by Opal Edgar
“There’s as many ways to evolve as there are people in the afterlife, so even if it’s almost always the same steps for everybody we all have our personal way to go through them, and our path can be as long as we need. The current mission based method is just what the spirit council has had in place for the last 2000 years or so. It took time, there was a lot of tweaking and mistakes, the whole Roman empire got caught in the crossfire and the Dark ages were full of failures, but there was much more chaos before then.” she said.
Alpheus nodded emphatically. As if he’d been there. Had he been there?
“Now it’s more linear. You die. You’re a SHADOW. You get given a new body by the spirits so you don’t try stealing live people’s ones. At that stage you’re an UNDEAD. So you learn to do without a body and you become a MONSTER. And then all you have to do is reach enlightenment. And, bam, you’re a SPIRIT!” Kemsit continued.
“What’s enlightenment?”
“How would I know? I’m a monster, aren't I!” Kemsit said, rolling her eyes.
“’Tis my belief that it happens when your mind is attuned to your soul. Basically, when body, mind and soul merge you become the best and most powerful version of yourself,” Elise added, unhelpfully.
“So all of you have missions too?” I asked.
They nodded, except for Baas who mumbled something unintelligible.
“I have to get the full Egyptian pantheon together.” Kemsit grimaced.
“I have to finish this world,” Elise said.
I blinked for a second, letting the words sink in. Wasn’t the Egyptian pantheon crazy big and at war? And Elise had to create a whole world? And I was complaining about finding a sword!
“But power thieves don’t go through all that—” I started.
“Too much work for them, lazy butts,” Kemsit growled, wrinkling her nose. “No missions for them, they prefer to steal other people’s hard work.”
I was going to ask more questions, but Elise got us back on track.
“Kemsit, Alpheus and I are all monsters. You already know quite a lot about me. You’ve met my father, my shame; you conversed with my soul, my essence; and you saw my true appearance in the shadow corridor, how I perished,” Elise said.
“I did?” I wondered out loud, remembering her dripping hair and nightdress.
“I was drowned in 1641 in the New World.” She smiled.
“People drowned you?” I exclaimed, horrified.
She nodded. What was wrong with people back then? And then I remembered that not so long ago, during the war, my very father hadn’t done any better at all. I looked down. I knew exactly what shame was.
“’Tis still my biggest fear. I stood paralysed as you fell in the ocean,” she whispered. “I was accused of witchcraft because I never went to church in the settlement. I’m Jewish, you see.”
My head wavered. Black juice ran over my wrists and I let go of the berry mush I was holding. I couldn’t remember crushing them like that. How could I think I had a place here? How could I face these people with what I carried on my shoulders?
“You don’t want to help me. You really don’t,” I said. “I don’t deserve it.”
I pushed my seat backwards and got up. I took a step away from the table, but Elise grabbed my arm.
“You have no reason to be scared,” she said. “We all have our own story.”
Oh, how badly she was mistaken. Shame burned my skin where her fingers pressed through my shirt. I could feel a red flush rising from my neck to my hairline. I needed out. But instead she waved towards Alpheus with her other arm. He looked down at his slate, hesitating. Slowly he drew it up. The words: “Tell him,” appeared on it.
“Alpheus’s village was destroyed by the Romans when he was ten. The men were killed, the women and girls sold into slavery and male children thrown in the gladiator pen … he survived. He became a famous fighter – until they released the lions on him and gave him no weapon. He was just 17.”
“My turn, my turn! You’re hogging the whole show! Everyone can guess how that ended,” Kemsit called out, punching Alpheus with her tiny little fist.
A muffled laugh erupted from within his helmet. I didn’t say anything. I simply couldn’t. I was rooted to the spot as surely as if a ton of bricks had fallen on my head.
“My story is about tragic betrayals and priestess and love and gods and—” started Kemsit.
“And change of faith, snake bites and a very fatal Khopesh to the head,” finished Baas for her. “She was murdered, like the rest of us, for being different. I was a slave. To take Kemsit’s expression: you can guess how that ended—”
He was going to add something else, but Elise got up.
