AfterLife (20 page)

Seth looked at his watch; it was almost time to meet
Jezebel. She was a defector from AfterLife, but other than the pleasure that
was always associated with stealing one from their group, she was
disappointing. She was not performing up to expectations and like her fellow
soldier, Blake, she needed to be punished. After turning off the light, Seth
took one last look around the dead antemort’s apartment. Another train went by
outside the window with the same strobe effect, even more obvious in the
darkness. With each flash, Seth could see the empty remains of the boy’s body
lying on the floor. He smiled and left the apartment, closing the door behind
him.

Jezebel was waiting in the diner, Seth saw her through the
window as he approached from outside. The small, greasy-looking restaurant had
large, dirty windows facing the empty street. He went in and sat down in the
booth across from Jezebel. She looked up from her coffee and quickly
straightened in her seat. No doubt she knew about Blake’s punishment. He hoped
she was afraid; Seth enjoyed the power fear offered him.

“Sir, I didn’t see you come in.”

“It would appear that your thoughts are on other things.”

Jezebel shook her head. “No sir, my thoughts are always on
the Atumra.”

“I didn’t come here to hear you praise the Body. I’m sure I
could peer into your mind and prove your statement false. I’m here because I’ve
discovered a deficit in your contribution to the group. I’m sure Blake told you
about the little talk he and I had.”

Jezebel withheld a response. She kept her gaze down at the
white milk swirling in her coffee. Seth didn’t like feeling that his time was
being wasted. He slid his hand across the sticky, heavily varnished wooden
table and knocked her cup on its side, spilling the contents across the table
and onto the carpeted floor. Jezebel looked up with a startled expression on her
face.

“Hello,” Seth said, looking at Jezebel’s shocked face. “Do I
have your complete attention now?”

The waitress hurried over and began cleaning up the spill.
“I’m sorry,” Seth said, giving her a smile and speaking in his most charming
voice. He moved as if he were going to assist in the cleanup. “I must have
bumped the table by accident.”

“Not a problem,” the waitress said as she mopped up the
spill. She was a middle-aged woman; her dirty-blond hair was poorly tied back
out of her way and loose strands waved around her face as she moved to clean up
Seth’s mess. The dirty terrycloth towel she was using was covered with residue
from every spill that had been wiped up on her shift. Once she was done, she
deposited the rag behind the counter and returned. “Can I get you a new cup
ma’am?” The woman wiped her hands on her dirty apron.

“She’ll take another one, and I’ll take one as well.” Seth
smiled warmly at the woman and she walked away.

The diner wasn’t empty. A couple was seated at the opposite
end of the room and two large men in coveralls hunched in quiet conversation at
the counter, probably on their lunch break from whatever third-shift job they
worked. It was as good a place to have this discussion as any. Seth turned his
attention back to Jezebel. “Tell me what happened. How did one of your recruits
end up with AfterLife?”

“It just happened, I swear. I followed procedure, but I had
no idea he would kill himself. I didn’t expect it.”

“You’re holding something back, Jezebel,” Seth said in a
steely tone. “No one says the words ‘I swear’ unless they’re hiding something.
Again, I’m tempted to sync with you to see if you’re telling me the truth.”

“He wouldn’t have been a good soldier anyway,” Jezebel said
sullenly, looking down at the table.

“Interesting. I wasn’t aware that you were in a position to
make that decision.”

The waitress returned with two cups of coffee and placed one
in front of each of them. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thanks,” Seth said, once again using his charming tone
with the woman. “I apologize again for spilling the coffee.”

“No problem, handsome. Let me know if you need anything
else.” The waitress smiled back at him, then turned leaving Seth and Jezebel
alone.

“I’m going to forget your last comment, Jezebel, and you may
even leave this diner with both your eyes.” Seth continued in his charming
tone, “You see, I am a forgiving person and I’m going to let you make up for
the loss you’ve caused the Atumra by allowing one of our recruits to go to
AfterLife.

“You must understand that AfterLife is more than a
competitor, they are our adversary. Their beliefs go against everything we’re
working toward. They are soft, and don’t understand the complete inferiority of
antemorts. Instead, they want to live harmoniously with them. Now I need you to
tell me, Jezebel, are you starting to second-guess your decision to leave them
for the Atumra?”

“No! Never.” Jezebel poured some milk into her coffee from a
small glass cup. “I am fully committed to our purpose and am willing to serve.”
This statement was made with conviction and sounded more believable and less
forced than her previous pledges.

“I believe you.” Seth sipped his coffee. The drink’s
stimulating effects were lost on his Mortui body. “You want to earn your chance
to possess an antemort.”

Jezebel dropped her chin, lowering her eyes to avoid eye
contact with Seth. “Yes sir, I do.”

“I’m not going to ask your reasons for wanting such a
thing,” Seth said dismissively. He couldn’t understand any possible reason that
would motivate a Mortui to desire the life of an antemort after once having a
taste of Mortui power. The fact that Jezebel did desire antemort life only
added to her disposability. “I can tell you that you will have to work harder
now to achieve this goal.”

“Yes, sir. I can do that.”

“I said I was forgiving, but you will have to make up for
your failure. Wesley has an older brother. He, like Wesley, also has the
genetic predisposition to become a Mortui and should make a nice replacement
for the soldier you neglected to recruit.”

Jezebel was fixated on her coffee again and Seth was tempted
to once more tip over her cup, but then she looked up and began to slowly nod.

“Is your assignment clear, Jezebel?”

“Yes, sir, very clear.”

“Then we’re finished here,” Seth said. “Don’t disappoint me
this time.”

