Project Afterlife Pt.1

Montag Yuri took a sip of scotch and looked across the crowded bar. Feeling so out of place in this room full of strange bedfellows. Here stood all the men that tried to be but could never be. “Is this my life,” Montag shook his head in disgust. “I used to be more.” He stated to the half-empty glass of scotch.

“Do you ever find yourself thinking back? I don’t mean to this morning or last week, but—way back?” Said a stranger to his right, a woman whose eyes seemed to have cried a river not long ago.

“To me, this morning is way back. Especially on days like these. What I wouldn’t give to be on a fishing boat with my uncle Pak in the old homeland.” Montag couldn’t help feel a pain rip through his chest as he said that. His homeland is a place he could never return to. That man was dead. Montag Yuri was alive.

This stranger laughed. “Homeland, you Russian, cause you don’t sound like it?”

Montag knew he couldn’t say it. No one was supposed to know. “Na, Ohio. Work keeps me busy.”

“Where do you work?” This woman asked.

“Hawkins Community College. I’m a Science Professor.” He knew his talent was meant for more, but past transgressions brought him here.

Boredom sunk on both their faces; Montag decided to bring up a follow-up. “So, what did you mean by your question?” Montag asked. “About thinking back?”

“I’ve done a lot of things I regret. I wish I could go back to change it.” She said, raising her hand for the bartender to get her a drink.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Montag quietly said.


***

Montag stumbled back to his crumbling tiny apartment. Feeling more defeated when he left the bar. A part of him grew angrier with each step he took towards the door, feeling ten pounds of shame on his shoulders. “Remember you did it for them, not yourself, you fool!”

"Yes, yes, yes!” Montag bitterly said to his pestering inner voice as he walked through the darkroom.

“Don’t move, Professor,” an icy voice whispered behind him. “Don’t say a word.”

Montag Yuri did as instructed. His heart sank as he spied the ominous figure standing between him and the door.

Black body armor protected the tall, imposing intruder, while an equally dark hood concealed his features.
“Sit,” the intruder said, indicating the chair that faced the desk in the distance.

He had no idea who this particular costumed grotesque was or what he wanted, just that the armed stranger radiated menace. “What do you want? I have no money. Nothing worth taking. I have books, do you want books!?” Montag’s snarky tone earned him a strike to the ribs and a forced push to his desk.

“Don’t test me.” Warned the intruder. “I can do much worst to you.” His voice was so calm yet menacing.

“Please,” Montag whimpered. “Just tell me what you want.”

“We’re going to have a conversation…about the work you did for the Russian Government.” The intruder paced around the hunched Montag, who placed his weight on the desk. “I want to know everything you did with the project AFTERLIFE.”

“I know nothing of which you speak of. You have me confused for someone else, my friend. I am just a humble professor for a community college.” Montage lied through his teeth.

“No lies, professor. Or the ones you love will suffer a pain worst than death.”

“What love ones?” Montag felt panic grip him.

“These love ones.” The intruder dropped photos of his wife Mia and his daughter Lille. “You disappeared from the face of the earth, but you forget that your shadows follow wherever you go.”

“Please, no.” Tears streaked the professor’s cheeks. The photos of his family rested on his desk, reminding Montag just how much he had to lose. “Ask me anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Yes, you will.” The intruder drew one of the knives from his back pocket. “Eventually.”