Okay. I wipe my face, but the tears keep coming. While Rice holds me, I mourn for Vivian once again.
• • •
On the outside, Memorial Hall looked like any other building in New Hope, but inside it was just one big, bland, white room. Chairs were set up facing the platform and podium and the overflow of mourners stood in the back and along the sides. I wanted to hide in the back but my mother made Baby and me sit up front with her and Adam.
What are all those TVs for? Baby asked. I studied the walls; flat screens lined the length of the hall. Each had a desk and keyboard underneath.
I’m not sure. My mother stood to give her speech. I tried to listen but it was impossible when all I could think about was Vivian and how agonizing it must have been for her at the end. While my mother talked about the strength of New Hope, I felt the opposite—drained and weak. As she spoke, the names of the victims appeared one by one on a screen behind her.
I finally gave up trying to stop the tears. I wiped my face with my sleeve and thought how inappropriate it was that I was wearing red to a memorial service. Baby’s yellow jumper was just as ridiculous; it was like we were all in a cult.
After my mother’s speech, Dr. Reynolds stepped forward. “Thank you, Director Harris. Will everyone please feel free to access individual names at any of the consoles located around the hall. Don’t hesitate to add an epitaph for friends and loved ones. In order to heal, we must first remember.” Dr. Reynolds nodded crisply at my mother and they left the platform. My mother came over to retrieve Adam before she was swept aside to speak to someone I didn’t know.
I spotted Kay and headed over to her while my mother was distracted, Baby trailing behind me.
“Hi, Kay,” I said, wondering who she lost during the Incident. None of the Guardians, but a friend maybe. Did Kay have friends?
“We probably shouldn’t be seen talking together,” she muttered to me between clenched teeth.
“Why not? It’s out that I want to be a Guardian. . . . My mother hasn’t even said anything about it.” I watched her, across the room, looking stressed but composed. “Do you think . . . maybe we should just tell my mother that you’re training me? She seems okay with me trying out. She might feel better if she knows I’m prepared.”
“Absolutely not.” Kay lowered her voice. “I’m sure that as your mother she’d want you to be safe, but as the director she would have to make an example of you for not following the rules.”
“You break the rules all the time,” I told her, incredulous.
“I never break the rules,” she stated firmly.
“Right . . . never.”
My mother appeared at my side and took me by the shoulder, away from Kay. “Honey, why don’t you go write something for Vivian? I’ll watch Baby.” She gave me a tender look. “It will make you feel better.”
I doubted it, but I nodded and went over to wait in line. After a while, the crowd thinned and I found an unused console. I typed in Alvarez and Vivian’s name immediately popped up. I highlighted it and watched a video of her, showing her Advanced Theory presentation for the synth-suits. She looked calm and poised, but I knew she was nervous by the way she fiddled with her necklace.
After the short video, I highlighted the pencil in the corner of the screen and saw that Tracey had already left an epitaph. GOOD-BYE, VIV. YOU WERE ONE OF A KIND AND YOU WILL BE DEARLY MISSED. It reminded me of the messages written inside the high school yearbook I found ages ago, while scavenging in the After.
I clicked NEW MESSAGE and thought about what to write, but ended up just staring at the blank screen for a very long time. Finally I typed: FOR IN THAT SLEEP OF DEATH, WHAT DREAMS MAY COME, WHEN WE HAVE SHUFFLED OFF THIS MORTAL COIL. SWEET DREAMS, VIVIAN. LOVE, AMY.
“Hamlet is a fitting tribute,” a voice behind me remarked. I quickly saved my message and turned to find Rice looking over my shoulder.
“It doesn’t sound cheesy?” I asked, embarrassed.
“No, it’s not cheesy. Who wouldn’t want to be remembered with beautiful words from Shakespeare?”
He studied me, then went to the console and typed, O’BRIAN, KATHERINE. A young woman appeared, just a photo, no video. She had strawberry-blond hair and dark freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. She had several messages under her name, one of which Rice highlighted.
