Afterlife: Light

“She’d still be alive if it weren’t for you.”
He stands straight up as soon as he hears the voice, smashing his head on the open door of the medicine cabinet in the process, and knocking it off its hinges. The door clatters to the tiled floor like thunder in the still room, as he quickly turns to look around.
He’s alone, but the voice had to have come from somewhere. Rubbing the top of his head where it came in contact with the door, he ambles over to the duct covering. Kneeling down and pressing his ear against it, he sees if he can hear anything else.
After that fails to provide results, he stands and goes to look out of the bathroom doorway, looking into the rest of the apartment. From here, he can see all the way across the apartment. The living-room is immediately adjacent, with a small, open kitchen to the left, and the two bedrooms on the far wall. Both doors are closed. He knew the front door was locked, but goes to check it anyways. It still is.
Returning to the bathroom, he checks the back of his head again. He’s going to have a pretty big bump by tomorrow.
“Fucking hallucinations...” He bends over to pick up the mirror, gripping both sides and holds it over the bare shelves it once hid. “Fucking cheap-ass hardware...”
As he turns to throw it, something catches his eye, and he stops. He holds it slightly closer as he notices something. That was when the image in the mirror suddenly starts to change. He watches his own face distort, the skin turning a cold blue, and peeling away from the flesh. His eye sockets become empty, black holes. When the skin pulls away from his teeth, he sees long, jagged daggers, stained blue-purple. The image seems to lunge at him, and he yells, dropping the mirror. It smashes on the ground, pieces skidding all across the floor.
Running backwards, he trips over the side of the tub, and falls in. Cowering in the far end of it, he stares at the back of the face down mirror.
“She’d still be alive, if people like you knew your place.” This time the voice comes from the doorway. Instinctively grasping the gold cross that hung from his neck, he looks towards the source of the voice. The man is handsome, tall, blonde, blue eyes, though a bit on the pale side. He wears a long white robe that drags across the ground. It has slight embroidery around the neck and wrists, with a rope that holds it together in the front. A faint blue aura surrounds him. But the shadow cast on the bathroom floor is all wrong.
“Who are you?!” he shouts, clutching the cross.
The man pulls out a small notebook, opening it directly to the page he wanted before he looks back. “You wouldn’t happen to be Lance Corporal Dantie Vance, would you?”
Dantie doesn’t respond to that, he only stares. Glancing around, he sees the shards of glass that litter the ground. Some large enough to be used as weapons.
“Served four years in Iraq, before being honorably discharged for a pair of gunshot wounds?” the man waits for a response, before continuing, reading from his notebook. “Married to Cheryl Vance, with one daughter, Emily-”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Dantie interrupts him, standing to his full height of six-foot-two. The man only tilts his head to the right.
“I don’t know Dantie, who do you think I am?”
Dantie steps forward, making it out of the tub as he lunges at the man, before he suddenly crashes to the ground, both hands on his head. The room spins, becoming blurred and then over-defined, back and forth. The floor moves beneath him, and a million voices fill his head. Among them he could tell Cheryl’s, and Emily’s. Old war buddies, the long dead beside the living. They all tell him the same thing: it was his fault.
He suddenly becomes aware of the man squatting beside him. The man puts a hand Dantie’s head gently and the voices suddenly stop. He remains still.
“They all know Dantie, why can’t you accept it?” still he doesn’t respond, and the man continues. “She came home from dinner with her friends. Emily was already asleep. It was eleven thirty at night...” he becomes less and less conscious of his surroundings, his vision blurring.


The scene presents itself in front of his eyes. He’s no longer conscious of the floor, only the confining restraints of the wheel chair. The room is dark, except for a small lamp at the other end, and the light from the TV. The air smells vaguely of gin. Anger becomes the prominent emotion, as he watches her shut the door behind her.
“It’s eleven thirty, Cheryl, where the hell have you been?” Dantie turns his wheelchair fully around, muting the TV. She freezes up instantly, slowly turning to look at him, then at the ground. Cheryl had always been a bad liar.
“You know where I was, at dinner with some friends.” she starts to hang her coat on the rack, with her hat on top of that. Dantie moves a little closer.
“You were gone four hours, don’t bullshit me. Where were you?”
She turns back to face him.
