The Life Beyond (The Other Life Saga)

by Susanne Winnacker

  Dad stepped back from the tree. “You can get started.”

  Bobby and I jumped up and rushed toward the fir. It towered above us, giving off a scent of forest and winter. I pinned baubles on its branches while Bobby was busy looping tinsel all over it.

  We both reached for the porcelain angel that belonged on the top. “It’s my turn,” I said.

  “No, you promised I could do it.”

  I pinched him and he boxed me.

  Dad stepped between us and took the angel. “I think this year it’s Mia’s turn.”

  I dropped my arms to my sides and watched as Mia grabbed the figurine with her small hands. She had a huge grin on her face when she put it on the tree with Dad’s help. Somehow I didn’t mind that I had to watch.

  Chapter 16

  Blood had started gushing out of the wound in Dad’s stomach. I crawled through the gap between the front seats and squeezed next to Dad. I tore off the bottom of my shirt and pressed it against the gash, trying to staunch the blood flow but it was useless.

  A shot in the stomach. Without treatment I knew what that meant.

  I brushed back the fur and matted hair from his face. He didn’t move. My fingers shook as I pressed them against his throat. His pulse was a soft thumping.

  “How’s he doing?”

  I glanced up, tears clinging to my lashes. “He’s getting weaker.”

  “Try to press harder,” Joshua said.

  I did, the warm blood trickling over my fingers. My jeans and the fabric of the seat were soaked with it. Then, Dad’s chest stopped heaving.

  I clutched at him, shook him.

  Nothing.

  Not a flutter of his lashes, not a rise of his chest.

  My fingers prodded his throat. No pulse.

  I pressed my lips against his and pushed air into his lungs. Secretion and shedded skin stuck to my cheeks. Resting my hands over his chest, I pressed twice. Then another push of air.

  Again and again.

  “Sherry?”

  My lungs burned, my hands ached. I kept going.

  “Sherry, stop it.”

  Sweat dripped into my eyes and fell on Dad’s face as I breathed air into his mouth again. The car stopped. My palms jammed against Dad’s chest. Once. Twice. I leaned over his face but Joshua’s hands grasped my arms, pulling me back.

  “No!”

  His fingers dug into my skin. I lashed out, shoving him away, before crouching back over Dad. But as unrelenting as before, a hand snatched my shoulder and yanked me out. I tumbled out of the car and landed on my back. Fire snaked under my skin. I sat up but something pushed me back.

  “Sherry?”

  I struggled.

  “Sherry, calm down. Please.”

  Joshua’s face hovered above me. Pale and worried.

  “Dad. He needs me,” I whispered.

  Pity flickered in his eyes. “Sherry, he’s —”

  “No!” I clawed at his arms. “Let me go!”

  He held me. “It’s too late.”

  I sagged against the ground, gasping and hiccuping. I couldn’t breathe.

  “I’m sorry, Sherry,” said Joshua.

  We pulled up in front of the mission, honking the horn. The door of the main building opened. Mom and Karen ran out, but I couldn’t face them. My hands lay in my lap. Blood had dried on them, tingeing my skin rusty-red.

  Mom tore open the door. She looked at my face and then at the backseat where Dad’s body lay. She let out a sob. Holding onto the door, she sank to the ground in front of me, her yellow dress spreading like a halo in the dirt. Tears streamed down her face and she kept shaking her head as if that could make it undone, as if that could bring Dad back. But nothing could.

  Joshua put his hands under Mom’s arms and pulled her to her feet. She didn’t resist. The hem of her dress was smudged with earth.

  I lifted my legs out of the car. Stood. Closed the door.

  Numbness. It filled me, cloaked me.

  I stepped into the gloom of the church and sank down on one of the pews.

  Tears gathered in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. It felt like someone was clawing open my chest and leaving it hollow. I just wanted it gone – all the pain, all the grief.

