Fiction: Afterlife Volume 3 (Chapter 19)

If you’ve never read Afterlife before, click here to go to the first chapter.

Afterlife is a sci fi/western action serial published every other week. Join us in a post-apocalyptic journey through a future where life has become little more than a struggle for survival. However, where there’s life, there’s always hope.

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Read the previous chapter here:

Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 18

Where:

Abby does some soul searching and decides to study military strategy and tactics.
Matt and Mavery learn that General Rodriguez has arrived in Rose City.
Razor kills Simone Blaze in a gladiator battle.

Find the Volume 3 Table of Contents page here.

View the Map here.

Check out Afterlife on Goodreads and don’t forget to rate it.

 

Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 19

The auditorium was filled with people.  Paul figured there were at least five hundred in attendance.  The room itself was old and looked it, though it was probably one of the newer buildings in Denver.  The inner walls were wood.  The exterior was stone.  The upholstery in the chairs was starting to tear in places and there was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, but it wasn’t being used.  The light was provided by circular fixtures in the walls.  Like lots of buildings in Denver, it had the look of new built over old, and though people had tried to renovate over the years, the building’s age had caught up with it.  Paul looked up to see that at least the ceiling was intact.

Most of the people in the auditorium were sitting in the theater-style chairs but some were standing along the walls.  Though there were still some people who appeared to have features associated with specific racial backgrounds, most of the people in the crowd appeared to be a mix of several races.  Paul figured this was what happened when there were only a few people left in a society.  There was no room for racism or segregation.  Not if the human race was to continue to survive.  Most people had noticeable tumors of different shapes and sizes somewhere on their heads, faces, and necks.  Paul figured those who didn’t had probably been newcomers like him at some point in recent decades.  He was sitting with Aiyana and her family since she was the Denverite he was closest too, though he’d seen other doctors and nurses he recognized.  He’d also seen and said hello to Noah Maxwell, the trader who had brought him to Denver.  As Paul sat next to Aiyana, he took note that her mother’s family seemed to be one of the groups who’d retained their racial features to some extent.  He wondered if this had something to do with the reverence people in Denver seemed to have for Native Americans.

An older man in a brown robe stepped up to a wooden podium on the stage of the auditorium and smiled out at the crowd.  His eyes were sunken, he had a thick moustache, and there was a very small tumor under his chin.  “This is the sixth town hall meeting of the year 3612 post apocalypse,” the old man said through the outdated speaker system.  “I’m Praetor Calloway, for those who don’t know me.  I’ll briefly go over the rules for those of you who are newcomers or haven’t been in a while.”

“Listen closely,” Aiyana whispered to Paul, who nodded.  She grasped his hand for a second and he got excited.  Then, she took it away.  Paul turned to see her glance at him and he smiled.  She smiled back, filling him with excitement once again.  It was hard for him to concentrate.

“Only speak if you are called on,” the praetor continued, though Paul felt like he missed something.  “I’ll try to get to everyone, but we’ll have another meeting in a month, so if it’s not extremely important, I suggest waiting until the end to see if we have time.  Let’s try to get through the crucial stuff first, folks.  You’ll have two minutes to state your case.  If someone after you argues against your point, I’ll give them thirty seconds to counter.  We’ll go back and forth until the issue is resolved.  If there’s an action that needs to be taken, you can request a vote with each person counting once yay or nay.  The meeting is two hours.  That should leave time for between thirty and fifty discussions.  So raise your hand if you have something to discuss.”

