AfterLife (6 page)

Wes watched Emily talk. He understood the basic concepts she
was talking about, but some things didn’t make sense. How did you charge a dead
human body? It wasn’t like you could just plug it into a wall socket. He
concluded that would be one of the things he’d probably find out sooner rather
than later.

Emily paused in her explanation. She picked up a handful of
sand and slowly released it into a small pile in front of her and then brushed
off the particles that remained on her hands. “There are some other things you
should know about walking dead.” Emily looked Wes in the eyes. “AfterLife isn’t
the only group of us out there and not all groups have good motives.”

She stood up unexpectedly. “Let’s walk a little more.” Wes
complied and the two began walking again. After a few minutes, Emily continued.
“There are dozens of groups of walking dead in the world, but basically we’re
all break-offs from one original group. We actually coexist pretty well since
we share such a unique situation. There are about 10,000 known living dead. For
the most part, these groups function unnoticed within living society. We’ve
also become pretty organized, especially in recent years.

“The process we use for rebirth was first used in the early
nineteenth century in Europe and then traveled to America shortly before the
Civil War. Advancements and improvements have been made in the science and the
processes, but even with these we have not been able to find a way to
completely survive without feeding, or charging as I like to call it, off
living humans. We don’t feed in the traditional sense, but what we take from a
living body is much worse, in my opinion, than actually eating them. We take
time off their life.”

“How do we do that,” Wes asked, not understanding how this
was considered feeding.

“Through the eyes. When you soul-sync with an antemort, or
living person, you are actually feeding off his or her life energy. You connect
with them and that’s how we get the energy our mind needs to maintain its
connection with the body.”

“Aren’t we soul-synced right now?”

“We are and that’s part of what’s helping your body through
the rebirth process. I’m allowing you to feed off my charge, but you aren’t
receiving nearly as much charge from me as an antemort would provide. When two
Mortuis soul-sync, it doesn’t seem to have the same impact on them as it does
an antemort. Even though our minds are still connected to our bodies, we don’t
lose any connectivity to our bodies from it. I have to warn you though; you
must be careful which Mortuis you sync with. You can be severed while being
soul-synced with the wrong person.

“I also need to warn you about the Truly Dead, as some of us
call them. They’re members of the original, ancient Mortui organization that
AfterLife broke away from, called the Atumra. They’re Mortuis who have souls
that are as dead as their bodies. They believe they are an entitled race – not
evil, but they are evil. They see themselves as more than human, and antemorts
as an inferior breed, useful only as a way to keep them alive.

“You’re lucky AfterLife found you first. Life as a Truly
Dead can be pretty unfulfilling. Of course, there have been members of
AfterLife who have gone to the other group lured by ideas of entitlement and
the idea that they might have a chance to inhabit a living body again. Like I
said, life is about choices.”

Wes considered the appeal that being alive might have. He
hadn’t been dead for very long and didn’t know how much the rebirth process
would fix everything that was wrong. He wasn’t able to feel, smell, or touch,
and the thought of not experiencing anything associated with these senses did
make joining the Atumra something he could see considering.

“It’s not fulfilling though,” Emily said as if she knew what
he was thinking. “It’s hard enough to know you’re stealing days from the life
of a living person just to survive. The thought of taking everything from
someone else is selfish.

“Wes, look at me.” Wes pulled his attention from the water
and turned toward Emily to give her his full attention. “We don’t usually go
into this much depth about the Truly Dead with a new Mortui until they’ve been
around for awhile. However, recently we’ve lost a good number of our members to
their ranks because of the promise of one day being able to be alive again. If
they ever figure out how to possess the body of an antemort, they will steal
that person’s opportunity at life as much as any murderer would.” Emily placed
her hand on Wes’s arm and studied his face. “Regardless of how you, I, or any
Mortui died, we don’t have the right to take the opportunity of life away from
someone else.”

After staring into his eyes, Emily’s hand dropped back onto
her lap and she straightened to look out over the ocean. They sat in silence
and watched the waves rolling in and out. “Life is about choices,” Emily
finally said. “I just have this feeling you’re a good guy.”

Wes had always thought of himself as a good guy. Sure, he’d
made mistakes during his life, but for the most part he considered himself a
good person. “I like to believe I am.”

Emily continued softly, “I’ll tell you this. Being dead
doesn’t rid you of your conscience. You will still feel good and bad about the
things you do. A good person will always feel a little guilty when he feeds off
an antemort. Pure and simple, we are parasites and there is no getting around
it. You’ll discover the longer you’re dead the more you crave feeding, and
you’ll hate yourself for the cravings.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that for now,” Wes said. “I
haven’t fed on anyone yet.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you all about it. I’m going to be
your trainer you know.”

“You are? What does that mean?”

“Well, we go out for some hands-on training. You’re going to
be my brother. We’ll move into a small town somewhere, usually near a college
where it’s easy to feed. Then after your training, you’ll be placed with a
companion in a larger city and you’ll get to start making antemorts’ lives
better. Do you think you can pull off being my brother?”

“I guess, I think so.”

Emily began to laugh. “I really love the training period. I
love pretending to be someone else! I just love teaching new members! In the
short time I’ve gotten to know you, Wes, I’m looking forward to training you.”

“Whoa, a college town? I don’t have to go back to school, do
I?”

“No,” Emily said, laughing again. “At least not yet. You can
decide that after you’ve been in the field for awhile. Many Mortuis decide they
want to go back to learn new things so they can grow and improve. It’s that
whole self-actualization thing. You’ll have plenty of time to learn or try
anything you want.”

“So, why do we have to live near a college?” Wes wondered
why location was so important.

