In the After (10 page)

You’re glad she’s gone
, Baby accuses, her face dark with anger.

I shake my head.
I’m sorry I yelled at Amber, but she put us in danger. I needed her to understand
. I try to put my hand on her shoulder, but she pulls away, her arms crossed. She’s
never been difficult like this before and I’m worried.

Baby’s lip quivers. She turns away, not wanting me to see her cry. I reach out to
hug her, but change my mind. Maybe she just needs some time alone. She doesn’t remember
ever losing anyone.

I go downstairs to the basement. Amber taped up a bunch of Baby’s drawings and pictures
cut out from old magazines. I start to take these down, grimacing at long-dead models
and TV heartthrobs.

I fold up the blankets and place them to the side. The papers I gather and put in
a plastic bag. I’ll throw them away on our next outing. Baby doesn’t need to be reminded
of Amber every time she comes downstairs.

I sit on the couch and put my head in my hands. I’m not that horrible. It was all
just a coincidence. I should have exercised more caution, but I can’t blame myself,
even if Baby resents me. Whether or not I meant for all this to happen, I still have
to make it up to Baby somehow. There are other survivors. I can watch a few, see who
is trustworthy. I can invite people to live here. We don’t have to be alone.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to find Baby glowering at me, angry. She is so
damned quiet. I didn’t hear her come down the stairs.

What are you doing?
Her little fingers move furiously. Sometimes I forget how young she is.

I’m just trying to clean up
, I explain.

Baby grabs the bag of drawings and cutouts.
Amber and I made these
. She crumples them against her chest.

I know. I thought it would be better
. . . I stop signing. I’ve never seen Baby so mad. Once again I’ve made the wrong
choice. I should have left Amber’s room the way it was, for Baby to sort out when
she was ready.

I’m sorry
. I don’t know what else to say. I’m not perfect. I don’t have all the answers. I’m
just trying to keep us safe. I start to cry softly.
Please
. I hold out my hand.
Please don’t hate me
.

Baby’s face softens. She places the bag of papers on the floor and sits next to me
on the couch. I hug her close.

I don’t hate you
, she tells me.
I just feel
. . . She searches for the right word.
I feel empty
.

I rest my head on top of hers.
I am so sorry
.

Baby nods and scoots onto the floor. She opens the bag of papers and begins to sort
them into piles.
Can I put these in my room?
she signs, without looking up.
For when Amber comes back
.

I place my hand on her shoulder.
Yes
. I don’t tell her that Amber is almost certainly dead.

Baby no longer sleeps in my room. She is more withdrawn. She likes to sit alone and
look at her picture books. She isn’t even very excited when I bring her new, better-fitting
clothes. She glances at me, shrugs, and puts them in her closet.

Don’t you want to try them on?
I ask.

Maybe later
.

I go to my room to read. Baby doesn’t want me around and I don’t want to force her.
I wonder if my parents felt the same way; I never wanted to hang out with them either.
Not once I turned ten and decided they were lame. I wish I’d done more things with
them, not given them such a hard time. I try not to think about it too often because
it’s too much. How was I supposed to know I’d never see them again?

I start to read my
American History
book from sophomore year. I always liked history; it was like ancient gossip. I sometimes
go back over old homework, try to remember what I was learning. Everything except
math, that is. I could never get the hang of precalculus. The only good thing about
the After is that I never have to worry about math homework.

I doze off. I dream I’m at the zoo with my parents. I’m about Baby’s age, six or seven,
except I’m not myself. I
am
Baby. I have a balloon and a little plastic cup with a lion on it. I love the zoo.

Suddenly my parents are gone. Everyone is gone. I run around looking for people, but
I can’t find anyone. I begin to cry.

“Be quiet,” someone tells me, but I can’t see them so I keep on sobbing. “Shut the
hell up!” comes the same voice, except this time I recognize it. It is my voice. I
haven’t heard it in a very long time.

I see why I’m supposed to be quiet. The lion is no longer on my little plastic cup.
It is standing in front of me. It roars, showing off its sharp teeth. I am frozen
with fear. Suddenly the ground begins to shake. I try to regain my footing, but I
fall to my hands and knees. The quake continues. The earth splits apart. I open my
mouth to scream but nothing comes out.

I open my eyes. I’m in my bed and I’m me again. Only the vibration continues.

I turn over. Baby is shaking me. I push her hands away, but then I see the look on
her face. Her eyes are wide, her jaw clenched. Something has frightened her and it
takes a lot to scare Baby.

I sit up.
What is it? What’s happened?

I hear someone at the gate
. Baby jumps on me.
Maybe it’s Amber
.

I push her to the side, onto the bed.

I go down the stairs and peek out the window. There is a man in army fatigues studying
the gate. He picks up a stick and throws it at the fence. It sparks where it hits
and then falls to the ground. He looks at the window and I duck down, hoping he hasn’t
seen me. When I look again, he is gone. I have an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I run back up to my room.
It’s not Amber; it’s a man
, I tell her.
I need you to get a bag together. You’ll need some food, a change of clothes, and
your pocketknife
. I know she will listen to me. Even if she’s been surly lately, she knows that this
is serious.