“Does it matter? I’m allowed to have a social life-”
Dantie cuts her off. “You were with another man, weren’t you? One that can actually walk, right?”
“Stop- just stop. I hate this, Dantie! I hate what you’ve become. I can’t go anywhere anymore, I can’t do anything without your permission, You’ve become so damn controlling. Everyday you take everything out on me. It’s not my fault you were shot, and it’s not Emily’s either!” she tries to stand her ground and be angry, but the tears are streaming down her cheeks.
“Don’t you dare bring her into this!” Dantie yells back. There was a small moment of silence, before Cheryl starts to say something else. Suddenly, she stops, and stares past him in horror. Dantie turns to look behind him, and sees Emily standing at the end of the hallway.
She stares with wide eyes, her thumb stuck in her mouth, as her parents argue. She always had the most innocent brown eyes dantie had ever seen. Just like her mother.
“Emil-” Dantie starts, but Cheryl had already rushed across the room and picked her up, whispering to her softly about how sorry she was. He could only stare, numb.
Eventually, she turns around and looks at dantie, seeming like her mind is more made up now.
“I’m taking Emily with me to my parents house in Baltimore. You have the number when your ready to get some help.” she starts to say in a calm voice. Something told Dantie to be rational, that she’s right, and he’s wrong. But something else shouts at the top of it’s lungs that she’s wrong, that there’s nothing wrong with him, just something wrong with her. Furry boils over in his chest.
“The Hell you are. She’s my daughter too, and I say she’s staying here.”
Cheryl stops, staring at him as if she didn’t understand what he was saying. “Dantie, listen to yourself-” he interrupts her, not being in any mood for it.
“No, you listen. You have no right to take her. If you want to go, then get the hell out, but she stays.”
Cheryl takes a small step back, renewed tears now running down her cheeks.
“Who... Are you..?” Just then, Emily began to cry. Her mother looks at her, then at dantie. The sound of Emily’s sobs made something click, and dantie was no longer looking at the scene through a red veil. He looks at Emily, then Cheryl, seeing the tears.
“Cheryl, I’m sorry-” But she only shakes her head slowly, taking a step back. Suddenly, she turns and bolts for the front door, flinging it open and running outside into the snow. It takes Dantie a moment to process, before he follows. “Cheryl- Wait!-”
She’s already in the car, quickly buckling Emily in and looking back before Dantie makes it onto the porch. She turns back and tries to start the car. It won’t turn over at first. Emily’s still crying in the back seat, as Cheryl swears and hits the dash, trying desperately to get the car started. He rolls up to the car door, and she jumps when he puts his hands on the glass. They stare at each other for a moment.
“Cheryl- please- I’m sorry-” Just then, the car turns over and roars to life. She slams it into reverse, and hits the gas, backing out of the driveway. Dantie’s feet come inches away from being crushed.
He watches as she drives out of the driveway and pulls into the street. Dropping his head and putting his hand over his face, he thinks to himself. You’ve royally screwed up this time. Or was it someone else’s voice?
Just then something cuts into his thoughts, and abruptly ends that train of thought. He looks up, just in time to see Cheryl’s car flip, and roll a few times, before skidding to a stop. The car lies on its roof some hundred feet away. The right side of her car is entirely smashed in, and smoke pours from the front end. Near the end of the driveway a man stumbles out of his truck. His front end is crushed; smoke pouring from that as well.
Not seeing dantie, he rushes over to the car with a faint limp, yelling to see if anyone was alright. All dantie could do was stare, as the minutes slowly tick by, waiting for the emergency crews to show up. He didn’t even bother to ask the man if they were alright. Something inside of him tells him that they are already dead, and there was nothing he could do.


“When the paramedics showed up, they pronounced both Cheryl and Emily dead on the scene. They had been dead before the car rolled, after the main collision. The man was found to be intoxicated, and was to be charged with two counts of vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty, and you did not have to testify.
“You turned to the church after that. You repented, and became an active member. But that still didn’t help.” the robed man stands up slowly, taking his hand from Dantie’s head. Dantie slowly regains his senses, feeling being first, sight being the last. Putting both hands down, he pushes himself up to his hands and knees, looking down at the shards of the mirror all over the floor.
