In Another Life

by Liesel Browning

  “My dad basically told me the same thing.”

  “Fuck,” he sighed. “Their generation fucked ours.”

  “I think we can trace the bombs a few years further back,” Sadie said. She’d read some of her grandfather’s history books. He was a bit of a World War II buff.

  Remy glanced over at Christian, absorbed in his reading. “And what about the kids?” he said. “The ones who are born into this? That kid doesn’t even know…”

  “I know,” Sadie said. “I think about it all the time.” They both looked over at Christian for a moment. He was a bit small for his age, never having access to dairy or certain vitamins or quite enough protein. He wasn’t starving or anything, but you could just look at the kid and tell he’d been through some lean times. What kind of life did he have to look forward to?

  “I don’t blame her for going out to find a better place,” Remy said. “I…” He couldn’t finish his thought. Sadie nodded, and without another word, they started loading the boxes into the back of her truck. Sadie shook Remy’s hand before she and Christian got in.

  “It was nice to meet you, Christian,” Remy said, shaking the kid’s hand again.

  “Thanks for the books,” Christian said.

  “You’re welcome,” Remy said. “I hope you’ll come back again.”

  “Me, too. ‘Bye.” Christian climbed into the truck. Sadie nodded to Remy, offered him a little smile, before she got in and started the truck. She let it warm up for a couple of minutes as she took a couple of hits off a joint.

  “Sadie?” Christian asked, snapping her out of her reflection on her conversation with Remy Charles.

  “Yeah?” Sadie responded, a bit more sharply than she meant. “Yeah?” she repeated, more softly.

  “Are you okay?” Christian asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look upset,” Christian said. “Was I not supposed to take the comics?”

  “No, you’re meant to have them,” Sadie assured him. “It would make Remy happy. I just…I got some bad news about a friend.”

  Christian nodded solemnly. “I like Remy,” he said.

  “He likes you, too,” Sadie said. “There aren’t many kids around anymore.”

  “Where are they?” Christian asked.

  Sadie put out the joint and put the truck into drive. “I don’t know,” she said.

  *

  Sadie couldn’t stop thinking about Manny. She’d promised not to do anything reckless. She told Sadie she would stay in La Ronge, stay with her family, until she had concrete evidence of some sort of functional, safe community. How could she just take off like that?

  Part of Sadie wondered if Manny really did find this Sanctuary Coast, or some other “safe place” she’d spoken of. Because as she helped Amelia around the house, she couldn’t stop thinking about what life would be like there. What Manny would be doing in a place like that. What she and Amelia could be doing.

  Amelia was making a lot of meals with potatoes, and was dipping into their canned preserves as much as possible, not wanting to waste the store-bought nonperishables until necessary. They did finish the chili by February (by their estimation), but the two ornery, surviving chickens were still producing enough eggs. Just enough.

  Sadie spent time keeping the driveway clear of snow, though she only really needed the truck to drive to La Ronge for her monthly visit. It snowed a lot, clear white snow that Christian would build into a snowman. Sadie remembered the snow that fell the first couple of years after the bombs fell. It was a brownish yellow. Then for a while, more yellow. It was only within Christian’s lifetime that snow was white again, and safe to use for their drinking water.

  And there was plenty of it in the great white north. It kept the creatures at bay, and they continued their quiet life behind the fortified brick walls. Sadie tried to spend a little time on the truck, but she mostly hung around in the house with Amelia and Christian. She was very grateful for Remy’s gift, as it kept the kid distracted in his room for hours on end.

  When Amelia wasn’t busying herself in the kitchen, she and Sadie were in their bed. One particularly cold February afternoon, as the winds blew so hard that the windows rattled, Sadie and Amelia were naked beneath their quilts. Amelia lay on her back, her blonde braid lying on her shoulder, as Sadie straddled her.

  Sadie knelt down and brushed her lover’s hair aside before kissing her soft skin. Sadie grasped Amelia’s upper arms as she kissed her neck, her chin, her sweet lips. She reached down and played with Amelia’s hard nipples as she kissed her. Amelia gasped. Sadie kissed her way back down her lover’s neck and spent some time tonguing her nipples, licking her soft little tits.

