In the Afterlight (Bonus Content)

by Alexandra Bracken

  “The others will never agree to it,” Cole said quietly, but he didn’t disagree. He didn’t want to stop me.

  “I know,” I said. “That’s why we aren’t going to tell them until we have to.”

  Over the next week, the face of the Ranch seemed to change.

  Kylie and the other driver who had gone out looking for tribes returned victorious, even as Liam set out to find Olivia twice and came back empty-handed both times. If he was frustrated by the wasted time and gas, he didn’t show it—a part of me wondered if he used the time to get away from all of this for a few hours, taking Lovely Rita in the direction of the rising sun and returning in time for the sun to set.

  The new recruits were willing enough; the group of five Blues that had come back—Isabelle, Maria, Adam, Colin, and Gav—had all served on East River’s watch and, in theory, knew how to use weapons. The issue was, after months spent in the wilds of Utah looking like they’d survived a meteor apocalypse, they only took orders from Gav—who didn’t particularly enjoy taking orders from anyone, least of all an “adult shithead” like Cole. He complained about the cramped sleeping conditions, the plain, basic food we ate, the smell of the shampoo—like he was some kind of connoisseur of floral notes in fragrance. Gav was stocky, had a ruddy complexion, and seemed mean enough to want to fight, but only if we begged him.

  The Saga of Gav the Asshole ended when Cole hauled him up by the arm from dinner, dragged him into the shooting range, and locked the door behind them. Five minutes and a muffled gunshot later, Gav came out a team player, and Cole looking far less like he wanted to set the kid’s hair on fire.

  The other tribe was a group of Greens, who spent days circling the various computers that the resident Greens now seemed chained to night and day, if only to keep the new hands from tampering with their settings. Only one of the girls, Mila, offered to join the tactical team, but I had to work with her each morning to get her to understand what each hand signal meant so she’d be able to follow my commands.

  The third group that arrived, two days after Mila’s, found us. And we knew them.

  Nico had spotted the three teens looking around Smiley’s, clearly drawn to the crescent moon that we’d painted on the now-defunct bar’s door. Kylie and Liam had all but run for the tunnel door to greet them. It wasn’t until I saw their interaction on the computer screen, the way Liam pounded the back of one of the guys with shaggy dark hair and tan skin, that I recognized him.

  “Friends of yours?” Cole asked, coming out of the office as the five them came up through the tunnel laughing, practically talking over each other to get answers.

  “You remember Mike,” Liam said, gesturing to the kid in the Cubs baseball hat. He was thinner than I remembered—a good ten pounds lighter from stress and the strain of the road, likely—but I knew him by the wary look he cast in my direction. The kid gave me a stiff nod, then turned to accept a bear hug from Lucy.

  Cole let out a faint whistle at that. “Not a fan of yours, I take it.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” I assured him. Mike hadn’t liked me or trusted me, and had never really wanted to take the blindfold off his eyes about Clancy.

  “That’s Ollie and Gonzo over there, they’re brothers,” Liam continued, pointing to the two teens standing off to the side. One—Gonzo, I think—had his hand on a makeshift knife made out of a glass shard, a stick, and fabric. “They were on watch with me. You guys hungry? I think dinner should just about be ready.…”

  I caught his arm before he led the group away. “You can’t tell them about Clancy.”

  “I already did,” he told me in a thin voice. “And they don’t care as long as he stays locked up.”

  “If they try to find him—”

  “They won’t,” Liam said, pulling his arm away. “They’re not here for him.”

  I wanted to ask him what, exactly, he meant by that, but he was already gone, jogging to catch up to the others. Zu, who’d been idling nearby in the hall, had come to stand beside me, looking up at me in question.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I promised her. Because we didn’t have time. I didn’t have time to think about Liam, let alone constantly seek him out in the garage where he kept to himself.

