The Last Ride
by Julia Feuerborn
Missouri State University
Julia Feuerborn is a recent graduate from Missouri State University where she studied Creative Writing and Theater. She has been on the staff of Moon City Press as a reader for both Fiction and Nonfiction. Quirk is her first publication.
You waited outside the house in your taxi, your dim headlights a dying fire on the road before you. Night calls were always better than day ones. There was something inherently sadder about people’s day being cut short rather than leaving while everyone was asleep. The former were usually caused by a tragedy, and the latter came on more peaceful terms.
Two figures emerged from the house and approached your taxi. Sometimes you were tempted to roll down your window and call out to them, but you knew that would be frowned upon. Someone might hear you, or you could scare off the new arrivals.
A knock sounded on the window, jolting you back into the present. A dark robed figure stood outside the taxi and motioned for you to roll the window down. You did as you were asked. You were greeted by the shadowy hood of Death that obscured any possible face that could be underneath. Behind Death was the translucent silver of a soul.
A murder, Death said, the voice not quite in your head, yet not quite spoken aloud, either.
You grimaced. Murder victims were always more skittish and made your job a lot harder. Once or twice, you had needed to chase a murdered soul down the street before they’d get into your taxi. But it was hard to blame them—their last moments had been full of terror, and fear hadn’t quite escaped their body, even if they had no memory of it.
You got out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the cab. With a nod of approval, Death melted into the shadows, already moving onto the next soul.
Without the dark void of Death standing in the way, you got your first look at your passenger. To your surprise, the soul was a man, had probably been in his forties. Murder victims were usually young women. You couldn’t help but wonder who this guy pissed off to end up here. There was a time when you would have been tempted to ask, but you knew better know. The souls knew as little about their past lives as you did.
The soul glanced around like a lost puppy. Finally, his eyes landed on you and the beckoning lights of your taxi.
“Who are you?” the soul demanded. “Who—who am I?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I know someone who will. Come sit in my taxi, and I’ll take you to them.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Look around—is there anyone out here to help you? Your options are a little limited.”
The soul took a hesitating step forwards. You continued holding the door open, careful not to move and scare the soul. He slowly made his way towards you, like a moth drawn to flame. A soft click sounded behind him. Someone climbed out the upstairs window of the house and onto the roof. Nobody would be able to see you, your taxi, or the soul—you were dead, after all—but that wouldn’t stop the soul from spotting the person on their old roof.
Sure enough, the soul stopped at the sound and frowned. “What was that?” he asked, beginning to turn around.
“Hey! Look at me! Focus on me, and we’ll get you to where you belong,” you said.
Whoever was on the roof was certainly this man’s killer. There was no doubt in your mind that if he saw them, he would run after them out of instinctual rage. It would be nearly impossible for you to track him back down, and his soul would be lost in the world. Death hated when souls were lost to the living world. Death didn’t have time to track down lost souls and bring them back, which left the souls to wander the living world lost and confused. Often times, these souls were the ones who haunted places out of their residual anger caused by their deaths.
The person on the roof climbed down and darted into the bushes. You hated the thought of letting them get away, but it was in this soul’s best interest. Besides, it wasn’t like you could do anything to stop the murderer.
The soul finally gave in and got into the backseat of your taxi. You quickly shut the door and made your way back to the driver’s seat. You took off before the soul even had a chance to buckle up—it wouldn’t do him any good anyway.
After a mile or so, the shadows around the taxi lengthened. One by one, the street lights blinked out, and the darkness thickened. Shadows clung to the windows, blocking out the living world around the taxi. The road beneath the tires softened, and you knew the taxi was sinking into the void. But you weren’t worried. This had become your daily routine. Though you imagined the soul was uncomfortable by the sinking sensation.
“Where are we going?” the soul asked from the backseat.
“The afterlife.”
The soul sat up straight. “What?”
“Don’t worry, you’re safe.”
“Safe? How can I be safe? If we’re going to the afterlife then that means I’m…I’m…”
“Dead, yes. You are dead. Take a look at yourself if you don’t believe me.”
The taxi stopped sinking, allowing you to continue down the invisible road you’d come to know so well. There wasn’t much to look at down in the void; the windows revealed only deeper and darker blacks than the living world could ever imagine. You glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the soul as he inspected his body. He stared at his hand in awe, or rather through his hand. Every soul you drove looked the same: entirely transparent but with a silvery-blue hue that made them visible. You knew you looked the same, but it was easy to forget; you didn’t exactly spend all day looking in a mirror.
“So if I’m…dead,” the soul began, testing out the word, “then are you also dead?”
“Yes.”
You thought that last bit was obvious but decided to give the guy a break.
“What is the afterlife like?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Never made it that far. I was pulled to drive the ferry before I ever stepped foot out of my own ride.”
“Oh.”
