AfterLife

by S. P. Cloward

  Ken snickered at Wes. “Don’t worry yourself. You kids are always worrying yourselves over these things.”

  “I will worry myself. What have you noticed?”

  “I have only observed trivial things. For example, when we sync to work on your amusement park, you always speak of how much you think Emily will be pleased with what you’ve done or created. When was the last time you took her to that lovely park of yours?” Ken lifted his right eyebrow and gave Wes a quick glance over his thin-rimmed glasses.

  “She hasn’t seen it since before we moved here,” Wes said. “It isn’t ready. If we do anything that requires us to soul-sync we’re always in a neutral place, usually in the nothingness.”

  They left Charleston city limits. The corn and soy in the fields lay barren after the harvests, and vast stretches of dirt and brown plant remains were visible on either side of the narrow two-lane road. Having been born and raised a city boy, Wes never realized how lifeless the rest of the state looked in the fall and winter.

  “Would you consider you and young Emily good friends, Mr. Wes?” Ken held the steering wheel with both hands to keep it steady. The small car vibrated as it was navigated around the pothole-riddled country road.

  “Yeah,” Wes answered, “I’d consider her more of a friend than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “That, young man, is the basis of the best relationships. I am sure someone as brilliant as you will realize that upon further reflection of your feelings for young Emily. Never be afraid of what you discover when you truly examine your thoughts. We will arrive at the Hub in a short while. I look forward to showing you how Ops works today.”

  Ken was a master of conversation as Wes quickly discovered during his interactions with the man. He would open a topic for discussion, get Wes to volunteer information he didn’t intend to reveal, give a short snippet of advice, and change the subject without Wes even realizing what had happened until after the topic was already changed. Today the topic had gone from his interest in Emily to the purpose of their training for the day.

  The discussion for the remainder of the drive to the Hub was centered on how Wes would defend himself if he was pulled into a soul-sync with a Mortui trying to harm him. It seemed to be Ken’s favorite topic. Every time Wes showed him the progress he was making on his Magic Kingdom, Ken would offer ideas for traps Wes could incorporate into the design that another Mortui would never expect. They were usually good ideas and because Wes trusted Ken he always followed his advice and implemented them.

  Living in rural Illinois was beginning to be a strain on Wes. Making so many adjustments in such a short amount of time was difficult, and the sudden drastic changes left him feeling as empty as the vast stretches of dry fields surrounding him. Everything he thought he knew about life and death had been rendered obsolete when he became a Mortui.

  Of course, it wasn’t all bad – there were some things he looked forward to. He liked working on his park with Ken and he enjoyed the time he and Emily spent with Ken and Carol, Ken’s partner and wife. He even enjoyed most of his training. More than anything, he hated that he was forced to get a minimum wage sales job at a department store just to learn how to live among antemorts as a Mortui, but he kept reminding himself that this was all temporary, and any time he didn’t spend at work was spent with Emily. The time they spent together made up for all the negative changes in Wes’s world. Ken was right. She was more than just a friend.

  Talking with Ken made time pass quickly. It wasn’t long before the rattling old car made it to the Hub and they were parked in the underground garage. Wes looked at all the other cars that were available. He knew they could take any one they wanted when they left. He knew, too, that Ken wouldn’t abandon his Volkswagen and the drive back to Charleston would take place in the dilapidated vehicle. The car worked for Ken, and eliminated any questions that might be asked if someone saw a semi-retired college professor driving one of the flashy or more expensive vehicles housed in the garage.

  Wes and Ken exited the garage and headed for Ops. Wes had met Oscar on one previous occasion, right before he and Emily left the Hub for Charleston to begin his training. Oscar was a short chubby man with buzzed brown hair. His Puerto Rican accent was heavy and he spoke so fast Wes had to think quickly to keep up with what he was saying.

