In the After (15 page)

At that my mother’s face softened. Her smile, still so beautiful. “Of course,” she
told me. “He’ll be back from school at five.”

I was quiet for a while, thinking about all I’d learned. “Mom, do you miss him?” I
blurted out before I could stop myself. Her head snapped up. She knew who I meant.

“I miss your father every day,” she said quietly.

My eyes stung. I desperately wanted my father to be remembered.

“But no matter how much it hurt me to lose your father, it was only a tiny fraction
of the pain I felt when I thought you were gone.”

The tears rolled down my cheeks then. I leaned into my mother, hugged her tightly.
She kissed the top of my head and wiped my face with her hand before wrapping her
arms around me again.

“If you want to get some sleep,” she said, “I’ll stay here while you and Baby rest.”

“I think sleep would be good. We’ve had to take in a lot today,” I said, which was
the understatement of the century. I put my face in my hands and massaged my temples.
In one day everything I knew about the After had changed. I didn’t think I could handle
much more.

• • •

When Dr. Thorpe returns again a few minutes later, she is trailed by a couple of large
men wearing all white. I stay still, my eyes open but unfocused
.

The orderlies approach my bedside, where I continue to lie motionless. As soon as
they are close enough, I jump up, hitting the nearest one in the nose with the palm
of my hand. Blood squirts all over my clothes and splatters the bed
.

Stunned, the second orderly doesn’t have time to react. I crouch low and sweep his
legs out from under him. My muscles seem to know what to do before I can think it.
And suddenly I flash back to a gym—I’m training with Kay, a Guardian. She flickers
into my mind, her expression sour, but her eyes full of kindness. In a flash as quick
as lightning, her face is gone, leaving a blank void where the memory had been
.

All this takes place in seconds, and the orderly I’ve tripped is still falling sideways.
His head makes a loud knocking sound as it bounces against the floor. I spring forward
and sprint to the door. I’m going to escape. I’ll find Baby and someone to help us,
maybe the woman I recalled through my haze. What was her name again? Once I’m out
of here, I’ll be able to think. My fingers are on the door handle when I feel a sharp
pain in my neck. I look up to find Dr. Thorpe standing over me, flushed, a needle
in her hand
.

I try to open the door and run anyway, but my arms and legs have turned to jelly.
I fall back, into Dr. Thorpe’s arms. She lowers me to the floor and before I black
out, I hear her say, “It’s okay, Amy. You will get better. I will make sure of it.”

• • •

I woke at midnight to find Baby already up and watching me. I rubbed my face; my hand
came away wet.

You were crying in your sleep
, Baby told me.

Why didn’t you wake me?

I thought maybe you were happy. You cried when we found Mom today
.

I shivered slightly and shook my nightmare from my head.
Why aren’t you asleep?
I asked her.

I can’t sleep. It’s too loud here
.

I listened to the noises of the building, the buzz of the lights, the settling of
wood and metal. That was all normal. We had those gentle noises at home. I listened
harder and noticed that there was more. Voices from far away, sounds like a television
program. There were footsteps in the hall, laughing outside. The ticking of the clock
on the wall. I tried to tell Baby what all the noises were, but she shook her head.

There’s a humming underneath it all
. She explained.
It makes my head hurt
.

I wondered what it was she was hearing that I couldn’t.
We have to get used to it here. It’s our new home
, I told her. I was wide awake.
Are you thirsty?
I asked, rubbing my neck. She shook her head no, but I went to fetch myself a glass
of water. My throat was raw from talking so much.

I walked through the apartment. Out of habit I was completely silent. In the living
room, I noticed kids’ clothes on the couch, a toy truck on the floor. My mother must
have taken Adam to bed with her, not wanting to disturb us.

I quietly opened the cabinet doors until I found a glass and filled it with water
from the pitcher in the fridge. The cool water soothed my throat and I drank it greedily.
I drained the glass and filled it again to the brim. Then I brought it back to Baby
in the bedroom in case she wanted some later. After I put the glass on the nightstand,
I snuggled with her under the covers.

