Aftertime

by Littlefield, Sophie

  “The koru. Symbol of renewal. From the Maori. I understand you’ve been…away.”

  That was putting it mildly, and Cass was tempted to roll her eyes, but there was something dangerous about the woman, and she merely nodded.

  “Yes. Well. The koru is the symbol of the Rebuilders.”

  Smoke made a sound of barely suppressed anger.

  “I’m lost,” Cass said. “I’m sorry, it’s like you all think I know things that I don’t. Who exactly are the Rebuilders?”

  “Just what it sounds like,” the man on Evangeline’s left said. His facial hair had been carefully shaved to a very thin line along his jaw, something that would be difficult under any circumstances but far harder in Aftertime with its scarcity of grooming aids. “We’re rebuilding. We’re taking what’s left after the rest of the world tried to bring our country to its knees—the raw materials, the resources, the people—and we’re building it back into a civilization.”

  “‘We’ who?” Smoke demanded. “All I see is half a dozen folks with guns and a few dozen more without any.”

  “We’re armed because we have to be,” Evangeline said. “As long as there are people like you around—murderers and insurrectionists. But there are many more of us, as you well know. For every nut who wants to be Davy Crockett, there’s fifty who know that community’s built on strong leadership.”

  “I’m no murderer,” Smoke said. “I was acting to prevent more violence. Which, I should point out, we had very little of until you people showed up.”

  “We know a lot about you,” the other man, the one who hadn’t yet spoken, said. He was an unremarkable man of average height and small eyes. The most interesting thing about him, in fact, was how entirely without expression his face was, as though nothing that had happened in his life had made a lasting impression. “Smoke. Or should I call you Edward? Eddy? Ted? Am I close?”

  “If you know so much about me,” Smoke said tightly, “then I should think you know the answer.”

  He chuckled, a dry, scratchy sound. “Okay. Got me there, big guy. Edward Schaffer. While we’re at it, I’m Cole and that’s Nyland. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You’re a man of many accomplishments.”

  “I was a coach. A counselor. Nothing more.”

  More rough amusement. “You’re far too modest, Ed. I mean Smoke. Got to admit, I’m torn here. I don’t really get this renaming shit, like after the Siege suddenly everyone’s hatching out of eggs all over again. Way I see it, we’re all the same as when we went in. Just the dice got rolled a little different this time around for some of us.”

  He picked up a pencil and tapped it on the table. “I know who you used to work for, buddy,” he said softly. “And we all know what they did. A lot of people suffered, but there’s a chance to make things right for the ones who are still here. A time for justice, maybe.”

  Cass looked back and forth between the men, trying to understand. Who had Smoke worked for? What had he done?

  “Cole’s an idealist,” Evangeline said. “I’m more of a practical person. An opportunist, you might say. And I’ll be honest with you—when you two showed up tonight, I saw an opportunity. To take a strong and public stand against insurrection.”

  Smoke made a sound in his throat—disgust, contempt—and his hand tightened on Cass’s leg. She sensed that many of his emotions battled for prominence—but fear was not among them.

  “You were of no interest to me,” Evangeline continued, staring directly at Cass. “But in the last half hour, that has changed. And now you are far, far, more interesting than anything else that has happened in a long while.”

  Cass blinked, trying to maintain eye contact with the woman, but Evangeline’s words chilled her.

  “Can you guess why?” Evangeline asked her, very softly.

  Cass could guess. Dread collected like dew in her mind, the words echoing and reverberating. Interesting. Far more interesting. She ran her fingers through what was left of her hair, tugging at the ends, wanting to wrap them around her face, hide herself from scrutiny.

  Had Elaine sold her out?

  Had her old friend been tortured into it? Or rewarded?

  “You think I’m…” Cass whispered, hating her voice for shaking.

  “I know what you are. I’ve seen it before, and I know what to look for. I can tell from your eyes…and the way your hair is growing in, and there’s only one way you get marks like you have on your arms. Let me see.”

  Before Cass could stop her, Evangeline seized her arm and ran her strong, cold hands up and down the surface, fingertips tracing the faded scars. The touch was intimate, far too familiar, and Cass reacted with revulsion. She wanted to yank back her hand. She wanted to run. She wanted to wipe the traces of Evangeline’s touch from her skin.

  “Have you ever met another one like you?” Evangeline asked, unable to contain a jittering hint of excitement.

  Cass hesitated. Others, like her? Those who had been attacked, bitten, infected…and lived? Was it possible?

  How long had it been that she felt alone, since she carried her shame with her like a skin? “What do you mean?”

  “Outliers,” Evangeline said, her lips curving into a perfect, chilly smile. “People like you, who survived an attack. Who got better. Who fought off the infection.”

  So it was true. Disbelief mixed with wild hope as Cass allowed herself to consider the possibility. Just knowing there were others…they could all be like her, weakened, damaged…but still, she would not be alone. The idea was intoxicating.

  “I’m not saying I believe you but…how could anyone do that?” she asked, trying to keep her enthusiasm hidden.

  Evangeline’s smile grew broader. She knew she had won.

  “Nobody knows,” she said. “Not yet anyway. But our people are working on it. They’re studying people like you. Working on developing a vaccine.”

  “That isn’t possible,” Smoke said flatly. “Don’t listen to this, Cass.”