Paul had trouble concentrating as the praetor called on the first few people.  They talked about farming equipment, school lunches, and other things Paul had no interest in.  The praetor asked one person if they could wait until the end to bring up their topic, which involved cockroaches showing up on his property.  Paul spent most of his time trying to pretend he wasn’t more interested in Aiyana than he was in the proceedings.  He glanced at her several times, and once she glanced at him and their eyes met.  She smiled briefly and turned away.  Paul was finally interested when the praetor called on Noah Maxwell.  The trader, who was sitting a few rows ahead of Paul, stood and looked around at the people in the auditorium with a smile.  He was wearing a dark grey robe and his long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail.  “So,” he began, “as many of you know, we traders have been having some trouble contacting Rennock’s people lately.  The last time I went out, I was unable to meet my contact, so I had to turn and come back emptyhanded other than the stuff I’d brought with me.  We may have to consider a course of action if things continue this way.  Our pact with the Council of Atlantis severely limits who we can trade with, and we rely on Rennock for all of our manufactured goods.  Of course, any suggestions are welcome, but we may have to consider rethinking the pact if things continue to go on in this way.”

Another man sitting near Noah raised his hand and the praetor called on him.  When he stood, Paul could see that he was a tall man with a very conspicuous tumor which covered most of his face.  “I, too am a trader, as most of you know.  I’ve spoken with other Survivors from the Black Peaks.  As most of you know, the pact states that we are allowed to make contact with other Survivors without any consequences.” He glanced at Paul.  “It’s Outsiders who there are strict laws regarding.  So these Survivors said that there’s a new group of Outsiders who call themselves the International Anarchy Organization, IAO for short, who are becoming a force to be reckoned with.  I think it’s possible that they’re overtaking the Council of Atlantis.  If this is the case, we may want to consider possibly maybe meeting with them and making a pact with them in the future.”

Paul immediately stood.  “We can’t make a pact with the IAO.”

Everyone turned to look at him and the praetor frowned.  “You’re new here,” the old man said.  “Perhaps I need to go over the rules again.  You cannot stand and speak unless called on.  We have to maintain order.”

Paul nodded.  “I’m sorry, sir.  May I speak?”

“You may,” the praetor said.

“Thank you,” Paul said.  “And I’ll say again that I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen.  But I’ve dealt with the IAO.  I’ve seen the types of things they do and the types of people they are.  They’re criminals.  They’re sneaky and destructive.  If you let them, they’ll send moles here and take over the entire city.  They’ll steal everything you have or destroy it for fun.  That’s what they’ve done out there.”  He nodded towards the door of the auditorium.  “The only way to keep the IAO from destroying you is to fight them.  I know you’re a peaceful people.  I know you don’t believe in war or weapons.  But that’s all the IAO understand.  You can’t trust them.  They’d never honor any sort of pact or deal.”

The praetor nodded and called on a woman on the opposite side of the auditorium.  “Rennock is strong.  He has weapons.  More than anyone.  We can rely on him to protect us as we always have.  We have no need to fight.”

The praetor looked at Paul.  “Would you like to counter?”

Paul nodded.  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I disagree. Rennock won’t protect you if he’s threatened by an outside force.  He’d break a pact in a heartbeat if it suited his needs.  You need to find a way to fight.  You can’t rely on Rennock.  Once the IAO find you, they’ll destroy you.”

The praetor looked at an old man sitting at the end of the row of seats where Aiyana and Paul were sitting.  The old man had a wrinkled face with squinting eyes and a bald head, and he was wearing a black robe.  He was Sicheii Tallfeather, Aiyana’s grandfather.  “Sicheii,” the praetor said with a smile.  “You have thoughts on this matter?”

The old man stood slowly, and all eyes were on him.  The auditorium seemed quieter.  “My granddaughter’s friend,” he said in a raspy voice that sounded like a whisper but still filled the auditorium, “knows these people better than any of us, being himself an Outsider until very recently.  We would be unwise to ignore what he has to say.”  He looked down the row and smiled at Paul.  “However, we are a peaceful people.  We have no weapons and do not fight.  We must keep it this way for our children and our grandchildren and for their children and grandchildren.  We have survived peacefully for many generations in this way.”  He smiled at Paul again.  “Our friend here does not know this way, but I know he will come to love it as the years go by and he comes to know peace.  That being said, we must trust his wisdom until we have some more information for ourselves.  From what he says, it sounds like it would be very dangerous to allow this International Anarchy Organization to find out where we are.  We have a pact with Rennock’s people, not with them.  We must find more information.  We must send out traders and scouts disguised as traders who can reach out to Rennock’s people and to the other groups of Survivors scattered throughout the mountains.  When we have more information, we can make a plan of action.  Until then, we can rely on ourselves and our abilities.  We can trade amongst ourselves, and perhaps amongst the other Survivors.  We have survived thousands of years and will continue to do so.  I have faith in our people.”  With that, he sat down.  Many of the people in the room clapped.

