I am dead, Liz thinks. And then she says it aloud to hear how it sounds: "I am dead. Dead."
It is a strange thing being dead, because her body doesn't feel dead at all. Her body feels the same as it always has.
As Liz walks down the long row of binoculars, she spots Curtis Jest. Using only one eye, he is looking in his binoculars with decidedly tepid interest. His other eye spots Liz immediately.
"Hello, Lizzie. How's the afterlife treating you?" Curtis asks.
Liz tries to shrug nonchalantly. Although she does not know exactly what "the afterlife" entails, she is fairly certain of one thing: she will never see her parents, her brother, or her friends again.
In a way, it feels more like she is still alive and the only guest at the collective funeral for everyone she has ever known. She chooses to respond with "It's boring," even though that answer doesn't come close to expressing what she feels.
"And the funeral, how was that?" asks Curtis.
"It was mainly an occasion for my high school principal to discuss traffic safety."
"Traffic safety, eh? Sounds divine." Curtis cocks his head, slightly puzzled.
"And they said I was a 'straight-A student,' " Liz adds, "which I'm not."
"Don't you watch the news? All young people become perfect students when they kick the bucket.
It's a rule."
Liz wonders if her death made the local news. Does anyone care if a fifteen-year-old girl gets hit by a car?
"The Great Jimi Hendrix said, 'Everyone loves you when you're dead: once you're dead, you're made for life.' Or something like that. But he's probably before your time."
"I know who he is," Liz says. "The guitar player."
"I beg your pardon, madam." Curtis mimes tipping his hat. "Care to have a look at my funeral, then?" Curtis asks.
Liz isn't sure she is up to looking at anyone else's funeral, but she doesn't want to seem impolite.
She looks through Curtis's binoculars. Curtis's funeral is far more elaborate than Liz's: the other members of Machine are there; a famous singer sings his most famous song with lyrics especially rewritten for the occasion; a celebrated underwear model sobs in the front row; and, bizarrely, a juggling bear stands on Curtis's coffin.
"What's with the bear?" Liz asks.
"The bear was supposed to be in our next video. His name is Bartholomew, and I was told he is the best bear in the business. One of the guys in the band probably thought I would like it."
Liz steps away from the binoculars. "How did you die, Curtis?"
"Apparent drug overdose, I suppose."
"Apparent?" Liz asks.
"No doubt, that's what they said on the news: 'Curtis Jest, lead singer of the band Machine, died of an apparent drug overdose early Sunday morning at his residence in Los Angeles. He was thirty years old.' It's a great tragedy, you see." Curtis laughs. "And you, Lizzie? Do you know now?"
"Bicycle accident."
"Ah, that explains the traffic-safety-themed funeral."
"I guess. My mom was always trying to get me to wear a helmet," says Liz.
"Mums always know best."
Liz smiles. A moment later, she is surprised to find tears falling from her eyes. She quickly brushes them away with her hand, but they are soon replaced with fresh stock.
"Here," says Curtis, holding out his pajama sleeve for Liz to wipe her eyes on.
Liz accepts the sleeve. She notices that Curtis's scarred arm is healing. "Thank you," she says.
"Your arm looks better, by the way."
Curtis pulls down his pajama sleeve. "My youngest sister is your age," Curtis says. "Looks a bit like you, too."
"We're dead, you know? We're all dead. And we're never going to see any of them ever again,"
Liz cries.
"Who knows, Lizzie? Perhaps we will."
"Easy for you to say. You chose this." As soon as the words escape her mouth, Liz regrets them.
Curtis waits a moment before he responds. "I was a drug addict. I didn't want to die."
"I'm sorry."
Curtis nods without really looking at Liz.
"I'm really sorry," she says. "It was a stupid thing for me to say. I only thought it, because a lot of your songs are kind of, well, dark. But I still shouldn't assume things."
"Apology accepted. It's a good thing to know how to apologize properly. Very few people know how to do it." Curtis smiles, and Liz returns his smile. "And the truth is, some days I did want to die, maybe a little. But not most days."
Liz thinks about asking him if he still wants drugs now that he's dead, but she decides the question isn't appropriate. "People will be really sad you're gone," Liz says.
"Will they?"
"Well," she says, "I'm sad you're gone."
"But I'm where you are. So to you, I'm not gone, am I?"
"No, I guess not." Liz laughs. It feels strange to laugh. How can anything be funny now?
"Do you think we'll be on this boat forever? I mean, is this all there is?" Liz asks.
"I suspect not, Lizzie."
"But how do you know?"
"Perhaps my mind's playing tricks on me," says Curtis, "but I think I can see the shore, love."
Liz stands to see over the binoculars. In the distance, she can see what appears to be land. The sight momentarily comforts her. If you have to be dead, it is better to be somewhere, anywhere, than nowhere at all.
Part II: The Book of the Dead
Welcome to Elsewhere
We're here!" Thandi is looking out the upper porthole when Liz enters the cabin. She jumps down from the top bunk and throws her solid arms around Liz, spinning her about the cabin until both girls are out of breath.
Liz sits down and gasps for air. "How can you be so happy when we're . . . ?" Her voice trails off.
"Dead?" Thandi smiles a little. "So you finally figured it out."
"I just got back from my funeral, but I think I sort of knew before."
Thandi nods solemnly. "It takes as long as it takes," she says. "My funeral was awful, thanks for asking. They had me made up like a clown. I can't even talk about what they did to my hair."
Thandi lifts up her braids. In the mirror, she examines the hole in the back of her head. "It's definitely getting smaller," she decides before lowering her braids.
"Aren't you at all sad?" Liz asks.
"No point in being sad that I can see. I can't change anything. And I'm tired of being in this little room, Liz, no offense."
An announcement comes over the ship's PA system: "This is your captain speaking. I hope you've enjoyed your passage. On behalf of the crew of the SS Nile, welcome to Elsewhere. The local temperature is 67 degrees with partly sunny skies and a westerly breeze. The local time is 3:48 p.m. All passagers must now disembark. This is the last and only stop."
"Don't you wonder what it's like out there?" Liz asks.
"The captain just said. It's warm with a breeze."
"No, not the weather. I meant, everything else."