TO DIE, TO SLEEP NO MORE; AND BY A SLEEP TO SAY WE END THE HEARTACHE. KATIE, I WILL LOVE YOU ALWAYS—R.
“You and I are very similar,” he told me with a sad smile, reaching for my hand. His touch warmed me, but I didn’t find much comfort in it. My thoughts were still on Vivian. I closed my eyes tight.
“Amy, are you all right?”
I started to cry. “I feel like I’ve lost everything all over again,” I told him. “Only this time it was worse. I thought we were all safe here, but any one of us could have died.” I paused. “Don’t you ever feel guilty that you’re alive?” I asked him.
“Every day,” he admitted. “Is that why you want to be a Guardian?”
I shook my head but I didn’t explain that my intentions were not so noble. I wanted to be a Guardian for selfish reasons, for the freedom that being a Guardian would provide.
“I’m always crying on you. You must be tired of it,” I said.
“I don’t mind,” he told me. “It’s nice to be useful, even if that use is as a tissue.”
“And what does my mother use you for?” I blurted, surprised by my harsh tone.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re obviously used for something. So, what do you assist the director with?” I raised my voice. I couldn’t stop myself. “You know, Rice, you never give me a straight answer. What do you do to the Floraes? Where did they come from?” I was almost shouting. “You must know!” I dared not say what I was really thinking, that somehow the creatures they used to study managed to escape. That this was all their fault.
I expected him to push me away, but instead he pulled me into a tight embrace. His fingers dug into my skin. People were starting to look at us and I saw Dr. Reynolds turn away from his conversation to stare. I knew I was out of control but I couldn’t stop.
“Amy, calm down.” He stroked my arm. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”
“No, it isn’t okay.” I pulled away from him. “Nothing is okay, Rice.”
Feeling claustrophobic, I pushed past Rice and rushed outside into the warm air. I started to run, kicking off my shoes when the buildings thinned and the trees began. I’d find them on the way back. I just wanted to be free.
• • •
After Rice leaves, I sit in the common room, watching the other patients. When Frank comes in, I find an excuse to sit next to him. He mumbles to himself and I try to listen to what he says, but it’s indistinguishable. Except for one word over and over again: Florae.
“Have you seen one?” I ask him without looking at him. “A Florae? Up close?”
“You don’t have to see them to know them,” he replies.
I try again. “What do you know about them?”
His hand clenches into a fist and he begins to hit himself on the thigh. I reach over and touch his leg, attempting to comfort him.
“DO NOT TOUCH ME!” he yells, jumping up. He continues to pound his fist into his hip.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell him quietly.
“This whole damn place upsets me,” he shouts. An orderly takes hold of him and wrestles him to the ground so a nurse can give him a shot.
Dr. Thorpe appears, her hand to her ear. “Mr. Jones needs his treatment now. Ready the machine.”
I know I should stay quiet, but against my instincts I stand and stumble into Dr. Thorpe’s way. “Amy, please. Not now,” she says.
“Sorry. Where’s Frank going?” I ask.
“It’s okay. He’s going to have treatment.”
“Not electroshock?” I ask, horrified.
“No. EMDR . . . I don’t have time f
or this now.” She pulls away from me.
“EMDR?” I mutter.
“Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing,” someone says at my shoulder. I turn to find the nurse at my side. “Was that too much? Do you need to go back to your room?” he asks.
“No. I’m fine. What is EMDR exactly . . .? Maybe it could help me,” I add hastily. I know I am walking a fine line.
“Frank is obsessed with the Floraes. During his treatments we show him a picture of a Florae and negatively enforce the association . . . ,” he trails off. “This may be a little complicated for you, but don’t worry. Frank’s treatment is working. He’s getting better.”
I nod and sit back down. Rice assured me help was on the way and urged me to play nice, but it’s hard not to try to help Frank. I could only imagine their version of negative reinforcement. Whatever Frank is going through, I know it is making him worse, not better.
