Ellen Datlow - After - Nineteen Stories of Apocalypse and Dystopia

I turned so many corners, at first I don’t suppose I get far, but now I’m getting somewhere. I’ve taken smaller and smaller roads and this one is the smallest of all.

Then I hear something crying. I hold still and listen. There’s a big bush by the side of the road that would make a good place to hide. That’s got to be where the creature is. I move closer. The crying stops.

Since I don’t know what it is, I’m a little worried about reaching around in there. But I’m thinking how I know what it feels like to be wet and homeless even though I haven’t been that way very long.

I crawl under the bushes and feel around until I touch wet fur. The creature cries again. It doesn’t bite me. I pull it out and under the streetlight.

It’s nothing but skin and bones, and so dirty and matted, I hardly know what it is. But then…it’s just what I’ve always wanted and knew I’d never get to have. I even have a name all picked out. I don’t know yet if it’s a boy or girl, but I’ll call it Mr. O’Brien. There was once a man came to visit my so-called parents and that was his name. I was in the kitchen cleaning up, and he looked in at me with curiosity and kindness. I would have said something but he took me by surprise. They usually kept me hidden when people visited. If he had come again I would have been ready to say something, or I’d have made some sort of sign, but he never came back. Usually when there were guests, “Mother” locked me in the attic. I only saw that man for a few seconds, but I’ll remember him forever.

This Mr. O’Brien here is some kind of puppy, I don’t know what kind. It’s mostly brownish unless this is dirt. I hope we get to be friends and that it grows up to be big and dangerous. I’d like to see my so-called father try to come after me then.

I put Mr. O. in with me, under my big black garbage bag.

We walk until there aren’t any more streetlights. I’m looking for the real Mr. O’Brien, or a school, whichever comes first, though right now any dry warm place would do.

But no good place comes along. Then we see a big doghouse at the end of a dog run, but no dog there and it’s quite a ways from the house. At least it’s out of the rain. We crawl in. I get stiff all curled up there and have to stretch my legs out into the rain. We don’t sleep much. We leave as soon as it’s even a little bit light. I share one of my peanut-butter sandwiches with Mr. O’Brien.

That morning just about at dawn (we’ve already walked for a while), I see a school way out here in the middle of nowhere. At least it says school on it. It’s no bigger than a little house and has a big backyard with an old sand pile and a slide and two swings. I know about those from a long time ago.

I push on the doors and look in the windows. It looks abandoned. But what a nice place to hide. Two rooms. A few little chairs and tables. It would be nice if some books were still there, too, but I don’t see any.

Except I can’t get in. I try all the windows but I don’t want to break any.

We give up and go on.

I share another peanut-butter sandwich with Mr. O.

At evening we come to another school. This one is entirely different. It’s big and it looks scary. It says school on it, but almost all the people there are grown-ups. And some look very old. They’re kind of raggedy, too. The men have beards and the women wear long skirts. There’s a big banner right under where it says school, but of course I can’t read it.

They’re all very busy, but not doing school-like things. They’ve rigged up all sorts of unschoolish tents, and there are canvas shades over what looks like a cooking place with lots of pots. In the big back field they’re building a huge shiny long thing with no windows at all. Hard to tell what it is because of the scaffolding around it. It takes up the whole field. People in neat white coveralls are working on it.

I’m going to ask somebody what’s going on, but I’d like to ask a kid, except there aren’t very many around. Odd, but all the kids I see are girls and they’re all wearing skirts.

I wait and watch a long time. Good that Mr. O’Brien seems to like being with me and that he’s a nice quiet dog. We’re both the shy type. We share another peanut-butter sandwich. We’re going to run out pretty soon.

We’re sitting behind some big bushes to eat and we’re not paying attention. All of a sudden here’s just what I wanted, a girl about my age practically right beside us. She’s wearing a long torn dirty skirt.

First thing she says is—that is, after we stare at each other for a couple of minutes—“I wish I could wear blue jeans like yours, but they won’t let me. Skirts are always in the way. Are you trying to hide? What’s your dog’s name?”

“Mr. O’Brien.”

She sits down right next to us and looks as if she’d like to share our sandwich with us, but I can smell what’s cooking in those pots under the canvas shades, so I know she’ll get food.

“Why are you hiding?”

“We’re not. We’re just having lunch. What does that say there, under where it says School ?”

“Can’t you read?”

I really am embarrassed. I almost say I can except I need glasses. But I decide not to lie.

“It says, Prepare, the end is nigh .”

“The end of what?”

“The world of course, silly.” She looks at me as if I really am dumb. “It’s in the middle of ending right now, can’t you tell? Everybody knows that. All you have to do is look around. And look how hot it is already and it isn’t even lunchtime.”

Have they kept me so isolated back home I don’t even know it’s the end of the world? I wouldn’t be surprised, though. When I was cleaning up in the kitchen, I heard the news when they listened to it and things did sound bad. Lots of wars and earthquakes and horrible toxic spills, and even right near us there was a gas truck crashed into a house and exploded and killed everybody and burned up four houses.

“You have to get ready,” she says.

“How? What should I do?”

“You can join us. We’re going to a better world. We need more young girls. It’s going to take a long time to get somewhere, and it’s the young women who’ll have to have a lot of babies on the way so we can start up the new population. We won’t need a lot of men. I’m going to have all the babies I can. I’m precious. You would be too, if you joined us.”

I’m thinking how lucky it is that I ran into these people.

“If I join can you teach me to read?”

“Sure, and I’m good at reading.”

I can’t believe my luck.

“You can’t bring a dog, though. You’ll have to get rid of him.”

“Right now?”

Maybe I’m not as lucky as I thought.

“Well, pretty soon, anyway. You can find it a good home, though I don’t suppose this world will last much longer, what with all that’s been happening, but dogs don’t live a long time anyway. He might die before the world ends, so that’s all right.”

Not so all right with me.

“Come on, they’ll be glad to have you join up. I’ll ask them if you can keep the dog till we leave. They’ll probably say yes because, like I said, they really do want more girls like us.” She says again, “We’re the most important ones of all.”

Turns out they do want me. I make them all happy, especially when I say I’m running away and my people wouldn’t dare tell the police since I was illegal in the first place. They think I’ve come to the exact right spot. “Sent by God,” they say. But they sure don’t like Mr. O’Brien. (“That’s a growing dog. He’ll eat a lot.”) I promise I won’t ever take more than my share and I’ll split my food with him. I tell them I’m used to making do with less.