Life after Death, a 'COCO' fanfic by Tsunami Storm

Chapter 3: Socorro


-Mayo 1st, año 2017-

"-and to the Land that would become my prison- for the next ninety-six years."

Héctor leaned back in the armchair in the Rivera family's sitting room in the Land of the Dead, finishing his tale and scratching his faithful alebrije- and apparently Miguel's- behind the floppy ears, much to Dante's pleasure. "I know, not exactly a happy ending, but you all know how it ends. I'm here, aren't I?" He joked to lighten the mood somewhat after his depressing tale.

"So, the perro is your alebrije as well as Miguelito's? How is that possible?" Imelda asked, fully invested in her late husband's story and sitting on the edge of her seat. Beside her, their granddaughter Victoria was furiously copying all of this down in a notebook that someone- probably Elena- had left on the ofrenda years ago just for her. Her hermana had obviously remembered that she'd liked to write short stories in her spare time when she was alive. Victoria now suspected that she got her 'artistic' side from her abuelo, as Mamá Imelda never really approved of all of that fanciful 'fluff' like art or fiction stories. To say nothing of music. But all of that was in the past now. Nowadays it would be a very rare occurrence to find either Zapatería silent as the family worked on honing their craft- Héctor in the Land of the Dead or Miguel in the Living world- serenading their families with both well-known songs or ones that they just made up on the spot.

Seated on the loveseat were Julio and his sister Rosita, also engrossed in the tale that their papá-in-law was weaving. Rosita was forced to hold back small sniffles every five minutes- it seemed- during the telling, her metaphorical heart nearly breaking multiple times for her hermanita's papá. All this time, he'd just been trying to get home! It was all nearly too much for the matronly skeleton.

In two identical armchairs on the opposite side of the room sat Imelda's brothers, Óscar and Felipe, who kept exchanging guilty glances as Héctor finally explained the story of his death- no, his murder- to the family. They were part of the reason Héctor never explained himself to Imelda. They would chase him off half the time to spare their hermana the heartbreak that would surely come from seeing his face again.

Héctor smiled softly, continuing his tale. "Oh, on the first Día de Muertos when I found I couldn't cross the bridge, I just went for the next best thing." He shrugged, ruthlessly squashing the bad memories before they had a chance to surface in his mind and ruin the mood. "I sent my alebrije to watch over my family for me. Not that I ever stopped trying to get over myself. Dante never had any problems crossing the bridge, and- even if he did- he had wings to fly over the ravine if the bridge disappeared before he could return. I guess he stayed over in the Land of the Living so long that he actually forgot he was an alebrije. He looked pretty shocked on Pepita's back after you fished us out of that cenote." He chuckled, recalling the harrowing night of the most recent Día de Muertos with a fond smile. He couldn't be more proud of his great-great grandson- no, of his hero. Miguel had saved his life- er, afterlife- almost at the cost of his own. Not to mention that he'd brought his whole family back together, and even lifted the century-long ban on music. If that didn't qualify him as a hero, Héctor didn't know what would.

"So that's why that street dog was always hanging around the Zapatería!" Imelda smiled, raising an eye-ridge at her goofy but surprisingly resourceful husband. "And here I often blamed Coco because she kept feeding the mooching pooch." She laughed abashedly, pulling a few loose strands of hair back into her bun in a gesture of bashful discomfort. Héctor remembered that she would tuck those strands behind her ear when she was alive, and she always did it when he inevitably made her blush at something he did or said.

"That's my girl!" Héctor laughed, slapping his patella and beaming from ear hole to ear hole. "So I guess you had two alebrijes guarding the family in Santa Cecilia, after little Pepita- um- you know."

". But I should have known that Pepita would never let something as little as dying of old age keep her from the family she loved. Ever since you found her- a half-starved kitten in that drain pipe during that terrible rainstorm- and gave her the last pieces of your sandwich, she adopted every one of our family members as her 'pets'. Remember, with cats, the gato owns you, not the other way around." Imelda giggled, and Héctor closed his eyes in bliss at the sound. Oh, how he'd missed hearing the sound of his beloved's laughter! It was like a chorus of angels.

