Sophie Littlefield - Aftertime

The government had issued a call for an arms surrender when street violence exceeded the capacity of the forces left to contain it, but no one knew what they’d done with the few weapons people were willing to part with. There was no doubt that there was plenty of firepower to be had, only most of it was securely hidden away, its owners dead or infected, most houses raided early on.

It had been Cass’s vague hope, as she walked all those recent days, to find a hidden stash. She wouldn’t be greedy. A small handgun, ample ammunition-that’s what she hoped to find. She knew how to shoot; she’d shot cans and paper targets nailed to trees in the fields at the edge of town with her father for a few years before he left. But she would use the gun only for self-defense or to get Ruthie.

She’d do whatever it took to get Ruthie…and beyond that, she had no plan at all.

But she was no closer to Ruthie now than she’d been before. Unless the Convent was also in Colima-which seemed unlikely-she needed to find a way to escape the plans Evangeline was making for her. And she needed Smoke’s help.

“Mr. Schaffer’s fate is of no concern to you,” Evangeline said, as if reading her thoughts. “He has things to answer for.”

“He’s a good man,” Cass protested, surprising herself, knowing that arguing with them was pointless. Besides, Smoke was nothing to her, her companion for less than forty-eight hours, a quick hand job and a little relief in the dark, a man she’d used and whom, if she remembered him at all in the future, would be only a footnote in her journey. “Whatever you think he did-”

“Fucker knows what he’s done,” Nyland said, a flush creeping over his face, and Cass realized that it was personal for this one. He had lost something or someone by Smoke.

“Nothing that didn’t need doing.” Smoke bit off the words hard.

The guy stood so fast that Cass didn’t have a chance to react, knocking over the glass of water on the table in front of him, and his fist connecting with Smoke’s face made a sound that was louder than Cass would have thought it ought to be.

But Smoke said nothing. Even when blood dripped from the cut under his eye and onto the table, he barely reacted at all.

THEY WERE LED TO SEPARATE OFFICES, AND Cass spent the night in the room with the bed on the floor. She slept fitfully until the door opened and a woman she hadn’t seen before filled the doorway. She was thin and muscular in a hooded jersey and shorts and hiking sandals, and she said very little, her face partially obscured by the hood which she had pulled over her curly brown hair.

“I’m here to take you to the bathroom. Then I will take you to the courtyard, where you will be served a meal. Then you’ll come back here.”

They walked through empty halls toward the back of the library, steps echoing on the tiled floors. Sheer drapes covered the tall windows looking out onto the parking lot. The fabric was not substantial enough to block light, but it prevented Cass from seeing much. Pinned to the fabric were hand-lettered posters with slogans like VIGILANCE: REPORT EVERY SIGHTING and EQUAL SHARES FOR EQUAL WORK and CURFEW MEANS YOU.

The outdoor “bathroom,” located in the shed enclosure where the trash Dumpster had been kept Before, wasn’t very different from when Cass had lived in the library. The makeshift panels separating the men’s and women’s sides had been replaced by sheets of plywood joined by sturdy steel braces, the roof now corrugated metal. A curtain hung from a shower rod lent privacy. The pots they had used before had been replaced by a toilet with a removable insert that could be hauled away to be emptied and cleaned.

Cass’s escort handed her a bowl of water, basic toiletries. “Take ten minutes, I’ll wait.”

Inside was a makeshift shower with a water reservoir operated by a rope pull. Cass undressed, turning her back toward the plywood wall before she took off her shirt, even though she was alone. Then she released the water and shivered as it trickled down onto her body in a cold, uneven trickle. She took as long as she dared, scrubbing her hair and skin with the sliver of soap she’d been given before rinsing with the frigid water from the tank. She dried herself with the stiff, scratchy towel the woman had given her and pulled on her clothes.

She brushed her teeth and spat on the drainage hole, and combed her hair with her fingers. She folded the toiletries up into the damp towel and left them in a plastic basket on a teak bench, and when she emerged from the shower the woman was leaning against the enclosure’s cinder block wall, arms folded across her chest.

But when she stood straight and pushed back her hood, Cass stopped abruptly in her tracks.

It was Elaine. She was wearing the same clothes as the other woman, but her face was unmistakable in the bright light of the new day.

“What-”

“Hush,” Elaine whispered and pulled the hood forward, covering her face. “Walk with me and keep your voice down.”

Cass stared straight ahead and concentrated on keeping her expression neutral as they walked back through the still-quiet building. Elaine pushed open the door to the courtyard and they walked into the sunlight, the smell of kaysev and wild onion drifting on the morning breeze. A paper cup skittered and rolled across the concrete, but otherwise nothing moved.

On an ordinary day, when Cass lived here, there were people in the courtyard all the time. Children chasing each other, adults drying clothes washed in the earliest light of dawn in the creek, or preparing kaysev, or scrubbing dishes in the tubs of water they carried back. Or simply sitting in chairs dragged into the sun, talking. But now the residents rose and slept and bathed and ate on a schedule set by the Rebuilders.

The courtyard’s layout was different, too, arranged for greatest efficiency. Tables had been organized in neat rows with plastic chairs. Plates and bowls and cutlery were stacked on shelves; a tarp had been rigged to cover them, but today, in the good weather, the tarps were rolled up and tied. The fire pit had undergone the biggest transformation of all: it was now a sturdy brick-and-mortar structure that rose a man’s height off the ground, with a chimney twice that tall, and a series of racks and hooks to hold food and pots above the flames.

“We have five minutes,” Elaine said in a low voice, biting off the words. “Exercise time. Walk with me, but don’t look at me. Look at the ground. Keep a steady pace and keep your voice down.”

She led the way along the edge of the courtyard, striding ahead with her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nothing like the easygoing yoga teacher Cass had known before.

“Tell me everything you can about Ruthie. Please, Elaine,” Cass pleaded as she caught up. “I have to know. I have to go get her.”

Elaine glanced at her; Cass saw only the shadow of her features concealed under the hood. “They’re sending you to Colima tomorrow, Cass,” she sighed. “Don’t you understand? And you need to count yourself lucky. Where they’re sending Smoke is way worse.”

“I’ll find a way,” Cass said. “I’ll get away from them-I’ll run-I’ll-”

“That’s suicide,” Elaine interrupted. “Don’t even talk that way.”

“I’ve been on my own for weeks out there. I can do it again. Besides, if I don’t have Ruthie, I don’t have anything.” Cass swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. “I might as well be dead.”

“I said don’t talk that way,” Elaine said angrily. “I’m put ting my ass on the line for you here. Because we were friends. Because-because I thought you were strong. Strong enough. If you’re going to give up there’s no reason for me to be here.”