The praetor nodded.  “Very well.  Shall we have a vote then?  We either contact the IAO or we stay to ourselves for now until we have more information.  Those favoring contact raise your hands.”  There were ten or twelve hands in the air.  It didn’t take him long to count them.  “Those favoring playing the waiting game raise your hands.”  Hundreds of hands went up.  Paul didn’t raise his.  “Very well,” the praetor said.  “So we play the waiting game and try to obtain more information.  I agree with Sicheii.  This seems to be a good course of action.”

“You didn’t raise your hand,” Aiyana whispered to Paul.

Paul frowned.  “I need to find a way to fight.”  He raised his hand.

The praetor noticed him and frowned.  “You’ve already spoken today.”

“It’s important,” Paul said.  “It’s in regard to what we just talked about.”

“There was a vote,” the praetor said.  “The matter is closed.”

“I’ll be quick.”

The praetor shook his head.  “Very well.  Since you’re new here.  What’s your issue now?”

“I’d like to be given permission to leave,” Paul said.  “Pardon me for speaking to the point, sir.  But I’m a warrior.  I’ve been fighting for years now against Rennock and the IAO and others like them.  If I can’t do that here, I need to leave.  I can’t sit still and do nothing when there’s so much injustice in the world.”

“No one can leave,” the praetor said.  “That’s against the rules and you know it.  We can’t allow it.  The world outside is no longer your business.  Now you’ve said your peace.  Sit down.”  He was visibly frustrated, as were many in the audience.

Paul frowned, nodded, and sat slowly.  “We’ll figure something out,” Aiyana whispered.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll find a way to deal with this issue.  Stay here with us, though.  We need you.”  She smiled at him.

“Yeah,” Paul said.  He wasn’t optimistic.  The meeting went on for another hour and a half or so.  People brought up various topics regarding farming and trading, but none of it interested Paul.  He was back to trying to think of a way to escape.  The IAO would find Denver eventually.  They’d find them and they’d milk the city for everything it had.  Or they’d blow it off the face of the Earth.  Paul had to find a way out into the outside world once again so he could join back with the resistance and find a way to fight.  As he was thinking, Aiyana grasped his hand and squeezed it.

<>

As Razor was walking back to the female gladiator quarters from lunch, she recognized Star, the bald gladiator who had come to her aide when Simone Blaze had tried to pick a fight with her in the cafeteria the other day.  “Hey,” Razor said.

Star frowned and turned away.  “Don’t talk to me.”

Razor was confused.  “Are you mad at me for some reason?”

“We just can’t talk,” Star said.  “That’s all.  I might have to kill you one day.”  Razor stopped at her door and frowned as she watched Star walk away quickly.  She opened the door and went into her room, closing the door behind her.  She’d been given some gifts after winning her gladiator fight against Simone.  People from the town had sent her flowers, food, chocolates, even clothes and various other things.  She’d thrown it all into the hallway and slammed the door.  Her room, or cell as she saw it, was the same gray rock cube it has always been.  She flipped the switch to turn the bare bulb on, filling the gray with soft white light, and she sat on her cot.  She glanced at the door to her bathroom.  And the metal closet which contained three gray jumpsuits just like the one she was wearing.  She was as much a prisoner as she’d always been.  The door opened and Jenny slipped through, her finger to her lips as she closed the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” Razor asked.  “Don’t you know what they’d do if they saw you?”

“There weren’t any guards in the hall,” she said.  “I checked before I came in.”  She had a sexy smile with her full lips and big, brown eyes.  “Besides, you got more privacy in here than the rest of us.  This room’s kind of nice, actually.”

