After Life | Book 2 | Life After Life

by Kelley, Daniel

  And Michelle, arriving onto Salvisa’s property where there were more than a hundred people, many of them probably angry, all of them desperate, and her coming in with the perception of authority would be more likely to go poorly for her than well.

  So she decided for herself that her affiliation with Stamford would remain a secret. And she told her travel companions as much as Simon pulled the car into a small area on the left side of the driveway close to the road.

  “Of course,” Erik said. “I don’t think anybody should necessarily get any more information than they need.”

  The kids in the car murmured their agreements as well. With the car stopped, they each removed their seatbelts and opened their doors.

  “Also,” Michelle said, watching the other four all make moves to leave the car, “can you open the back of the SUV? I can at least prop myself up there for now, since I can’t do a lot of walking.”

  Celia nodded, and Simon moved to the back of the vehicle while Celia helped Michelle from the backseat. It hurt. Michelle could practically feel her left foot dangling as she moved, and she had a feeling she was going to have a problem with that leg for a long time, if only because she wasn’t in any place to get treatment.

  She couldn’t let that slow her down in the moment, though. And she didn’t want to let on how much it was hurting, because she felt like she needed to continue to be the rock for the group, and showing weakness would make that difficult.

  And then she had a whole other set of concerns.

  “Help!” she heard from outside the SUV as she started to climb out. The voice was male and sounded desperate. But it only took Michelle a second to recognize it. Erik.

  “Help!” he cried again, running into the middle of the driveway. The mass of people had mostly congregated up near the house, but there were a few stragglers and new arrivals still near them, and they turned in a hurry. Guns were drawn, including those of Michelle and the others from the car. The people at the house turned their attention that way as well.

  But there was nothing around Erik. He was alone. Michelle leaned as far as she could on her one good leg to see if he was being chased, but there was nothing.

  “Help!” Erik said a third time. He pointed back to the SUV. “They kidnapped me!”

  Murmurs and worried noises started to come from the others who were gathered around. Michelle could feel her mouth drop open.

  “They took me!” he screamed, still pointing. “They killed my wife, killed the people I was with, and made me come with them!”

  “What are you talking about?” Stacy asked. She had started to cry. Celia was looking back and forth from Erik to Simon, with no idea how to proceed. Simon, meanwhile, was frozen. He had taken a step out of the SUV and was in mid stride, one leg in front of the other, stuck in place.

  Michelle just felt stupid. Erik had been in a group that tried to murder them. They had killed his wife. He had tried to abandon them. The only time he had stuck around was when he didn’t have any better option. And she had just trusted him, just let him walk around free. Should she have known he’d do this? Not necessarily. But she was a fool to have trusted him at all.

  The people gathered around were confused, but eyes were already turning to Michelle and her group. Erik was clearly lying, but he was one hell of an actor. His eyes were tearing up, his voice was cracking, and he kept backing away.

  “Please!” he cried. “They won’t let me have a weapon! They said I was their leverage in case it goes wrong!”

  “He’s lying!” Stacy cried.

  “In case what goes wrong?” a man asked, stepping forward. He had driven the car that had been just ahead of theirs on the way in. He was a burly 50-something with the appearance of an ex-soldier. He wore a loose T-shirt and work pants over boots, and held his arms slightly out, like a bodybuilder who had done so much work he could no longer keep them straight. His gun was worn in a shoulder holster that was stretched tight over his enormous chest. His hair was trimmed almost to the skull, but as he turned, Michelle spied a dark ponytail at the back. He had a goatee that was longer than any of the hair on his head other than the ponytail.

  “They want to kill Salvisa,” Erik said. “They said they blame him for all of this and they’re going to kill him. They took me as a hostage!”

  “None of this is true!” Simon said. His voice was as deep as Michelle had heard it. He had his hand on his gun, but as the others gathering around were paying more attention and looking at them with more suspicion, he stowed it away and raised his hands defensively.