“You simplify things, Sir Baas,” Elise cut in, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You died because you tried to save me.”
“Does it matter? We were all victims of our time’s prejudice.”
I got up too. This time even Elise couldn’t stop me. My chair tumbled to the ground.
“I’m sorry, you got the wrong zombie,” I said. “I’m not a victim, I’m the opposite of a victim.”
Baas’s lip quirked up and his eyebrows rose, as if I’d finally done something interesting. He grabbed hold of Elise’s hand, cupping it over the newspaper, to stop her from grabbing for me again.
“I’m the only one in this room who keeps up with the living world,” he said. “Perhaps you have some kind of confession to make about the state of affairs in Germany. I’m sure your philosophy will greatly interest my friends ... should you choose to explain it to them.”
His smile had gone positively predatorial. If I hadn’t said something, he would have, that much was clear. But I didn’t have the courage to explain. All I wanted was to disappear. He could tell them whatever the hell he chose.
“I shouldn’t be here.” I heaved. “I’m sorry.”
Air burned my lungs, even if I didn’t have to breathe. My chest was compressed as if tightened by ropes. My head felt light, fog sat on everything, invading. I needed out. My feet pried themselves away from the molasses they were glued in.
I was an imposter.
A place for me, here? Time for getting redemption for my lineage? Who did I think I was?
My legs carried me to the door, and somehow my hands worked the doorknob. I was out. But not far enough. Sunlight basked my skin softly and I felt like flicking it away. I didn’t deserve any of this. No sunlight, no juicy berries and no friends … I fled.
Chapter 9
Making Your Own Path
The clearing was replaced with forest, each footstep eating away the light. The moss covered ground was swallowed by thick intertwining thorns. I didn’t stop. The canopy of the trees grew denser. Soon I was in the dark, with brambles and thistles tugging at my ankles.
I stopped by the stump of a rotten tree. My suit jacket had dried, but it held me too tight, too stiffly. My fingers ripped at it, prying the sides away from my ribs, tearing the sleeves inside out and off my shoulders. Only shreds remained by the time they passed my wrists. I threw the jacket to the ground. Anger welled in my stomach, burning and bright. How could I have thought this was going to work out just fine? Why would I deserve that!
The one useful thing I had learnt was that if I did nothing, if I didn’t feed this body, I would disappear. Not acting was synonymous with not existing. And my whatever-this-was felt so pointless right now.
I had done nothing to counterbalance my father’s deeds.
I had no idea what I could do.
But I wasn’t doing it. Instead of becoming a purposeful member of society, instead of doing any good, I was a burden again. I had let people care for me, help me and waste their time with me! Those people who had had tragic lives, people who really deserved good things to happen to them, felt like they had to be MY crutches.
It was so wrong.
There were many people who deserved their help more than I did. I sank to the ground. The earth almost felt warm. Above w
asn’t a single patch of sky. Maybe I could just lie down … and sleep.
My eyelids flew open. I wasn’t the only person in my body.
There was this leech of a Merlin somewhere inside me, with his arrogant voice. Or maybe I was the leech. I didn’t know anymore. I’d never even met the guy. And now he was trapped by a curse inside of me. Sure it was a nice holiday, but that didn’t make it right. Maybe he had a purpose. We needed to solve our differences. I’m sure we could find a solution to this one body for two people problem. Though, we did need to lift that curse first, and figure out why power thieves wanted to eat us—
“Sir Tosho, please don’t leave like this,” Elise said.
I whisked round. Just three metres away, half hidden behind a tree, her amazing deep-ocean-pools-to-drown-in eyes sucked me in.
“It was a mistake, Elise. You don’t want me. I’m not like you, any of you, I don’t deserve help.”
