In the After (30 page)

“I just get confused sometimes. I have trouble remembering everything. There are huge
gaps in my memories. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here.”

“Nearly two months.”

I stare at the floor warily. How long will they keep me here?
More drugs?
I ask, but he doesn’t understand, so I try again
. Send Kay with good things?

Hard to get lots.
He squeezes my hand
. Help soon. Be strong.

I nod with a frown. I’m weak and tired. I don’t know if I can last much longer. “I
remembered,” I tell him sadly. “About Vivian. And everything else.”

“I’m sorry, Amy.” He continues to hold my hand as I cry softly. “Just trust Dr. Reynolds.
He only wants to help you.” He leans in and hugs me. I breathe in deeply, remembering
his warm, soapy smell—comforting. “Take your medicine and let Dr. Thorpe know if your
depression worsens. They can prescribe you something for it.”

I know he’s only saying it for the cameras and whoever else may be watching. With
his hand he tells me
, We love you. I lo
—He pauses for a split second
. Just hang on.

Okay.
I wipe my face, but the tears keep coming. While Rice holds me, I mourn for Vivian
once again
.

• • •

On the outside, Memorial Hall looked like any other building in New Hope, but inside
it was just one big, bland, white room. Chairs were set up facing the platform and
podium and the overflow of mourners stood in the back and along the sides. I wanted
to hide in the back but my mother made Baby and me sit up front with her and Adam.

What are all those TVs for?
Baby asked. I studied the walls; flat screens lined the length of the hall. Each
had a desk and keyboard underneath.

I’m not sure
. My mother stood to give her speech. I tried to listen but it was impossible when
all I could think about was Vivian and how agonizing it must have been for her at
the end. While my mother talked about the strength of New Hope, I felt the opposite—drained
and weak. As she spoke, the names of the victims appeared one by one on a screen behind
her.

I finally gave up trying to stop the tears. I wiped my face with my sleeve and thought
how inappropriate it was that I was wearing red to a memorial service. Baby’s yellow
jumper was just as ridiculous; it was like we were all in a cult.

After my mother’s speech, Dr. Reynolds stepped forward. “Thank you, Director Harris.
Will everyone please feel free to access individual names at any of the consoles located
around the hall. Don’t hesitate to add an epitaph for friends and loved ones. In order
to heal, we must first remember.” Dr. Reynolds nodded crisply at my mother and they
left the platform. My mother came over to retrieve Adam before she was swept aside
to speak to someone I didn’t know.

I spotted Kay and headed over to her while my mother was distracted, Baby trailing
behind me.

“Hi, Kay,” I said, wondering who she lost during the Incident. None of the Guardians,
but a friend maybe. Did Kay have friends?

“We probably shouldn’t be seen talking together,” she muttered to me between clenched
teeth.

“Why not? It’s out that I want to be a Guardian. . . . My mother hasn’t even said
anything about it.” I watched her, across the room, looking stressed but composed.
“Do you think . . . maybe we should just tell my mother that you’re training me? She
seems okay with me trying out. She might feel better if she knows I’m prepared.”

“Absolutely not.” Kay lowered her voice. “I’m sure that as your mother she’d want
you to be safe, but as the director she would have to make an example of you for not
following the rules.”

“You break the rules all the time,” I told her, incredulous.

“I never break the rules,” she stated firmly.

“Right . . . never.”

My mother appeared at my side and took me by the shoulder, away from Kay. “Honey,
why don’t you go write something for Vivian? I’ll watch Baby.” She gave me a tender
look. “It will make you feel better.”

I doubted it, but I nodded and went over to wait in line. After a while, the crowd
thinned and I found an unused console. I typed in
Alvarez
and Vivian’s name immediately popped up. I highlighted it and watched a video of
her, showing her Advanced Theory presentation for the synth-suits. She looked calm
and poised, but I knew she was nervous by the way she fiddled with her necklace.

After the short video, I highlighted the pencil in the corner of the screen and saw
that Tracey had already left an epitaph.
GOOD-BYE, VIV. YOU WERE ONE OF A KIND AND YOU WILL BE DEARLY MISSED
. It reminded me of the messages written inside the high school yearbook I found ages
ago, while scavenging in the After.

