The Last Girl

by Joe Hart

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Miss Gwen.”

  “I’m sorry to see so few of you here today. Punishment is an ugly, but necessary, aspect of our lives. If the balance of the world were not so precarious, there might only be warnings for such transgressions. But alas, it is.”

  The speech sounds scripted. Zoey wonders who gave her the orders to write it.

  “To renew humanity; what a purpose,” Miss Gwen says, looking at each of them, a glaze of awe on her face. “To give birth to a new generation and drive away the shadows of extinction—what better cause do we have? We must coexist and work together for the greater good. Our differences must be put aside, our conflicts cast away.” She stares solely at Zoey as she says this. “There is no one person more important than the fate of our species. We would all do well to remember that.” Zoey holds her gaze until the instructor finally gives her a cold smile and turns away, saying over her shoulder, “Rise and recite the creed.”

  The women do as they are told. “We are of the greater good. We live for the chance to rebuild the world that is no longer. We are one in our knowledge and stand steady before the challenges that face us. We give thanks for our shelter and for the guidance of the Director. We will not stray from the path.”

  Zoey can barely finish the words with the dry, sour taste in her mouth. They continue to stand and chant the rules together and when they are done, Miss Gwen nods approvingly.

  “Take out your texts and turn to page three hundred forty-four, please.”

  Zoey knows what part of the book this is before she even opens the cover. She finds the correct page and stares at the chapter title. The Fall.

  “Zoey, will you read please?” Miss Gwen says.

  Lily claps her hands and laughs. “Ya Zee, ree!”

  “Quiet, Lily!” Miss Gwen nearly yells. Zoey jumps in her seat, shocked at the volume of the instructor’s voice. Lily’s smile vanishes and she cowers, flapping her fingers before her eyes. Zoey grits her teeth until they feel as if they’ll shatter. Blood pounds in her ears. Her hands shake.

  “Zoey? You may begin,” Miss Gwen intones.

  Zoey takes a breath and starts to read.

  “In late two thousand eighteen, the patches of rebel factions that had skirmished with U.S. forces several times over the year unified and declared open war on the United States Government. Due to mass panic and the spread of propaganda concerning NOA’s research, the factions grew until they numbered in the hundreds of thousands. Despite their advanced weaponry, the government forces that were deployed to help keep order were outnumbered three to one. They took heavy casualties as many of the battles were fought in urban settings that played to the rebels’ advantage. At first President Andrews ordered only nonlethal measures be used, but when an entire battalion of Marines was overrun in the suburbs of Chicago, he had no choice but to employ air strikes as well as live rounds in all weapons.

  “The war raged on for three years. Society as a whole was disrupted, and soon the entirety of the country fell into chaos. Schools were closed, as were most businesses. Families attempted to leave the war-torn country, and many refugees were executed by neighboring governments when they tried to cross borders of Canada and Mexico (see chapter forty-three, index nine for more information).

  “In early two thousand twenty-one, the virus known as T1F3, which caused ‘The Dearth,’ became lethal to humans. It spread quickly and killed millions within several months. At this time, President Andrews and his cabinet, headed by Speaker of the House Steven Richton, were stationed in a remote, secure location outside Washington, D.C. It is estimated that only six members of the House of Representatives and two members of the Senate were present with him behind the most well-defended lines of government forces, the rest of the members of those governing bodies having either deserted or disappeared over the years of tumult.

  “On the evening of April twelfth, two thousand twenty-one, an atomic device was detonated by rebel forces within the boundaries of the President’s location. Though the bomb was believed to be of rudimentary construction and one-third the strength of those dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki during the Second World War, its blast killed over eight thousand government troops along with three hundred women and children being harbored there from rebel forces. The President and the Speaker of the House were killed in the blast, as well as General Franklin Harris, the supreme commander of the armed forces.