"I may have introduced her to the family, but that gato never did like me very much." Héctor chuckled, his mind in the past. "You, however- well, she never left you alone, did she? And our little Coco- Pepita was always as sweet as azúcar with her. I kept getting hisses and threats of claws." He laughed, tossing a lopsided smirk out the window at Pepita, who was curled up in the courtyard next to the fountain. As if she knew people were talking about her, she raised her head just enough to look in through the window, gave a halfhearted, sleepy growl, then went right back to her siesta. That earned her a few chuckles from the deceased Riveras, and a few of them shook their heads slightly in mock exasperation.

"Now Héctor, you're not being entirely fair." Imelda chided gently, just a hint of teasing in her voice. "If Pepita didn't like you at all, she wouldn't have let you hold onto her tail when we got you and Miguel out of that sinkhole."

"Ah, but that's where we disagree, mí amor." Héctor chuckled back, also gently teasing to continue the joke. "I think it was because Miguelito insisted that I come back with you, that Pepita let me come within ten feet of her. Like I said, she really doesn't like me."

"She likes you more than me though, Papá Héctor." Julio laughed nervously, speaking up for the first time. "It took forever for her to trust me when I was dating Coco. She was harder to win over than Mamá Imelda!" He chuckled, his head barely visible above his collar and under his ten-gallon cowboy hat. "And I don't think that's changed, even though we've both been here for almost fifty years."

"Hey, at least she never broke any of your bones!" Héctor huffed, feigning offense. He looked down at his right lowermost rib and pointed to the portion that was duct-taped together, just like his ulna when he and Chicharron had met. "I got this for just trying to explain myself, and that gato loco pounces on me, bats me up in the air with those huge paws of hers, then sends me flying halfway across the ciudad with that spin kick that she used on Ernesto last Día de Muertos." He huffed, sending a halfhearted glare out the window to the source of his discomfort, but Pepita was already asleep, peacefully sunning herself in the afternoon glow of the celestial fireball. Seeing this, Héctor huffed in disappointment and rested his chin on his hand and his elbow on his knee, making a pouting face that made him look rather silly.

Victoria, always the practical one, was piqued. "So how did you break your leg, then? You were limping pretty badly when we confronted De la Cruz at the Sunrise Spectacular. Or should I say, 'Ernesto de la CREEP'." She smirked.

Héctor snorted, his bad mood quickly forgotten at his granddaughter's sense of humor. "Ha! That's a good one, mí'ja! Mind if I use that from now on?" He laughed, and Victoria nodded with a smug smile. But then Héctor's smile turned upside down again as he returned to the past.

"Right after he died, I went to ask him what happened after he- disappeared in México City. I wanted to ask him why he passed off my songs as his own, and why he never gave me any credit for them. Not even posthumously." He explained, his mood once again souring as he thought of his former friend. He gave a small, shy smile to his family, then dropped the bomb. "I never even made it past the front gate. His seguridad roughed me up, then threw me out- quite literally- and I landed badly on an ancient Aztec temple of some kind. Cold, hard, unyielding stone. That's also when I got the other clothes that I had when I eventually met Miguel. My old charro- well- it pretty much got shredded to pieces in that scuffle. I couldn't walk around in my birthday suit- figuratively speaking- so I bought the cheapest outfit I could get, with what little change I still had on me from selling that train ticket to an antique collector."

"¡Ay, Díos mio!" Rosita gasped. "You poor soul! You have had such a hard time here from the very beginning! Now I wish we'd disobeyed Mamá Imelda and put your fóto up on Día de Muertos! I know Coco kept that torn piece in that scrapbook of hers, along with all the letters you managed to send home." She blurted, but then clapped a hand over her mouth when Imelda gave her a scandalized look. "Oops! You weren't supposed to hear that!" She mumbled through her covered mouth as the rest of the family continued to gape at her while Héctor laughed out loud with another "That's my girl!", releasing a proud grito to the heavens and startling Pepita in the courtyard- who gave an annoyed hiss and flew off to find a quieter place to nap.