  The morning after the Greens perfected the cameras embedded in the glasses, two and a half weeks before March first, Kylie and drove Tommy and Pat out of California. They wound their way down surface streets and access roads until they reached Elko, Nevada, the closest town to Oasis that was more than a few houses baking in the desert sun. The boys spent the next few days hanging out at the fringes of town, appearing, disappearing, causing just enough suspicion for some money-hungry soul to call them in for a reward. There was a close call, during which it seemed like the PSFs who collected them were going to take them out of state, up to the camp in Wyoming, but they changed course at the last moment.

  Their glasses captured everything. We had a front row seat as the kids were driven up through the desert, as they were processed into Oasis, as they walked through the hallways with their many doors, as they were brought into their rooms, as the PSFs roughed them up a little to show off, slapping Tommy hard enough to knock the glasses off his face. We charted meal times, lights out, rotations, and compared the personnel lists on the PSF network to the faces we saw.

  After one day, we’d already seen the entirety of the premises. The camp was a two-story building, shrouded from outside eyes by a tall electric fence and canopied tarps, both to keep out the sun and to block any views of the yard from above.

  We knew that the weekly supplies came at four-thirty every Friday morning. The loud engines and tires chewing gravel and dirt announced their arrival.

  “The batteries in the cameras will run out soon,” Nico warned.

  “Is everything saved and downloaded somewhere?” Liam asked, standing behind him, next to a clearly impressed Senator Cruz.

  Nico turned around in his chair. “Yeah, but why?”

  Liam glanced toward the floor. “In case we need to refer back to it when we figure out planning and timing.”

  “There’s nothing left to do, then,” Cole said, “but practice. And wait.”

  Four days of waiting.

  Four days of basic self-defense training.

  Four days of reminding the kids to keep the safety catch on the guns until they were ready to fire, to brace themselves when they needed to, and to use their abilities before they’d think about firing.

  And now, day three of the run-through. The first day had been simple enough—most of the kids in this group, the East River kids at least, had experienced overpowering a large truck in a highway setting. They’d had to do it any number of times to steal supplies and food. The trick was reminding them repeatedly that they couldn’t destroy the truck in the process.

  I adjusted the strap on my tactical helmet, tightening until I felt it dig into the soft skin beneath my jaw as I crouched down, breathing in the clean, cool February air. It was my first time outside in what felt like a month, and we’d only been allowed to position ourselves outside of the garage’s loading dock door.

  It had taken us nearly half a day to clear out space in the garage, temporarily moving the cars, Liam’s bike, and the bigger pieces of furniture and crates outside. I saw him lean back, as if checking to make sure they were all still on the other side of the building where we’d left them. I’d had a hard time putting a finger on his mood today. It seemed to shift by the minute.

  The kids behind me were a cluster of disordered black fatigues. Each piece had been found, collected, and pulled by Liam and others running the supplies specifically because they were close to the fatigues worn by the PSFs. The look was pulled together with the assault rifles in their hands. Everyone had spent hours of the last three days in the makeshift shooting range we’d set up. The rapid firing of the bullets had steeled my nerves more than I’d expected; lacing up black combat boots, adjusting holsters and utility belts, had made me feel like I was s
tepping back into a shell I’d abandoned when I’d split with the League. It was a good fit—steadying, at least. I felt my feet fixed firmly to the ground with the added weight of the necessities of combat.

  Liam put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself as he adjusted the strap on his rifle, and for the tenth time today I felt my chest tighten, my hands clench around my own gun. To think I’d believed being in the Children’s League would destroy him, ruin every good part of him. The only person dragging him into this firefight was me.

  “Begin!”

  We came at the door in a rush of overeager energy, pouring through the opening. I felt the lick of adrenaline against my heart, counting off the timing in my head. The two Blues in front of me, Josh and Sarah, raised their rifle sights to their eyes and stepped into the makeshift hallway we’d constructed out of pallets, simulating the layout of the lower-level hall we’d seen. They swept their hands out toward Zu and Hina, who were pretending to be the PSFs posted at either end of the hall standing guard, and the girls made a dramatic show of pretending they were thrown back. Liam actually laughed behind me, which set my teeth on edge.

