to anyway, if she doesn’t breathe, why would she need to sleep?
Alison crept across the floorboards and eased the door open, then moved as quietly and quickly down the hallway as possible. She tried not to look around too much, this place looked far too much like a haunted house for her liking and whether she was dead or not, she wasn’t interested in talking to ghosts.
Down the creaky stairs, through another creaky hall and out the creaky door, it felt like the house was trying to wake everyone else up, if they even slept. Outside, the great line of people had vanished, she supposed even in purgatory, if that’s what this was, people only worked 9-5. The dead could wait. They had the time.
She hurried across the grounds, swishing through the very overgrown, damp grass that somehow did not dampen her shoes or jeans. The brambles looked ominous in the moonlight and she realised she was not sure where the hole to the field was. She walked along the edge of the grounds looking for it, but the brambles were thick and unyielding, the hole was nowhere in sight. If there was no hole, then she was going to have to make one. The brambles were rough to touch as she tried to pull them away. Even pulling with all her weight, she could not move them. She pulled and pulled until her hands were raw but they would not budge. She sat dejectedly on the dewey grass and looked at her hands. There was not a scratch on them but she felt like she had the worst rope burn of her life. Death. The worst rope burn of her death. Lying back and looking up to the moon, she wondered if there was any other way out, if she couldn’t move forward, perhaps she could move back.

—---

The moon shimmered on the water, glinting and winking at Alison. It was strange that there would be a beach so close to the British countryside, but perhaps it is more strange that she is dead and yet still walking, thinking and breathing. Or at least pretending to breathe. Looking out over the water, she couldn’t see anything on the other side, but surely there must be another side, or else where would she have come from? It seemed as good an option as any, so she toed off her shoes and began to wade into the water. It wasn’t as cold as she expected, in fact, it seemed to have no temperature at all, just the sensation of waves lapping at her ankles. She was up to her knees when she heard a gruff voice.
“Already say not go in.”
Alison startled and turned around, water splashing. The shaggy man was standing on the beach behind her, how long had he been watching?
“What?”
“When you in boat you try swim and me grab you and me tell you not go in. Big bad in there, remember?”
“Well…” an idea struck her. “Why don’t you take me?”
“Where?”
She did her best to sound commanding, “Back to where you found me.”
“Already said, din’ find you, you in my boat, me take you here. Dunno where you come from.”
Alison splashed out of the water and marched up to him til they were nose to nose. She tried to speak as evenly as possible through gritted teeth.
“You will get your boat and you will take me to the other side of this fucking water and you will fucking find out where I came from so I can go back there and leave this place or I will…”
She faltered, realising she had nothing that might hold weight with this man, she doesn’t even know who he is or what he might be capable of. He held her gaze and smirked.
“You’ll wot?” He challenged and flashed his yellowed teeth again. Alison stared at his mouth a moment, his teeth were almost canine in nature, is creature could rip her apart if he wanted to. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to want to, Alison doesn’t want that either, so she sighed and sat down heavily on the sand. The shaggy man sat down next to her.
“Already tried dat.”
“Taking people back?”
“Yep.” He looked wistfully out at the water where the moon’s reflection danced. In its blueish light Alison got her first good look at him, he was a lot younger than she initially thought. Under the grime and hair and sun damage, he couldn’t have been older than 25. He looked down at the sand and dragged his fingers through it.
“What happened?”
“Took ‘dem in boat ‘til we see land, keep going closer and closer but land keep going further and further away. Never get there, so we turn ‘round and go back.” A pause, he drew a triangle in the sand. “You no go to field yet?”
“It didn’t let me. Does that mean I’m stuck here?” She began her own pattern of spirals.
“Fink so, usually does.” The triangle became part of a larger pattern of geometric shapes, each one placed carefully and with great consideration.
“Are you stuck here? Are the others stuck here too?”
“Yep. None pass through, dunno why, sometimes try again and someone go through, but mostly we stay. We help others go through… is something to do, stops big boring.”
The fact that this might not be forever gave her hope, then she realised she could not place the man in any modern time period and there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. She swallowed thickly.
“How long have you been here?” It seemed like the only question to ask. His expression darkened for a moment.
“Dunno, long time. Very long time. Long enough to make boat and we no have them when me alive hah! Then me start to bring people from there to here, is nice life… death. Sometimes new person come along, like you! That very exciting.” His tone was light, but there was strain under the effort not to scare her.
Out across the sea, clouds had begun to gather on the horizon. Down on the sand, their patterns had merged, making a bit swirly spikey picture. The grains felt almost tangible under her fingertips.
“Do you not stay with the others at the house?”
“Oh yes, but they big loud and house feel small even though is huge! Me like moonah and stars, they always there. People always come and go, all go to field eventually.”
“But not you.”
With a soft huff of a laugh, he ran his grubby hand through their drawings and disappeared them. Sand clung to his furry gloves and he clapped his hands together softly to brush it off.
“No. Me not try any more. Been here too long, me fink dis place need me.”
Silence fell gently around them. The clouds on the horizon emitted a faint flash of light, they were too far away for the thunder to reach them, though. Alison felt a pull to rest her head on his shoulder. The furs were soft and almost had a gamey scent to them. They almost smelt like sheepskin, or maybe she just thought they should, she wasn’t even sure she could smell anything here. He didn’t resist her or shake her off, instead laying his head gently on top of hers. She felt like everything might come crashing down again and for the thousandth time that day, the tears began to spill over. An arm circled her shoulders, his touch held the memory of warmth in its soft furs and calloused hands.
“Rohr.” He said. Alison looked up through her tears for a moment, confused.
“Is me. Rohr.” His name, the shaggy man had a name, she hadn’t even thought to ask, but supposed it was bleedingly obvious that he would.
“Alison.” She managed through shaky breaths. Rohr put his other arm around her and pulled her close, holding her firmly in his almost warmth. They looked out over the water where the moon was now partially obscured by the far off storm, it crackled and sparked, but it was dry and safe on this little strip of beach.
“Is good to meet you, Al - ee - son.”