“They just need to look through the barred window in the door,” Razor said.

“That’s why we turn the light out.”  She sat on the bed next to Razor.  “Besides, they always say as long as we mind our own business we can do what we want.”

“You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap,” Razor said.  “If they knew there was a black woman with a white woman…”

“As far as they know we’re friends havin’ a talk,” Jenny said.  “That’s what we are anyway, right?”

Razor chuckled.  “Sure.”  She sighed.  “I’m more worried about you than anything else.  They won’t do anything to me, but you…”

“I can take care of myself,” Jenny said with a smile as she put her arms around Razor.  “Now, since I met you and you told me your name was Razor, I’ve been dyin’ to find out what your real name is.  Can you just tell me now?”

Razor looked into her eyes and shook her head.  “I’m sorry.”  She inched away.

Jenny pulled her arms back.  “So it just has to be Razor?”

Razor smiled.  “It just has to be Razor.”

Jenny nodded.  “You didn’t sit with us at lunch today.”

Razor shook her head.  “I had my first fight.  I really didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Well I guess you won since you’re alive,” Jenny said.

“I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“Who’d they have you fight?” Jenny asked.  “I saw Star Saturn today so it wasn’t her.  I saw Killer Cobra and Medusa.”  She thought for a few seconds and smiled.  “No!  Really?”  Razor was almost disturbed at how gleeful Jenny seemed.  “You killed that bully Simone Blaze, didn’t you?”

Razor let out a deep breath.  “There wasn’t anything good about it.”

“What do you mean?” Jenny asked.  “You’re gonna be a hero now.  You know how many people she killed?  You know how on edge we all were around her?”

Razor frowned.  “A hero?  A hero for who?  For a bunch of Nazis?  They sent me gifts and I threw them all out in the hall.  I don’t want to be a white power hero.”

Jenny nodded.  “I see.  Well it’s better than bein’ dead, ain’t it?”

Razor shrugged.  She was starting to feel sick.  The morning sickness was kicking in hard.  “Hold on a second.”  She went into the bathroom and shut the door.  She knelt down and threw up into the metal toilet several times.

When she came out of the bathroom, Jenny was looking at her with surprise.  “What’s wrong?  A stomach bug?  You’re pregnant or something?”  She saw something in Razor’s expression and smiled.  “You’re pregnant.  Girl, I’m learnin’ all sorts of stuff about you today.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Razor said.

“They won’t care,” Jenny said.  “People get pregnant here all the time.  Besides, it’s a white baby.  They’ll all pine over it and talk about how cute it is.  Even the guards.  They all have a weak spot for white babies.  I’ve seen it before.”

Razor frowned and shook her head.  “It won’t be like that at all.”

“It was with a black man?” Jenny asked.  She looked into Razor’s eyes with empathy.  “It was a black man.”

“Do you think what Lemmy said was true?” Razor asked.  “About the cage and the rats?  What Brevington does to women pregnant with biracial babies?”

Jenny frowned.  “I don’t know.  But he won’t do nothin’ good, you can count on that.”

“That’s why I have to find a way to get out of here,” Razor said.  “I have a long way to go before the baby’s born.  But I can’t be here when that happens.”

Jenny nodded and moved closer to her.  “Can you take me with you?  I know a lot about raisin’ babies.”

Razor thought about Ramona Perez and the night she’d spent with her.  She remembered Ramona pleading with her to come back some day.  She remembered Bobby as she put her hand on her belly.  “I don’t know.”

“Bring me with you,” Jenny said, smiling at Razor as she moved closer.

Razor turned away.  “Have you always lived here in the mines?”

Jenny shook her head.  “They got me when I was ten.  They raided my town ‘cause they knew it was all black people.  They killed a bunch of the men and took the rest of us away.  Two of those racist hypocrites raped me.”  Razor could see the anger in her eyes.  “That was the end of my childhood.  I’ve been working in the mines ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” Razor said.

“We’ve all been through rough times,” Jenny said, looking into Razor’s eyes.