You could hear the disappointment in his voice. It probably was the time to give him instructions before he started to panic.
“I can tell you what you’re supposed to do, though,” you said. “I’m going to stop the cab by the ‘entrance’ of the afterlife. Once I do, you’ll exit the cab and start walking forward. Don’t worry about getting lost. You’ll feel pulled in the right direction, or so I’m told. I’ve yet to have any of my passengers run into a problem.”
“That’s actually helpful, thank you.”
The darkness around you began to lighten to shades of midnight blue and deep purple. You could faintly make out the outlines of towering mountains—what was up there, you could only guess. The closer you got to the soul’s stop, the more he leaned forward as if whatever force guided the souls already had a hold on him.
You supposed some type of force was guiding you, too. After all, there were no marking as to where you were to drop off the souls, yet you somehow always knew exactly where to stop the taxi. It was the closest you’d ever get to entering the afterlife.
You stopped the taxi and barely had time to throw it into park before the soul was clambering to unbuckle and open the door. He paused before stepping outside.
“Thanks, uh, for the ride,” he said.
“No problem.”
He nodded, then exited the cab. You watched as he took his first cautious step in the new terrain. After that first step, however, any hesitancy was gone. The soul straightened up and started forward. A few steps later, he disappeared.
You shook your head. Everytime, the souls vanished without warning. You had no idea where they went or why they disappeared. You could only assume they were summoned for judgement or the like. But you’d never gone through that.
***
Your own ferry ride was fresh in your mind, though you had no idea how long ago it had been. Time had more or less lost its grip on you once you started ferrying souls. Death had come for you at the break of dawn. You can still remember the sun rising behind the hills as you stepped into the cab that would take you away from whatever life you lived. But it was almost a relief. You lost all your memories after you died, just like all the souls you would ferry. At least by leaving, you didn’t feel guilty for not remembering.
The sun painted the sky with an array of oranges and yellows, colors you knew but had no memory of learning. You stared at the sky for as long as the taxi remained in the living world. The changing colors soothed you. It almost felt poetic: a new day dawning as your life drew to a close.
Your taxi driver hadn’t said much. You got the sense they were tired. When you asked how long they had ferried souls, they couldn’t tell you.
“Too long,” they said.
The taxi sank into the void not long after that. You asked why they drove in the living world at all when they were just going to sink into the ground.
“It’s supposed to calm new souls,” they answered. “And the ferry needs some momentum to change between worlds.”
You thought that was strange. Though you had to admit, the drive had calmed you considering you just learned you were dead.
Your driver gave you the same spiel you would give to all of your passengers, though much more monotone. You sat back in your seat, waiting for the pull that would tell you where to go. Before you could ever experience the sensation, however, the taxi screeched to a halt.
The dim headlights illuminated what you could only guess was Death. You hadn’t gotten a good look at Death when your soul had been collected. Even with the extra light, it was hard to make out any remarkable features.
Death glided to the driver’s seat, and your driver rolled down their window. In a bought of what you deemed poor judgement, they started yelling at Death.
“What are you doing?” they demanded. “I could have hit you!”
It would not matter if you had, Death said. I cannot be killed.
“Well, whether you can be killed or not, you could have endangered my passenger—”
—who is dead, and also cannot be killed.
Your driver wisely shut their mouth, but their silvery face was still full of anger. Death’s faceless hood turned towards you. You held your breath despite the fact that you no longer needed to breathe. You felt like a fishing line had been caught in your sternum and pulled you to where Death stood outside the taxi. Somehow, you expected Death felt the same.
Death pointed at you with a hand so engulfed in shadows you could barely make out its outline. It took all of your willpower not to unbuckle and scramble your way to Death.
Come with me.
You didn’t need to be told twice. You practically fell out of your seat trying to get outside the taxi and hurried ungraciously to Death’s side. Once by Death’s side, you could feel the cold emptiness radiating off of Death in a way similar to a void. Death’s cool fingers latched around your wrist, and the two of you melted into the surrounding shadows. When you came to, you were in a different taxi. You barely had time to register your surroundings before you felt a hook in your chest like a faint pulse, urging you to go forwards. Your hands flew across the controls as if they had a mind of their own, and in no time you had the taxi moving in the direction the pulse was directing you.
***
You felt that pull again mere moments after the soul you ferried had disappeared into the shadows. That pull was Death calling to you, telling you where the next soul was. Just like your first time ferrying, your hands took on a mind of their own and directed you out of the afterlife and back into the living world. There was always a feeling of desperation whenever Death called you. Maybe it was Death’s constant need to move rubbing off on you. Death had so many places to be, so many souls to gather, and there was no time to waste when it came to ferrying souls.
The dark shadows melted away from your taxi, and you found yourself in another suburban area. The roads felt oddly familiar. It was possible you’d collected many souls in this area, though it was hard to be sure—you had ferried millions upon millions of souls in your time, and the living world had started to blur together.