When I woke again, it was eight o’clock, and light was streaming in the window. Uneasy,
I got up and surveyed the view. My mother’s apartment looked down on a smallish park
area that people were walking through on their way to other buildings. The area had
the same look as the structures, minimally maintained.

I closed the blinds and shivered with the strangeness of it all. There were dozens
of people down there. A pregnant woman read while several children ran around her,
playing. I wondered,
How many people live in New Hope?

I made my way to my mother’s room, hoping to spend time with her before she left for
work. I looked for my old clothes but they were gone. In their place were two jumpsuits.
One was Baby’s size and was a bright yellow, and the other, larger one was red and
must have been meant for me. Underneath them were two pairs of shoes, the same colors
as the jumpsuits. Both pairs were way too small for me and too big for Baby. I placed
them on the floor. We didn’t need shoes anyway.

I woke Baby and showed her the new clothes. She loved the yellow color, but all I
could think was how impractical it was. You couldn’t blend in; you couldn’t hide.
It was like wearing a big flashing sign that said, “Come eat me.”

I buttoned up my own jumpsuit and looked in the mirror. It was big and the extra material
billowed out, making me look several sizes larger than I was. I rolled up the sleeves
and pant legs and resigned myself to looking stupid for a while.

My mother wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room, but I found a note on her bedroom
door.

I’ll be back at eleven to show you around. You can watch TV until then. Snacks in
the fridge. Love you, Mom
.

My mother the workaholic, just like Before. Unnerved, I put the note on the counter
and turned on the TV. Ours at home could still play videos, and sometimes Baby watched
with the sound off. I flipped through the channels, finding only five stations. One
had old sitcoms, another one showed cartoons, and there was even one with movies,
all from Before.

The last channel was a news station, minus the slick studio feel. The “anchor,” an
older man, sat at a plain metal desk with nothing but a white wall behind him. I turned
up the volume, and Baby covered her ears. The man spoke directly into the camera:
“Grave news today, another Guardian has lost his life while defending New Hope. We
will honor his memory Friday night at Memorial Hall.”

I was startled by a death, after all my mother’s assurances that we were safe here.
How often did it happen? I listened to the news for a while, understanding very little
of the context.

“And finally we have a breakthrough in our post-ap research, thanks to Director Harris.”
I stared at the screen as the camera panned left. My mother looked back at me.

“This is indeed a bright day, for I believe that we are close to realizing the dream
that so many of us share.” This is the mother I knew, professional and commanding.
“We would like to put out a call for volunteers, once again. Any interested citizens
should report immediately to the clinic for suitability testing.” Suitability? For
what?

After fifteen minutes the news repeated itself, so I turned the volume way down and
flipped to cartoons for Baby. I searched the fridge, which was pretty bare except
for some questionable-looking plastic bowls, their contents even more questionable.
Great snacks, Mom
. I did find a block of cheese wrapped in a cloth. On the counter was a loaf of coarse,
homemade bread. Cheese sandwiches it was.

I toasted the bread and cheese in the oven and it smelled delicious. I hadn’t had
real cheese in a very long time. My mouth started to water. The oven dinged and I
transferred the sandwiches to a plate. The smell of melted cheese filled the room
and suddenly I was brought back to another time. I was watching TV in our old house,
eating pizza bagels. I saw an alien for the first time.

I was no longer hungry.

I handed the plate to Baby, who automatically took a large bite, her eyes glued to
cartoons. The food was hot; she blew on it and took a sip of water to cool down her
mouth. As she chewed she turned and stared at me.

What is this?
she asked.

She’d never had unprocessed cheese. The only bread we had was the kind I made at home
which always came out hard and dry. I never got the knack for baking.

It’s food from Before
.

This is the most fan food ever
. She turned back to the TV and wolfed down the rest.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it. I was way too on edge to eat. My mother would
be back soon to show us around New Hope. I thought about her on the news. She was
the director, but who, or what, did she direct? Before, she worked in a research lab
for the government.

