AfterLife

by S. P. Cloward

  The blood pressure machine beeped. The nurse looked at the results and pressed some buttons to start the reading cycle over again. She pulled the thermometer out of his mouth, looked at it, then pushed through the curtains on the side opposite from where the Kleenex lady sat, and returned with a different thermometer. She placed a cover on it and stuck it in his ear. It beeped.

  “Still that low?” she mumbled to herself. “I’ll go get another and we’ll try again.”

  A moment later the nurse returned and shoved a new thermometer into Wes’s ear. While doing that she looked at the results on the blood pressure reader.

  “What is wrong with all our equipment? I tell you what, technology is never worth the cost. If I go by what this reader says, I would have to put you down as dead. Could you imagine?” the nurse asked, chuckling to herself. “I’ve seen some crazy things in this world, but I’m pretty sure that would put me in a fit.”

  She pulled the new thermometer out of Wes’s ear and looked at it. She looked at Wes and then back at the thermometer a second time. After a pause, she reached up and placed her hand on Wes’s forehead.

  “You wait right here, sugar,” she said as she walked out.

  Wes watched the nurse push through the pink curtains. He listened as she interrupted the doctor, who had moved to a patient hidden behind more pink curtains on the far side of the room. After some indecipherable whispers, the doctor pushed agitatedly through the curtains with the nurse following closely behind. He was short and his messy blond comb-over matched the bush of chest hair that was visible over the top of the V-neck in his scrubs. After performing the same tests the nurse had already administered, the doctor pulled his stethoscope into his ears and placed the chest piece above Wes’s heart.

  “Am I right or do you still think I don’t know how to do my job?”

  “No, no, you’re right. I’ve never seen this before. I can’t even begin to imagine what it means. I’ve got to make some phone calls.” The doctor exited, leaving the nurse behind to attempt to explain his findings.

  “Well Wes, honey, it appears you’re dead. Now, you just wait here and we’ll see if there’s anything we can give you for that.”

  Chuckling at her own joke, the nurse carefully closed the pink curtain behind her. Feeling a little disoriented at her words, Wes pulled the blood pressure cuff off his arm. This was ridiculous. What did she mean he was dead? How could he be dead? He was moving and conscious, wasn’t he? He began counting off his symptoms. Okay, he couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t speak, and his vision was fuzzy. Apparently he didn’t have a pulse or a temperature. There was no blood pressure or heartbeat. Still, he couldn’t be a walking dead person. Zombies didn’t exist. On the other hand, what if they did and he was one? His examination and the reactions of both the nurse and the doctor were beginning to convince him of the possibility. Well, one thing was certain: he had to get out of here. Wes peeked through the pink curtains and located an exit sign over a door on a wall around the corner. It was an emergency exit marked with a big, red warning sign: EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. No problem there, he thought. Wasn’t being dead an emergency? He ran for the exit and pushed his way outside, ignoring the warning bell that sounded behind him when he opened the doors. He moved quickly to put some distance between him and the clinic.

  The wind was blowing. Wes could see it fluttering the leaves in the trees and moving the litter on the streets. He wanted to feel it on his face, but the sensation wasn’t there. Passing strangers gave him funny looks as he wandered aimlessly through crowded intersections, and he thought it might be best to find a place off the street. He didn’t want to go home. If he was dead, then it was the place of his death; nobody wants to revisit the place where they died. He found a quiet spot in an empty alley and sat down to think as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Maybe Jez would call. The thought troubled him for some reason, hadn’t she promised to come over last night? What would he do if she did call? He couldn’t seem to talk.

  Suddenly, he remembered what was bothering him. He was almost positive that Jez had come the night before. He had a vague but definite memory of her slapping his face, but if it had happened, where had she gone? Why had she gone? She had to have seen the alcohol and pill bottle. Had she left him to die? The thought sickened him, and he pushed it away.

  “What are you doing back there?”

