Contents
Acknowledgments
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Part Two
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
About the Author
Back Ad
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Acknowledgments
There are so many people involved in making this book come to be. I want to thank my amazing editor, Karen Chaplin, who made me dig deep and helped me build such a wondrously frightening world. I would also like to thank everyone at HarperTeen—my supportive editorial director, Barbara Lalicki, and always-helpful editorial assistant, Alyssa Miele; my fantastic designer, Cara Petrus, who made the book come alive in such an amazing way; the detail-oriented production department, including production editor Jon Howard, who corrects my sometimes-incorrect use of grammar; and the awesome marketing and publicity departments, including Kim VandeWater, Lindsay Blechman, and Olivia deLeon. You have all done such an incredible job. This book would not be what it is today without all of you. I couldn’t ask for a better team.
I’d also like to thank Maria Gomez, who responded so positively to my book. I’ll always remember our first phone conversation in which she was as excited about In the After as I was.
Lastly, I’d like to thank Katherine Boyle of Veritas Literary. You’re, quite simply, Awesome with a capital A. You’re the best agent anyone could ask for.
PART ONE
AFTER
CHAPTER ONE
I only go out at night.
I walk along the empty street and pause, my muscles tense and ready. The breeze rustles the overgrown grass and I tilt my head slightly. I’m listening for Them.
All the warnings I remember from horror movies are wrong. Monsters do not rule the night, waiting patiently to spring from the shadows. They hunt during the day, when the light is good and their vision is at its best. At night, if you don’t make a noise, they can shuffle past you within an inch of your nose and never know you are there.
It’s so very quiet, but that doesn’t mean that They are not near. I walk again, slowly at first, but then I pick up my pace. My bare feet pad noiselessly on the cracked sidewalk. Home is only a few blocks away. Not far if I remain silent, but it may as well be miles if They spot me.
I’ve learned to live in a soundless world. I haven’t spoken in three years. Not to comment on the weather, not to shout a warning, not even to whisper my own name: Amy. I know it’s been three years because I’ve counted the seasons since it happened. In the summer before the After when I’d just turned fourteen.
A branch snaps in the distance and I stop immediately, my body tense. I shift my bag slowly, carefully adjusting the weight so the cans inside don’t clank together. Every little noise screams at me that something is wrong, but it could be nothing.
Clouds shift and moonlight suddenly brightens the street. I glance around, searching, studying an abandoned, rusted car for any signs of the creatures. When I don’t spot Them, I almost continue on, but at the last second I decide to play it safe. Stepping into an abandoned yard, I disappear into the shrubbery. I’ll wait until a cloud passes in front of the moon and darkness reclaims the night.
I can’t take any chances, not with Baby waiting for me. My bag holds the food we need to survive. We only have each other. I found Baby shortly after the world failed, when I still believed things would return to normal. I no longer hold that hope. Nothing this broken can ever be fixed.
CHAPTER TWO
This is how I think of time: the past is Before, and the present is the After. Before was reality; the After, a nightmare.
Before I was happy. I had friends and sleepovers. I wanted to learn how to drive, to get a jump start on my learner’s permit. The worst thing in my life was math homework and not being allowed to date. I thought my parents were so clueless; my dad with all his “green” concerns (I told my friends he was an eco-douche), and my mom, who was never home except for Sunday-night family dinner. I was kinder to my mom, though, and only called her a workaholic. Her job was with the government, her work very hush-hush.
I always thought of myself as smart, and I was definitely a smart-ass to my parents. I loved seeing them squirm, letting them know that I didn’t buy into their “because I said so” crap. I was good in school. I could always guess the endings of movies and books. Now there is no school, there are no more movies, no new books, no more friends.
The creatures arrived on a Saturday. I know it was a Saturday because if it were a weekday I would have been at school and I would be dead. Sundays I went with my father to visit his parents at Sunny Pine, and if They had come on a Sunday I would also be dead.
I remember that the electricity flickered and I was annoyed because I was watching TV. I had wondered if my father was on the roof screwing around with the solar panels. They didn’t require much maintenance, but he liked to hose them off twice a year, which always messed with all our electronics. I checked the garage. His electric car was gone. He was at the farmers’ market, probably overpaying for organic carrots.
I microwaved some pizza bagels (the ones my mom hid from my dad at the back of the freezer) and sat back in front of the TV, flipping through the channels mindlessly. I’d wished my parents would listen to me and upgrade to the premium cable package. I thought life was so unfair. My mother had bought my father a brand-new electric car for more money than I would probably need for college, but she wouldn’t spend fifty bucks extra a month to get some decent television.
I checked my cell phone but there were no calls from Sabrina or Tim. I was supposed to go to a movie with them later. Tim had been madly in love with Sabrina forever but her parents would only let her go out with him if I tagged along. I joked with Sabrina about being the old spinster in a nineteenth-century novel. “No secret love child for you two,” I’d tell her with a wink. “Not while Matron Amy is on duty.”