Chapter Text

It was raining. Hard. Thunder crackled overhead as Mike and Obi waited for their uber, huddled under an awning just out of the rain in damp dress shoes.
“She’d love this.”
“What? Pissing rain on the day of her funeral?”
“Yeah,” Mike looked out from the awning and up to the clouds, then quickly ducked back in when a drop fell directly in his eye. “I reckon if she was gonna have one she’d want it to be dramatic.”
“Would she?”
“I dunno.” He didn’t, he was just talking to talk, really.
“Pssh, whatever you say mate.”
A white toyota camry pulled up, splashing some of the rain water over the kerb and onto the footpath.
“This is us!” Obi said, waving to the driver. With shoulders stooped and eyes squinted against the rain, the pair tumbled into the car. They buckled in and Obi pulled out his phone to send off a text or a tweet or check instagram or who cares what. Rain streaked the window and Mike watched a single drop travel from the top to the bottom. When it reached the bottom he let out a long sigh.
“Fuck.” He put his head in his hands, leaning forward. Obi reached out a hand and laid it firmly between his shoulders.
“You right mate?”
Mike half groaned, half laughed and half sobbed, if you can even have three halves.
“No.”
“Yeah. I know. Stupid question.”
Mike looked up at him, then back to the rain on the window.
“It's just… now I have to keep going… and she just won’t? What do I even do with that? I mean she probably wouldn’t like it to be rainy on her funeral, she’d probably want a dance party or a pool party or fuck it I don’t even know cos we never talked about this shit! Maybe she’d have wanted to be dumped in an alleyway or eaten by worms or donated to science or fucking buried at sea. I can say she’d like rain on her funeral or white flowers or for her body to be cremated or for me to keep going but I’ll never know for sure cos she’s…” He swallowed the word rather than say it. Too soon. Too surreal. It hung between them as Obi nodded, absorbing his friend’s words.
“She’d want you to keep going. The rest is all just rituals. She’d definitely want you to keep going, though.”
“I know.” Mike murmured hoarsely. They fell to silence, the driver hadn’t even put the radio on, the only sound was the rain tapping on the roof and yet another clap of thunder.

“You could hold a seance.”
Mike turned to Obi in disbelief, tears in his eyes, mouth slightly agape. Obi held his gaze earnestly for several seconds, then, in unison, they burst into laughter. Raucous, hysterical, wheezing, sobbing laughter; it had been the longest day of Mike's life.