  “Sadie,” Amelia gasped, and Sadie reached down and felt Amelia’s slit. She was soaking, and Sadie smiled, not wanting to make her lover wait any longer. Amelia spread her legs as Sadie slid down between them. She reached up and kept toying with Amelia’s nipples as she ran her tongue along her slit.

  She tongued her lover’s clit as she fucked her with two fingers. Amelia spread wide and pumped her hips in time with Sadie’s thrusts, moaning. Sadie fucked her slow, going as deep as she could, reaching into her lover’s warm depths with her eager fingers. She leaned in and nibbled on her clit, and Amelia’s moans turned to cries of pleasure. Sadie didn’t let up until she felt her lover tighten around her, drawing her in as she screamed and came.

  Sadie finally removed her sticky fingers. She sat up and brought them to Amelia’s lips. Amelia took Sadie’s fingers in her mouth and tasted her own juices. They both giggled.

  As they lay together that cold afternoon, the wind howling around the little farmhouse, Amelia dozed. Sadie stroked her lover’s skin lazily and thought about other cold days. She’d be the one holed up in her room, reading one of the books Manny slipped to her on one of her trips to La Ronge with Glenn. She would hear Glenn and Amelia through the walls, whispering together, laughing, moaning and crying out as they made love. Sadie would sit on the floor with her fingers jammed in her ears, her book lying unnoticed on her lap, as she let bitter thoughts run through her mind.

  The bitterness resurfaced sometimes. Sadie tried to hide it. She tried to understand, and not judge Amelia for choosing Glenn. For loving him. How could she not love him?

  But when Amelia mourned his death, Sadie felt bitter all over again. Weren’t they all happier since Glenn was gone? Amelia didn’t have to take care of a drunk, flaccid old man any more. Christian hardly seemed to miss their father; he never mentioned him. And Sadie certainly didn’t miss how overbearing Glenn was. She didn’t miss the orders, the lectures, his desperate quest for hope. Everyone was so much more relaxed. Everything was so much better.

  Sadie tried to put her bitterness aside. Glenn was gone. She wanted to forgive her father, put away all the anger and focus on better memories. But when she tried to think of any that afternoon as she lay in bed, touching her lover, she drew a blank.

  *

  By the time Sadie was 11, she was an expert at gardening. She taught Amelia how to help care for their food plants, essential to their survival. She also taught her how to nurture and cultivate their summer “weed,” as her father called it. “I think people smoke it,” Sadie said with a shrug as she and Amelia worked in the garden.

  Amelia giggled. “It’s marijuana,” she said. Amelia was older, wiser. Sadie didn’t necessarily want all of the wisdom that Amelia gained since the bombs were dropped, but she was 14 when her family fled their big, nice house in suburban San Diego, California. She had some experience. She almost finished middle school, Sadie reminded herself.

  Amelia explained the use of weed. “Have you ever tried it?” Sadie asked. Amelia shook her head. Sadie looked down at the buds lying in her hand. She took a closer look. “People really do that?”

  “Lots of people,” Amelia said. “My brother used to.” She frowned. Amelia didn’t like to talk about her family much. She especially didn’t like to think about her little sister
Amy…

  “Do you…do you want to try it?” Sadie asked, holding the buds out to Amelia. “We have lots of it, Dad wouldn’t notice if we took a little.”

  Amelia frowned. “I don’t think he’d like it.”

  “So?” Sadie asked. She tossed the buds into the cloth sack she carried. She carefully pinched some more off of the tall, strong-smelling plant. “I’m gonna try some.”

  Amelia smirked. “Do you know how?”

  “In paper,” Sadie said. “Like tobacco, right?” Amelia shrugged, still smirking, as she helped Sadie with the weed harvest.

  But Sadie didn’t really want to try any until she caught her father at it. It was a few weeks after the harvest, and Sadie went out to the farmyard to use the outhouse. Glenn stood next to the barn, puffing on a wooden pipe. Sadie forgot her errand and went over to him.

  “What’re you doing?”

  Glenn blew his hit up into the night air. “I’m testing the marijuana,” he said. “Seeing if it’s ready for trade.”

  “Is it good?” Sadie asked.

  Glenn chuckled. “The Charles brothers will be pleased, put it that way.”