  Wes looked up to see two policemen approaching. The alley had grown dark. There was only a small amount of light coming from some windows in the surrounding buildings and a street lamp. The two officers stopped about 10 feet from where he was seated.

  “What are you doing here in the alley,” one of the policemen repeated.

  Wes stood up. He wanted to answer the officer’s question, but knew he couldn’t. He just wanted them to leave so he could sit in peace. However, that didn’t appear to be an option.

  “Why don’t you want to tell us what you’re doing back here,” the other officer asked. “You don’t look very good. You on something?”

  The policemen started moving closer to Wes, and he decided his best option was to make a run for it. As he maneuvered to run around them, one of the officers grabbed him, but Wes was no lightweight, and he struggled to get away. The policeman was no lightweight either, and he hung on as Wes thrashed about. When he noticed the other officer pulling out a pair of handcuffs, he turned and sank his teeth into the arm of the officer holding him. The officer yelled and pushed Wes down, knocking his cell phone out of his hand and onto the ground, where it broke apart. Wes rolled onto his stomach and pushed up, hoping to quickly get away. Then he heard a large thud come down on his shoulder. One of the officers had hit him. There was no pain, only restraint.

  Wes moved to get up again. The officer who was the recipient of Wes’s bite pushed him down on the ground and held him in place while the other officer twisted Wes’s arms behind him and roughly snapped the handcuffs in place. Wes still felt no pain. He didn’t need to catch his breath. He couldn’t even sense the pressure from the weight of the man on top of him. That was good, he thought, as he continued to push up off the pavement and shook the policeman off his body. He felt as if he had superhuman strength. The other policeman grabbed for him but only managed to grab the handcuff chain.

  Wes fought to escape. By now both policemen were holding him back by the handcuff chain. Abruptly, Wes lurched forward, almost falling to the ground. The policemen had let go of the chain. He turned around to see why and at the same time noticed his arms weren’t cuffed behind his back anymore. The two policemen were both staring at something on the ground. It was a hand.

  Wes looked at the hand for a moment before realizing it was his. He looked at the mutilated stump at the end of his left arm and then at his right hand with the handcuffs still fastened around the wrist. He wanted to pick the hand up but didn’t know what he’d do with it. He willed it to jump up and rejoin his arm, but it just lay there amid some trash in the alley and didn’t move. The policemen didn’t move. Wes turned and ran down the alley.

  Now that it was dark it was easier to avoid the looks of disgust and fear on the faces of passing pedestrians. He should have paid more attention in his philosophy classes. As he considered the missing hand he thought about how the “mind-body” problem had become a true dilemma: His mind was functioning better than ever, but his body was decaying fast. Yep, he was dead alright.

  Not sure where to go or what to do, Wes thought again of Jez. He wanted to confront her and find out what had really happened, but what purpose would that serve? She couldn’t bring him back to life. Wes laughed to himself. He was dead. That was definitely the problem that needed his full attention, not Jez. With nowhere else to go, he returned to his apartment.

  That night Wes found he couldn’t sleep. He sat in the dark thinking about his death and his existence as a zombie. It was much easier to be reasonable when thought processes and emotions weren’t influenced by complicated chemicals in the brain. He hated that he’
d had to die to be rational again. He’d lost everything so quickly, and now he was forced to stick around so his stupidity could slap him in the face. What should he do now? Why hadn’t he “moved into the light” and out of his body? Was he supposed to do something before he could move on? How do you kill your body when it’s already dead?

  Plagued by questions, Wes thought about the hand he’d left in the alley; he’d had no control over it once it became detached from his body. Could he somehow detach himself from his whole body? Maybe if he threw himself into a fire and burned himself up he would move on. The problem was that he didn’t know where he would move on to. What if he burned himself but was still connected to the ashes? Now that would be worse than being a zombie. He wrapped the end of his left arm in an old shirt. The shredded flesh and exposed bone were ghastly reminders of the incident in the alley, not to mention his current overall condition. It was gruesome enough that even he didn’t want to look at it.

