Aftertime

emotions that crackled under the surface, a tightly controlled mania.

Evangeline smiled, and suddenly Cass realized that she was actually very beautiful. If she were capable of a genuine smile, she’d be stunning.

“Of course. You are an only child. An orphan now. Your father left the family long ago and your mother… I extend my condolences, of course. The fact that so many have been lost doesn’t lessen anyone’s individual pain. We recognize that.”

Fear shivered its way down Cass’s spine. How did Evangeline know so much about her? And what about Ruthie-the one detail she hadn’t mentioned? Elaine, of course; it had to be. She tried to remember what she and Elaine had talked about, during the long hours they’d spent together in those early days in the library. Of course they must have exchanged life stories. Elaine… Cass searched her memory, trying to dredge up what the woman had told her. She’d been a gym teacher at an elementary school…she’d been dating another teacher, but she’d broken off the engagement earlier in the year, and that’s when she opened her yoga studio. She had cats. Two cats, a white one and a striped one-there had been a photo. Yes…she remembered Elaine showing her the photo, her voice trembling when she described her cats, which had gone missing shortly after the attack on domesticated fowl, when suddenly everyone became a hunter. Oh, and she had a younger brother with problems, some sort of problems that had landed him in a group home in Oakland.

So it was possible. Even Cass, who’d lost several weeks of her life, had been able to dredge up those details. It was well within the bounds of possibility that Elaine had been able to tell Evangeline the things she knew. The question was-why? How had they gotten the information out of her? Here, in this room, with the three strangers staring at her and Smoke, Cass had no trouble believing they would do whatever it took to get what they wanted.

But Elaine hadn’t told them about Ruthie. Why?

“You can’t stay here,” Evangeline continued. “If people know you returned, after the attack-there’s a lot of ignorance, a lot of fear. You wouldn’t be…tolerated well. We wouldn’t be able to guarantee your safety. Down in Colima, we have scientists, we have a way to explain things in terms people can understand. And we have the others. Like you.”

“If there are others, how come I’ve never seen them before?” Cass demanded. “How come no one has?”

Evangeline shrugged. “Simple, unfortunate circumstances. Our people think that as many as one or two in every hundred citizens is immune, an outlier. It’s nothing new, there’s a similar phenomenon with other infectious diseases-HIV, malaria, even Parkinson’s. Only, to recover, you actually have to survive an attack or live through blueleaf fever. And as you know, it’s become a lot harder to do that.”

Cass knew. Once people realized where the fever led, they stopped caring for the infected. Those who didn’t take their own lives were turned out on the streets or even killed, if their loved ones could stomach the job.

“We’re getting close to a blood test,” Evangeline continued. “Soon we’ll be able to tell who’s an outlier and who isn’t. But we need people like you for that, people for the studies. And that’s why we’re going to give you safe passage to Colima.”

She studied Cass, one eyebrow raised. “You’ll never make it on your own. There’s very little cover in the central valley, and the towns…well, I don’t need to tell you. But we’ve got a team headed down there day after tomorrow, and you can go with them. We’ll outfit you, get you a better blade. Food, water, first aid supplies-and you’ll go by truck. By truck, Cass, do you understand me? Just like in the old days. You understand that we cannot give you a gun, but your escort will be armed. Well armed.”

At this, the man called Nyland smiled. Guns were about as easy to come by as fresh meat. They’d been the first thing people hoarded, along with water and batteries. But it had been amazing how quickly they changed hands when people were stupid enough to use them. The outcome of any armed situation was generally that one person ended up dead, and the other added a weapon to his stash. Which didn’t much matter, until people started hiding their weapons stores.

The government had issued a call for an arms surrender when street violence exceeded the capacity of the forces left to contain it, but no one knew what they’d done with the few weapons people were willing to part with. There was no doubt that there was plenty of firepower to be had, only most of it was securely hidden away, its owners dead or infected, most houses raided early on.

It had been Cass’s vague hope, as she walked all those recent days, to find a hidden stash. She wouldn’t be greedy. A small handgun, ample ammunition-that’s what she hoped to find. She knew how to shoot; she’d shot cans and paper targets nailed to trees in the fields at the edge of town with her father for a few years before he left. But she would use the gun only for self-defense or to get Ruthie.

She’d do whatever it took to get Ruthie…and beyond that, she had no plan at all.

But she was no closer to Ruthie now than she’d been before. Unless the Convent was also in Colima-which seemed unlikely-she needed to find a way to escape the plans Evangeline was making for her. And she needed Smoke’s help.

“Mr. Schaffer’s fate is of no concern to you,” Evangeline said, as if reading her thoughts. “He has things to answer for.”

“He’s a good man,” Cass protested, surprising herself, knowing that arguing with them was pointless. Besides, Smoke was nothing to her, her companion for less than forty-eight hours, a quick hand job and a little relief in the dark, a man she’d used and whom, if she remembered him at all in the future, would be only a footnote in her journey. “Whatever you think he did-”

“Fucker knows what he’s done,” Nyland said, a flush creeping over his face, and Cass realized that it was personal for this one. He had lost something or someone by Smoke.

“Nothing that didn’t need doing.” Smoke bit off the words hard.

The guy stood so fast that Cass didn’t have a chance to react, knocking over the glass of water on the table in front of him, and his fist connecting with Smoke’s face made a sound that was louder than Cass would have thought it ought to be.

But Smoke said nothing. Even when blood dripped from the cut under his eye and onto the table, he barely reacted at all.

20

THEY WERE LED TO SEPARATE OFFICES, AND Cass spent the night in the room with the bed on the floor. She slept fitfully until the door opened and a woman she hadn’t seen before filled the doorway. She was thin and muscular in a hooded jersey and shorts and hiking sandals, and she said very little, her face partially obscured by the hood which she had pulled over her curly brown hair.

“I’m here to take you to the bathroom. Then I will take you to the courtyard, where you will be served a meal. Then you’ll come back here.”

They walked through empty halls toward the back of the library, steps echoing on the tiled floors. Sheer drapes covered the tall windows looking out onto the parking lot. The fabric was not substantial enough to block light, but it prevented Cass from seeing much. Pinned to the fabric were hand-lettered posters with slogans like VIGILANCE: REPORT EVERY SIGHTING and EQUAL SHARES FOR EQUAL WORK and CURFEW MEANS YOU.

The outdoor “bathroom,” located in the shed enclosure where the trash Dumpster had been kept Before, wasn’t very different from when Cass had lived in the library. The makeshift panels separating the men’s and women’s sides had been replaced by sheets of plywood joined by sturdy steel braces, the roof now corrugated metal. A curtain hung from a shower rod lent privacy. The pots they had used before had been replaced by a toilet with a removable insert that could be hauled away to be emptied and cleaned.

Cass’s escort handed her a bowl of water, basic toiletries. “Take ten minutes, I’ll wait.”

Inside was a makeshift shower with a water reservoir operated by a rope pull. Cass undressed, turning her back toward the plywood wall before she took off her shirt, even though she was alone. Then she released the water and shivered as it trickled down onto her body in a cold, uneven trickle. She took as long as she dared, scrubbing her hair and skin with the sliver of soap she’d been given before rinsing with the frigid water from the tank. She dried herself with the stiff, scratchy towel the woman had given her and pulled on her clothes.