“It was your fault Dantie. She left because you made her. If you didn’t start a fight, she’d still be here. And the both of you would be eating dinner while Emily told you about her day at kindergarten-”
“Stop it!” Dantie sits back on his knees, looking over at the man. He drops his head when he speaks again, “Just... Just tell me what you want...”
The man kneels down to his level, and dantie looks up, making eye contact.
“You’ve repented, and He has forgiven you. But you’re still not off the hook. One day, you will be needed, and one of Us will contact you. Until then, keep alert.” he holds eye contact for a moment more, before standing and turning towards the door. Then he leaves the room, leaving dantie sitting in the middle of the mess of glass.
He sits there for a good hour or two, before he slowly stands, still clutching the cross. Making his way to the living room, his feet get cut up, but he doesn’t notice. Dantie lies down on the couch and closes his eyes, falling asleep quickly. He doesn’t dream that night.
Waking up in a few hours, it’s still dark outside, but the stove says its 5:55. Sitting up, Dantie rubs the top of his head, not finding the bump that had been there the night before.
“God damn hallucinations…” he says to himself, half-halfheartedly. Dantie knew what happened, but a lot of it was fuzzy. Remembering wasn’t his highest priority at the moment. Walking to the bathroom, he barely sees the glass mess, a glint catching his eye just before he steppes into it. Even though he hadn’t stepped in it, his feet were already cut up.
“Weird...” he mutters to himself, then goes into the kitchen. He washes his face in the sink, and looks up, expecting a mirror.
“not in the bathroom...” Sighing, he goes over and opens the door to his bedroom, avoiding the bathroom. It’s small, only enough space for his bed and a small desk, but then again, he’s never in there.
Walking over to his closet, he pulls it open. Clothes are neatly hung up on racks, organized based on usage; dressy separate from casual. Old military ticks die hard. He spreads them aside to look better, and something catches his eyes. Taking it out, he spreads the dry-cleaning bag on the bed, and looks at it for awhile. Slowly, he unzips it, and looks at the Uniform inside. It had been nearly three years since he had worn it, accepting his purple heart. Two weeks after Cheryl and Emily had been killed in the car accident.
He shakes his head, and goes to zip it back up. But something stops him, and he feels himself pulling it out of the bag. The medals are still attached. It still feels as clean as it did when he put it in the back of his closet.
“Put it on.” The voice comes from across the bed. He looks up quickly, taking a small step back. The same man from the night before stands there, his arms folded behind his back. Dantie starts to talk, but he cuts him off. “Just do it, you have a big day ahead of you. Want to look your best, right?” with that, the man would disappear, and Dantie just stands there, blinking.
After a few minutes, he slowly looks back at his uniform, pulling it from it’s bag. Putting it on, he goes into the closet to find his shoes, and cap. Once it’s on, he walks over to the mirror, looking. It somehow feels right, wearing it again.
He turns slightly and looks at the back of his knee; and the small patch is still there. Along with the one in the middle of his back. He had insisted on getting it repaired, instead of replaced. The only tell-tale signs of it’s repair was the slight difference in shade.
Turning back around, he puts his cap on, looking himself over. To this point, he hadn’t questioned the man, or his instructions. Taking the cross from under his shirt, he touches it to his forehead, then crosses himself, before exiting the room, locking it.
In the kitchen, he ducks down under the sink and opens the cabinet. Inside, a small gun-safe is stuck between the pipes. He enters the combination; Cheryl’s birthday. It pops open, and he removes the silver-finished handgun. A .45 caliber Smith and Wesson 1911 handgun. Checking the slide, he takes one of the clips out, and loads it, before standing and putting the gun in it’s holster on his shoulder. He shuts the safe with his foot and closes the cabinet. The man watches from the livingroom.
“Get your coat. We have a few things to take care of.” he walks towards the door, and then through it. Dantie nods, and grabs his long coat from the hook, throwing it over his shoulders. Then he opens the door and steps into the hallway, locking the door behind him.
As he turns and starts to walk towards the stairs, he hears a small crash from the other end of the hallway, and someone else cursing.
“Son-ofa...” Katrina puts her hand to her head and closes her eyes. The contents of her grocery bag lay all over the ground, some of the cans rolling away. Dantie stops one with his foot, and bends over to pick it up, holding out with a faint smile.
“Need some help?”
