After the Lights Go Out

by Lili Wilkinson

  I thank her mechanically, but when I walk outside I take the box over to the Heart and leave it with the others.

  Then I climb on my bike and start to pedal home. Certainty settles in my gut.

  What we are doing is wrong.

  The Paddock, our supplies, our skills – hiding it away is wrong.

  Dad was wrong.

  I turn around and cycle back into town.

  Mateo is lying on his bed, reading. He smiles when he sees me, and shimmies over a little, making space for me.

  I snuggle into him, drawing comfort from his warmth.

  ‘Rough day?’ he asks.

  I nod. We talk for a while as the room grows dark, about nothing in particular. About our old lives, our friends, the things we’d wanted to do. It all seems so far away now. Mateo lights a candle and we watch each other in the guttering yellow light.

  Eventually he takes off his glasses and puts them on the bedside table along with his book, then blows out the candle and wraps his arms around me.

  For a while we lie there in the darkness. I listen to Mateo’s steady breathing and wonder if he’s fallen asleep. But then he speaks.

  ‘I was so excited to move to New Jersey,’ he says. ‘I thought I was going to move into some big white-picket house like in one of those Nickelodeon shows. I figured everyone there was rich and beautiful. But when we arrived we lived in this shitty little apartment next to a train line. Half the kids at my school were assholes, and the rest were…they weren’t like overtly racist, but I always knew I was different. I didn’t make any close friends. I never got picked for sports. People called me Matt or Matthew, and made a big fuss about not being able to pronounce my surname.’

  ‘Did you talk to your teachers about it?’

  Mateo snorts. ‘I told one teacher. She said I was being too sensitive. And sure, if it only happened once, then yeah, she’d have a point. But when it happens every day? You start to believe that these are the things that define you.’ He sighs. ‘After I talked to her, she started calling on me in class to explain how my culture does things. Mateo, please tell the class how to say that in your language? Mateo, can you tell us about how your culture celebrates Christmas? I know she was trying to do the right thing, but it made it so much worse.’

  I nestle my head under his collarbone, feeling his voice resonate in his chest.

  ‘I even started praying, even though I’ve never believed in God. I used to pray that I’d go to sleep and wake up white. I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to fit in.’

  I think about the first day I saw Mateo. His dark rainbow hair. His nail polish. His tattoos. I can’t imagine him ever wanting to fit in. ‘So what happened?’

  I feel him shrug. ‘Fuck those kids. Fuck that teacher. Fuck looking like everyone else. I am fucking amazing, a million times more amazing than some white pendejo in New Jersey. I can’t change where I’m from or the colour of my skin. And I don’t want to.’ He speaks the words that are inked into his forearm. ‘Nada contra la corriente.’

  Mateo’s voice sounds so fierce when he says it, and I feel a burst of something that, if the world wasn’t so terrifying, I might think was love.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ I tell him. ‘I’m trying to do the right thing, but I don’t know what the right thing is.’

  ‘I’m scared too,’ he says. ‘I’m scared I’ll never see my mom again. I’m scared I might never leave here. I’m scared of what might happen when I do.’

  The burst of what might be love splinters into shards that cut deeply into parts of me I didn’t know existed.

  ‘My mom wants to leave,’ he continues. ‘She told me after the memorial service. She has a plan.’

  He can’t leave. My relationship with Mateo is the only thing that’s keeping me sane. I need him. I need these moments of relief, where we can hold each other and forget about everything that has happened, and everything that hasn’t happened yet.

  I don’t respond, and after a few minutes Mateo’s arms around me loosen a little, and his breathing deepens.

  But I can’t sleep.

  I think about the arguments I made to Clarita, and consider making them again to Mateo. But I know it’s no good. I need something more. Something to offer him to make him stay.

  The Paddock.

  If Mateo knew about the Paddock, then maybe he could feed things to Clarita without her knowing. He could ‘find’ certain medical supplies that she so desperately needs. I could slip a few things away without the twins noticing.