Baby nods, still frightened.
Can I bring my books?
She already understands that we might have to go.

No
, I tell her. She looks at the floor, frowning, but doesn’t bother to beg. The sight
is enough to make me feel guilty.
One book
, I relent. She needs to have something familiar.

Where are we going? Are we leaving now?

No. I just want us to be ready. Just in case
. I try to smile reassuringly, but Baby isn’t buying it.
Go, now. Put your bag by the back door when you’re done
. Baby runs off to her room.

I start to pack my backpack. Some clothes, a water bottle. I take a can opener from
the kitchen too. I grab the gun and holster from my nightstand and put it on. We have
to be prepared for every possibility.

We keep the bags ready, but after four days the man doesn’t return. Baby talks about
it constantly and I’ve run out of ways to distract her.

Is he going to hurt us?
she asks, signing one-handedly. In her other hand she clutches a fork. She’s eating
peaches from a can. The juice dribbles down her chin and stains her shirt.

I won’t let that happen
. I hand her a napkin.
Stop making a mess
. “You don’t have a maid,” is what my mom always used to tell me, even though we did
have a housekeeper. When I pointed out the obvious to her, she would say, “Do
you
pay her wages?”

Amy, if that man comes back, are you going to hurt him?
Baby asks, eyeing the gun that I have not taken off since we spotted the outsider,
except to shower.

If I have to
, I tell her. She stops eating, her fork paused midway between the can and her mouth.
I don’t want to frighten her, but she needs to understand that we could be in danger.
All of Them are monsters, but not all monsters are Them.

Maybe he was just lost
, she ventures.

Maybe
.

Maybe he’s nice
.

I frown at her.
I doubt it
.

Amber was nice
.

Eat your peaches. You have to get going soon
.

Baby shovels the rest of the fruit in her mouth, chewing carefully. I told her that
tonight she can go scavenging on her own. We need food again and one of us has to
stay home, in case our visitor comes back. I debated leaving Baby with the gun, but
I don’t think she can shoot someone if push comes to shove. I’m not all that confident
that I can either, but I’m willing to try.

Baby keeps smiling and pushing her head up tall. She is excited; I can tell by the
way she won’t sit still. I hope she can channel that energy later, but I’m not overly
concerned. She is a smart girl, fast and quiet. She can take care of herself out there,
for a few hours anyway.

Baby clears her place and grabs her two bags. One almost empty to hold food and supplies,
one filled with garbage to drop down the block. She stands by the door and hops up
and down silently.

Do you have everything you need?
I ask, unwilling to let her go just yet.

Yes
. She rolls her eyes.

You have the key for the gate?
I’ve already checked twice to make sure it was in her pocket. I can’t stand the thought
of her stuck out there, even though I’ll be watching from the window.

Yes, yes. You know I do
.

Okay
, I sign.
Then what are you waiting for?

She grins and opens the front door, quickly stepping out into the night. A few feet
away she comes to a halt. She turns back to me, no longer smiling.

What?
Is one of Them at the gate?

Baby’s mouth opens. For a second I think that she is going to scream, but she doesn’t.
She’s just surprised.

There’s someone at the gate again
, she signs.

I look past her to the fence. The man has returned and he is fiddling with the gate.
Large black gloves cover his hands, protecting him from the electricity.

Get inside now
, I order.

Baby hurries past me and I slam the door as loud as I can. I want to bring Them to
the gate. I need that man to be gone.

I head over to the window and watch. The man not only has protective gloves, he has
other tools as well. In one hand, he holds large shears. He is going to cut the fence
so he can get inside. We’ll be completely exposed to Them.

I try to think. What can I do? I reach immediately for the gun and hold it in my hand.
I don’t want to kill him. Maybe if I just show him I have it he will go away.

Stay here. Don’t look out the window
, I tell Baby.

I jerk open the door and an idea strikes me. I reach over and flick on the porch light.
Even if the door slam doesn’t bring Them running, the light will. They love the light.

The man looks up briefly, but continues to work. I hear a low snarl, and smile. They
will be coming soon.

“Circle in,” a voice in the distance yells. I squint against the light. Other figures
gather around the first man. He is not alone.

I run back inside and up the stairs at full speed. I need to get to my bedroom window,
where I’ll have a better view. Baby looks at me questioningly as I run past, but stays
where I told her to.

From the window upstairs, I can see that there are several men, at least five. I spot
a few of Them down the street, running toward the light. They will be at the house
in a matter of seconds. One of the men sees Them and holds up a gun.

I breathe a sigh of relief. The guns will only bring more of Them. The men will be
finished in a few minutes. The damage to the fence looks minimal. We’re safe.

The first creature reaches the semicircle of men and falls without a sound. I blink.
Another creature goes down and another. I pound my head against the glass of the window.
I want to cry, but know I don’t have time for a nervous breakdown.

The men have guns, but they have something else too. From where I sit, I can see one
pull something long and white from his bag. He holds it up to a black metallic object
and shoots. Crossbows. They have crossbows. Where did they get crossbows? They must
have raided a hunting supply store. They are handling themselves like seasoned hunters,
either that, or they’ve had a lot of practice in the After.