The light rain fell silently outside the one-storey bungalow. The window was open and some drops splashed on the sill, sending droplets spraying lightly into Dan's living room.

Dan sat cross-legged and bare-chested on his sofa, a cigarette dangling unlit in his left hand. He struck a match, now the only light in the room except for the dulled sunlight coming in from the overcast day. He lit his cigarette, took a long puff, exhaled, and continued speaking.

"We're getting a little off track here. Let's remain on the subject of death and it's nature."

"But God is so much a part of what death is," objected Charlie, sitting across the room in a beanbag chair.

"Well, I want to stick to a strict definition of death, uh... the loss of life as we understand it," continued Dan. "The way I see it is this. When I'm talking to you and you look in my eyes, you see something there, some sparkle of life. At death, that sparkle is gone. A corpse's eyes have no gleam."

"I kind of know what you're saying," said Hank, at a far corner of the room reclining in an easy chair. "When you compare a freshly deceased corpse to a living person, there really appears to be no difference. Something caused the life to leave, but where did it go? What left?"

"Exactly," responded Dan. "What does leave is the soul, the personality if you prefer, our real selves. The body is a materiel haven for the real us. The soul is actually trapped there until death sets it free."

"And once free," returned Charlie, "its destiny is heaven or hell."

"Well, that is where the mystery lies," said Dan. "Depending on your faith, it may go to a wide variety of possible places. Heaven, hell, nirvana, reincarnation, purgatory, limbo, the Great Spirit"

"And of course," said Hank, "a mystery it shall remain."

"Not necessarily," responded Dan as he put out his cigarette in the small ashtray on the rectangular table in front of him.

"Are you talking to ghosts, Dan?" asked Hank only half-jokingly.

A chuckle emanated from Charlie's end of the room.

Dan uncrossed his legs and put his feet on the floor. "Fellas," he said as he reached for the pack of cigarettes at the far end of the table. "I am really determined to solve that mystery. So determined, in fact, that I am willing to risk all else to do so."

Hank and Charlie stared blankly at Dan as he pulled out a cigarette, stuck it in his mouth, lit it, rubbed his stomach, exhaled a chestful of rich tobacco, sniffed loudly, and continued speaking.

"I'd like to make a simple deal with you guys. Simple now, but much more complex when the time comes. But this: that whichever of the three of us dies first, he will come back to communicate with the other two, and let them know what it's like at the other end of things."

Once again, Charlie couldn't help chuckling. "Dan, you are one crazy son of a bitch. That's so crazy that I have to go along with it," he said and chuckled a little more.

Dan looked to Hank. "I guess you can count me in," he quietly said, lifting an eyebrow.

Dan smiled. "I couldn't be happier than knowing you two are into this. Well," he said, standing, "there's only one brief detail to be worked out."

He left the room for the briefest of moments and returned with a piece of poster board.

"I wrote out a contract for us all to read aloud together and then sign. In blood, of course." It was then that Hank and Charlie noticed Dan was carrying a small shining blade. They looked at each other, grinning stupidly, and then got up and walked to where Dan stood.

"In blood?" Charlie asked.

"For a document as important as this, only blood will do," Dan said with total seriousness in his eyes. "Because, well, you know, blood signifies life. When you give blood to a purpose, you're giving life to it."

"All right, then," Hank replied. "Let's start reading."

Dan held the poster high so they all could see its words and they began reading aloud.

"We, the undersigned, believing life goes on with death not ending it but only acting as a transition, do firmly vow that whichever of us should be first to leave will return to tell the others the way he has gone, at the risk, even, of all that may be held dear in the beyond."

Dan lowered the poster. The three men glanced back and forth at each other, then shook hands, first Dan with Hank, then Dan with Charlie, then Charlie with Hank. Dan then jabbed the tip of his right forefinger to get the blood flowing.

It was three nights later that Dan and Hank had dinner at the Viennese Inn located about three quarters of a mile from Dan's bungalow. It was drizzling outside as it had been for the past three days.

The two men ate without saying much. After dinner they ordered a couple beers to help them relax in the Austrian motif of the inn. Paintings of Medieval emperors hung on the walls, and elegant arches marked the doorways that joined several small dining areas.