  “So, Wes, dis es Ops. How you like?” Oscar sat on a rolling chair in a room that looked like the control tower of a busy airport, except in place of the giant windows that would surround the room there were large computer monitors displaying everything from traffic camera footage and satellite images to large amounts of compiled data. On one screen, Wes could see a list of names followed by the geographic location of that person, what their current assignment was, and when he or she had last checked in with the Hub.

  Wes nodded. “It’s cool.”

  Oscar grinned, revealing a full mouth of white teeth that were each separated by a very small gap. He turned to Ken. “I’m en da middle of someding Ken. Es possible you give Wes what he needs to know?” Oscar rolled over to one of the computer consoles and began typing frantically on a keyboard while he talked into a microphone that hung down in front of his mouth from a headset.

  “Well, Mr. Wes, it seems the grand tour will be conducted by me today. I’ll do what I can to give you accurate information about the inner workings of Ops and then Oscar can fill in any gaps I may have left.” Ken smiled his wrinkled smile. “Let us start on the right side of the room and work our way around.” Ken pointed to two screens nearest to the door. “These first two consoles are to monitor all the Mortuis in our district. Oscar receives daily logs from each set of partners that are automatically processed through a database for documentation purposes. Such records were used differently a few months ago before the Ancestors changed the focus of AfterLife from one I liked to call a repayment program to one that is to counter the Atumra. However, I have come to see that in a sense even the new focus is a repayment program. We are working to help antemorts either way.”

  Wes watched the screens. The first screen displayed the reports as they were filed by each paired group. Names, nouns, and key phrases were highlighted by the system and on the second screen the highlighted text was cross-referenced with information from other daily reports, news articles, and references in online media sources. After watching the screen for a minute Wes turned to Ken. “What do you mean when you say repayment program?”

  “My dear Mr. Wes, that’s how we thank antemorts for the time they give us from their lives. It is the whole purpose of AfterLife. We do what we can to improve the lives of the living in exchange for allowing us to live ourselves. Haven’t you ever felt guilt for feeding off an antemort?”

  Wes thought about his attempt to help the girl from the bar. “Yes, I know what you’re talking about.”

  Ken nodded toward the screens. “This database is used to cross-reference antemorts that have been helped and what was done to improve their life. It could be something simple like paying a parking meter that was about to expire or helping someone change a tire. It could be a larger gesture like being a friend to someone who is going through a difficult time in his life. Once they’ve moved on the Mortui does too. Now that we are working to track movements of the Atumra and determine what they are up to, many of the reports are more focused on that task.

  “These next computers are for accessing external databases. We can get into any database that is connected to the internet by some means or another: government databases, hospitals, universities, businesses. The information is used only in a responsible manner. We also have members who have placed themselves in significant positions to ensure the flow of information we need is always available.

  “Continuing around the room, you see we can access satellite cameras as well as any camera that is networked to a more sophisticated system or that utilizes wireless connections to feed information to a larger computer. You look confused, Mr. Wes.”

  Realizing his confusion must have
been evident on his face, Wes relaxed his brow that was wrinkled up in thought. “I guess I don’t understand the reasoning behind all this technology. Why would we need any of this?”

  “For communication and information. It provides a network that allows every member of AfterLife to be connected to the larger whole. It allows us to keep track of one another and our members who report to the other Hubs around the globe.” Ken looked around the room for a pair of chairs that he and Wes could sit on. “Information and communication is the key to any organization’s success, Mr. Wes, and keys unlock doors of opportunities.” He pulled a couple of rolling stools out from under the counter that ran around the perimeter of the room and pushed one over to Wes.

  “If we can access all this, what prevents the Atumra from doing the same thing?” Wes took the stool and sat down on it.

  “Ah yes, Mr. Wes, that’s a good observation. In truth, nothing prevents them from doing what we’ve done except them. In the past, the Atumra was driven more by the desire to feed than for self-actualization. Most of our technology and accessibility is a result of our desire to help members better themselves instead of focusing on their next sync with an antemort. However, the Atumra is changing. They have stolen many of our processes and procedures, and my feeling is that now they have access to much of the same information – at least the information that suits their purposes.”

