Page 95 of Aftermarket Afterlife

“Why is that not entirely reassuring?”

“Because you’ve met me, ever.” I looked over at Olivia. “How’s she doing?”

“She misses her parents. This is technically below her age range, but I think she’s seeking comfort in the familiar right now, since everything else is so strange. Verity says she’ll be here as soon as she can be—I’m leaving the rest for her to explain.”

Meaning Olivia didn’t know yet that her father was dead, assuming that would even be something that could be explained to her. I thought it was. Little kids are better at understanding death than people tend to assume they’re going to be, as long as you’re honest and upfront with them about it. If anything, the hard part would be making her understand that Daddy wasn’t going to come and haunt her the way that I did.

Olivia finally looked around from the shark’s aquatic adventures, perking up at the sight of me. “Mary!” she exclaimed, bouncing to her feet and running to hug me around the thighs. “You came home!”

“I did.”

She reached for my hand, tugging me with her back toward the TV. “C’mon. We’re watchingvideos.” She made it sound like the activity that would save the world, the secret key to survival.

I laughed and let her lead me, and as I settled with the little girl on the floor, her scooting her way into my lap, I couldn’t help thinking this was what life was meant to be like, always: children and television and thick carpets and safe homes. This was what I was willing to fight for, for everyone.

This was what we were going to protect.

Evelyn returned to her own chair, and together we watched the songs of the sea as they played out on the screen, and for a little while, I could pretend that everything was fine.

Nineteen

“Family is a thing you choose, and the minute you stop choosing it is the minute it all gets swept away.”

—Laura Campbell

In the kitchen of a small, suburban house in Columbus, Ohio, two days later, preparing to bring this whole damn adventure to an end

UNCLEMIKE HAD, INhis pragmatic way, decided he wasn’t going to bring questionably legal explosives to his own home, not when it was just as easy to bring them to Ohio and make them Alex’s problem. What was easier for him was also easier for me, since as soon as he’d appeared on Alex’s doorstep, Alex had started yelling for me, and even under the anima mundi’s new restrictions, I was allowed to answer when he called. So here we were.

Three unassuming gray metal cigars lay on the kitchen floor, each of them dull with some unspoken dread, as if they understood on a primal level that they were weapons of mass destruction, intended for nothing but exploding. Shelby had taken one look at Uncle Mike’s delivery and removed herself to the park, along with both children and Angela, leaving Mike, Alex, and Martin to stand in a rough semicircle in the kitchen, looking down at the bombs, which somehow managed to give the impression that they were lurking while being entirely motionless and also inanimate.

I stood on the far end of their circle, looking at the bombs right along with them. I glanced up at Mike. “What do I owe you?”

“Eh.” He waved a hand. “Call it a lifetime’s worth of birthday gifts I never gave you. We’re square. You’ve done more than enough to protect me and mine over the years.”

I wanted to argue. I wasn’t going to. He understood his finances better than I did, and we needed these bombs more than just about anything. I circled them, careful not to bump against the men, and asked, “All right. How do they work?”

“You pull this pin”—he crouched down and indicated what he meant—“then you turn this crank until it ejects the safety disks. At that point, your bomb is armed to fire. These are normally dropped from altitude, and they explode on impact. You can set them off manually with a hard-enough hit to the cap, or with sufficient fire.”

“Right. Antimony on deck,” I said, trying to sound optimistic. “This is going to go just fine.” The bombs being at Alex’s place meant he could call me back for the other two after I transported the first. I flashed a smile at all three men. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re already dead, or I’d ask you to try not to die,” said Martin.

“I’ll try not to vaporize my corporeal form, how’s that?” I asked.

Alex, unexpectedly, stepped over and hugged me. I tensed for a moment before I hugged him back, patting him on the shoulder with one hand. “Hey, kiddo,” I said. “It’ll be okay. We have a plan. It’s a good plan, even. It’s going to be just fine.”

“I don’t like this,” he said, giving me another squeeze before releasing me and stepping back. “I don’t like sending my sister and my babysitter and my cousin off to the enemy stronghold with a bunch of bombs and hoping that they’ll come back in one piece.”

“Your sister is a human flamethrower, your babysitter is a ghost, and your cousin respects the laws of physics only as a courtesy and not out of any obligation,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”

He forced a tremulous smile. “I suppose so.”

“Text Annie now.”

Her calling me back to Portland was an essential starting step. Alex nodded as he pulled out his phone. “I’m setting a timer,” he said. “I’ll start calling you back here in ten minutes, got it?”

“Got it,” I agreed, and looked to Martin. “I’m going to be in and out for a while. That okay?”

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