Chapter 4

"Final Death?" I questioned. "What's that? Wait, are you telling me that the dead can die again? I thought one was enough."

"It happens after every living relative who remembers their deceased relative dies, and the other dead person's story doesn't get passed on before the death. It happens all the time down here, and it's quite sad."

"I imagine. The first death is hard on the loved ones in the living world, and once their down here, when their love one dies again, they have to relive all of that pain? That's not right. It's downright depressing."

"I don't know what to say, Hector, except that I agree with you, and that's just how things work out here. Oh, and before you ask, nobody knows what happens to them when the Final Death happens."

"Well, some people on Earth wonders the same thing when the first death happens, so, it's understandable."

"Si, now you know what happens when you die the first death."

"Yeah. Maybe, they go to the Land of the Forgotten?"

"Maybe, if there is such a place, but who knows?" He changed the subject. "So, you still interested about that tour?"

"Oh, yes, most definitely."

"Then follow me, and stay close." So I followed Cheech out of the bungalow.

"We have many shacks in this community." Cheech began. "They go on for miles, and then we have special prisons for the spirits who had committed horrible acts in the Land of the Living. If you ask me, it's good that they're getting forgotten. If no one in the Living World wanted them, we spirits in the Land of the Dead sure as heck don't want them either."

"I get what you are saying, Cheech, but they were still human beings with families, and are now spirits with families. It's a shame that they have to be gone with so much hate."

"Well, if they didn't want to be hated, they shouldn't have done what they did in the Living World. They're a disgrace, and we're glad to see them go."

"Well, maybe some are misunderstood."

"Or maybe not. Are you going to argue with me on this?"

"No."

"Good."

"So, evil and twisted people like the one living German leader guy right now from the radio?"

"Yeah, but don't worry. He won't come here. Everyone here is from Mexico, from the Panteon Santa Cecilia." I sighed with relief.

"Good. Because I wouldn't want to meet a mass murderer, or a murderer in general. Those kind of people are very sick to commit that to other people, or someone else who's completely innocent."

"I agree with you 100% on that, mi amigo. But unfortunately, despite being hated, they're still remembered." I frowned. He had a point. I had to agree with him. We went on.

We were in front of an orphanage. I saw several kids playing on the outside playground, and smiled. I then frowned, remembering why they were here.

"Even kids are being forgotten?" I asked.

"Yep!" Cheech responded, "It's a cruel, cruel world we live in and lived in."

"Well at least they're having the time of their afterlives before it's too late." Cheech laughed at this.

"True, it's nice seeing kids being kids, so innocent."

"Yeah." A picture of a three-year-old Coco flashed into my mind. I wonder what the rest of her childhood was like. We then heard a kid's voice.

"Hey, Libertad!" A boy hollered. A girl looked at him, and groaned, obviously not wanting him to be here.

"You're not suppose to be here, Lazaro!" She spoke.

"So, are you almost forgotten?" He asked. Libertad was about to answer, when orange flickered though her body. She fell to the ground. The boy laughed.

"Yep; you're being forgotten all right! So, how does it feel to be forgotten, huh? Your parents not wanting you in life and the afterlife? That's sad! Fortunately, my parents love me." I was mad. The nerve of this kid! He had no right talking to her that way! Making fun of her because she was fading? What was wrong with this kid? "Sorry you never felt that love, and never will." That did it. I stormed up to him.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Leave her alone!" He saw me, and ran off, laughing. I looked at the poor girl.

"Are you alright?"

"Gracias, Señor." Libertad thanked me. "That creep's been coming here, taunting us for living here." I felt sorry for her. "Why don't my parents want me?" I was caught off guard with this question. She looked liked she might cry at any second. "My Papa left me before I was born, and I was taken away from Mama. I didn't like what she was doing to me. Why didn't my parents love me, Señor? Why?" I looked at her, sullenly not knowing what to say. She was asking a good question. How could parents not love their child? "Why, Señor?"

"I don't know, Libertad." I managed to say to her. "You're a very sweet girl that deserve to be loved." She smiled up at me.

"Libertad!" A woman ran up to her, hugged her, and picked her up. "Let's get you inside." With that, she walked away. I saw them leave.