I didn’t really mind being their chaperone; they never made me feel awkward or like a third wheel. Sabrina hadn’t even decided if she was all that into Tim. I’d been friends with her since fifth grade, when I was the weirdo who skipped a grade and she was the nice girl who didn’t treat me like I had the plague. Pretty soon we were friends and stayed besties through middle school and into high school.
I tossed my phone on the coffee table and kicked up my feet, giving my full attention to the TV screen for the first time. But I noticed that even when I changed the channel, the picture stayed the same. I paused, curious. The president was making a speech. Boring. I ate my snack, only half listening.
“It has come to our attention,” the president droned, “that we are not isolated in this attack.”
I sat up, my bite half chewed. Attack? I was too young to remember the string of terrorist attacks at the beginning of the century, but my mother worked for the government and was constantly t
alking about our “lack of counterterrorist mechanisms.”
I turned up the volume. The president looked exhausted, bags under his eyes, makeup caked on for the cameras. “The structure landed in Central Park early this morning,” he said into twenty microphones. “As of now, the fate of anyone residing in New York City and the surrounding suburbs is unknown. We are working to find the cause of this interruption in communication as soon as—” He was cut short. The breaking news logo flashed across the screen.
I took a swig of soda. It was strange that the network had interrupted the president. I didn’t understand what they were talking about, didn’t know what it all meant yet. I glanced at the screen and what I saw nearly made me choke on my soda. They had footage of the “structure” in the park. Something emerged, turned toward the camera, stared. Still coughing, I pressed PAUSE on the DVR remote and stood.
That was the first time I saw an alien.
CHAPTER THREE
After They came, I did not leave my house for three weeks. The broadcasts stopped after the first few days, but they were not helpful anyway. They kept repeating the same things. Aliens had landed, they were not friendly, half of the planet was dead.
They were horrifyingly fast, traveling across the globe at an alarming pace. They didn’t destroy buildings or attack our resources, like in so many crappy Hollywood movies. They wanted us. They hungered for us.
That first day, I was slow to understand what was happening.
My hands shook as I desperately tried to call my friends and family. My father didn’t carry a cell phone. He didn’t believe in them, said they gave people brain cancer. My mom had one of those fancy touch-screen phones that her job paid for, but she never answered, and her office line went straight to voice mail. Sabrina’s phone just rang and rang. So did Tim’s. I tried my cousin in Virginia and my mom’s parents in Miami. No one answered. I went through the phone book on my cell, furiously calling one number after another. Eventually I could no longer dial out. I kept getting a recorded message. “All circuits are busy. Please hang up and try your call again at a later time.” Soon I couldn’t even get service. I stared at the screen for a minute, then, frustrated, threw the phone against the wall.
I curled into a ball on the couch and tried not to cry, but I couldn’t hold back the tears for long. When my father didn’t come back after a few hours, I had to admit to myself that he was dead. He had camping skills, but I could not imagine him holding his own against an alien attack. My mother might be okay, her government offices were high security, surrounded by soldiers. But I had no idea how to reach her, and could soldiers really protect her from those repulsive creatures? I had to face the reality that my parents could both be gone.
I stayed on the sofa and cried until I had no tears left and not enough energy to sob. I eventually crawled to the fridge and grabbed my dad’s Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer. It was the one junk food he allowed himself. He said life wasn’t worth living without Cherry Garcia. I gorged myself on ice cream and ended up vomiting purple-pink onto the floor. I fell asleep there, exhausted and miserable.
When I woke several hours later, I couldn’t figure out why I was on the kitchen floor. I opened my eyes and saw the mess I had made, instantly remembering everything. I wanted to stay there, but the smell finally got to me. I sat up and rubbed my deadened arms. Sobbing hysterically wouldn’t help my dad or my friends. It wouldn’t help me. Something inside me shifted or maybe just broke. I had to take care of myself.
I stood carefully, my legs still shaky, and went to retrieve the cleaning supplies from under the sink. When I was done cleaning the mess, I numbly grabbed a book from the shelf and hid in my room, unable to face my own thoughts. I needed to escape, if just for a short while, into a story from long ago.
My first night alone, I still assumed things would settle down. I stayed glued to the TV, watching the news report the same thing over and over. People were dying, and I was sick with grief, but I knew that we would overcome the invaders or whatever they were. We were the strongest nation on earth.
The second day passed and the TV was out, but there were still people on the radio. I was comforted by their voices, even though they spoke of mass chaos. People tried to run away, but They were everywhere. People tried to hide, but They found them.
Then on the third day, the radio went silent. I stayed in my room and obsessively read one book after another, to keep my mind on anything other than what was happening. I’d always escaped into books, but now reading had become something more. It allowed me to be somewhere else, to feel something else, not just the numbness that overtook my body and made me wonder if I was still alive.