  The thought was frightening. Wes didn’t know how dangerous the Atumra was, but if their philosophies were as negative as he had been led to believe, their ability to look into every aspect of antemort society was a scary concept. Anne Marie told him Jezebel had been sent to recruit him. Is this how they’d done it? Had Jez known everything about him before he’d even met her? Had she known he’d become a Mortui? It was more than possible, it was the most probable explanation. Since becoming a Mortui was genetic, how would they have known he would become a Mortui unless they had access to his DNA? Ken was right. They did have as much access as AfterLife did. Wes began to see the extent of the threat the Atumra posed and the difficulties involved in tracking the movements of an organization that might have the same technological advances – and didn’t want to be tracked.

  Oscar began talking louder into the microphone. His voice was stressed, and he was rolling his chair back and forth between computer screens. “I got jour location,” Oscar said into his headset. “I es tracking jou with satellite. Jou have the antemort in jour car?”

  Ken stopped his tour of Ops and rolled his stool over behind Oscar. “Can I assist you with this one Mr. Oscar?”

  “Please,” Oscar said, pointing to a headset sitting on the counter. “Es a headset. Join in.”

  Ken picked up the headset and put it on. “Aimee, Daemon, how are you? This is Ken Sato here helping Oscar.” There was silence as Ken nodded his head and listened to the voices through his headset. “I understand,” Ken said, “and what information do you need?” There was a pause as he listened. “That I can get.” He rolled over to one of the sets of screens and started typing on a keyboard on the counter below them. The screens flashed between different databases as he input information in the system. “How far behind you are they?” A pause and then, “Do they know you know they’re following you yet?” Another pause. “Well, that is fortunate, quite fortunate. You may be able to save this one if you can somehow get away from them.”

  The room was filled with tension as Ken and Oscar worked feverishly on the information system and kept up a running dialogue Wes could only hear half of. He remembered meeting Aimee and Daemon and wondered what kind of help they needed. They were obviously being pursued by some of Atumra’s soldiers. He remembered they were stationed in St. Louis, and by the look of the images on the screens above Oscar’s head, they must still be there. Whatever the situation was, they needed information fast.

  Ken stopped typing. “The antemort, or Kyle, is genetically inclined to become a Mortui so it doesn’t look like they are interested in him as a candidate for possession. They must be trying to recruit him. You must definitely try to shake them. The last thing we want is for them to end his life and add him to their ranks.” Ken started typing again.

  “Stay on the 270,” Oscar said. “See if jou can maneuver around some of the vehicles to lose them. Try not to let them know, but if you can pick up the speed a bit, in a few miles traffic picks up and there es a big truck with a windmill blade on it. Oversized load truck. Es may be good place to hide ’till jou can get to that exit jou need.”

  “That would be a good idea,” Ken said, looking over his shoulder at the monitors above Oscar’s head. One showed a map of the freeways and traffic around St. Louis while another showed a satellite image of Daemon and Aimee’s car, a simple four-door black sedan. They were on a busy six-lane freeway close to the heart of St. Louis with a cement divider in the median separating their three lanes from the three lanes being utilized by oncoming traffic. Ken pointed out the car the Atumra soldiers were driving, a white sports car about a quarter of a mile behind Daemon and Aimee and closing fast. “Be careful. I checked the vehicle’s registration and I don’t believe it belongs to Atumra, so I’m sure they won’t be opposed to abandoning or damaging it.”

  Wes could see the oversized load truck on one of the screens with the giant wind turbine blade strapped to its bed. It was in the far right lane, and because it wasn’t moving as fast as the rest of the traffic, it was causing a slight bottleneck on the freeway. He wondered what Daemon and Aimee had told the antemort to get him to go with them. It was possible they knew him from the life they were living in St. Louis. It was reasonable to believe that Daemon and Aimee’s passenger didn’t even realize he was such a hot commodity. Wes remembered the last time he had seen them at the Hub and they were told to get their new orders from Oscar. Was it to protect this antemort?