The pull of Death lead you through the streets. Death must have been in an even bigger hurry than usual, for you navigated through the neighborhood with an ease you’d never felt before. The dark and endless night started to fade to the first hints of dawn, with the black sky fading to more of a gray. Your trips between the living world and the afterlife never felt long, though the living world disagreed. Your taxi seemed to have its own laws of time it followed. Sometimes you would try and guess what time of day you had emerged into, though you had no way of ever knowing if you were right.
You were lead to a quaint little bungalow that didn’t quite blend in with the surrounding houses. A single light illuminated the kitchen window, and you could see someone moving around inside. How sad. They were starting their day unaware they just lost someone dear to them.
Something rustled in the bushes. Your mind immediately jumped to another murderer. Could you really be so unlucky as to get two murdered souls in one night?
Instead, a jack terrier ran into the front yard. You froze and stared at it. Animals had proven themselves to be hostile.You learned to avoid them, which was unfortunate because this dog looked especially cute. You watched as the dog pressed its tiny snout against the ground and started sniffing, its short little tail wagging.
An overwhelming sense of longing came over you, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to go and pet the dog. But that wouldn’t be wise. You needed to be ready for whenever Death came with the new soul. You simply didn’t have time to go out and pet a dog, especially when said dog most likely wouldn’t be friendly. Dogs especially liked to chase souls. Not that they could cause any harm if they caught one, but there were some instincts that stuck with you. Cats, on the other hand, simply glared at souls threateningly, but almost never made a move against souls. You highly doubted a dog as energetic as this one would take a more catlike, passive attitude if you approached it. Oh well. You could at least watch the dog until Death arrived.
You glanced out the window, but the dog was gone. You tried to push down the disappointment. It was probably for the best that the dog had gone; you couldn’t have it noticing you and barking until the entire neighborhood was awake.
Just as you started to relax back into your seat, a scratching came from the driver side door. You rocketed back up and looked down through the window. Outside your door sat the jack terrier, its tail thumping against the ground in excitement. You found your hands reaching for the handle and, against all better judgements, opening the door. The jack terrier propped itself up against the doorframe, its long red tongue lolling out of its mouth. Instinctively, you reached down and scratched behind its ear. The dog closed its eyes and leaned into your hand. Breath you didn’t need hitched in your throat, and remnants of tears you didn’t have stung at the corner of your eyes. It took all your willpower to not scoop the jack terrier up and keep it as your new companion.
Before you had the chance to dognap the jack terrier, its eyes flew open. It sprang backwards, a growl building in its throat, and ran around the taxi. You followed your new friend with your eyes and quickly found the reason for its change in demeanor.
Death glided down the driveway, a silvery soul in tow. The jack terrier started barking and charged at Death.
Don’t kill it! you wanted to scream, but the words were stuck in your throat.
Thankfully, Death ignored the rampaging dog. As soon as the jack terrier reached Death, it passed right through Death’s robes as if they were smoke. The jack terrier stumbled to a stop, looking around in confusion.
You quickly got out of the taxi and opened the door to the cab for the new soul. Behind Death, the jack terrier got up and trotted to the backyard, oblivious of what was happening behind it.
Organ failure in her sleep, Death told you as the soul got into the cab.
You definitely could tell the soul died a peaceful death by how relaxed she was acting. She didn’t even bat an eye as you closed the door behind her, sealing her fate.
By the time you turned around, Death was gone, on to the next soul. For a moment, you wished the jack terrier would come back so you could say goodbye. Instead, you made your way back around to the driver’s seat and started the car back up.
The soul in the back stared silently out the window as you drove. She still had not talked by the time the taxi was engulfed in shadows and transported to the afterlife. You glanced at her in the rearview mirror. This soul was fairly young—probably in her mid twenties. You felt a strange connection to her, possibly because you acted the same way during your first ride. Maybe she would end up ferrying souls, too.
“How are you doing, miss?” you asked, trying to break the silence.
“I think I’m dead,” the soul said.
“Oh?” You’d never had anyone cut to the chase so quickly before.
“Yes. I’m guessing you are as well based on your transparent appearance.”
“That would give it away quite easily, wouldn’t it?”
“It would.” She paused for a moment. “Where are we going?”
“Unfortunately, to the afterlife.”
“I don’t think that’s unfortunate. Unfortunate would not being admitted to the afterlife.”
You didn’t respond, her words striking a little too close to home. Technically speaking, you hadn’t been admitted to the afterlife.You weren’t sure if you considered yourself unfortunate, but maybe driving souls to their final destination wasn’t the best way to spend eternity. You’d never thought about it that way before.
She seemed to notice your change in demeanor. “I’m sorry, did I offend you?”
