[ WP ] You live in a world where suicide is illegal . There is a division of law enforcement that travels to the afterlife to catch people that committed suicide and then bring them back to serve time in prison . You just killed yourself and someone is chasing you , but it 's not the cops .

The process is pretty simple and straightforward. The body is recovered, sometimes by force. The body is transported to the River facility where a worker straps the body into the Machine and the recovery stage begins. 
 
 The recovery stage requires two participants: someone who recently committed suicide, and the River worker going after them ( often called a Wraith ). The Wraith gets into the Machine next to the cadaver and the process begins. It doesn ’ t look like much from the outside; either participant ’ s body is likely to twitch a bit during the process, but for a majority of the recovery stage both look like they ’ re simply sleeping. 
 
 There I was, laid out on the left. I had on the standard procedure clothing: a plain white shirt worn with a pair of plain white shorts. 
 
 I ’ d been strapped into the Machine hundreds of times before. When the facility was commissioned as a subdivision of the local police force, I had been reassigned to head up operations. The city had seen an exponential rise in suicide rates, and it was my responsibility to make sure that no one escaped the reaches of the law, not even in death. We couldn ’ t bring everyone back; if they had done too much damage to their bodies for the River biologists to synthesize and repair ( i.e. the person had flung themselves off of a building ), then there was nothing we could do. Due to more strict regulation, jumpers were thankfully occurring far less often. 
 
 I should have known. You would think that after 9 years of doing this, I could have been smart about it. To be fair, I had tried; calculated the bullet trajectory, maximized damage area and everything. Guess I just hadn ’ t been thorough enough. 
 
 I will just say that this job takes a toll after you ’ ve done it long enough. 
 
 So there I was, laid out on the wrong side of the Machine, a Wraith strapped in opposite me in all black attire. Their eyelids fluttered rapidly and each of their fingers flexed independently. Me? I was deathly torpid, perfectly still, my reconstructed face perfectly calm and more beautiful than Narcissus thanks to the River biologists. 
 
 Deep inside my mind, however, things were very different. 
 
 It was completely dark, and I was running as fast as I could. Despite only being able to see a short distance in any direction, every now and then I would glance backwards, daring to search for the Wraith that I knew was in pursuit. I jumped over some rubble that lay in my path. Far off in the distance, a small light shone, like a dim star struggling to stay lit. I knew that I had to get over there the Wraith caught up. The path began to wind, taking sharp curves that often led away from the star in the distance. I could hear footsteps on the path behind me. Growing impatient with the meandering path, I darted off the path into an inky patch of underbrush. Pushing through it, I was now running past obsidian trees, their canopies obscuring my view of the light I was using as a beacon. I could hear the Wraith struggling through my mental foliage, crashing through the bushes. 
 
 Heartbeat racing, I sped as fast as I could through the trees. It felt like I was running uphill, and although there were clear indications of my progression up the landscape, it felt like I was getting no closer to the light. I sprinted as hard as I could for a minute before spinning around and diving behind a tree. I lay prone, as silent as possible, listening as hard as I could for the sound of my pursuer. A lone howl resonated from some far off location, lending another nightmarish element to my postmortem mental horrorscape. I was far less worried by the manifestation of my mind howling off in the distance than I was with the person currently determined to haul me back to the otherside so I could serve a cruel and unusual sentence in Federal Pri- 
 
 I could hear something moving through the grass. Footsteps moved closer and closer to my position. I held my breath, holding out on the hope that they wouldn ’ t find me. 
 
 “ Get up. ” 
 
 I stifled a gasp, my eyes wide; the voice had come from behind me. 
 
 I didn ’ t move. 
 
 “ I said, *get up. * ” I felt a pair of hands grab me from behind. I let loose a war cry, lashing out at my attacker and thrashing with all my energy. The person lifted me off the ground and slammed me up against a tree. My face was smashed against the cold wood, making it difficult to even see my assailant. I felt my arms being bound behind my back; after a moment, fingers grabbed ahold of my hair, slowly my head. I could just see over my shoulder, greeted by a dark hooded figure. 
 
 “ What ’ s the matter? Can ’ t show the Director your face? ” I tried to struggle against the figure, but was met with no success. 
 
 The figure said nothing; rather, they reached up and swept back their hood, revealing their face. 
 
 Once again, I stifled a gasp. 
 
 Staring at me through the thick darkness, was my own face. 
 
 “ What the- “ My inquiry was cut short as my doppelgänger shoved my head back up against the tree. I felt them draw much closer to me, close enough to feel my own breath on the back of my neck. 
 
 “ You ’ re going *back*. ” The whispery statement of finality slithered it ’ s way into my ear. 
 
 “ No, I ’ m leaving- “ My head was once again shoved against the tree. 
 
 “ *We ’ re going back. * ” 
 
 “ Who are you? ” 
 
 “ Who do you *think* I am? ” 
 
 “ Why don ’ t you help me? ” 
 
 “ I *am* helping you. ” My double spun me around and stared me hard in the face. “ And I can ’ t let you leave just yet. ” The doppelgänger lifted a syringe full of a dark, opaque liquid. 
 
 “ Don ’ t do this, *please*. ” My plea did nothing but spur the advancement of the needle. I felt its sting on the side of my neck, breathing heavy as the serum was slowly secreted into my body. 
 
 My Wraith released its grip on me, stepping backward and letting me fall to the ground. My arms were still bound behind me, which did little to help comfort me as I felt my vision blur and my head pound. 
 
 Crouching down next to me, I heard the Wraith utter one more line before I lost consciousness. 
 
 * “ When you resurface, you ’ re going to have to act fast. ” * 
 
 
 
 My eyes flashed open. 
 Bright lights blinded me, accompanied by a rapid beeping that was almost deafening. My whole body ached, and after what seemed like forever, my eyes adjusted to the room. I slowly began to make out the scene around me. 
 
 I was back at the River facility. 
 
 I tried to turn my head, only to feel myself restricted by the Machine. Reaching up, I felt for the emergency release lever, grasping it and yanking down. The rig attached to my body fell away, and I sat forward from my reclined position. As I did so, the rapid beeping was replaced by a flat blaring alarm. 
 
 I turned and looked over at the Wraith who was still attached to the Machine. Their whole body was convulsing, writhing around, eyes rolling back into their head. I jumped up and rushed over to the individual, pulling their emergency release. Despite being released from the Machine, the Wraith continued to thrash about, their mouth wrenched open in a silent scream. 
 The previous blaring alarm turned into a low whining; a red light faded in and out with each oscillation of the siren. 
 
 The Wraith in front of me had slowed down to a simple twitching. 
 
 There was nothing I could do for them. Not having found me in my own subconscious, their mind would be lost forever. 
 
 I could hear yelling in the hallway, and my doppelgänger ’ s voice rang within my own head. 
 
 *You ’ re going to have to act fast. *
