AfterLife

by S. P. Cloward

  The woman was old – decades old enough to know her behavior was crude and impolite. She started at the far end of the women’s shoes and worked her way down the rows. Style after style, she would pick up the display shoe and look at it. Her top lip arched up as she looked the shoes over through her thick, large-framed burgundy glasses. She couldn’t possibly be interested in all of them, but she moved them around nonetheless. Wes had seen it a thousand times. Women were messy shoe shoppers. Men were not. It seemed that every woman came in and tore through the aisles picking up every pair of shoes. Men stood back and looked at the selection from a distance until finding the one they wanted to examine closer. This customer was one of the worst women shoppers he had ever seen.

  Her tightly curled white hair sat on top of her head like a clown’s wig. Frustrated, Wes watched as she made her way down the aisles of shoes, using the shelves for support and pushing his neat stacks in all directions. She stopped after finding a shoe she appeared to like, and finding the box marked with her size pulled it out of the stack, knocking the ones above it to the floor. Opening the box, she pulled one shoe out and dropped it to the floor. To free up both her hands, the woman took the clearance items she was holding and draped them over the display shelves, displacing the shoes on top. Using the shelf again for support, the woman lifted her foot to pull off her shoe and then proceeded to force her foot into the shoe she was trying on.

  After watching the show for a few moments, Wes decided it might be less messy if he offered to help.

  “Hello, Ma’am, we have a bench here for you to sit on while trying on shoes if you’d like.”

  “Well,” she said as she looked up at Wes, her upper lip arching again, “I wouldn’t like to. I’m fine here.” She continued to balance herself while trying to shove her foot into the shoe. The shifting of her focus from the shoe to Wes and back again caused her to lose her balance, and she bumped against the shelves, pushing a few stacks of shoes over. Finally, she got her foot into the shoe, and apparently deciding it wasn’t what she wanted after all, repeated the balancing act to replace her own shoe on her foot. The woman then reenacted the entire process with three more shoes, leaving complete devastation behind her in the women’s section of the footwear department.

  Wes was not happy with the way this customer was destroying his neat aisles. The fact that he wasn’t busy and didn’t have anything else to do was beside the point. She was paying little attention to the mess she was making and showed no concern for the extra work she was causing. He decided she owed him a year of life. Maybe he’d take two. She’d caused him enough trouble and a lot of extra work.

  The woman made her way to the cashier counter leaving the mess behind her. She hadn’t selected any shoes. Wes kept an eye on her as he quickly straightened the area and then followed the woman to the counter. She had finished paying and was walking through the doors at the front of the store. “I’m going to help her to her car,” Wes said as he passed the cashier. “There might be ice in the parking lot.” The cashier, a young high school girl texting on her phone, nodded but he knew she didn’t care.

  Wes followed the old woman outside. He was still relatively new to the feeding process, but he was sure he was capable of sucking a couple years from this woman. She was already almost to a car that was parked in a handicapped parking space even though there was no decal on the license plate. A strong wind blew across the parking lot, carrying small particles of ice that had fallen as snow earlier that day. He got to the woman just as she was opening her car door and pushed it shut so she couldn’t get in.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the woman asked, reaching again for the car door. “I should go back in and have you fired.”

  Wes pushed her hand away from the handle. He experienced a reaction he hadn’t felt since he’d been approached by the policemen in the alley. He wanted to attack this woman and tear her up. She was an awful person.

  A few seconds passed during which neither of them spoke. Then with something like fear in her eyes, she turned away from Wes and tried to open her car door again. He pushed her hand from the door handle again, and this time the woman cried out. Wes knew he needed to do something fast, so he pulled the woman’s glasses off and tossed them to the pavement. He grabbed her head and aimed her eyes at his. He could see his reflection in her dark eyes. He looked past into the darkness in the pupils to find her life force, locked in, and began to feed.

  Except...he didn’t. As soon as he locked in, the old woman went limp in his arms and fell to the iced pavement. Wes reached down and softly shook her. There was no response. What happened? He hadn’t really fed at all! Did she have that little life left? Had he stolen all the time she had? He touched her neck to check her pulse but realized he wouldn’t be able to feel it even if she had one.

  Wes ran from the woman across the now empty parking lot back into the store. If she wasn’t dead he knew he had to get help fast. “Call 911,” he said as he approached the cashier desk. “The woman I was helping collapsed by her car.”

  A few hours later, Wes waited outside the employee entrance of the department store for Emily to pick him up. The events of the evening were still playing through his mind, and the guilt he felt grew. For the first time in his life – or his death – he had killed someone intentionally, and he’d done it because he hadn’t been able to control his temper.

  As Wes’s guilt increased, so did his attempts to justify his actions. She was already close to death anyway, right? She was a mean old woman and deserved to die. He hadn’t really soul-synced with her; maybe she had merely died as he was trying to. Yet Wes knew he was trying to make himself feel better by blaming his victim, and he knew his last thought was definitely not true. He had made the connection and he knew it. Not only had he killed her, he had pursued her to the parking lot with the intention of taking some of her life. It wasn’t merely accidental manslaughter; it was premeditated murder.

