Wake Me After the Apocalypse

by Jordan Rivet

  Joanna didn’t really grasp most of what Garrett was saying. He was explaining the least interesting part of this whole story. Of course someone had pulled her out of the fire. But who were his people, and how did they come to be here? And how was the guy who had been her peer old enough to be her father?

  “You’re not saying anything,” Garrett said. “Do you want more water? Maybe you should sleep—”

  “I think I’ve slept enough,” Joanna said. “Did my cryo tank keep me under too long? Is that how you’re here, with people and a cabin and gray hair, and I’m still eighteen years old?”

  Garrett looked at her gravely, and she thought her heart might spontaneously combust. He was so serious, so earnest. The gray hair suited him. Gray hair! How did this happen? Her thoughts were scrambled, disoriented. She clutched the soft quilt as if to anchor herself to this strange new reality.

  “You woke up right on schedule,” Garrett said. “We came out of cryosleep eighteen years early. An earthquake partially destroyed the bunker, but one set of cryo tanks in the 300s counted down when it happened. Those of us who woke up got the others out of their tanks. The ceiling had already collapsed on half the cohort. We saved as many as we could.”

  We. He was talking about “we” the way they used to talk about their team, a single unit, ready to face the new world together.

  She swallowed. “You didn’t check to see if the rest of us were still in there?”

  “Of course we did. We tried to dig through the rubble, but the cryo chamber was unstable. We thought all the tanks below 280 had been crushed, and we couldn’t tunnel in far enough to check. The rest of the cave could have come down on our heads at any moment.”

  Joanna wasn’t sure what to say to that. She’d had the very same thought about digging around the fallen slabs of rock from her side of the bunker, but she had been alone, with no one to help her carry out the work. And she hadn’t had eighteen years to do it.

  “What about the primary mineshaft?”

  “We tried that too, but it was blocked by a ton of rock.”

  Joanna remembered the debris that had cascaded into the control room when she forced open the door at the bottom of the mineshaft. She pictured the huge rock wedged above the broken lift cage that she had to clamber around every time she went in or out of the bunker. With all the dirt packed in around it, it would have been difficult to dig through from the top—especially if you didn’t know it was open at the bottom. Still, she’d managed to break through, and there was just one of her.

  “We thought we’d be digging up bodies,” Garrett said, watching her warily. “I thought you were—”

  “How many?” she interrupted.

  “How many did we lose?”

  “How many survived?” She’d seen enough bodies on her own side of the cave-in. She wanted to know about the living.

  “Well, there were three hundred twelve of us in the initial group. But it has been hard, Joanna, much harder than we thought.” Garrett rubbed his hands through his graying hair, and Joanna noticed the marks on them again. Scars. Calluses from years of hard labor. “We lost a lot of people in the first years to accidents, illness, malnutrition . . . We’re finally starting to build up our numbers again. We’re at two hundred ninety-eight right now. Two hundred ninety-nine with you.”

  Joanna nodded, thinking of the cabins she’d glimpsed through the door. Two hundred ninety-eight people. It was a far cry from the thousand chosen ones who had gone into the bunker, but it was better than being alone.

  The shock at seeing Garrett was slowly dissipating. This was good. Things might not have worked out exactly as they were supposed to, but Joanna and Garrett were together again, and at least some of their friends had survived. She was dying to ask which members of Blue Team Seven were still alive, but first she just wanted to look at Garrett, to savor this moment. She had thought he was dead. She’d grieved for him, mourned the loss of their future together—and yet here he was, real and sturdy and as handsome as ever. Was this his cabin? Could this be the home they’d planned to build together?

  She reached out to him, and he took her hand. It was her first human contact in two hundred years. A lump formed in her singed throat. She tightened her grip, pulling him closer, needing to feel more of his skin against hers.

