Afterland (8 page)

“You take these sticks and unfold them,” Desmond continues. “As so. Now you do the rest of them.” I unfold them, pleasantly surprised at how easily they pop into place. When I’m done, the outline of a tent is already in place.

“Now just fasten the straps on the inside to the poles.” I climb into it and find the small velcro straps. When I climb back out, it already looks like a decent living space.

“Talk to Big Sal about anything that you need that you didn’t think to bring. Make sure to get plenty of blankets. It gets cold at night. After you get settled in, talk to Rebekah and Emily. Weapons and survival will be your first steps of training. In terms of how your training is structured, the gist of it is, you train for three to four months in various combat techniques and once you’re ready, you go on your first raid. You start training tomorrow.”
              “Okay. Thank you.”

I drop my backpack into the tent and survey it from the inside. It has a small pocket on either side and a zipper door and window. It is made of gray synthetic cloth. I wonder where they found all of this. After the Eruption, so many things had burned.

“Also,” Desmond adds after I come out, “here’s a bag for you to keep. Put the things you carry around every day in it.” He hands me a small backpack.

“Oh, thanks.” I place my bowl and cutlery in it. I’m extremely excited about all of this, but I’m also nervous and very overwhelmed. What if I forget? What if I don’t learn? What if I’m not good at anything? What if I made the wrong choice?

I push those thoughts aside and go to find Rebekah. She is scolding a chicken at the edge of the clearing. I recognize her by the oversized jacket.

“Um...Hi. Sorry to interrupt. I’m Molly. I was, uh, told to find you.”

“Yes. Good. My name is Rebekah. You know how the name Rebekah has the nickname Bekie?” I nod. “Do not ever call me that. I will kill you in your sleep,
ich verspreche
. So then, Molly, let us begin right away. Tell me this: if I left you in the woods only with a simple weapon, how long do you think until you will ie?”

“Um...I don’t know.”

“Give me an estimate.”

“Maybe several weeks?” I honestly have no idea of my survival capabilities, but that seems like a reasonable enough guess.

“Not good enough. You should survive forever. Do you know how to make a fire using...What is the word?”

“Friction?” I supply.

“Yes, exactly, good. Do you?”

“Yes, of course.” That was the first thing my parents had taught me after the Eruption.

“Good. Do you know how to hunt or fish?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“Can you distinguish the foods you can eat from the ones that will kill you?”

“Some of them.”

“Enough to survive?”

“Maybe not.”

“Not good enough. You need to learn to live using the forest. Can you find a water source?”

“Sure.”

“You do not sound very certain.”

“I’m not.”

“Uncertainty is not good enough in the wild. Tomorrow, we will get you a proper weapon and I will teach you the easy survival skills. I will just explain the important things now, because I don’t want to use more time than we have to. Your deadlines are: three weeks until you starve, three days until you die because you had no water, and it will be only hours until you freeze if you stay stationary. Remember that three days and three weeks are only estimates, and your body may not be able to handle so much time. Even if you can, you will be in a critical condition and almost dead much sooner than that. Find a shelter near a water source. I will teach you how to do that soon. Find food and water as soon as you can, so that you always have resources. Tomorrow we will go on a trip through the woods. You should get to know what these woods are like, so you will always be able to find your way back home. I will point out the edible mushrooms and plants to you. You must memorize. We will begin after breakfast, so be ready.”

“All right,” I say. “So, um, what do I do now?”

“Now is our break time.Talk to people. These are your only people. Anyone who is not in the Rebellion is the is the enemy.”

“Oh, um...Uhuh. Thanks.”

“Do not thank me.” She says and walks away. I can’t decide if that sounds ominous or humble. I walk back to the fire. I don’t want to appear cold and aloof, and besides, I’m not sure where to go if I’d want to avoid people, but at the same time, I’m terrified of conversation. I don’t want to talk about my past, but I don’t want to lie and deny it. I guess what I really want is to come to terms with it, but I don’t even know what my future will be like yet.

I think about Hopetown. I called it home for so long, but I don’t regret leaving it behind. Or I don’t think I do, anyway, but I am afraid of heading into the unknown. I hope my parents are alright. I hope I’ll be alright.

I have a chance to start over. I have a chance to build myself up anew, but I know that no matter how hard I try, I’ll always return back to being myself. But the problem is, I’m still not really sure who I am.

“Hey, Molly.” I turn around. Nathan is smiling at me.

“Oh. Hey.”

“So, how are you doing so far?”

“Good.”

Nathan waits for me to elaborate, but I’m afraid that the more words I say, the more there’s a chance of them being wrong.

“I’m Nathan, by the way, in case you don’t remember.”

“I remember.”

“Oh, um...Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“So, um, how do you like this place?”

I wonder if I’m being too cold and shoot Nahan a smile to balance out my kurt, emotionless sentences.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“Hopetown was beautiful too. Or the area around it was, anyway.”

“Hopetown,” I say heavily, “is in the past.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything that-”

“No, no.”

Judging by Nathan’s flustered expression, I must have sounded more severe than I thought. I hurry to retract my words. I can choose from any identity in the world. It’s not going to be
asshole
.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” I smile again. “I just meant...um...I’m happy to move on. With, uh, all of you. Here.”

“We’re very happy to have you.”

“Thank you. Um..So, what’s the Rebellion like?”