She looks up, and slowly reaches out to take it, returning the smile. “Thanks...” he kneels down and starts to gather everything. She hesitates and starts to help a moment later. Then they stand and she opens the door to her apartment, walking in and setting everything on the counter. He follows and does the same.
“Thanks for the help...” she brushes her hair out of her eyes, and smiles faintly, he returns it, and then turns for the door.
“Not a problem. Take care.” he waves slightly, walking out the door. She bites her lower lip and hesitates, before following him to the doorway.
“Hey- wait.” she watches as he turns back slightly. “We’ve been living next door to each other for almost a year now. I think it’s time you came over for dinner some night, what about you?” she smiles nervously. He turns back.
“Sounds good, is today alright with you?”
She nods, “How’s seven?”
“Great. I’ll see you then.” he turns back towards the stairs, starting to walk down them. “Take care.”
“Bye...” she closes the door, and smiles to herself. Then she turns and heads back to the kitchen, getting started on dinner.

The man was waiting outside. When Dantie finally exits the apartment complex, he looks at his wrist, then at Dantie.
“That was nice, but now we’re running late.” he stands straight off the lamp-post. Dantie pretends not to see him, turning right and continuing down the sidewalk. The man is suddenly walking beside him. “Pick up the pace.”
Dantie would, still looking straight ahead.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Take a right up here.” the man continues walking. Someone was walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, and it looks like he’s going to walk right into the man. He passes right through him. Dantie shakes his head, and looks straight.
“Hallucinations...”

After about fourteen more blocks, the man stops him, and stares ahead for a moment, before he looks at dantie.
“They’re up there.” the man points to a third-story window. Dantie sees two figures standing in the window, one slightly taller than the other. That’s all he can make out from here. He looks back where the man was, and now he’s gone. Dantie sighs, and looks down an alley. He turns and starts walking down the alley, whistling faintly, and putting his hands in his pockets.
The building was about six stories tall, but apparently his target was on the third floor. Even though he still didn’t know what he was doing.
Looking around, he notices there isn’t a back door to the building. Going through the front would be too obvious.
“Hey, up here.” dantie looks up, and the man is sitting on the fire escape. He kicks the ladder, and it falls to the ground. Then dantie blinks, and he’s gone. Muttering under his breath, he walks over, and climbs up, making his way to the third floor. The man was waiting at the top. “Quiet.” then he turns, and walks through the window, disappearing on the other side. Dantie considers just going back home, but then sighs, and slowly opens the window, stepping in.
Inside he can hear voices. Three of them, but he can tell immediately that one of them is female’s. The room he was in was dark, except for some light bleeding in from the hallway. Stepping into the doorway, he looks around the corner.
The hallway ends with a rather large room, the light source a ceiling-mounted fan. It was carpeted, just like the hallway. On the other-side of it, three kids were standing in front of a picture-frame window. Two of them gave dantie the wrong feeling, like they just didn’t fit. The third was standing with his back to the window. They were too far away for him to overhear their conversation.
“The one in the middle. He’s your target.” the man looks at him from across the hall, standing in another doorway. He looks over at him, then peeks down the hall. Dantie goes to tell him to be quiet, but remembers that they probably can’t hear him.
“Why him? He can’t be any older than 17.” the girl looks in their direction, and dantie ducks back into the room.
“Just do it, Dantie.” the man stands straight, and crosses his arms. He tries to resist, but he feels himself reaching for his gun.
“Hallucinations...” he shakes his head, and frees the weapon from it’s holster. Pulling the slide back, he lets it back into place carefully, trying to avoid making noise as much as possible. Peeking around the corner, he sees that there’s only two of them there now. The girl is nowhere to be seen.
“Take the shot already. I don’t have all day.” Now the man is standing directly behind him, shifting his weight every few seconds.
“Why are you so tense...” Dantie takes aim carefully around the corner, aiming directly at the boy closest to the window.
The boy closer to him suddenly puts his arm around the other one’s shoulders, dragging him to the ground. Dantie tries to take the shot, but something smashes into his right hand, forcing it up. The bullet sails through the window, and the gun hits the ground a few feet down the hallway. Before dantie can recoil, something else hits him hard in the face, knocking him back. He falls with his hands covering his face. His nose is broken, blood gushing out.