  But instead of leaning in to kiss her, Garrett dropped his head and pressed his forehead into her hand. Shoulders shaking, he held her hand tight against his face, as if afraid it would disappear. This must be surreal for him too. He had believed she was dead—believed it so sincerely he hadn’t come looking for her while she slept away beneath the earth. She felt moisture on her fingers, a tear escaping Garrett’s eyes.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “It’s all right. We’re together now.” She twisted her hand loose from his grip and lifted his chin, which was scratchy with stubble. She grinned at him through her own tears. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

  Garrett’s eyes roved over her face. They were the same hazel-brown she remembered but desperately sad. He still didn’t lean in.

  “God, Joanna,” he said at last, sounding as if he carried a great weight on his shoulders. “You’re so young.”

  She laughed, but she felt brittle, as if she were a piece of spun glass about to shatter. There had to be a reason why he looked so sad, why he still hadn’t bent down to kiss her.

  “I’ll have you know I’m two hundred eighteen years old.”

  “Joanna,” he said. “I—”

  The door flew open, and a little boy with brown skin skipped into the cabin.

  “Mommy wants to know if you want lunch yet.” He darted to Garrett’s side. “She said not to wake up the stranger, but she looks pretty awake to me.”

  Garrett stared at the little boy, words apparently failing him. He still held Joanna’s hand, but his grip had gone limp and cold. She tugged her hand free, a faint ringing in her ears.

  “Are you going to introduce me?”

  “I’m Robbie,” the little boy said. “I never met a stranger before.” He had a halo of dark curls and a warm, good-natured smile. The exact smile Joanna had dreamed about a hundred times.

  “This is my old friend Joanna,” Garrett said at last. “Joanna, this is my son.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It wasn’t fair. Joanna couldn’t process it any other way. She had done her part during training, been a good team player, kept up her spirits at the end of the world. She had worked hard when she woke from cryosleep, not giving up even when she believed everyone she had ever known and loved was dead.

  And now. Now, when she thought everything would finally be okay and she could reunite with Garrett and Blue Team Seven at last, he had been snatched away from her. He had a son. He had moved on. He had left her buried in the earth and moved on.

  The little boy, Robbie, held out a hand. She shook it numbly, a force of habit that couldn’t be unlearned. His fingers were small, birdlike. She guessed he was around eight years old.

  “Hello, Joanna,” he said. “Do your legs hurt? Mommy wouldn’t let me see them when you got here. Are you hungry? Mommy’s grilling fish, and she says—”

  “Let’s give Joanna a chance to breathe,” Garrett said. “She’s had a hard day. Will you go tell Mommy she’s awake, buddy? Ask her to bring lunch for both of us to the porch.”

  “Okay. Bye, Joanna!”

  Robbie skipped back out of the cabin. The door slammed, echoing like a bombshell in the sudden stillness.

  A hundred questions whirled through Joanna’s mind, but none seemed adequate. She didn’t want to look at Garrett and wanted to at the same time, as if she could seek out something in his face that would make this all okay.

  “He’s cute,” she said at last.

  A shadow of a smile crossed Garrett’s face. “He’ll talk your ear off if you let him, but he’s a good boy.”

  “Is . . . is he your only child?”

  Garrett shook his head, and that unbearable sadness in hi
s eyes receded a bit. “I have three. Robbie is eight, Daniel is six, and . . . and baby Joanna Beth is three now. I guess she’s not a baby anymore. It goes by fast.”

  “It sure does.” Hollowness filled Joanna, tempered only by the pain in her legs. She was almost grateful for that now. “You named your daughter Joanna.”

  “It was Chloe’s idea,” Garrett said. “She wanted to honor your memory.”

  Joanna blinked. “Chloe? What say did Chloe have in . . . Oh.”

  She thought of little Robbie’s warm brown skin, of Chloe’s cryo tank located way back in the 500s. Her gaze darted to Garrett’s left hand, where a hammered metal band encircled his ring finger.

  “I thought you were dead,” Garrett said. “You have to know that it was a long time before we—”

  “Don’t explain,” Joanna said. “Please. I need a minute.” She couldn’t take apologies or explanations right now. When Garrett introduced his son, when he said the names of his children, it was obvious he loved this life he had ended up with. This entire life he had lived without Joanna.