  A creak split the silence and light penetrated the darkness. Joshua entered, his eyes searching the room until they settled on me. He paused for a moment before he closed the door behind him and took a seat beside me. He held me gently. “Come on, Sherry. Karen should take a look at your injuries.”

  I stared at the figure of Jesus high above the altar. “Please, leave.”

  “Sherry,” Joshua’s voice was soft. “Remember how you told me that I don’t have to deal with things alone? You were right. We are in this together. You don’t have to go through your sadness alone.” He cupped my cheeks and forced me to look at him, compassion brimming in his eyes.

  I dropped my gaze to his chin. “I know. But this is different. I killed my dad.”

  His finger pushed my face up. “Sherry, please, listen to me. The Weeper you killed, that wasn’t your Dad. Your Dad was long gone, buried somewhere deep inside. That Weeper would have killed you. Your dad would never have done that. There was nothing you could’ve done. You didn’t even aim to kill. It was an accident. Even while you were fighting for your life, you didn’t want to shoot him.”

  I fought against his grip on my face and tried to get away, but his hands didn’t loosen. “It was still my dad. You said it — he was still in there somewhere. We had the cure to get him back! Because of me he’s gone forever.” My voice cracked.

  Joshua pulled me against him, my arms pressed against his chest, so I couldn’t use them to struggle. “Do you think your dad could’ve lived with himself if he’d hurt you? Don’t you think he would’ve sacrificed himself? He would’ve wanted you to kill him in that situation. Don’t you understand, Sherry? Can’t you see this isn’t your fault? It’s the government. They’ve turned all of us into monsters.”

  Finally he left. I sat alone. His words made so much sense. Eventually I stood up and wandered outside, past the old tombstones of the cemetery until I was at the huge tree in the centre. I dropped to my knees right between its huge gnarled roots. Leaning my head against the trunk, I closed my eyes. It was so big my arms would need to be ten times as long to wrap around it.

  The tree had something comforting about it. Maybe it was the way it looked like several trees had been mended into one; as if instead of fighting each other for survival, they had decided to become one. Or maybe it was the fact that the tree was so old that it must have watched hundreds of people who’d lost someone and knew what grief meant.

  Later, I couldn’t say how much later, someone picked me up. The scent of pineneedles and something musky filled my nose.

  Joshua.

  I didn’t resist this time. He put me down on something soft and lay beside me, his arms wrapped around me.

  The claw marks would leave scars. Thin, angry-red lines, four below each of my shoulders, lining my back. Karen had checked the stitches in the morning and said they were healing well. But I would always have marks there; a permanent reminder of what I had done and what I had lost.

  Four days, 1 hour and 37 minutes since Dad had died.

  I knelt in front of the smooth wooden cross that Larry had carved for Dad. Pressing my hands against the ground, I looked up. Light-grey clouds covered the sky, blocking the sun. Could Dad see me now?

  I wiped my eyes.

  Leaves whirled through the air and fell to the ground. It had been stormy the last few days. The door leading to the church opened and Tyler stepped into the graveyard. He froze when he saw me. “Sorry, I didn’t know someone was here.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind having you around,” I said.

  He nodded and approached the cross beside Dad’s; it was for Rachel. Tyler put down a few flowers that he had picked from the inner courtyard. Red and yellow roses. He lowered his head.

  The wind howled.
It sounded like a lament. Beside Rachel’s grave was that of a young girl named Moni; the only Undergrounder who hadn’t made it to Safe-haven alive. Karen said her body had been weak with an infection and she’d found worms in her intestinal tract, probably from eating rats. Tyler took one of the roses from Rachel’s grave and put it on Moni’s. Eventually when the silence became too much, I cleared my throat. “You did a great job leading them to Safe-haven.”

  I wasn’t sure he’d heard me until he turned, eyes misty. “They made it easy. They knew how to hunt and how to hide when the helicopters flew over. I just showed them the way.”

  A door creaked and Geoffrey strode through the graveyard and into the chapel, so focused he didn’t even notice us. He rarely ate these days. The cure was the only thing on his mind.