“I’m surprised you don’t just hate all white people after what happened to you.”

“No,” Jenny said.  “I don’t.  Everyone’s responsible for themselves.  I’ve met good white people just like I’ve met bad white people.  Same goes for black people, Hispanics, everybody.  It’s lazy to think everyone of a race is evil just because someone did somethin’ evil to you.”  Razor nodded and Jenny turned and smiled back at her.  “Well that’s enough depressin’ talk,” she said.  She leaned in and they kissed.  Razor stood, turned off the light, and walked back to the bed.  She pulled the covers over them as they kissed again, their arms around one another.  Razor tried to keep thoughts about getting caught and the repercussions that would bring out of her head.  She tried to just enjoy the moment.  It had been a while since she’d let herself enjoy anything.  It took some time, but once Razor got into it, there was no holding back.

<>

Della walked into the café and immediately noticed Matt sitting by the window holding a coffee drink with whipped cream, sexy as ever.  And his yellow shirt was buttoned all the way to the top, of course.  He smiled and waved as Della sat across from him.  “So what do you recommend?” Della asked.  “Something cold, I’m guessing.  A cold shoulder sandwich maybe?”

“Come on,” Matt said.  “I’m with Victor now.  What did you want me to kiss you hello in front of him?”

“A little warmness would have been nice,” Della said.  “Instead of acting like you’ve never met me.  We were together for two years.”

“I’ve been with Victor for three,” Matt said.

Della shook his head.  “Pour salt on the wound, why don’t ya?”

Matt nodded.  “I’m sorry.  You didn’t deserve what happened.”

“You said the same thing then,” Della said.  “It means just as little now.  I mean, I woke up one morning and you were gone.  No warning.  No nothing.  Then I get a message saying you had to move to Rose City?  Out of the blue?  I mean, good job or not, you just don’t treat people like that.”

“We were having our issues,” Matt said as he sipped his coffee drink, getting some whipped cream on his nose which he wiped off.  Della tried to ignore how cute he looked.  “If you hadn’t cheated on me, it would have gone down differently.”

“Are we really gonna go through that again, honey?” Della asked.  “I was drunk and stupid.  It was a one night thing with an ex I hadn’t seen in years.  You told me you’d forgiven me.  Then you were gone.”

“I forgave you,” Matt said.  “I didn’t forget.  And you never treated me as good as Victor does, anyway.  With you, it was always about Della.  Your performing and your singing.  And even the resistance.  For you it always just seemed like another way to show off.  Then you go off and cheat on me with a famous actor.  What was I supposed to think?  How can I compete with that?”

“Cecil isn’t that famous,” Della said.  “You’d been gone for a while and I got drunk and did something stupid.  I told you about it.  I didn’t have to tell you about it.”  The waitress appeared to take Della’s order.  “I’ll have a double shot of espresso.  Black.”  She nodded and walked away.  “Anyway, I’m sorry I brought it up.  Let’s let bygones be bygones.  We’re friends now.”

Matt nodded.  “Sure.  Friends.  I guess we’ll have to be if we’re gonna be living in the same town now.  Possibly working with the same people.  Have you found a job here yet?”

Della nodded.  “Bodyguard for Mavery Thomas.  I was guarding Abigail Song and I intend to continue doing that once I find her, but until then…”

“That’s good,” Matt said.  “Someone tried to kill Mavery, as I’m sure you know.  She needs all the help she can get.”  He grinned sardonically.  “And I’m sure you’ll find your usual singing gig from time to time to supplement your income, and your ego.”

“Touché,” Della said.

“Sorry,” Matt said.  “I couldn’t resist.”

Della rolled his eyes.  “So I have another friend who’s in trouble.  And I always help a friend in need.”

Matt shook his head.  “I can’t believe you consider Ace McCoy of all people a friend.”