  “Do you want me to leave you alone?” Garrett said. “I’m sure this is a lot to take in right now.”

  Joanna wanted to tell him it was fine, that she was a big girl who could handle the reality of the situation. But she had been wishing with all her heart that some of her friends had survived. She finally had them within reach—but it was too much. She felt as if her lungs were collapsing from the pressure of this bittersweet reunion. She reached for the second bottle of water and gulped it down, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

  When she didn’t speak, Garrett stood and went to the door.

  “I’ll bring you some food in a minute. I . . . I’m sorry, Joanna.”

  She didn’t answer, and he closed the door softly behind him.

  The following days passed in a fog as the second-degree burns on Joanna’s legs healed. By some miracle, she hadn’t broken any bones when the doorframe collapsed on her, but the slightest movement hurt her lower body, and she went through bouts of near delirium from the pain. She had to give herself a pep talk every time she used the bedpan or shifted her position to keep the blood flowing to her limbs.

  A former medical student—Priya from Red Team Three—had taken on the role of village physician, and she provided Joanna with primitive medical care. Though nearly three hundred people had survived, the BRP officials with the most crucial training, including the doctors, had all been in the cryo tanks closest to the exit chamber. The community had been forced to make do without them.

  For the first few days, Priya was the only person Joanna saw apart from Garrett. Joanna remembered her, though they hadn’t been closely acquainted at orientation. She had long braided hair, strong hands, and a stern face that hadn’t softened much with age.

  The remaining members of Blue Team Seven were eager to visit Joanna, but Garrett asked them to hold off for a while to avoid overwhelming her. Only Ruby, Vincent, and Chloe still lived in the village. Troy and Beth had perished in the collapse of the bunker—Troy on Joanna’s side and Beth in the wreckage of the 500 section only a few feet away from Chloe’s tank. Blake had gone on a scouting expedition a year ago and had never returned.

  Joanna wanted to see them as soon as possible, but Priya and Garrett agreed she needed peace and quiet while she healed. Priya seemed to think Garrett should stay away too. Despite her disapproving mutters, Garrett remained at Joanna’s side through the worst of her recovery.

  Sometimes it got bad. Nightmares and fever accompanied the pain, which was eventually replaced by a horrible itching sensation as her skin slowly repaired itself. Garrett held Joanna’s hand tight whenever Priya changed her bandages, letting her scream into his shoulder when she needed it. She was getting used to the sight of so many years on his face, but sometimes she wished he would visit her less frequently. It was easier to forget what had happened when she couldn’t see his wrinkles and gray hairs up close. She could handle heartbreak and physical pain—but not both at the same time.

  When Garrett visited, he told her a bit about life in the village, about the farms they struggled to cultivate and the edible plants they’d discovered in the wilderness. Most of BRP’s survival supplies had been buried on her side of the bunker, so they’d made almost everything from scratch. Their first decade had been brutal compared to her weeks living off the comforts of the exit chamber.

  “We all got used to seeing each other’s ribs for a while there. But this spot has been good to us. We’re right by the river. You’ll have to check out the irrigation system I built when you’re well.”

  Joanna suspected Garrett talked about farming and construction so much because he didn’t know how to discuss the more personal aspects of his life. Telling her about the water system he’d designed was safer than going into details about the family he’d built with Chloe. But snippets crept in, stories of his son’s first steps across the freshly tilled earth, of the rooms he’d added to his own cabin to make space for his growing family. He told her of the winter his middle boy had been gravely ill and how they’d found an herb that helped him fight the infection at the last moment. He told her of the way the children grew, the way they changed so fast. Joanna felt as if her life were flashing before her eyes in these stories—the life Garrett had promised they would share—and she had missed the whole thing.

  Sometimes Garrett would sense he’d gone too far, and he’d leave her alone with her thoughts and the itching, burning pain in her legs. She wasn’t sure if she preferred that or if she’d rather have him by her side in spite of everything. It depended on the day.