  “Has Geoffrey made any progress?” I asked.

  “Karen said that Geoffrey has created a few more vials but he isn’t sure if it’s effective. He would need a Weeper to test it on,” Tyler said.

  We left the graveyard and walked into the house where Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table that he and Larry had painted a sunny yellow. Mom and Mia sat on a wooden bench beside the old stove. Mom’s eyes were closed as Mia was braiding her hair. The sadness etched into Mom’s face made her look years older. Every time I saw it, my insides dissolved in guilt.

  Bobby gave me a quick smile. It had taken two days after we’d brought him here before he looked completely human. Sometimes I still caught him watching birds like he wanted to eat them – feathers and all. Karen said that would probably disappear with time.

  “Where are the others?” I asked.

  In the first few days the Undergrounders had stuck together, testing us out, making sure we could be trusted.

  “Outside. They’re playing volleyball,” said Bobby.

  I glanced through the window at the huge lawn in front of the mission. The kids had built a net from two poles and a sheet and were playing and laughing.

  Mom looked at me. Our eyes met and like every other time I was surprised not to see anger or accusation in them. I sat down beside Bobby and Mom gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Mia hummed as her fingers worked nimbly with the hair. We hadn’t told her that Dad had died four days ago. For her he’d been gone much longer.

  “How do you feel?” I whispered.

  Bobby shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” He hadn’t talked about what happened in the military base. Sometimes I allowed myself to think that he didn’t remember but then I heard his screams at night. “Why don’t you play volleyball with the others?”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  I sighed. I knew what he meant.

  “You know, sometimes I scare myself,” Bobby whispered.

  “Why?”

  “When I watch a squirrel climb up a tree or a bird fly over me, I want to go after it. It’s just creepy. It’s like there’s a part of me that wants to tear something apart.” Bobby shook his head like he was trying to get the image out of his head.

  Mom got up and joined us at the table as Mia dashed outside to where Emma and Marie were watching the volleyball game. “You’ll get better. Karen said it takes a while to shake off the habits you picked up while being a … Weeper. You’ll be back to normal soon,” she said.

  I tousled Bobby’s hair, ignoring his protests. “Bobby was never normal.”

  “Haha. Very funny.” Bobby crossed his arms but I could tell that my joking had lifted his mood a little.

  “Your dad would be so proud of you,” Mom said, wrapping her arms around Bobby and me.

  Some time later, while Mom and Bobby and I sat drinking coffee, Quentin and Joshua walked into the kitchen.

  “Hey, sorry to interrupt. We wondered if you were ready to shoot your video message now.” Quentin paused and glanced at Bobby. “What about you? I think it would be great to have your take on things on the video as well.”

  Bobby lowered his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Quentin looked like he was going to press the matter but Mom said quickly. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s go outside. You need some fresh air.” With an encouraging smile at me, she led Bobby toward the volleyball players.

  Quentin frowned. “I think he should be on the tape.”

  “Just drop it,” Joshua said. He wrapped his arm around me. “So where are we going to do the shoot?”

  “What about the graveyard?” I suggested, leading them outside.

  I sank down on my knees beside the cross on my dad’s grave. That way he’d be part of this and maybe people beyond the fence would understand how much we’d already lost. I touched the rough wood of the cross, remembering Dad’s kind smile. My dad was gone. Dead. We’d lost him. As I sat there, staring at the cross, I felt the rage soar through me.

  The government had completely betrayed us. As a result of their actions, the world had degenerated so much that my own father had attacked me. The truth hit me then; clear and pure and brutal. They didn’t leave me a choice; It was their fault that I had to kill my father. And in that moment, I’d never hated anything more than the people responsible for all this. I swore to myself I would make them pay, no matter what.

  I looked up, ready to start speaking and realized that the red light of the camcorder was flashing. Quentin had already started filming.

  I cleared my throat and looked into the lens.

