I backed away slowly, not wanting to trip over whatever mechanism would spring the trap. I searched my pack for a pen and ripped out a blank page from one of the books I’d taken.
My hands shook as I scribbled, I’m alive too. I’ll be back here at midnight tomorrow. I looked at the paper and added, Please.
Elated, I placed the note under a rock just in reach of the light from the window. Whoever rigged the trap would see it when they came to check if they were successful. I figured I could return for a couple of nights.
When I came back the next night the trap was sprung, but the note was still there. Whoever set the trap had not yet returned. I placed my note closer to the fallen refrigerator, glad that the creature underneath was almost entirely covered. Its feet stuck out awkwardly and I thought of the Wicked Witch’s sister from The Wizard of Oz. We’re sure as hell not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
I had to suppress a laugh, but then the creature’s leg twitched and I realized that its slaughter was recent. I backed away, cautious that others could be close by. I walked home, slightly disappointed but also hopeful, knowing I could return the next night.
For two days I waited, with no one in sight. I wondered if they kept track of time or owned a watch. I still wore my dad’s old-school digital. More for the memory of him than anything else. I wanted to wear my mom’s Cartier, but the ticking was too loud in the absolute quiet. Each night I began to doubt my plan. I wondered briefly what the person or people were like; what if they were avoiding me on purpose? What if they were unfriendly? The thought of being able to interact with another human being made me desperate.
On the third night, there was someone waiting, crouching in the bushes. I was used to watching for Them, so I spotted him at once.
“I can see you,” I told him in the loudest whisper I dared. “Hello? Please come out.”
He stood and looked me over. I couldn’t see him well in the dark, but he was tall and his shaggy hair framed a face I couldn’t quite make out. Backing away, he waved for me to follow. I almost couldn’t believe that there was another human alive. I wanted to yell or hoot, but I swallowed my enthusiasm and tried to calm myself. Even so, I was shaking slightly as I trailed behind him to an apartment building a few blocks away. He unlocked the entrance door and motioned me inside.
We went up several flights. Some of the stairs creaked, making me uncomfortable. It wasn’t long ago that I would never have dreamed of following a man to his apartment.
At the top floor, the man unlocked the door and went inside. I looked up and down the hall, hesitating for just a moment before going in after him. He shut and locked the door with a click. Then he flipped on a switch and I was startled by the sudden brightness. I looked to the windows but they were blacked out, keeping Them from spotting the glow. A gentle hum sounded from another room.
“You can talk. They won’t hear us,” he told me.
I looked at him clearly in the light. He wasn’t young, but he wasn’t old either, probably about my father’s age. Fortyish. I wrinkled my nose. In his enclosed condo, I could smell him for the first time. It was likely he hadn’t showered since Before. His shaggy, blond hair almost covered his eyes and an unkempt beard framed his face. I guessed he hadn’t shaved since Before either.
“Who are you?” I asked. “I mean, what’s your name?”
“Jake.” He held out his hand and I shook it. His hand was firm, his skin rough. It was strange to touch another person.
“I’m Amy,” I said, my voice unsure. He still hadn’t released my hand, so I pulled it away awkwardly.
“Sorry.” He grinned. “I’m just surprised to see another live human around. It’s a shock.”
“How . . . You set that trap by yourself?” I asked.
“Construction worker by day.” He grinned again. “Drummer by night. Well, I was a drummer. There’s no band anymore.”
“There’s not anything anymore,” I said quietly.
“Whoa, negative Nancy.” He ran his fingers through his greasy hair. “We’re still here.”
I bit my lip, ashamed. I didn’t want to alienate my first human contact. “So, you were in a band? That’s fan.”
“Fan?” he asked.
“Fantastic . . . It’s what my friends and I used to say,” I explained. Sabrina and I started it as a joke, to make fun of the people at our school who insisted on talking in text-speak. Sabrina and I had whole conversations where we pretended to be bubbleheads and only used the first syllables of words. The rest of our friends got annoyed with us real fast, but subbing fan for fantastic stuck.
“Fan.” Jake tilted his head and stared at me. “I like that.”