  “Why Salvisa?” the man said, but he had already started to turn his gun toward Michelle and the kids.

  Erik shook his head. “You’ll have to ask them!” he said. He pointed at Michelle with a shaking hand. “She … she worked in Stamford. Said she’d gotten fired. Set out to get back at everybody. Said Salvisa was next!”

  “And who are the others?” the man asked.

  “I don’t know!” Erik cried. He was manufacturing some serious tears. “Just some young people with her! They helped her.”

  The man was definitely focusing on Michelle now. Others, getting closer, were still murmuring, but they were definitely in trouble. And Michelle’s plan to keep her Stamford connection quiet had lasted about as long as such plans did on Survivor.

  Chapter Ten: Believe

  Mickey was doing his best to ignore the hubbub near the end of the driveway. If it wasn’t helping them get in, it wasn’t worth much of anything. But he was struggling with it. There was yelling. There was screaming. If there were zombies back there, that would make their lives that much more difficult. So Mickey couldn’t ignore it completely.

  Jack, though, had no such problems. If it turned out he hadn’t realized there was anything even going on back there, Mickey would have believed it. He was knocking on Salvisa’s door, knocking on the walls. He was going window to window, pulling on the bars, looking for weaknesses. Mostly, he was swearing loudly.

  Amid Jack’s language and the difficult-to-distinguish commotion from the back, Mickey’s attention was split, and he didn’t even notice Lara walk up next to him.

  “I feel like we’re stuck,” she said. Her voice was hesitant, like she wasn’t sure she was even allowed to talk.

  “What do you mean?” Mickey asked.

  “He’s not making any headway up there,” she said. “Sounds like from the others that Salvisa might not even be here. What do we do if we strike out here? Every time I tried to ask that when Jack was around, he just got mad, but you’re reasonable. Do we just go home?”

  “Maybe you do,” Mickey said. He hadn’t even looked at Lara. He was watching Jack and trying to listen to the argument, and it was dividing his attention. “Maybe you do. I don’t think I’ll be going back.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “What?” Mickey asked. He blinked a couple times and snapped back to attention. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing. I just mean we’ll figure this out. Peter isn’t gone. He’s in there, just waiting for us to leave. But I think you know as well as I do that Jack isn’t going anywhere.”

  Lara nodded, but she looked at Mickey suspiciously. He tried to ignore her but was annoyed at his own inattentiveness. He felt like he was in charge of these people if only because no one else seemed up to the task; that wouldn’t last if they found out his real plans were to finish up the current task and then kill himself. He had one job left to do, and he didn’t want to mess that up.

  They stood there in silence for a moment until Kim walked up as well with the genial man, McVay.

  “What do you think is going on down there?” Mickey asked them, motioning with his head behind them while he kept his eyes on Jack.

  “It’s happened a few times,” McVay said. He, Kim, and Lara turned to look that direction. “Tensions are high. People come in on edge, hoping they’ll get their answer right away, and they realize it’s not that simple. That’s probably the sixth or seventh kerfuffle I’ve seen
.”

  “I don’t know,” Kim said. “This feels different.”

  “How so?” Mickey asked. As he did, Jack punched Salvisa’s steel door, making a loud bang that startled everyone but Mickey. They jumped, then settled as Jack swore again.

  After a second, Kim appeared to remember Mickey’s question. “I don’t really know,” she said. “I just feel like the yelling is different. Whatever they’re saying, it’s less angry, more scared.”

  Mickey was intrigued enough to turn and look. In the darkness, a fair distance away, and with his old eyes, he wasn’t sure he could agree to what Kim had said, but he wasn’t sure he could disagree either. Either way, the problems down there were continuing.

  And suddenly, Mickey thought he heard something significant. He thought he heard the word Stamford.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked the others. “Did they say Stamford?”

  “I didn’t hear it,” McVay said. “But my ears are old. Could be.”