“I see the pain at the back of your eyes. ’Twas wrong of me to urge you to talk when you were not ready. ’Twas too sudden, I’m sorry, Sir Tosho. I—”
“Don’t! You’re all wonderful. You don’t get what I’m saying. My father was the kind of person that hurt all of you. He wasn’t just a soldier in in the war, he was a Nazi: not the mass kind recruited by force, he was part of a special unit. You know what that means? That means he was responsible for hundreds, no, thousands of people’s deaths, maybe even more, I have no blasted idea. He killed people like you, all of you, the different and the ones who couldn’t defend themselves, even kids. Mostly Jewish kids, like you, or even sometimes black kids like Baas. Isn’t that ironic? He conspired on the experimentations on gypsy kids. And I have his blood in my veins … and … I don’t have a place within your group. I don’t need defending. I’M THE BAD GUY, that I want it or not. I was born out of an Aryan program. Literally. They choose my mum because she was tall and blond and strong and they said: breed! I was born evil.”
I stopped to take a breath. And hide my eyes. Something between pity and horror shone in Elise’s gaze. It burned.
“Sir Tosho, the shadow corridor doesn’t lie. You saw my shadow, cold and scared. ’Tis the way the villagers ripped me out of my bed, put me through the witchcraft trial and sank me in the pond. ’Tis how I know you were beaten to death. There is no hierarchy of suffering. You already got your share. Let it stop.”
“Maybe I deserved it,” I said.
Elise pulled away from the tree trunk. Her shadow walked towards me, just visible under my arm. She didn’t come too close, as if I was some wild animal that needed careful taming. Or maybe like I was some ugly predator, like a moray eel mask-person.
“I’ve seen a picture of my father, Elise, hidden behind my mum’s drawers. And you know what? We look the same, the exact freaking same, he and I.”
Elise stayed silent. I was disgusting. I dropped my arm away from my face. She averted her eyes. I knew that feeling, that’s what I did when I walked by a mirror.
“I’m like the contrary of different,” I concluded. “Does that even make sense? I’m the idiot sheep that jumps over the cliff if the other ones in front do it. Maybe I’m the person that could have hurt all of you.”
Elise got a little bottle out of her pocket. She crouched down slowly. The bottle looked like black glass, but, when she rolled it on the leaves, a clear bubble appeared against the upper surface. It hit my foot with a soft ‘dink’. This felt so strongly like goodbye that my stomach knotted.
“’Tis from the mask that attacked you. It fell from her cape pocket. It might tell you who she was and why she targeted you, Sir Tosho.”
I picked the little bottle up. It looked like it contained dark wine, or something thicker, like old ink.
“What is it?”
Elise still avoided looking at me. She realised her mistake now. She knew she shouldn’t have followed me, invited me, laughed with me ...
“’Tis beyond my knowledge.” She bit her blood-red lips and added, “I would ask the Oracle. ’Tis all roads that lead to the Oracle, at the end of the shadow corridor.”
“How do I go back there?”
“The spirits made your body from the shadow corridor, it naturally wants to go back, all you have to do is think about it,” she said.
“Thanks for helping me again. You didn’t have to.”
She looked up. The tip of her cute nose was red and her eyes humid.
“Bye, Elise. I’m sorry I wasn’t who you thought.”
I closed my eyes and forgot about the pretty girl behind the tree, and my body, and the forest, and the cottage made of flowers and sticks and friends.
Chapter 10
Running Away
I skidded over a pile of books and surfed on a cover for a whole terrifying 100 metres. Heart pounding, I stared at the crowd of dead about to cushion my fall. A frightful man-bear tackled me before I crashed into a frail old lady at the centre of the commotion. He wore bruises like some people display medals. His drooling snout snapped viciously and clawed hands grabbed me.
I lifted my hands in a universal peace gesture. The bear recoiled. My hands were awful! They were scraped bad. Whoever had killed me had done a nasty number on me. I was so glad I couldn’t see my face.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone: I just landed on a book.”
I kicked it away.
“I’ll let it go, this time, ’cause I’m so happy to meet my great-granddaughter, but be careful dead’un. I’m watching ya!”
He didn’t sound as if he meant it. He grabbed the granny, who looked at least three times his age, by the shoulders and turned back into his family reunion.
