“What’s so funny?” he asked, the hint of a smile on his lips, as if he already understood the joke.
“Nothing, really . . . I’m just . . .” I struggled. “I’m just happy to be here in New Hope. I’m feeling really optimistic.”
He studied me and scribbled in his notebook, a fake smile still plastered on his doughy face. “It’s good to be positive, especially after everything you’ve been through. New Hope must seem like it’s too good to be true.”
I nodded, but offered no response. I’d decided that the less I say the better.
“And what do you find the hardest about being in New Hope?” he prompted.
“Excuse me?”
“I hear you had an incident yesterday; Baby cut herself. . . .”
“She didn’t cut herself,” I clarified, sounding sharper than I’d intended. I cleared my throat nervously. “I just . . . it’s very loud here. It takes some time to get used to.”
He tapped his pen against the notebook paper absently, the odd smile never leaving his face. “So you would say the noise disturbs you the most?” He fixed me in his intense gaze. His dark eyes seemed to bore into my thoughts. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, unable to find a comfortable position.
“I didn’t say I was disturbed by the noise,” I answered carefully. “It’s just different here. There are a lot of sounds that we aren’t used to anymore.” I tried to sit still but I kept rubbing my hands together. Dr. Reynolds seemed to be observing this, so I moved my hands to the arms of the chair, trying not to hold on too tightly.
“You said we.”
“Sorry?”
“Just now, you said ‘sounds that we aren’t used to.’ Why did you say we instead of I?”
“Oh. I mean Baby. I’m used to thinking of us together. We’re hardly ever apart.”
“I see.” The loose flesh around his chin jiggled when he spoke and I had the urge to laugh again, which I hid by coughing loudly. He glanced down at his notebook, making a few notes. “Let’s talk more about Baby. You see yourself as her . . . friend? Parental figure? Protector?”
I did see myself as those things to Baby, and so much more, but I didn’t want to seem like I was overbearing. “I guess . . . I see myself as more of a sister to her.”
“And what does Baby mean to you in terms of sisterhood?”
I looked down at my hands. I was starting to wonder why he wanted to talk about Baby so much. I swallowed, trying to appear composed.
“I think about her before I think about myself . . . like whenever the creatures were close by. I want her to be safe.” I was rubbing my hands together again and had to clench my fists in order to stop.
“Can she not protect herself?” His tone was steady, like every word carried a double meaning.
I hated how frail my voice sounded in comparison. “Oh no, she can. Baby is amazing. She knows how to be quiet and when to hide. She’s been my rock, really. I think she kept me sane out there. Not that I was insane, I mean who wouldn’t be a little crazy, stuck with only Floraes for company.” I was rambling and my forehead was sweaty. I wiped my face on my sleeve, which I regretted when Dr. Reynolds immediately made a note on his paper.
“Was it distressing, to learn your mother was alive all these years?” He looked at me thoughtfully. “While you were ‘stuck,’ I believe is how you put it.”
“It’s . . . surprising. I wish I’d known sooner.” I bit my lip, uncertain if I should have said more. After a moment, I added, “Even if I wasn’t with her, wasn’t in New Hope, it would have been a relief to know she was alive.”
He waited for me to continue and when I didn’t, he asked, “What word, if you could choose only one, would you use to describe your reunion with your mother?” His pen poised at the ready, eager to judge my response.
“Only one? But there are so many.” Confusing. Frightening. Surreal. I stare at the ground, trying to think. “I guess, I would choose . . . fortunate.” I cringed inwardly. I should have chosen grateful or overjoyed. “We’re just so lucky to be here,” I kept on. “I mean I am. I’m lucky to be in New Hope.”
Dr. Reynolds studied me. His unwavering smile would be reassuring on some people. On him it just gave me the creeps. “I think we’ve chatted long enough, Amy.”
“Did I pass?”
He froze, and for the first time since we began talking, his phony smile had faded. “This isn’t a test. What gave you the idea that it was?”
