After Life

by Jacquie Underdown

  Zoe was doing her best to concentrate on the conversation, but the dream she had was so vivid, remnants still flashed brightly in her mind.

  Was Marcus the name of the boatman? And why was Zoe kissing him and feeling such intense emotions?

  Zoe knew it was impossible to control such things as dreams, and she knew in no way had she betrayed Theron by feeling those emotions for Marcus, but her guilt had become more intense this morning.

  In the back of her mind, she was trying to resist the thought that her dream may not have actually been a dream but a memory.

  She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I need answers. I need them soon or I’m going to go bat shit crazy.” She could barely look Theron in the eye as she lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “There’s a girl at the school. I see her in the halls.”

  “Dead?” Asher asked, unable to mask her excitement.

  Zoe nodded. “She’s dripping wet. Theron thinks that maybe she’s the student who was drowned last year.”

  Asher nodded as she had a bite of her toast.

  Zoe was just going to come out and say it. It would give her newfound self-acceptance a harsh trial, but there was no other choice.

  Either she got answers about her circumstances or she spent the rest of her life wandering through the darkness, having dreams about strange men who may or may not even exist in reality.

  “Here’s what I want to do. Saturday night, I make contact with her. We head down the back of the school, so we’re not disturbed by anyone. I do what I have to do, and I don’t leave the Afterlife until I have answers.”

  “I can film all this?” Asher asked.

  Zoe nodded. “I want you to. Every last second. Then I want you to show your Facebook group, your contact from the university, anyone who may even remotely possess knowledge about all this, and then you need to put your heads together and tell me what the hell is going on!”

  Asher dropped her toast to her plate and rubbed her hands together, grinning. “I’m in.”

  Zoe peered at Theron. He was her main concern because if her dream held any ounce of truth, she didn’t know what that meant for her and Theron.

  Had she at some point loved Marcus? But how could that be possible? Before a month ago, she’d never even laid eyes on him.

  But perhaps she had moments that were wiped from her memory, just like that first trip she made to the Afterlife.

  “If that’s what you want to do. I’ll help in any way I can,” Theron said.

  Zoe blew out a long sigh. “Good. Thank you. In the meantime, I want to search the Internet for any mythology or stories mentioning a man called Marcus.”

  Theron squinted. “Marcus? Why Marcus?”

  Keeping her tone light, she said, “I had a dream about him last night. The boatman’s name is Marcus.”

  Theron nodded. “We’ll meet in the library after class and see what we can find.”

  Chapter 28

  Zoe would be happy if she never saw Rhianna’s face again, but the universe wasn’t granting wishes at the moment. And now was one of those moments.

  Theron’s grip on her hand tightened as they saw Rhianna exiting the library and heading their way. Zoe sighed.

  Rhianna kept her focus firmly on her feet until they were just about to pass each other, then she lifted her gaze to meet Zoe’s and scowled. “So you’re an internet sensation now. Good for you.”

  Zoe slowed as Rhianna’s curt tongue lashing stung. She may have ignored such a comment in the past, but she was over it. Zoe had never done anything to hurt Rhianna; there was no excuse for her to behave this way.

  Theron tugged on her hand, to keep Zoe walking forward, but she pulled her hand out of his grasp. This needed to be dealt with or it was never going away.

  She stepped in front of Rhianna. Hands on her hips. “What’s your problem with me?”

  Rhianna attempted to side-step around Zoe, but Zoe moved in front of her again, so she couldn’t get away. “No way. You and I need to talk.”

  Rhianna’s eyes narrowed. “There’s not much to talk about, Super Freak.” The last two words were spoken with such venom if they were tangible they would have killed.

  “I understand you have a problem with my …” she searched for the right word, finally deciding on, “ability. But what I don’t understand is why.”

  Rhianna clicked her tongue. “Ability? Is that what you like to call your mental illness?”

  Theron, jaw tight, stepped closer. He breathed to speak, but Zoe put her hand up to stop him. If what was happening between Rhianna and her was going to be solved, she needed to handle it herself.

  Zoe ignored Rhianna’s taunt again—getting upset at ridiculous name-calling wasn’t going to help either of them. “You don’t have to believe in what I do. Whether you do or don’t will not change anything. But what needs to end is this bitchiness. I’m not your enemy, Rhianna. I’ve never done anything to hurt you—”

  “I’m sure Daniel wouldn’t see it that way. He’s not coming back to this school. Did you know that?” She glared at Theron. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. You were supposed to be his friend—”

  “Don’t act as though I’m the one in the wrong here,” Theron boomed, the tendons in his neck straining. “You know very well what you both did to Zoe, and that Daniel was the one who reverted to a fist fight.”

  “What you and Daniel did to me was inexcusable,” Zoe said.

  Rhianna’s eyes glistened. “It’s not always about you, Zoe! Why don’t you stop and think once in a while about how you hurt other people.”

  Zoe staggered a step back as though she’d been punched and shook her head. “How I hurt people?”