I clicked
NEW MESSAGE
and thought about what to write, but ended up just staring at the blank screen for
a very long time. Finally I typed:
FOR IN THAT SLEEP OF DEATH, WHAT DREAMS MAY COME, WHEN WE HAVE SHUFFLED OFF THIS MORTAL
COIL. SWEET DREAMS, VIVIAN. LOVE, AMY
.

“Hamlet is a fitting tribute,” a voice behind me remarked. I quickly saved my message
and turned to find Rice looking over my shoulder.

“It doesn’t sound cheesy?” I asked, embarrassed.

“No, it’s not cheesy. Who wouldn’t want to be remembered with beautiful words from
Shakespeare?”

He studied me, then went to the console and typed,
O’BRIAN, KATHERINE
. A young woman appeared, just a photo, no video. She had strawberry-blond hair and
dark freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. She had several messages under
her name, one of which Rice highlighted.

TO DIE, TO SLEEP NO MORE; AND BY A SLEEP TO SAY WE END THE HEARTACHE. KATIE, I WILL
LOVE YOU ALWAYS—R
.

“You and I are very similar,” he told me with a sad smile, reaching for my hand. His
touch warmed me, but I didn’t find much comfort in it. My thoughts were still on Vivian.
I closed my eyes tight.

“Amy, are you all right?”

I started to cry. “I feel like I’ve lost everything all over again,” I told him. “Only
this time it was worse. I thought we were all safe here, but any one of us could have
died.” I paused. “Don’t you ever feel guilty that you’re alive?” I asked him.

“Every day,” he admitted. “Is that why you want to be a Guardian?”

I shook my head but I didn’t explain that my intentions were not so noble. I wanted
to be a Guardian for selfish reasons, for the freedom that being a Guardian would
provide.

“I’m always crying on you. You must be tired of it,” I said.

“I don’t mind,” he told me. “It’s nice to be useful, even if that use is as a tissue.”

“And what does my mother use you for?” I blurted, surprised by my harsh tone.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re obviously used for something. So, what do you assist the director with?”
I raised my voice. I couldn’t stop myself. “You know, Rice, you never give me a straight
answer. What do you do to the Floraes? Where did they come from?” I was almost shouting.
“You must know!” I dared not say what I was really thinking, that somehow the creatures
they used to study managed to escape. That this was all their fault.

I expected him to push me away, but instead he pulled me into a tight embrace. His
fingers dug into my skin. People were starting to look at us and I saw Dr. Reynolds
turn away from his conversation to stare. I knew I was out of control but I couldn’t
stop.

“Amy, calm down.” He stroked my arm. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

“No, it isn’t okay.” I pulled away from him. “Nothing is okay, Rice.”

Feeling claustrophobic, I pushed past Rice and rushed outside into the warm air. I
started to run, kicking off my shoes when the buildings thinned and the trees began.
I’d find them on the way back. I just wanted to be free.

• • •

After Rice leaves, I sit in the common room, watching the other patients. When Frank
comes in, I find an excuse to sit next to him. He mumbles to himself and I try to
listen to what he says, but it’s indistinguishable. Except for one word over and over
again:
Florae.

“Have you seen one?” I ask him without looking at him. “A Florae? Up close?”

“You don’t have to see them to know them,” he replies
.

I try again. “What do you know about them?”

His hand clenches into a fist and he begins to hit himself on the thigh. I reach over
and touch his leg, attempting to comfort him
.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!” he yells, jumping up. He continues to pound his fist into his hip
.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell him quietly
.

“This whole damn place upsets me,” he shouts. An orderly takes hold of him and wrestles
him to the ground so a nurse can give him a shot
.

Dr. Thorpe appears, her hand to her ear. “Mr. Jones needs his treatment now. Ready
the machine.”

I know I should stay quiet, but against my instincts I stand and stumble into Dr.
Thorpe’s way. “Amy, please. Not now,” she says
.

“Sorry. Where’s Frank going?” I ask
.

“It’s okay. He’s going to have treatment.”

“Not electroshock?” I ask, horrified
.