“I . . . um . . . I just assumed.”
He stood to shake my hand, his palm clammy. “Maybe we should have another chat one day soon.”
“I’d like that,” I lied.
He opened the door leading to the waiting room, and my mother looked up from where she sat with Baby, searching my face.
“How did it go?” she asked, and I shrugged.
“Just fine,” Dr. Reynolds said from the doorway. I realized my mother was asking him, not me. “I’d like to see the child now.”
“I’ll have to translate,” I told them. I didn’t like the way he was staring at Baby, like she was a lab specimen.
“That won’t be necessary.” Dr. Reynolds motioned for Baby to step inside his office.
“But she doesn’t speak,” I explained, concerned. “And she barely understands spoken language.” My voice was loud, bordering on frantic. Dr. Reynolds and my mother exchanged a look.
There was a silent understanding in that glance, and my mother said, “Don’t worry, Amy, everyone has to have their psyche-eval.”
Baby looked to me. I tried to be strong. Go with this man. He’ll make loud speak at you. Be good.
Baby smiled and disappeared with Dr. Reynolds into his office, the door closing with a loud thump.
We sat and waited for Baby in silence. I didn’t feel like talking. After a while, my mother got a call on her earpiece. After a quick conversation regarding a corrupted computer file, she grabbed her computer bag. “I’m going to run this down to Richard in the lab. . . . You’ll be all right for five minutes on your own, won’t you?”
I looked around the waiting area, taking in nothing more threatening than empty chairs and a bored secretary behind the front desk. “Yeah, Mom, I’m great.”
She hugged me before she left, a reassuring squeeze that actually did make me feel better. Flipping through an old nature magazine, I wondered if Dr. Reynolds was really as phony as I thought he was, or if I was just projecting.
The secretary stood suddenly, which startled me.
“I’m just going to run to the restroom, hon,” she said, looking at me like I was an absolute freak. “Do you need to use the facilities?”
“Um, no. I’m good. Thanks.” I sat back down and pretended to read the tattered magazine.
As soon as she left the room, though, I felt like I might need a bathroom, if just to splash some water on my face. I hurried out the door, but barely managed to see the secretary disappear around a corner. I attempted to follow her but every hallway looked the same; I followed one corridor that led to another identical one. When I tried to backtrack, I got turned around.
“Crap,” I whispered. I was completely lost.
After a few long minutes, I heard voices down the hall and tried to follow the noise. Again, I turned the corner too late and saw a black door with a RESTRICTED sign closing slowly. I rushed forward and slipped inside just before it clicked shut. The hallway was empty. Where did those people go? I walked forward, my shoes echoing loudly on the hard floor. Out of habit I slipped them off and tied the laces together, draping them over my shoulder.
I slowly continued down the bright hallway. I didn’t know what I was doing; I just wanted to find my mother and go home.
I noticed the hallway wasn’t like the other ones. One side was lined with black doors, one of which those people must have disappeared through. The other wall had several windows. Curious, I stepped closer to the nearest window and peered through the glass. I looked into a small room, completely white except for a green
form against the far wall. The green splotch wasn’t part of the decor, though, and it began to move slowly across the room.
It took me a second to realize that I was looking at one of Them. I quickly threw myself against the opposite wall, my heart beating out of my chest. Why was the creature there? Breaking into a cold sweat, I realized that this must be where the Floraes were studied. This is where They were kept.
I slowed my breathing back to normal and gathered enough courage to approach the glass again. The creature shuffled unhurriedly, circling its confined space. It had no reason to do otherwise; it clearly could not sense that I was there, that food was near.
I walked slowly down the hall to look into the next room, where a Florae was feeding on a pig. Frenzied, it focused entirely on the task at hand: gore, slash, consume. The walls dripped with blood as the Florae ripped the pig to shreds, gnawing on its flesh.