***
On Obi’s couch, several hours and beers later:
“Fuck it.” Not a statement you’d want to hear from someone who has recently unexpectedly lost the love of their life.
“Mike…” Obi put his beer down and turned towards him.
“Fuck it, lets do it.” Mike stood from the edge of the couch and walked (maybe staggered) to the table to pick up his phone. Warily, Obi stood too.
“Do what, Mike… you’ve probably had enough now.”
“The thing you mentioned before.”
“What thing?”
“The um, the errrrr…” Mike scrunched his face in concentration, making strange circular motions with his free hand as if to conjure the word from thin air.
“Mike, what thing?”
“The seb - the sons - the um, the thing where you summon-”
“A seance???” Obi offered in utter bewilderment. An indescribable noise came from Mike as he gestured enthusiastically and nodded, wide eyed.
“A seance!” He opened the browser on his phone and began to type. Obi sat back on the couch, relieved Mike didn’t want to do anything dangerous stupid, just stupid stupid. He could roll with stupid stupid.
“Since when did you know how to conduct a seance, Harry Potter?”
Mike frowned in concentration at his phone, then, when he found what he’d been looking for, turned his phone triumphantly to Obi.
“I don’t, but Wikihow does!” On his phone was an article entitled ‘How to Perform a Séance (with pictures)’. Taking back his phone, Mike scrolled through the article and asked,
“Do you still have that Ouijia board from halloween?”
“I mean, yeah, but it’s from Amazon, its not a like, proper witchy one or anything.” He paused, “ Are you serious? I didn’t think you believed that kind of stuff.” Obi watched Mike pace (definitely stagger) back and forth, excited, maybe a little delirious.
“I didn’t think I’d have a dead wife but here we are.” Dead. There was the word he couldn’t say before. Time and alcohol does a lot to loosen one’s tongue.
“Fair point. Right then, I think I have some candles too.” He got up from the couch and went to find the items. Whatever Mike needed to deal with this, he was going to try and do and if that was to try and commune with the dead, then so be it.

Soon, they had set up a makeshift altar with a few cheap tea lights from the back of the cupboard and a photo of Alison on Mike’s phone propped up against a beer bottle. The two men sat on the floor with the ouijia board between them, ready for use. They had turned off the big light so that the room was lit only by the weak candles and Mike’s phone screen. The weird shadows gave both their faces a ghostly glow.
“The thing said we have to hold hands now.” Mike said reaching out to Obi, who laughed a little,
“Can’t believe you’re really going through with this mate.”
“Well I don't see why not, I mean, if we summon her, then we get to chat, if not then nothing happens and we go to bed. Anyway the article said you shouldn’t do this with any non believers, so I’m gonna need you to start believing.”
Mike gestured again with his hands, which Obi took, the two of them now forming a circle.
“Alright, alright,” he said, placating his friend, “I’ll believe whatever you need me to. Start us off then.”
Mike took a deep breath and began to recite a version of an incantation from the article,
“We are reaching out to Mrs Alison Cooper, please join us in our circle tonight if you are ready.”
They held their breath, eyes flicking around the room to see any disturbances a ghost might make. The candles continued to burn steadily and all they could hear was the hum of the fridge from the kitchen and distant late-night traffic. A minute passed, then two, neither of them moved, breathing as quietly as possible, their palms were uncomfortably clammy. They made eye contact, Obi shrugged and made a face. Mike took a deep breath, steadying himself.
“We are reaching out to Mrs Alison Cooper,” he tried again, “please join us in our circle tonight if you are ready.” Then he added, a little desperately, “Please Alison, it’s Mike.”
Another minute passed with just the excruciating silence and their own breathing, after which Obi whispered,
“Let’s try the board.”
Mike nodded and they let go of their hands, both wiping them on their shirts with a little disgust, then placed them on the planchard and waited expectedly. When nothing happened Obi whispered pointedly,
“I think you need to ask a question mate.”
Of course he has to ask a question, Mike clearly hadn’t thought this far, what was he even wanting to ask Alison if her ghost did show up? He went for the most obvious option.
“Alison? Are you there? If you are in the room with us please move the uh, pointer thingy to yes.”
Another expectant silence. The planchard did not move an inch. The air felt deader than Alison was and Mike’s faith began to wane.
“Fuck it.” He breathed it more than said it, then cleared his throat and addressed the air above him where he supposed a ghost might be floating.
“Alison, if you can hear me, I want you to know I love you, course, I know you know but I don’t want you to forget. I also want you to know that I’m gonna find you. I don’t really know what that means right now or why I even think I can, but I know that our paths will cross again. I just feel it. I’m not gonna do anything stupid, well… not more stupid than usual, but I’m not done yet. With us. And I don’t think you are either, there was just so much more to do... I just hope wherever you are, you’re okay. If you get reincarnated into a dog or something I hope you get nice owners. Whoever gets you next, I hope they’re kind to you. I treasure the time I had with you. I love you. Wherever you are, wait for me. Please”
His voice wobbled a little on the last words. He sniffed and lifted his hands from the planchard, then leant back against the couch with a shaky exhale.
“That’s it then?” Obi asked, standing gingerly to turn on the light.
“Spose. Dunno why I thought it would work.” Mike took his phone from the coffee table they’d used as an altar, giving Alison’s photo one last look before returning it to his pocket, then blew out the candles. The combination of oncoming sobriety and the assault of the overhead light made the whole ritual feel a little silly.
“Maybe it did.” offered Obi.
“I doubt it.”
“All the same, seems like you needed that.”
Mike yawned dramatically. “Seems I need to sleep.”
“Seems you do.”
They packed things away and readied themselves to sleep. Mike had been staying on Obi’s couch since Alison died, it all seemed a little softer when he didn’t have to be in their, now his, too empty apartment. Here he was a guest and couldn’t waste his entire day moping since his fear of inconveniencing his friend seemed greater than his desire to mope. Perhaps he was just staving off the inevitable depression as long as possible. He’d have to deal with the apartment and the sadness eventually, but for now, he set an anticipatory glass of water and pack of paracetamol on the coffee table and laid down on the slightly lumpy couch for a restless night’s sleep.

