In the After (9 page)

Suddenly Amber shrieks.

I turn to the closet, my heart pounding. Is one of Them in there with her? I’ve never
come across one in an empty house, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. I back
toward the bedroom door, ready to sprint and hide. If it found Amber, it will be distracted
for a while and I can grab Baby and get out before it’s done feeding.

Something moves in the closet and I brace myself for a disgusting green head and glowing
yellow eyes. Instead, Amber appears in the doorway, her face jubilant. She holds up
a bag.

“Prada,” she says with a grin, not bothering to whisper.

We have to leave, now
. I grab her arm and drag her toward the door. If They heard her, we don’t have much
time. Amber cries out slightly as I pull her down the stairs, my fingers digging into
her skin. I don’t care that I am hurting her. Baby is downstairs, alone. We need to
find her and get the hell out.

I step over the two squeaky stairs, but Amber steps heavily on both. Either she doesn’t
remember or she doesn’t care. I can feel my face grow hot with anger. I shouldn’t
have brought her; she isn’t ready. If we all die, it will be my fault.

I pause at the bottom of the stairs, quickly scanning the room. I don’t see any of
Them. I lead Amber cautiously through the dining room. I stop again. In the next room
there is a sound. The noise is faint but distinctive: shuffle, shuffle, sniff. Amber’s
outburst brought one inside. It is in the kitchen, where I told Baby to stay.

Wait
, I sign to Amber.
Danger
.

Her eyes close tight with fear. She pushes herself flat against the wall, trying to
become invisible. I let go of her arm and hope she has enough sense not to make a
sound.

I remove a box of snappers from my bag. I take one, rolling the small, papered bundle
in my fingers. I used to love throwing them on the Fourth of July. They were just
the right amount of safe and loud that my parents could reach a compromise on. No
real fireworks for me. It was a good day when I found an unopened box of snappers
in the attic. I had my mother to thank for that once again, since she didn’t like
to throw things away.

I duck into the kitchen and throw the snapper as hard as I can against the far wall.
The creature is sniffing around the kitchen table, but runs toward the popping noise
at full speed. Terrified, I nevertheless fight the urge to laugh hysterically as it
smacks into the wall where the snapper hit. I take a deep breath, try to calm myself.
It will not help if I panic. If I die, Amber won’t last long and Baby will be on her
own.

The creature is now studying the wall, touching it with its fleshy green hands, wondering
what the noise had been. It doesn’t immediately turn and focus back in on the room.
It knows something was there, something loud, but does not understand where it went.
I hear Amber move in the other room and the floor creaks. The creature’s head snaps
in the direction of the doorway, exactly where I’m standing.

I’m exposed. It is a cloudless night. Moonlight filters in the window, bathing the
kitchen in a soft, silver glow. I can’t risk moving back into the shadows. I try to
stay absolutely still.

Most people probably lose their nerve when they are this close to Them. They run or
scream, not in control enough to realize it will get them killed.

But I am calm. I am collected. I am nothing more than a statue, a decoration. The
noise was just the house settling, a breeze through the window.

I hear a low
thump
in the backyard past the shattered glass door. The creature’s face twitches.

Go check it out
, I think at the monster.
Maybe it’s a tasty rabbit
.

Before I even finish my thought, I am blinded by a brilliant white light. I have to
squint against the sudden brightness, which is so intense it makes my skin tingle.

“What the . . .” Amber says from her hiding spot.

The creature focuses on me, no longer wondering if I am there or not. It might as
well be broad daylight. It can see me perfectly. It growls, muscles flexed to run.

It rushes at me and there’s no place to go. Too late I think of the gun at my side.
I’m panicked, and there is no way to reach it in time.
I’m sorry, Baby
. I fall to my knees. My hands instinctively fly in front of my face.

But nothing happens. A long second ticks by. I peek past my fingers.

The creature is barely a foot away, completely covered in some kind of net. It is
being dragged back slowly while it tries desperately to escape. It pushes against
its bonds and snaps its teeth at me. It is not happy it has missed its meal.

I scramble to the doorway and hide behind the wall, where Amber still stands, shocked.
I lie on the floor and poke my head out to watch. The creature is being reeled into
a ship, the same dark, soundless ship that I witnessed landing in the park and have
seen many times since then. It beams the light everywhere.

The creature does not stop fighting, but it cannot break free. I can see just inside
the doorway of the craft. There is a tall figure, clothed in black from head to toe.
The figure holds a rope attached to the net that encases the creature. It pulls the
still-struggling alien into the ship. The door shuts behind Them and the bright light
goes out.

The sudden darkness is a shock. By the time my eyes adjust, the ship has disappeared
without making a sound.

I get to my feet. We still have to go, and quickly. The light, no matter how brief,
will attract more of Them like a beacon in the darkness. I run into the kitchen but
Baby is not there.

Panicked, I search around the chairs and under the table. Where would she have hidden?
I freeze in the middle of the room and crouch, my head in my hands. What if she didn’t
have time to hide? My eyes scan the room frantically. There is no blood, no sign of
a struggle. She must have escaped somehow.

A dish towel on the floor catches my attention. It is pushed out away from the sink.
I rush to the cabinet and pull open the door. Baby looks up at me, relieved.

I grab her and haul her out of the cabinet, hugging her tight. My whole world would
collapse if I lost her. I can’t lose her. I pick her up, even though she is much too
big now to be carried.

Are you okay?
I sign onto her arm.

Yes. I was scared, though
. Baby smiles weakly, putting on a brave face. She can deal with a lot, but this was
a close call.
I hid as soon as Amber made that terrible noise
.