  “This assassination succeeded in ending the war and caused mass desertion by the remaining U.S. military. It has been called ‘the most cowardly act by American citizens since the murder of John F. Kennedy’ by Dr. Howard Messing, the original leading scientist for the National Obstetric Alliance. Dr. Messing was later killed in a skirmish outside Denver when his caravan was ambushed by rebels.”

  Zoey stops reading at the end of the last paragraph and looks up at Miss Gwen, who is nodding.

  “Thank you, Zoey.” Miss Gwen stands, holding her hands out before her as if in supplication. “Do you see now what happens when individuals either can’t see or plainly ignore the larger picture? Our great nation was toppled by a few people—no, that’s not right—a few cowards, who decided the leader of the country should no longer live.” Her face grows grave. “President Andrews helped initiate NOA’s work in researching why the virus affected the female birthrate, and subsequently why it became deadly years later. He was a great man and died serving his country. We are beyond fortunate to have the life we do now within the safety of these walls. We are fortunate to have protection, and food, and the guidance of the Director—whose vision for the future, in my opinion, rivals the President’s own.”

  Miss Gwen’s cheeks are aglow with the fervor of her speech. She looks beseechingly at them and Zoey can only stare back. Something is rising within her mind, tugging at the weavings of an idea that is still indefinite. Someone speaks, and Meeka coughs loudly, bringing her back to the present. Meeka motions with her eyes to the front of the room where Miss Gwen waits.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Gwen. What was the question?” Zoey says.

  The instructor huffs impatiently. “Zoey, you will sit facing the corner of the room if you cannot hold attention in lecture from now on. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. I asked, what does it mean to you to know that others sacrificed themselves for the greater good, and in turn, your life?”

  Zoey hesitates only a moment. “Everything, ma’am. Everything.”

  Lecture ends, and they return to the cafeteria for lunch. Meeka tries to engage her in conversation, mocking Miss Gwen, but Zoey is lost in thought. The sounds fade around her, the smells, even the walls become hazy and insubstantial. She eats robotically, shoving the food in even as her stomach revolts. She feeds Lily her lunch, which is soup today, a difficult thing for the girl to eat.

  When the chime rings, they leave for their afternoon work stations. Zoey walks beside Lily, holding her hand as they move down the stairways to the lowest level. As they turn on the last landing and head down the final set of treads, she sees Crispin striding through the security door. He spots them and waits to let them pass, his smile shining bright against his dark skin.

  “Well, hello, how are we today?” he says. Lily waves and laughs, jerking on the third step from the bottom. Her sudden movement throws Zoey’s balance off. She tries to catch herself but the battered muscles in her abdomen shriek their protest and she misses the handrail by inches.

  Zoey falls, letting go of Lily as she does.

  Simon yells something.

  She’s going to break her neck.

  As the hard edges of the stairs come up to meet her, Crispin steps forward. His hands snag her wrists and pull her up just as she’s about to slam into the concrete.

  “Whoa! You all right?” he says, standing her back on her feet. Her stomach throbs with exertion.

  “Yes,” she manages. “Sorry, I tripped.”

  “Looks like you kept li
ttle Lily here from falling,” Crispin says. “And no need to be sorry. Accidents happen, am I right?”

  “Yes.” She smiles at him. He is the only guard in the ARC who acknowledges her presence outside of giving orders. Besides Dellert, that is. But the younger guard’s body language and unsaid words in his looks are something predatory, so unlike Crispin’s.

  “Thank you, Crispin,” Simon says, putting a hand on Zoey’s arm. “Glad you were there at the right time.”

  “Me too, me too. You all have a nice afternoon, okay?”

  “We will,” Simon says.

  “Thank you,” Zoey calls after him as he climbs the stairs. He nods, shooting her a last smile that breaks apart before he looks away. There is something sorrowful in Crispin that she catches glimpses of from time to time, like a cloud crossing the sun.

  “Bye!” Lily yells and laughs at how her voice echoes in the stairwell.

  “Come on,” her Cleric says, guiding them toward the security door.

