Chapter 4: Heaven

I had to make this right; I had to save her!

Even though I was blinded by the glowing fog, I could still feel the bleeding girl in my arms. "Is this the Heaven she was talking about?" The fog slowly swirled around, but never formed an empty space clear enough to see through. "Hey!" I shouted, "Someone help me! Please!" If this was Heaven, there had to be someone here. Angels, God, or even more Reapers, I wished for them all. It was my fault she was dying, and I couldn't save her myself.
No answer came from the fog. No help was coming. In a gesture of helplessness, I sank down to my knees, and then even farther to an awkward sitting position. I was alone, expected to see this creature die in my arms.
I looked into her blood-streaked face. She had fallen unconscious from shock, but her expression was as if she were peacefully sleeping. This picture of innocence connected more thoughts in my head.
She was just doing her job. She was a Reaper, tasked to take my soul away from Earth. No, she was not a Reaper; she was a girl. I had resisted, and now she would die.
A tear fell and splashed against her face. My tear? Yes. It was. With clouded vision and shaking sobs, I cried for the girl. I lost track of time; I lost track of thought. In this world only us two existed, soon to become only one.
"Get up," commanded a stern voice.
My sobs ceased as I snapped my head straight. Two men stood side-by-side a few meters ahead. One wore robes patterned gray and white, the other gray and black. Both wore hardened, serious faces.
"Get up," repeated the one on the left, the one wearing the white pattern. "Take her, and follow us."
With opposing feelings of relief and fear, I obeyed and followed the pair through the gray fog.

At this point, I had no choice but to trust these strangers.

I could not tell the exact moment when I stepped into to office. Suddenly, I noticed the towering bookshelves and two great, wooden desks. The men walked to the other side and sat down behind the twin desks in unison. The one on the left spoke again. "Give the girl to him."
I scanned the "room", for it had no ceiling or floor besides gray mist, and no walls besides bookshelves. With a start, I saw that the person he mentioned stood silently behind me. Long, bleached hair almost completely obscured his face. I reluctantly passed her over to his care. A few spots of blood now stained his soft, white shirt. He turned and left, quickly losing focus.
"Now," the man on the left started, and I turned my body and focus toward him. "What to do with you?"
"We could throw him into Hell to disintegrate," the one on the right said, with a spark of passion.
"We could," the man on the left considered. "Or, we could recruit him-"
"He attacked my agent!" the right one interrupted, pounding his fist on his desk.
"Precisely why."
The right one leaned back in his chair and glared at the nonexistent ceiling. The left one leaned forward over his desk and addressed me.
"I am the Archangel Michael, and to my side is the Devil Lucifer. We are the Lords of Life and Death, respectively. Together, we run God. You have placed yourself in an unusual and difficult position, young Ghost. The girl you attacked was a Reaper, an agent of Lucifer's. At the present moment, her condition is uncertain; she might recover, or she might die."
Michael, the one on the left with white-patterned robes, waited a few moments for me to ponder his words. He focused on my face, and interpreted my thoughts. "Ask your question."
I hesitated a second before speaking, "Are you two... really..."
"Michael and Lucifer are the names we gave ourselves in the 1300's, when we rose to our current positions. Before that, we had different names, and before that, when we were still living, we had different names still. We took our names from the Cristian Bible because they were analogous to our duties. No, we are not the Michael and the Lucifer mentioned there."
Lucifer ceased looking at the gray sky and gazed intently at me. "Truth is, you caused quite a commotion. Usually, a Ghost like yourself can do little more than accept his fate. You, however, showed initiative and such strength. These are the ones we usually recruit to become Angels or Reapers. But this," he fanned his arms out, "has never happened before, and I am torn between destroying you and training you."
Michael opened a book that sad ready on his desk. "Aaron Daniel Schroeder," he read aloud. "Best friends with Brock Lysander. Crushing on," a smile touched one side of his face, "Christa Marian."
I felt myself flush, but kept a straight face. Michael continued, "Plays guitar and likes music, never thought much about the future, and is often apathetic." He turned to look at Lucifer. "That could be a problem if he is to become an Angel."
"Or a Reaper," Lucifer added.
"But there was that moment right when he arrived..."
They stopped and considered. I remembered how I cried for the girl. "Why?" I asked myself. "I don't know her, not even her name."
They both faced me directly and spoke in unison, "It is so. You will begin your work for God. Turn around and leave; you will find yourself in your new home."

This was the start of something new. Soon, I would begin a new life.