A group of people stand in front of me, their features backlit by the blinding but welcoming light.
I step forward. It seems like I’m stepping on nothing at all. I look down. I am not wearing the clothes I was wearing in the Overlord’s tower. I am in dark jeans and a t-shirt. I run my hand over my face. It’s smooth. No beard, not even stubble. My fingers ruffle through my hair. It’s soft, shorter than it was.
I remember pain. I remember sorrow.
But why?
The thoughts are fleeting. Fading away.
What happened? Where am I?
One of the figures steps forward so I can see them and make out their features. It is a woman. She has long, blonde hair that I know smells of cherries. She is smiling.
It’s Darlene. My wife. The mother of my child.
I smile so wide that my face begins to ache. It’s a good ache.
“Took you long enough,” Darlene says. She wears a light green dress made of some soft material. The dress clings to her body, accentuating her curves, her shape. She is radiant, she is beautiful. I feel as if I am falling in love all over again.
There is a tingling in my leg, near my calf; an ache in my shoulder, right by the base of my neck. Almost like…pain. I do remember pain, but this feeling, too, is fleeting.
My heart swells with love, the purest love I have ever known, and these phantom feelings of anguish soon fade away to nothing.
“Darlene,” I say.
Tears drip down my cheeks. I feel warm. It seems I have not seen her in a long time, but it also seems like she has never left.
She comes forward, smiling. Her arms wrap around me. I hold her tight, breathe her in, the sweet smell of cherries. We kiss long and deep. Then we part.
“Where am I? Where have I been?” I ask.
Darlene’s smile falters. “Jack…you’re dead.”
I look down at my hands. They are still there, still whole. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.”
“Jack, this is after.”
I close my eyes, grasping for the memory in my mind, the memory of how I died. I can’t find it, all I have are memories of happiness, of joy. Mine and Darlene’s first date. Our first kiss. Getting married. A beach. My dog, Cupcake. My son, Junior. Family and friends and laughter.
Happiness.
“After,” I repeat, letting the word linger.
She nods. Takes my hand. “There are people who want to see you.”
I look up at the figures obscured by the light. She pulls me gently, and I don’t resist. I can never resist anything when it comes to Darlene. As we get closer, their features come into view.
The first figure that steps forward is shorter than the rest. He looks like Darlene, he has her eyes.
“Dad,” he says in a kid’s voice subconsciously lowered to sound like a man’s.
“Junior?” I bend down and hug him tight. Kiss him on top of the head. “I love you.”
He smiles. I expect him to push me away and tell me I’m embarrassing him, but he doesn’t. He says, “I love you, too, Dad.”
Another figure steps forward. Norm. He waves with all five fingers on his hand—I don’t know why this is significant. I can’t remember, and I don’t think I want to.
“Missed you, little bro,” he says, putting me in a headlock and rubbing my hair roughly with his knuckles.
“Quit it, asshole,” I say jokingly. He lets me go, and I give him a soft punch to the ribs.
There’s Herb, the original Herb. He is big as always. His soft eyes find mine and he asks, “Do you hear the music, Jacky?”
And I do. A soft melody plays in the distance, sweet, fulfilling. Herb begins swaying with the rhythm.
A dog barks and pads along toward me like he’s floating. He’s young, but not quite a puppy. Ink black, red collar around his neck. His tail wags a mile a minute.
“Cupcake!” I say. “Hey, boy!”
He jumps up and leans on my front, nails digging in but not hurting. I kiss him right between the eyes.
There’s Kevin, muscles rippling, hair gelled. There’s Tim, who comes up next to Norm and kisses him on the cheek. There’s Mike and Mother in her wheelchair and Roland and Nacho and Mandy and all of my friends and everyone I have ever considered family.
“Welcome home, Jack,” Darlene says. “We’ve missed you.”
I’ve missed them, too. I think they know that.
But, suddenly, the blissfulness that has come over me threatens to leave.
“Wait,” I say, looking at the smiling, tranquil faces of the others. “Where’s Abby? Where’s Lilly?”
Darlene places her hand on the small of my back. “It’s not their time yet, Jack.”
“Will they—are they okay?”
“They’re fine,” she answers.
Norm says, “You know Abby. She’s a tough son of a bitch.”
Darlene rolls her eyes at my brother, a gesture that just feels…right. “They will both have long and happy lives,” she says. “They’ll be safe. And when it’s their time, we’ll greet them like we’ve greeted you.” She musses my hair. I put my arm around her waist.
“Okay,” I say. “Good.”
Cupcake barks, and my son breaks away from us. He holds a bright yellow tennis ball in his hand and he launches it, the ball bouncing far into the whiteness. Cupcake takes off, his tail wagging so vigorously, I think he may fly away. He reaches the ball and, after batting it around with his paws a few times, eventually brings it back. Junior throws it again. Rinse, repeat. I watch them do this a dozen times over while holding my wife, the love of my life, close.
As I stand there, I realize that I still remember pain and fear and evil, but just barely. I know those emotions don’t matter anymore.
Because I am at peace. I am happy.
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Afterword
There it is. Jack’s tale is complete. He found peace. And to me, that is the definition of a happy ending.
I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Jack is the type of character who, even when I wasn’t writing about him, was always knocking around in the back of my head, wanting to get out. Same goes for the supporting cast: Abby, Norm, Darlene, Herb, Lilly, and the many, many others. They’re all like family to me. Yes, I know, I know—they’re not real, but it’s the truth. They’ll always hold a special place in my heart.
I hope they’ll be in yours as well.
Thank you so much for sticking around to the very end,
F.M.
February 15, 2019
About the Author
Flint Maxwell lives in Ohio, where the skies are always gray and the sports teams are consistently disappointing (not so much lately). He loves Star Wars, basketball, Stephen King novels, and almost anything horror. You can probably find him hanging out with one (or all) of his five household pets when he’s not writing, reading, or watching movies.
Get in touch with Flint on Facebook
Also by Flint Maxwell
Jack Zombie Series
Dead Haven (Book 1)
Dead Hope (Book 2)
Dead Nation (Book 3)
Dead Coast (Book 4)
Dead End (Book 5)
Dead Lost (Book 6)
Dead Judgment (Book 7)
Fright Squad Series
Fright Squad: A Comedic-Horror Adventure
Fright Squad 2: The Monster Games
Fright Squad 3: Night of the Slasher
Taken World Series
Ravaged (Book #1)
Darkness (Book #2)
Decimated (Book #3)
Beneath (Book #4)
The Midwest Magic Chronicles
The Midwest Witch (Book #1)
The Midwest Wanderer (Book #2)
The Midwest Whisperer (Book #3)
The Midwest War (Book #4)
Something Dark: Horror Stories
Let Us Out
The Bitter Cold: Five Chilling Tales of Winter Horror
Dead Last: A Zombie Novel (Jack Zombie Book 8) Page 18