  As they pass through into the next corridor, a worker wearing the customary yellow jumpsuit steps in from the outside. He moves quickly toward them, glancing at the exercise facility as he walks.

  “You, Clerics, I need your help. There’s a relay box inside mechanical I need assistance moving,” he says. The worker stops several steps away and points at the closest door.

  “That’s not our assignment,” Simon replies. “Find another worker.”

  “They’re all over at the . . .” The worker’s eyes find Zoey and Lily. “. . . outside. This needs to be done now, I don’t have time to go up to level two and find someone.”

  Simon shares a glance with Steven before turning back to the worker. “Five minutes.”

  “That’s all it will take,” the worker says, unlocking the mechanical room door.

  The sound emerges like a beast from within. Heavy pounding and a high, incessant squealing. They file inside the massive room, and Zoey is struck again by how large the area is.

  Ahead of them are rounded encasements, reaching almost to the fifteen-foot ceilings that hum with electrical power, their shapes like slumbering animals in the low light. To the right is a wide corridor lined with pipes and branching electric cables. On the left is a row of benches and storage units. Racks of various tools and yellow jumpsuits hang among the shadows.

  The worker hands out foam earplugs, and Zoey helps Lily put hers in after prying her hands from the sides of her head. There is a four-foot steel box resting on the floor, with looping wire and several large handles protruding from its side. The worker points to it before motioning to somewhere in the rear of the room. The three men nod at one another before Simon glances in Zoey’s direction. He points to her and Lily before jabbing a finger at the floor. Stay here, don’t move. Zoey gives him a quick bob of her head.

  The men bend at the knees, grasping the box’s handles before lifting. Simon is very strong, but Zoey sees his back quiver with exertion as he stands. The other Cleric’s face turns a bright shade of red, and spittle appears between his lips as the three men begin walking, disappearing behind one of the encasements in a slow procession of shuffling steps.

  As soon as they’re out of sight, Zoey turns and examines the door. It is the same as any other in the building. The scanner near the handle glows red, and even though she knows it’s futile, she swipes her bracelet across it.

  The red eye remains unblinking in the gloom.

  Lily takes a step forward, looking at the dusty floor. She wipes the toe of her shoe through the grime, making a narrow, sweeping line. Zoey can’t hear it, but sees Lily laugh before kneeling to draw in the filth. As gently as she can, Zoey brings her to her feet. There’s a confused look on the girl’s face. Zoey shakes her head and as she tries to figure out how to convey that it’s not okay to play in the dirt, she spots a flash of movement to their left.

  Zoey turns and stares where she saw it. She waits, holding tight to Lily’s arm as the girl stretches toward the floor. There it is again—a shifting of gray between two of the cabinets, barely enough to see it is some sort of fabric moving. Lily tugs again, but Zoey straightens her up and holds her face still, shaking her own head from side to side. Lily says something that’s lost in the cacophony of the room. When Zoey looks at the spot between the cabinets again, she spies a flash of pale flesh, there and gone.

  There is no sign of the men and Zoey strains to the right, assuring that they aren’t returning before leading Lily away from the door. Her shoes want to slide on the detritus covering the floor. They pass the long line of worker jumpsuits on pegs, most of them with long tears or scorched holes dotting their lengths. Zoey imagines one of the empty sleeves snapping out to wrap around her arm and takes a step away from them.

  They make their way past the workbenches and come even with the cabinets. Zoey leads Lily down the closest row, stopping at the small gap between two of the tallest units. Her heart hammers as she leans to the side and peers between the metal lockers with one eye.

  Beyond the cabinets is a short, clear area followed by stacks of boxes and rolls of wire. A heavy rope is coiled below another long bench, and two pieces of humming machinery block a portion of her view. She stands on tiptoe, pulling herself close to the cabinet, her eyes widening in the shadows.

