My mother’s apartment was a few floors up. She paused as we walked in the door, hugging me. Inside there was little furniture, but it looked cozy.
I was home.
• • •
When Dr. Thorpe comes again, I’ve been awake for what seems like several hours. My head pounds and I know that something is very wrong. I’d tried the door, but it was locked. Why did they need to lock me in? I don’t belong here. I’ve decided to refuse my medication.
“This is all for your own good. You aren’t going to get better if you continue to refuse treatment,” she tells me.
I stare at her, upset. “You’re drugging me. I don’t even remember how I got here. How is this helping?” I ask. “And why is the door locked?”
“You’ve had a very traumatic experience. It’s better this way. . . . You can’t handle everything you’ve been through. This treatment should stabilize you.”
I ignore her, focusing on a spot on the wall over her left shoulder. I hate not being able to remember, but if I concentrate, I get flashes of memories; a small man with silver hair, a toddler playing with a toy truck, a blue-eyed teenage boy with glasses and shaggy, blond hair. Baby’s smile.
I stay stubbornly motionless and eventually Dr. Thorpe sighs and puts the tray with the pills down next to the sink.
“I didn’t want it to come to this,” she says sadly. She leaves the room and I steel myself for what is about to happen. I hope I am strong enough to resist.
• • •
I sat on a couch in the living room while Baby rested her head on my lap. She’d long since fallen asleep, after I’d talked for hours about my life in the After. How I found Baby, how we survived. Now it was my mother’s turn.
“I was at the lab when it happened,” my mother explained. “We were on lockdown immediately. That’s what saved us. We had a secure perimeter, electric fences, top-notch security team. We weren’t allowed to go outside for a month. Luckily there were plenty of researchers who lived on the compound premises. We had supplies and sleeping quarters. I tried to call the house, but none of the outside lines were working.” She stared through me, haunted by her memories.
“It was clear by then that the Floraes had taken over.” The people in New Hope called the creatures “Floraes,” short for Florae-sapiens, what the remaining scientific community had named them. “There weren’t many people left out there, in the cities and rural areas. Maybe one in a million survived. We’d been in contact with the military research division at this university and decided this was the best place to relocate. That was nearly six weeks after the first Florae sighting. I . . . I ordered a search team to look for you before we left.”
She paused and gazed at me. “When they said the electric fence was intact, but you weren’t there, I was sure that you went with your father to the farmer’s market that first day. If you were outside, you wouldn’t have had a chance.” She began to tear up at the memory and I couldn’t help but cry too. How did they miss me? What was I doing while they searched the house, gathering cans . . . pilfering books? If I’d only been home that night I could have avoided years of fear. I could have been here, with my mother. But then, where would Baby be?
My mother continued through her tears. “Researchers in the private sector with facilities on the college campus were working on a stealth helicopter for the army. You would have been picked up in one.” I nodded, instantly understanding that this had to be the ship. “It was incredible. They were developing a silent technology just when we needed it. Hover-copters. We could go out to other secure facilities and bring survivors here. We could remake society.
“After a while we sent out patrols, to check on the Floraes, to see how many were left, what they were doing, how they were surviving. But the patrols weren’t just finding Floraes; they were finding people, living out there in silence, just like you. We started a program to integrate them into our systems and it’s worked amazingly well . . . although, you were the first to ever pull a gun on my assistant.” My mother shook her head at me, incredulous.
“He was going to take Baby away! I didn’t know what was going on yet,” I explained.
“Usually we send post-aps to an orientation to clarify things and ease people in, but you were classified as hostile, so you were going straight to your psychological evaluation. You should have been handcuffed and you definitely should not have had a gun.” She was no longer amused.
“That woman, Kay, took one of our guns away as soon as she captured—I mean rescued—us. I was fighting with her. I think she assumed we only had one.”
“It doesn’t matter what she assumed, she knows that she should search everyone, even children,” my mother said firmly. Her tone again pulled me back to my memories of her, how she was always the stern one. She sent me to my room when I was bad as a child and it was always my dad who let me out after she went to work.
“You know, it scared the hell out of us, that hover-copter thing and the secret agents in their black suits. We thought they were the aliens, a new kind sent after the first.