***
Light streamed in from Obi’s living room window, waking Mike and searing right through to his brain. He was sweaty and his head hurt and his mouth tasted like bile. Groggily, he reached for the water and paracetamol somebody had had the foresight to place on the coffee table, and gulped down two tablets before flopping back onto the couch. Sleep reclaimed him for a little longer before some awful construction started outside. The noise rattled around his head and undid any of the hard work done by the paracetamol. Obi’s apartment was on a busy road and the jackhammers had woken him up the last few days. No way he was going to get any more sleep. He groaned and did the next best thing to sleeping: grabbing his phone to numb his brain with social media. When he opened instagram, he remembered the overwhelming influx of messages from friends, family and anyone he had ever met or not met apparently, expressing their condolences. He promptly clicked out of the app. For a moment his hangover had obscured his grief, but now they danced together in his brain, like two little imps bumping around and making him wish that he too was… well, surely he didn’t truly wish for that. He opened his browser instead, hoping for something inane on youtube to distract him but was faced with his searches from last night.
“Sayons”
“Sayonce”
“Saionce”
“Saions”
“How to taklt o dead ppl”
“Seance”
“How to do seance”
“Is does seance works?”
“Proffesional saence person what is called”
“Oricale near me”
The last search had rendered some results. He scrolled various websites and ads that promised tarot readings and palm readings and fortune tellings. None seemed particularly interesting or special. For some reason, he was curious enough to click past the first page of google and on the third page, one website caught his eye:
“VISIT THE UNDERWORLD, FIND WHO YOU’RE LOOKING FOR.”
He clicked on the link, which took him to a site that looked like it hadn’t been updated since 2006. It had a vaguely, possibly offensive, Greek theme, someone had clearly had fun designing the website. There was frustratingly little information on the site itself, it simply read:
“The Oracle Theophania.
Receive your prophecy.
Find what you are searching for.”
Below it was a number. That was it, that was the whole website. No address, no bio, no testimonials, no further information. Mike had no idea why, but he somehow felt that this was his best bet. The seance last night probably didn’t work because they were drunk and he had no experience and Obi didn’t actually believe. But Mike knew he wasn’t finished trying to contact Alison, for some reason, her death had given him newfound faith in the paranormal.
“Fuck it.”
He called the number.

Chapter Text

Morning came pouring through the window, the sky was overcast again and hung almost oppressively over the house; seemingly wanting nothing more than to spill past the tattered curtains and onto Alison.
Upon returning to the house, Alison and Rohr had gone their separate ways, her to her newly assigned bedroom and him into the deep recesses of the house to sleep. She’d been exhausted and sleeping seemed the best way to pass her first night of eternity. Succumbing to that lumpy, dusty mattress, she slept heavily and dreamlessly.