"You knew? You knew that she kept that piece all those years? And you never told us?!" Imelda breathed, still flabbergasted.

"Eh-heh heh heh." Rosita laughed nervously, twiddling her thumbs. "Like I said, you weren't supposed to hear that. Coco asked me to keep it a secret. I- like her- always believed that her papá didn't leave on purpose. And that if he could have come home, he would have. But Mamá Imelda never listened when we tried to tell her that. It hurt too much, I suppose." She looked down, unable to face either of her in-laws in the room, who were both gaping at her in silence- though with entirely different expressions on their faces. Imelda was shocked at her audacity and secretiveness all these years, and Héctor was shocked that someone in the family had actually figured out- and believed- the truth.

"You haven't changed at all, mí corazón." Héctor smiled. "Still as proud as ever. And stubborn as a burro." He teased with a beaming grin aimed directly at his wife, who would have blushed if it were possible. "No wonder you never let me explain until Miguel literally ran into us."

"I should have, though." Imelda frowned, guilt over her actions over the past eighty-plus years burning in her chest cavity. "I should have known that something went wrong when you didn't come home. The letters didn't stop gradually. It was all of a sudden and with no warning. That should've been the biggest sign that something was terribly wrong."

"It's all in the past, mí vida." Héctor smiled sadly. "I'm just glad that Coco still remembers me, and that she's telling my stories to the rest of our familia."

"I would have liked to have met this Chicharron." Victoria commented suddenly. "He seemed like he was a good friend."

Héctor smiled softly. "He was a good friend. My first friend over here on this side of the bridge. I'm sure you would have liked him, mí'ja, had you gotten to know him. You did meet, very briefly, when you first got here. He was the driver on the tour bus." He continued with a sly grin, his mind filled with memories of his friend who had helped him on countless occasions, and not just with attempts to cross the bridge, either. He'd helped to bind up Héctor's tibia when he'd broken it, using more of his stash of duct tape that he'd had for who knew how long. Silently, Héctor prayed that his friend would find peace, wherever he was, wherever the souls of the Forgotten ended up after they were claimed by the 'Final Death'.

"I'm glad Miguel got to meet him too-" Héctor smirked, thinking of his best friend and great-great grandson, and their journey together. "-before he passed on. It was because of Chich and Miguel that I really started to like playing music again. After the first few decades, I got sick of people saying that they liked Ernesto's 'originals' better than my songs. Pah!" He scoffed sourly, glaring at a random spot on the floor as if it were responsible for all his problems.

"So you didn't play music for half a century?" Óscar asked, speaking up for the first time. "But how? Music is in your blood, cuñado, in your very soul. It must have been almost painful to not play."

Héctor shrugged. "Well, I didn't play in public, but I would pluck out a random tune now and again, either on Chich's guitar or on that accordion that I used to use when I guided tours. Except for one. I always sang 'Remember Me'. Every night. And I knew, somehow, that Coco was singing right along with me. On especially clear nights, I could almost hear her little voice accompanying mine." He smiled sadly, looking fondly up at the ceiling as he imagined his little girl- how he remembered her.

That sparked a memory in the second-youngest skeleton in the room. "You used to be a tour guide?" Victoria breathed, then she gasped aloud when her abuelo smiled at her slightly sheepishly. "Of course! How could I have missed it?! It was you! You were the friendly muchacho who brought me to the Zapatería when I first arrived! I can't believe I forgot about that!" Then she chuckled. "You're even wearing the exact same clothes! They're looking quite shabby now, but it's the same outfit!"

Héctor laughed too, bashful. "Well, the sombrero is new- ish- but yeah, everything else is the same." He pulled at the hem of his chaqueta. "I've had these for about seventy-five years. It makes sense that they'd be a little- um- worn. Especially after all my harebrained schemes to get across that dumb flower bridge." He smiled at his beloved granddaughter, then crossed the room in three long strides and caught her up in the biggest hug he could manage without breaking any bones.

