Page 22 of Aftermarket Afterlife

Antimony snorted clear amusement. “You might be better off asking what the hell is a Greg, but I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“She didn’t say any of that. I don’t like this thing where you have telepaths who can just drop information into your heads without informing the rest of the class,” said Sally sourly.

“Sorry, hon,” said Alice. “She’s being careful with you, because you’re new.”

“Don’t worry,” said Arthur, coming in from the kitchen with a tide of mice at his heels. “That won’t last.”

He sounded bitter, and so sad that I wanted to go to him and tell him things were going to be all right. I didn’t, because there was a very good chance they weren’t going to be. He moved to take one of the remaining open seats, and the mice spread out through the room like a drop of food coloring swirling into a glass of milk, until they were everywhere, the floor, the furniture, the people. They just kept on coming, dozens of them becoming hundreds, finally tapering off as what must have been the entire resident colony joined us in the living room.

I can hear you, said Sarah’s voice in my head, as clear as if she were standing next to me. From the way everyone but Arthur and Elsie twitched, or tensed, or angled their heads, I wasn’t the only one; she was close enough to be broadcasting to us all. Of course, with her recent increases to her range, that didn’t really tell me much.

Greg and I are out by the firepit; I’ll listen to the meeting from here,she continued.I don’t think I should bring him into the living room with new people, but I need him or I’m going to panic, and that would be...very not good.

I was willing to believe her on that one.

“Okay, honey,” I said under my breath. “You just let us know if you have anything you want to contribute.”

Sarah didn’t answer, but I felt her approval.

Sam pushed himself out from under the television. “Okay, that should get it,” he said. “Jimmy, you wanna?”

James tapped the keyboard, and a loading screen sprung up on the television, quickly subdividing into multiple small black boxes, each with its own spiraling hold symbol.

“We’re ready,” he said. “Opening the meeting now.”

There was nothing to do after that but wait.

Five

“Yeah, no. Forgiveness isn’t an obligation. It doesn’t get to be. You forgive someone when you want to, or when the anger gets too heavy to carry around anymore. No one gets to tell you it’s time. Time may never come.”

—Rose Marshall

The living room of a small survivalist compound about an hour’s drive east of Portland, Oregon, surrounded by more people (and mice) than is necessarily comfortable

ONE BY ONE, THElittle loading spirals vanished and were replaced by familiar faces, some more anxious than others. Verity and Dominic were the first to come online, their backdrop a stony gray wall and the glitter of carelessly mounded-up gold. That wasn’t the real attention-grabber of the scene, though, and neither was the blood on Dominic’s lip or the massive shiner covering Verity’s left eye.

No, that honor went to the reptilian head the size of a Volkswagen Beetle that peered curiously out from between and well behind them, far enough back to be contained within the small frame. The dragon—because that couldn’t be anything other than an adult male dragon, even if it had been trying to be something else—had pearly green scales and pumpkin-orange eyes, and an expression of deep concern.

The mice cheered as the absent family members appeared, rejoicing in the image of their gods, and then fell eerily silent, so they could make note of every word and intonation. They had already decided, in their strange Aeslin way, that this was one of those moments that was going to be recreated beat for beat at some seemingly random point in the future.

“Hey, Livvy,” said Verity, exhaling in her relief as she waved to her daughter through the screen. Dominic waved as well, although he didn’t smile as widely as his wife, probably out of a desire not to split his lip even further.

Olivia pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “Can I come home now, Mom?”

“Sorry, baby, but it’s not safe right now,” said Verity.

“But I don’t want to be here!” Livvy waved her free hand wildly, still holding on to me with the other. “I wanthome.”

“Soon, pumpkin,” said Dominic.

“I want my daddy,” said Livvy. She sounded totally miserable. “I want home.”

I winced. She was too young to really understand what was about to happen, and too old for us to assume she wouldn’t pick up enough to be terrified. “Do you want to go see Greg?” I asked her.

“Greg?”

“He’s outside, with Sarah,” I said. “I can take you there.”

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