"Come, Hector." I heard Cheech's voice. "Let's continue the tour." I agreed, and went after him.

"You were very good with that child." Cheech told me. "You were a good father; it shows."

"Yeah," I responded. "I was ecstatic when Imelda told me when she was expecting. I gritoed so loud that Imelda told me that all of Mexico could hear me." Cheech chucked.

"Oh, I believe it."

"When that boy was teasing her, my fatherly instincts kicked in. I had to help."

"Kids can be so cruel."

"Yes, but they can also be a real joy. You just need to teach them right from wrong, and love them with all of your might."

"I was never a father, but agree with you. Unfortunately, parents can do all they can, but their child can still grow up bad." I sighed, knowing he had a point.

"Si, a good parent can only hope." We resumed onwards.

"That building over there," Cheech continued, pointing to a nearby building. "Is the gymnasium." He pointed to two more buildings. "We also have a pool and a sauna."

"Cool, do you ever use them?" I questioned. He looked at me. "What?"

"Do I look like I do those activities?" I shrugged.

"I don't know? Maybe? I can see you using the sauna and hot tub. You do have a hot tub here, do you?"

"Si, we do."

"Well, if I move here, which I don't plan on anytime soon, because, I don't belong here, no offense..."

"No offense taken; just get to the point."

"I'll make sure you go to the gym every day. Excercise seems is important, Ceech."

"I'm not young like you, Hector."

"That's just it. You're the same age as when you died in 1899, so..."

"You remember the year I died in?"

"Yeah, it was the same year my wife was born in, so that makes it easier to remember. The point is, you've been the same age for over forty years, and will be possibly for eternity. If you don't excercise now because you're 'too old', when will you? You're not getting any younger or older."

"Hmmm, you got a point there."

"You darn tooten' I have a point." He glared at me.

"Don't say 'darn tooten', it doesn't suit you, and sounds weird when you say it."

"Sorry, but I do have a point."

"Then, I hope you never move here."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Well, tour's done. You can go home now." He went back towards his house. I went after him.

"Wait, we're done?"

"Yeah, did you want more? Young people these days. Aways wanting more. Sorry, but there ain't no more. Check back here in a few years. We may have something to you liking, then again, maybe not."

I followed him inside his house because he said he might have something for me.

Once inside, he handed me a brochure.

"Here's something for you the next time you visit. It has everything that you can do here, what times, and what days." I looked through it, then at him.

"You think I'm coming back?"

"Well, I imagine you want to visit me."

"Oh, si, you are absolutely right I'm going to visit. Your family may be forgetting you, but not Cousin Hector. I'm always here for you!" I readied him to hug me.

"I'm not going to hug you. I'm not the hugging type." I let it go.

"Right, sorry."

"You can borrow anything you want."

"Anything?" He nodded.

"Yep. You name it. My fancy napkins, my mini-fridge, my lasso. It's yours."

"Even your femur?" He looked at me funny.

"Femur?! Why will you need my femur?!" I laughed.

"I'm kidding! That was a joke." He wasn't laughing. "A bad joke, but a joke. C'mon! We all have funny bones, so why aren't you laughing?" I sighed. "I'll be going now." And with that, I was off.

On the bus ride home, I looked at the brochure, and was amazed. For such a little community, there were sure a lot of things to do there.

The next day, the radio announced tickets for Ernesto's Sunrise Spectacular, a concert he is doing on Dia de Muertos, at you guessed it, sunrise. I groaned at the mere mention of my former best friend.

"You still mad at Ernesto huh, Hector?" My brother asked me. I looked at him.

"He stole my songs." I told him. "So, yeah, I'm still mad at him, and possibly will be for afterlife."

"I understand, hijo." Papa spoke. "If my friend stole my songs, I'll knock him to next week, and perhaps beyond."

"Did we ever tell the police about it?" Emilio wanted to know. "Because, I don't think we have."

"I don't think we have, ether." Papa looked at me. "Hector?" I shook my head.

"No, we haven't told them, and I feel like we shouldn't."

"Heck, yeah, we sho...wait, what? What do you mean? They deserve to know." He snapped his bony fingers. "We should announce it at the Sunrise Spectacular. Bring him to justice at his own concert, man, everyone will know, and hate him then."

