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.”