Too Broke For Afterlife

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After some scrubbing and rubbing my plan is finalized and I wash the last remains of the off-brand Head & Boulders shampoo out of my hair.

I will fake an allergy and force either of them to drive me to the next pharmacy. There I will either escape from the car (another trick I've learned from my detective shows) or, if I get to go inside, inform the pharmacist of my situation.

Because, believe it or not, my Spanish is actually quite good. I loved my Spanish classes in highschool and kept freshing up my knowledge over the years since is such an international language. 

The business woman who only speaks English is not the one who will close the big deals. That's for sure.

"Did she wake up?"

A new, loud voice echoes through the small building and I almost lose balance in the wet shower.

Quickly, I turn off the water and grab a towel to dry myself off.

"Is she in there?"

Steps are coming closer and then somebody knocks on the door.

"Hello?"

Where are my clothes?

"One minute!"

In light speed I put on my underwear and then the clothes Walter had given me. A pair of sweatpants and a tshirt. I'm not sure who they belong to. 

Natasha doesn't seem like the type of person to wear such clothing and ectomorph Walter is not someone who would fit into a men's size L. 

Another knock.

"I said, one minute!"

How rude. Bathroom time is sacred to me and I really do not appreciate the rushing.

A comb is lying next to the sink and although the thought of sharing dandruff with a stranger almost makes me gag, I realize that I have no other option and start going through my tangled hair.

If I get to take a short walk outside, the South American heat should dry it naturally.

Once my hair is combed neatly, I turn to the door and try to open it.

But I can't. Somebody is pushing it in the opposite direction.

"Could you please let me out?"

"Not without the code."

"What code?" God, how childish can someone be? I push again but the other person is clearly stronger.

"Make a pun with the word 'seal'."

I furrow my eyebrows. A pun?

"Stop acting like an idiot," I can hear Natasha grunt but the guy seems to ignore her.

"I'm waiting."

Fine. I roll my eyes and sigh.

"Are you sealious?"

Silence. Then the door swings open and I almost fall out of the room.

I stumble but somebody grabs my arm. Tightly.

"Ouch!"

I fight myself free and angrily inspect the person.

A tall, slightly chubby man is looking down at me. He is wearing clothing similar to mine so I can assume that I was given his shirt and sweatpants.

But what really grabs my attention are his eyes.

I don't think I've ever seen a pair of eyes this scary before. They are cold and sharp, almost acidy.

My expression drops and I instinctively take a step back. 

The man sizes me up and then extends his hand.

"Clemens."

I carefully accept the handshake. "Isabella."

"Isabella, I am glad to see you here."

One second. That voice. I think I've heard it before.

I try to remember as Clemens continues.

"We have a lot ahead of us, I hope you are ready. Any weakness could mean failure. We need to-"

"Wait. Aren't you the Dutch guy from the hospital?"

He blinks. "Dutch?" Then his face hardens. "I'm German."

"Well, almost the same."

"Almost the same?" Clemens' voice gains volume.

"You are talking about two completely different countries! Have you never taken a single history class?"

"Chill." Natasha grabs his shoulder. "Keep your speech for another time. We've got more important things to do. Come on."

She holds open the door to the room I slept in and both Walter and Clemens make their way inside. 

Natasha looks at me. "You too. You can dry your hair later." 

I sigh, knowing that my hair will get wiry if I leave it wet for too long but knowing that nobody here will care, I just enter the room.

Now that the light is turned on, I get a clear view at the furniture and can guess that this probably used to be a break room once. Two sleeping bags are lying in one corner next to lockers and in the middle stands a round table with chairs. 

Natasha's accomplices are already sitting but there is a third person I haven't met yet.

It's a young man with light brown hair and a cold look on his face. But when he sees me, his grey eyes widen. 

He gets up from his chair and slowly walks over to me. 

I carefully take a step back. "Hi? Do we know each other?"

He huffs. "Know each other? You saved my life."

Immediately, I recognize the voice and my heart starts beating faster. I pull him into a hug.

"Oh my god, what are you doing here? Did they kidnap you as well?"

Parker accepts the friendly gesture and awkwardly pats my back. 

"No, I came with them voluntarily. They are-"

"Sit down, both of you. You're wasting time," Natasha chimes in.

I throw Parker a questioning look but he doesn't continue his sentence. So instead, we both take a seat.

Clemens throws a folder onto the middle of the table.

"I'll make it quick. We three," he points at himself, Natasha and Walter, "are ghosts. Our bodies are Afterlife robots. But we are not hunting KP. We've formed this group because Earth is in danger and has to be saved. We can't do so alone and need your help."

"Wait, are you serious?" I shake my head.

A group of rejects has to save Earth? What is this, another Morvel movie? 

I look over at Parker, he seems extremely sceptical. 

"I can't even cook pasta. Of what use could I be? Why us?"

Good questions. I mean, I've got quite a lot of talents but saving a whole planet sounds like something I'm not qualified for.

Clemens looks at Walter..

"Show them."

The black-haired man nods, grabs the folder and flicks through the pages. Once he has found what he was looking for, he pulls it out and lays it down in front of us.

"Do you recognize this?"

I look at the paper and know immediately what he is showing me. My heart starts beating faster and my eyes widen in fear.

Anything but this.

Parker seems less fazed by the horror. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

His voice is calm.. "You guys have got some explaining to do."