Chapter 3: Dying for Nothing

The system picked our cause of death: "Car accident."

Leave it to a cosmic bureaucracy to stamp our exit papers with something so American—steel, glass, screech of brakes. It almost felt poetic.

Quick and painless, like a roller coaster ride before we went back to real life. But after a while, the system went silent.

The crash never came. Instead, we found ourselves waiting in the world’s longest holding pattern—just two guys in limbo, listening for a train that never arrived.

"System error: connection lost. Alternate cause of death required. Would you like to select cancer?"

It was a voice in my head, chipper as a DMV clerk. I blinked, sure I’d misheard. Cancer—like it was some menu option at a diner.

Derek and I were silent for a long time. "Are you kidding me..."

We shared a look, part horror, part resignation. That’s bureaucracy for you—always ready to trade one nightmare for another.

When we first arrived, Derek and I even picked out our burial plots—prime real estate, surrounded by eight cute girls.

It was all a joke then. Two college idiots picking out fantasy funerals, pretending it didn’t scare us half to death.

But on the way back, Derek got pancreatic cancer, and I got stomach cancer. The system told us to wait for “natural death” in this world, then promptly ghosted us.

Nothing like being abandoned by the one thing you’re supposed to trust. The world felt colder, lonelier. We were just two more statistics in an uncaring universe.

From what I’d read, pancreatic cancer moved fast. Derek should go before me. But I didn’t expect it to be this fast. The moment the system disappeared, Derek was already clutching his stomach, curling up in pain.

He crumpled in the hallway, sweat beading on his forehead, breath coming in shallow gasps. I panicked, grabbing my phone, my hands shaking so badly I could barely dial.

"Did it forget to turn on pain shielding? Stupid system, I swear I’ll file a complaint when I get out."

I tried to keep it together, spouting off about class-action lawsuits and Better Business Bureau complaints, but it was just noise—something to fill the fear.

Pancreatic cancer is hell. We had to get him to the hospital for morphine ASAP.

We bundled him into my beat-up Corolla, flying down backroads with the windows down. The night air smelled like dust and desperation.

When we went home to pack, we ran into Caleb wandering around the house, shirtless and covered in scratch marks. Caleb saw us, showing no shame as the homewrecker. Instead, Natalie rushed over to shield Caleb, frowning. "What are you doing back?"

The house reeked of cheap cologne and betrayal. The sight of Caleb—smirking, unashamed—made me want to throw up. Natalie blocked the doorway, eyes cold as the arctic.

Derek was in so much pain he couldn’t even bother with Natalie. He turned toward the bedroom to find his insurance card. But the bedroom was littered with men’s and women’s clothes. The photo of Natalie and Derek had fallen to the floor, shattered. Everything was a mess.

I picked my way through the wreckage, the smell of stale perfume and sweat thick in the air. The picture frame crunched under my shoe, glass sparkling like tears.

Derek turned to Natalie. "Where’s my insurance card?"

He tried to sound calm, but his voice was ragged, desperate.

"What do you need it for?"

Natalie’s tone was mocking, almost playful.

"I have cancer. I need to be hospitalized."

He said it flat, like reciting a grocery list, but the tremor in his hands betrayed him.

Natalie shrugged, still joking. "Dude, I just saw your checkup report from last week. Everything’s fine. Do you think, because Caleb has asthma, you have to compete by getting sick too?"

She laughed, but there was an ugly edge to it. She always had to be the center of attention, even now.

Caleb swaggered over, grinning. "Bro, faking cancer now? Your face is so pale—did you put on foundation?"

He looked so pleased with himself, strutting like he owned the place. My hands itched to knock him down a peg.

Derek punched Caleb in the face and laughed. "You love makeup so much? Here, have some blush."

The crack of fist against jaw echoed in the hallway. For a moment, I almost cheered. Caleb staggered, eyes wide.

Caleb was stunned, speechless for a while.

He rubbed his cheek, looking more shocked than hurt. He never saw it coming.

Natalie rushed over to push Derek away, pulled Caleb, and finally couldn’t hide the disgust in her eyes. "Before Caleb and I get back, get out of this house."

She practically spat the words, her game face finally cracked, the pain too raw to hide. The door slammed behind them, leaving us in a silence that buzzed with old pain.