You looked into the rearview mirror to find her staring at you. Your eyes met hers and a jolt of familiarity passed through you so strong that you almost crashed the taxi. You quickly regained control of the taxi—you didn’t want to know what was just off the road. Had that happened to your driver when they had looked at you?
“I’m fine. I’ve never made it farther than my taxi,” you explained. “You, on the other hand, might be luckier than me.”
She nodded and stayed silent, opting to stare out the window instead. What was she seeing? You assumed every soul saw the same dark abyss you saw out the windshield, but how could you be sure? You’d never thought to ask before. You continued to glance at her as you drove. All you known since dying was the feeling of the steering wheel under your ghostly fingers and the purr of the engine of your otherworldly taxi. What was it about her that seemed more familiar than either of those things?
Suddenly, the soul sat up straight, her eyes no longer trained outside the window but on the dark road ahead. You were shocked at how close you were to her stop. She distracted you so much you almost forgot to do your job.
“What…what is this feeling?” she asked, straining against her seatbelt.
“You’re being pulled to where you’re supposed to go,” you explained. “It acts as your guide to the afterlife. Following the pull leads you to where you’re meant to be.”
She grew more restless the closer you got to her stop. You had almost reached her destination when she unbuckled her seatbelt. Before you could ask her what she was doing, she clambered into the front seat, grabbing your shoulder for support. As soon as she touched you, shock coursed through your entire body and you slammed on the breaks in response.
Her hand left your shoulder, but you could still feel the impression of it. Images flashed before your eyes. The soul was a toddler sitting on a swing set. Your hands reached out and pushed the little seat, sending the swing flying through the air. A child’s shriek of delight echoed in your mind.
The soul was a child now. She sat on the ground, cradling her knee. Muffled sobs rang through the air. A bike sat nearby, its wheels still spinning from the crash. The perspective lowered closer to the soul. She blinked upwards, tears shining in the corners of her eyes. She let go of her knee to reveal a nasty scrape. She reached her arms up and you swept her off her feet.
The scenes flew by in a quicker succession. The soul removed her hands from her eyes and giggled as she was presented with a jack terrier puppy. She was a teenager, sitting in the driver seat of a car. The scene shook with the stopping and starting of a car under a new driver. She walked by the podium at her graduation, a bright smile erupting on her face as she turned and showed her diploma. The soul was in a long, white dress, walking down the aisle with a bouquet in her hands. She knelt over a hospital bed, her face full of worry. She spoke softly and encouragingly words of love. The soul reached out and placed her hand on your shoulder, the same way she did now.
A noise drew you back to the present. The soul threw open the door and practically fell out of the taxi. You watched, unable to move as you realized what about this soul was different. She wasn’t another driver like you. She wasn’t meant to ferry souls. What child wanted to be like their parent, anyway?
The soul got to her feet and started running. You suddenly snapped into action. You couldn’t lose her again.
You threw open your own door, barely taking off your seatbelt before bolting to your feet. You were tempted to call out her name, but you couldn’t remember it. How could you have ever forgotten her name? The soul was far down the road, the shadows pulling at her, trying to make her one of their own. You had to say something, to stop her from leaving you like you had done to her a lifetime ago.
“Wait!” you cried.
But it was too late. The shadows claimed the soul, and your daughter was lost to the afterlife.
Interview with the Author
1. What was your inspiration for this piece?
My inspiration for The Last Ride was the Greek myth Charon who ferries souls to the afterlife. Charon and his boat felt too ancient for our modern world, though, so I thought of taxies, which ferry people from one place to another. I combined the two aspects and wrote the story about a soul who helps souls cross over to the afterlife despite never being there before.
2. What is your creative process? (How do you go about writing or creating?)
During my college career, I have become well acquainted with outlines. I used to despise them in highschool, but I found writing with no direction took longer and produced a messier story. Now I try to map out the major events in a story and let the rest come naturally. Sometimes, a story will not get to the end or even ends differently than the way I intended when outlining. Usually the unintentional ending works better with the story, though, so more often than not I keep it. I’m also a major perfectionist, which makes my writing process extremely slow as I won’t move on until a sentence or beat is just right. But being satisfied with a story when writing it makes editing a lot easier since I won’t finish it until I like the story.
3. What are some influences on your artistic process?
The queer community tends to influence my work greatly. I am one of those people who will watch a show or read a book for the promise of a queer character. And I enjoy writing inherently queer works. I purposely left out any indication of “your” gender in the last ride to make the piece more gender neutral. Second person narrators who do have a gender tend to take me out of the story, so I always write gender neutral narrators when using second person. I like to think it makes the story more immersive.
4. Is there anything more you’d like our readers/viewers to know about you or your work?
I am a huge fan of fantasy—it’s my favorite genre to both read and write. I rarely write anything without some sort of mystical or magical element to it. Also, I’m scared of ghosts, but it is hard to write a story about the afterlife without ghosts.