  A tear rolled down Rhianna’s cheek. Completely surprising. “You don’t know what it’s like for me to hear you say that people linger on Earth as spirits after they …” her voice cracked, more tears spilled.

  The solid wall of anger and hatred built around Rhianna crumbled. Her bottom lip dropped, trembled, her features looking like that of a girl much younger than the mask Rhianna usually hid behind. This hatred for Zoe obviously ran much deeper than she could have thought.

  “How is it for you? Tell me?” Zoe asked, softening her voice. She hadn’t even conceived that her dead seeing could be construed by others as hurtful.

  “My mother died when I was twelve,” Rhianna said, her voice shaking and lips trembling.

  Zoe exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

  “No, you didn’t know. Do you think I want to believe that my beautiful mother who died so heroically from cancer is trapped here on Earth, waiting and waiting and …” A sob broke from her mouth. She palmed the tears from her cheeks. “It hurts so much to think that she’s this close, yet I can’t feel her or speak to her.”

  Zoe blinked a couple of times, trying to stem the moisture pooling in her own eyes. Her throat tightened from hearing the intensity of grief Rhianna had buried deep down inside.

  She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose her mother, but she could empathise and understand how Rhianna could see it as a horrible punishment for her mother to have died and left to linger in a place between life and death.

  “I’m so sorry,” Zoe whispered. “I never knew … you should have told me.”

  Rhianna shook her head. “What difference would it have made?”

  “Plenty. I’m not some hard-hearted person. I never intended to hurt anyone. Ever. Especially you. Not in this way. But I can’t change what I am—I’ve tried. I’ve tried so damn hard to be someone other than what I am. I’ve tried every drug, every treatment, in the hopes that all that I am turns out to be a delusion. But it’s not. And that’s not my fault. Despite all your pain about your mother, you can’t blame me for being who I am. I don’t even know the rules, let alone have any say in them.”

  Rhianna gazed off into the distance, then took a shuddering breath in and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the inside of her collar. When s
he looked back at Zoe, she slumped her shoulders and said, “I’m so tired of all this. I just want it to end.”

  “Me too,” Zoe agreed. “Let’s end it then. We don’t have to be nasty to each other. It won’t change anything.”

  Rhianna nodded slowly, resignation in the set of her eyes and mouth. “Fine. I’m not sure we could ever be friends but no more nastiness.”

  Zoe played with her ponytail and nodded. “That’s fine by me. If that’s where we go from here, then fine.”

  Rhianna adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and marched away. For a few moments, Zoe couldn’t move, caught in the bright lights of amazement and equal parts disbelief.

  Theron entwined his fingers with hers. “Wow.”

  Zoe nodded. “Not what I expected to hear from her.”

  Theron kissed her temple. “Me neither. But I’m glad you both finally talked it out.”

  “Me too. It’s a massive relief. Now, come on, let’s go inside, I want to find some answers.”

  At this time of the afternoon on a Friday, the library was almost empty. Only the more studious types hung out here; the others more than likely had parties to attend.

  While heading up the long timber staircase leading to the top level, Zoe wondered if Theron would rather be with the party people. She peered at him, taking in his gorgeous profile.

  Perhaps from feeling her attention, he turned to her and grinned. “What?”

  She shook her head, heat rising in her cheeks. “Nothing.” She didn’t mention her insecurities—she’d learned over time that admitting your deficiencies only gave others the right to believe in them too.

  He kissed her lips. “Come on, let’s see what we can find.”

  Zoe held up the small piece of paper with the stack numbers she found for books that could possibly hold the answers she needed. She peered at the signs and pointed toward the very back of the expansive room. “Down there.”

  The further they went, the dimmer the room became. The scent of old books filled the air and offered a strange sense of comfort—like a well-worn jumper or her Mum’s meaty casserole on a cold night.

  The stack they needed was located along the back wall and up the end of the shelves. The book spines spoke of the occult, mythological and mystical.

  Zoe handed Theron the list. “I’ll look for the first on the list, you look for the second.”

  Theron nodded as he read the paper and went about searching for the title.

  After a few false starts, Zoe found the book she needed. The spine was well-worn brown leather, torn and faded at the top and bottom as though it had been pulled out and shoved back into the bookshelf many, many times.

  She gently slid it out and peered at the cover: The New Greek Mythology: After the Invasion.

  Zoe had barely heard of ancient Greek mythology let alone the new mythology if there was such a thing. But, on a search downstairs, this book did bring up all three of her search phrases: mythology, boatman, and Marcus.

  She sat on the cold timber floorboards, legs crossed, with the book on her lap. She flipped it open to the back, searching for an index. Theron held a relatively larger book.

  She scanned down the rows of text, flipping the pages until she came to the letter M.

  Marcus was there in black print followed by ten different page numbers. She started at the first in order of appearance and, carefully, so as not to damage the thin pages, she flipped to the right page and found an article.

