Meg Elison - The Book of the Unnamed Midwife

Liana Endescu

What we NEED around here is FAITH and HOPE and LOVE. There is no CHAPLAIN on this base. I asked Daniel from the council, he says he doesn’t know what happened. It’s not proper for me as a woman to represent our LORD JESUS CHRIST but I read from the BIBLE in head covering for anyone who will listen.

This was all FORETOLD in the book of REVELATION. The SEAL was opened and a PLAGUE was loosed upon the Earth. That means the ANTICHRIST walks among us. Even now his MARK is being put upon those who would trade in the MARKETPLACE.

But we are like the FAITHLESS, those who could not watch an HOUR with the SAVIOR, or like Thomas who had to put his HAND upon the LORD to make sure he was REAL, or like the men in the boat when CHRIST calmed the waters. Where is our FAITH?

AMERICA will be SAVED. Our CHILDREN will be DELIVERED ONLY unto us when we are WORTHY. Amen.

Kylie Westwood

My mommy’s name was West wood. Mommy is gone now. But I want to keep it. I live with Callie. I came here with Callie when I was a baby. I don’t remember. She tells me stories. I like her stories. I don’t like the farm because it is dirty. I like candies that the raiders bring in. I read story books and I like airplanes. I want to see a airplane. I want to fly in a airplane. I like stories about the city from before. They are funny. I love my Callie. I want a kitty. And a puppy. And a panda. Like in the stories. That is all for now. P.S. I hate Ryan. Ryan is stupid.

Archie Sinclair

I know what she wants me to talk about. I get asked about it all the time. I’m not gay. I never was gay. I like women. I was married to a woman for fourteen years. I was born straight, and I chose to act gay like anybody else can choose. That’s all there is to it.

I’ve been with Brian for more than a year now. We were friends at first, and I started to notice how kinda feminine he is. He was gay and I knew that, but we were still good friends. He could cook real good and he wasn’t all faggoty in front of me.

I woke up in the middle of the night one time and heard him jacking off. That was gross and I yelled at him about it. But it happened again a couple of times and soon we were doing it at the same time. And then together.

This never would have happened if there were still women around. This is like what happens in prison, kinda. I told Brian to grow his hair out long and he did. He dresses like a woman for me when I ask him to. He tells me he loves me and he cooks for me and keeps my house and acts like a woman in bed. I don’t love him that way, but he’s a comfort to me. He told me a few months ago I could call him Breezy. I do, sometimes.

I can’t live like those guys who are in the Hives. It’s gross, it’s like eating food that someone else has chewed up first. That just isn’t right, no matter how hot a woman is or how rare they are. It’s not natural.

What I have with Brian isn’t natural either, but at least I know he’s all mine.

Doc Jane says I don’t have to call myself gay. I don’t know what we should call it but I want us to get married. I told the raiders to keep an eye out for a nice diamond ring. I want to make an honest wife out of my Breezy.

THE BOOK OF THE DREAMLESS ONES

Not nameless. Whole bunch of them have names, but not always. But they are dreamless. Don’t suffer, don’t toil. Hearts never broken. Whole and perfect. Keeping track.

Nobody, child of Shawna

Nobody and No one, children of Jenna

Nobody Obermeyer, son of Jodi and Honus Obermeyer

Gwen, daughter of Andrea. Gang-raped by slavers. Put them down. Andrea a week after the birth.

Nobody, son of Magdalena

Rhiannon, daughter of Miranda, lived two whole hours of agony

Nobody, daughter of Hannah

Carlos, son of Carlos, carried in dead after the mother died outside of St. Louis

Nobody, daughter of that girl who never spoke. Showed up pregnant. Cut.

Stephen, son of Devon. Stillborn.

Hope, daughter of Liana. Fucking terrible name for a stillborn.

Ayaan, son of Rajnigandha. Raj two days later.

John, son of Marie

Maternal death is better this year, getting better all the time. Not a selling point.

Nobody, son of Mackenzie. Mackenzie within hours. Cut.

Martha, daughter of Hannah. Hannah made it. Again.

Jeremy, son of Abigail. Abby bled out, no fever.

Nobody, child of Miranda. Early miscarriage.

Hope, daughter of Liana. Again. Fucking stop with that name.

Tyson, son of Miri. Lived long enough to get everyone’s hopes up. Shit.

Nobody, child of Miri. Early miscarriage.

Nobody, child of Miri. Another one. She won’t take anything.

Jill, daughter of Marie. Marie immediately. Female population down. No one coming in this winter.

Women that come from south of here are mostly cut. Handful of groups doing it, and individuals who have caught on. Slavers. Furthest anyone came was Alex from Canada. Knew he was dying of radiation sickness. One of the reactors up there gone bad, he said. Mostly from Texas, some from the east, the rest from the south. Nobody from the west at all.

When Jane had been at Fort Nowhere for fifteen years, the population of the world had leveled off. People all over died of infected wounds and disease. Women and children died in childbirth, but the fury to impregnate had dimmed somewhat. Death slowed down. People had migrated and coalesced into settlements and villages, pooling knowledge and resources. They lit candles against the dark and waited. Without birth, life is only that wait.

* * * * *

The Seoul settlement was by far the most successful. Their quarantine had begun very early. Over time, they walled off the heart of the city and stopped accepting refugees. Murder and disease had persuaded them that it wasn’t worth it. A rotating schedule of sex was created for the inhabitants, and every month they waited to see who would get pregnant. They had a hundred births in that time, but no success.

* * * * *

Another successful group endured in the interior of Papua New Guinea, where life had reverted to a very simple tribal organization with stunning speed. The villages came together and absorbed foreign tourists and merchants. They hunted and gathered and farmed pigs. They believed their children would be returned to them. Hundreds lived in relative safety and comfort. It was the same wait.

* * * * *

In countries that had practiced female infanticide, the tipping point had been reached much faster. In China, Pakistan, and India the number of women remaining was miniscule. Most of them lived out their lives without ever seeing the sun, or a person besides the man or men who held them. Those that got free did not get far. The most populous country on earth became a land of ghosts.

* * * * *

Island nations fared well. England and Ireland were covered with Hives. Slavers were killed in public when they were caught, and their heads were displayed on castle walls. A small army of women ranged across Wales taking heads on horseback, led by a woman who called herself Buddug.

* * * * *

The cities stopped burning. The stars filled the skies of places that hadn’t seen them since man started burning coal. Herd animals took the plains. Salmon swelled the rivers. The earth grew quiet and everything seemed to teem with life and hold its breath, waiting.

* * * * *

Daniel Woolcott died that year. He died slowly, in bed. It was not where he wanted to be.

Jane sat with him, her book in her lap. She was patiently writing the names of everyone he could remember who had died at Fort Nowhere, from the beginning. The ones who had died in her infirmary she knew. Their names were in the book. Woolcott’s memory was good. When he said Jack’s name, Jane’s heart stopped. She asked him where he had buried the dead.