AfterLife

by S. P. Cloward

  “No.” Oscar sounded as discouraged as Ken. “They weren’t in the car when backup arrived. They got away somehow.”

  Wes looked across all the computer screens in the room. With all this technology, how could they vanish so completely in such a short time? There had to be a way to find them. How could they help antemorts if they couldn’t even track the Atumra’s movements?

  “We are still not experts,” Ken stated as if reading Wes’s thoughts. He resumed his place next to Wes. “The whole anti-Atumra concept is still quite new to all of us.”

  “So they have a new soldier,” Wes said flatly.

  “That they do, Mr. Wes. That they do.” Ken stood up and motioned for Wes to follow him. They walked out of Ops and started down the corridor toward the parking garage. “After training, you shall also receive communication equipment. Hopefully all your pursuits will end more favorably.”

  They didn’t spend much more time at the Hub and little was said during their drive back to Charleston. Wes contemplated their activities of the past few hours as Ken fought to keep the old Volkswagen on the road, and thought about how he’d watched as another person’s life was taken. He hadn’t seen the Atumra Mortuis suck the life from the antemort to make him one of them, but he knew that was the inevitable conclusion of today’s events. AfterLife recruited after death. The Atumra was recruiting healthy people in the prime of life, and their methods were ruthless. Obviously, they wouldn’t let anyone or anything get in their way. At this moment, Wes made it a goal to find a way to keep them from getting any recruits on his watch. If he’d had any doubts before, Wes now knew exactly how dangerous the Atumra was.

  Chapter 17

  Seth waited as the blond boy, probably in his early 20s, fiddled with his keys in an attempt to unlock his apartment door. He had plenty of time for what he planned to accomplish, and the boy’s ignorance of his impending death was humorous. After a couple attempts, the boy leaned against the doorframe, laughed a little, looked at Seth with a nervous smile, and then returned to his struggle with the aged lock.

  Seth reached out and rubbed the boy's back in encouragement since the only thing that stood between him and his prey’s energizing life force was an improperly maintained door lock. The anticipation of the rush he would receive from the feeding was almost as intoxicating as the feeding itself. After another minute of fidgeting, the lock gave and the door opened. “Come on in,” the boy said and stepped into the unlit living room on the other side of the threshold. Seth followed him inside.

  After entering, the boy switched on a low watt overhead lamp that hardly added any light to the room. The apartment was cluttered and the boy fluttered around, switching on a small stereo and trying to quickly clear up some of the mess to make room for them to sit. Seth walked over and sat down on the worn fabric of the newly cleared couch.

  The boy kept nervously moving around trying to make things look presentable but none of it mattered. In a few minutes he would be dead. Seth didn’t know anything about the boy except that he was easy prey – no doubt lonely and looking for companionship. His own good looks and aura of sophistication enabled Seth to easily pick him up at a club a few blocks away, and after buying the boy a couple of drinks, Seth asked where he lived. There was no evidence of hesitation or suspicion on the boy’s part; he’d led Seth out of the club straight to his home and his own demise. He was a perfect example of why antemorts were weaker; they were usually the cause of their own destruction.

  A CTA train passed by outside the apartment window and the sparks the train’s wheels made on the tracks emitted flashes of light, which caused a strobe effect inside the apartment and added to the shadows caused by the dim bulb. The boy finished with his preparations and timidly sat down next to Seth on the couch.

  “Sorry about that,” the boy said as he settled in beside Seth. “I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

  “What were you expecting?” Seth smiled at the boy and lifted an eyebrow.

  “Nothing I guess, I have a pretty boring life. Not much going on.”

  “Then I should help you out with that,” Seth said as he leaned in toward the boy. “We should make the boring go away.” The boy closed his eyes preparing for a kiss that would never come. Seth lifted his finger to the boy’s lips and pressed it against them, triggering the boy to open his eyes. Seth looked in them and synced.

  This boy was filled with life and Seth could sense the energy flowing between them. Images of the boy’s life came with the life force, and the boy had been correct in saying he had a pretty boring life. Antemorts rarely lived exciting lives, at least by Seth’s standards – he really was doing the boy a favor by ending it now. Seth finished feeding and the boy’s lifeless body fell into his lap. He shoved the body off him and it flopped to the floor with a thud. He kicked it off his feet and out of his way so he could stand up.

  Seth looked at his watch; it was almost time to meet Jezebel. She was a defector from AfterLife, but other than the pleasure that was always associated with stealing one from their group, she was disappointing. She was not performing up to expectations and like her fellow soldier, Blake, she needed to be punished. After turning off the light, Seth took one last look around the dead antemort’s apartment. Another train went by outside the window with the same strobe effect, even more obvious in the darkness. With each flash, Seth could see the empty remains of the boy’s body lying on the floor. He smiled and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

  Jezebel was waiting in the diner, Seth saw her through the window as he approached from outside. The small, greasy-looking restaurant had large, dirty windows facing the empty street. He went in and sat down in the booth across from Jezebel. She looked up from her coffee and quickly straightened in her seat. No doubt she knew about Blake’s punishment. He hoped she was afraid; Seth enjoyed the power fear offered him.

