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each
other, at least some of them are peaceful and content.”
    Now Milton was confusing me even more, because he
said we were nice around him, but not around “normal” people—but
then what was he?
    “For all we know, some of them are gentler and more
humane now than when they were alive.”
    I still didn’t understand—was I a nicer person now
than before I woke up? But what was I before then? If I were alive
then, what was I now? I’m still not sure.
    “And some of them seem to remember a great deal.
They recognize each other, and they hold on to things, and I think
they’re happy, in a way. That’s why I wanted to keep these ones
apart. I think they’ll be happier here. And the violent ones can do
what it is they like to do somewhere else—biting and scratching and
tearing at things. And the living can be safe. Things are the way
they should be, I think.”
    Will shook his head. “If you say so, Milton. Just
seems weird to me.”
    “It’s not that different than what we’ve been doing
with our own dead. We don’t put them down or just herd them in with
others—we put them somewhere safe.”
    “I know, Milton, but we knew those people. You said
it was just too mean and impersonal to treat them like the others.
But even that’s a lot of trouble and danger to go to, even if you
knew the person. For these ones we don’t even know, it doesn’t seem
like it’s worth it.”
    Milton smiled and shook his head. “I think sometimes
you sound more like Jack than Jonah. Don’t you see that it’s no
real trouble for me to take care of these people more carefully,
spend more time with them? And if it makes them happier, then of
course it’s worth it.”
    I wanted to nod, and I really wanted to say
something out loud, but I also didn’t want them to know I was
listening.
    “I don’t know how happy dead people can be,
Milton.”
    Milton smiled again. He had the most peculiar smile,
and he seemed to smile a lot. “That’s funny, Will, because I often
wonder the same thing about living people. I haven’t noticed much
difference. I believe Jonah will remember better than I do that
there’s an old saying somewhere that we can’t be sure someone’s
happy until he’s dead.” He waved the younger man away. “Come, let’s
leave him alone. It seems rude to stand and stare at him. If you
choose not to call him happy, that’s fine. He’s at least safe from
us, and we’re safe from him, and that is certainly a good
thing.”
    They walked away and left me with all the new things
I had found. I spent all that day going through boxes, and I didn’t
even finish with everything in that first storage unit. I could see
that there must be dozens more in all the buildings, so I knew I’d
be busy for weeks or even months. I cleared a space near the door,
so I could sit on the sofa there, and I put a couple chairs in
front of the sofa, though none of the others seemed to want to sit
down, or really look closely at anything I’d found. They would just
wander in, pick something up, drop it, and wander back out. After a
while, I hid all the breakable things, or there’d be nothing left
but broken little bits all over. I wasn’t sure what we’d ever need
glasses or dishes for, but I got tired of seeing everything just
shatter on the concrete into useless little pieces.
    I found some clothes and I could finally get out of
the bloody, torn ones that I’d been wearing for so long. As I took
off the bloody jacket, a wallet fell out of the pocket. I picked it
up and looked at the contents. It held money, and I thought I
understood what money was for, but I couldn’t fit it into how
things worked in the real world. I knew you were supposed to give
money to other people to get things from them, but I didn’t see how
or why that was possible. Like the stuff in the storage unit,
things just sat around and people could pick them up—why would you
have to give someone something in order to get what you wanted? I
understood