The waiter brought them each a second beer. Dan thanked him and turned to Hank.

"You know," he said, "it could be quite a while before the words of our contract go into effect."

"Yeah," Hank answered distractedly, "quite a while."

"It's possible the other two will be very old men," continued Dan.

"Old and gray," responded Hank, now paying attention to Dan.

"Old, gray, and senile," said Dan, "perhaps unable to grasp the consequences of what the one who returns has to say."

Hank looked at Dan's eyes and then down at his own beer. He wiped away some of the condensation on the outside of his glass. "Maybe it'll happen sooner than we think," he finally said.

"Maybe we can make it happen sooner," Dan calmly responded.

Hank lifted his glass and took a sip. He put it down and asked, "What are you trying to say?"

"That we speed up the process by sending Charlie into the next stage of life," Dan answered.

Hank was a little nervous, yet intrigued. "You're saying we murder him?" he asked shakily.

"We've all agreed there is no real death," responded Dan. "So we'd only be sending him on to a higher fulfillment. And we can do it painlessly and with no trouble from the authorities."

"How's that?" asked Hank, unsure of how to react to Dan's talk of murder, except to ask for more details.

Dan lifted his glass and drained it. The waiter came over and asked if he'd like another.

"Yes, please."

Hank finished his as the waiter watched and then took both glasses to the bar.

"Potassium chloride," said Dan, "when injected, slowly travels through the bloodstream to the heart and then clogs it. A fatal heart attack results. Within four hours, the potassium chloride is completely dissolved and no trace of it can be found in the body."

"Uh, that's... that's amazing," was all Hank could bring himself to say.

The waiter returned and placed a glass of beer before each man.

"Thank you," said Dan.

The waiter nodded, turned and walked away.

"Then are you with me?" asked Dan.

"Uh, you're sure this is gonna work out?" asked Hank in response.

"Positive. Nothing can go wrong. We'll get Charlie drunk tomorrow night, let him crash at my place, and... you know the rest."

Hank looked at Dan, who was now smiling. He nervously lifted his glass. At that moment, Dan lifted his and held it toward Hank. Hank automatically clicked his against Dan's. Dan was still smiling.

The following evening, three men, the best of friends, merrily stumbled into a one-storey bungalow. They went to the kitchen where the host brought out a bottle of vodka, already half consumed from a festive night of the past.

"Gentlemen, a good-night toast is in order," bellowed Dan.

"No arguments here," laughed Charlie.

Dan filled three shot glasses, handed one to each of the other two men, and then lifted his to eye level.

"To life everlasting," he said, barely above a whisper.

"To life everlasting," the others repeated quietly.

They drank down their shots and placed their glasses on the kitchen table almost simultaneously.

"Well gents, it's been quite a night," said Dan. "It's time for me to go pass out. You two can fight over the couch and guest bed." Turning, he murmured, "G'night" and, staggering slightly, made his way through the hall leading to his bedroom.

Hank then told Charlie he could have the guest room. Charlie thanked him and said good night.

An hour later, Hank was awakened by Dan shaking him.

"What time is it?" asked Hank.

Dan held a finger to his lips, then whispered, "It's time."

Hank sat up, trying to wake his mind.

"Come," said Dan in a whisper, then walked toward the guest room. Hank got up and followed.

Dan turned on the guest room light. Charlie was in bed flat on his back. It was then that Hank noticed Dan was carrying a hypodermic needle and a pair of handcuffs in his left hand. He placed the needle on the end table by Charlie's head and then slipped one cuff around Charlie's left wrist and, very carefully and quietly, the other through a loop in the bar holding the box spring. He turned to Hank, looked in his eyes and, anticipating his question, stated simply, "In case he wakes up while we're injecting."

Dan picked up the needle and told Hank to hold Charlie's cuffed arm firmly, both above and below the elbow. Hank did so and Charlie stirred slightly in his sleep, attempting to lift his right arm. Hank held on tightly.

