52stories

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“Where are they going?” I ask the man next to me. He had won the chess game, but each piece he lost stood for a child that would die in my bus accident. He told me he had never lost a game, and watching his skill as he played, I knew he would do the best he could to save the children.

The other man, the Japanese guy who had been driving the car that caused the accident, didn’t know about the arrangement, so he just played his best to win.

As each piece was lost to the foreign driver, a child would walk into the area, and stand around the picnic table to watch the proceedings. They knew each other, had been on the bus together, and probably wondered what was going on. I wanted to tell them, but was forbidden by a kick under the picnic table from my champion.

When the game ended, as if on queue, all the children followed the Japanese man out of the area, through an opening in the bushes. I stand and start after them, not sure what is supposed to happen next.

I turn around to repeat my question, annoyed at the lack of response, but the chess player is gone. The picnic table is gone, and so is everything else that was here in the park. Where is everyone?

The bushes surround me on all sides, but I no longer see any openings. I can see the trees just behind the bushes, and what looks like a deep forest beyond that. No one else around. I don’t know where I am. What is going on? I was driving the bus, and then… oh my gosh, the accident. The children in the bus, the bus flipping over into the creek.

How many did I lose?

And the man that was here a minute ago. The one playing chess to determine which of the children would live. He said he always won, but he lost a half dozen pieces, and the children had just left. They went with the drunk driver - they said he was supposed to take care of them.

That’s what they said anyway. But everyone’s gone. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I’m in a coma in the hospital, and this is all a dream. That’s it. I must be hallucinating. This can’t be real.

Wait. I hear noises in the bushes. I think it’s from the direction the kids followed. Not a lot of noise, but getting closer. Maybe I should hide. But if I leave this thicket, this oasis in the forest, how will I find my way back? What difference does it make?! I don’t even know where I am!

The noise is louder. It sounds like a bunch of people walking in the underbrush. I don’t hear any words, but I can make out talking; mumbling, or maybe just too far away to understand. I can feel a cool breeze on my skin, moisture cooling me as the mild wind passes through. Goosebumps are forming on my arms, and I can feel the cool material of my pants pressing against my legs. It’s getting colder, but I don’t know how. The sun is still shining brightly above, and actually makes my hair feel really hot on my forehead.

The noise is getting closer. I move to the other end of the clearing, and crouch down near the bushes, ready to dive in, if I can, if I need to get away. I don’t have many options. This is not cool at all! Where did this stupid dream come from? Why can’t I wake up?

Suddenly, Tabitha jumps through an opening in the bushes, right where I would expect her to arrive given the noises that preceded her. “Hi, Mr. Mark!” she yells, skipping over to my side.

“Are you okay?” I ask, getting on my knees to look into her eyes. She had been on the bus with me.

“Oh, yes. Things are wonderful.”

“Where did the Japanese man go?”

“Mr. Hashawagi? Father said he did his penance, and he was taken somewhere else. They told us not to worry about him, and he’d get all the things he needed.”

“Mr. Hashawhat? He’s that man that was driving the car that hit us, right?”

“Yes, but that’s over now. Everyone is okay, see?” She points to the opening, where the four other children follow her into the clearing. Mica, Justin, Jesse, Carl. Oh, they look so sweet, so tiny. So vulnerable.

And they all look well. “What happened?” I ask. “I thought that guy was supposed to look after you because of, well, because of what he did.”

“He did it already. Father said time works differently here, so it was just a little time for us, but it was a really, really long time for him. He looked really scared when he left. They said they would take care of him, though. So we came back to see you.”

“I’m glad you did. I didn’t know what to do, and was getting kinda scared myself. Do you know where we are, or how to get out?”

“Yes, Mr. Mark,” says Mica in his tiny, 5 year old voice. “We’re in heaven.”

“Well, not really heaven, yet,” says Carl. “It’s more like the front door to heaven.”

I looked around. “Kids, I don’t see any doors here.”

“Of course not,” says Tabitha. “You have to follow the path to the stairs, and then climb up to the door.”

“I don’t even see a path, Tab,” I murmured. These were great kids, but how could they know what to do? None of us had been here before. I sat down, and leaned back against the tree.

Wait a minute! That tree wasn’t here a minute ago. What the…

“Mr. Mark, when you”re ready, we’ll take you to the stairs. Just rest for now,” said Mica gently. I think they’re worried for me, looks of concern covering their young faces. So intelligent now, they seem. So tiny, but so old. None of them is over 7 years old, but they speak and act like mature adults. Well, young adults.

I lean back against the tree, and soon realize I am waking up. I must have fallen asleep. The children are all around the clearing, sitting and talking with each other. There was one more child now - Ben. He was new on the bus, and today had been his first day. His last day.

Ben says, “Hi, Mr. Mark. I’m glad you’re awake. We’re ready to take you now.”

“Take me? Don’t you kids need to go too?”

“No, we’re all under 8, so Father said we won’t need to answer any questions to get in. You, however, have to meet some people before you can go in. Sorry.”

“I understand”. I guess I’m not in the hospital after all. “Let’s go see the wizard!”

“He’s not a wizard,” says Tabitha. “He’s our Father.”

“I know. I was just playing. Sorry, Tab.”

“That’s okay.”

“Where do we go now?” I still don’t see any way out, but as she points to the tree I had been leaning on, the growth behind it parts, and a narrow pathway, cut as straight as an arrow, is revealed. I stand up, and take a few steps toward the path, but the children quickly ran in front of me.

“We should go first,” says Jesse. “We know the way.”

They run down the path, and soon I can only hear them faintly above the sounds of the forest. I walk into the path, and try to keep up with the noise ahead.

The going is tough. For children, the path is probably well fit, but I’m big enough to snag branches and nettles every few seconds. My arms are bleeding before long, punctured over and over as I continue deeper into the forest. I keep thinking I should stop, but their sound was faint enough that I know I might lose them if I don’t keep up the pace. At last, after what seems like miles, the path opens, and I find myself on a beach. The kids are just a few dozen yards ahead, playing near the waves, but careful not to get wet.

I look further down the beach and see a great stairway rising to the top of the hill. Mica comes running up to me, and asks if I’m ready to go.

“Where?” I ask.

“That’s the stairway. Are you ready to go up?”

“That’s the stairway to heaven?”

“Yup.” He smiles a smile laced with ultimate depths of knowledge, and filled with sweetness beyond anything I’ve ever seen.

“And the door is at the top?”

“Yes, Mr. Mark. You have to answer some questions along the way, at each of the places you stop. But when you get to the top, we can all go in together.”

“Ok,” I say, thinking about the questions. “I guess now is as good a time as ever.”

We walk to the bottom of the steps, the children all behind me now, whispering wishes of luck and strength. I turn and give them all a hug, all at once, and then quickly start up the steps to the first landing.