  “I’m Sherry. I’m fifteen and I’ve spent 1141 days in a bunker with my family. We waited for the government to tell us when it was safe to come out. But they never did. And then we ran out of food.”

  I took a deep breath, knowing what I had to tell next was the hardest part.

  “My dad and I left the bunker to search for food but Weepers found us. I managed to get away but … my dad didn’t. The Weepers captured him and took him to their nest but we saved him a few days later. What we didn’t know was that he was already infected with rabies – a virus created by the government in order to build an army; a virus that turns even the most loving and caring people into monsters.”

  I brushed my fingers over Dad’s cross. “I couldn’t save my father from the virus. After it had taken hold he turned into a Weeper. I wanted to save him, but it was too late. He tried to murder me and I had to kill him to defend myself. I —” I tried to hold back the tears but it was useless. Blinking rapidly, I focused on the camera once more.

  “I’ll have to live with that memory all my life, with the image of my father dying in my own arms because the government had turned him into a monster. They’re turning all of us into monsters one way or the other. They don’t care about us, don’t care that fathers want to kill their daughters, that families are torn apart. They don’t care about you. To them, we’re just pawns in their sick game.

  “But the time has come to show them that they’re wrong, and that they will be stopped. We need to show them that we’re more, that we have rights. You need to show them that you are more – that we are united and you do care about us, abandoned in the Void. But knowing what I’ve seen: the fence separating our country, the labs where they test the virus on innocent children, the abandoned and hunted orphans in Vegas, I have no doubt that we’ll have to fight if we want to change things – if we want to stop the killing and suffering. I’m willing to fight. For my dad who had his humanity taken from him, for the lost souls roaming as Weepers on the streets of the Void. I’m willing to fight for a better future.”

  I stopped abruptly and stood up.

  On the other side of the camera, Quentin lifted his head up, and I could tell from the expression on his face that he was pleased.

  But somehow the speech had left me empty. Would this really be heard? Could this really make a difference? I didn’t know.

  I moved out of shot as Joshua took his place in front of the camera. Joshua didn’t cry. In fact, he spoke in a cool, detached tone; the one I knew so well when his emotions shut down and determination took over. But somehow, that just made his message all the more
chilling and powerful. He talked about his mother; about watching her being beaten to death in a public bunker and about the terror that reigned L.A. in those weeks after the virus spread. He spoke about all the people he was forced to watch die during his time in the Void; about the full horror of the rabies and what it did to people, how it transformed them into animals. And finally, he talked about Zoe, his little sister, now condemned to live her life as a Weeper – about the childhood that was stolen from her, and about the pain of now knowing where she was.

  When he was done, we fell silent. It felt like Joshua and I had ripped ourselves open in front of the camera; there was no more to tell. But would it be enough?

  Joshua, Quentin and I had just gone back into the kitchen to find something to eat when Geoffrey approached us. His clothes were crinkled as if he’d slept in them and his hair was mussed and unwashed.

  “I need to ask a favor of you,” he said.

  “What do you want?” Joshua asked.

  “I think I managed to reproduce the cure but with my limited resources I can’t be sure. I need to test it,” Geoffrey said.

  Joshua raised his eyebrows. “What do you want us to do?”

  “I need a few Weepers to do the tests. Could you catch two or three for me and bring them here?”

  Joshua glanced at me, asking me to join him without a single word. I nodded.

  “If you need to catch so many, I think I Alexis and I should come too. For back-up,” Quentin said.

  “Thanks, but how will we all fit in the car?” I asked.

  “You can take the trailer,” said Geoffrey. “It’ll be safer that way too.”

  I nodded. They had a point.

  “Okay, fine,” said Joshua. “When do you want us to go?”

  “As soon as possible,” said Geoffrey.

  “Tomorrow?” I asked. Even with four of us, this was going to be tough. We had to be rested if we were going to stand a good chance at succeeding.

  “That would be great,” Geoffrey replied.

  Quentin’s eyes sparkled. “We could take the camera with us and film the nests. That’ll show people what it’s really like in the void.”