Sophie Littlefield - Aftertime

“That went on for two days. And then…well, I guess you know what happened. She started to get better. I wasn’t sure at first-I thought maybe I was going feverish myself, that I was delusional. But I woke up, I was sleeping in fits and starts, an hour here and there-I woke up and the fever was gone. Her eyes were glassy and she was, like, not there? I mean, she didn’t respond when I touched her, almost like she was in a coma or something. I yelled and yelled to try and yank her out of it, and finally a couple of people came and talked to me through the door. They had a meeting. They wouldn’t let us out, they brought us food and I tried to get Ruthie to eat and sometimes I could get her to drink, but she was…she wasn’t right. That lasted a few more days. Some people thought she had died. That I had…” Elaine shook her head. “Finally someone got the courage up to come in. They saw that the fever was gone, her pupils were normal. Her eyes were so bright, like yours, and I knew when I saw you, you were the same… And you know how kids are…they heal so fast her scratches were next to nothing. They let us out, then.”

“She’s…like me,” Cass said. An outlier.

“I stayed with her around the clock, in the conference room. And when she woke up, I was there.” They reached the doors, and Elaine didn’t look at her as she pulled the hood tighter around her face and held the door for Cass. “I’m taking you back to the room. Remember what I said. You need to go . To Colima. And you need to forget.”

Cass followed wordlessly, watching the rigid set of Elaine’s back. At the door of her cell, Elaine put a hand on her shoulder. Cass looked into her careworn face.

“Cass. When she woke up…” Elaine bit her lip, looked at the floor. “Her first word was Mama .”

Then the door shut and Cass was alone in the dark.

Time took forever to pass. Without even a sliver of light under the door, the dark was absolute, and it started to play tricks on Cass’s mind. In her thoughts she saw faces: Evangeline’s and the other Rebuilders, their expressions hard and suspicious. She remembered Elaine before, the way she used to hiccup if she laughed too hard, her sadness when she talked about her cats, her brother in Oakland. She remembered other faces from the library. Some she could put names to, others she couldn’t. She wondered which of them still lived here, and what had happened to the rest.

She thought of Ruthie, the way she’d laughed and laughed when she saw the dandelions in the library’s untended, dead lawn, tucked here and there among the kaysev.

She thought of Smoke, the way he’d looked at her in Lyle’s guest bed the night before, the way his eyes glinted when she pressed his hand hard against her.

After what seemed like an entire day had passed, someone brought her lunch. The door opened and she squinted in the sun, bright enough to let her know it was afternoon. A tray was set on the floor and the person left before Cass’s eyes had a chance to adjust enough to see who had been there, whether it was a man or a woman, someone she recognized or a stranger.

She ate by feel, a hard biscuit made from kaysev flour and flavored with rosemary, a surprise. Where had the spice come from? Was it dried and stored from before-or had it managed to return, scratching out a foothold to renew itself Aftertime?

Cass drank the tall bottle of water-gritty, bitter, no doubt boiled stream water-and did several sets of push-ups and sit-ups. A while later she did more. And then more. Maybe, if she did enough, if she pushed her body hard enough, she would grow tired enough to sleep.

Tomorrow she would be forced to go to Colima. Somehow, she had to find a way to escape. And far better to escape near the outset than later in the journey, since every mile would take her farther and farther away from San Pedro and the Convent.

Maybe forgetting would be better. Maybe if she could fill her days with other things, with chores and routines and conversations, until finally there was no room for all the memories of Ruthie-maybe then she could find some peace. But Cass knew there would never be such a thing for her, and though she pushed her body until she was drenched with sweat and collapsed on the thin mattress, the desperate need to find Ruthie was undimmed, and she lay in the dark listening to the pounding of her own heart, feeling the ache of what was missing.

When the tapping started, Cass thought it was in her imagination. It was a soft scratching sound, but then there was a snick of a dead bolt turning that was definitely real. Cass scrambled to her feet as the door opened. For a moment Cass blinked, adjusting to the light, and then an unfamiliar man came into the room and quickly closed the door behind them, plunging them back into darkness.

It was not a large room and Cass backed up into the corner opposite the mattress, feeling for the walls with her hands, panic blooming inside her. The man was bigger than her by far; her brief glimpse gave the impression of a solid build, thick arms, doughy hands. There was nowhere to go, and nothing she could use to defend herself.

But she coiled herself anyway, ready to throw everything she had into one fierce jab at the eyes or stomp on the instep, whatever it took to hurt him before he hurt her.

During the Siege there came a day when it became clear that the law was a concept that no longer had any meaning. Coalitions from Before were revealed to be more fragile than anyone guessed: prisons were opened and sheriff’s departments disbanded after the National Guard admitted it could no longer call up sufficient numbers to quell riots. Restraining orders went unenforced; predators prowled and bullies sought out the weak. Plaintiffs awaiting justice ran out of hope; defendants quit pleading innocence; old animosities based on skin color and native tongue reared their ugly heads once again. There were no more good guys in charge, no upholders of reason, no reason at all. The only rule in place was the rule of might, and crimes went unpunished as long as the perpetrators were bigger or stronger or more willing to take risks than their victims.

Most people behaved according to the same moral strictures they always had, but unexpected acts of violence and heroism stretched the ends of the spectrum. Some ordinary people discovered a taste for justice, and threw themselves into protecting the innocent, even when it cost them their lives. But at the same time, rapes and beatings and murders skyrocketed. Grudges were consummated in fits of spectacular rage, and those who had harbored violent fantasies against neighbors and rivals and even strangers acted on them with impunity.

So when instead of a body pressing her into the wall, Cass heard a low voice say, “Don’t be afraid,” she was seized by confusion rather than relief. The scream that was on her lips died in a whimper. Her hands, clenched into fists, trembled.

“Who are you?” Cass managed to whisper.

“A friend. My name’s not important, but I’m on your side. I’m here to help you get out of here.”

“Elaine said-”

“There’s been a change of plans. We need to get Smoke out, and the feeling is that you won’t be safe here once he goes missing. Look, he’s going to take you to the Convent. And for what it’s worth, we advised him against it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“What would they do to Smoke?”

“Considering that he killed three of the top guys in the Rebuilder command, I’m guessing the maximum sentence in what passes for a justice system down there,” the man said stonily.

“Smoke killed them? Are you sure?”

“Look, no disrespect, but we don’t have time for this. Getting you out just compounds the risk for all of us, and frankly we probably would let you take your chances with Evangeline, except Smoke wouldn’t leave without you.” He didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “Now, can you pay attention? We don’t have time for me to tell you twice.”