FicWad

My name is James Hardy, or at least it was before I died. Yes, I said, "died", dead as a door mouse; "death by oncoming truck" to be precise. Also, save your questions; I didn't see any bright lights (except for the trucks headlights), there was no voice of God or the Devil calling for me, no peaceful riverside flower bed with one of my relatives in a boat coming to get me, no Reaper, no nothing. All that happen was . . . actually, I'll get to that in a minute.

My life, though mostly uneventful, was good. At least by me. I was the middle child of three to a family well above the poverty line, not in the upper one percent mind you; but well to do. Mom was CFO and vice director of a sizable law firm, Dad work as a surgeon at a local hospital and was an average member of the board. Both of my parents cared for us all, but they had little to no time for family matters. My older brother Chris was what you'd expect for the would be heir to the family; a busy body perfectionist by day, crazy frat boy by night. How he managed as long as he did is still beyond me, but all in all; he was a stand-up guy. Neither a pushover, a geek, an honor roll snob or an obnoxious jock; but more like a slight mix of all. He never drank to get drunk, only to party. He had a stable relationship, unsurprisingly with the head cheerleader. A well-varied selection of friends from all walks of life and age groups. He really was a good person and a great brother. I more than realize that now I truly miss him; he always stuck up for me at school and home, even stood up to me when ever I got too full of myself, we helped each other through good times and bad. It was no fault of his own mind you, him and a few friends were heading around on night, looking for their usual good time; shame the other driver didn't get the memo. Poor dumb bastard had a blood alcohol level nearly three times the limit (if I remember correctly) and a cocktail of other fun drugs in his system, my brother was driving the other car; he and his best friend Randy were in the front seats, they didn't make it. "Dead on impact", the EMT's said, just like the other driver, the other two guys in the backseat got out with some bruises but could still walk away afterward.

Then theirs our little sister, Amber Li, or Amy as she prefers. Ho boy; where to start. Amy was the black sheep of the family, more so than even me (we'll get to that). Only thing Amy wanted to do was what all girls wanna do; you guessed it, have fun. That, and piss off our parents, which she did both brilliantly and frequently. Still, as life has taught most of us; if you wanna have fun you need money, and if you want money you get a job. Amy did not want to work, but she still wanted to and did; have fun often. How? How else would a pretty, early twenties, hot little mess of a party girl get money? For those of you who don't know, I'll tell ya soon.

As for me? I'm probably what they call a "Low-end" model son. I never had any ambition, or really any "wants" of my own. I never asked, begged, pleaded or borrowed money from my folks. I was the type to stay at home and let the web provide for me, I actually managed to run a fairly good business through my PC, bought and sold stocks and bonds, even managed a couple dozen sites to turn an OK profit and graduate college with a Masters in Business. And a few other smaller degrees, but hey; who's keeping track. I was never out of shape, I knew I had to be healthy, but I was never in shape either. I dated from time to time, even asked my High School girlfriend to marry me; she didn't. I've had nine-to-five part time jobs, office jobs, even did a stint as a janitor. As the saying goes; "I've wined and dined with Kings and Queens, I've slept in allies and ate Pork 'n Beans." A little bit of most but never too much, or enough. I'll be the first to admit; I had a rather dull life, but it was a good one. One I would want a "mulligan" for in a heart beat.

So how did I end up dead after all of this, funny story really, Roughly two months after my brother's funeral, the cloud of grief was still hanging over our family; except for Amy who carried on like it was business as usual. Having had more than enough of my sister, Mom and Dad decided that it was time to get away and really try to get over the loss of their beloved son, how; by going on a three and a half week cruise of course. I respectfully declined, (I always get seasick) and Amy had gone off on what I had though was one of her party sprees; she would go off to a club, get drunk, shack up with someone for a time, leave them to come home and get more money, rinse and repeat. The funny thing is; Moms job came with a certain hazard, before she was a CFO, she was a regular lawyer. During she time as said lawyer, she put away many criminals of all walks of life; including mobsters. One of which she had persecuted no less than three times over the course of eight to ten years. After his latest trip to the big house, he had enough of Mom. Just as they were about to leave their hotel, no sooner had they started the car, it detonated. With Chris fresh in the ground and now my parents on the receiving end of a complimentary cremation, you could tell I doubted my life could get much worse, I was wrong. After the death and sudden funeral, the inheritance was to be divided evenly between all living siblings. That was the idea, till my sister came in with a lawyer; through some faulty claims of being the legal inheritor, an extremely competent lawyer, and not a fair amount of bribery, she had everything. The inheritance, the house, a career, everything.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that she was railing the lawyer she brought, from moms on firm no less. The lousy SOB used this to climb, leaps and bounds up the corporate ladder, the inheritance money and my whore of a sister were just the cherry and sprinkles on top. I was thrown out of the house on the very same day. I didn't dare think, "How could this be worse!" I just knew somehow, somewhere, Murphy's Law was just waiting patiently for me; with a steel baseball bat. Tired, alone, and now homeless; I had set about town trying to reclaim what was left of my life before the vultures took that from me too. While I was walking through town, I was halted at a cross-walk, and that were I saw her. Her name was Jessica Creed, a charming brunette I had in High school; up till about 2 weeks after graduation, remember how I said I proposed to someone? Yep, her. And there she was, arm in arm with another guy, happy as I had ever seen her; and several months into her first pregnancy I'd wager, judging from the size of her belly. She had just taken his hand and was dragging him out on the cross, It all happened so quick I barely remember it all. The screeching of tires, the cries of the people, my legs moving out underneath me towards her. Their eyes went wide, like the proverbial deer in the headlights, then her eyes went wider as she realized who shoved her into her hubby and out of the road.

So, there you have it; within the span of three months or so, 38 years of life gone in a literal flash. The driver had supposedly fallen asleep at the wheel, if not that would have been my guess. Outside of dying, the saddest thing; this was the third time (at least) I didn't get to say goodbye. Not to Chris. Not to mom or dad, and now not to Jess. The last memory I had was of her shocked and sad expression. That's the worst part I think, regret. Not doing this or that, not going there, not going all the way. Not saying "hi" or "goodbye", "I love you", "I miss you", "I need you", "I'm sorry". Despite the sadness and regret, that was it. No tunnel of light, no voices, no reaper. Just me and the darkness. Alone in the cold; all I could do was just think, "If I could just have one more chance to redo my life, I'd jump for it, I'd pay for it. I'd ki . . . no not kill for it, that's stupid; kill for life. If I had just one more chance, one chance to try again; to experience life again and do everything I missed out on, and so much more." Before I had a chance to whine at the darkness again, I had realized I was being held. From dark and cold to bright and cold, I noticed I was smaller, being held by what looked like a man in white; before being rinsed and bundled into a blanket, then handed to an exhausted looking man, and a woman who; despite her good looks, looked like she had been run over (kinda like me, but pretty).
Well, guess something was listening in the dark.