"I've wanted to do this since the moment I realized." Héctor breathed in a near-sob, nearly on the verge of tears as he finally got to embrace his granddaughter. "But I somehow knew that the family hated me for leaving the way I did, and I didn't want to hurt you any more than I already had. I did the same for Rosita and Julio when they got here- meaning I guided them home to the Zapatería- but I made sure to stay out of sight with Imelda, Óscar and Felipe. Couldn't have them recognizing me, now could I?" He asked facetiously and grinning slyly at his wife and cuñados, who all wore identical masks of guilt on their bony faces.

"Ay, Héctor." Imelda sighed in mock exasperation. "What are we going to do with you?" She asked rhetorically with a shake of her head. Then in a moment of inspiration, she slapped her kneecap- exactly like her husband had earlier- and remarked, "Before we do anything, you need some new clothes. No member of the Rivera family is going to walk around in rags! Or, Díos forbid, barefoot! That's it! ¡Sígueme, mí familia! We're making you a new pair of shoes right this minute!"

Needing no more prompting than that, the six Riveras who were shoemakers scrambled from their seats and disappeared into the adjoining workshop before one could say 'Zapatería', leaving Héctor blinking owlishly and sitting on the couch with his mouth slightly open.

When the patriarch of the Rivera family finally collected his thoughts enough to follow his relatives, what he saw nearly made his jaw drop right off his face. The workshop was a literal whirlwind of activity, with Riveras running here and there with different pieces of leather, foam shoe forms, nails and laces, all looking to Imelda for instruction. She was the woman with the plan, after all.

Héctor watched his family with a mild smirk on his face as they raced around like headless pollos, gradually transforming the various small pieces of leather into the best pair of shoes Héctor had ever owned. And he knew without a doubt that they would be the best. Imelda never stood for anything less than perfection, and demanded that her family- living and dead- abide by the same standards.

Eventually the shoes stopped at Óscar's station to be sanded, and his big sister fixed him with an expectant glare. "You be careful with those now, hermanito. I will not have them end up in the ceiling like so many of those other pairs of wasted shoes." She chided in a way that was half-teasing, but completely serious at the same time. Óscar nodded fervently, and made sure that his grip was extra firm as he sanded the edge of the shoes. Confused at his wife's words, Héctor cocked his head for a moment, then looked up to the ceiling above his younger cuñado. And had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle a bark of laughter when reality proved his Imelda's words all too true. The ceiling was peppered with all manner of shoes, boots, sandals and even chanclas that had slipped out of the skeleton's hands and became lodged between the boards of the workshop's ceiling.

Finishing with the right shoe and starting on the left, Óscar grinned sheepishly at Héctor, who was still giggling at the amusing sight of all the shoes in the ceiling. Somebody should try to get those down one of these days. Maybe I can do it one of these days, if Imelda lets me. He thought absently.

"Yeah, I've got butterfingers with this thing sometimes." The older skeleton explained as he returned his eyes to his work. "I'll never forget the first time it happened. It was when we were still alive. I was just sanding a pair of flip-flops for an order- and I was almost finished with the second one- when all of a sudden Pepita just waltzed into the workshop and jumped on my bench without warning. Naturally, she scared the pantalones off me, and I lost my concentration and my grip on the shoe. The Chancla went right into the ceiling, Pepita shot like a bala back into the house, then Imelda marched over and smacked me as hard as she could with the other shoe. Right in the face."

Both boys laughed at the matriarch's passion, then Héctor put a hand on his cuñado's shoulder. "I know how you feel, amigo. My first 'Chancla' was from Imelda, too. I won her over eventually, but she'd never cared much for music in the beginning. And I was stupid and crazy enough to serenade her as a way of asking her to go out with me. It was both the best and worst decision I'd ever made in my life. I may have gained a girlfriend and eventual wife that day, but I also lost a tooth. You're a lot stronger than you look, 'Poco Loco'." He beamed over at his wife- who might have blushed if it were possible- showcasing his gold tooth for the whole workshop to see.