I quickly moved to the next room. There, the window was oddly bright. The Florae inside didn’t shuffle mindlessly, but instead remained still in one place. It looked shrunken, as if its skin were too tight for its body. It was hugging itself, its mouth open in a scream of agony I couldn’t hear. Its skin was dry and flaking. I looked to the ceiling and saw that extra-bright lights bombarded the creature. UV?
Floraes loved the sun but something very bad was happening to this one. I wondered if there were ways to use this in a weapon, or if there were areas of the planet where they couldn’t survive. Fascinated, and heartened by the possibility, I moved on.
In the next room the creature shuffled, as it did in the first, but after a few seconds the floor lit up. The Florae trembled uncontrollably and fell, unable to remain upright. Writhing, its skin sparked where it was in contact with the floor. I’d seen enough Floraes wander into our electric fence to know what was happening. The creature was in agony, convulsing as electricity flowed through its body.
After a moment, the room was back to normal and the creature stood. Jerking slightly, it resumed its shuffle around the room. I waited until the floor lit up again, watching the Florae as it suffered, then resumed its behavior as if nothing had happened, unaware that it would soon again be in horrific pain. I had no idea how long I watched the cycle. It was mesmerizing.
“Amy?!”
I couldn’t stop staring at the creature sprawled on the floor again, twisting as it was electrocuted. How much could it take? Why didn’t it die?
“Amy. Amy! Look at me.” I broke my trance and turned to find my mother inches away. She grabbed ahold of my head, forcing my gaze on her, into her eyes. “Amy?”
I blinked hard. “Yes?”
She didn’t ask how I got in or what I was thinking. She simply steered me toward the door, quickly through the maze of hallways, and back into Dr. Reynolds’s waiting room.
“Oh, I was wondering where you got to,” the secretary said.
“I just took my daughter to get some air,” my mother told her. She sat me down. “Amy, put your shoes back on,” she instructed quietly.
I was still carrying them over my shoulder. I dropped them to the floor and slipped them on one at a time. My mother was the one who bent down, untying the laces from each other and retying them properly. After she sat back in her chair, I stared at the floor for a while, uncertain of what I should do.
“Mom . . .”
“We’ll talk about it later, Amy.” My mother smiled brightly at me as the door to Dr. Reynolds’s office opened. “And how was Baby?” she asked cheerfully.
“Are you okay?” Dr. Reynolds asked, looking at me.
“My . . . my stomach hurts,” I offered.
“Let’s get you home,” my mother said, helping me up from my chair. “It can take a while to get used to a normal diet.”
I reached over and took Baby’s hand, not wanting to let her go for even a second. As we walked, I debated telling Baby about the lab Floraes, but decided against it. I didn’t want to upset her. Still, I couldn’t get the image of the creature being electrocuted again and again out of my head. Tortured.
My mind focused back on Baby, her psyche-eval. What was it like? I asked as my mother led us from the building and back to the apartment.
I played with some toys. . . . He didn’t even loud speak at me.
Weird.
We had lunch at the apartment while my mother tried to explain the purpose of their experiments. “We need to test their pain threshold, their reaction time, their ability to withstand fire or electricity or . . .”
“I get it, Mom.” She didn’t need to justify the why of it. I was clearheaded again and more curious about what they’d found out from all their testing, what they’d learned about the Floraes. When I asked my mother, though, she was withholding.
“That is a conversation for another time,” she told me. She eyed me intensely. She was the one thing I could trust in this strange place but I knew she was also an integral part of it. She was my mother and the director, both. “And I know I probably don’t have to ask, but you know not to mention what happened earlier, right?”
“I won’t.” I didn’t want to get in trouble. Or get my mother into trouble, for that matter.
“Good. All right.” She exhaled. “Who wants a cookie?”