  “Sir, I didn’t see you come in.”

  “It would appear that your thoughts are on other things.”

  Jezebel shook her head. “No sir, my thoughts are always on the Atumra.”

  “I didn’t come here to hear you praise the Body. I’m sure I could peer into your mind and prove your statement false. I’m here because I’ve discovered a deficit in your contribution to the group. I’m sure Blake told you about the little talk he and I had.”

  Jezebel withheld a response. She kept her gaze down at the white milk swirling in her coffee. Seth didn’t like feeling that his time was being wasted. He slid his hand across the sticky, heavily varnished wooden table and knocked her cup on its side, spilling the contents across the table and onto the carpeted floor. Jezebel looked up with a startled expression on her face.

  “Hello,” Seth said, looking at Jezebel’s shocked face. “Do I have your complete attention now?”

  The waitress hurried over and began cleaning up the spill. “I’m sorry,” Seth said, giving her a smile and speaking in his most charming voice. He moved as if he were going to assist in the cleanup. “I must have bumped the table by accident.”

  “Not a problem,” the waitress said as she mopped up the spill. She was a middle-aged woman; her dirty-blond hair was poorly tied back out of her way and loose strands waved around her face as she moved to clean up Seth’s mess. The dirty terrycloth towel she was using was covered with residue from every spill that had been wiped up on her shift. Once she was done, she deposited the rag behind the counter and returned. “Can I get you a new cup ma’am?” The woman wiped her hands on her dirty apron.

  “She’ll take another one, and I’ll take one as well.” Seth smiled warmly at the woman and she walked away.

  The diner wasn’t empty. A couple was seated at the opposite end of the room and two large men in coveralls hunched in quiet conversation at the counter, probably on their lunch break from whatever third-shift job they worked. It was as good a place to have this discussion as any. Seth turned his attention back to Jezebel. “Tell me what happened. How did one of your recruits end up with
AfterLife?”

  “It just happened, I swear. I followed procedure, but I had no idea he would kill himself. I didn’t expect it.”

  “You’re holding something back, Jezebel,” Seth said in a steely tone. “No one says the words ‘I swear’ unless they’re hiding something. Again, I’m tempted to sync with you to see if you’re telling me the truth.”

  “He wouldn’t have been a good soldier anyway,” Jezebel said sullenly, looking down at the table.

  “Interesting. I wasn’t aware that you were in a position to make that decision.”

  The waitress returned with two cups of coffee and placed one in front of each of them. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, thanks,” Seth said, once again using his charming tone with the woman. “I apologize again for spilling the coffee.”

  “No problem, handsome. Let me know if you need anything else.” The waitress smiled back at him, then turned leaving Seth and Jezebel alone.

  “I’m going to forget your last comment, Jezebel, and you may even leave this diner with both your eyes.” Seth continued in his charming tone, “You see, I am a forgiving person and I’m going to let you make up for the loss you’ve caused the Atumra by allowing one of our recruits to go to AfterLife.

  “You must understand that AfterLife is more than a competitor, they are our adversary. Their beliefs go against everything we’re working toward. They are soft, and don’t understand the complete inferiority of antemorts. Instead, they want to live harmoniously with them. Now I need you to tell me, Jezebel, are you starting to second-guess your decision to leave them for the Atumra?”

  “No! Never.” Jezebel poured some milk into her coffee from a small glass cup. “I am fully committed to our purpose and am willing to serve.” This statement was made with conviction and sounded more believable and less forced than her previous pledges.

  “I believe you.” Seth sipped his coffee. The drink’s stimulating effects were lost on his Mortui body. “You want to earn your chance to possess an antemort.”

  Jezebel dropped her chin, lowering her eyes to avoid eye contact with Seth. “Yes sir, I do.”

  “I’m not going to ask your reasons for wanting such a thing,” Seth said dismissively. He couldn’t understand any possible reason that would motivate a Mortui to desire the life of an antemort after once having a taste of Mortui power. The fact that Jezebel did desire antemort life only added to her disposability. “I can tell you that you will have to work harder now to achieve this goal.”

  “Yes, sir. I can do that.”

  “I said I was forgiving, but you will have to make up for your failure. Wesley has an older brother. He, like Wesley, also has the genetic predisposition to become a Mortui and should make a nice replacement for the soldier you neglected to recruit.”

  Jezebel was fixated on her coffee again and Seth was tempted to once more tip over her cup, but then she looked up and began to slowly nod.

  “Is your assignment clear, Jezebel?”

  “Yes, sir, very clear.”

  “Then we’re finished here,” Seth said. “Don’t disappoint me this time.”

  During his conversation with Jezebel, Seth had watched as the other diner patrons finished their meals and left. He stood up from the booth’s bench and walked over to the counter. In spite of the large amount of energy he still enjoyed from the blond boy, he decided he would feed again. “Excuse me, ma’am, can you direct me to the restroom?” He gave the waitress a big smile.

  “Sure, hon,” she said, smiling back, “it’s just down that hallway.” She pointed down a poorly lit corridor situated to one side of the counter, as she continued to clean up after the two men who had been sitting there.

