Purgatory

                “Congratulations! You’re dead!” I still couldn’t see. That truck crashed into my little Prius before I had time to blink. I could hear my dad’s condescending words in my ears, “Always watch the road! Don’t go flipping channels or playing with your texting machines!”  I look away for one second to change the station because Rachel, my girl for the past 6 months, was blasting the new Lady Gaga song. It was driving me crazy! Next thing I know, Rachel’s screaming and I look up to see I’m in the wrong lane. The rest is pretty self-explanatory. Truck versus Prius, truck wins.

                “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, though not really shocked. “So this is heaven?”

“Who do you think you are, a saint?” the man said. He wore a pure white robe and held a golden staff. Behind him were two escalators, one going up, the other going down. “You are in purgatory. In my opinion, you should have been sent downstairs, if you know what I mean. But that’s the big guy’s decision, not mine.”

“Wait so I’m not in either heaven or hell? I’m in between?” I said, filled with confusion.

“Technically, yes. God made purgatory so people, like you, have a chance to look back on their sins. It’s a complicated process but humans never fully grasp it.” He tossed me a helmet. “Put this on and begin your journey. Also, just let life go as it did before, or face the punishment of a new life.”

New life? That made no sense. I had no idea what was going on. I decided it was in my best interest to put on the helmet. The “angel” guy was giving me this “I’ll throw you into the fiery depths of hell if you don’t put on that helmet” kind of look. The helmet gleamed in the gray light and was icy cold to the touch.  It seemed a little big for my head but I slid it on anyway.

The helmet squeezed tightly as soon as I placed it on my face. I tried to cry out but the helmet muffled my words. I clawed at the helmet with all my might, but it wouldn’t budge. I heard a click and then a blue light appeared inside the helmet. It began to form a tunnel and spin until I felt sick.

Then it stopped. It was dark. I felt a warm breeze against my skin. I began to see the silhouette of people around me. I was back in the alley. When I was young I’d lead my little militia around town and cause trouble. Was this the sin that kept me out of heaven? We never caused much trouble. We roughed some people up, vandalized property but that’s it.

“Hey boss,” Frost said. He was my right hand man, always had my back and was second in command. “What’s the plan?”

“Well John’s group always stays around the tavern. I think it’s about time we paid them a visit, seeing how they decided they can leave this group.” That’s right. I forgot that John talked some of the guys out of the group. They called themselves “The ‘Crocks” because we were “The ‘Gators.” I don’t remember why that agitated me so much; probably because I was raised a Florida Gators fan and that seemed like treason.

The entirety of “The ‘Gators” was there that night. Normally, only a small number of the guys would go out on “missions” while the rest guarded our base, the alley. This was too important to go shorthanded.