Just Another Day in the Office

by Skye Geraud

I glide into the office a few minutes early, a triple vanilla latte in one hand – they were out of sleeves, just my luck – and a black leather messenger bag on the opposite shoulder. I sign in and find the folder with my name on it, Lorelai Graves. It's a little thick today and I wonder if I've drawn the short straw again. I hope this whole, 'Haze the newbie' thing doesn't last too much longer, I think to myself, thumbing through the pages in the file. Oh well. Every new name is a few more dollars in my paycheck. 

Looks like I got stuck with... plane crashes. It didn't seem too bad upon first glance, until one realizes just how many seats fit on the average passenger plane. 30,000 feet. Almost never any survivors. This is going to be a long day. 

By 9:00, I've already got my spreadsheet open, typing the data in almost without looking at it. Name. Age. Time of death. Location. Most of my coworkers are already gone by the time I'm done, having pulled their folders from the cabinet and blinked out. I decided on like, day two, that I was going to do the paperwork first and worry about errors at the end of my shift. The last thing I wanted to do was go from here to the Other Side a few dozen times only to have to come back to the office to do paperwork. 

My desk mate stands up across from me, folder in hand, just as I email myself the spreadsheet and log out. "Car crashes," she sighs, brushing her curly blonde hair behind one ear with perfectly manicured pink nails. "You?" 

"Yikes," I tell her. For all that my day is going to be long and exhausting, Angela's is going to be worse. She and I came in with the same batch of new recruits, both thinking we'd been offered horrible retail jobs with awful customers and even worse bosses. If only we knew. "They have a thing for throwing the worst ones to the new guys, huh?" I shoot a glance towards the ominous double doors which lead to the offices of the higher ups. I can practically see the dark fog and inky black tentacles leaking out from underneath the doors. "Plane crashes. What they lack in frequency, they make up for in size." 

I check my appearance in my phone camera as I stand up, smoothing my hands over my dark blazer and skirt. My high bun isn't a hair out of place and my glasses sit on my nose perfectly. It seems... wrong to wear too much color here. I guess Angela didn't get the memo. I chuckle at the memory of meeting her for the first time a few weeks ago. An Angela in a place like this? Might have accidentally tripped into the wrong profession. 

"Well, I'm off to-" I check the top of my spreadsheet. "Australia. Race you back?" 

Angela laughs and nods, and I get the feeling again that she's too happy for this place. "Maybe if we're fast enough, or insanely lucky, we'll get to clock out on time." 

I laugh, but mine is entirely sarcastic.

It’s the work of a moment to check the coordinates on the top page and blink over to a mostly deserted beach outside of Brisbane. It’s only mostly deserted at the moment because a commercial passenger plane has made a rather messy landing across a strip of sand, just narrowly missing the water. According to my paperwork, the plane was supposed to take off only about a half hour ago, so there must have been some kind of mechanical error that caused the pilot to turn around. 

I cringe as the tips of my heels sink into the sand. 

I’ve been told most of them can’t see me; only those who are waiting to cross over should be aware of my presence. It still doesn’t make the situation feel any less strange as I make my way over to the wreckage. Dark plumes of smoke rise up into the air, blotting out the sun in some places, making it hard to breathe. I know from experience that dark smoke means the fire is far from over, and I silently send a prayer out to whoever that I won’t be caught in an explosion if the fire reaches the fuel tanks. There was something about bodily harm in our onboarding contracts, something about being safe if we need to collect souls from a burning building or a sinking ship, but I don’t really want to test that theory quite yet. Or ever. 

I make my way over to the door, spying some broken windows with smoke and flames billowing out. The door handle burns as I try to wrap my fingers around it, but I find that it never becomes too much, and I’m able to pull the door open fairly easily. Huh. The hinges groan as the door moves and I lose my balance, falling backwards as the door disconnects from the body of the plane. No one notices when I pick myself up and brush the dirt off of my skirt. 

The pilot is alive, lying slumped in the cockpit, a trail of blood dripping down from her temple. The co-pilot, however, is less lucky. He appears to have been flung from the seat. I have no idea how he died. Biology was never my thing, and anyway, it’s not my job. I reach over and place a hand on his shoulder. A moment later his eyes open and he sits up, his consciousness separating from the body on the floor. 

“W-what happened? Did we – Did the plane-” he stutters, eyes darting about the space. 

I shake my head, a stern look on my face. Every name is another paycheck. It’s just a job. “It’s time to go,” I say gently, motioning to the body still lying on the floor of the cockpit. “You did what you could.” I have to stop myself from making a face. I’m not sure even I believe that words will do anything at this point. 

I take hold of his arm, pull the pretty-much-a-Buck-knife-but-technically-a-conduit-for -interdimensional-travel out of the pocket of my blazer, flip it open, and slash a line through the air. Immediately, the smashed windows and busted chairs gave way to a bleak room full of rows and rows of chairs. The fluorescent lights flicker and buzz above as people of all kinds sit in uncomfortable chairs, waiting for their numbers to be called. I grimace, pulling him towards the rift. “Sorry man. The In Between is the worst part. It will get better though. You’ll see.” He takes a small step forward and I tug him along. He’s still in shock. Hopefully he’ll be out of the In Between before the panic sets in.

The rift closes behind him and I turn towards the carnage in first class. One down.