I felt my face flush.
“Most kids these days…” He waved his hand. “They get married for the wrong reasons. Then they divorce. No love there. Not like in my day, like my parents. Now, they were in love.” The older man reached for a framed photo and turned it toward us. “These were my folks.”
The aged, sepia photo was of a young couple. He was tall and good-looking with a short buzz-cut. She was pretty, with long, dark, wavy hair she wore pinned back on the sides. When I glanced back to the picture of the man, I realized he looked familiar, like an old-fashioned version of Ben. For an instant, I wondered if they were related.
“Very attractive couple,” I said, looking at the older man across from me. Was there a resemblance?
“They loved each other. She never married after he died in the war. Died of a broken heart.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
The man was silent, and I wondered if showing us the photo brought back sad memories. As I glanced away, I noticed his name tag.
“Thanks for sharing your story,” I said.
Danny chuckled. “Anytime, little lady.” He put the mints and Red Bull in a bag and handed it to me, while Ben grabbed the paper. “Can I interest you folks in some rock candy? On the house.” He put a glass jar on the counter in front of us and pulled off the lid. He didn’t wait for our answer. Instead, he used tongs and placed a small handful of crystal nuggets in a white, waxed paper bag. As he folded the top and gave it to me, something seemed strange.
“You come back soon,” Danny said.
Once outside, I noticed the sign in the window. Danny’s Bait Shop. I got back into the car and asked Ben, “Have you ever had déjà vu?”
He looked at me in a peculiar way and then smiled. “Have you?”
“I think I just did.”
***
“Come on.” I got out of the car in Aunt Barb’s driveway. I jogged toward the staircase hidden by the bushes, lakeside. “I wanna show you something.”
“Wait. Where are you going?” I was already heading down to the water. As I reached the landing and turned toward the last flank of stairs, I heard him call my name. “It’s too late to go down there,” he said. I thought I heard pain in his tone and wondered why he was being silly. After all, it wasn’t dark yet.
“It’s the best time of day to come down here,” I said when he joined me on the boulder.
He stood behind me, wrapping his arms around me.
“Look,” I said, pointing to a distant glimmer where the setting sun sparkled on the water’s surface.
“You scared me,” he whispered.
“Why?’ I asked, turning in his arms. “It’s not like I was going to jump in or anything.” I chuckled at the absurdity.
“Crazier things have happened.”
“You know, there’s this old story about some woman who came here every night looking for her husband that was lost at sea,” I said.
“Huh. Where’d you hear that?”
“My aunt told me about it. Something about this house. I think the woman lived here.”
He was quiet.
“Well, it’s just a rumor, anyway.” A funny feeling came over me as I continued. “Apparently, she slipped on the rocks and got swept away with the current.” My voice softened, and I wondered why it seemed so real. “They say if you see a distant sparkle of light, it’s her, looking for her lover.”
He hesitated at first, and then whispered, “It’s just a story, Em.”
“I know.” In my heart, I wondered if there were any truth to it.
“Promise me you won’t go near the edge.”
Huh?
“Promise?” He looked concerned that I’d do something careless.
“I promise,” I mumbled just before he kissed me.
EPILOGUE
Ben's Story
In all the years I was an agent, the Bureau never had an all-department conference, or a weeklong celebration. Nor speakers or entertainers like humans had during special events.
Then again, capturing Victor Nicklas was an exceptional feat worthy of that and more.
I missed most of the parties that took place those first days following the takedown. Instead, I chose to spend my time with Emma and simply listened in, remotely.
By Saturday, however, I found a few hours to sneak away and participate in the General Session, where Commander E attributed our success to my leadership. We were recognized hemisphere-wide in regional meetings and in the Nightly News.
The auditorium at headquarters was filled to capacity with standing room only that afternoon. All levels and ranks of agents congregated as the commander addressed the crowd.