• • •
School resumed a few days after the Incident. That’s what everyone around here was calling it. The final death count was 418 dead, no wounded. The Floraes didn’t leave wounded. They killed and devoured and moved on to kill again. And after the memorial service, more information was released about the cause.
The Incident occurred because two contiguous sonic emitters failed and were out for four days, giving the Floraes enough time to wander into New Hope. It must have seemed like heaven to them, all the loud people, all the light.
But I wasn’t buying it. Rice monitored those emitters constantly, and I knew he’d be full of regret if he were to blame. He was extremely upset, but not guilt-ridden. And Baby said that the emitters were out for about twenty minutes before she decided to tell me, not four days. How could so many Floraes make it through in twenty minutes? And why would they lie about what happened?
I sat in class, still stupidly hoping that Vivian would walk through the door, even though I knew it was impossible.
“Amy,” someone called across the room. I looked up to find Tracey staring at me, dark circles under her eyes. I wandered over to her desk. “I know what you did,” she told me. “Upstairs. You saved those children.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I explained. “I sat in a room and waited to die. Luckily the Guardians took care of the Floraes first.”
“Vivian tried to help too. She heard the little kids screaming. She ran out of our dorm room. She wanted to save them.”
“What?” This hit me like a blow to the stomach. Vivian hadn’t stood a chance.
“I hid,” Tracey told me, ashamed.
I shook my head. “You did the right thing.”
“The Floraes never made it into the Class Five dorms. The Guardians got to them first, but they were in the hall. I heard them. . . . I was so scared.” She began to cry.
“Vivian was brave, but she did a very stupid thing,” I told her. “You hid. You survived. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“You helped,” she said, sniffling. “You faced the Floraes and lived.”
“Tracey, I had a gun,” I explained. “I know how the Floraes are, how they act.”
“I’m so miserable, Amy. I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate on my projects.” Tracey wiped the tears from her face.
“It’s okay. You need time.” I hugged her and hoped it helped a little.
“My psyche-eval is up. I don’t want to be sent to the Ward.”
“You won’t. It would be strange if you weren’t sad and distracted right now.” I thought about Dr. Reynolds and my body tensed. “If you’re worried, though, try to focus on the good of New Hope, like all the great things Vivian accomplished before she . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. “Vivian was pretty kick-ass,” I told her.
Tracey smiled weakly. “Yeah, she was. I just miss her so much.”
“I miss her too.” My voice caught in my throat and I swallowed hard. “We’ll be okay,” I said. “We’ve already survived the end of the world. . . . We can get through this too. There’s nothing to worry about. We have a strong community here.” Tracey looked at me like she believed what I was saying. For her sake, I hoped she did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next day, a girl with black hair and pale skin is wheeled into the common room. I stare at her until her face blurs. I know her, but I don’t know how. I try to concentrate, but it doesn’t come to me. Frustrated, tears well up in my eyes.
“Amy, why are you crying?” Dr. Thorpe bends down in front of me. “Are you in pain?” She holds my wrist in her fingers, checking my heart rate.
“No . . . I . . .” I look to where the girl sits in her wheelchair. “Who is she?” I ask, motioning toward the newcomer.
“Just another citizen who needs to get better. We’ve moved her from another floor.”
“Do I know her?” I ask, frowning.
“If she’s upsetting you, we’ll have her removed.” Dr. Thorpe finishes examining me and walks to the girl, swiftly wheeling her from the room.
I stare after her, but I can’t trigger a memory. I hope I can remember to ask Rice when he comes. Maybe he knows who she is. Maybe he can help me remember. I try to think back again, and this time Kay comes to mind. I let myself focus on her instead.
• • •
“They’re bringing in a group of post-aps if you want to tag along,” Kay told me a few weeks later. “I can show you our protocol for arriving survivors.” Something shifted that night when the sonic emitters broke. Her nasty edge was gone, and while she was still on my ass in training, she was more serious than sadistic. She even promised to take me out in the hover-copter so I could learn the controls. It was like she already considered me part of her crew.
We headed over to the hover-copter landing pad and waited for the post-aps to arrive. “Don’t touch them,” she warned me. “A lot of them aren’t used to human contact. And obviously, keep the noise to a minimum.”
“Obviously,” I confirmed. I remembered too well what it was like to emerge from the hover-copter, freaked out and helpless. It was only a few months ago.
“It doesn’t seem like you took this much care when you brought me in,” I commented.
“I already knew you were a special case . . . and I wanted to punish you for shooting me. Twice.”
“You’re never going to let that go are you?”
“Not anytime soon, sunshine,” she told me with a smirk.
“Kay, how did you make it here?” I asked. I’d never thought about it before.
“I was here when it happened, visiting my brother.” Her expression changed and I wondered what she was remembering.
“Your brother worked for Hutsen-Prime?” I asked.
“And now he works for New Hope. He’s such an overachiever. My parents always loved that about him.” I detected a hint of jealousy in her voice.
“They didn’t care that you were a superstar?” I had a Kay Oh and the Okays poster when I was twelve. I loved her blue hair.
“I was a joke.” She didn’t sound regretful exactly, more annoyed. “I’d rather be here, doing this.” It almost sounded like she preferred the After. “I mean, it was awesome at first, don’t get me wrong. They remade me, turned me into a sex symbol. I had stylists and assistants and assistants to my stylists.”
“Sounds awful,” I said sarcastically.
“It was, after a while.”
“I don’t understand,” I admitted.
“No one ever does. You know, I wanted to be a cop,” she told me. “When they started the Guardians, about a month after they announced the world was over, I was first in line to try out. It was great. Everyone thought I would fail horribly. People don’t expect a small Japanese girl to be able to break a man’s arm.”
“They didn’t assume you were a ninja?”
I was rewarded with one of Kay’s rare laughs. “No. Of all their assumptions, ninja was not high on the list.” She pointed toward the rising sun. “Here comes the copter. When they open the door, be prepared to detain the post-ap
s if they bolt, but only use violence as a last result.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” I told her.
The hover-copter landed almost silently, only making noise when its bulk hit the soft ground. The door slid open and a child stepped out. He was about ten, sickly and malnourished. It was clear he was frightened. I smiled at him and to my surprise he smiled back, relief evident on his face.
The next person off was a woman—young and pale, with black hair. She looked around, bewildered, then found me. Her eyes went wide and I froze. Betrayal and hatred instantly flooded my system. “You!” I barked out.
I covered the distance between us in a few strides and within seconds my hands were around her neck. My fingers squeezed, her face turned red. She couldn’t breathe but I didn’t release her. I saw nothing but the girl’s darkening face. My anger tuned out every sound but her last gasps for breath.
Like lightning, Kay’s arm shot around my neck and the other Guardians grabbed my wrists. Something hard hit the base of my neck and I fell into blackness. The last thing I saw before my vision blurred was her, gasping for air.
Amber.
“Let me see her,” I insisted from my hospital bed in the clinic. Kay brought me, told my mother I fainted on my morning run, that the heat was too much.
“You almost killed her. What the hell?” Kay asked.
I recounted all that had happened, a deep bitterness in my voice. I still despised Amber for her betrayal. I hated her for taking from me the one thing, the only thing, that was normal—my home.
When I finished, Kay whistled and shook her head. “Now I get why you wanted to choke her. There’s no way I’m letting you near that girl.”
I tried to sound calm. “I won’t hurt her, Kay.”
Kay raised her eyebrows at me.
“I want to hurt her, but I won’t. I promise. I just need to talk to her and ask why she did it. Baby loved her. I trusted her.” I couldn’t continue. I wanted to cry and it was hard to swallow after the choke hold Kay had put on me.
Kay considered me. “You can see her, but only if I come along,” she said at last.
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