My father loved Shakespeare; he would read passages with me and discuss all the intricacies. I reread Romeo and Juliet and cried my eyes out over their loss. Before I’d always argued with my father that the star-crossed lovers were idiots who should have coordinated their plans better, but this time they got to me. I completely broke down and crawled into my parents’ bed. Draping their covers over my body, I sobbed myself to sleep. I was like that back then; my mood would swing between an almost hysterical sense of loss and having no feelings at all.
On the fourth day, I made myself eat and then tidied the house, trying to do the normal things that people do. I put out all the pictures I had of my friends and parents, gluing a collage to my bedroom door. I ransacked every photo album, placing each picture with great care, keeping my mind occupied. It was so much easier than facing reality. Sometimes I found it hard to concentrate, what with the world ending and all. I wanted so badly to leave the house, to see if anyone else was around, but I was scared of Them.
I finally decided to go out on our rooftop deck, and watch Them chase people down the street. They were faster than I’d thought possible, a blur of green, the color of pea soup. Glowing yellow eyes sometimes caught the light and flashed gold. The creatures pounced, not bothering to kill their prey before feeding. They ripped skin and flesh from their victims, who screeched in agony. The cries always brought more of Them, eager for their next meal. Those first few days were full of screams. It was terrible, but the real terror came when there were no more shrieks, when the world went quiet. I thought I was the only one left on the planet. There was only me and Them.
The fourth night, I turned on all the lights in the house. My block was dark, except for our home, my home. No one else had electricity, but I still did. I silently thanked my father who wanted to live footprint-free by installing solar panels and insisting we always put more into the grid than what we took out. We were as close to self-sustaining as current technology allowed.
I didn’t know then that They were drawn to the lights, like moths to a flame. I didn’t know that they couldn’t see very well. They were attracted to anything bright, especially once they realized that where there was light in the darkness, there were humans, which for Them meant food.
The electric fence saved me, and that was my mother’s doing. Even though we lived in an excellent, safe neighborhood in Chicago, she needed to protect the work she brought home. She had the fence installed behind our beautiful iron gate, the one They ripped up and destroyed in just a few minutes. She needed to make our house a “secure area.” My mother and father were so different I wondered sometimes how they managed to stand each other at all. Still, they were so in love. Their public displays of affection were always embarrassing and I used to make gagging noises to try and get them to stop. Now I regret the way I acted toward them. I regret a lot of things that happened Before.
CHAPTER FOUR
After those first few days, I quickly learned to keep the noise to a minimum and the lights off when it was dark outside. They hid at night, but were still attracted by light and sound. Even small noises would bring Them to the fence, their green skin sparking as They tried to tear through the electrified chain links.
I spied on Them through my dad’s nature binoculars, carefully watching, mesmerized by their grotesqueness, their
snarls and sharp teeth. They had two arms and two legs, but that is where their similarities to humans ended. They were hairless; all the same shade of yellow-green, like sunburned grass. Most were naked, though some wore torn shirts or pants they must have scavenged from the dead. One sported a dirty Cubs hat, at which I couldn’t help but laugh. My sense of humor was very different in the After.
I spotted them at the fence sometimes. They heard me if I was too loud, or occasionally They wandered over aimlessly. They didn’t seem to be very curious in general, not concerned with anything but the pursuit of food. I tried to ignore Them when They rattled the fence, braving the electric shocks in search of meals. I’d go and hide in my room, but eventually I developed a sick fascination with Them. I decided to study one up close, determined to know what they really looked like. One day I gathered my courage, took a deep breath, and walked into the backyard. Humming softly, I waited.
Within a few seconds, one made it to the fence. It grabbed the metal with both hands and was jolted back by a painful shock. Shaking its bald, dull-green head, it quickly got up and tried again to attack, never taking its eyes off me. Again and again it came after me; either it couldn’t learn from the earlier shocks or it just didn’t care. It gnashed its teeth, pulling back its thin lips to reveal yellow fangs. It had practically no nose, only two holes where a nose should be. Puke-green flesh hung loosely from its body like baggy clothes. I could smell its burning flesh as its hands became blackened from the electric current. As long as I was within sight, it would pursue me single-mindedly.
I was frozen in place, terrified yet fascinated. I called out, “How have you destroyed us?” The sound of my voice only made the alien struggle harder against the wire of the fence trying desperately to attack me.
Finally I left it, snarling and slobbering, relieved and confident that the fence would hold. I went back inside and watched from the window, my shaking hands wiping the nervous sweat from my forehead with a kitchen towel. It would forget in a moment why it was there, what it was that drew it to that place. It would wander off in search of food again, live meat. I went to the basement, huddled in the corner, and read, pretending it was still Before, when little green men were just a joke and couldn’t eat you.
In the After Page 1
