Free The White Oak by Kim White

ship, but the sailors escort him down the gangplank. He digs in his heels when he gets to the end of the ramp, but the sailors push him off without even asking about the coin. As his mortal body begins to shiver and melt away, the sailors pull up the gangplank and leave him to his fate without looking back. The man is screaming, resisting the transformation without success. As the winds from Asphodel blow in, he catches my eye and moves toward me. I can feel the cold heat he emanates as the winds engulf him, but unlike the other flames, he is not carried off.
    “Step away from him,” Minotaur instructs. “You are confusing the winds.”
    I stand firm and say nothing, but I take the flame’s hand and liberate him from purgatory.
    “You aren’t doing him any favors,” Minotaur grumbles.
    “Leave me alone,” I say, walking toward the ferry and dragging the specter along with me. “I robbed one man of his destiny, but I can free another.”
    Minotaur senses my distress and tries to reason with me “That shade who gave us the coin is better off in limbo. He killed his wife, you know—drunken driving accident. They give killers, even accidental ones, a bad deal in the City.”
    I say nothing, marching forward, ashamed of what I’ve done.
    “Trust me,” Minotaur says. “He’s better off here.”
    But I don’t trust him. I’m not even sure I trust Sybil, who designed this deception and put us both up to it. Taking my place at the end of the long line of souls waiting to board the ferry, I’m quickly overcome with despair. I want to turn around and run across the plains, try to swim up the murderous river that brought me here, and somehow dig my way through the earth’s crust to get home. But I know that’s impossible, and who would be waiting for me there? I have to find Lucas. I don’t have any choice but to go forward.



Getting Past the Ferryman
    As we stand in line for the ferry, Minotaur gives me the same instructions that Sybil did. “Don’t look the ferryman or the boatswain in the eye, and do not let them touch you,” he says, stressing the danger I’m in. “Try not to get too close to them. We don’t want them to find out you’re alive. If you get in real trouble, call the ferryman by his given name.”
    I don’t respond. I’m still angry with Minotaur, and with myself, for our deception. The specter I rescued is clinging to my ankles, keeping low to the ground so the boatswain won’t see him. His cold touch sends a chill through my feet, and his aura of hopelessness seeps into me as I shuffle forward. I could shake him off, but having him near makes me feel a bit less guilty about the soul I swindled.
    “Sybil told you his name, didn’t she?” Minotaur says—he has taken on the persona of a girl my age, hoping to make a friendship with me. I nod in answer to the question, but ignore the persona; I’m more interested in the souls in line with me, all of them colorless and slightly transparent. The man behind me cranes his neck to try to see what’s happening at the front of the line. There is no way to see that far ahead, but he tries anyway, sighing impatiently and shifting his weight from foot to foot. The woman ahead of me tries with little success to soothe her crying baby. The man scowls at her and mumbles something about inconsiderate people who travel with babies. Ahead of her are three old women in black; I can’t tell if they are Catholic nuns in habits, or Muslim women in burkas. When one of them turns back to help the woman with her baby, I see that they are neither. The old woman takes the baby in her arms, and it quiets immediately. The mother sighs with relief and thanks the old woman over and over.
    Hours go by—my feet and back are aching from standing so long, and I’m getting hungry again. Minotaur finally gives up on trying to talk to me and hovers silently next to my shoulder. I am almost at the front of the line now. I can see the ferryman and the boatswain