The shadow corridor was still overcrowded with ugly junk. It was harder than ever to move because of the people agglomerated in the narrow space. I didn’t linger. I pushed past the growing crowd, in increasingly ancient costumes, and straightened my jacket.
My jacket?
What the hell was this? Where had it come from, I’d ripped it to shreds moments ago.
Maybe that was part of the corridor’s power. Elise had said my body was made out of it. Each time I came here, would my suit grow back on? I stumbled over a pair of skis. This wasn’t the moment to care about minor things like that. I didn’t have the luxury to feel surprised anymore. I had to make sure I was going in the right direction.
Craning up on my toes, to see over a wooden cart that blocked the way, I saw a scattering of more people ahead. Someone might know which way the Oracle was. I carefully clambered over the arms of the cart. This was surprisingly dangerous with my suit trousers. They weren’t exactly made for this kind of exercise. I couldn’t lift my knees high enough and, when I forced the fabric, it threatened to rip right between my legs.
Why wasn’t I in the overlarge shirt I’d died in? Didn’t this corridor show the way I died? Why did I get a burial suit?
I toppled over the second arm of the cart, banged my head on the footrest and caught my shirt in some splinters. But it’s not as if I could die again. I needed to ask for directions.
Now, who was I going to pick? The man with the elephant body, or the three little creatures attached to his elbows? Or, better, the lady with her head under her arm. I shuddered. I felt conservative with my normal body and walked to the ordinary couple behind the scary crowd. They were in their late 30s and surprisingly free of contusions or animal parts.
Something smelt awful, though. I discreetly sniffed my arm, just to make sure. The smell was so pervasive, I couldn’t tell if it was me or not. I covered my nose, amazed the couple weren’t concerned. What was it? Rotten cabbage? By the time I lifted my eyes back to them, they had started arguing.
“I don’t want to live in the fiery mountains of doom!” the woman said. “Don’t get me wrong, the dragon dance is beautiful. I enjoyed our honeymoon – the rock spittle was romantic, sure. But once you cross the lava lake and see the rise of the smog creatures, well, there’s nothing more to do. How about the sparkle fairyland? Now that’s a
place I never get tired of!”
I had really chosen the wrong moment. Shuffling, I stood at their side but they didn’t notice. He smacked his face and gagged. This was awkward.
“Fairyland? Are you serious, woman? With the goddess cult fanatics and that revolting hydromel piss-puck they force down your throat all day? What’s wrong with you!”
I took three heavy steps where I stood. Both snapped their necks round and their faces were painted with the exact same annoyed look.
“I’m new,” I said. “Sorry to disturb, would you have any idea where I can find the Oracle?”
Their annoyance fled to be replaced with something I didn’t like any better: worry.
“Whatever problem you have, it’s not worth it,” the man said.
The woman nodded profusely. “You can work it out.”
“What?”
The man lowered to his wife’s ear and whispered something. I couldn’t believe grown adults were doing that. She nodded before baking away, holding tight onto her husband’s forearm. I was glad I’d reminded them they shared some beliefs, like, for example, one about not talking to strangers who want to see the Oracle. Maybe I’d saved their marriage.
“Don’t do it,” she whispered.
They kept backing away, not taking their eyes off me, as if I was a rabid dog ready to chase, bite and drool all over them. When they thought they were far enough, they ran. And I still had no idea where to go.
“People say if you want to go back to life you walk towards the light, you ever heard that?” a little high-pitched voice asked.
I almost jumped out of my skin.
“Kemsit!” I exclaimed.
What was she doing here?
“Well, if you want to go to the Oracle, you walk towards darkness, dumb-dumb.”
I turned round to spot her, but she wasn’t anywhere. I crouched down, after all, she had a thing for the underpart of sofas … but she wasn’t under those ones. I peeked behind the curtains of a large canopy bed. Nothing. I looked up (who knew, right?) but she wasn’t hanging upside down from the ceiling either. Her laughter exploded round the corridor, not giving any clue to where she could be.