His laughter burst out and it cut off as he coughed up a handful of water and phlegm, spitting it dramatically onto the placid surface of the water. The water level had ceased rising and he groaned inwardly, not wanting to elicit another coughing bout. At least he knew what to expect this time, the slowing decreasing water then the whirlpool washing machine of mass destruction. Fuckwit. Against his will he laughed and coughed again, satisfied however that this effort was much drier. He stood and tested his weight on the root and stretched to reach the overhanging trunk, his fingernails grazing across the bark surface as the pain of his actions forced him to sit again, so quickly he almost overbalanced but with water almost lapping the bottom of the root, he wouldn’t have fallen far. He sat again and dangled his legs in the water, the soothing salt content attacking every scratch, cut and abrasion with an intoxicating relief bordering on painful. The stinging across his whole body told him he was carrying abrasions everywhere.

“You better believe it,” I exclaimed, “maybe not on the first day, but the second definitely, I was in love with the girl,” I got embarrassed at this admission and dropped my head a little, I never been in love before you know. I took a few deep breaths before carrying on, “the first day was pleasant, all the girls were nice, very courteous and helped out as much as they could, but Laura, she stood out you know, she was a like a light in a dark place, always there to ask if she could do anything to help, asking if I wanted a Coke or a Pepsi, and you know, manners! Who has manners anymore? All these girls did, always sayin’ please and thank you and you’re welcome, and you shoulda seen the lunch they brought with ‘em that first day. They musta raided a seafood store because they had it all, lobster, shrimps, mussels, and even some imported pink salmon, and some bread like a stick that they called a baggit.”

She stopped a yard from my bed, startled, probably coz I was just starin’ at her. Musta looked like a right idjut meself just then, eyes open wide and my jaw open like some cartoon character. She musta seen it a time or two before, coz she composed herself quickly and went professionally about her business. She asked the same questions as the little tank did, then identified herself to me, which again turned out to be the only thing I really recall from that second morning. Doctor Elizabeth Tanning. My Beth. My Angel.

In sixteen different great halls, almost two million staff and crew were the first awakened, their intensive training automatically sending them to assigned stations. Hosts moved amongst the lower level of caskets as the lucky paying clients slowly roused. Families, couples, individuals were assisted from their caskets and escorted to preparatory cabins for ablutions and refreshment. As the lower levels of caskets were vacated, they slid seamlessly into the walls of the great halls, and the next level of caskets lowered automatically to floor level. Every customer was bursting with excitement – they would be the first to see where it all began.

Horace’s wife had answered the door, and having met Jane on numerous previous occasions, ushered her inside. Mrs Horace, Angelina actually, was a really nice lady and she and Jane had struck up a polite relationship over the years. Jane was surprised to see that Angelina was crying when she answered the door. She was dressed in night attire with a lovely, flowing, full length silk robe over the top. She strode into the living room with the flourish of an Academy award winning actress, or a model, which was of course what she used to be and still carried herself as such.