Dan probed a bit at Charlie's inner elbow joint and, finding a proper vein, carefully inserted the needle. Charlie's whole body twitched in response, but his arm was stilled thanks to Hank. As Dan injected the needle's deadly contents, Charlie opened his eyes and, seeing the needle in his arm, attempted to pull away, then to sit up, but was successful at neither.

"What the hell are you guys doing?!" he yelled frantically.

"Relax," said Dan, removing the needle. "Very soon it'll all be over. Remember, you must return and tell us what death has in store."

"I'm not ready to die!" screamed Charlie. He glanced around excitedly and, spotting an empty soda bottle on the end table, grabbed it and smashed the end of it on the bed's headboard. With the jagged remainder of the bottle, he began stabbing and cutting at his left shoulder. At the same time he stood and was jerking and pulling at his left arm. Dan and Hank were surprised at this strange turn of events and stood back fearfully from the violent scene.

Charlie was cutting deeper into his shoulder and blood was pouring down his arm and left side onto the plush guest room carpet. The sound of glass cutting against bone could now be heard. Charlie threw his entire body weight away from his arm. A snapping sound was heard. He tried the same maneuver again and his arm separated from his shoulder with a loud wet pop. Charlie fell on the floor in a bloody heap at Hank's feet. Redness rushed out onto Hank's brown trousers and white sneakers.

Hank jumped back and turned his head to face the hall. He leaned up against the doorpost, trying to settle his stomach.

Dan knelt down at Charlie's right and put his hand on his back to keep him down. No sound came from the bleeding man. Dan felt for Charlie's pulse but there was none.

"He's dead," said Dan clinically. "Or at least his body is."

Hank turned back to look. He was sweating profusely.

"What was that?!" he screamed. "It was supposed to be clean! It was supposed to be painless! It's a goddam bloody mess! How the hell are we..."

In a quick motion, Dan stood and jumped over the body, grabbed Hank by his shirt front and threw him up against the bedroom door. He held him by his shirt saying calmly but sternly, "Keep quiet and calm down."

"I can't calm down!" Hank yelled.

"Shut up! We're Okay"

"He's dead. He's dead."

"Things are okay," said Dan. "We have to take the body somewhere and bury it. That's all. Things will be alright. It's only a slight change of plans."

He let go of Hank. "There's a trunk in the closet," he told him. "Dump all the shit out and bring it in here. Go ahead."

Hank was dazed but moved to carry out the order. Meanwhile, Dan unlocked the solitary arm from the cuffs. He placed the arm at Charlie's left. The blood now flowing from the shoulder was down to a trickle.

Hank dragged the black trunk to the guest room doorway. "Alright," said Dan, "grab his legs." Dan moved to Charlie's upper section. They lifted the body and then carefully lowered it into the trunk, face down with legs folded at the knees so it would fit. Hank winced as he picked up the arm and placed it inside.

Out on the rainy highway, Dan tried to lift Hank's spirits.

"I know a great place in the woods where I used to hunt. We'll bury it in a real deep hole. Nobody will ever find it. Besides, soon enough we'll know the answer to the eternal secret, and what will matter in this life then?"

"People are gonna wonder where he is," stated Hank flatly.

"We'll come up with something. He was depressed and wanted to get away from it all. Who knows where he went? Something along those lines."

Hank responded with a groan.

Dan turned on the radio. The loud rock music attempted to cheer Hank as Dan navigated the minivan further up the highway. But Hank was sick with depression and guilt and was regretting what was happening.

The music on the radio came to an end. A voice interrupted and stated, "This is the pact. This is the fulfillment."

As the vehicle raced at eighty miles per hour up the dark wet highway, Dan looked excitedly at Hank. "You hear that?!" he yelled.

"What?" asked Hank.

"Dan, Hank, it's me!" said the radio.

"It's him! It's Charlie!" screamed Dan.

"I can't believe this!" yelled Hank.

"You guys want to know what it's like here, right?" asked the radio.

"Yeah! Yeah!" yelled Dan and Hank.

"Do you guys really want to know what it's like?" asked the radio.

"Yeah!" yelled Hank.

"Yes, we do!" screamed Dan.

The car then lost control, colliding with the guard rail, flipping and plunging over the edge of a cliff, with the screams of Dan and Hank heard by no one.