  “Stop!” Cole called from his perch atop one of the ladders. “Girls! You have to take this seriously, otherwise I’m subbing you out. There’s not enough time for us to be dicking around, not when it could mean this team not getting their timing down. Got it?”

  Zu and Hina wilted at his sharp words, but nodded.

  “Go from the top,” Cole said. “Everyone reset—but this time, Liam, switch places with Zach—yeah, you’ll be behind Ruby. Lucy, hop out—you too, Mila. Sorry, ladies. You’re not right for this Op. I want Gonzo and Ollie to take their place.”

  Liam opened his mouth but caught himself. I gave him a quick nod, letting him know it was all right. Cole had been making these switches and substitutions for the past two days, trying to get the best chemistry in the group. We were getting there, but the birthing process had been painful and I was feeling each day passing like a strike to the back of the head.

  I would have given anything for Vida to be here next to me. I checked in with Nico every single day to see if he’d gotten another status update from them, but the last contact they’d made had been to let us know they had safely arrived in Kansas.

  “Begin!” And the dance started all over again.

  We moved into the garage two at a time—Gav, at my left, grunted as he dropped down to his knee. He pretended to cover Josh and Sarah, as they pretended to zip-tie Zu’s and Hina’s hands and feet.

  “Remember,” Cole was shouting, his hands cupped around his mouth, “the point is to be as silent and fast as possible. Do not fire unless your life depends on it. Get the PSFs down silently so they can’t alert the camp controllers!”

  Zach and I bolted forward, him covering me as I ducked into a gap between two pallets meant to represent the Control Room. I reached a hand out toward Lucy, who was now posing as the camp controller at the helm of the camp’s security. She took a generous step back, her eyes widening in what I thought was real alarm. My stomach clenched.

  Zach went through the motions of restraining the other kid posing as a camp controller. Then we were at the back of the pack, joining the others as they hit the other end of the hall, and we mimed going up a flight of stairs. Liam said something under his breath that made Mike, Gonzo, Ollie, and Sarah burst into laughter.

  “Stop!” Cole called. “Lee, you’re out. You too, Mike.”

  Liam swung around, a look of total disbelief on his face. “Excuse me?”

  “You,” Cole repeated slowly, as if Liam’s hearing had been the problem, “are out.”

  “What the hell for?” Liam spun toward me, gesturing with his hands, asking me for something I had no intention of giving him. The minute the words had left Cole’s lips, relief had flooded my system. Liam’s expression changed abruptly, darkening as he shook his head and twisted back around in the direction of his brother.

  “Why? I’ve done everything you asked—both me and Mike have experience hitting trucks. So why?”

  The kids around us began to shuffle their feet and look away, the tension swiftly moving from awkward to painful.

  “Because,” Cole said, jumping down from the ladder, “I decided twelve is too many—you guys are practically tripping over each other. We need to be in and out faster and quieter. If you take this personally, you’re an idiot.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Liam said, his hands on his hips. “You just want me out of this.”

  “Well, your attitude isn’t doing you any favors either, baby brother,” he said, holding out his hand. “Your helmet and gun. You go cool off somewhere. Mike, I need you as another PSF—third door on the right, yes, you got it—”

  Liam ripped the gun strap off his shoulder, pushing it into his brother’s chest, and unbuckled the helmet, letting it fall to the floor. He turned on his heel and strode toward the garage’s tunnel door, his body rigid with stiff, furious lines.

  I held up one finger to Cole, not waiting to get a negative response from him, and followed Liam out. He was already a good ten feet into the tunnel before I caught sight of him and called, “Hey!”

  He stopped, but didn’t turn around. I unclipped my own helmet and approached slowly, recognizing the red staining the back of his neck, the way his hands were clenched into fists—the veins stood out in his forearms, he had such a tight grip.