Awake now, she could hear movement, creaking floorboards and muffled conversation, everyone else going about their morning routine as they must have done for aeons before she got here. Normally, she and Mike would make breakfast together, but Mike wasn’t here and she wasn’t even sure if this new life included breakfast. She pushed Mike out of her brain. Not now. Steeling herself, Alison sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, rubbed the sleep and dust and thoughts from her face and stood up to go downstairs and face the day.

Down the creaky hall and the creaky steps, she found her way to the common room where she’d been introduced to everyone the night before. Suit no pants, (Julian?) and Rohr, sat across from each other, a small round chess table between them. Neither noticed her, Rohr’s brow somehow more furrowed than at rest, Julian’s fingers steepled and resting on his lips, both leant forward, intensely scrutinising the game before them. After a tense moment, Rohr picked up a piece and moved it.

“Horsie go dooka dooka and take queen.” He hummed and took the piece, adding it to a pile of Julians’s fallen pieces.

“Well that’s not fair, ape!”

“Tis.”

Julian sighed theatrically and surveyed the board.

Alison took a step to leave quietly, but the noisy floorboards betrayed her and alerted the men to her presence. Rohr shifted towards her and smiled.

“Al-ee-son! First night in house, is nice and dry isn’t it? Julie, you meet Al-ee-son yet?”

Julian, still calculating his next move, glanced up from the board,

“Ah yes, hello. Rook to E7.”

Both of them had returned their focus to the chess game now that Alison’s interruption had been sufficiently addressed, they saw no further need to talk to her it seemed. She hadn’t even gotten a word out.

As she made her way to leave she bumped into Pat, who was much more attentive. They stood in the door frame and smiled at each other, her awkwardly, him earnestly.

“Alison! Good to see you’re up. How’d you sleep?” He faced his body toward her, beaming up at her under his oversized moustache.

“I slept okay, yeah. Do you people have breakfast in this place?”

“No, sadly not. No food, no hunger… apparently. I would love a scotch egg wouldn’t you!”

He laughed a little too hard and a little too tightly, Alison was obliged to return a smile.

No food. Grey sky. Dead. This place just kept getting better and better. She looked at Rohr and Julian, thoroughly engrossed in their game. Something had been bothering her about it.

“Shouldn’t he be in the boat?”

“Who?”

Alison gestured to Rohr, hunched, brow furrowed, moving his knight.

“Robin? It hasn’t gone 9am yet Alison, you see, it's a job and we are entitled to our rest!”

This surprised Alison, she’d assumed that he was the only one who rowed the boat, none of the others seemed like the type to do hard labour.

“Oh, so who’s on the boat now?”

“No one! The people can wait, you know. We’re not sure how but they only appear when Robin is out on the boat, they must go somewhere else before here, can’t imagine where, wouldn’t want to get stuck there!”

He laughed, then continued,

“Besides, its not like any of us could go on the boat, he won’t let us, fine by me, never liked the water much. Come on then!”

He turned and Alison dutifully followed wherever they were going. Not like she had anywhere else to be. Mulling the new information over in her mind, she considered the idea that this might become her job, escorting people through the gates. They walked down some stairs, the whole place seemed to be made of stairs.

“So it's like a 9-5 then?”

“If you like, can’t do the same thing all day and it's nice to have some structure, makes things feel normal.”

Out the landing and out onto the grass under the grey sky. It seemed like the air should have been crisp and she might have even been able to see her breath, but she was dead, so she saw and felt nothing. She followed Pat to the top of the garden, where she could see the Captain waiting by the gate. As the approached, Pat addressed her over his shoulder.

“Cap has agreed to show you the ropes on your first day, he can be a bit short but he’s got a good heart underneath.”

The ropes? First day? But before she had any time to consider anything, the Captain had turned around and began to stride stiffly towards them.

“Alison, Patrick.” He barked, “Good to see you this morning, I trust you slept well?”

He turned on his heel and joined them in walking to the gates he had just come from. It all seemed a little unnecessary to Alison, this formality, but she supposed he must be a Captain by nature as well as name.

“Sure did!”

Pat smiled his earnest smile, the Captain nodded curtly, but his soft eyes betrayed that good heart Pat had mentioned. Now, he looked to her expectantly, his gaze not quite so soft for the newcomer.