Then he hears a faint metallic click, and he moves his hands to see. Blood blurs his vision, but he can see clear enough that the girl is standing in front of him, pointing the gun at his face. She’s beautiful, that much he could tell. She isn’t tall, but isn’t exactly short either. Darker skined, with a clear complexion. She looked to be in her early twenties. Black hair cascades down to just past her shoulders. There’s something about her eyes that are unnatural. The irises are black, flat black; they hold no shine to them whatsoever. Dantie slowly put his hands up.
“Who sent you?” she takes a step closer and kneels, the muzzle nearly touching his nose. It smells strongly of sulfur. He glances around frantically, trying to find the man. He isn’t there. All of a sudden dantie’s thoughts start to race. What am I doing here? Who are these people? Why did I listen to him?
“Well?” she eggs him on, pressing it to his forehead. He starts to stammer.
“I-I don’t know. He lead me here, and told me my target was on the third floor.”
“The target was Adam, right?”
Dantie nods faintly, the name sounding familiar all of a sudden. He doesn’t remember the man ever telling him a name.
“He wore a Long white robe, blond and blue eyed?” one of the boys stands in the doorway, crossing his arms. He was taller, Darker skinned than the girl. His eyes are a deep red color, like the blood from a bleeding wound. Black hair, kept short and trim covers his head. Behind him the other boy stood, staring at dantie with Gold-tinged hazel colored eyes. The target, Adam. Dantie stares back, until she brings him back into the moment by tapping his forehead with the gun. Dantie looks back, and nods faintly. She stands, still aiming the gun at his head.
“Get him out of here.” she glances back at the boy standing in the doorway, then back at dantie. He nods, and turns, whispering something to the one dubbed Adam. Adam nods, tearing his gaze away from dantie. Then walks down the hall, out of sight. The boy follows. Dantie hears them going down the stairs, but the girl is still stand there.
He looks back at her. She seems set to pull the trigger, but suddenly she seems to change her mind. She smiles, and kneels down closer, lowering the gun to rest on his neck.
“Under different circumstances, I might have considered you Cute.” Moving to sit on his stomach and straddle him, she leans down and kisses him. He starts to resist, but the cold metal pressed to his neck reminds him he doesn’t have a lot of leeway. The gun moves to press up on his chin, and she pulls away slowly, grinning. “Maybe I’ll see you the next time I go back.”
Dantie suddenly puts his right hand up to cover her eyes, using the other to pull the gun’s muzzle away from his throat. She pulls the trigger, but the muzzle clears his throat, and he feels the bullet go right past his face. The heat burns the left side of his face, but it doesn’t bother him much at the moment. When the gun goes off, the sound deafens him momentarily, and then all he can hear is ringing.
Acting quickly, he takes a firm hold of the gun and keeps it aimed away from him. Then he rolls over so he’s on top, to get better leverage, trying to wrench the gun from her grasp. Tilting her head back she uncovers her eyes, biting into his hand to get it away from her face. Yelling out, he finds the release on the gun and hits it, the clip sliding out. He kicks it away, then scrambles to his feet, running at the window he came in through. She stands behind him and takes aim, firing.
The bullet grazes his right shoulder, taking out a rather large hunk of flesh, then continuing through the window in front of him, smashing it. Grabbing it with his left hand, he vaults over the windowsill, and onto the fire escape.
Behind him, she tries to shoot again, but when it doesn’t fire, she notices the clip isn’t in the gun anymore. Standing straight, she lets her arms drop to her sides, smirking faintly.
“You can’t run forever, soldier boy.” she turns, and bends over to pick up the clip, sliding it back into the gun. Taking one last glance back at the window, she turns, and walks out the door.
Dantie rushes down the fire-escape, missing the last three steps on the ladder and falling hard on his back. He scrambles to his feet and continues running.
He runs the entire fourteen blocks back to his apartment building. People just stopped and stared at him, some pointing and yelling. No doubt numerous nine-one-one calls ensued. But dantie didn’t appear to notice anything, his thoughts preoccupied by what just happened. His nose was defiantly broke, a few of his fingers as well.
The left side of his face was throbbing, more than likely red and slightly swollen. The ringing had quieted slightly in his right ear, but it was still very loud in his left. Even his shoulder ached painfully, blood soaking through to his coat by now.
When he got back to the building, he hurried to his apartment, not stopping to answer his landlords questions.