  “Can I try it?”

  Glenn frowned. “You’re too young.” Sadie glowered at him. After all she’d seen and been through, how could he have the nerve to say that to her? “It’s not good for your, ah, brain development.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “If it’s bad for your brain, then why are you doing it?”

  “Because I’m an adult,” Glenn said. “Kids don’t get to do things that are bad for them. Sorry.”

  “Fuck that,” Sadie said. Glenn frowned. He didn’t like it when she cursed, but he’d stopped scolding her for it. Sadie stormed off. At one point, she tried to locate her father’s wooden pipe. But she never found it, and it wasn’t worth the effort. She didn’t try weed until a couple years later, when she smoked with Remy Charles above their family store. Glenn didn’t really give a shit at that point. He had something else Sadie wanted.

  *

  When Amelia wasn’t in the kitchen (or in the bedroom with her lover), she was knitting up more sweaters and hats in the living room. The yarn supply was dwindling, but she’d already made several things for herself and her family, on top of all the stuff Sadie traded in La Ronge. Amelia once told Sadie that her mother taught her to knit years ago, back before the bombs fell and her quirky little hobby turned into a necessary skill.

  Sadie would sit with her in the living room, reading one of her old books. That afternoon, after spending a little time clearing the driveway again, Sadie was reading one of her grandfather’s World War II texts. She didn’t have much interest in war, beyond hating it, hating what it had done to their lives. But she found the book about wartime industry in the U.S. interesting. It made her wonder about places where things were being made, if such places existed. If Sanctuary Coast was real.

  At one point, Amelia set aside her knitting and put her hand on her lover’s knee. “What’s up?” she asked. She’d noticed how thoughtful Sadie was.

  Sadie shrugged, forcing a little smile. “Nothing.”

  “Something’s been on your mind,” Amelia said. “Since you last got back from La Ronge. Nothing happened with Christian, did it?”

  Sadie shook her head. “You know I’d tell you.” Amelia shrugged. “I would.”

  “What’s the matter?” Amelia asked.

  Sadie put aside her book and sighed. “I got some bad news,” she said. “About someone I used to talk to sometimes in town. She, uh, she took off with some friends.”

  “Took off?” Amelia asked. “Took off where?”

  Sadie shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

  Amelia took her lover’s hand. “She must have been restless.”

  “I get that,” Sadie said. “But…”

  Amelia nodded. “You’re scared for her.” Sadie said nothing, just rested her head on her lover’s shoulder. Amelia ran a hand through her scraggly hair. “You want a trim?”

  “Can you shave up the sides?” Sadie asked. Amelia nodded. They went to the kitchen. Sadie took off her shirt, down to just her bra as she sat down. Amelia got the scissors and battery-powered razor and gave Sadie a quick haircut.

  “I think you should let your hair grow out a bit,” Amelia said. “Just to see what it’d look like.”

  Sadie shook her head as she got the broom. “It wouldn’t be worth it,” she said. “My hair was wild when I was a kid. My mom couldn’t get a brush through it half the time.” Amelia smiled a little, and Sadie blushed as she started sweeping up her hair. She hardly talked about her mother.

  Sadie wondered how much Amelia knew about Daisy, how much Glenn would have told his young lover about his ex-wife. It made Sadie squirm to think of them talking about her dead mother as they lay in bed together…

  Amelia frowned as she sat down at the table. “You’ve gone all quiet again.”

  “I’ve never really been the chatty type,” Sadie reminded her, a bit more sharply than she meant to. She winced and looked at her lover, who wouldn’t meet her eye. “Sorry,” she added. Amelia just shook her head.

  Sadie put the kettle on. She wondered where her brother was, if he was out playing in the snow, but she said nothing as she joined her lover back at the table. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “It’s just, if there’s something bothering you, you should tell me,” Amelia said. “All we’ve got is each other.”

  “I know,” Sadie said. She reached across the table and took her lover’s hand. “I…I’m just worried about that girl from town.”

  “You never told me about a girl from town,” Amelia said. “She was your friend?”

  Sadie looked away and shrugged. “She just came into the store sometimes,” Sadie said. “Just someone to chat with, a little. I mean, when you hardly know anyone…”

  Amelia smiled a little and squeezed Sadie’s hand. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m pretty invested in the few people I know.”