  Miss Gwen sits on the end of the long bench, and Zoey sees that it was the hem of the instructor’s skirt and the white flesh of her leg that she saw from the doorway. Her dress is drawn up high over her thighs, and a guard stands before her, his hips thrusting in constant motion. It takes a split second for Zoey to see that his pants are crumpled at his ankles. Miss Gwen is reclined on the bench, her fingers laced around the back of the guard’s neck, her mouth open in a jaw-cracking yawn. Her eyes are clenched shut, and even with the lack of light, Zoey can see beads of sweat running down the instructor’s throat into her neckline.

  Zoey blinks as a sickening weight plummets from her throat to the bottom of her stomach. She knows what this is, but the immensity of it flat-lines her thoughts. Lily tugs at her arm, bringing her back from the unreal sight beyond the cabinets. When she pulls her face away from the small gap, she sees Lily gesturing toward the door.

  Between two of the enclosures there is the flare of yellow.

  Zoey drags Lily back the way they came, nearly tripping over a wrench at the end of the aisle. She half runs to the door, weaving past the ruined jumpsuits before skidding to a stop in front of the entrance. A heartbeat later, Simon rounds the corner and stops in front of her. His eyes narrow. Zoey gives him a quick smile. We’ve been here the whole time, don’t worry about us! The worker sidles past Simon’s shoulder and moves to the door, scanning his bracelet. They file out into the hallway, removing their earplugs. Zoey takes Lily’s earplugs out for her.

  The air is blessedly cool compared to the mechanical room, and the slight scorched smell recedes as the door falls shut behind them.

  “Thank you,” the worker says, moving toward the outside door. “I appreciate the help.”

  “You’re welcome,” Simon replies. He holds out his hand to Zoey, and she drops the four earplugs into his palm. He studies her face, running his eyes over her as if he can see the image of Miss Gwen and the guard that’s playing on a loop within her mind. “Let’s get to work,” he says after a long pause.

  After checking to be sure the laundry is empty, Simon leaves them to their shift. They load the washing machine and set it in motion. The rhythmic chugging only aids in bringing Zoey back to the mechanical room.

  Procreation. That’s what they’d been doing. There were other words for it in the NOA textbook, but procreation is as close as the tome had ever gotten to describing it in terms of humans. Animals mated, or reproduced, and humans procreated. It had always seemed like such a cold and mechanized term for speaking of new life. And what Miss Gwen and the guard had been doing didn’t seem cold or robotic whatsoever. The instructor had not only allowed the act, but she had seemed to be enjoying it.

  The p
roblem was, it was forbidden.

  No one had ever said so much aloud, but it was abundantly clear. Males and females were not to spend time together alone. That was why Lee’s appearance inside her room startled her so much. It was an offense punishable by death. But until that point, she had never considered Miss Gwen among the restricted. Besides being the only other woman outside of the younger group, she was a creature of authority, almost more so than some of the guards. Zoey had never wondered if the woman was also governed by the same set of rules they all were.

  It was Miss Gwen who had explained roughly what was happening years ago when, inexplicably and in silent horror, Zoey had begun to bleed during a morning shower. She had been almost too embarrassed to tell Simon, but the fear had finally won out and she had whispered it to him after padding her underwear with folded toilet paper. He had nodded, quickly leading her to Miss Gwen’s quarters and then standing outside the door while the instructor spoke to Zoey. The entire conversation had been confusing and surreal. Inside her was life waiting to be born? Eggs? The possibility of rebuilding the human race if only she could give birth to a girl.

  It was almost too much to comprehend.

  And though Miss Gwen had been fairly patient with Zoey’s questions, while still cagey when Zoey asked about certain things, there had been an air of coldness and detachment, possibly even resentment, in the instructor’s eyes. Zoey had left the room with a handful of cylindrical objects, a vague understanding of what she was supposed to do with them, and a new monthly scheduled checkup at the infirmary. Afterward she had felt adrift and more alone than ever before. The sensation that she had done something wrong followed her like an awful miasma for weeks until Meeka revealed that the same thing had happened to her.