Slamming his apartment door, he stands there for a moment, before slowly sliding down to sit against it, still trying to make sence of everything. After an hour or two, he takes his coat off, and drapes it over the coat rack. He lost his hat in the struggle. Walking over to the sink, he turns the water on and fills his hands with it, splashing it over his face to try to sooth the burning. After he does that a few times, he shuts it off, and stands there for awhile.
He slowly turns around and leans back against the counter, looking at the ground.
“You’ve failed to accomplish the task you’ve been assigned.” the man is suddenly standing across from him in the small kitchen, his arms crossed. Dantie quickly looks up, and goes to put his hands up, but stops.
“What the hell is going on? Who were they, and why do you want that boy dead?”
The man blinks, surprised. “What do you mean why? You don’t question me, you just do as your told.”
Dantie stands straight. “I’m not doing shit for you. I don’t know what the hell you did to me, but it’s not working now.” he turns, and starts to walk towards his room. There was a mirror in there, maybe he could get a better look at his shoulder. The man turns to watch, amazed.
“How dare you defy me! Don’t you have any idea what you’re dealing with?” dantie turns to try to wave him off, but the man’s standing right there, not six inches away from his face. He goes to take a step back, but finds that he can’t.
“I’m not just a hallucination, dantie, I’m a messenger of God. You know what that makes me. You will do what I say, because they are His wishes.” the man looks into his eyes, and dantie feels a sharp stinging sensation all over his body. Hallucinations, PTSD kicking in... he tries to convince himself.
"Drop... Dead...” Dantie forces himself to say through gritted teeth. The man growls, and he’s suddenly gone. Dantie starts to relax, but not before the stinging refocuses itself on his head. he puts his hands to his head and doubles over. The pain intensifies nearly tenfold rapidly, and his head feels like it might implode on itself any minute. He screams out loudly, dropping to his knees.
The room spins rapidly, the floor moving beneath him, feeling like it throws him six feet in the air, before he lands hard on the ground. His vision blurs, before it dissipates completely. His hearing, or what’s left of it, fades away. His breathing slows, and he just stops doing it after awhile. The world feels numb, as he loses consciousness, and his body slumps to the ground, lifeless.

There’s a knock at the front door. Quiet, but definitely audible in the still room.
“Dantie? Are you alright?” the doorhandle jiggles slightly, but doesn’t open due to the lock.”Hey, open the door. Dantie?”
He lays in the middle of his livingroom, the furniture pushed away in a rough semi-circle away from him. His breathing is shallow, but his eyes are open, darting back and forth quickly. After a few minutes, he slowly puts his hands down, and pushes himself up to his hands and knees, looking at the ground.
The knocks become more urgent after a few moments, and he sits back on his knees, eyes closed. Looking over at the door, he opens his eyes.
“Howel-d... on...” His speech slurring slightly. He puts his hand to his jaw for a moment, then looks back at the door, carefully getting up to his feet. He walks over, and opens the door, looking to see who it is.
Outside, he sees Katrina standing there, wearing a rather elegant dress. She also wears her brown hair up in a complicated bun, and light make-up on her slightly tanned skin. Black eye-liner frame her blue eyes. She looks up at him, seeming slightly worried.
“Dantie, are you alright? You’re forty-five minutes late, and then I heard you yell, and-” she stops for a moment, staring at his eyes, “What happened to your eyes? They weren’t blue before you left.”
Dantie smiles “Never mind the eyes. I’m sorry, but something came up. I need to leave, so we’ll have to reschedule.” She looks at him, slightly disappointed, then looks at the ground.
“Alright...” He puts a hand gently under her chin so she looks up at him.
“It’ll be alright. You should get back, before something ignites.” he smiles faintly, and she slowly returns it. Somehow she knew he was right.
He drops his hand and she steps out of his way. Stepping out into the hallway, He puts his hand up and brushes off his shoulder. Where there should have been a blood spot, there was only dark blue fabric. He cracks his fingers, straightening them out, then turns back to her.
“I’ll see you soon, alright?” He locks the door, and turns back to her. She nods, putting her hands in front of her, holding them one over the other. Putting his hands in his pockets, he turns back towards the stairs. She watches, so transfixed she doesn’t notice that his shadow doesn’t match his figure. Neither does she realize that they never made any plans to reschedule.
As he walks away, he starts to whistle the tune to hallelujah.