"No." I disagreed. "They won't believe us. It's too late."

"What? They deserve to know, bro. What he did to you was unforgivable. It's like getting away with murder.'

"No. Getting away with murder is much worse, not that I was murdered, because I wasn't. Thank goodness I wasn't."

"I know, but..." He looked at Papa. "You think they should know, right, Papa?" Papa nodded. He looked back at me. "See?

"But we should tell them sooner whether then wait three months until the concert." Papa stated.

"Agreed. I miss how smart you were, Papa. But we should've let them know when we learned about Ernesto's thievery."

"Agreed. Better late then never is what I say." Emilio looked at me.

"Hector," He said to me. "You should tell them. After all, this was your life's work."

"I don... si, I'll tell them." That was a big fat lie. I still felt like he has too many fans, that no skeleton was going to believe it. I hated to lie, but I just told them to get off of my back. It's easier this way.

"You'll feel better after this, hijo." Papa told me. "Trust me, he won't get away with murder."

"He never did. Well, I don't know what happened after I died, and before he died, but I'm sure he never did. He may be wicked for stealing my songs, and claiming them as his own, and I hate him for that, but he knows better then to resort to murder."

I had just got to a table filled with skeletons when one of them held up a ticket to show it off to his friends. They all marveled at it.

"How did you get a ticket?" One of them wanted to know.

"I won it at the lottery." The ticket holder told them.

"Lucky!" Another skeleton piped up. "Do you even like Ernesto's music?"

"Of course I do, who doesn't? He's one of he most famous skeletons here in the Land of the Dead. I can recite all of his songs by memory."

"Then prove it. Sing one of his songs."

"Okay. What one?" His friend thought about this.

"Sing 'Remember Me'!" His other friend put in.

"Oh yeah, that's my absolute favorite!"

"Okay." The ticket holder was about to begin when I cleared my throat, both not wanting him to sing, and to get all of their orders in. I was killing two birds with one stone! They all looked at me.

"Ready to order?" I questioned.

"Oh, yeah, sure!" He looked at all of his friends who all nodded. He then looked at me as I readied my pen.

"What'll it be, fellows?"

As soon as I left after their orders were taken, Ticket Holder Guy started singing 'Remember Me.' I hesitated, I wanted to tell them that Ernesto, was a thief, and that was my song that he was singing, but I compose myself. Hector, no! You're working, don't make a scene. You're better then this. Just let him sing your song that that creep stole from you. With that, I went to serve my next customer.

The rest of the day all I heard were talks about Ernesto, how great he was, his Sunrise Spectacular, and spirits singing my songs. Whenever I thought I was going to lose it, I had a mini conference with myself to make myself better. It was hard, but I managed. I faked my smiles, and pulled though the day like nothing was wrong. I never thought that I could ever get tired of listening to my own songs.

"I don't know who this Ernesto guy is," My boss stated when we were cleaning tables at the end of the day. "But judging from everyone else, he seems like a swell guy. Perhaps I should consider getting a ticket, and seeing what all the loco kids are into these days. What do you say, Hector?" I just kept working, not saying anything, pretending that I didn't hear. "Hector; did you hear what I said? I said..."

"You do want you want." I just said.

"Okay, I will. Do you like his music?" Again, I pretended I didn't hear. "Hector? I asked if you..." I lost it. I dropped everything onto the floor, and looked at him, mad.

"You do want you want, okay?!" He looked scared at my sudden outbust.

"Hector, I..."

"No, I'm tired of hearing about him. He's not that great, but if you want to go to his estupido concert then be my guest. I won't stop you, but please, leave me out of it." He sighed.

"I see you hate him. I'm sorry, Hector. I won't mention him ever again." I felt bad.

"I'm sorry. I was mad, and took it out on you. You did nothing wrong. It's your opinion, and I won't judge you for it. Am I fired?"

"Well, thanks for apologizing, and, no, you aren't fired." I sighed with relief. It was the second time in my entire afterlife where I thought my career would end because of what I have done.

We cleaned down tables, and worked in silence after that. I still felt bad for what I did. How could I be so stupid?

I was leaving for the bus when a bony finger tapped me on the shoulder. I looked, and couldn't believe it. It was Ernesto's father.