"Oh stop it, you gran payaso." Imelda sniffed, folded her arms and looked away, but she was wearing a big grin on her face that ruined the effect of her actions slightly.

"You know you love me." Héctor teased, playfully elbowing her in the humerus and grinning wider when she elbowed him right back.

"Do I know that?" Imelda pretended to think, tapping her chin with a forefinger. "Yes. Yes, I do." Her smile faded slightly, then she continued in a small voice, "I never stopped. Not once. That's why it hurt so much. Ay, I was such a fool. I wanted to forget you, because it hurt too much to remember you. I wanted Coco to forget you too, but- we never could. Coco could never forget her papá, and I could never forget my one true love. The músico loco, Héctor Rivera."

"You got that right!" Héctor laughed, picking up his beloved wife and spinning her around before squeezing her to his chest in a big hug. "And you make me loco, with your love. Why do you think I wrote that song for you? If I'm loco, then you have to be too, because you married this músico loco!" He laughed, spinning around again and making Imelda echo his infectious laughter.

By this time, Óscar had finished sanding Héctor's new shoes, and had gone to stand by his twin near the workshop door. Leaning over to his brother, one twin asked, "How long has it been since we've seen her this happy, hermano?"

"Almost a century, hermano." answered the other twin, a mirror of his brother's smirk on his thin face. "Ever since Héctor was in her life, she was as happy as anyone could be. And now that he's finally back with us, she's found that happiness again."

"Now all we're missing is Coco, and it'll be like the past ninety-six years never even happened." The first twin commented. Then he added, "I mean, I don't want her to die, but- I think everyone knows that her time's drawing near. She's got to be a hundred years old by now. That's a very long life. Not many here can claim they lived to be a century old."

"I just hope it's peaceful. When it does happen." A small voice sounded from somewhere behind them, and the brothers turned to see their cuñado standing there, eyes downcast and Imelda at his side, gently holding his arm. "Peaceful and quiet, surrounded by family. That's every person's wish when Dama Muerte comes to take them to their next adventure. But obviously it doesn't happen for everyone. But I hope it does happen that way. If anyone deserves it that way, it's our Coco."

At that moment, Pepita picked up her head from where she had been sunning herself in the courtyard, alerted by a sound that could only be heard by alebrijes. And it was one that the experienced jaguar-hybrid had heard many times in her long afterlife:

The sound of a new arrival in the Land of the Dead.

"What is it, Pepita?" The Rivera family matriarch asked of her spirit guide, and the gigantic feline laid flat on her stomach so that her favorite human could climb onto her back. When Imelda was safely seated between her shoulder-blades, the multicolored jaguar turned to her human's mate and flicked her large head, signaling for him to get on as well. Héctor was shocked, but hid it well as he clambered onto the large cat's back behind his wife. Then the alebrije and her two passengers took off into the setting sun toward the river that separated the two worlds.

-At the Department of Family Reunions-

"Welcome to the Land of the Dead, Señora!" A bubbly agent beamed as a white-haired skeleton stepped off the glistening cempasúchil bridge and through a doorway marked 'New Arrivals'. "We're so delighted to meet you! Could you tell us your name, so that we can contact any family members you may have over here?"

The woman nodded, giving her name to the friendly and significantly younger skeleton that greeted her. The younger woman nodded and activated her radio, paging one of her coworkers to make an announcement over the PA system.

A sudden rush of air made the aged skeleton woman look up, and the sight before her eyes made her gasp, even though she no longer possessed lungs. A giant, winged jaguar with the horns of a ram, the hind legs of an eagle and the tail of a lizard soared over her head, and the woman noticed that one of its passengers was wearing a hauntingly familiar purple dress. She didn't immediately recognize the second rider, but she noticed that he was very tall and wore a straw sombrero, blue coat with only one sleeve, brown pants and chocolate-brown shoes.

