The Next Person You Meet in Heaven(9)

He was right. Annie had no mouth. The words she was hearing were in her mind.

“Nobody can talk when they first arrive,” the boy said. “It makes you listen better. That’s what they told me, anyhow.”

Who?

“The first people I met.”

So you can hear me?

“What you’re thinking, yeah.”

Who are you?

“Sameer.”

Why are you here?

“I kinda have to be.”

Where am I?

“You still don’t know?”

He pointed to the window and the shifting colors of the sky.

“Heaven.”

I died?

“Boy, are you slow.”



Annie’s thoughts were spilling everywhere, like raindrops down a windowpane. She died? Heaven? The balloon crash? Paulo?

Where is my body? Why am I like this?

“I don’t know,” the boy said. “Was someone on earth taking you apart?”

Annie thought about the transplant.

Sort of.

“That could do it. Hey. Watch this.”

He pounded a flat button. The train whistle roared.

“I love that,” he said.

Please. I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t have …

“What?”

You know.

“Died?”

Yes.

“Why not? I did.”

But it wasn’t my time. I’m not old or sick. I’m just …

“What?”

Annie replayed her wedding night, stopping for the motorist, which led to the balloon crash, which led to the transplant, which led to this.

A person who makes mistakes.

“Wow,” the boy said, rolling his eyes. “Someone has self-esteem issues.”



With that, he pushed the wheel and the train accelerated wildly, lifting into the air, dipping, rising, turning as sharply as a race car.

“Whoo-eee!” he yelled.

Annie spotted a purple ocean up ahead. As the shoreline approached, she saw huge breaking waves and vast white foam.

Wait—

“Don’t worry. I’ve done this a buncha times.”

He dipped the train sharply and Annie braced for impact, but none came; just silent immersion and a boysenberry shade outside the windows.

“See?”

Where are we going?

“It’s more like ‘when.’ ”

He pulled the wheel upwards, and they emerged from the deep into what seemed to be a new world, more earthly in its appearance. The train slowed and joined a track by the edge of a small town, with tidy older houses of white aluminum siding.

“Get ready,” the boy said. He punched out the front glass, which flew away in a thousand shattered pieces. He yanked the brake levers and the train screeched to a halt, as he and Annie launched through the opening.

“Whoo-hooo!” he yelled as they soared. “Cool, right?” Then, somehow, they were standing by the tracks, no landing, no impact.

“Well, I thought it was cool,” he mumbled.



It was quiet now. The train was gone. Trees were barren and leaves covered the ground. The landscape turned a sepia patina, like an old film.

Please, Annie thought, I don’t understand.

“What?”

Anything. Why I’m here. Why you’re here.

“I’m here,” the boy said, “because when you first get to heaven, you meet five people from your time on earth. They were all in your life for a reason.”

What kind of reason?

“That’s what you find out. They teach you something you didn’t realize while you were alive. It helps you understand the things you went through.”

So wait. You’re my first person?

“Don’t sound so excited.”

I’m sorry. It’s just—I don’t know you.

“Don’t be so sure.”

The boy reached up and made a sweeping motion by Annie’s eyes, and instantly, her face was back. Annie touched her cheeks.

What did you—

“Relax. I don’t have cooties. Now watch. This is important.”

He pointed to the tracks. Annie’s vision was extremely sharp. Off in the distance, she saw a second train approaching, smoke coming from its stack. Beside it, a small boy was running to keep up, reaching out, stumbling, running again. Annie noticed his familiar features: black hair, caramel skin, striped shirt, cowboy holster.

Wait. That’s you?

“Younger and dumber,” the boy said.

What are you doing?

“I thought I could fly. I thought, ‘I’ll grab this train and hang on like a kite.’ ” He shrugged. “I was only seven.”

The running boy made another failed lunge. The final car was about to pass. With a clenched jaw, he pumped his arms and gave a last leaping attempt. This time he hooked his fingers around a rail on the rear platform.

But only for an instant.

The speed of the train ripped his arm clean off his body, leaving the boy in the dirt, stunned and screaming, his shirtsleeve thickening with blood. The severed arm fell off the rail. It dropped to the gravel and reddened the stones.

The boy looked at Annie.

“Ouch,” he said.