by Meg Elison
Jodi started a song, and Patty joined her. Honus took more than an hour to come back to himself.
In the morning, Jodi told him to bury the body. He built a pyre as Dusty had once done and burned it. He came back to the house and found Jodi and Patty talking like sisters.
The three of them got on very well. They were a family, as Jodi had said. They never spoke of Lewis and they rarely spoke of the plague or the time before. Jodi miscarried over and over, and she told Patty what had happened with their first child. Patty listened without emotion. She said she would never get married again.
Six years later, Jodi went full-term with a girl. They both died. The child never left her body. Honus was wrecked with grief, and Patty did the burning. Four bodies, one place. The rain churned their ashes into the soil.
It was less than a year before the two of them started sleeping together. Patty was barren. They lived together the rest of their lives and never again saw another human being.
CHAPTER 11
The boys worked short days. They came in after breakfast and worked patiently, diligently until midday. They shared lunch at long tables in the old cafeteria. The room was windowless, with a stage at one end. They had decorated the walls with their drawings and calligraphy; many of them were developing a neat hand. When they had eaten, they had a few hours to play and run their energy off. Some of them napped in the late afternoon, others spent time in the library.
The library had been painstakingly collected and was maintained by people who cared for books beyond all things. No books could leave that building; reading could only be done there. Couches and cushions and chairs were scattered throughout and usually occupied. The scribe boys favored the books that explained parts of the before time, books that were everyday stories of people’s lives. Their studies focused on farming and writing and the repair of simple machines, but left to their own devices, the boys read books about small families and big cities and the way things used to be.
The boys did not live in families. They were part of large co-op households to which they had been given when they were weaned. They had never seen a big city. The big cities of the world crumbled and fell, overtaken by rats and ivy, undermined by floods and rust.
For a year of their lives, they reported for five days to copy the books in their neat and even hands. They were eager to please. Their letters were perfect; their lines were straight. They smiled up at Mother Ina, who tousled their hair and told them they were good. When they neared the end of the year, they asked her what they would do next.
“Soon it will be time to choose apprenticeships. You’ll meet people in the trades and see what interests you. Soon enough. But today, we return to this. Are you boys ready?”
They were ready. Hands clean, paper laid out, inkwells full.
The Book of the Unnamed Midwife
The Hive of Vivian
21 March
Farmhouse on the 80. More corn than I thought there’d be. Weird corn. Different colors, mixed colors. Cross pollinating. Corn – farmers + wind. Delicious. Roast it and don’t think about butter. Thirteen days since I saw another person. Distance. No idea who they were. Didn’t care.
Didn’t see me.
Not the last man on Earth. Even if I never saw anyone, I’d know because fucking food is disappearing. Deer in the corn. Day will come. No more sardines, no more tuna, no more pb or j. Need to get more rural. Same as it ever was, and everybody goes to Walmart. Better odds in Podunk little two-by-four kind of places. Restaurant kitchens. Sit in an old vinyl booth and casually remark that I’ll have the fried chicken. Right. Tell it to the millipedes, for they have inherited the earth.
Also can’t find a fucking goddamned water filter anywhere of any kind. Boiling everything. Fucking tiresome. Tastes bad.
30 March
Swear to shit, flocks of wild chickens. Shot two. Plucking is bullshit but remember Christmas dinner. Ate the both of them roasted and burning my fingers. Sprinkled with salt packets from a McDonald’s. Hope they breed. Hope the world is covered in wild chickens.
People nearby. Feel it.
1 April
No fools. Vivian and fourteen men. Wearing furs. Welcomed me like it was time for cake at Versailles. Well provisioned. Pretended like I had no skills. She bought the drag. Dirty, haven’t bathed in ages. Said nothing about my guns, totally peaceable. Not one of them made a move without her say. Never seen anything like it.
Alpha and a handful of betas. Biggest dude = predictably alpha, but after that, pretty random. Betas who sing and fix things and one ugly little funny guy. Rest come and go but loyal. Invited me to dinner and a long group fuck. Didn’t join but watched. Amazing. Laughing the whole time. She got off more times than I could count, gave them almost nothing. Threw them out if they came too fast or couldn’t take direction. Arrogant. Plain looking, but so confident = sexy.
Before I left asked if she needed BC. Laughed and told me she was covered if she lived to be a thousand. She might.
25 April
Passed by a person on horseback for the first time in my life. No idea male or female. Wearing a cape. WTF.
26 April
Coming into Des Moines. Not sure if I’m going to avoid the city or not. Obviously inhabited.
Fires.
29 April
Long sign with streamers made of shreds of cloth.
TOP PRICE PAID FOR FEMALE ANY AGE
DURABLE GOODS MEDICINE GUNS CITY HALL AT SUNDOWN EVERY DAY
Cutting around Des Moines.
The woods were deep green and dripped with rain. Mushrooms carpeted the ground, and trails were wiped out with new growth. She stomped through heavily, headed for a house she had glimpsed through the trees. She had gone due south out of Des Moines. She knew she was in Missouri, but not where.