Baby raised her hand, excited. In two short days she’d learned to recognize her name, my name, and the all-important word cookie. As I watched her eat, I tried to push the visions of the Floraes from my mind. I’d thought, for a brief time, that I was free from Them. I knew then that even in New Hope, They would plague me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Baby appears at the foot of my bed. At first I think it’s a dream. They’ve increased my medication, and things are getting fuzzy again. The line between my daydreams and reality is blurred. It’s hard to keep everything straight. But then I see Dr. Reynolds has followed Baby. He pulls up a chair and watches as she jumps in bed to snuggle next to me.
She grabs my hand. Amy, I’ve missed you! Her face is bright and shining.
I’ve missed you too. I begin to cry.
“Amy, what’s wrong?” Dr. Reynolds asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” Dr. Reynolds now has a strange look on his face, almost a smirk.
I close my eyes. Are you happy crying? Baby asks. She must be signing into my hand but I swear I hear a child’s voice echoing her words. “Are you happy?”
I open my eyes and study her, hoping that I’m not just hallucinating. That she is real. Baby grins at me, and I glance at Dr. Reynolds. “That must be it,” I tell them slowly. “I’m crying because I’m so glad.” I don’t really know how I feel, other than disoriented.
I focus on Baby and sign, What about you? Are you happy?
She looks at me. Things are fan. I go to school and Rice comes to visit me all the time. We talk about you.
Rice? I suddenly get a flash of a boy’s face—cute, blue eyes, shaggy hair, glasses. He’d made me a promise to help me. You talk about me? About helping me? I sign, puzzled.
Baby shakes her head, then looks to Dr. Reynolds. “But he said he would help me,” I say, confused.
“Who said they would help you?” Dr. Reynolds asks sharply.
“I . . .” I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t even know if my memories are real. If only I weren’t so dull. I do know that Dr. Reynolds scares me. Real or imagined, I know I can’t tell him what Rice said. I look at him and mumble, “I think it’s my father. He sometimes talks to me in my dreams.”
“Your father is dead,” Dr. Reynolds tells me matter-of-factly. His tone cuts through me and I begin to cry again.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” I sob.
Dr. Reynolds looks at me with disdain as he turns to Baby.
“Perhaps we should leave Amy to recuperate.” He stands and approaches us.
“No!” I shout, taking rough hold of her arm. Dr. Reynolds glowers at me. “Can she just stay a little longer?” I beg.
“I think it’s best that we leave now,” Dr. Reynolds
tells me calmly. “Let go of her.”
I look at Baby. She is frightened and I regret grabbing her like that. Reluctantly I release her arm.
Sorry, Baby. I love you. I start to sob again and can barely see her through my tears. Before she leaves, I swear I hear a child’s voice this time saying, “I love you too.” But I know it’s just my imagination.
• • •
In that first week we were in New Hope, I barely left the apartment. I’d put off going to school for as long as I could but my mother decided we had to start. I thought we would have longer to adjust. I didn’t know if Baby was ready.
“All children in Class Two through Five attend school. It’s important that you follow procedure,” my mother told me. There was no arguing.
After she left for work, I stood in front of the mirror, noticing again how unflattering my jumpsuit was. I touched my hair, fiddling with the short Mohawk for a few minutes before giving up. Resigned, I made sure Baby was dressed and combed her hair. I made her put her shoes on, even though she’d rather just lug them around all day.
Rice had let himself in and was sitting patiently on the couch, waiting for us to emerge so he could walk us to school. “We’re ready,” I proclaimed, stepping into the room.
I must have looked uneasy because Rice walked over to me and gave me a half hug. “You’ll do fine.”
I took a deep breath and nodded as we headed out the door and down the stairs. I was still worried, but I appreciated his effort to comfort us. Soon we were outside the school building.
Rice smiled reassuringly. “Go find an adult; they’ll know where you both should be. I’ll meet you right back here after school at four. Your mother wanted you both to go to the normal orientation that most post-aps attend. . . . She thought it would help you get a handle on New Hope and she wants to see what you think about the material.”
In the After Page 14
