AfterLife

by S. P. Cloward

  In addition, those who were found to be potential candidates but resisted the opportunity to serve in the Mortuis army could be promised a body again once their service was complete. An individual who qualified for army recruitment was not given an explanation or a choice; they were made a Mortui as quickly as possible by the recruiters. Take what you need, promise what they want, give only what’s convenient. That was Seth’s philosophy. It had always worked for him and the Body in the past – he saw no reason for change.

  “Seth, sir,” a voice came from behind.

  Seth turned from the window toward the voice. It was Blake. Blake was a short man but had been a college football player in life, giving him bulk that made up for his height.

  “The possession was successful sir,” Blake said. “We were able to put Rahul into the antemort.”

  This was what Seth had been waiting to hear. “Thank you Blake. Let Doc know I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Blake turned and walked out of the room. Seth watched the fog for a few more minutes and thought about what this meant to the organization. With the ability to offer a second chance to inhabit a living body Atumra’s numbers would soar, as would their grip on antemort society. It was the Body’s goal to increase its grasp and power over antemort society. After all, Mortuis had ruled many civilizations in the past, and it was time to do so again. Seth was happy he would have good news to report.

  When he arrived in the possession room in the subterranean floors of the building, Seth found Doc, a thin gray-haired man, working on the antemort’s body that now possessed Rahul’s soul. Rahul was unconscious but the instruments that were attached to him indicated that he was definitely alive.

  As Seth entered the room, Doc looked up from what he was doing. “Blake and Jezebel have disposed of Rahul’s old body. The possession definitely took hold.”

  “How long before he’s conscious,” Seth asked.

  “Could be a few hours,” Doc answered. “I have to make sure the killing serum is out of his system before he’ll be able to leave. He’ll need to eat as soon as he awakens. Though I haven’t worked on a living body in some time, I know it’s going to be a few days before he’ll be in good enough health to be left on his own.”

  “Thank you, Doc. I’m sure we can get him something to eat from the bakery.” Seth walked over to the body that lay on the table. Antemorts were so vulnerable. Rahul’s new body exhibited the appearance of strength; he had possessed a strong-looking black man. Seth knew looks could be deceiving. Rahul’s life could be ended in a matter of seconds.

  However, now was not the time for Rahul to die. He would stay alive long enough for others craving this reward to see the successful completion of the project, thus guaranteeing their loyalty. He also didn’t want anyone to suspect foul play. Rahul would be eliminated; the only question was when. That decision was ultimately up to the Body; Seth reported to them even though they were a thousand miles away and he was the authority here in Chicago. However, once he was given the go ahead, he would take great pleasure in finding a creative way to eliminate him. It would be extremely painful. A man so anxious to feel should be experiencing the height of that sensation as he was separated from his possessed body. Seth would take great pleasure in making sure he did.

  “Have you fully documented the process?” Seth walked from the table that held Rahul’s new body to a small table that held vials of the serum.

  “Yes sir,” Doc said, making notes in a small pad. “Once I’m done here, I’ll make sure a detailed report of the procedure is typed up for you.”

  Seth picked up one of the small vials and examined it. “And we have the whole process on video as well?”

  “Yes. It will all be in the completed report. The process should be easily duplicated by other Atumra clans now that we have the recipe for the serum perfected.”

  “Good. Let me know the minute he wakes up,” Seth said to Doc as he looked again at Rahul. “I’ll go notify the Body of our success.”

  Seth left the room in the basement of the building, an area they appropriately called the catacombs, and returned to his office on the sixth floor. He sat at his desk for a few minutes looking at the telephone, then picked up the receiver and dialed a number. The phone rang only a moment before it was answered.

  “Have you done it,” the voice asked without any greeting. It was a deep, gritty voice.

  “Yes, we’ve been successful.”

  “Now that we have what we need I trust you will provide your research for examination by other Atumra groups. This process is instrumental to our plans.” The voice was authoritative but not demanding.