  “Liam,” I said softly. “Look at me.”

  “What?” he said, plucking at his fatigues. “Did you need me to hand over these, too?”

  “I want you to calm down,” I said. “I’m sorry—but you know it has to be this way.”

  “And which way is that?” he asked. “The one where you stand there silently and let me get dismissed like a kid being sent to time-out?”

  I let out a sound of frustration. “We have to listen to him. There has to be some kind of order here—structure. Otherwise this whole thing will fall apart.”

  Liam stared at me, disbelief fading into a humorless smile. “I get it,” he said as he started walking again. “Believe me, Ruby, I get it.”

  By the time we filed back into the Ranch six hours later, he was long gone. Zu was waiting for me in the bunk room, a folded piece of paper clutched in her hands. She watched me as I read it, her eyes making my heart ache.

  Finding Liv. Good luck.

  I wasn’t upset. I was furious.

  “He left without taking any kind of backup—again,” I said, pulling my shirt up over my head and kicking off my fatigues. Zu had already changed into the oversized shirt and boxers she slept in. “Didn’t he?”

  She nodded, then held up her notebook with the message, What’s going on? She flipped the page. Why are you acting like idiots?

  “Did Chubs tell you to ask me that?”

  Zu went back to the first page, underlining the first question twice. What’s going on?

  “Just a disagreement,” I assured her, the little lie already gnawing at me. I pulled the worn shirt and sweats on and sat down next to her on my bunk. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

  I lay down on my back and she followed suit. I was grateful for the warmth of her next to me, her presence, which always seemed to sweeten sour situations. I’d spent the rest of the simulation feeling like someone was walking over my grave. I still couldn’t shake the feeling.

  She picked up her pen and notebook again and wrote, Are you okay?

  “I’ve been better,” I admitted.

  You keep going to your bad place, she added. I have one, too. I get trapped there if I stay too long.

  I shifted so I could wrap an arm around her shoulders and draw her in closer.

  You don’t have to go there alone. She paused, as if collecting her thoughts. Do you remember, right before I left East River, I said I had something to tell you, but I didn’t know how?

  “I do.” Thinking about that day was like raking nails down over my heart.

  It wasn’t re
ally that I didn’t know how—I wanted the words to be better. More beautiful, I guess. But Lee told me it doesn’t matter, sometimes simplest is best. She turned the page, scribbling the words down quickly. The sound of the pen against the paper was strangely soothing. It doesn’t matter what you do, it won’t ever change how we feel about you. I’m proud to be your friend.

  I stared at her, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Thank you. I feel the same way about you. The luckiest day of my life was when I met you. You saw how scared I was—”

  It wasn’t because you were scared, Zu wrote, then added quickly, maybe a little, but do you know how I knew we could trust you?

  I shook my head, fascinated by this insight into her judgment.

  When the people following you, looking for you, started to get really close, you were going to run again, not hide behind Betty. It was because you didn’t want them to accidentally find me either, right?

  “That’s right.”

  She put out her hands as if to say, well, there you go. She picked up her pen again. That meant you were never going to purposefully put us in danger. That you were a good person.

  “That’s an awfully big assumption,” I said. “It could have just been me panicking, not thinking at all.”

  Zu gave a little shrug. Better to risk helping someone than regret what you could have done. Lee said that.

  “That sounds like him,” I said dryly. And that was the exact reason Chubs and I had to be so vigilant about every new kid we crossed paths with.

  Are you and Lee fighting about the memory thing?

  Ah. So he or one of the others had told her.

  “Not exactly.” But then, what were we doing, exactly? Not being friends to each other. Not being whatever it was we had been. “It’s complicated. After what I did to him, it’s been nothing but complicated. And I accept full responsibility, but…”

  Zu, as always, zeroed in on the root of the situation. Do you think he doesn’t forgive you?