  And after all, Keller knows. Why should Blythe get to tell her boyfriend, but I can’t tell mine?

  Family comes first.

  Good girl.

  I think about my parents. Of course Dad would tell me to protect the twins at all cost. But what about Mum? She sacrificed her family for her own happiness. She abandoned us, left us with Dad, and ran off to her new life.

  Is that what I’m thinking of doing? In choosing Mateo, am I sacrificing my sisters?

  My mind careens back and forth all night, trying to make a decision.

  As grey predawn light starts to seep in through the window, I feel Mateo shift next to me, and I turn my face up to his, to watch him waken.

  He doesn’t seem surprised to find me in his bed. His arms tighten around me, and I feel a rush of desire.

  I love him without his glasses on. I love that it’s a part of him that most other people don’t get to see. Behind his glasses, his eyes usually look black or very dark brown, but up close in the morning light I can see flecks of dark green and hazel. We gaze at each other and I feel giddy and breathless with longing.

  I forget everything. My own fears. Mateo leaving. Grace. Dad. The hunger and grief in the town. It all fades away, until all that’s left is me and Mateo. We have nowhere to be, nothing to do. Lazy, sleepy caresses build into something more purposeful. We savour every moment.

  We open up to each other, learn each other’s bodies. We’re careful, as we agreed, but we’ve learnt there are many alternate pathways to pleasure. I’ve never been this vulnerable before. I don’t feel embarrassed, or self-conscious. I don’t worry about my lack of experience. I trust Mateo, and he trusts me.

  There are moments of awkwardness as we explore each other. But we are honest, and it’s beautiful.

  It is unfathomable that I’ve only known him for a fortnight. It feels like a lifetime.

  Afterwards, Mateo disappears into the bathroom and I hear splashing water and yelping. He emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist, grinning at me as he slips on his glasses. ‘My kingdom for a hot shower.’

  I open my mouth to agree with him, but nothing comes out.

  I can’t lie to him again.

  We split a tin of peaches for breakfast, and then head down into the street. Blythe is pulling up on her bike.

  ‘Big night?’ she asks me with raised eyebrows.

  I ignore her implication and tell her about the memorial and Jan Marshall’s change of heart.

  ‘Good for her,’ says Blythe.

  She doesn’t appear troubled by the parallel between Jan and us at all. But then, neither do I. Not on the outside, anyway.

  ‘How’s Grace?’ I ask.

  ‘The same.’

  ‘Is she sick?’ Mateo looks between me and Grace. ‘You guys weren’t at the memorial.’

  ‘Just a cold,’ says Blythe, offhand. ‘She’ll be fine after a day or two.’

  ‘You felt it was okay to leave her?’ I ask.

  ‘She’s sleeping, and I needed to get out of there for a bit.’

  She heads off to find Keller, leaving Mateo and me alone.

  I take a deep breath. ‘Why don’t we go to my place?’

  Mateo looks at me, one eyebrow raised. ‘Really?’ he says. ‘Your place? I finally get to see your bat cave?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘It’s because of my amazing skills as a lover, right? Now you know the power of my hands and tongue, you’re never going to let me
out of your sight again.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Mateo is jovial as we cycle out to our place.

  ‘I figure you must have some really embarrassing bedroom that you don’t want me to see,’ he says. ‘So what is it? A shrine to One Direction? A massive collection of creepy dolls? Or are you a hoarder, and it’s piled high with old magazines and balls of string?’

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’

  My stomach is fluttering with nerves. I pull up in front of our house and climb off my bike. Mateo follows and heads to the front door.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Not that way.’

  He frowns. ‘This isn’t your house?’

  ‘This is my house. But it isn’t where I live.’

  I lead him on foot up over the ridge behind the orchard.

  It’s been awful having to keep this secret from him, and now I’ve decided to finally come clean, I can’t wait for him to see everything. The food. The supplies. The shower. But I’m not sure how he’ll react.

  ‘Okay, this time you are definitely leading me into the bush to murder me,’ he says as we descend the ridge into the thicket where the Paddock is. ‘I’m impressed at your long con, but I think you went overboard. You could have killed me on day one.’