  As she got through the worst of the healing process, Garrett visited her less and less. It was often just Joanna and Priya in the homely cabin. At first she’d thought she lay in Garrett’s own bed, but the cabin was too small for five people, and she hadn’t seen a single member of Garrett’s family since meeting Robbie that first day.

  “Whose house am I staying in?” Joanna asked Priya as she rubbed a crude ointment into her legs one evening.

  “It belonged to a couple, Rupert and Sam,” Priya said. “They left during the difficulties. Another couple would have moved in here eventually, but you’re welcome to it for now.”

  “The difficulties?”

  “A splinter group challenged Garrett’s leadership a while back.” Priya moved around the bed to work on Joanna’s other leg. Her skin tingled painfully as the ointment touched it.

  “Garrett’s leadership?”

  “He’s the mayor.” Priya frowned. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  “He’s been in charge almost since the beginning. We call him Chief. Not sure he likes that, come to think of it.”

  “And people fought him?”

  “They tried.” Priya rubbed ointment on Joanna’s legs a bit more briskly than necessary. “A few people died in the fighting, and the others moved on. We don’t know where they ended up.” She sat back, twisting the lid back on the clay jar of ointment. “There you go. The burns are scabbing nicely. You should be able to move around soon.”

  “That’s good news,” Joanna said, still trying to process what Priya had said about these difficulties and Garrett’s role in them. “I’m looking forward to seeing the village.”

  “Everyone’s curious about you, especially the kids.” Priya bustled around the cabin, putting away the medicine and tidying the water bottles and cold compresses on the side table. “They think your memories of the world before will be fresher than their parents’. I hope you remember a lot about animals. Not many of those around these days, and that’s all the children want to know about.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Good. I’d best be getting back to my family. I’ll check on you first thing in the morning.” Priya marched over to the door, her thick braid swinging. She paused with a hand on the carved wooden knob. “Joanna? Forgive me for being blunt, but is it true you and Garrett were a couple back at BRP?�
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  Joanna pretended to be very interested in the shine of the ointment on her legs. She feared the people who knew about her and Garrett would pity her when she finally emerged from her sickbed. The prospect made her a little queasy, but there was no point pretending they had never meant anything to each other.

  “Yes, we were together,” she said at last.

  “Then you should know,” Priya said, “Garrett and Chloe have done a lot for this community. They held us together when times were bad. I’m sure this is hard for you, but we don’t want anything—or anyone—to tear them apart.”

  Joanna blinked. Okay, maybe she would have appreciated a little pity. Judging by Priya’s steely tone, she was very serious about that warning.

  “That was a long time ago,” Joanna said evenly. “Garrett and I are over.”

  Priya narrowed her eyes, as if she could hear the lie, and the temperature in the cabin seemed to drop a few degrees. She had seen Garrett sitting by Joanna’s bedside, holding her hand and talking her through the worst of the pain. She must know how fresh this still was, how recently in Joanna’s reality she and Garrett had been planning their future together.

  Joanna gazed back at Priya, blinking rapidly as she attempted to hide the disorienting sense of loss she’d endured since waking up and learning Garrett had married someone else. She couldn’t let on how much it hurt.

  At last Priya gave a crisp nod and left the cabin. As the door slammed behind her, Joanna lay back and let her tears dampen the grass-filled pillow.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next day, Garrett carried her outside. Her burns had healed enough for her to move without screaming, though she still wasn’t ready to walk on her singed feet. She couldn’t wait to soak in the sunshine and breathe something besides the dense air of her sick room.

  Priya checked Joanna’s bandages and wrapped her in a thick quilt, and then Garrett lifted her up. His scent hit her like a gust of wind as she slung her arm around his neck. It was earthier than before, soil and pine replacing the aroma of fresh laundry, but in other ways it was exactly the same. The memory of their first kiss slammed into her, and she found herself calculating the exact distance from his mouth to hers.