  Oscar spoke into the headset. “They must be noticing they might lose jou in the traffic, they es speeding up.”

  “Yes,” Ken said, “I only hope you can make it past that big truck before they catch up.”

  The three men in Ops stared at the screens and watched the black car weave in and out of traffic as it attempted to lose the white sports car, but this became harder to do as the congestion on the road increased. If they could just make it past the truck and get lost in the traffic, they should be able to break away from the Atumra car following them. Finally, they maneuvered the car next to the truck and then slowed as traffic became too dense to do any more passing. The Atumra car was behind them, traffic was bumper-to-bumper in all three lanes, and for a second it appeared they might be safe. Suddenly, and without warning, the car driven by the Atumra soldiers pulled onto the shoulder on the right side of the freeway and sped up until it was even with the truck.

  Ken, Oscar, and Wes watched in amazement and horror at what was unfolding on the screen. Even though the quality of the satellite footage wasn’t very clear, Wes could see the car, still on the shoulder, pull a little ahead of the truck. He could clearly see a window open and watched as the driver threw a small object that bounced on the road in front of the large semi; then the sports car sped ahead. Oscar screamed a warning into the headset as the object hit the front right side of the semi-truck, exploding and igniting the truck in flames.

  Swerving away from the blast, the truck smashed into the packed lanes of traffic, ramming a number of cars including the black sedan that was pushed backward. As the truck veered, the tires that were now in flames burst, and the truck, windmill blade and all, rolled onto its side cutting across all three lanes of traffic and scattering vehicles as if they were matchbox cars. A handful of vehicles ran into the truck and traffic quickly began to congest around it. In the middle of it all, just a few cars back from where the truck had rolled, sat the black sedan, its front end smashed. The scene of devastation they were viewing was horrific.

  With no other cars in its way, the white sports car doubled back on the now empty road and stopped just short of where the truck lay on its side. Two
people got out of the car and walked around the small space between the flaming semi and the concrete wall in the median. Climbing through the wreckage of scattered and burning cars piled up around and behind the fallen truck, and completely ignoring the hurt and injured around them, the two soldiers made their way to the black sedan.

  “Daemon,” Ken said into the headset, “are you okay? Can you hear me? They’re making their way to your car. Are the three of you able to get out?” There was a slight pause as Ken listened. “What about Aimee? … The whole dashboard? … The antemort, how is he? … How much blood? … Still breathing? … Well that’s good.”

  Watching the monitor as if transfixed, Wes wasn’t sure what was going on inside the car, but by the tone of Ken’s voice he knew it wasn’t good. Helplessly they watched as the two soldiers made their way to the car. One pulled something out of a pocket and shot out the back window. They pulled a figure from the back seat through the broken window. He must have been unconscious because one of the soldiers slung him over his shoulder and they made their way back to the white car and left the scene of the accident. Wes knew these soldiers didn’t really care if he was alive or dead. If he was still alive now, he wouldn’t be for long.

  “Well, what can jou do?” Oscar rolled his chair over to another computer and began working at its console. “No, es not jour fault,” he said quietly into his headset.

  “You both did extremely well,” Ken said to Daemon and Aimee. “Medical crews are already dispatched so they’ll help you out of the car. It will be difficult to get out of there on your own; you’d better go to the hospital with the emergency crews. We’ll monitor which hospital they take you to and Oscar will notify one of our nurses to be on the lookout for you.” Ken took off his headset and placed it down on the counter and turned to Wes as Oscar continued communicating with someone on his headset. “Both Daemon and Aimee’s bodies were badly damaged and will need to be repaired.” His voice was quiet, and his disappointment evident. Turning to Oscar he continued, “Did you see where the white car went?”