“Yes, uh, sir, I slept fine thank you.”

She didn’t quite feel like explaining her fruitless adventure right now.

“Jolly good.”

He marched to the gate and stopped abruptly.

“Right then, Patrick here tells me you will be learning the workings of our unit. He has asked me to show you what to do when you are on gate duty, so we shall start there today.”

Alison just nodded, she was a little overwhelmed by the sudden responsibility, but knew it was best to just go along with the odd men’s plan for her. She didn’t want to rock the boat on her first day.

“Right then!”

This from Pat, who clapped his hands and rubbed them together, clearly pleased with his work.

“I’ll leave you to it then. It’s about to be 9am now so folks will be coming through soon.”

“Has Robin gone down yet? We cannot begin until-”

“Oh I know, him and Julian have been playing chess again, but he’ll be down soon don’t worry. In the meantime you can tell Alison here everything she needs to know. Cheerio then!”

With that Pat gave Alison a smile, then turned on his heel and hurried back to the house to do… something. It didn’t seem she had much say in what was going to happen today. The Captain watched Pat go, then, he turned to Alison and began to give his spiel.

“So Alison, every day at 09:00 hours we begin our work. All of us here, Humphrey notwithstanding for obvious reasons, take it in turns to perform the various roles to guide people to the field. In time you will learn all of the roles and assist us in this matter, but today we will start with gate duty, understood.”

“Yes, Captain, I-”

“Jolly good.”

And so, he continued his explanation; where to stand, how to speak to the people in line and on and on and on in excruciating detail. As he talked, Robin ambled cooly past on his way to his post, Mary in tow. They chatted idly as they walked and Alison wondered what they might talk about after all this time. By her dress, Mary seemed to be a peasant of some sort, medieval? Renaissance? She wished she’d paid more attention in history but she just cannot place her. Either way, that must mean she had been around for a few hundred years at least, and Robin, (Rohr?) had to be at least 1000 years old, because they had clothes 1000 years ago right? Yes, Jesus lived 2000 years ago and he definitely had clothes, not furs, which meant that-

“Alison!”

The Captain snapped her out of her piss poor review of western history.

“Our first guests will be arriving soon and we must be ready to greet them, do you understand what I have told you?”

She nodded, deciding it best to just pretend she’d listened. Guests. He made it sound like a hotel. She supposed it was, in a strange way, somewhere to be and be looked after on your way to somewhere else. More like a roadside motel than a resort perhaps, but the idea still worked.

“Right then, look sharp. Incoming!”

She turned to the forest, their first guest for the day was arriving, holding Mary’s skirts in one hand, and a well loved teddy bear in the other. Imaginary breath caught in Alison’s throat. It was going to be a long eternity.

Chapter Text

The street smelt like wee. It was overpowering really. He hadn’t been to his part of the city before, probably because of this fact. He’d had to write the address down on a piece of paper as it was relayed to him over the phone, real old school. Mike squinted at the paper, then looked up at the door in front of him. It was blank except for the number 222, squeezed between a sex shop and an ancient newsagency on a street that stank of piss and Mike had to admit that this was the perfect place for something stupid and shady and probably a scam.

Definitely a scam.

But Mike is hungover and his wife is dead and he really wants to get away from the smell and the suspicious trickle on the pavement and if he gets scammed then that's just god’s will at this point. So he turns the handle and the door swings open to reveal a set of stairs leading down.

Perfect.

Cautiously he walks down the stairs, they are weirdly sterile compared to the grime of the street, white and clean without a creak to be heard. At the bottom is a purple door, a hand painted sign reads:

The Oracle Theophania.
Who are you searching for?

A geometric grecian pattern borders the door as it did the website and at eye level is a small metal panel. Mike tries the handle but it does not budge.

Locked.

Well, he’s made it this far, so his next best option is to knock.
Tap. Tap taptaptap. Tap. Tap.

The silence that follows is uncomfortable, Mike’s been trying to avoid this.

Silence.

Space. To think, to back out. He presses his feet firmly into the floor; maybe his body will glue to the floor and his mind won’t steer it off course. He thinks of Alison instead, her smile, her laugh.

Close eyes. Inhale. Squeeze fingers. Exhale. Release jaw.