  “I thought so,” Lara said. “But that isn’t that strange, is it?”

  “Haven’t heard it come up like that any other time here,” Kim said.

  Mickey thought that might be the case. People might have debated among themselves whether to go to Stamford or Salvisa’s beforehand, but he couldn’t envision it being a point of contention once people had arrived. It piqued his curiosity.

  “I might want to investigate,” he said. Mickey took a step toward the group at the back of the driveway, but as he did, a shot rang out behind him.

  No one had been looking at Jack. They all spun back to see what had happened. Jack stood there, gun out, still pointing at Salvisa’s window, which was now gone. The argument at the end of the driveway had stopped and the people who had drifted that way when the hubbub started were now hurrying back, guns in hand. Nothing unified people in a zombie world more than a gunshot. Guns almost always meant Z’s, and your worst enemy became your best friend when a zombie was around.

  “What are you doing?” Kim asked, alarmed.

  “He’s going to know I’m not going anywhere,” Jack said. The window was fortified by metal bars, so even with the glass gone, Jack wasn’t going to be going in that way, but he had definitely announced his presence.

  People from the head of the driveway were arriving, breathing heavily. Mickey raised his hands to calm them.

  “I’m sorry, everybody,” he said. “That was just an attempt to get Peter’s attention. A … misguided attempt, probably.”

  The newcomers immediately started murmuring their disapproval. A man in his 50s, gun in hand, stepped up. “Give us a goddamn warning next time,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” Mickey said. “Didn’t know it was going to happen myself.”

  The man looked at Mickey angrily, then shot a look at Jack, who wasn’t even paying attention to the people mad at him.

  “What’s going on down there?” Lara asked the man. “What was everybody so mad about?”

  The man looked surprised for a moment, like he just remembered. He put his gun back in its shoulder holster and half-shrugged. “Not totally sure,” he said. He looked around, finally settling on a middle-aged man who looked sweaty and confused. He nodded toward him. “He says he was kidnapped by a woman from Stamford.”

  This got Mickey’s attention. Kidnapped by someone from Stamford? He walked over to the new man. Before he could say anything, an SUV near the other end of the driveway kicked into gear and tore out of the driveway. It turned right and drove off.

  The 50-something guy pulled his gun again and took a couple steps toward the SUV, as did a few others, but everyone quickly realized it was futile. The man replaced his gun.

  “Was that the people who kidnapped you?” Mickey asked the man.

  He looked to Mickey, briefly surprised. “I … I think so,” he said.

  “What’s your name?”

  The new man exhaled. “Erik.”

  Mickey nodded. “Tell me what happened.”

  “They took me,” he said. “Killed my wife and took me. They said they were going to come here and kill Salvisa.”

  “Who is ‘they’?” Mickey asked.

  “Her,” the man said. His voice got stronger as he spoke. “Woman. She had three young people with her, maybe 20-something. They were working together.”

  “Why do they want to kill Peter?”

  “She worked in Stamford. Said she’d gotten fired. Was out for revenge.”

  “Why would she want revenge on Peter?”

  The man looked at Mickey with frustration. “How should I know?” he asked. “I didn’t have her fill out a survey to allow her to take me at gunpoint.”

  Mickey nodded. “I apologize,” he said. “It’s just strange.”

  “Everything is,” the man said with a sigh.

  “Did you get her name?”

  He nodded. “Michelle … something.”

  “Rivers?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Not even sure she ever told me what it was.” After a pause, he looked at Mickey with surprise. “Wait, how do you know that?”

  Mickey thought for a moment. He looked back at where the SUV had torn out of the driveway and tried to put it all together. After a moment, he looked at the man and answered. “I’m familiar with her,” he said. “We’ve spoken.” The man swallowed as he heard this, and Mickey noticed it. But he didn’t let on. “You’re safe now,” he said. “They’ve left.”

  The man nodded. “What are you all doing?” he said.