During his conversation with Jezebel, Seth had watched as
the other diner patrons finished their meals and left. He stood up from the
booth’s bench and walked over to the counter. In spite of the large amount of
energy he still enjoyed from the blond boy, he decided he would feed again.
“Excuse me, ma’am, can you direct me to the restroom?” He gave the waitress a
big smile.

“Sure, hon,” she said, smiling back, “it’s just down that
hallway.” She pointed down a poorly lit corridor situated to one side of the
counter, as she continued to clean up after the two men who had been sitting
there.

The hallway was lit by a dying fluorescent bulb that
struggled to illuminate the faded papered walls. On the way to the bathroom,
Seth passed doors that opened to the kitchen, a storage closet, and the women’s
restroom. The men’s bathroom door was locked. He quickly turned around and
walked back to the counter. “I’m sorry to bother you again,” Seth said to the
waitress, “but the bathroom door seems to be locked.” His charming smile
stretched across his face.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, we do lock them at night now. We had
some unwanted interactions takin’ place in them, if you know what I mean.” She
led Seth down the hallway and pulled out a set of keys.

Again, he’d found effortless prey. This antemort was also
making it too easy; he hardly considered this hunting. Seth had a handful of
excuses he was prepared to use to get the waitress separated from the rest of
the diner, but a locked door that only she could open simplified things
further.

After unlocking the door, the waitress turned to Seth and
smiled. “There you go, young man.”

“Thanks.” Seth smiled as he looked in her eyes and began
feeding. After a few seconds, the woman’s body dropped to the floor. It hadn’t
taken nearly as long as the young man had earlier; she didn’t have as much life
in her. Still, she did have more going on in her life. Her three children would
have to learn to live without their mother.

Seth made his way back to the booth where Jezebel was
sitting. “Don’t worry about the check,” he said, making his way out of the
diner. “I took care of it.”

“S
o Carter,
you’ve been with us a little less than three months. It seems like you’ve
caught on fairly quickly and you’re getting along just fine with the work here.
How do you feel about your job?”

Wes was seated at a small circular table in the corner of
his manager’s office. Today had not been a good day. The feelings of stress
during his “confinement” in this small town had continued to grow until he
thought he might explode or go crazy if something didn’t change soon. This
mindless job was not helping, and Wes felt particularly resentful at having to
sit through a worthless, three-month job evaluation.

At the sound of her voice, he glanced up from the dirty spot
he was staring at on the table’s laminate surface to look at Sandra sitting
opposite him. She was a small, mannish-looking woman. Her dark brown hair was
cut and styled in a mullet, a fashion that would have been considered stylish
for a man in the 80s. Her words traveled through a gap in her teeth where she
was missing the tooth on the left side of her two front ones. “I think I’m
getting along just fine. I’ve never worked retail before so that’s kind of new
for me, but I think I have the hang of it.” Wes finished his statement with a
nod and a forced smile.

“Well, we’re certainly happy to have you here. The footwear
department has never looked so good. You’ve been able to organize the storeroom
and you’re really great with the customers. The district manager commented on
things when she was here last week. Do you have any questions before we begin
your review?”

“No, I think I’m good,” Wes said, shaking his head.

“Great, let’s get started then.” Sandra turned over the
sheet of paper that was waiting face down on the table to reveal his review.
Being the standard company review, the page was laid out with a grid on one
side where Wes was given a score for various dimensions of job performance.
“Now this is based on a scale from one to five with five being the best. I’ve
rated you as a three in most areas. This is a very good rating, and you should
be proud of your accomplishment.”

Wes noticed that three was average, four above average, and
five excellent. His review didn’t seem to reflect the statements Sandra had
just made about his work before turning the sheet over. He reacted with
disappointment and anger. He was more thorough with his responsibilities than
any of the other employees; he deserved better than this! Squelching his
reaction, he reminded himself that it didn’t really matter; he wouldn’t be
working here very long. This menial job was just a tiny piece of his training,
not a career move, and once Emily felt he was ready to move on he’d be gone.

Still, the rating scale didn’t make any sense. If he was
making as much of a contribution as Sandra said, was he being given average
scores? The ratings were most likely linked to raises, he concluded, and
corporate America didn’t like to increase their bottom line with higher pay.

Sandra continued her review. “So, Carter, we have a great
interest in your professional future and want to help you grow. Where do you
see yourself in five years?”

“I don’t know, Sandra,” Wes said, thinking how comical the
question was considering he was dead. “I’m just kind of taking it one day at a
time right now.”

After the review Sandra thanked Wes for his time, to which
he jokingly responded it was really her time since he was getting paid. He
returned to the sales floor.

The rest of the day did not improve. It was an extremely
slow day in the mall, and as he stared across the empty department store, Wes
felt as if he was in hell and this was his punishment for dying. Taking those
pills had not been the answer to his problems but the cause of new and
potentially worse ones. After all, here he was, serving a sentence in the
middle of nowhere.

Wes walked up and down the rows of shoes straightening the
boxes for the third time in 20 minutes. Somehow, even with no customers in the
store, the stacks always seemed to get messed up. Today he really did feel like
a zombie. His body didn’t feel fatigued like it used to, but after only a few
hours he felt completely drained and brain dead as if he really was a body
without a soul.

On his third round through the department, Wes noticed an
elderly woman making her way through the nearby clothing racks. She selected a
couple of clearance items and draped them over her arm, holding them tightly as
she roughly shuffled through the other clothes. A few items came off their
hangers and fell to the floor as she pushed them down the rack. Periodically
she would pull something and hold it up for further inspection, but upon
finding it unacceptable she draped it over the clothes she had already shifted
through instead of hanging it back on the rack. Once done with the hanging
clothes, she shifted her attention to the shoe department.

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.