He covered the details of Victor’s lives, his tenure with the agency, and the years on the run, but it was Victor’s capture that drew the most interest. Videos of that night in the woods outside Westport played on a continuous loop, while immortals cheered in the streets of our world.
Victor was admitted to a medical facility where agents could study him. Counselors worked to extract and evaluate the extent of his infractions. Final numbers of the souls he restrained was greater than any immortal could fathom. While his eventual existence couldn’t be confirmed until all indiscretions were detected, it was unlikely Victor would ever be allowed to leave our world.
Molly was commended for her strength, both as an agent and during the multiple life contracts where she died at the hands of Victor. She smiled when Commander E awarded her the Purple Heart and announced Aberthol’s pardon.
Without saying it, we knew the commander wanted to observe Abe on earth. The extent of his capabilities was unknown, as were his connections. Letting Abe live would let the commander monitor Abe’s network of comings and goings, and see if immortal offspring posed a threat, or were of future benefit to the force.
Molly chose to ignore Commander E’s underlying objective in hopes Abe’s time would last long enough for her to get to know the son she lost.
A memorial service was held in our world for Kensington and the other hybrids whose souls were lost at the hand of Victor. Missing persons’ flyers were taken down as cover stories flooded communities across the country. Cadavers replicating those humans lost surfaced in cities, putting an end to the misery their families endured and giving them closure for burial.
It was confirmed that Emma retained some memories of her past lives as a result of her near-death experience. But it was also determined that she was unaware of her actual pre-life existence. With mere speculation and without firm facts, she was not a threat and her life contract was still intact.
Claire eagerly accepted an extended assignment in Westport, to follow Emma not only through the final months of high school, but into her college years as well. She turned down a life contract opportunity, wishing to wait for Emma’s next life, where Claire could be her sister once again. Claire’s probationary status as a rookie changed to corporal rank.
Lucas found a note, in Ray’s handwriting, the morning after the dance. In it, Ray apologized for the short notice, but said he was unexpectedly needed out of town. The thick, black ink didn’t offer an explanation, or contact information. It didn’t give Lucas or Char any indication of Ray’s anticipated return. Instead, it simply said, “See you soon.”
Char was flustered but quickly calmed when Lucas opened a brown paper bag containing thousands of dollars in cash. Neal offered emotional support for the disappearance of Lucas’ stepdad, but it was Emma that Lucas chose to confide in. Their friendship strengthened and while I didn’t like, nor understand, Lucas, I accepted the need for the two of them to bond. The unconventional family Neal and Barb created was the only family Emma had left, and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.
“We’ve seen the end of an era, folks,” Commander E addressed the crowd. “One that will go down in history!” Cheers and applause ended the session in the auditorium as Commander E waved to the crowd and exited the stage.
After everyone di
spersed, I joined Commander E in his office where he poured each of us a scotch. The heavy, crystal glass with its ornate detail was reminiscent of his early-twentieth-century style, compared to the casual turtleneck sweater and slacks he wore. His youthful attire and neat appearance was opposite his norm.
“What gives?” I asked after taking a sip.
“What do you mean?”
“Your clothing. Your style’s changed.”
He shrugged. “Everyone needs a change once in a while.”
I laughed. Commander E never changed. His rigidness was the one, trusted constant in our world.
“Okay. So I had a little encouragement.”
“Encouragement?”
“Yes.”
“Is this from some attractive woman I’ve seen you with before?”
He shook his head and took a long pull of his scotch. “Well, yes. She’s very attractive. But you’ve never seen me with her before. She’s not interested in me. In that way.”
“Since when has that stopped you?”
“She’s human.”
“And? Need I ask again?” I chuckled, but he remained silent until I gave in. “When has that stopped you?”
“I want her as an agent.”
“You’re recruiting?’
“Something like that.”
“And she has no idea, does she?”
He shook his head and finished the scotch.
“How long’s her contract?”
He poured another glass and refilled mine before answering. “She’s got years. I don’t know. Thirty… forty, maybe.”