  “Just trying to talk to Peter, if he’ll let us in. Relax. Sounds like you’ve been through a lot. We’ll take care of things.”

  Mickey walked back over to where Kim, Lara, and McVay were talking with the 50-something guy who had been back at the head of the driveway. Jack was still intermittently banging on Salvisa’s door and walls and screaming, making no headway at all.

  “Crazy story, isn’t it?” the 50-something man said.

  Mickey nodded. “It’s both of those things,” he said. “It’s crazy, but I also believe it’s a story.”

  The man took a moment to understand what Mickey was saying. “You don’t believe him?”

  “I do not,” Mickey said. He was still watching as the man with the story was pacing around. “The woman he was accusing, did you see her?” The man nodded. “Mid-40s, blonde?” He nodded again. “Based on what he said, I believe that was Michelle Rivers. Woman I’ve spoken with on occasion. I don’t know her well, but I do know that as of maybe one hour before this started she had not been fired. And I know the hiring practices in Stamford. I’m not saying there’s no chance he’s telling the truth, but I am very skeptical.”

  The others matched Mickey’s gaze. The man appeared to realize he was being watched and looked back at them. Mickey smiled. The man nodded, but did not return the smile.

  “What do we do about that, then?” Kim asked after the man had resumed pacing.

  “Right now, nothing,” Mickey said. “Michelle left. He’s here. It’s just something to be aware of. We have other matters to deal with.”

  Part 5: Life After Death

  Chapter One: A Boat Ride In The Apocalypse

  2028

  The driveway ran in a big circle in the back of the house like a race track surrounding the backyard infield. It was at the end of a long driveway; from overhead it looked like a particularly aggressive sperm. It also prevented anyone from sneaking up on the house, because the gravel driveway was impossible to drive on without making enough noise to wake Rip Van Winkle.

  This was especially clear as an old beater of a pickup started its way up the driveway. The truck was old enough that it likely shook even on a smooth roadway; on the gravel it looked liable to fall apart at the screws at any moment. Making matters worse for the truck was the fact that it was carrying a heavy load of mulch in the bed, weighing it down.

  Nonetheless, it worked its way up the driveway, taking the long way around the loop. As it rounded about, the driver — a man in
his early 40s wearing a long-faded Toronto Blue Jays hat — sat up straight. He had noticed that the picnic table in the backyard was not empty. There was a woman sitting in it, watching the truck move along without emotion. She was about his age, but didn’t look as age-beaten as him. Her black hair stretched down just past her shoulder blades and was pulled back in a loose ponytail. She wore a dirt-colored shirt over baggy work pants, completely belying the makeup on her face. From the neck up, she looked ready for a night out; from the neck down, she looked like she was heading out on the farm.

  The makeup was doing its job to an extent, but the puffiness under her eyes still gave away that she had been crying recently.

  The truck pulled just past the woman to a stop, parallel to the house, like the driver had considered just driving off and leaving but thought better of it. The driver killed the engine, waited a few seconds, then climbed out.

  He was in excellent physical shape, and the stains on his clothes indicated he’d likely come by his conditioning honestly. He wore a gun in the holster on his hip, with work pants and a baggy button-down shirt that were both stained brown. He stopped next to the truck, wiped his hands on his pants, exhaled deeply, and walked around the back to face the woman at the picnic table.

  For a moment, nothing happened. The woman looked down at the table, while the man stood next to the table staring at her. She had her hands on the table in front of her, fidgeting with her fingers. He watched her hands move at random before finally taking the last few steps and sitting down opposite her.

  Still, neither of them spoke, both watching her hands move in silence. Another quiet moment passed before the man reached out and placed his hands on hers. It stopped the movement and seemed to make her breathe for the first time since he sat down. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

  “Where is she?” she asked without looking up.

  “With dad,” he said. “You know how she likes to ride with him. He had a couple of stops to make and then they’ll be along.”