Señor Cruz?" I asked, knowing very well it was him.

"Hola, Hector." He greeted. "In the fles...si, it is I. But please, call me Ricardo."

"Okay, what are you doing here?"

"I have to talk to you." I was shocked.

"Me?" He nodded.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk to you about my son."

"He's here if you want to talk to him yourself."

"I know. I tried talking to him, several times in fact, but he doesn't want to talk to me." That made sense. In the living world, Ernesto's father worked a lot, so he wasn't really part of his son's life. His grandparents mainly took care of him. That's why he liked music so much. Music, me, and his grandparents were his real comforts when he was growing up. He hasn't told anyone this until he told me when I was fourteen, and he was seventeen. He told me his dad started working a lot more after his mom died soon after he was born. Poor Ernesto. Maybe that's why he wasn't a family man, and why he got in trouble a lot in school. I got in trouble once or twice too, but not as much as he had. I felt bad for him, but that's no excuse for what he had done to me.

"I want you to talk to him." He continued.

"Oh, I don't know."

"Please, Hector? He's your friend. He'll listen to you more then me. I don't know if he told you this, but we had a huge fight before you guys left." I was going to tell him that we weren't friends anymore, and I couldn't care less, but didn't.

"No, no, he didn't. What about?"

"I wanted to be in his life again as soon as he came back, but he refused. Said it was too late. The damage was already done. And he's right." He started to sob,. "He was right. This was my fault. I should've been there, but I wasn't. I wish I could take it all back, you know? I did love him deep down, but I put work before him, my one and only son." And once again, I felt bad. I know what it was like being too late to want to do things with your family. I wanted to help him, but talk to Ernesto? I don't know. Part of me wants to talk to him, and scold that jerk, but part of me doesn't. He wiped his eyes.

"Sorry."

"No, don't be. I understand." He looked at me.

"You do?" I nodded, and told him my story.

"I'm sorry, Hector." He said to me. "Truly I am. I can't believe my son would do that to you. But now you know that family's important." I nodded in agreement.

"More important then anything else." I agreed. He changed the subject.

"So, are you still going to confront him about it? You can also say that I love him, apologize for me, and that I never meant to hurt him. You can kill two birds with one stone."

"No offense, but I don't really want to talk to him,"

"And that's understandable. But please, por favor, try. If not for you, for me." I thought about this.

"I'll think about it." He smiled.

"Thanks, Hector. I hope you succeed, and if not, at least you tried your best. That's all I can ask for. I'll keep on trying too."

I was standing outside of Ernesto's incomplete mansion. Ricardo had told me where to go, so here I was. The builders weren't sure if Ernesto should move in until it was finished, but Ernesto insisted. It was huge, and by the looks of it, fancy. I was jealous. He must be pretty wealthy to live here.

He didn't deserve it. I did. If it was the other way around, I would be the one living here, not Ernesto. I would invite Coco and Imelda when they pass to live here with me, Of course, they don't have to, and I didn't need a mansion. I don't need fame, and all the glory. All I needed was my family by my side. That was good enough.

I could've been a somebody, but because of him, I was a nobody. And I think that is partly why I am being forgotten. And I was not okay with that.

Okay, Hector. I told myself. I know you don't want to do this, but this'll be good. Let all of that anger out, don't bottle it up. Remember, your family and Ricardo are counting on you. Don't let them down. And with that, I walked towards the huge building.

"Hey!" Shouted a security guard. "You can't go in there." I looked at him. "State your business."

"I need to speak to Ernesto." I told him.

"Your name?"

"Hector Rivera." He talked into his walke-talkie for a bit, and listened to Ernesto on the other side.

"Okay, I'll tell him." He looked back at me.

"Sorry, Ernesto doesn't know any Hector Riveras." I was shocked.

"What?! But, I was his best friend. You have to let me in!" He shrugged.

"Sorry, he doesn't want to see you. And if he doesn't want to see you, you're not getting in."

"But you don't understand, Ernesto, he..." Should I tell him, and expose Ernesto for what he truly was a, a backstabbing fraud?