“And you’re recruiting already?” The thought seemed absurd.
He shrugged.
“Are you planning to cut her contract short?”
He didn’t answer. He was done talking. I was able to read that Ezekiel Cain had been following this woman for several lives before he shut his shield and blocked me from learning too much.
“Enjoy your R and R.” He raised his glass and toasted mine. “You deserve it.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said and finished the scotch. Extending my vacation a few years was granted, despite Commander E’s attempts to lure me back home to head up The Farm. It was a high-level position, but it wasn’t for me. Not now. Not after I found Emma.
“After that, we’ll talk again,” he said with a smirk. We both knew I’d be reassigned. In time. Whether it would be fieldwork, where I could stop in by Emma on a regular basis, or headquarters work, would be determined at a later date.
For now, all I knew was that I found my Elizabeth in Emma Bennett.
THE END
Acknowledgments
Looking back at this incredible journey, I can’t help but recognize the people that supported me along the way…
To Rebecca, Courtney, Marya, and Dyan, thank you for believing in my story. I am truly blessed to be a part of your family.
To my husband, Michael, I couldn’t have done this without you. Every step of the way, you were there for me and I appreciate that, more than you know. Love you, always! To my daughter, Brittany, and my son, Kyle, you are my inspiration and my strength. I love you both—you’re the best!
To Diana Zawada, you listened to my ramblings, gave great advice, celebrated good times, and consoled me in down times. I can’t ask for a better friend.
To the staff, students, and my friends at AllWriters’ Workplace and Workshop, you helped make Ben and Emma’s story better. To Author Michael Giorgio, your honest critiques were invaluable. Thank you for your guidance and friendship, and most of all, for your sarcastic humor.
To my friends and family, I appreciate each and every one of you. Your encouragement kept me going.
Lastly, to Mom, Dad, Eustice, and Sharie—who are probably celebrating this day in their Afterworld—this story is for you!
About the Author
Sandy Goldsworthy was born and raised in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, earning a Bachelor’s Degree in Marketing from the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh.
Her passion for putting pen to paper began when her high school English teacher inspired her to be more descriptive in her work. Ever since, Sandy has dabbled in creative writing, searching for that perfect shade of red.
Sandy’s first novel, Aftermath, was signed by Clean Teen Publishing, in 2014.
When not writing, Sandy enjoys traveling, cooking, reading, and hanging out with friends and family. She resides in southeastern Wisconsin with her husband, Mike, two children, Brittany and Kyle, and their English Mastiff, Miles.
If you enjoyed Aftermath, we recommend you check out Hidden Monster by Amanda Strong. Read the first chapter here!
Step, step, breathe, breathe, step, step, breathe, breathe. My shoes kept a steady rhythm with my burning lungs. I veered off my regular path, opting to hear the crunch of the leaves beneath my feet. The image of my mom’s disapproving face was ignored as I leapt across a gurgling brook. Breathe, breathe, crunch, crunch.
If I wasn’t mountain biking, I was running. I craved speed and freedom. I had to escape the oppressive perfection of living in the Campbell home. Thinking of my two older sisters, one model and the other a star volleyball player, my legs lunged, lengthening their stride. Not good at team sports and terrified by cameras, I knew my family felt my height was wasted on me.
Even Jeremy gives me a hard time.
A stitch pinched my side. Breathe, breathe. I knew I was going too fast, not pacing myself right. Something was urging me on, pushing me to scale the hill before me, and plunge deeper into the woods. I refocused on my rhythm, my inhales and exhales, and my body realigned itself, goose bumps shooting across my arms. There it is. I’d hit my second wind and I surged on, not caring where my feet led.
It’s freedom! Complete and—
There was a rush of air, a whistling in my ear, and a sting to the back of my arm. Instantly, I tumbled to the ground, sliding into the damp morning dew. Cold dirt filled my nostrils as blackness enveloped me.