  The hallway was lit by a dying fluorescent bulb that struggled to illuminate the faded papered walls. On the way to the bathroom, Seth passed doors that opened to the kitchen, a storage closet, and the women’s restroom. The men’s bathroom door was locked. He quickly turned around and walked back to the counter. “I’m sorry to bother you again,” Seth said to the waitress, “but the bathroom door seems to be locked.” His charming smile stretched across his face.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right, we do lock them at night now. We had some unwanted interactions takin’ place in them, if you know what I mean.” She led Seth down the hallway and pulled out a set of keys.

  Again, he’d found effortless prey. This antemort was also making it too easy; he hardly considered this hunting. Seth had a handful of excuses he was prepared to use to get the waitress separated from the rest of the diner, but a locked door that only she could open simplified things further.

  After unlocking the door, the waitress turned to Seth and smiled. “There you go, young man.”

  “Thanks.” Seth smiled as he looked in her eyes and began feeding. After a few seconds, the woman’s body dropped to the floor. It hadn’t taken nearly as long as the young man had earlier; she didn’t have as much life in her. Still, she did have more going on in her life. Her three children would have to learn to live without their mother.

  Seth made his way back to the booth where Jezebel was sitting. “Don’t worry about the check,” he said, making his way out of the diner. “I took care of it.”

  Chapter 18

  “So Carter, you’ve been with us a little less than three months. It seems like you’ve caught on fairly quickly and you’re getting along just fine with the work here. How do you feel about your job?”

  Wes was seated at a small circular table in the corner of his manager’s office. Today had not been a good day. The feelings of stress during his “confinement” in this small town had continued to grow until he thought he might explode or go crazy if something didn’t change soon. This mindless job was not helping, and Wes felt particularly resentful at having to sit through a worthless, three-month job evaluation.

  At the sound of her voice, he glanced up from the dirty spot he was staring at on the table’s laminate surface to look at Sandra sitting opposite him. She was a small, mannish-looking woman. Her dark brown hair was cut and styled in a mullet, a fashion that would have been considered stylish for a man in the 80s. Her words traveled through a gap in her teeth where she was missing the tooth on the left side of her two front ones. “I think I’m getting along just fine. I’ve never worked retail before so that’s kind of new for me, but I think I have the hang of it.” Wes finished his statement with a nod and a forced smile.

  “Well, we’re certainly happy to have you here. The footwear department has never looked so good. You’ve been able to organize the storeroom and you’re really great with the customers. The district manager commented on things when she was here last week. Do you have any questions before we begin your review?”

  “No, I think I’m good,” Wes said, shaking his head.

  “Great, let’s get started then.” Sandra turned over the sheet of paper that was waiting face down on the table to reveal his review. Being the standard company review, the page was laid out with a grid on one side where Wes was given a score for various dimensions of job performance. “Now this is based on a scale from one to five with five being the best. I’ve rated you as a three in most areas. This is a very good rating, and you should be proud of your accomplishment.”

  Wes noticed that three was average, four above average, and five excellent. His review didn’t seem to reflect the statements Sandra had just made about his work before turning the sheet over. He reacted with disappointment and anger. He was more thorough with his responsibilities than any of the other employees; he deserved better than this! Squelching his reaction, he reminded himself that it didn’t really matter; he wouldn’t be working here very long. This menial job was just a tiny piece of his training, not a career move, and once Emily felt he was ready to move on he’d be gone.

  Still, the rating scale didn’t make any sense. If he was making as much of a contribution as Sandra said, was he being given average scores? The ratings were most likely linked to raises, he concluded,
and corporate America didn’t like to increase their bottom line with higher pay.

  Sandra continued her review. “So, Carter, we have a great interest in your professional future and want to help you grow. Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  “I don’t know, Sandra,” Wes said, thinking how comical the question was considering he was dead. “I’m just kind of taking it one day at a time right now.”

  After the review Sandra thanked Wes for his time, to which he jokingly responded it was really her time since he was getting paid. He returned to the sales floor.

  The rest of the day did not improve. It was an extremely slow day in the mall, and as he stared across the empty department store, Wes felt as if he was in hell and this was his punishment for dying. Taking those pills had not been the answer to his problems but the cause of new and potentially worse ones. After all, here he was, serving a sentence in the middle of nowhere.

  Wes walked up and down the rows of shoes straightening the boxes for the third time in 20 minutes. Somehow, even with no customers in the store, the stacks always seemed to get messed up. Today he really did feel like a zombie. His body didn’t feel fatigued like it used to, but after only a few hours he felt completely drained and brain dead as if he really was a body without a soul.

  On his third round through the department, Wes noticed an elderly woman making her way through the nearby clothing racks. She selected a couple of clearance items and draped them over her arm, holding them tightly as she roughly shuffled through the other clothes. A few items came off their hangers and fell to the floor as she pushed them down the rack. Periodically she would pull something and hold it up for further inspection, but upon finding it unacceptable she draped it over the clothes she had already shifted through instead of hanging it back on the rack. Once done with the hanging clothes, she shifted her attention to the shoe department.