There was no way it could be foreseen; none of it. It almost happened too fast for the senses to register.
The black SUV came hurtling down the busy city street at an impossible rate of speed, swerving and careening between the other vehicles; in the distance, the wail of police sirens in pursuit. The SUV dodged to the right around a slow moving delivery van and was immediately on the tail of a small red economy car which swerved to the curb too late. The SUV plowed through its left rear fender sending the smaller car into a 180 degree spin. In an effort to move out of the way, the delivery van driver started to pull toward the curb, but in that precise moment, the SUV exited toward the left from the impact with the red car, aimed directly at the robust rear section of the van. Recognising the danger, the SUV driver overcorrected to the right which, in combination with the high rate of speed, caused the black SUV to begin an inexorable roll onto its side. With a screech and grind of metal, it fell to it’s side and continued rolling onto it’s roof, doing a slow pirouette toward the curb at about 60 miles per hour. The whole incident took less than 5 seconds.
The reason I am telling you this is so you will understand what happened next. You see, I was standing on the corner with a coffee and a newspaper in the precise point the SUV was about to travel through.
My coffee cup fell from my hand with the shock of the sound of tearing metal as the economy car started to spin only yards away. I had the time to notice two things: first, the panicked and frightened expression on the face of the young woman in the red car as she reached protectively toward the child in the car seat beside her and, second, the cup of coffee hit the ground and burst sending a spray of coffee over my trouser leg. By that time, the SUV was already on it’s roof and rushing toward me. I think I shouted. I think I threw my arms up in front of me, sending the folded newspaper in an arc upwards over my head.
And then it stopped. The SUV stopped about 4 feet in front of me, just on the verge of rising up over the curb and just beyond the reach of my outstretched arms.
‘Oh my God!’ I heard myself exclaim but then I realised that something was very wrong. The traffic was stopped. The newspaper hung suspended in air above my head. To my left, a young man in jeans and a ‘Misfits’ T-shirt was half way through a leap to remove himself from the trajectory of the SUV. All around me people in business suits were suspended with half-formed expressions of surprise and fear on their faces. Everything was stopped, immobile and silent.
As I struggled to comprehend the incomprehensible, I heard the click of heels on the black top and a young woman in a dark business suit with a briefcase appeared from the other side of the SUV. She walked with calm assurance and immediately made eye contact with me. She announced in a clipped British accent, ‘Mr. Perkins, you are dead.’
‘But…’, was all I managed for a response.
‘It’s quite certain, Mr. Perkins. In a moment, this vehicle is going to collide with your body and really make a terrible mess. But I’m here to make that transition easier for you if you would like.’
‘Yes…but…’, I continued to stammer.
‘Excellent. Now, you are 35 and still have some things left to accomplish, is that correct? Yes, very good. I think I can arrange for you to get on with those things in another life. Would you be agreeable to that, Mr. Perkins?’
‘But…my wife…’, I finally managed to say something aside from ‘but’.
‘Yes, your wife. I’m awfully sorry about that. However, she’s actually going to do quite well now you are gone. Oh, and your little girl is going to become a well known fiction writer.’
‘…little girl?’
‘Yes, your little girl. Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t I mention that you made your wife pregnant last Wednesday at 7:04 in the morning?’
In spite of the absurdity of the situation, I smiled at the thought of a little girl.
‘Now, Mr. Perkins, if you will just step over here with me, I think we can conclude our arrangements.’
I obediently followed the young woman through the maze of mannequin-like people on the sidewalk to the shadow of an office tower. She lifted her wrist to look quickly at a delicate gold watch and said, ‘Now Mr. Perkins, will you please cover your ears a moment…’
I scarcely had time to unquestioningly follow her instruction when suddenly the street seemed to fill with a rapid rush of sound and movement. I looked and saw something which I would never hope to see again.
In a fraction of a second, the SUV rode up over the curb and collided with the outstretched arms of the man in front of it. The arms were immediately dislocated backwards through his shoulders. Continuing it’s movement, the large vehicle caught the legs of the man and they seemed to fold up and be consumed by it. Caught partially under the SUV the man’s body seemed to dance and wave about like a rag doll until suddenly pinned and crushed horribly against a lamp post. The young man in the jeans came tumbling across the sidewalk scraped but otherwise unharmed. Pandemonium erupted among the onlookers. A woman screamed and the pages of the newspaper fluttered softly down to the ground.
‘…Mr. Perkins? Mr. Perkins? I’m sorry you had to see that but we really must move along.’
‘But…’, I returned to my standard response.
‘Indeed, Mr. Perkins, you are a man of few words. I always find it best to wrap these things up as quickly as possible. Now, I you would be so kind…’
Here she hefted the briefcase and with an efficient ‘click’, popped it open to remove a small sheaf of papers, re-closing it and placing it on the ground.
‘Now these are the standard forms, Mr. Perkins; the ‘declaration of free will’, as well as the ‘Immediate Reincarnation’ contract…’
‘but…,’ I repeated again beginning to realise how foolish I sounded, but then I had just been killed. One can be permitted to sound a little foolish under those circumstances.
She produced a slim gold pen from the inside of her jacket.
‘Mr. Perkins,’ she chided, ‘you know the contents of these forms very well. You have signed then in front of me 16 times before, ever since you became my client. So, you’re signature here, please make it legible, and here, initial here and here and again here. Just one more, Mr. Perkins, your signature, and initials please. Excellent.
She took the forms from my hand and deftly stowed them in the slim briefcase and slipped the pen back into her jacket.
‘Mr. Perkins, I believe we have done the necessary paperwork. I trust that I won’t be seeing you so tragically early next time, don’t you agree that would be better?’
I nodded my head, staring around me at the mayhem in the street but at the same time barely conscious that it had anything to do with me. The young woman in the tailored business suit extended her hand and I took it.
I immediately found myself floating, feeling coddled and secure in warm blackness. I tried to look around but quickly realised it was quite useless. Somewhere, very, very far away it seemed, I could distinguish the tender sound of a young couple softly making love.