I put Baby down, squeezing her one last time.
We have to go
, I tell her.

She nods knowingly.

I find Amber and we all walk slowly, careful to be silent. Even so, Amber walks way
too loudly, her sock-covered feet padding on the sidewalk.

When we get to the gate, I unlock it as fast as I can, making sure Baby gets inside
first. I shove Amber after her, pulling the gate shut.

Inside the house I scold Amber. I sign at her furiously, call her names she doesn’t
understand. We don’t have words for “stupid” or “idiotic,” I’d never needed language
like that with Baby. Instead I say she’s useless.
Bad Amber
, I claw the words at her.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry
, she tells me over and over. She clutches the designer purse to her chest.

It’s not her fault
, Baby pleads.
She doesn’t understand
.

I look at Amber. How can she not comprehend the danger we face every day? How can
she jeopardize our safety for a stupid bag? I glare at her and she begins to sob.

She’s from Before
, Baby says.

I sigh. I place my hand on Amber’s shoulder.
It’s okay
. I force a smile.
Go to sleep. We’ll try again tomorrow
.

Amber sniffles and nods. She gives me a weak, half smile and creeps downstairs to
her bed. I feel a stab of regret.

Baby is right. Amber is stuck with her head in the Before. She doesn’t understand
that expensive clothes and shoes are not as important as staying alive. She spent
all those years in a bomb shelter, dreaming of a life that is no longer possible.
If she doesn’t let go of her fantasies, she’ll kill us all.

Are you angry?
Baby asks.

No. I was just scared that you were hurt
, I explain.

What happened?

I shake my head. Baby won’t understand. To her, things are only as good as far as
they are functional, so one bag is the same as another, as long as it isn’t ripped
or doesn’t have holes. She wouldn’t get that Amber wanted something because it was
a famous brand.

Amber found something that people used to think was very fan
.

Something we can use?
she asks, probably wondering if it is as good as a dishwasher or candy bar.

No, something that reminds her of Before. She was very excited and forgot to be quiet
.

Baby nods her head, pretending like she understood. She wants to believe the best
of Amber, and I don’t want to shatter that illusion. I can’t just tell her,
We almost died today because Amber is a shallow idiot
.

What about the light?
she asks.
I saw it through the crack in the cabinet
.

I tell her about the ship and how they captured the creature with a net. I describe
the figure inside, how it wore some kind of black suit.

Why would They capture Themselves?

I don’t know
. Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, it really doesn’t make sense to me
either.
Maybe the creatures were sent to get rid of us so the other ones could come and take
over
.

You don’t think that, do you?

I honestly don’t know what to think. If They are supposed to get rid of the human
race They did a pretty bang-up job in the first few weeks. Why would the cavalry wait
years to show up? Maybe it just took them that long to get here. Send in the troops,
wait for total destruction, then call in the clean-up crew.

If the other kind comes and takes away all of Them, that will be fan
. Baby smiles, imagining a world without monsters.

I nod. But even if They are eliminated, what will replace Them? I don’t want to worry
Baby, though, so I suggest we eat some of the new food she gathered. She didn’t drop
her bag during the commotion, and I am proud of her. At least
her
priorities are straight.

After we eat, I tell her the story of Rapunzel, who I decide will run away and go
to college instead of being rescued by a prince. Baby falls asleep with her head full
of fantasy and I hope she dreams of a better place.

I stay up long after Baby has gone to bed, reading to keep my mind occupied, not ready
to close my eyes. Every time I do, I see the ship and the figure in black, reeling
in the creature for capture. I don’t understand any of it and I don’t like the not
knowing. The last few years have been awful, but I now know how the After works and
how to survive. With the arrival of the ships, I am lost again, just like in those
weeks when They first came.

I wake at dawn, sobbing. I’d been dreaming about the night’s events, only this time
we were not so lucky. In my nightmare, Amber’s screams brought Them straight to Baby.
I saw it all in slow motion, Baby bitten and clawed as she called out for help, but
I couldn’t help her. I was paralyzed with fear.

I get out of bed and check on Baby, awake in her room.
I was asleep
, she explains.
Something woke me
. A noise outside. She is always waking at the slightest sound, when a tree branch
falls or a bird sings.

Want a story?
I ask, but she shakes her head no. I sit with her until she falls back asleep, then
go to make myself some tea. I’ve had time to calm down, and I want to blame Amber
for all this, but I know I can’t. I shouldn’t be so angry at her; it wasn’t really
her fault. It was mine. I should not have let her come with us. My dream is still
fresh in my mind. Baby could have died. I don’t think I can stay in the After without
her.

I decide to see if Amber has fallen asleep yet. I want to apologize for being so harsh
to her. I grab a package of long-expired, but still-good Oreos to use as a peace offering
and tiptoe down the basement stairs.

Amber has made the room hers, decorating it with construction paper chains and Baby’s
crayoned pictures. The room is still and I am amazed at how quietly Amber is sleeping,
when she can’t even walk around in socks without stomping like a baby elephant. She
also snores more often than not.

She isn’t snoring now, though. I walk across the basement floor with a strange feeling
in my stomach. Something isn’t right. I pull back the blankets.

Amber is gone.

I broke the news to Baby as soon as she woke up, after I checked to make sure the
gate was locked and Amber hadn’t taken anything important. Baby is crushed. We don’t
say it, but we both think Amber is dead. She couldn’t make it a block on her own,
much less live out in the city with no comfy, secure house. With no one to feed her
and take care of her, she would be alien lunch in no time.