  There was no invasion this time.

  The war raged from within.

  Blood and supreme rulership of the universe,

  including Earth and all humans,

  was what Olympian gods strived for.

  They brought wars to their own worlds,

  which stormed for millennia.

  Fires flamed, swords and sceptres sliced,

  and the souls of ruling gods and goddesses

  were dealt with any way seen fit to ensure

  they could no longer get in the way.

  But, the children of the gods and goddesses

  were a new breed.

  Their lips spoke only of peace, love and loyalty.

  And with the strength of their compassion,

  they rose above the din of war and catalysed a revolution.

  The old gods and troublemakers between worlds

  were condemned to Tartarus.

  But instead of thrusting the fate of

  eternal damnation upon the souls,

  they were instead given the right to justice—

  they were allowed the opportunity for rehabilitation.

  And so the war mongers and grossly immoral were

  sentenced to lifetimes on the planet Earth,

  learning the consequences of their characters

  until they could peacefully return as citizens of

  Olympus once again.

  So Earth’s population grew while Olympus’ faded.

  The old gods and goddesses were banished,

  and others had their immortality stripped during the war.

  But peace was restored to Olympus.

  “Anything in that?” Theron asked.

  Zoe frowned, forehead furrowing. “I’m not sure. I find it a little difficult to believe.”

  Theron arched a brow. “Seriously? You, after all you have experienced, are having trouble believing something.”

  Zoe laughed softly, cautious of being too loud in a library, though they were well and truly alone up here. “It’s talking about a new breed of Olympian gods. It’s all a bit far-fetched.”

  “Any mention of Marcus?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  The gods were not the only ones banished to Earth.

  Generations of primordials, the beings credited with

  creating Earth and the surrounding planets,

  stars and galaxies, lost key figureheads.

  The new generation was relegated to take over

  the positions long held by their ancestors.

  Zeus, King of Gods, God of Thunder and Justice,

  was replaced by his granddaughter, Dionne.

  While Primordial descendants like Marcus,

  took over the position from Charon the Ferryman,

  taking the dead souls between the worlds.

  Zoe broke off unable to lift her gaze from the page, unable to meet Theron’s stare. “Could this be true?” she asked through a tight throat, words a mere whisper.

  When she finally met Theron’s gaze, she saw that he was just as astonished as her. He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

  Closing the book, Zoe looked at the spine for the author: Anonymous. She opened the book again and scanned through the first few pages, checking for a publisher, a copyright date, anything that would show some sort of credibility, but there was nothing.

  “It’s strange that you dreamed about his name, though,” Theron said.

  “The entire situation is weird.”

  “What was the dream about?” he asked.

  Zoe stilled as guilt nestled in her belly like a giant weight. She was silent for too long.

  “Zoe?”

  She met his gaze.

  “What was it about?” His voice held a cautious edge to it now.

  Zoe sighed. She didn’t want to tell Theron about the dream, but it was only a dream. It’s not like it was real or like she was actually kissing Marcus. But the sensations in her body afterwards certainly were.

  “I kissed him. I could feel that there was some kind of intimate relationship between us. He called me his girl.” Zoe lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think I have loved him at some point.”

  Theron remained rigid. He nodded slowly. “Love him, you say?”

  She winced. Hearing it from his lips made it too real, ridiculous, with the potential to cause so much damage. “It was just a dream.”

  “Okay,” he said, exasperation and hurt pinching his tone.

  He knew, and Zoe knew that it was more th
an a dream.

  Zoe groaned and rubbed the back of her neck. This was exactly the reason why she didn’t want to drag anyone else into her life, especially someone like Theron, someone she had deep emotions for.

  The risks to his and her own emotional well-being were too damn high.

  Her heart and his heart became vulnerable to breaking.

  But she hadn’t done anything wrong. “You can’t get angry at me for this,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “I’m not angry.” But his clipped words told a different story. “I’m frustrated at myself for not being able to punch Marcus in the head for kissing you.”

  Zoe sighed. “He’s not real. It didn’t really happen.”

  Theron stood and shoved his book back on the shelf. “He is real. Perhaps not on this world, but he exists in a world you go to. A world I can’t. How am I supposed to deal with that?”

  “By trusting me.”

  He peered at her hard. “I do trust you, Zoe. But I don’t trust him.” He turned and walked away leaving her alone on the cold library floor.

  ◆◆◆

  Zoe’s body was achy. She couldn’t shake it. The achiness had formed the moment Theron walked away from her and still held tight to her bones and muscles now that she was back in the dorm. Alone.

  Asher was out. She was grateful for that. She needed space to wallow without having to explain to anyone why. She needed time to think things through.

  After dinner and a shower, Zoe dragged herself to her bedroom. All she wanted was her parents. She missed them so much, and with Theron’s glaring absence, it made the yearning greater.

  She lay back against her pillows on the bed, mobile in hand, and dialled her parents. Her mother answered.