  Emily drove up and stopped. He could see her sitting in the car and hesitated for a second before reaching for the car door to get in. How would he explain this to her? She always told him how great she thought he was and now he would have to tell her he was a murderer. Wes opened the door and sat down in the passenger seat. It was going to be a long drive back to their apartment.

  “How was your night,” Emily asked as they pulled out of the parking lot. The wind had died down and the soft snow that was falling was just beginning to collect on the pavement.

  “It was okay.” Wes left his reply simple as he struggled to think of a way to tell her what he’d done.

  “Her name was Margret Sager. Her grandkids called her Grandma Marge.”

  Wes looked quickly at Emily who had her attention on the road. “How do you know what happened,” he asked softly. He looked at her expressionless face as she maneuvered the car around a bend in the road.

  “I work at the hospital, Wes, you know that. I was there when they brought her in and pronounced her dead. I was there when her daughter arrived to see the body. I knew what had happened as soon as the EMTs brought her in and explained the situation. Wes, what happened?”

  Wes remained silent. He stared out the windshield at the snowflakes that flew at the car. “I killed her and I…” Wes’s voice trailed off. No matter what he said he wouldn’t be able to justify what he’d done. Knowing that the woman had children and grandchildren made him feel even worse. It was bad enough when he thought of her as a mean old woman without any connections. “I’m a horrible person.”

  Guilt felt different as a Mortui. There were no guilty tears. He didn’t have the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach that came when he did something very wrong. He didn’t feel anxiety or stress. All the physical symptoms of guilt that a living, physical body experienced might have helped shield him from the real pain he now felt from somewhere deep inside. This sensation of guilt was worse than anything he’d felt in life. It was as if a part of his soul had torn off and pulled away as he desperately
scrambled to save it. He felt despair, emptiness, and helplessness.

  “What you did was horrible, but you’re not a horrible person, Wes,” Emily said softly as she watched Wes’s face. “I have always felt that you are innately good. If I’m right, the feelings you’re having right now and the thoughts you’re struggling with are pretty painful.”

  “Another lesson in bodiless pain.”

  “Wes, what exactly happened at the store tonight?”

  Wes briefly explained the entire situation. He told Emily how the woman had entered the store and made a complete mess without any consideration for the people who worked there or for other customers. He told her how he’d followed her to her car with the intention to feed just enough to shorten her life a little. He’d had no intention of killing her completely.

  “So it was intentional then?”

  “Yes, it was. How could I think I had the right to take life from her? I didn’t need to feed. It wasn’t out of self-preservation. I was feeling trapped and useless, and I allowed my mental anxieties to control my actions. I actually fed with the intention of shortening her life. I really am a horrible person.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” Emily said as she parked the car in front of their apartment. “If you didn’t I’d be a little worried. I’m glad you feel remorse for what you did. It proves you are the person I always thought you were. If it makes it easier, and I know from experience it won’t, we all have to experience this sense of remorse at some point. If we didn’t it would be easy to justify killing. We could begin to feel entitled. We would become nothing more than an empty, soulless killing machine.”

  Emily and Wes sat in the car. Neither of them moved to get out and go inside. Wes watched as the snow slowly drifted past a nearby street lamp. It fell through the light and settled on the ground below, glittering in the soft yellow rays of light shining on it from above. The image was almost ethereal.

  “I think you’re done with your training, Wes,” Emily said finally, breaking the silence. She turned to him. “I’ve taught you all you’re going to learn here, and you’re as ready as you’ll ever be to go to a bigger city.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready at all,” Wes said, thinking about Grandma Marge. “I haven’t learned anything.”

  “Tonight you learned one of the hardest lessons there is. Killing for the sake of killing is an awful thing. Even though Margret was close to death, the few days you took should have been hers. When we feed, we do it because we have to, and we never take life from the sick or the elderly. I think you understand that now.”

  “I still don’t think I’m ready to be on my own.”

  “Don’t worry. No one is ever on their own. You’ll have another companion.”

  “Really? Oh. I don’t know why I thought I’d be left alone.”

  “We’re too tight of an organization for our members to be without a partner. Tomorrow we’ll head back to the Hub and get you all set up.” Emily smiled at Wes.

  The snow continued to fall on the windshield, eventually blocking Wes’s view of the street lamp. “I still don’t know if I can do it,” Wes said, looking at Emily who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts as she also stared out the darkening window. Moving onto the next step of his life after death was not really what worried him. He knew he would be separated from Emily, and she had become more than a trainer to him. He no longer saw her as the sister she liked to refer to herself as.

  Emily pulled herself away from her thoughts and looked at him. “You’ll be amazing Wes, you shouldn’t worry about that.” Emily touched Wes’s face and smiled. “I’m gonna miss you, little brother.”

  Wes smiled back, hoping the smile looked genuine. He didn’t want to be her little brother; he wanted more.