“What’s it like?” He chuckles a little. “That’s a hard question. What’s it like in comparison to what?”

“Um…” I had meant it to be a simple question. “To, uh, normal life?”

“See, I’m not really sure what you mean by that. I spent my entire life in the Rebellion, so this is my status quo.”

“Oh. Um. That’s cool.”

“Cool in comparison to what?”

I find myself getting mildly irritated.

“In comparison to Hopetown.”

“Would you rather be fighting your entire life?”

“I was fighting my entire life,” I narrow my eyes. My life may not have been as interesting as Nathan’s, but that doesn’t make it any less relevant. “Maybe my enemies weren’t as concrete as yours, but they were as real.”

“No, I’m sorry. You’re right. We’re all damaged, in some way or another. It shouldn’t be a competition. We need to help each other get better.”

“You think we can get better?”

“Well, why not?”

“We can’t get better while the world is still so sick.”

Nathan shrugs.

“Then we’re just going to have to help the world first.”

CHAPTER 5

I wake up to the sound of birds chirping. Through the net of the unzipped window, I can see the first rays of the sun rising above the forests. The only noises are the birds and the wind quietly rustling in the branches. I stretch. The night was colder than I expected, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay a thousand times for escape from Hopetown.

Perhaps my spite for my old home is overpowering, but it seems to me that the hard forest ground is more comfortable than my bed back in Hopetown. And although my sleep this night was as restless and plagued by nightmares as it has always been, I sleep easier here. I hope that that will last.

Rebekah told me to meet her after breakfast, but she didn’t specify when that would be, but I would rather not be remembered as the girl who was late to her first day of training. I pull on my socks and boots and unzip the door. Nobody is out yet. I guess I’m not late.

I breathe in the air. It is pure and crisp and smells like the forest. The Hopetown wind was a mix of sea water and vomit and wasted lives.

              I let it all soak in. The cold mountaintop air, the chirping birds, the rays of sunlight warming my fingertips, the cluster of tents around me. I let the sun revitalize me and hope that I’ll survive the following days. At least now, if I die, I’ll have seen the world outside the Gate, if only once.

              I hear a tent unzip behind me. Big Sal walks out, yawning.

              “Good morning,” I say.

              “Good morning, dear. How’d you sleep?”

              “Um. Pretty good.”

              “Good. Was it too cold? Do you need extra blankets?”

“Um. I don’t think so.”

“Well, if you change your mind, just ask. But now, it’s time time for breakfast.”

“Oh. Can I help?” I venture.

Big Sal smiles broadly.

“Of course you can! You can make a fire, right?” I nod. “Can you do that, please? It would be a big help.”

              “Sure.”

              “You can use the firewood in that pile over there. Thanks a lot.”

              “No problem.”

I begin stacking up the sticks and logs in the triangular formation that my father taught me. A small box of matches lies nearby. I light a piece of bark and watch the entire stack of wood go up in flame. Big Sal brings the pot. It has already been scrubbed clean from last night’s stew.

              “We’re having oatmeal today,” she says, pulling out a large bag of oats from  the food storage tent. She dumps half of the bag’s contents in, along with a small mound of snow. She stirs it with her large wooden spoon until the snow starts boiling. As she stirs, a chicken comes out from behind the coop, clucking self righteously. Big Sal shoos it away with her spoon.

“Don’t get so close to the fire, you egghead!” She reproaches it. “We don’t want fried chicken for breakfast!”

After the oatmeal has simmered for some time, she pulls vials of sugar, cinnamon, and other spices from her coat pockets and begins shaking them over the pot like a witch over her magic potion. Soon, a sweet, mouthwatering aroma rises from the pot, bringing more people out of their tents. Nathan comes out first.

              “Good morning, Big Sal. Molly. Breakfast smells delicious.”

              “Doesn’t it?” Big Sal says. “That’s the vanilla. You can make yourself useful and stir it.”

              “Only if I get to lick the spoon,” he responds, taking the ladle from Big Sal.

              “Keep dreaming, kid.”

Within the next ten minutes, the entire Rebellion is out with plates at the ready, crowding around the pot. Big Sal takes the ladle back from Nathan and smells her creation. She adds a final pinch of cinnamon and a look of approval settles on her face.

              “It’s ready,” she declares. “Form a line, people!”

Everyone quickly scrambles into a shaky line formation, eagerly accepting the hot oatmeal from Big Sal. I end up on a log in between Smaller Sally and Nathan. I try the oatmeal; it is even better than it smells.

              I can’t help but smile at the thought of good food every day. There are some basic pleasures of life that I will never stop enjoying. Nobody talks during breakfast; we are all too busy stuffing our faces with Big Sal’s concoction. After we finish eating and I wash my plate out with snow, I go to Rebekah.

              “You are ready? Good. We must get you a weapon first, so that you can kill everything that wants to kill you. Emily is the weapons mistress. Ey, Emily!” Emily turns around. “Molly needs a weapon.”

              “Took you long enough!” She responds from across the field. “Come here and we’ll pick one out.”

We go to the weapons tent. The inside is filled with knives, swords, bows and arrows, crossbows and even a few guns - an extreme rarity these days.

              “Do you have a weapon preference?” Emily asks me.

              “Um…” In all honesty, the only weapon I’ve ever held in my life is a kitchen knife. “No.”