  I’m too nervous to joke around with him. I take his hand and we push through the close branches and trunks of the thicket, while Mateo mutters about spiders and nature.

  We emerge in the clearing, and I kick aside the dead leaves.

  ‘What the fuck,’ says Mateo when he sees the hatch.

  I haul it open and lead him down the steps into the darkness. I spin the combination on the heavy metal door, and it opens with a hiss as the air seal is broken.

  Mateo drops my hand.

  He doesn’t say anything.

  I look in on Grace first. She’s lying on her bed, shiny with a film of sweat. Her skin is pale. She doesn’t wake up, but her sleep looks restless.

  ‘She has an infection,’ I tell Mateo, and remember the promise I made to Grace.

  I lead him back into the corridor and then I show him everything. The bedrooms. The kitchen. The bathroom. I demonstrate the running hot water. I show him Dad’s gym, and the communications room with the water recycler and the solar battery.

  ‘This was here the whole time,’ he says at last.

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.’

  He acts like he hasn’t heard me. ‘That family left in search of insulin for their kid. Do you have insulin?’

  I hesitate. ‘If we distributed the supplies here in Jubilee, they’d be gone in a few weeks. Some of those people out there aren’t going to make it. We’re young and healthy and we know how to look after ourselves. Our odds of survival are high, but if we give up the Paddock they drop significantly.’

  ‘So that’s all you care about?’ Mateo says. ‘Survival of the fittest? Give all the resources to those most likely to survive, and throw everyone else to the wolves?’

  ‘I know it sounds harsh,’ I say. ‘But these are harsh times. You have to put emotion aside and be rational.’

  He hesitates before speaking again. ‘What about Grace?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s weak and fragile. Are you going to kick her out of your bunker to fend for herself so you and Blythe can fatten up on her share?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I say. ‘Grace is family. Family always comes first.’

  I parrot Dad’s words, the words that I’ve been fighting against for the last three years.

  Good girl.

  ‘And Keller Reid is family?’

  I grind my teeth. ‘He – he found out about the Paddock. We had to let him in, or else he would have told everyone.’

  Mateo meets my eyes, a flat look that strips away my excuses.

  ‘Is that what you expect me to do? Throw me a few treats so I’ll play along?’

  ‘I trust you.’

  Mateo looks around again, at the books on the shelves – titles like Return to the Dark Ages and Rise of the Patriots. ‘You’ve been lying since the beginning,’ he says, almost to himself. ‘You always knew it was an EMP. You played dumb and let me explain it all. I can’t believe I didn’t realise. You’re this outback survival warrior, and I thought, hey, I guess that’s what Australian girls are like. I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say again, and reach out for his hand.

  Mateo flinches away. ‘I don’t even know who you are,’ he says quietly.

  ‘You do,’ I say. ‘You know me.’

  But I can see that I’ve lost him. ‘Is this really who you want to be?’ he asks, and the disappointment on his face almost breaks my resolve, and my heart.

  ‘I have to protect my family,’ I tell him. ‘They’re all I have. I promised Dad I’d keep them safe.’

  ‘And what happens when the lights come back on? Will you be able to live with yourself? Will you be able to look your sisters in the eye, without seeing everyone you sacrificed for them?’

  ‘Mateo,’ I say. ‘The lights aren’t coming back on. This is it.’

  He stands there, silent, for a moment, as though he’s waiting for me to say something else. I don’t. I can’t. Part of me knows he’s right, but what choice do I have?

  He turns to walk away.

  ‘Are you going to tell everyone?’ I say.

  He hesitates, and silently shakes his head. I can’t tell if that’s a no, or a gesture of disgust.

  They come for us the next morning.

  12

  I’m sitting at the table with my breakfast, Panda at my feet, when I hear the tread of feet on the steel stairs leading down to the Paddock, then a heavy thumping on the door. Something inside me thumps too, a queasy, nervous feeling that I can’t quite put a name to. Grace appears in the living room – the first time she’s been out of bed in days. She’s wearing red tartan pyjamas, even though it’s way too hot for flannel. She looks disoriented, like she doesn’t quite know where she is.