"If you don't leave right now, I'll call the cops, and have you arrested." Well, I certainly didn't want that. I remembered what Carlos had said to me about what'll happen the next time I get locked up. I sighed, calming myself. It wasn't worth it.

"Fine; I'll leave." With that, I left.

Well, that was a bust. The next time, I'll see Ricardo, I'll have to tell him. He'll be muy disappointed, but hey, I can say that I tried my best just like he wanted. He'll just have to live with it. Just like I have to live with my living family not putting my photo up on the Ofrenda each year.

I told Emilio and Papa about it. They were pretty disappointed, but glad that I took the shot.

As Dia de Muertos approached, talks about Ernesto, and his Sunrise Spectacular were increasing every day. We even put in a radio that played my songs sung by Ernesto over and over. And just like the day with Ticket Holder Guy, I kept calm, and faked my mood to the customers, my boss, and everybody else.

Then on the day, after I tried and failed for the thousandth time (exaggerating), I visited Ceech in ShantyTown, and told him about it. He said what Emilio and Papa had told me, that I needed to tell the police, and/or maybe try again.

"I can't." I told him.

"You can't or you won't? Cause they're two separate things. You have to face your demons, Hector." He was right, of course. I can't deny that.

"What if they don't believe me?"

"Then you make them believe you."

"How do I do that?" He shrugged.

"Beats me. The point is, you can't let Ernesto win. You have to take the bull by the horns. Because if he wins, then you'll have to live like this your whole afterlife, and you don't want that, so you?"

"No. No I don't."

"Then show that no good what you're made of. Don't be a coward. Stand up for yourself."

"I will, thanks Cheech." And that wasn't a lie. I was really going to do it. "Oh, and Cheech?"

"Hmmm?"

"Before I forget again, I'm sorry about our fight before you moved to this terrib...this place." He was confused.

"We were fighting? I don't remember that. What about?"

"Well, it was about..."

"Ah, well, whatever it was, it was a long time ago, water under the bridge. I forgive you." I sighed in relief.

"Well, that's good."

"And if you follow through with exposing Ernesto, I'll consider going to the gym with you the next time you visit." I beamed.

"Sounds like a plan! I won't let you down!"

And so I walked up into the nearest police station, told them everything, and they believed me. Ernesto was arrested, I got his mansion, and Iived there with Papa, Emilio, invited Cheech, and soon after, Mama, Imelda, and Coco. Imelda forgave me, and I could finally cross for I was now remembered, loved, and respected. Afterlife was coming up Hector! The end.

That was a lie. I told them, that was the truth, but just as I feared, they were too big of fans to believe me. They just laughed in my face.

"It's the truth." I said to them. "I'm not making this up. I wouldn't lie to an officer, because I know that's a huge no-no." They stopped laughing, and became serious.

"Listen." Said one. "If you blab this to anyone else, and keep doing it, you're going to be in serious trouble."

"Even if it's the truth?"

"We both know it's not. Admit it. You're a fan just like us, and just want the attention."

"No, I..." He became serious again.

"Don't tell anyone, understand?"

"I feel like you're not being good police officers by telling me this. You're supposed to help me, and look into this."

"We are being good police officers. Don't tell us how to do our jobs, okay?! Do you want to be locked up?!"

"No, no, no, no.. I was just..." I sighed. I wasn't going to win, and didn't want to offend him any longer. "I'll take my leave." He sat back down on his chair.

"That's a good dead Mexican citizen."

"Yeah, yeah!" Did I say that out loud? Fortunately, none of the officers called me out on it, so I just let it go, and made my leave.

I told Emilio and Papa, and they were disappointed. They tried talking to the police too with the same result. After that, they never brought it up again.

In 1954, Frida Kahlo died. It was sad and happy at the same time. Sad because she left the Land of the Living at the age of 47, and happy because we have her now. And she died just a few days after her birthday just like me. Papa and I developed a love for her work here in the Land of the Dead.

Soon after, Mama died. And as Papa stated, he moved out with her. We were sad, but happy for Papa at the same time. We also confirmed my story with Mama (after she hit me with her shoe). She had a hard time believing it at first, but she came around.

Then one day, in the seventies, I saw...Imelda! She was just walking on the marigold street. I was so excited that I ran up to her. I wanted to see her, but she didn't want to see me.