The house was small, and it had once been white. Moss grew up one side and reached around the face of it, green fingers slipping toward the windows. She found the door locked, so she kicked it in. The wood was swollen and wet and gave way with a rotted creak. She hurried in and dropped her pack, glad to be out of the wet woods.
There was dry firewood inside, and she started a fire. The pantry was bare. She dug out her last can of chicken soup and heated it. She would eat it slowly.
She hadn’t made a sound in more than a month, other than moaning in her sleep. She wasn’t sure she could talk if she wanted to. Her voice was something that fell away, unneeded. Vestigial vocal cords. She hadn’t fired her guns in a long time. She wiped them down with oil, made sure they were dry and in order before putting them back together and settling in to sleep. She laid out her wet clothes to dry and sat in front of the fire in just her binder and panties, warming her back and then her front. When she felt as dry and warm as she could get, she pulled clothes out of her pack. They weren’t dry, either, so she laid them out.
She dragged a couch in front of the fireplace so that the arms of it touched the brick pediment.
She curled up on it and slept.
She awoke the second the door opened. She pulled both guns out from under the cushion where they’d been wedged and waited, holding her breath.
“What the hell? Who started a fire in here?” The room filled with the light of several lanterns.
“Hello?”
The first voice was a man’s, but the second was not. Cautiously, she peeked up over the back of the couch.
“Oh, shit.” The woman dropped her lantern. It stayed lit as it rolled across the floor. Shadows spun.
“Who the hell are you?” The man was short, with thick black chest hair showing over the open buttons of his soggy flannel. His face was covered in a stubbly beard, and he looked as if he had fallen in mud.
She held both guns where they couldn’t be seen. “Just a traveler.” She tried to speak low, but her unused voice squeaked and gave her away. She was either a woman or a boy going through puberty. She cleared her throat and started again. “Just a—”
The man stepped forward
quickly, his face showing pure shock. “You’re a woman!”
She raised both guns over the back of the couch and rested them there. “Stop. Not another step.”
“Whoa, hey. Hang on there.” The other woman stooped to pick up her blue electric lantern and stepped between them. In the firelight, she, too, was covered in mud. She wiped her face a little.
Her skin was the color of dark honey, and her hair was pulled back, but the curls showed through. Her large black eyes took in the woman on the couch and her guns and did not flinch. She radiated calm, absolutely unruffled.
“Hey, I’m Ava, and this is Dino. We’re ok. We’re not here to hurt you. This place is a way station that we use sometimes. We’re on our way back from a shopping trip. We’re armed, too, but I’d rather see you put yours away than get mine out.” She was smiling just a little.
The midwife stared at her. She was deciding.
“I want to put my clothes on. I’m gonna put my guns down and do that, and then we can talk.” She stared at Dino. He showed her his hands and then turned his back.
“Please, go ahead and get dressed. I’ll give you some privacy.”
She knelt awkwardly and pushed the couch back from the hearth. Her jeans were toasty as she put them on. The zipper was too hot to touch. She left it open and shrugged back into her long underwear. It fit her tight and made things clear, but they already knew. She put the guns back in her waistband and zipped up. She walked out to face Ava.
“All right. Guns away.”
“That’s great. So what’s your name?”
She closed her lips for a second.
Nope.
“Jane.”
“Jane.” Ava held out her hand. The custom already felt ancient. They shook.
Dino came back around and offered his, too. “Dino. It’s really Dean, but everyone calls me Dino.” He shook vigorously and smiled at her. “Where you headed?”
“East. North. Maybe New England.”
The two exchanged a glance. “What are you looking for?”
“A safe place.”
“With other people?” Dino was looking up at her from under raised brows.
“Are other people safe?”
Ava spoke this time. “Some people are. Look, we were driving a truck full of supplies through the wood when we got stuck in the mud. We’ve got plenty to eat. We both need to clean up, but we were going to have a late supper. Want to join us and maybe talk a little?”
Jane had eaten, but she wasn’t going to turn down a little more. “Ok. We can talk.”
Dino heated two pots of water from a cistern and bathed methodically in the kitchen sink. When he was done, he rinsed it out and put water on to boil for Ava.
“Thank you.” She pulled her muddy shirt off and dropped it in a heap on the floor. She followed it with her stretchy pants. “We’ve got new clothes, Dino. Let’s ditch these.”
Jane watched Dino very carefully while Ava undressed. He looked, but it was incidental. She saw no hunger there. While Ava bathed, Dino heated up cans of beef stew and set out a can of peaches. “For dessert,” he said with a little smile. Jane was still watching.
She sat down in one of the chairs at the small dining table. When they joined her, she felt she sat with Honus and Jodi again.
“So where did you come from?”
“San Francisco. Spent a winter in Utah. Traveling, mostly.”
“Have you seen many people?” Ava was eating hungrily, but Dino seemed eager to talk.
“A few.”
“Mostly men?”
“Yeah, mostly men. Where did you come from?”
“I’m from St. Louis. When the city got bad, I got out.”
Ava swallowed and reached for her water glass. “I’m from Texas. Came through hell to get here. I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe.”
Jane managed half a smile. “I might.”