  Sadie wanted to at least be somewhat honest, so she went on. “And, I don’t know, she mentioned something about this place called Sanctuary Coast,” she said. “Some safe, walled-in community…”

  Amelia gaped at her. “I heard something about that on the radio,” she said.

  “Really?” Sadie listened with her all the time, in the evenings as they sat together on the couch. That was their routine. Sanctuary Coast was never mentioned in the ramblings of some of the DJs.

  “Some woman was going on about it the other day,” Amelia said. “You were out in the garage. I listened, but she sounded pretty nutty. She kept calling it the ‘promised land.’”

  “Sounds like some Glenn bullshit,” Sadie mumbled. Amelia frowned, but did not comment on this. “I just think it’s all rumors.”

  Amelia nodded. “I mean, I guess it’s inevitable that people would gather up and organize somewhere,” she said. “We’ve been doing it for thousands of years.”

  “Rumors and crazy ramblings,” Sadie said. “That wouldn’t be enough for me to risk losing everything.”

  “Me, neither,” Amelia said. Sadie couldn’t help wondering what it would take for her lover to leave the farm.

  She didn’t have the chance to ask, as Christian came in through the back door. Sadie couldn’t believe that he liked being outside when it was so cold out. It was the end of February, or thereabouts, but still uncomfortable most days. He was bundled up in his new coat, the hat and mittens his mother made for him, and his new, oversized boots, certainly wearing three pairs of socks at his mother’s insistence.

  “Where’ve you been?” Amelia asked, getting up to greet her son. She took off his hat, mussing his blonde hair.

  “Just walking around the yard,” Christian said. Sadie found herself wondering what went through her little brother’s mind, during his wanderings. What he was thinking when he looked around at the brick walls that surrounded them.

  “It’s freezing out,” Amelia admonished him. She took his
coat. “Go find something to do while I make lunch.”

  “Can I go in the office?” Christian asked. The office was once Glenn’s territory. Even when Sadie used to go in there to borrow a book, she was sneaky about it.

  “Sure,” Amelia said. Christian went off after he took off his boots, leaving them by the door with the other pairs of shoes, the few pairs they all owned between them. Sadie imagined that he’d be drawing. She found some pictures he drew on yellow lined paper, copying from some of the comics he got from Remy. She figured drawing was good for the kid, even if it wasn’t a particularly useful skill in their world.

  Amelia went into the kitchen, and Sadie got up and followed her, going to pour the tea. “Want any help with lunch?” Sadie asked.

  “I was just gonna heat up some of that noodle casserole stuff,” Amelia said, referring to the stovetop meal mix Sadie managed to get on her last trip to La Ronge. Amelia chuckled. “You’re supposed to add meat to it.”

  “Yeah, right,” Sadie said. She sat at the table with a mug of tea while her lover cooked for them. She looked forward to a brief afternoon fuck, a smoke with her lover, a nap, before getting up and preparing dinner. It was just about the same every day, but it wasn’t so bad, Sadie reminded herself. She wouldn’t gamble it away on the chance that there might be more out there.

  Chapter Seven

  Like Sadie’s family, Amelia’s holed up in their home for several weeks after the bombs fell. They didn’t leave until they were given an evacuation notice, armed military personnel in gas masks coming to the door and telling them to get out, follow the convoy out of San Diego to higher ground.

  Amelia’s family was reassured, hopeful. The world hadn’t completely fallen apart. People were gathering in a safe place. The tank in the SUV was filled, and Amelia’s father had gotten a few containers of gas back when the panic about the bombs first began. Amelia went along and did as she was told, packing and loading up the back of the car with her family. It was like they were going on an adventure. She tried to feel hopeful.

  When Amelia told Sadie the story of her family, their leaving home, never to return, she couldn’t leave Jill out of her story. Jill was her neighbor, a freshman in high school. They’d shared a kiss behind Jill’s shed just a few days before the bombs fell. Amelia didn’t know what became of any of her friends since the war began and ended, since the dead began to walk and feed, but it was Jill she was thinking of as her family followed a long line of slow-moving cars out of San Diego proper.