“Well, to be completely honest, it’s for the food source.
You always want to stay near areas where there are young antemorts in large
numbers. You’ll find that you get more when you feed from a younger person. We
don’t feed from babies or small children, though. A mind too young will sever
very easily. Their souls haven’t had enough time to adjust to their bodies. Oh,
and you can’t feed off animals. It would be so much easier if we could, but it
just doesn’t work – the wrong kind of energy or something.”

“I really do have a lot to learn,” Wes said, feeling
slightly overwhelmed with all they’d talked about.

“We can head back now, Wes. We’ve been soul-synced long
enough. They should be done with your body.”

“How do we go back?”

“Well, I’ve synced with you so I’ll break our connection. When
you break a sync, you just think of nothing. It’s hard to explain; as soon as
you’ve done it once you’ll always be able to do it. Like your shooting stars.
You’ll always be able to make those.”

Emily smiled at Wes. The beach faded away as did Emily and
the pier that stood in the distance behind her. There was more “nothingness”
for an instant and then Wes opened his eyes. His vision was clear.

K
im sat in her
car looking out the windshield, but not seeing anything. Right before arriving
home, the rain had increased from the light drizzle that had started that
morning to a heavy downpour that now ran down the glass in front of her. The
rapid rate and high velocity of the droplets were so extreme it was difficult
to see the front door from where her car sat in the driveway. She watched and
waited for her chance; the rain needed to lighten up long enough for her to get
from the car and make the mad dash to the house. This was the most exciting
thing that would happen to her all day.

Pulling the key out of the ignition, Kim gathered her things
and placed her hand on the door as she prepared to open it. The rain eased its
pounding, and Kim took her chance. In one motion, she opened the door, leaped
from her car, slammed the door behind her, and ran up the front walkway to the
door.

The house was empty. Mark, her husband, was still at work
and their three children were all grown and gone. The youngest had moved out
just six months earlier. Kim put her things down on the hallway table and
caught a brief glimpse of her reflection in the mirror that hung above it. She
paused, keeping her eyes on her things on the table before slowly lifting her
head to look in the mirror. She knew she would see what she didn’t want to see:
herself.

Kim’s makeup had run as a result of her dash through the
rain, and the tracks left by the water and the running mascara gave the
illusion that she was even older than she actually was. So much for the claims
that her new skin care line would erase years. She had just celebrated turning
50, but she was feeling much older. Kim ran her fingers under her eyes to
smooth the makeup and skin. Where had all these wrinkles come from?

The doorbell rang. Quickly smoothing out the rest of her
makeup with her hands, Kim turned to answer the door. Always careful to check
first, she could see a package delivery man when she looked out the window at
the side of the door.

“Hello,” Kim said, as she opened the door and looked through
the space left by the still-attached chain.

“Hi,” the delivery man said. “Are you Mrs. Powell?”

“I am.” Kim looked down at the box that sat on a dolly next
to the man. The box was of significant size and stood higher than the man’s
waist. It didn’t have any markings on it to provide clues to its contents or
origin. Her mind raced to remember if she’d ordered anything, but knew she
would never have sent for anything that would come in a box that size. “Are you
sure that box is for me?” Who would send her something that large?

“Pretty sure,” the man said, handing her a clipboard with a
delivery receipt on it through the space made by the open door. “Look it over
and if it looks all right, just sign at the bottom. There’s a packing slip on
the box if you need to send it back. I just deliver.”

Kim unhooked the chain and opened the door. She looked over
the sheet. The address on it was hers. The sheet, like the box, didn’t have any
evidence of where the package was from or who had sent it. She would have to
accept it and open the packing slip attached to the box after the man left. Kim
signed the receipt and handed it back to the man.

“Thanks,” the man said, taking the clipboard back. He moved
behind the box and pulled the dolly back, rolling its two wheels across the
threshold. “Where do you want it?”

“Bring it inside, if you don’t mind,” Kim said, opening the
door as wide as it would go. “You can place it in here next to that small
table.”

The man rolled the box into her front foyer next to the
small hallway table where she’d put her purse. Leaving the box on the dolly, he
turned back toward the front door and closed it. Before she had a chance to
process what was going on, he quickly grabbed her, pulled her toward him and
then to the ground. Kim, now lying on the floor, struggled to pull herself away
from him. The man forced Kim’s arms down to her sides and, straddling her, he
kneeled on them. She screamed. With his hands now free, the man placed them on
either side of Kim’s face and positioned his eyes over hers. Kim continued to
struggle under the weight he was exerting on her. She tried to scream but the
pressure of the man’s body on her chest prevented her from releasing more than
a yelp.

Kim squirmed under the man, trying to break her head free
from his grip. He increased his pressure on either side of her face. Kim’s eyes
linked with the man’s. She looked into them and lost consciousness.

Kim felt herself slowly awakening. She was still in a state
of sleep paralysis; her mind was awake but not her body. She attempted to move
her hands or open her eyes but was unable to do so. Despite her inability to
move, she could hear the voices of others in the room.

“We’ll wait until she’s conscious and then we can proceed,”
a man’s voice said.

“I wanna try it,” another man said, “I’m beginning to think
that it’s not the killing serum at all, but Rahul. Let me try and we can make
sure.”

“You’ll get yourself severed for talking like that.” The
first man walked around the table where Kim could hear him working with some
glass bottles. “Seth said Rahul was to be the first. We collected her because
she’s a closer match for him. If we want this to work, we have to make sure
we’re syncing with the most compatible matches.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll just hang around forever until the Body
thinks I deserve to be rewarded.” A short-lived silence filled the room. “Wait
a minute, I think she’s waking up.”

Kim could feel her paralysis wearing off and she gasped for
breath. As she opened her eyes she belatedly realized it may have been a better
idea to pretend she was still asleep. She was lying on a metal table in a room
similar to a hospital operating room. She could see an IV connected to her arm,
and hoped the liquid in the bag was only saline.