Chapter 1 - The first thing David heard was his wife's scream.Not the soft kind.
Not the frightened gasp of someone waking from a nightmare.
It was the kind of scream that came from the deepest place inside a human being, a sound so raw and violent that it dragged David back into consciousness before he even understood why he was breathing.
He opened his eyes.
A hundred faces stared at him.
Every one of them was terrified.
His wife, Rebecca, stood beside the coffin with both hands covering her mouth. Her face was wet with tears. His daughter Emily had stumbled backward and was clinging to her aunt. His brother Thomas looked as if he had seen a ghost.
Which, David thought, was ironic.
Because apparently everyone believed he was one.
David blinked.
He looked down.
He was lying inside a polished wooden coffin.
He looked at Mark.
His best friend stood over him, arms folded, wearing an expression that was somehow both smug and relieved.
"I told you," Mark said.
David swallowed.
"Told me what?"
"That you weren't dead."
David stared at him.
Then he looked around the funeral hall again.
Black curtains.
White flowers.
Candles.
A giant photograph of David smiling beside Rebecca and Emily.
His own obituary printed on a stand.
A priest still frozen near the altar.
David slowly sat up.
Someone screamed again.
"Can everybody stop doing that?"
No one laughed.
David pushed himself higher.
"Why am I in a coffin?"
Nobody answered.
He looked at Rebecca.
"Becky?"
She stepped toward him.
For one second, David saw pure relief in her eyes.
Then something strange happened.
Her expression changed.
It was so quick that David almost missed it.
Relief.
Fear.
Then something that looked almost like terror.
She grabbed his face with both hands.
"You're alive."
David frowned.
"Apparently."
She hugged him so hard that his ribs hurt.
"You were dead."
"I'm noticing that."
Emily rushed forward next.
"Dad!"
David caught her as she wrapped her arms around him.
He closed his eyes.
His daughter was shaking.
"It's okay," he whispered.
Emily pulled away.
"No."
David frowned.
"What?"
She stared at him.
"You disappeared."
"What?"
"You disappeared for three days."
The room went silent.
David's smile faded.
"Three days?"
Rebecca slowly looked at Mark.
Mark looked back at her.
Nobody spoke.
David climbed out of the coffin.
His legs nearly collapsed.
Mark grabbed his shoulder.
"Easy."
David steadied himself.
"Three days?"
Thomas finally spoke.
"You don't remember?"
David shook his head.
"I remember leaving the office."
"What happened after that?"
"I... don't know."
Mark's face changed.
David noticed immediately.
"You know something."
Mark hesitated.
"I know that three days ago, you called me."
David looked confused.
"What did I say?"
"You said, 'If they tell everyone I'm dead, don't believe them.'"
A chill moved through the room.
David stared at him.
"I said that?"
Mark nodded.
"And then?"
"You told me to meet you at the old train station."
David's heart started beating faster.
"Did you?"
"I did."
Mark looked toward the coffin.
"I found your car."
David stared.
"What happened to me?"
Nobody answered.
Then Emily suddenly pointed at the front door.
"Dad."
Everyone turned.
A man stood outside the funeral hall.
He wore a gray suit.
He wasn't crying.
He wasn't shocked.
He wasn't even surprised.
He was simply watching.
David took one step toward him.
The man disappeared.
Mark ran outside.
The hallway was empty.
No footsteps.
No elevator.
Nothing.
David's breathing became heavier.
He turned around.
"Who was that?"
Rebecca said nothing.
David looked at her.
"Rebecca."
Still nothing.
He walked toward the large photograph of himself.
Something caught his attention.
There was a black ribbon attached to the bottom corner.
He lifted it.
Behind the photograph was a handwritten note.
Three words.
DAVID, DON'T TRUST HER.
David stared at the message.
Then he slowly turned around.
Rebecca was standing behind him.
Her face had gone completely white.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
David held up the note.
"Who wrote this?"
Rebecca didn't answer.
Mark came back inside.
He saw the note.
His expression hardened.
"Where did you get that?"
"Behind my own funeral photo."
Mark walked closer.
David handed it to him.
Mark read the words.
His jaw tightened.
"That's not my handwriting."
David looked at his wife.
"Do you recognize it?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"No."
David looked around the room again.
Every flower.
Every candle.
Every person.
Someone had planned his funeral.
Someone had arranged his coffin.
Someone had printed his obituary.
Someone had convinced an entire room that he was dead.
And now David was beginning to realize something much worse.
Maybe the funeral had never been meant for him to wake up from.
Maybe it had been meant to bury him before anyone discovered what he knew.
Then Mark's phone rang.
He answered.
"Hello?"
His face changed.
David watched him.
"What?"
A pause.
Then Mark slowly looked at David.
"Nobody leave the building."
David felt his stomach tighten.
"What happened?"
Mark lowered the phone.
"The medical examiner just called."
David stared at him.
"And?"
Mark swallowed.
"They said the body they identified as you was already cremated this morning."
Silence.
David looked down at the coffin.
Then back at Mark.
"But I'm right here."
Mark's eyes locked onto his.
"Exactly."
At that moment, every light in the funeral hall went out.
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And somewhere in the darkness, a woman's voice whispered:
"He's not supposed to be alive."
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