  Two days later someone knocked at Wes’s door. The noise was more shocking than the bugs that had recently discovered him. He didn’t answer. The knock came again and was followed by the sound of a key in the lock. Wes looked around nervously for a place to hide, and then as the door flung open he simply fell to the floor, closed his eyes, and played dead.

  “So what’s he in trouble for?” It was the building’s super, Mr. Howell.

  “Oh, nothing really, we had some situations arise a couple of days ago that we traced back to him,” a woman said.

  Wes listened as three people walked around his apartment. Then one of them located him on the floor between the coffee table and the couch.

  “I’ve got a body here. Is this him, Mr. Howell?”

  “Yeah. Oh dear.”

  “You can go now. We appreciate your help. We’ll let you know if we need you for anything else.”

  Wes heard the door open and close as someone left the room. He barely cracked his eyes open hoping to get a glimpse of the two strangers in his apartment. Through his blurry vision he could see that one of them, a man, had leaned down and was looking at him. He snapped his eyes shut again.

  “He’s dead alright. Look, he’s missing a hand and still wearing the handcuffs the officers reported they put on him. This is definitely our guy.”

  “Wes,” the woman said as she knelt down next to him, “we’re here to take you out of this place.”

  Wes didn’t move. Who were these people? Why were they talking to him when they knew he was dead? Take him where?

  “It’s no use pretending you’re not here,” the woman continued. “If we didn’t think you were, we wouldn’t have come.”

  Wes opened his eyes and looked at the strangers.

  “There we go,” the man said. “Looks like we’re making progress.”

  “Yes, it seems we are. Can you sit up? Good. Now, Wes, how did you die?”

  Wes tried to talk but only grunts came out. He pointed to the bottle of pills on the coffee table.

  “Overdose? Right. I thought it might be something like that. Tried to save yourself too, I’m sure. Well, we’re here to help you. You’re one of us now.”.

  Chapter 2

  The scuba diver finished up the dive show in the Caribbean Reef exhibit and the crowds began moving off to experience other attractions. Seth found himself a place on one of the benches that surrounded the large circular tank and sat down. It was a busy day at the aquarium, but not so busy that tourists had to wait for hours out front, as was often the case.

  Seth enjoyed the aquarium. The ocean was an amazing place and housed some of the earth’s most awe-inspiring predators. It was also an easy place for him to target prey. For the moment, however, his next victim would have to wait until he was finished with his meeting. He looked down at his watch, taking note of both the time and the tardiness of the person he was waiting for. He didn’t like people who made him wait. It didn’t matter though; the one who was wasting his time would be severed soon enough.

  The fish continued to swim in their artificial environment, oblivious to the thinning crowds. Seth scanned his surroundings to see if the person he was waiting for was there but hadn’t noticed him. There was no sign of Rahul. The exhibit was located in the center of a large neoclassically-designed building. The Doric-styled columns gave the building a sense of antiquity that, in actuality, it didn’t have. The building was less than a hundred years old – younger than he was. Still, he appreciated the effort made by the architects.

  Seth was a good-looking man. He was tall with broad shoulders. His strong chin and chiseled features were complimented by his dark eyes, tanned skin, and thick black hair. Despite being older than the building he was sitting in, he appeared to be in his mid-twenties. From where he sat, Seth could also keep tabs on the second reason for his visit: his prey. A young art student from a nearby college sat on the floor near one of the exhibits in the Island and Lakes section of the aquarium and worked in a sketchpad. Periodically she lifted her hand to tuck her long blond hair behind her ears to keep it out of her way. After his meeting with Rahul, Seth was going to use his good looks to trap her. Hunting in broad daylight was much more fun that hunting at night.

  A man sat down on the bench next to him, breaking his focus. It was Rahul. “You’re late,” Seth said without looking at him. “Lucky for you I’m in a good mood today.” He was only in a good mood because he was hunting, but Rahul didn’t know that.

  “I beg your forgiveness, sir, it was not my fault.”