Della nodded.  “He’s not what everyone’s made him out to be.  Either way, he was helping the resistance before y’all threw him into a jail cell.  We’d been stealing from Rennock’s banks.  Under orders from Abigail Song herself.  She was with us, for heaven’s sake.  She was robbing the banks right along with us.  What are you gonna throw her in jail when she gets here?  What about me?  Are you gonna throw me in jail too?”  The waitress placed his drink in front of him and he thanked her.

“I still don’t know how you can drink that motor oil,” Matt said.

Della sipped his drink and it gave his taste buds the hit he wanted.  Soon the hit from the caffeine would follow.  “I still don’t know how you can drink that sugary crap.  It’s like candy in a coffee cup.”

“Anyway,” Matt said, “Ace McCoy and Annabelle Rose killed people.  They killed people and then told the papers about it.  They bragged about it.  They killed enforcers and civilians both.  Innocent people.”

“I don’t remember them ever bragging about killing civilians,” Della said.  “Those were Rennock’s enforcers in the article I read.”

“But they killed civilians,” Matt said.

“Allegedly,” Della countered.

Matt gave him the eye.  “You’re telling me the whole time they were with you, they didn’t kill any civilians?”

Della remembered the man with the doctor’s slip and his son and wife.  Ace had killed the son, though he had been running towards Annabelle.  “There was one, but it was self-defense.  At least I think he could have made a good case for it.”

Matt shook his head.  “Our prosecutors have found five solid murder cases they’re planning on nailing him for.  There’s lots of evidence.  They’ve even managed to find three witnesses.  Two bank clerks and a former sheriff who all migrated here recently.  You may be a character witness, but you weren’t there when these crimes were committed.  These people were.  He has to stand trial.  It’s going to be a fair trial.  But I have to be honest, Della.  It doesn’t look good for your new friend.”

Della frowned and swigged his espresso.  “Is there any other way to get him out?  You have some clout around here.”

“I’m not gonna use it to free a known criminal.”

“Is there any other way?”  Della looked into his eyes.  “I’m dead serious.  Be honest with me.”

Matt shrugged.  “Sure, but it’ll never happen.  He can get out on a military pardon.”

“A military pardon?” Della asked.  “How does that work?”

“The Lead Council of the Free Society Federation has to vote unanimously that the person in question is integral to the survival of the resistance,” Matt said.  “There must be at least nine members present to vote, though.  And with the recent deaths, we only have two permanent members and six acting members.  That makes eight.  And of those eight, one’s missing, that being Abby, so…”

Della sighed.  “So assuming Abby comes, you need to find another member.  The resistance can’t function without its leadership.”

“We’re doing what we can for now,” Matt said.  “Even so, assuming we do have everyone present, there’s no way everyone would vote to free him.  I, for one, would never do that.”

“Well let’s see what happens when Abby gets here,” Della said.

“It won’t change anything,” Matt said as he sipped his drink.

“You’d be surprised, honey,” Della said with a wink.  “Abby can be very persuasive.”  He finished his espresso.  “Well, I need to go now.   I wish I could say it’s been nice.”  He chuckled and looked into Matt’s eyes.  “It was nice to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Matt said with a smile.  For a split second, Della felt like it was old times.  But the feeling went away fast when Matt frowned and looked down at his drink.  Della got up and left the cafe.  On his walk home, he tried to get Matt out of his mind.  He needed to find someone new.  A one night stand if nothing else.  Della decided to go out that night.  Ace’s trial was only a few days away and he needed to get his mind off things.

 

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYfotpa02fc]

 

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Continue on to the next chapter:

Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 20
Where:
Ayman Ali and the Wild Joe Rodeo Show run into another predicament.
Jim Brantley has a discussion with Warrick Baines.
The International Anarchy Organization conduct public executions in New Atlantis.

Find the Volume 3 Table of Contents page here.

View the Map here.

Check out Afterlife on Goodreads and don’t forget to rate it.

Check out Michael Monroe’s page on Amazon to find other stuff he’s written.
Like Afterlife on Facebook to find out when the next chapter is posted.
Follow Afterlife on Twitter to get updates on new postings and other news.
Follow Afterlife on Tumblr for access to supplemental material.