“So things are the same on the West Coast?” Dino did not seem disappointed. He was like a man patting the stump of a lost limb. Just checking.
“Same all over. Dead and dying.”
Ava fell back into her stew.
“So I noticed your tattoo.” Dino nodded to Jane’s chest, where the black figure of a caduceus was inked.
Her hand went to it. She had caught Honus staring at it, but he had never asked. It had been a long time since she looked at it, really thought about it.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, are you a doctor?”
“I’m a midwife.”
The word hung there a minute.
“I might be the last midwife on Earth.”
“Well,” Ava gulped again. “You might be, but at least you’ve got medical training. That’s a great skill.” She applied herself to licking the bowl.
“Yeah, I’m trained as a nurse. Not just babies. Great because babies are about out of business.”
Ava and Dino shared another glance. Jane decided she could wait it out.
“Do either of you need medical attention?” Her cool professional eye was on them. They didn’t.
“I know a man who died of tetanus this year. We think it was tetanus. He got cut on some tiny thing, like a rusty nail. We didn’t know what to do. We could use somebody . . .” He looked at Ava.
Ava sighed. “We have a place,” Ava said carefully. “It’s very safe. Enclosed. Defensible. We’re not really looking to take in new people, but we never turn down women or girls. Combine that with your training, and of course we want you.”
Jane was stiff. She waited.
“We’re not going to make you. Nobody will lay a hand on you. Believe me, I know how this sounds. I got sold twice before I got out of Texas. I lost my daughter out there.” Her eyes were wet, but nothing fell.
“Sold?”
“Once for guns and once for penicillin. Both times to gangs of guys. The first gang killed my daughter. She was thirteen.”
Ava dropped her chin to her shoulder, as if she were looking behind her. She took a few breaths.
No one spoke. She started again when she was steady.
“Second time, the gang of guys fell apart, starting killing each other. I end up with this asshole Eddie. Eddie sold me for penicillin after he got pneumonia. He shot the guy he sold me to and took me back. The penicillin killed him. I took his gun and his car and ran.”
“Allergic.”
“Yeah, that’s what I think, too.” Ava’s eyes were intelligent and steely. Jane adjusted her opinion of the woman and listened closely.
“You didn’t get pregnant?”
“IUD.”
“Good for you.”
“Good old Planned Parenthood. Saved my life.”
They shared a moment, a knowing. Dino did not intrude.
“What about you?”
Jane looked at her steadily. “I got into trouble a couple of times. Killed some men. Never got captured. Or sold.”
Fuck, am I bragging? Hope she doesn’t think I feel superior. Only luck.
“Good for you.”
“Do you want to come with us? If you don’t like it, you can take off anytime. We don’t hold people.” Dino looked hopeful. He finished his stew and kept his eyes down. He was studiedly trying not to look eager. He had learned to mask the intensity of his feelings toward women; Jane could see it. He was consciously trying to not scare her, and she liked him for it.
Jane thought about it. She spooned up the last of her stew. “I’ll go with you. I want to see it at least.”
In the morning, they walked out to the truck and packed sticks under the stuck wheels to get it out. They piled into the cab and drove.
Fifty miles away, they came to the gates of a military fort. The sign had been covered over. Jane couldn’t read what had been underneath; it just looked like bumps under the paint. The hand-painted top layer read “Fort Nowhere.”
16 June
Fort Nowhere = 124 men, 17 women, 6 boys, 2 girls. Cohesive. Peaceful.
Only a handful of military left.
One guy who was here when medevac brought people in. Slowly seeing everybody for checkups. Place has a real infirmary, equipped for basic hospital functions. Sterile instruments. Slip right back in. Even wearing scrubs.
Two pregnant women, all but four of the others now on BC. One girl near menarche, the other has a few years yet.
One case of hepatitis. Couple of skin infections, one poorly healed knife wound. No STIs in the population = miracle. Basic care and all grateful, all relieved to see me.
Pros of staying: decent people. Met a few I can talk to, even some funny guys. Bernardo, Isaac.
Couple of women I really like. Rachel. Callie. Place is clean, organized. Well stocked, but they’re setting up gardens for next spring. Nobody has gotten into my space at all.
Council of five in charge, but everyone votes. The vote on punishments was unanimous. That was a shock, but it’s a pro. Some large arrangements, some monogamy. Three single women not including me. Dating, fucking for sure. But no coercion. Handful of men sleeping together.
Convenience. Attraction. Adjustment.
Cons of staying: no other medicos, going to get worked to death if people get sick. Can’t let them become dependent. Train my replacement. Won’t keep me, can walk right out the door anytime.
Might as well stay. Free to stay = free to go.
CHAPTER 12
When Jane had been at Fort Nowhere for a few months, strangers approached the gates. Two men and a handcuffed girl, a teenager. Her face was covered, and the handcuffs were rusted in their joints.
The men asked about trade but found that the fort was not open to trading guns. They pulled back the girl’s hood and offered her in exchange for letting them stay. The night guard let them in.
Bernardo was one of the guards. He was tall and muscular, good with a bow. Very handsome.
When he knocked at Jane’s door, she was happy to find him there. He told her why he needed her, and her smile faded.