  Rahul was a mix of Indian and European descent, and although his family had been living in the United States for a number of generations, his features were strongly Indian. A family walked by the two men sitting on the bench and the youngest of the three children made a comment about them to his older sister. Seth knew that being with Rahul would hinder his chances of catching his game and decided to keep the meeting short. He craved the art student.

  “Never mind, Rahul, I didn’t invite you here to scold you.”

  “Thank you, sir. You are too generous.”

  Seth didn’t care for Rahul’s fawning. The man was a liability to the entire Atumra organization and would soon be eliminated. It was just a matter of time before they had ironed out the problems with antemort possession and then Rahul would no longer be needed.

  “You have been a valuable asset to the Atumra,” Seth lied, “and the Body has decided to reward you. You have been chosen to be the first to be transferred into an antemort’s body. Does this please you?”

  “It does, sir, very much,” Rahul nodded rapidly.

  “That’s all I needed to tell you.” Seth noticed that his prey had started packing up her things. He needed to get rid of Rahul quickly and he would soon be feeding on this young girl’s life. “I wanted to tell you myself, but not around the others.”

  “Thank you again, sir, I knew my hard work would be recognized. My only desire is to please you and the Body.”

  Seth forced a smile to hide his contempt, knowing that hard work didn’t have anything to do with it. He couldn’t wait until he could eliminate Rahul. Wanting to be an antemort was a most unwise thing to wish for. Rahul would soon find that out – just before he died. “You should enjoy the aquarium,” Seth said as he stood, leaving Rahul on the bench. “Go see the jellyfish. I have some other business to attend to.”

  It pleased Seth that Rahul didn’t attempt to follow him. The young art student had already made her way through the exit at the front of the building, but Seth didn’t rush to catch up with her. He knew she was headed to the Red Line station a few blocks away where she would board a train going north. She would be his soon enough.

  Seth caught up with the girl as she waited for a crossing signal at one of the few streets that separated them from the CTA station. Walking up beside her, he pulled out his phone and pretended to send a text message. She glanced at him, and he looked over at her and smiled and winked just as the signal turned green. Stepping into the street first, he walked ahead of the gi
rl at a pace that was fast enough to stay in front of her but slow enough to keep her close.

  After a few more blocks, he entered the station and proceeded down the stairs and corridors to the platform. A few people were already waiting on the platform and Seth walked past them to a place that would allow him to be in the last car of the train when it arrived. His prey had taken the bait and followed him, stopping a few feet away. Seth looked at the girl as she claimed her spot near him and he smiled again. This time she smiled back. It was a few minutes before the train arrived in the station, but Seth didn’t attempt to talk to her, and she didn’t say anything to him.

  The train arrived and the doors opened in front of them. Seth motioned for the girl to board ahead of him; she did so and claimed a seat in the middle of the car facing the direction the train would be moving. Seth took a seat that faced the opposite direction on the other side of the aisle so he could look at her. The doors closed and the train picked up speed.

  There were a few other passengers on the train, but Seth knew none of them would hinder his plans. Toward the back of the train, a couple of older women were speaking loudly to each other in Spanish. There was a man in a business suit reading a magazine and sitting in one of the seats a few rows in front of Seth. Standing near one of the doors was a young black man with headphones, his head bouncing to the rhythm of the music that was barely perceptible over the noise the train made as it moved along the tracks.

  Seth knew he had a few stops to go before he would have to begin if he were to completely drain her. He planned to do it between the Chicago and Clark/Division stops. The train took on only a handful of passengers in the next few stations, and with all the empty seats in the car, Seth was able to maintain a clear view of the girl. Periodically, he would look at her and smile and she would reciprocate.

  As the train left the Chicago station, Seth made eye contact with the blond antemort. Her life force was easy to find, and once he had synced with her he began feeding. The process did not take long even though she was full of the energy he craved, and the exhilarating thrill he felt as her energy poured into him was a physical high he could never seem to get enough of. When he had taken all she had and there was nothing left but an empty shell, he broke the connection and she went limp against the window.