“What kind of music did you play?” I asked, mostly because I didn’t know what else to say to him. I read in Cosmo once that you can put people at ease by asking them questions on topics that interest them. The problem was Jake seemed completely comfortable, I was the one who needed to chill. I had wanted to see someone for so long, but now it all felt so strange and unreal.
“Death metal,” he told me with a grin. “We used to make a ton of noise in here.” He motioned toward the walls. “That’s why we can talk; I had the place soundproofed. The neighbors were always bitching about the noise.”
I looked around, uncertain of what to say. Jake’s condo was nice. He had fancy furniture and paintings on the walls. One in particular caught my eye.
I gawked. “Is that . . .?”
“A Picasso,” Jake shrugged. “I know what you’re thinking, but it would have just sat abandoned in the Art Institute. Besides, we have to enjoy the finer things in life, otherwise what’s the point of surviving?”
“I suppose.” I was uneasy about it but wasn’t sure why it bothered me. Why not take priceless art? . . . It was hardly stealing. There was no one else around to enjoy it.
“What about you, Amy?” he asked. “How did you survive? You look like you’re about twelve.”
“I’m fourteen,” I corrected him. I wanted to add that I read at a college level and was very mature for my age, but I didn’t. It would have sounded stupid, and what did that matter now?
“How have they not gotten you? They’ve gotten everyone else.”
“My parents,” I explained. “One was a hippie and one was paranoid.”
Jake frowned, not understanding.
“My mother put in an electric fence; my father made sure we had solar panels, a vegetable garden, a rainwater basin. . . .”
“You have running water?” he interrupted me.
“Mostly . . . when it rains anyway. The filters work because of the solar panels.”
He stared at me. “Where do you live?” I felt my body tense. There was something in his tone that I didn’t like.
I looked at him, unsure of what to say. “Lakeview,” I answered vaguely. “But you have electricity too,” I quickly pointed out.
“A generator. It runs on gas . . . plenty of cars lying around to siphon fuel from. I also hooked a couple up in empty houses to attract those things.”
“Why?” I asked, truly curious. There were so many of Them, what would killing a few stray ones do?
“It makes me happy.” He scowled, looking anything but happy. “I feel like I’m actually doing something. Every night I go on my rounds, up to the lake and downtown and back. I check on the traps every third night.”
He stepped toward me and I backed away. I smiled awkwardly. Something about him had me on alert.
“I’m just heading to the fridge,” he told me, his hands up in the air. He opened the door and grabbed a couple of bottles. “Do you want a beer?”
“Uh . . .” Out of habit, I hesitated. “I don’t know. . . .”
“In case you haven’t noticed, society is in shambles. Our government has collapsed and we’ve been overrun by creatures from another planet. I don’t think the drinking age applies anymore,” he told me with a smirk.
He was right. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t drink. “Sure, I’ll have one,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed.
Jake returned from the kitchen and held out the bottle to me. I reached for the beer uneasily. As I stretched out my fingers the bottle slipped. The glass crashed to the floor and shattered, the noise startling me. I stared at the broken bottle, the beer fizzing in a puddle. It was unsettling not to be silent. Everything felt all wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I told him lamely. “Do you have a towel or something?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He took a swig of his beer and went to get me another one. Suddenly I was struck by an overwhelming urge to leave. “Actually, I should get back,” I said. “I wanted to do some more scavenging before dawn.”
“Oh. Okay.” His face fell. He looked at the floor, clearly disappointed. “But maybe I can see you again tomorrow,” he said, perking up slightly. “I mean, we have to stick together. There aren’t many of us left.”
“Have you seen others?” I asked excitedly. Somehow I just didn’t like the prospect of being stuck with Jake as my only human companion for the next fifty or so years.
“A few. There are even rumors that a whole town survived, though no one seems to know where it is.” He sipped his beer, unwilling to say more. Then he gave me a look that made my skin crawl. “You can stay here if you want. Or I can come to your place. I’d love to take a hot shower.” He beamed. “A shower would be fan.”
“Yeah, fan,” I agreed. Jake’s use of my friends’ slang sounded like when my dad tried to buddy up to me and said things like cool and hip.
“So, we can hang out at your place for a bit?” He was suddenly standing very close to me.
“Maybe.” I was careful not to commit to anything. “We can talk about it tomorrow.” I backed away toward the door.