The enormous animal landed gracefully on the stones of the ancient temple that had been converted to something resembling a station of some kind, and angled one of its wings to the ground so its passengers could disembark safely. Upon seeing the couple, the woman gasped aloud again, immediately recognizing the woman in the purple dress. It was her mother and matriarch of the family, Imelda Rivera.

Another gasp of utter shock and indescribable wonder escaped the woman's mouth when her eyes left the skeletal form of her mother and shifted to the man that had accompanied her. Standing next to his wife- and looking as though he'd belonged there all along- was a man that Socorro thought that she would never see again, but that she'd hoped to see her whole life.

"Papá?" She breathed as her jaw fell open and nearly dropped right off her face.

The man looked up at the sound of the familial title, then experienced a jaw-dropping moment of his own as his mandible mirrored that of his daughter's. Throwing all caution to the wind and ignoring every other thing in the enormous station, Héctor Rivera ran faster than he ever had in his life and death toward the old woman standing there in sandals, a coral shawl and a nightdress- a single word on his lips as his mouth opened into the widest, beaming smile that anyone present had ever seen- and he cried out that word at the top of his voice for all the world to hear, the word he'd been waiting to use again for nearly one hundred years:

"COCO!"


End of Chapter 3

Wow. I had happy tears in my eyes when I wrote this chapter. The whole thing. Yes, I'm a sap. Deal with it. XD It's just so cute!

I should think it's pretty obvious, since this is a fanfiction, but all of the ideas and concepts in this story are just from my own crazy noggin. And I don't own anything you recognize. So please don't sue a poor author like me! Eep!

In my defense, all of this sounds like it could have happened in the movie or afterwards, right? (or before the movie, in the case of the flashback scenes) I didn't make it too weird? I would greatly appreciate your feedback on this! *wink wink*

And I know this isn't clear in the chapter, but I think Coco was born on May 1st, 1917. And her death was the same day, exactly 100 years later. Yes, in my story, she died on her birthday. The same as her papá. Awww! I think that's really poetic.

On that note, I also think that Socorro (Miguel's sister) was born on Mama Coco's birthday, so the Rivera family still has a 'Coco' with the same birthday. ¡Feliz Cumpleaños, mí'jas!

Translations (for those [like me] who need them):

Abril - April

Alebrije - spirit creature guides, usually appear as multicolored chimeras

Perro - dog

Miguelito - little Miguel

Ofrenda - family shrine assembled on Día de los Muertos

Hermana - sister

Abuelo - grandfather

Hermanita - little sister (in this case, sister-in-law, but Rosita saw Coco as her sister)

Día de (los) Muertos - Day of the Dead, Méxican holiday on November 1st

Cenote - well/sinkhole

Zapatería - shoemaker business

Gato - cat

Azúcar - sugar

Siesta - nap

Mí amor - my love

Loco - crazy

Ciudad - city

Mí'ja - short for Mí híja - my daughter (granddaughter in this case)

Seguridad - security

Ay - Oh

Díos mio - my God

Fóto - photo

Grito - shout/yell

Mí corazón - my heart

Burro - donkey

Mí vida - my life

Familia - family

Cuñado - brother-in-law

Muchacho - young man

Sombrero - wide-brimmed hat

Sígueme - follow me

Pollos - chickens

Hermanito - little brother

Chanclas - flip-flops (Also the deadliest weapon in México. XD)

Pantalones - pants

Bala - bullet

Poco Loco - little crazy (Also one of Héctor's famous songs, written while dating Imelda)

Gran payaso - big clown

Músico loco - crazy musician

Hermano - brother

Dama Muerte - Lady Death

Cempasúchil - marigold

Señora - madam/lady (used for a married woman or woman of importance)

Feliz Cumpleaños - Happy Birthday

¡Hasta la vista, mis amigos!

God Bless!

Tsunami Storm