  “Who are you to say what’s possible?” Evangeline demanded, raising her voice, fury twisting her mouth. “How far have you traveled? Do you even know what’s happening outside this town? This county?”

  “I thought you people didn’t use the word county anymore,” Smoke said, meeting Evangeline’s anger with his own. He had gone very still next to Cass, his energy coiled and tense. “I thought you believed those designations were meaningless Aftertime.”

  Evangeline’s fine skin flushed a faint pink and she glared at Smoke. The others in the room waited, eyes on their leader. At last she gave a small nod.

  “You’re right, of course, Smoke. Land divisions from Before, they don’t make much sense anymore…but that’ll change. Do you have the faintest idea what’s going on at the borders?”

  “The borders? The borders are a myth,” Smoke snapped. “Blueleaf crossed the state line the first time a strong wind came up. And you get one Beater with a bad sense of direction, he’ll be up to Oregon or down to Mexico and never know the difference.”

  “You have no idea,” Evangeline said softly, drawing out the words, enjoying them.

  “We’re less than sixty miles from the Nevada border, as the crow flies. If they’d armed it, we’d know.”

  Evangeline laughed, a rich, throaty laugh full of pleasure.

  “What’s so funny,” Cass demanded.

  “It’s…it’s not funny. It’s sad, really,” Evangeline said, wiping a mirthful tear from the corner of her eye. “Sad in so many ways…sad that even intelligent people like the two of you can be so naive.”

  Smoke tightened his hands to fists and laid them on the table. His jaw worked with fury as he leaned forward, closing the distance between him and Evangeline.

  “Say what you mean,” he muttered.

  “Oh, all right, fine,” Evangeline said, almost pouting—as though he had knocked down a game of checkers. “The border isn’t California. It’s the Rockies, all the way down to the Colorado River. They’ve cut off half the f
ucking country.”

  19

  CASS HELD HER BREATH.

  It wasn’t possible. The Rockies…in her mind she called up the map from her high school Geography textbook, the West laid out in shades of sienna and gold and peach and russet. California stretching all the way down to the Baja Peninsula, up to Washington and Oregon. Idaho, Nevada, Utah, Arizona…thousands and thousands of miles stretching out to the Pacific Ocean to the west, and the mountains to the east.

  No one could contain that, no matter how many fences they built, no matter how many volunteers they armed, how many mines they laid…could they? And not with the American government effectively gone.

  “I don’t believe you,” Smoke said, but there was the faintest trace of doubt in his voice.

  “Believe, or don’t believe.” Evangeline shrugged. “Now that, right there, that’s the true enemy of the future. Ignorance. Indifference. Failure to adapt.”

  “As opposed to wild theories and fearmongering? Trading on people’s loss and grief to justify…” Smoke gestured around him, including the others in the room—the guns, the library, the hidden citizens. “All of this?”

  Evangeline folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. “You’re starting to bore me. I thought we could engage in a little intelligent discourse, but you’re nothing more than an—an agitator. You didn’t fool Skiv, you know.”

  “Fool him? What are you talking about?”

  “With your whole ‘they fired first’ defense—”

  “That wasn’t a defense, that’s the truth,” Smoke cut her off. “There are people who survived that day who can tell you the real story—some living here. At least, they were, unless you’ve thrown them out. For agitating, as you call it.”

  “You’ll be taken down to Colima tomorrow,” Evangeline continued on, as though he hadn’t spoken. “To the detention camp until they can schedule your trial. Although it might be a while, seeing as there are a few other more pressing issues on folks’ minds. You ought to like it, though—from what I hear, it’s full of people like you.” She gave him a smile, flicking out her tongue to lick her lips. “Enemies of progress.”

  “Smoke, what is she talking about?” Cass demanded in a whisper. Everyone could hear, but she didn’t care; the panic that had lodged in her gut was escalating.

  Smoke shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off Evangeline. “Sounds like they’ve built themselves a jail,” he said softly. “What does that say about your new society—you’ve built jails and an army first…”

  “We’ve built a community,” Evangeline snapped. “And a research center. In the university hospital. We’ve got the best of the best working down there. We’re the only hope for the future, and people know it. You think we’re forcing people to stay here?”

  She waited, but no one said anything.

  “Anyone can leave, anytime they want. We held a vote. The people here had the option to choose to go it alone. Of course, we offered protection, resources…better facilities, cleaner water. And when we do develop the vaccine, our people will get it first.” She focused her gaze on Cass with distaste. “It will be quite a while before we have enough for anyone living outside our control.”

  “You aren’t developing a vaccine,” Smoke muttered. “There’s no way—the equipment, the intellectual capital, the infrastructure, none of that survived. They took it out—all of it. Berkeley’s a fucking smoking hole in the ground. Stanford got leveled. They knew where the research was going on and bombed the shit out of it.”

  “I think you’ve said enough,” Evangeline said. “You speak from ignorance. And I want to talk to your girlfriend now, not you. Nyland, keep him in line.”

  The man with the thin beard stepped forward, gripping a handheld wand with prongs at the end. Cass realized with dismay that it was a Taser.

  “Don’t believe them,” Smoke said, not bothering to lower his voice. “No matter what happens. Promise me that, Cass.”

  Cass gave him a small nod, wondering how she was supposed to know who to trust. Evangeline watched her with cold interest. “Let me lay out the future for you, sister.”

  “I’m not your sister,” Cass snapped. There was something not right about Evangeline, some realignment of 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—”