  “Yes, my Body.” The voice at the other end of the line changed from time to time but Seth always addressed the receiver the same. It didn’t matter who he was talking to, the Body was a collective force and speaking to one member was like speaking to all of them at once. Seth’s position as head of the entire midsection of the United States didn’t even entitle him the privilege of knowing who was a member of the Body. The Body simply existed and had for as long as the Atumra was in existence.

  The line went dead as the Body disconnected the call from its end. Seth rotated in his chair and looked out one of the nearby windows. The fog started to thin as the first signs of morning became evident on the buildings across the street. It had been a good night for the Atumra.

  Chapter 11

  It was daytime in the Magic Kingdom as Wes made his way through his park. There were no people, but Wes enjoyed the solitude. It gave him a place to organize his thoughts, a pleasant seclusion where he was in control and could come and go as he chose.

  He made his way to Liberty Square where he boarded the Liberty Belle Riverboat. There was something very nostalgic about the vessel. Wes couldn’t decide if it was because it represented a simpler time in history or if it was tied to memories of being here as a child with his dad and brother. It could have been a little of both that drew him to the white steam-driven ship, but regardless, it was a nice place to think about his new existence as a Mortui.

  Two whistles blew and ripples formed in the water radiating from the ship’s sides as it pulled away from the dock. There was no audio track because Wes couldn’t remember it enough to duplicate it, but from the upper deck of the Liberty Belle he was pleased with how much of the park had been successfully re-created from memory. He could see the southern end of Tom Sawyer Island as the boat made its way around the first bend of the Rivers of America. This was a good place to be when he meditated. “One day I’ll add guests,” Wes said aloud to the park as if it could hear him. He would have to go back and visit the real place before he could do that. There were still a lot of details that needed to be added to his mental creation.

  Wes’s thoughts turned to his night at the bar with Emily and the unexpected sync with her afterward. He dreaded a life of feeding off antemorts. It was a difficult concept to accept, but if he could reconnect with antemorts and somehow repay them for the time he took, would that make it easier to feed? After all, improving antemort life was AfterLife’s purpose, wasn’t it? This could be his way to give back. There were a couple of immediate problems with his plan, though. First, would he be able to keep up with it by remembering every antemort he synced with? Second, while they were synced he would have to remember to look for mental images that could be fixed. Well, he would do his best. It was a way to give his extended life meaning. If only he could sync with his brother he could find some immediate peace of mind.

  Wes found himself thinking again of Jezebel. She was a Mortui the entire time he knew her and he never suspected. Then again, he never knew such a thing as a Mortui existed. Had his feelings for her changed at all with the information he’d been given by Anne Marie? Had Jez only been trying to recruit him, or had there been something more between them? She still occasionally intruded into his thoughts, and now he understood how it was possible to connect with a person on levels beyond the biological one. Wes began to laugh. The term “sou
l mate” was definitely a valid one.

  As quick as the laugh came, however, it vanished. The Jez he was finding out about couldn’t be his soul mate. She was part of the Atumra, a Truly Dead as Emily referred to them. The girl he knew, worked with, and had come to admire was an imposter; the feelings he developed were for someone who didn’t exist.

  Emily, on the other hand, was real. He didn’t even have to think about it. He knew he was fortunate to be spending his first days as a Mortui with her. She cared about him and he trusted her. Their friendship was important to him, and he found himself looking forward to the time they spent together. He never wanted to let her down. She’d said he was one of the “good guys,” and if Emily thought he was a good guy, he would be better than even she thought he was. In death, Wes was going to make a new beginning.

  The riverboat was traveling along the back side of the island and the scenery was mostly trees and animatronic animals. The ears of a deer twitched back and forth as the river boat passed. Wes walked along the teakwood deck to the rear of the ship and leaned against the whitewashed railing. The paddlewheel churned the water as it pushed the boat along its path and left a trail of bubbles behind it. There were still a lot of questions he had about Mortuis, and Wes wondered how much of this would be covered in his training with Emily.