  Blythe appears behind her, wearing yoga pants and her sparkly unicorn T-shirt. She guides Grace onto the couch, where she slumps, staring vacantly at the steel door. Keller is there too, wearing only boxer shorts. His bare chest is smooth and hairless, like a plastic doll’s. I’ve never hated him more than I do at this moment.

  ‘Put some clothes on,’ I snap, and Keller bows mockingly and retreats to Dad’s room.

  ‘Come on, girls,’ says a muffled voice from outside. Violet. ‘We know you’re in there.’

  Panda’s tail thumps on the floor.

  ‘How does she know?’ Blythe asks me, and I’m furious at her for assuming it’s my fault, that it couldn’t possibly be Keller who exposed our secret, and furious at myself because she’s right.

  ‘Mateo,’ I say.

  ‘You told him?’ Blythe’s outrage makes me seethe with fury. Hypocrite. ‘Open Dad’s trunk,’ she says. ‘Let her know we’re armed.’

  I’m horrified by how matter-of-fact she sounds.

  When the shit hits the fan, the normal rules don’t apply, says Dad in my head. You have to do whatever it takes.

  I look over at the trunk, and my hands start to tremble.

  ‘No,’ I say at last. ‘They’re our neighbours. That’s not an option.’

  I can hear shouting now, on the other side of the door. A man’s voice. David Bratton.

  Grace starts to cry.

  ‘Then don’t let them in,’ Keller advises, reappearing wearing jeans and an improbably white T-shirt. ‘They can’t get through the door, and they won’t wait forever. Eventually they’ll leave.’

  It’s a ridiculous suggestion. ‘And then what?’ I say. ‘Do we stay in here forever?’

  ‘We could survive in here for a long time,’ says Blythe. ‘Years, even. We can wait until it blows over.’

  I stare at her. Until it blows over. She means until everyone else dies. We’ll stay in the bunker for…how long? Months? A year? More? Jus
t the four of us, slowly driving each other insane. Outside, the people of Jubilee will perish – some of disease, others of starvation. Once the coast is clear we’ll emerge into the vestiges of our world. What do we do then? Try to find some last tatters of civilisation? Do we try to rebuild a society, one Adam and three Eves? Try to make it work as a family, have children, hope for a better future for them? Or do we spare them this broken world and live until our own health and supplies give out and we eventually join the rest of the town in death?

  It’s what Dad would do.

  And I realise I do have a name for the strange feeling I had when I first heard footsteps coming down the metal stairs.

  Relief.

  I’m relieved, because Mateo was right, and I knew it all along.

  I stand up and walk over to the door.

  ‘Pru, no!’ Blythe’s voice spikes with panic. ‘What about Grace? What would Dad say?’

  I hesitate, my hand on the doorhandle. ‘He’d tell me to be a good girl.’

  I pull the door open.

  I’m expecting a confrontation. A fight. A request for me to explain myself. To justify my choices.

  Violet Hickory stands on the threshold, looking around at the Paddock. Behind her are David Bratton and Mateo. He looks thoroughly miserable, and won’t meet my eyes. I want to grab him and tell him that he was right, that I’m sorry. But I don’t. Because at the end of the day, he betrayed me. He didn’t even give me a chance to do the right thing.

  Panda, being the ridiculous loveable idiot she is, thinks that we’re having a party. She wags her tail and grovels at the feet of our visitors, squirming happily and begging for pats.

  Violet gazes at me, and she looks so sad and disappointed that it nearly breaks my heart. I’ve let her down. I’ve let the whole community down.

  ‘You’re coming into town,’ she says quietly. ‘All four of you.’

  It isn’t really a request, but I nod anyway.

  ‘You got a manifest?’ she asks.

  I nod again.

  ‘Bring it.’ She turns and walks back up the stairs.