  Chapter 19

  During the three months Emily and Wes had spent in Charleston, they’d made several visits to the Hub for various training purposes. Each time Wes noticed the Hub was busier than the previous visit. Mortuis from all over the region were coming to get new assignments and special training to prepare for AfterLife’s new focus: counteracting the growing threat of the Atumra against antemorts.

  Wes left Emily at the Den and walked down the hallway to his room. It was surprisingly smaller than he remembered. In fact, it was smaller than the closet room he stayed in at the yellow house, but it still felt more like home. The personal items from his life helped create an atmosphere of familiarity. He dropped his bags to the floor and sat on the cot to soak in the calm before going back to the Den to meet up with Emily.

  The seating area in the Den was full of Mortuis. They sat in groups talking and laughing, and the scene reminded him of a lounge at a college dorm except for the greater variety of people. Wes felt slightly out of place as he looked around the room. Emily hadn’t made it back yet, and no one paid him any attention as he walked in. That is, no one until he recognized Meri, the woman who had found him in his apartment after he died. She was staring at him from the couch, and when she saw he recognized her she aimed a friendly grin his way. Wes returned the smile. Meri patted the vacant spot on the couch next to her, and Wes acknowledged the nonverbal cue to join her.

  “How have you been, Wes,” Meri asked after he sat down.

  “Good. Training was a little rough out in the middle of nowhere, but I made it through.”

  “Yes, you did, and you look well. Much better than when Jordan and I found you.” Meri reflected for a moment as she looked down at her hands in her lap. She rotated the ring bearing the AfterLife emblem around her left thumb. “He’s no longer with us.” She looked back up at Wes with a forced smile.

  “Who? Jordan?”

  Meri continued. “Yep. He’s gone to the dark side. He decided Atumra is the place for him.”

  “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Wes recalled once thinking the opportunity to live again could be a strong incentive to join the Atumra. He now realized it was selfish and that he could never be part of the Atumra or accept their philosophies. Living as a Mortui was a fate he could accept for now, and being part of AfterLife was where he belonged. He had made his decision and didn’t need to rethink it every time the issue came up.

  “I’m sorry, Meri. How long had you two been partners?”

  “Going on 5 years. You think you know a person, but then…” The false expression of happiness returned for just a second, but was quickly replaced by a brighter, more genuine one. “It’s okay though, you’re my partner in crime now.”

  “Me? With you?” This was news to Wes. Emily hadn’t said who he would be placed with, and he was relieved to find it was with someone he already knew.

  “Yep. It’s going to be you and me taking on the city. Once Emily is finished putting her things away, the Ancestors want to see the three of us.”

  “Chicago. I’ll be going back to Chicago.” It was a statement, not a question. He had a lot of unfinished business in Chicago, but he didn’t voice this to Meri. Instead he changed the subject. “There’re a lot of people at the Hub today.” The sitting area in the middle of the room held about 15 people, and circular tables with chairs around the room’s perimeter provided space for another 20 or so. Their ages ranged from young to old and they sat clustered together in small groups. The slight hum of chatter that filled the Den was broken only by random outbursts of laughter from a blond woman who was talking with three other people at one of the tables.

  “It’s the change in focus,” Meri said, also looking around the room. “The Ancestors are requiring every Mortui in this AfterLife Hub to make a trip here and check in. If you ask me, I think they want to do more than just clarify the details of everyone’s new assignment. They’re trying to make sure that those who remain with AfterLife want to be here. Atumra is looking pretty appealing to a lot of our members right now.”

  Wes knew Meri had witnessed Jordan’s change. It must have been difficult to watch the person she thought she knew become someone else entirely. He could see Meri didn’t interpret Jordan’s d
efection to Atumra as a simple change in allegiance, but also as a personal betrayal of their friendship.

  “I’m really sorry to hear about Jordan,” Wes said again.

  Meri shrugged her shoulders. “There isn’t anything to be sorry for. He made the choice he felt was best for him. It’s not anyone’s fault. I hope he’ll be happy with his decision. He wanted me to go with him, but it wasn’t a choice I could make.”

  “I can tell you care, though.”

  “I always care.” Meri looked at Wes, her expression slightly sad. “That’s just how I am. I trust people too quickly.”

  “Five years is not too quick to trust someone, Meri. Look at me. I trusted you when you first found me, and I trusted AfterLife without really knowing what type of group it was. I felt comfortable with it from the beginning. Of course, I didn’t know anything else, but if I didn’t want to still be here, I wouldn’t be.” Wes didn’t know if his argument would comfort Meri, but he was trying, and he realized it was all true. He had put a lot of faith in AfterLife and he still trusted them. “If anyone leapt without looking, I guess it would be me.”

  Meri nodded and smiled again. This time the smile was genuine. Wes felt this would probably be one of many philosophical conversations he and Meri would have while she showed him how to survive as a Mortui in Chicago. He bet they were very much alike. They were both sensitive to the feelings of others.

  Emily, who had come up from behind while they were talking, leaned her head between them. “Am I missing anything exciting?”

  “Oh! No,” Wes said, startled. “Meri was just telling me I’m going to be with her in Chicago.” He stood up and turned to face Emily. Meri also stood. “Did you know?” he asked.