  “Wes.” Emily’s voice came over the speakers on the boat.

  Wes looked around expecting to see her, wondering if his thoughts caused him to unintentionally sync with her again. She wasn’t there, so he figured this was his cue to come out of meditation. He pushed the images of the Magic Kingdom away and opened his eyes. Emily stood over him.

  “How was Disney World?” She sat down next to Wes who sat up on his cot.

  “It was nice,” Wes answered, giving her a smile. He felt rested. Coming out of meditation was nothing like waking up from a deep sleep. He was immediately alert and didn’t have the slight confusion associated with being pulled from a dream.

  Emily’s attire was different. She now sported a pair of jeans and a fitted green shirt that made her hazel eyes look more green than brown.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Wes said, now they were both back to reality. He wanted to confirm that the sync actually happened. “I honestly didn’t know I had traveled into your mind.”

  “You couldn’t have known, could you? I didn’t even know it was possible.”

  “So we really did sync? I didn’t imagine the whole thing?”

  Emily nodded. “It happened. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it, but it really did happen.”

  Any lingering doubts about the realness of his sync with Emily subsided and Wes’s thoughts turned to his sync with Vanessa. His presence in Emily’s mind could only lead to the conclusion that the conversation with Vanessa also took place. It wasn’t a creation of his mind as he originally thought. There were some unanswered questions though. If he could sync with both Emily and Vanessa, what prevented him from being able to sync with his brother? Maybe Vanessa had been sleeping and his brother hadn’t. Even Emily had been in meditation. Or maybe it was because he had synced before with both girls; maybe he could only connect with people he had already synced with once. That made sense. The connection between the minds had already been made, and his mind simply found its way back.

  “We have a big day ahead of us.” She placed the arm closest to Wes around his shoulders and pulled him toward her in a semi-hug. “We’ll do some training here for a little while and then we’re moving to our new place. Excited, little brother?”

  Wes laughed at the pleasure Emily seemed to be getting from acting like the big sister. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head, “you’re just too friendly to be my sister.”

  “Oh?” Emily pushed Wes away and stood up folding her arms. “Well, how’s this? Get your behind out of bed cause we’ve got work to do. Is that more to your liking?”

  “Definitely closer to how a sister would treat her brother.”

  “And how would you know? I’ll have you know that I did have a brother, and I was never rude to him, but I can do mean and bossy if that’s what you want.” Emily walked over to the closet and pulled out a new set of clothes and threw them at Wes. “Get cleaned up and changed. I don’t want you getting in the habit of wearing the same clothes every day. You might not sweat, but your body still gets dirty.”

  “I was only joking, Emily. You could never really do mean. Bossy maybe, but not mean.”

  “Just get dressed.” Emily turned, walked to the door, and opened it. “I’ll meet you in the Den. Oh, and just so you know, big sisters are always right.” She winked at Wes and closed the door.

  Wes showered in an adjacent bathroom and changed into the clothes Emily picked out for him. For the first time since his death, he had a minor sense of touch. He could feel his old shirt sliding off his skin, a faint sense of water touching him as he showered, and the brush of the fabric of the new shirt as he put it on. He rubbed his hands together as he concentrated on the rediscovered sensations. The intensity of feeling was nowhere near as strong as it was when he was alive, but it was definitely there and more obvious since its absence. He took his time as he experimented with the sensations.

  Emily wasn’t alone in the Den when Wes arrived. She was sitting on the couch where she had been the day before, but there were two other people with her who Wes had never met before. Emily noticed Wes immediately. “Wes, this is Daemon and this is Aimee.” Emily put her crochet to the side and stood up. “Guys, this is our newest recruit, Wes.”

  “Ah yes. Glad to meet you, Wes. We got word we had a new member.” Daemon stood and shook Wes’s hand. He appeared to be a few years younger than Wes, probably in his early 20s. His dark brown skin and blue eyes gave the impression that he was of mixed heritage. He smiled at Wes with a boyish grin. “Aimee and I are up from St. Louis.”

  “Hi Wes,” Aimee said, also standing to shake Wes’s hand. She was a few inches shorter than Daemon who was just shorter than Wes’s 6 feet. “How has your transition been so far?”

  “Not bad, I guess. I just discovered I can feel things again.” Wes rubbed his hands together.

  Daemon laughed. “I see Emily’s taken you for your first feeding.”

  “Yes, we only got back a few hours ago,” Emily said to Daemon and then turned to Wes. “The connection with your body will always be a little stronger right after you’ve fed. Don’t focus on it too much; touch uses more energy than the other senses.”

  Wes nodded, but continued to rub his hands together wondering how long he would be able to feel them before he lost the sensation.

  “When do you guys head out for Wes’s training?” Aimee asked, sitting back down. The rest of the group took her lead and also sat on the couches.

  “Tomorrow, hopefully.” Emily started collecting her crocheting into her fabric bag. “We have some exercises to do at the training center today.”

  Wes wondered what was on the syllabus for that day’s training session.

  Aimee pulled a small circular mirror out from her purse and started checking her dark black hair that she had pulled up and back out of her face. “Where are they sending you?”

  “Charleston. I haven’t done a training there before, so I’m looking forward to it,” Emily said.

  “Isn’t that where you did your training,” Aimee asked, turning to Daemon. She was now using the mirror to check her eye make-up. She patted one of her eyelids smoothing the eye shadow over her dark skin. “You haven’t been with us very long either.”

  “No, I was in Olney.” The boyish grin came across Daemon’s face again. “And what are you talking about, not being here long. I died four years ago.”

  “You’re still a baby by our standards,” said Aimee. She closed the mirror and put it in her purse.

  “How long ago did you die?” Wes asked Aimee.

  “I died trying to jump onto a moving train during the Depression. The world was a different place then, that’s for su
re.”

  It was tough for Wes to believe that Aimee had been dead that long. She, like Daemon, appeared to be in her early 20s. You’d think by now he would be getting used to the deceptive appearance of age; Emily’s death age had been just as much of a shock to him.

  “Well, are we ready?” Emily stood up and motioned to the others. “Now that Wes is up, I’m sure the Ancestors will want to see us.”

  “Sure thing,” Daemon said as he stood and turned to help Aimee up. He grinned at Wes. “You must be special to be invited to a meeting with the Ancestors so soon after your death.”

  Wes wasn’t sure what Daemon was talking about. He certainly didn’t feel special. He was doing what Emily told him to do, and if Emily said to attend the meeting, he would go.

  “Don’t hate, Daemon,” Aimee said, leading the way out of the Den.

  They walked down the hall and through the doors that led to the Ancestor’s office. Anne Marie, along with three men who were strangers to Wes, were all conversing in the circular sitting area in the middle of the room. Conversation stopped, and the three men stood as Anne Marie introduced Wes to them. From their semi-casual attire, Wes found it slightly humorous that they were called the Ancestors.

  Caleb was the first to shake Wes’s hand. He was at least 6 inches taller than Wes, and the rest of his build matched his height. His blond hair was slicked back and appeared as if each individual hair had been meticulously arranged. His handshake was firm and his greeting was spoken with a heavy British accent.

  Wes was then introduced to William, a short but strong-looking black man. Wes estimated his living age to be mid-40s, giving the impression that he was the oldest of the Ancestors, but Wes was not about to let this deceive him.

  The third Ancestor was Zachariah, and Wes was encouraged to call him Zach. His shoulder-length black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He spoke little, but when he did it was with a strong Spanish accent that Wes had difficulty placing as coming from either South America or Spain.