“No. EMDR . . . I don’t have time for this now.” She pulls away from me
.

“EMDR?” I mutter
.

“Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing,” someone says at my shoulder. I turn
to find the nurse at my side. “Was that too much? Do you need to go back to your room?”
he asks
.

“No. I’m fine. What is EMDR exactly . . .? Maybe it could help me,” I add hastily.
I know I am walking a fine line
.

“Frank is obsessed with the Floraes. During his treatments we show him a picture of
a Florae and negatively enforce the association . . . ,” he trails off. “This may
be a little complicated for you, but don’t worry. Frank’s treatment is working. He’s
getting better.”

I nod and sit back down. Rice assured me help was on the way and urged me to play
nice, but it’s hard not to try to help Frank. I could only imagine their version of
negative reinforcement. Whatever Frank is going through, I know it is making him worse,
not better
.

• • •

School resumed a few days after the Incident. That’s what everyone around here was
calling it. The final death count was 418 dead, no wounded. The Floraes didn’t leave
wounded. They killed and devoured and moved on to kill again. And after the memorial
service, more information was released about the cause.

The Incident occurred because two contiguous sonic emitters failed and were out for
four days, giving the Floraes enough time to wander into New Hope. It must have seemed
like heaven to them, all the loud people, all the light.

But I wasn’t buying it. Rice monitored those emitters constantly, and I knew he’d
be full of regret if he were to blame. He was extremely upset, but not guilt-ridden.
And Baby said that the emitters were out for about twenty minutes before she decided
to tell me, not four days. How could so many Floraes make it through in twenty minutes?
And why would they lie about what happened?

I sat in class, still stupidly hoping that Vivian would walk through the door, even
though I knew it was impossible.

“Amy,” someone called across the room. I looked up to find Tracey staring at me, dark
circles under her eyes. I wandered over to her desk. “I know what you did,” she told
me. “Upstairs. You saved those children.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I explained. “I sat in a room and waited to die. Luckily the
Guardians took care of the Floraes first.”

“Vivian tried to help too. She heard the little kids screaming. She ran out of our
dorm room. She wanted to save them.”

“What?” This hit me like a blow to the stomach. Vivian hadn’t stood a chance.

“I hid,” Tracey told me, ashamed.

I shook my head. “You did the right thing.”

“The Floraes never made it into the Class Five dorms. The Guardians got to them first,
but they were in the hall. I heard them. . . . I was so scared.” She began to cry.

“Vivian was brave, but she did a very stupid thing,” I told her. “You hid. You survived.
There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You helped,” she said, sniffling. “You faced the Floraes and lived.”

“Tracey, I had a gun,” I explained. “I know how the Floraes are, how they act.”

“I’m so miserable, Amy. I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate on my projects.” Tracey
wiped the tears from her face.

“It’s okay. You need time.” I hugged her and hoped it helped a little.

“My psyche-eval is up. I don’t want to be sent to the Ward.”

“You won’t. It would be strange if you weren’t sad and distracted right now.” I thought
about Dr. Reynolds and my body tensed. “If you’re worried, though, try to focus on
the good of New Hope, like all the great things Vivian accomplished before she . . .”
I couldn’t bring myself to say it. “Vivian was pretty kick-ass,” I told her.

Tracey smiled weakly. “Yeah, she was. I just miss her so much.”

“I miss her too.” My voice caught in my throat and I swallowed hard. “We’ll be okay,”
I said. “We’ve already survived the end of the world. . . . We can get through this
too. There’s nothing to worry about. We have a strong community here.” Tracey looked
at me like she believed what I was saying. For her sake, I hoped she did.

The next day, a girl with black hair and pale skin is wheeled into the common room.
I stare at her until her face blurs. I know her, but I don’t know how. I try to concentrate,
but it doesn’t come to me. Frustrated, tears well up in my eyes
.

“Amy, why are you crying?” Dr. Thorpe bends down in front of me. “Are you in pain?”
She holds my wrist in her fingers, checking my heart rate
.

“No . . . I . . .” I look to where the girl sits in her wheelchair. “Who is she?”
I ask, motioning toward the newcomer
.