Expiration Date: a Short Story Collection

By Bert Whirl

Death.  It comes for us all.  That's this life's guarantee.

 

The questions are always how, why, and when.  What happens afterwards, either for those who passed or those who remain?  Or does anything happen? This collection of stories explores those questions.  

 

Every job has that one task no one enjoys doing.  A prison guard faces one of those tasks. How does a young guard deal with his first firing squad duty?  

 

A man buys a building, hoping to create an empire.  In his walk through, he encounters residents that the state said weren't there.  What does a person's presence do to their environment?  

 

When a person dies, they're done, right? Imagine if choices waited for the person who had died.  

 

When you read these stories, you'll explore some potential answers to these questions and more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Tree Publishing
• Release date: Jul 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223583080

Bert Whirl

Bert Whirl was born in Southern Maryland.  He is married to a wonderful wife and works as the servant to three feline overlords. He has not touched AI to create his works. He's enjoyed enough science fiction to hope for Data but fears we'll get Skynet, Sentinels, and VIKI.

Book preview

Visiting Rebecca

Juan stood on the dirt path near the curb, holding a single yellow rose.  His thoughts rehearsed what he would say as he gazed along the path and past the iron fence. 

His fingers rolled the flower in his hand, which drew his gaze down to follow the petals.  He sniffed and drew his sleeve across his nose.  He’d brought a bouquet of these to Rebecca’s house their last night together.  Their three-month anniversary.

For those three months, she had insisted they meet anywhere but her house, but felt after this long, this visit might prove safe.  Her dad had tried to chase him off.  Rebecca snuck out to see Juan, anyway.  They had gone to an empty parking lot to talk, not expecting that to be their last night together.  They’d spoken of hopes and plans over the weeks they’d been seeing each other.  Even on that night.

A stupid drunk driver jumped the curb and changed everything. 

Rebecca danced into his mind’s eye.  Her round face with the room-brightening smile always melted his heart.  He’d forget what he wanted to say when she gazed at him.  Her being held so much beyond her face, though.  She loved to twirl and dance, especially in her sun dresses. She’d worn a light yellow dress with darker yellow roses for their last date.  And she’d sworn the color and flower were her favorites. 

Her family had created a small memorial dedicated to her in their side yard.  Juan had helped plant a yellow rosebush in her memory.  But Rebecca’s father had refused to help while Juan had remained.

In his head, her image twirled back.  She stood on her front porch, wearing that same yellow sundress with the roses stenciled throughout the fabric.  It was modest by sundress standards, reaching to mid shin and covering her arms to mid biceps.  It hung on her with a perfect silhouette, not too tight but not too loose. 

Juan drew a deep breath and released it as a long sigh through his nose.

On mild days, she’d wear this faint rosy perfume.  He always loved her scent–that rare rose aroma she had found in a small boutique downtown.  It took Juan a week to find where she’d bought it so he could give her the gift.

He’d brought a box with him on his last visit.  However, Rebecca’s family had arrived before him, and her dad wouldn’t let him approach, wouldn’t let him leave anything for her.  Juan had to smuggle his gift to her through Rebecca’s sister.  Juan swore after that to always make his visits when he knew her family wouldn’t also be visiting. 

Thoughts of Rebecca pulled his feet along the path.

After four steps, Juan stopped.  He stared at the iron gate.  His hand reached for the barrier, but it hovered over the cold metal.  No matter how much he practiced, he didn’t feel ready.  No matter how often he visited, it always hurt to see her.  These struggles never appeared when he visited his grandparents.  Pivoted on his heels, he walked back to the street.  As he reached the curb, Juan stopped, wiped away his tears, and drew a deep breath.  People expected him to visit her, no matter if his own emotions were ready. 

Juan fought his own reluctance, turned himself around, and hauled himself back to the iron gate.  His gaze followed the path beyond the gate.  They’d added solar path lights since his last visit to his grandparents.  Others sat on benches near loved ones, talking and crying.  He understood.  If he got past this visit, he knew he could continue to come see her.

Pushing on the gate, Juan stepped through the fence opening and followed the path.  The path traveled through a quiet gathering of memorials and floral arrangements.  He neared his desired section and saw he didn’t visit alone.  He walked around a corner and saw Rebecca’s little sister, Jennifer, standing beside the path and holding a dozen yellow roses.  Her body shook as she soaked the flowers with her tears.  While Juan wanted to stay back from her, he also knew she needed a shoulder as much as he did. 

Jennifer pulled her gazed over to Juan when he approached.  She had a younger version of Rebecca’s face, but with puffy and bloodshot eyes.  They’d been close.  He walked to her side, and she leaned against him.  Placing his arm around her shoulders, Juan offered what comfort he could, though he didn’t find the same comfort within himself. 

They stood there, each crying but lost in their own thoughts for five minutes.  Jennifer pulled back and wiped a gloved hand across her cheeks, smearing the already running make-up.  She attempted a weak smile, and Juan returned the effort.  Grief, even after months, killed smiles as one worked through it.  Juan realized that all he’d rehearsed made no difference.  He didn’t need to say anything.

Juan held out his arm, hoping that Jennifer might take his