My mother blinked at me. “You thought the Guardians were aliens?”
“They don’t exactly look human. What are those black suits they wear?”
“It’s a protective fabric. . . . They scared you?” she asked, concerned.
“Yeah, I mean, if you’re looking for survivors you might want to write something on the side of the copter like ‘we’re here to rescue you, don’t try to shoot us’ or even just a symbol that everyone knows, like a peace sign or smiley face or something,” I said.
My mother put her hand on my head and stroked my short hair. “We’ll certainly take that under consideration,” she said. “You know, I thought about you every day, Amy. I had the security team bring me a photo album from the house. Would you like to look through it?”
“I would, but I’m exhausted.” And the memories were still too much.
“You and Baby can sleep in Adam’s room,” my mother told me.
“Who’s Adam?”
My mother took a deep breath and sighed uneasily. “He’s my child, Amy . . . your brother.”
“Oh.” It was too weird. “How old is he?”
“Two.” She held my hand. “He’s two years old.”
I stared at the floor, suddenly furious. “You didn’t waste any time,” I mumbled.
My mother sighed. She took my head in her hands and made me look into her eyes. “It’s not how it seems. I know you’re exhausted now. If you want to get some sleep, I can explain everything tomorrow.”
“Do, um, I have a stepfather?” I asked, feeling shaken to my core. My face burned.
“No . . .” My mother shook her head. “There’s only me and Adam.” She put her hand on my cheek. “And now you.” She looked as if she was about to cry again.
I didn’t want to see her sad. “Can I meet him?” I asked, the bitterness gone from my voice.
At that my mother’s face softened. Her smile, still so beautiful. “Of course,” she told me. “He’ll be back from school at five.”
I was quiet for a while, thinking about all I’d learned. “Mom, do you miss him?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Her head snapped up. She knew who I meant.
“I miss your father every day,” she said quietly.
My eyes stung. I desperately wanted my father to be remembered.
“But no matter how much it hurt me to lose your father, it was only a tiny fraction of the pain I felt when I thought you were gone.”
The tears rolled down my cheeks then. I leaned into my mother, hugged her tightly. She kissed the top of my head and wiped my face with her hand before wrapping her arms around me again.
“If you want to get some sleep,” she said, “I’ll stay here while you and Baby rest.”
“I think sleep would be good. We’ve had to take in a lot today,” I said, which was the understatement of the century. I put my face in my hands and massaged my temples. In one day everything I knew about the After had changed. I didn’t think I could handle much more.
• • •
When Dr. Thorpe returns again a few minutes later, she is trailed by a couple of large men wearing all white. I stay still, my eyes open but unfocused.
The orderlies approach my bedside, where I continue to lie motionless. As soon as they are close enough, I jump up, hitting the nearest one in the nose with the palm of my hand. Blood squirts all over my clothes and splatters the bed.
Stunned, the second orderly doesn’t have time to react. I crouch low and sweep his legs out from under him. My muscles seem to know what to do before I can think it. And suddenly I flash back to a gym—I’m training with Kay, a Guardian. She flickers into my mind, her expression sour, but her eyes full of kindness. In a flash as quick as lightning, her face is gone, leaving a blank void where the memory had been.
All this takes place in seconds, and the orderly I’ve tripped is still falling sideways. His head makes a loud knocking sound as it bounces against the floor. I spring forward and sprint to the door. I’m going to escape. I’ll find Baby and someone to help us, maybe the woman I recalled through my haze. What was her name again? Once I’m out of here, I’ll be able to think. My fingers are on the door handle when I feel a sharp pain in my neck. I look up to find Dr. Thorpe standing over me, flushed, a needle in her hand.
I try to open the door and run anyway, but my arms and legs have turned to jelly. I fall back, into Dr. Thorpe’s arms. She lowers me to the floor and before I black out, I hear her say, “It’s okay, Amy. You will get better. I will make sure of it.”
• • •
I woke at midnight to find Baby already up and watching me. I rubbed my face; my hand came away wet.
You were crying in your sleep, Baby told me.
Why didn’t you wake me?