The metal panel slides open to reveal a pair of enchanting eyes. As they look him up and down Mike can see the eyeshadow is the same shade of purple as the door, except it shimmers and catches the light of the sterile hallway. Mike shrinks a little under the strength of the gaze and starts -

“Hi uh… Mike, I’m - I called? Earlier?”

The eyes crinkle and the panel slides shut. Mike can hear an almost comical number of locks being rattled and opened methodically, then, the door swings open. A young woman clips an enormous ring of keys onto her belt loop and looks up at him. She smiles, serpentine, then turns to the side to allow him through.

“Uh, thanks.”

He squeezed past, into a hallway that seemed a little wobbly, like maybe if he touched the wall he might fall through. There’s something swirling, uncertain in the air. He looks back at the woman who let him through, to discover she is just as wobbly as the hallway. Still smiling, there were a few too many teeth for her mouth.

His head swims back around to the hall and he wades towards the shadows huddled at its end. The shadows reveal themselves as a room, thick with purple. Purple drapes purple rugs purple dust purple smell? Did the Greeks like purple? Is this oracle even Greek? Wasn’t this kind of stuff normally Buddhist? How did the Greeks feel about reincarnation? Is this Tarot? How do the Buddhists feel about tarot? What about taro? Had he ever had taro before? God he should eat something, maybe one of the shops upstairs does a decent burger? What even is taro?

Somehow, he had been sat in a chair, table in front of him. He breathed in the thick, fruity air in slow breaths. A woman swam into view, she brought her hands forward on the table, her fingers were unnaturally long, veins protruding through thin skin. She drummed them on the table, once, twice, thrice. Her lips crinkled in on themselves with a sliver of plum lipstick, then parted and stretched upwards in a yellow toothed smile.

“Mike,” she breathed, “you wish to see Alison.”

He nodded dumbly, his head bobbling atop his spine. She retracted her fingers and stretched out a spindly hand, searching through the air until another hand appeared, placing a string on her palm. It was another woman, younger than the spindly one but older than the toothy one. Her eyes were milky, unseeing, yet she moved with an inexplicable exactitude. She ran her fingers along the string, over notch after notch to one larger than the rest, a knot where another strand was entwined. The other strand dangled limply. Both strings stretched upwards towards what Mike now saw was an impossibly high ceiling, like looking up from the bottom of a well. Strings of all colours and thicknesses wove the entire way up, some crossing the distance between the walls in the messiest, strongest web he’d ever seen.

Mike decided he’d seen enough of whatever that was and dropped his gaze back to where the three women now stared at him expectantly. The spindly one had wound the string around her finger, pulling it to make the entire web above them groan.

The toothy one grinned.
Great.

***
Mike had been laid on the table. The web loomed endlessly above him, stretching and squeaking as the women pulled at various threads, muttering to each other in hushed, reedy voices. They dipped in and out of his view, his head had been stabilised, or maybe he just didn’t want to move it in case he fucked the whole thing up. Or they killed him. Which is still a possibility. (Though maybe that would be the right move, he was trying to find his dead wife after all.)

The movement around him stilled and he felt three sets of hands on him, one set either side of his ribcage, one spindly set on his skull. He let his eyes close, if this was the moment he would really regret coming here, then he didn’t want to see it happen. He focused on his breath instead, breathing in deeply, then pressing all the air out of his lungs. As he exhaled, all the hands pressed into his flesh, as he inhaled, they gently left his body all together, only to return elsewhere on his next exhale.

Inhale, release.
Exhale, press.
Inhale, release.
Exhale, press.

The pressure became more expansive, each exhale more of his body was pressed down. He felt relaxed, liquidy, sieve-like. A hum began, a buzz, a rattle. Three voices whispered above him.

“You may go but you may not look back. You may go but you may not look back. You may go but you may not look back. You may go but you may not look back.”

He felt himself pass through the table, through splintering you may go wood and then through dense air but you may not to the concrete floor. The hum grew louder, look back. and he felt dirt scrape through you may go but his bones, tree roots scrape you may not look back. at his skin. His ribcage pressed you may go through but you may not his spine and his look back skull caved in youmaygobut on itself, youmay not lookback skin through muscle youmay go butyou through bone may notlook through marrow back as he descended, youmaygobutyoumaycrushed by the notlookback warm youmayweight of gobutthe earth, he burnedyouatmayit’snothotlookmoltenbackcore.youmaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygobutyoumaynotlookbackyoumaygo