Life, A.D.

by Michelle E. Reed

  “What matter is it when we go? What difference would be made by the addition of time?”

  “You’ve got me there.” I struggle to rein in my nervous energy. “What the hell. Let’s go.”

  “Excellent.”

  The black of the night is total; the lantern’s electric glow cuts only a small path through the darkness. I stick close by Bobby’s side, tethered to him by a sense of unease. Despite being a night owl, I’ve always felt nighttime carries danger and a sad sense of solitude. Maybe the quiet amplifies the things that go bump in the night.

  I’m startled by a strange, shrill howl from deep in the woods and grab Bobby’s arm. “What is that?”

  “Chupacabra. They feed on souls. Quite common, actually.”

  “What?”

  Bobby puts his hand up to his mouth to stifle a laugh.

  “Oh, great, Bobby. You’ve picked a hell of a time to start with the jokes.”

  “My most humble apologies, Dez. Consider it a lapse in judgment I shall not repeat.” He looks back over his shoulder before we head deep into the densely wooded area at the edge of the park, where he stops.

  “Would you be so kind as to hold this for a moment?” He hands me the lantern and I hold it up while he opens his messenger bag. He pulls out two hoodies and hands the smaller one to me. “Put that on,” he tells me.

  “What for?”

  He takes off his bag for a moment while he slips into his hoodie. “Our chances of encountering the City Guard are extremely slim, but a risk nonetheless. Long sleeves conceal our bracelets, preventing our identification as non-residents.”

  I pull on the too-large sweatshirt and have to roll up the sleeves so they don’t hang down over my hands. “I never would have thought of that.”

  “When you have made as many visits to the city as I, it’s a simple matter of trial and experimentation to eliminate as many potential pitfalls as one possibly can.”

  We push through the brush at the far side of the woods and follow a narrow but well-worn path through soft, low grass and up a sloping hill toward the city.

  “Looks like you’re not the only one who ignores the off-limits rule,” I say. “Lots of foot traffic.”

  “It is equally likely that I alone have made this path in my many visits over the years.”

  “You really think you’re the only one who comes here?”

  “As this is all a figment of my imagination, it would only make sense.”

  I let his presumptions slide, too distracted by our rapid approach to the city. Cresting the hill, we come to railroad tracks that look more like rollercoaster track laid flat on the ground. A low, electric hum grows louder as a train approaches. We stop to watch it breeze by, slicing through the darkness with incredible speed and barely a sound.

  “That’s a little different than the ones we come in on,” I say.

  “Quite. It is part of the commuter line that moves about the city, transporting its residents from place to place. It is both swift and convenient.”

  Once across the tracks, we arrive at the outer limits of the city, which spreads out before us, climbing up the foothills toward the mountain looming in the distance. The city sprawls out in a jumble of organized chaos like a Dr. Seuss illustration come to fruition.

  A cobblestone street leads away from the tracks and up a smallish hill, crowded on either side with buildings that seem to have no semblance of order. An enormous, angular Victorian house butts up against a modern loft, and a medieval inn, thatched roof and all, sits next to a 1950s diner. Most remarkably, a building that has the distinct appearance of a convent shares an adjoining wall with a pulsating nightclub. A line outside snakes down the block, each reveler waiting for the cartoonishly muscled bouncer to allow them past the velvet rope and into Club Bromios.

  “Wow,” I say, breathless.

  Bobby smiles. “Indeed.”

  “Why do the adults get all this?”

  “With regard to the city and its environs, the Atman Council seems to have taken the approach of a parent appeasing petulant children with a great deal of toys. They hold an uneasy truce with a multitude of individuals who exist in a stasis of sorts, not allowed to move on, but not considered irredeemable enough for eternal damnation.” He holds up his hand like a waiter with a tray and gestures toward the city spreading out before us. “And this is their playground.”

  “But what about the adults like us who are working on letting go? Why are they here in the city?”

  “Transitional adults are segregated in housing sectors far separated from all this. They, too, are forbidden from traveling outside of the confines of authorized precincts.” He clicks off the lantern and stows it in his bag. “But they are of no consequence to our journey. Where would you like to go first?”

  “Uh … ” I shake my head, still marveling. “I have no idea.” What lies before us must be a tiny fragment of what the city holds. “Where do you usually go?”

  “My usual spot will not make a good first impression, I’m afraid. We shall save that for another night. As this is your introductory visit to this fair city, I suggest we begin with a walking tour of the neighborhood, and you can decide what you’d like to do first.”

  “Well now, we’ll definitely have to come back. I want to see this mystery spot of yours.”

  We head up the cobblestone street toward the crest of the hill, crossing at the diner and ending our walking tour before it even begins. The scent of hamburgers and fries wafts into the street, setting my stomach rumbling and my mouth watering. “Oh,” I groan. “I would kill for a milkshake.”

  “By all means.” Bobby steps up to the entrance. Bells hanging above the entryway ring as he holds the door open for me.

  Black-and-white checkered linoleum polished to a high sheen reflects our silhouettes as we enter The Amaranth Diner. I stop at the glowing neon Wurlitzer jukebox by the door. My fingers run across the song selection buttons, and a pang of homesickness hits me, one so powerful it nearly knocks me from my feet.

  “She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” A platinum blond with a bouffant hairdo and a blue gingham apron holds a pair of menus in her hands. Her plastic nametag informs us she’s Vera.

  “My grandparents have one just like it in their rec room,” I say.

  “Grandparents?” Vera smiles, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “My, how time does fly.” She looks to Bobby. “You want to sit at the counter, or would y’all like a booth? We don’t discriminate here,” she says kindly.

  “How positively liberated of you,” Bobby says.

  Bewildered, I grab his arm and pull him back toward the door. He holds up a finger and tells Vera, “If you would be so kind as to indulge us for one moment.”

  “Take your time, kids,” she says. “The booth or table dilemma is never an easy one to sort.”

  “She thinks there’s still segregation?” I whisper.

  Bobby leans in and whispers back. “City residents understand the concept of time passing without them, but in practical application, the idea can be rather elusive.”

  “This place gets weirder and weirder by the minute,” I mutter as I follow Bobby back to the counter.

  Vera beams at our return. “So, have you decided?”

  “Booth,” I say. “Stools always make me feel like I’m going to fall off.”

  She laughs. “Me too, hon’.” She leads us through the empty diner to a spot by the window and hands us the menus.

  “I don’t know about you, Bobby, but I don’t need this.” I slide the menu back across the table to Vera. “Can you just bring me the greasiest, saltiest, most delicious thing you have?”

  “You got it.”

  “And a milkshake?”

  “What flavor?” she asks. “We got butterscotch, cherry, chocolate, peppermint, strawberry, and vanilla.”

  “Butterscotch. Definitely.” My stomach growls in agreement.

  “I’ll have the same,” Bobby says.

  “That’ll be up in a jiffy,”
she tells us. She grabs the menus and heads for the counter.

  “Imagine that,” I say once we’re alone. “Waitressing through eternity. I wonder why?”

  “Unparalleled people-watching.”

  “I’m hooked,” I say, taking in the vintage surroundings. “I see why you spend so much time here.”

  “And this, to borrow a tired metaphor, is but the tip of the iceberg.”

  Vera returns in a few minutes with two butterscotch shakes and two cheeseburger platters heaped with fries. “Here you go. The greasiest, saltiest, most delicious thing we have.” She puts the plates down and leans in close. “Just to let you know, we got a couple of City Guard officers who are Monday night regulars. Should be here in half an hour.”

  “Enjoy,” she says before walking away.

  “What’s that mean?” I ask.

  “It seems our evening shall be cut short. After we finish this bountiful feast, it would be wise to make haste to the dormitory. The City Guard are not individuals we wish to encounter, especially so soon after your arrival. They bring with them an enforcement power and a great deal of complications.”

  “But what about our sweatshirts?” I hold up my covered wrist.

  “They are meant only to diminish the risk of attracting attention, and are not intended to pass close inspection.”

  “But we just got here.”

  “And certainly need to return without delay.” He smiles and pops a fry in his mouth. “Have no fear, Dez; your visits have only begun.”

  My heart sinks, but my stomach demands satisfaction. We dive into our food, making quick work of the heaping platters before slipping unnoticed from the diner.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Hannah climbs out of bed and heads for the bathroom with fresh clothes. She stops when she sees me on the couch.

  “You’re back.”

  I hold my hands up. “Unscathed.”

  “So you got lucky.”

  “Not luck, Hannah. It was amazing. And I barely got to see anything.”

  She sits down on her chair. Her clothes are in a neat stack on her lap, and her hands are folded on top of them. “But at least you got it out of your system, right?”

  I scoot forward on the couch, right up to the edge. “I’m going to ask Bobby to take me again tonight.”

  “Dez, you can’t.” She takes in the sweeping view that our picture window affords. “I know the city is beautiful, but you have to let it go. You need to focus on getting through the steps to get out of here. You go back there and you’re going to end up just like Bobby.”

  “Bobby is amazing. He’s brilliant, he’s funny, and he makes being here bearable.”

  “Well, I’m sorry your time with Charlie and me is so unbearable, but you’re leaving out one thing about Bobby: he’s stuck here. Probably forever.”

  “You have no idea what you’re missing. If you come with us tonight, you’ll see what I mean.”

  “You need to stop and listen to yourself. This is not the path you want to go down, believe me.”

  “Believe you? What have you ever done? How can you know that your way is better if you’ve never tried anything else?”

  “I can’t talk to you if you refuse to listen to reason.” Hannah heads for the bathroom without another word.

  “We’re going to mix things up a bit today,” Franklin announces at the start of Partnership Path to Progress. “Just as in life, adversarial relationships are unavoidable in the close quarters of our dormitory afterlife. Avoidance simply isn’t an option, so we’re going to face the issue head-on.” He grabs two wooden chairs and places them a few feet apart, facing each other.

  “The new kids get all the breaks, right?” he asks the group. “Not today. Herc, Dez, front and center.”

  “Not happening,” Herc says, and, for once, I agree with him.

  “Not asking.” Franklin points to the chair. “Take a seat.”

  Neither Herc nor I move.

  “I can have RPS here in less than five minutes.”

  His threat is enough to get me to my feet. I make my way to the designated chair and sit, the displeased center of attention.

  “Thank you, Dez,” Franklin says. “Herc?” He sounds almost cheerful. “Last chance. And you know quite well what comes next.”

  The look of defiance seems permanently etched on Herc’s face, his scowl a constant reminder of his perpetual hateful mood. I have to give him credit for being a master of timing, though. He waits until the last possible second, when Franklin is about to call for backup, and skulks over to the vacant chair. “Go to hell.”

  Franklin smiles. “I’m afraid that decision has already been made, and the answer is a resounding ‘no.’”

  Herc drops into the seat.

  “Since you were the last to join us, you get to be the first to go.” Franklin glances down at a notebook. “Let’s begin on a positive note. I want you to say something nice about Dez. Why don’t you share one of her good qualities with us?”

  “This is a load of crap.”

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion. I asked you to share a good quality Dez has.”

  “Fine.” Herc looks at me with pure hate. “Right now her mouth is shut, so that’s good.”

  In a sudden and swift move, I kick his chair, surprising myself almost as much as I surprise him. My foot hits the frame dead center and sends him sprawling. He lands on his back with a crash, and I jump to my feet.

  Herc gets up and lunges at me. “You’re going to regret that.”

  Franklin holds him back with his free hand. “That’s enough! Both of you, knock it off.” He turns to Charlie, who wears the same stunned look as everyone else. “Walk Herc back to your suite. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He takes a step closer to me, positioning himself right in my face. “Go cool off. You may return to the floor when you can control yourself.”

  Since I’m already in trouble, I decide I may as well see what Crosby wants. I make my way down to the lobby and out into Jhana Park, heading for the admin building.

  What was Crosby’s note about? What is he going to say when he hears what just happened? How much worse can they make it for me?

  The doors to the SGA placement office slide open. Gritting my teeth, I approach Crosby’s desk.

  His eyes brighten. “Hey, kiddo. It’s about time you showed up.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

  “What’s with you?” he asks.

  “Nothing.” I stare at the floor.

  “You’re a terrible liar.” He pushes back from his computer and taps his ear. “Lillie?” he says into the air. “Can you keep an eye on things for me? Thanks.” He comes around his desk to me.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Crosby,” I whine.

  “The path to self-destruction is paved with ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Come on.” He leads me out of the office and back into the hallway. We walk down the corridor in silence. He takes us through a succession of quick turns—right, left, right, right—as the hallways narrow.

  “You sure you know where you’re going?” I ask. “This place makes me feel like a rat in a maze.”

  “You want my advice? Get used to it.”

  “If there’s cheese at the end, you can have it. I’m from the Dairy State. I’ve had my fill.”

  Crosby stops before a metal door and punches a code into a keypad on the wall.

  “What’s up with all the keypads, anyway? There a big risk of us kids breaking into offices and lounges and gaining unauthorized access to comfy furniture or something?”

  He frowns, giving me that disapproving look of his—irritation, with a hint of amusement. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

  “Yet I can’t get a decent answer out of anyone.”

  He opens the door to a small room furnished with a single couch, a couple of chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows boasting breathtaking views of the city.

  “That’s really nice,” I grumble, flopping ont
o a couch. “Don’t you dare go to the city, but we’re going to taunt you with it every chance we get.”

  Crosby pulls up a chair and parks himself right in front of me. “Okay, spill it.”

  I cross my arms. “You first. What’s with the note?”

  “Fair enough,” he concedes. “All I have to say is: be careful.”

  “The time for careful was Saturday morning when my phone rang.”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Actually, I have no idea.”

  Crosby leans forward in his chair. “Fine, play coy. I have it on good authority that you and Bobby were spending some time together yesterday.”

  “Oh, your ‘little bird’ told you? Did they mention it was during free time, which, last I checked, is ours to do what we want with so long as we aren’t breaking the rules?”

  “Just be careful,” Crosby warns me. “Bobby is a nice kid, but he’s like quicksand. Don’t get stuck. He’s also extremely persuasive, because how can you argue with someone that smart? Just don’t let him put any ideas in your head.”

  “Look, Crosby, I’m not some 1930s housewife who needs a man to guide her. I can think for myself.”

  Anger flares in his eyes. “And you’re also not some world-worn veteran of life who knows what lurks in the shadows around here, so get over yourself. I’m trying to help you.”

  He lets me stew in my righteous anger until I finally speak up. “So that’s it? Be careful? Stay on the straight and narrow? Duly noted.”

  His expression softens. “Look, I know how hard this is, but I believe in you. You have every ability to breeze through this and get on with your afterlife. I just want to help you steer clear of obstacles that will slow you down.”

  “Like Bobby?”

  “Exactly. Don’t lose your focus, and let us help you.”

  I slump down in the couch. “Fine.”

  “Now tell me what else is going on.”

  Exhausted from fighting Atman and its inhabitants, I give in and tell him about my latest scuffle with Herc.

  His parting advice, “Try not to get in any more fights today,” seems woefully inadequate. He sends me on my way back to the dorms with the promise that we’ll talk again soon.