Maybe she could tell me more about the creatures, about where they came from and why
they were here. It couldn’t just be coincidence or a mistake. Why were they so vicious?
And why us? Why now?

I glanced at the clock. My mother couldn’t answer my questions if she wasn’t around
for me to ask them. I tried to watch cartoons with Baby, but I was unsettled. I sighed
and willed time to go faster, which only made it worse.

“Hello again, Amy.” An older, doughy man sits in a plastic chair across from me, smiling.
I rest on my bed, my feet thrust under the covers. I’m uncertain about most things,
my thoughts are murky, but I know I like my room. Even groggy, I feel comfy here
.

“Hello . . . Dr. . . .”

“Dr. Reynolds,” he tells me helpfully
.

“Yes, of course.” I know this man, I’m sure of it, but I can’t quite place him. I’m
finding it hard to concentrate
.

He looks in his notebook and scratches his bald head. “How are you feeling today?”
he asks pleasantly. He seems nice enough. Maybe he’s a friend? But that doesn’t seem
quite right. I feel bad for not remembering him
.

“Good,” I tell him. “I like it here.”

“That’s great.” He scribbles something in his notebook and looks up brightly, which
makes me smile. “You’re not planning any more escape attempts, are you?” he asks in
a joking tone
.

“No . . . . ,” I assure him, not certain what he’s talking about. I want his approval,
so I add, “New Hope is fan!”

Dr. Reynolds laughs lightly. “Well, I think so too, Amy. New Hope is everything I’ve
always wanted.”

“It’s safe,” I offer. I hear my mother’s voice saying it again and again. “You’re
safe now, Amy.” I scowl because I know, somehow, that she was wrong. I also remember
another voice, a male this time. “I’ll keep her safe,” he promised. “I’ll protect
her.”

Dr. Reynolds studies me and I lose my train of thought, my face softening into a smile.
“New Hope is safe,” I tell him again
.

“Oh, it’s so much more than that, Amy.” He closes his notebook and sits back. “New
Hope holds all my ambitions for the human race. It’s our destiny.”

I nod sleepily. A glint of a memory forming in my mind. A boy who made me promises.
I let the spark flare. I need to remember him
.

• • •

Someone’s at the door
, Baby told me moments before I heard a knock.

I hurried to the door and looked through the peephole. A teenage boy was standing
on the other side.

“Yes?” I asked through the door.

“I . . . your mother sent me,” he said loudly. “I’m supposed to show you around. The
director said . . .”

I jerked open the door.

“She said . . .” He lowered his voice. “She’d meet you for lunch.” He smiled crookedly,
which softened his striking features and wild blond hair, making him look kind. When
I noticed a pair of glasses shoved in the pocket of his white coat, I realized he
was the “psychiatrist” from our arrival.

“Oh.” I put my hand to my mouth, suddenly remembering. I’d pulled a gun on him, frightened
him half to death. “Look, about yesterday, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. The director explained your situation.” He said
director
like it was the president or something.

“Did she?” I wondered what my mother told him, what she was telling everyone about
her long-lost daughter.

“We have a lot to cover, though, so we really should get going.”

“Right. Okay,” I motioned to Baby, who turned off the television and hurried to my
side. She bounced slightly on her toes, eager to explore.

“Um . . .” He stood in the doorway awkwardly.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Amy and this is Baby.” I introduced us, though we already unofficially
met yesterday and I was sure he knew our names.

“I’m Rice.” He held out his hand and I shook it.

“Rice?” I asked. I signed to Baby
He says his name is Rice
.

Rice? Why would he be named after food?
she asked, scrunching her nose.

I started laughing. The tension in me was breaking—or finally overflowing—I wasn’t
sure which.

“What did she say?” Rice asked.

“She wants to know why you’re named after a food,” I explained, still giggling.

Rice smiled politely. “My name is Richard. Richard Kiernan Junior. My dad used to
call me Rice and I absolutely hated it, but . . . well, he died, so I decided . . .
you know.”