***
I heard my own labored breathing long before I realized I was somewhere in between awake and asleep. Forcing my eyes open, I gasped. My senses took everything in at once—the smell of wood shavings, the scratchy ropes on my wrists and ankles, and the pressure of the mattress beneath my body. I screamed, but the empty room with wooden floors and stacked logs for walls was empty. No one burst through the door in the corner.
Realizing it was useless and only making my throat raw, I fell silent. Panic flooded me. How did I get here? I pressed my thoughts to retrace my steps, but my mind felt sluggish. My last memory was running in the woods just before sunrise. I could still feel the burn from the autumn air hitting my lungs. Now the solitary window painted a yellow rectangle on the floor. The room felt stuffy. It’s probably late afternoon. But is it the same day?
The minutes rolled slowly into hours, the silence suffocating. What had my therapist said to do when I was scared? Breathe deeply and don’t panic. It was too late for that; all the years of therapy after my childhood accident were rendered useless. I’m drowning all over again. Only this time, it wasn’t water filling my lungs but pure fear and terror pressing down on my chest. I gulped in dry air, my eyes burning with tears.
No one’s coming to save me. A sob escaped me as the real horror of the situation washed over me. I’m tied up. Someone knows I’m here. What would happen when they came back? As the last rays of light were snuffed out by the shadows of the night, that someone came through the wooden door.
***
“Just tell me—what do you want?” I asked, knowing it was pointless. In the three weeks—or had it been longer?—of my imprisonment, I had yet to get an answer. He never spoke.
I blinked, trying to clear the blurry blob that occasionally floated across my right eye. Never having glasses before, I was annoyed by my hazy vision. I blinked again, my eyes refocusing on the figure pacing the room. What had started as a dull headache was now a hammer drumming at the back of my eye sockets. I need w
ater. My stomach grumbled with nauseating hunger.
There was no escaping the noxious, pinstriped mattress, except for the periodic bathroom breaks, which weren’t frequent enough.
My jaw quivered, and I clamped my mouth shut. Don’t start chattering now, I commanded myself, knowing it usually ended with my whole body convulsing. October was merciless on my bare skin; my arms and legs were permanently smattered with goose bumps.
Stupid running shorts. I wished for the thousandth time I’d listened to my mom and worn a sensible sweat suit that day. The swish-swish of his warm ski parka and pants seemed to mock me, as he continued his route of six steps forward and then six steps back again.
First time in my life that I love my leg hair.
Too late, I realized it was quiet, the rhythmic swish-swish gone. In one impossible leap, he was next to me. I squeaked out in surprise. This wasn’t the first time he’d come close, but usually he ambled over, producing a long needle from his pocket.
Silently, he pressed his face against mine, the black ski mask tickling my forehead and nose. I shied away, terrified by both his touch and the change in his behavior. My bindings made my attempt to move useless, so I squeezed my eyes shut. My chest heaved up and down as my heart galloped against my rib cage. It’s ok. He’s got a needle. The pinch’s coming still. It’ll be over soon, I consoled myself.
The ski mask lifted off my face. I tried to steady my pulse, inhaling slowly. Not daring to open my eyes, I waited, but there was still no pinch. The stillness stretched on, with only his heavy breathing letting me know he was near. Never talking, the mechanical sounds he produced reminded me of Darth Vader. I long since decided that he was actually a human and the protruding square under his mask was just a voice modulator. He’s still a monster. His growling sounds sent chills through me.
Maybe he has food. I cracked my eyelids, peeking through feathered lashes. His body leaned over mine, elevated by knuckles planted in the mattress. Terror rippled through me. Why isn’t he drugging me? Why isn’t he drugging me? I welcomed my arm being stuck with a needle. It was my only escape from this nightmare.
With tall boots, gloves, and a long, knit mask, I hadn’t known if my abductor was male or female at first. Now with the way he moved, stared at me, and shoved water bottles and bread into my mouth, I knew he, it, was a man.
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