In the After

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.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN