Page 44 of After Life
“Are these people?” I murmured. “Or is it the island?”
“People,” Jeremiah grunted. “Very definitely people. The Wreckers, though...” He jerked his chin at the ocean behind me. “They’ve never been like us.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand the thought of being near the water. I pushed myself forward, that sluggish drag against each step making me ache as I moved toward the fires.
“Stop! Fucking hell, you idjit!” Jeremiah moved fast, a dark blur in the night, grabbing my arm to haul me back toward the water. “They need you,” he snarled. “They need to offer something to the Wreckers and you’re it! Do you want to be taken?”
“Taken where?”
“Wherever’s past that,” he snapped, pointing out at the water.
Two massive ships darkened the horizon, full-masted and round-bellied. They were shadows against the strange glow of the hurricane sky, not moving with the waves, not making a sound. Between the two of them, a bright line stretched. Shining white-green and thin as thread, it trembled as I stared at it, slowly thickening until it looked about the width of my arm. “Is that... is that the crossing?” I asked, remembering what the book called it. “Where the Wreckers come from?”
Jeremiah nodded. “I don’t know what’s across there, just that some of us can go easily, but others can’t even get close.”
“Why not?”
Jeremiah sighed. “I don’t know.” His grip on my arm tightened and a strange look flickered over his features. Sadness, hunger maybe. “What does it feel like? When I touch your arm?”
“What? Pressure. Not like a living person doing it. Colder than the living.”
Jeremiah grunted, closed his eyes and dropped his hand. “I can’t even feel that. If you go, if you let them take you... It’s your body Sandra wants for me. It’d mean your death, for me to feel again. And you... would be here, with the spirits who need you.” His opened his eyes and stared out at the green light on the water.
The light was a steady pale green now. Like the tulips I had once, a soft voice murmured next to me.
I found some for you, when you died, another voice whispered. I hoped you knew.
I knew, I knew...
The dark figures around the fire had stopped their work and were facing the ocean now. The storm overhead had stopped turning. Everything felt heavy, pressing down on me. The speakers on either side of me were quiet but I could feel them next to me. Ghosts, I thought, but something felt off. “When did you die?” I murmured. “What’s your name?”
“Diana Gleeson,” the first one replied. “I don’t remember. I know I was scared. I’ve been waiting here for such a long time. So long...”
“Johnathan Gleeson,” the other voice whispered. “I don’t know either. I don’t remember much before I came down here.”
Jeremiah spoke from behind me. “There are others. Here so long, they’re worn thin with it. They know you’re here.”
Diana sighed near my ear. “The storm is stronger this time.”
The light between the ships was bright, blinding if I looked too long. It reminded me of hospital overheads, the glare and flicker, more white now than green. Overhead, the storm was churning, the hole in the clouds closing. “What’s going to happen?”
Johnathan’s low chuckle was seagrass-raspy. “We don’t know.”
The light pulsed, obscuring the dark ships. The waves smoothed and the water became glassy-smooth. Overhead, the hole in the clouds finally closed and all was dark.
The fires were still, fractured like broken glass against the shadowed mass of the rocky slope.
The people-shapes were watching, unmoving. I could feel their eyes on me, or maybe they were staring out at the water. I turned from the light and started toward the unmoving fires. “I don’t understand what’s happening. I... Where’s Julian?” I asked, peering at the shapes. “He was at the house, wasn’t he?”
My head ached. Everything felt like so much jelly, wobbling and homogeneous. He hates marmalade, the wild thought burst from that muddled tangle. He’d appreciate the jelly, though. It’s got no bits in it.
Where is he? The shapes were difficult to discern beyond being human-like. The glow from the unmoving flames showed the occasional flash of an eye, the curve of a jaw, but I couldn’t make out features. More voices, soft and thin, rushing like sea foam on sand, stirred as I neared the cluster of dark figures.
Can he see us?
Isn’t he one of those? The ones that see us?
Help! Hey! Can you hear us?
