Afterland

by Masha Leyfer

  I put the binoculars down I look back at the ground. The angle from which I look allows me to see the entire forest while being completely invisible even to those who know that it is here. It is cleverly done. I pull the ladder back up and show Kristina and Rebekah a thumbs up before realizing that they can’t see me. Once the ladder disappears from their view, they wave at the spot where they know I am and leave.

  I watch them walk away until they disappear among the pine trees, leaving only two trails of footsteps. The ground on the other side is marked by the last traces of yesterday’s footprints and today’s tracks of the natural inhabitants of the forest. The forest is a vast expanse of snow covered conifers crisscrossed with tiny signs of life. The snow reflects the blue light of the sky into faint shadows on the bottom of the tree trunks.

  After I spend enough time surveying the bottom half of the forest, I climb up to the very top and look around. The sky is a blue dome above me, still light at the West, almost completely dark in the East. The first stars have already begun to light up. The clouds drift slowly through the sky like purple feathers, and the forest goes on to the horizon until it is nothing but a green blur. To the West, I can just make out the fire of our camp, gradually getting dimmer and dimmer. Satisfied that there is no visible danger, I climb back down to the first platform, lean against the tree trunk, and settle down to watch.

  The hours pass uneventfully, as they should. The stars gradually take their places in the sky. I wrap my scarf tighter around myself and take a swig out of the thermos of tea Big Sal prepared for me. Around midnight, a light snow begins to fall, painting a transparent veil over the footprints. I pull on my gloves and breathe on my hands to keep them warm. The snowflakes settle on my hair and shoulders. I brush them off absentmindedly and continue watching.

  I climb up to the top. The stars aren’t visible behind the snow clouds. The moon is a dim spot of light. The Rebellion fire is no longer glowing. I assume everybody is asleep. It makes me happy to know that I am watching over it for some reason. I feel needed for the first time in my life.

  Suddenly, I hear a rock hit the lower platform. A voice hisses “Molly, you there?” I quickly climb down. With the dim light of the moon, I can just barely distinguish Nathan’s features.

  “Nathan? Is that you?”

  “Yeah. How are you doing?”

  “What? Me? Fine. I’m good. What’re you, uh, I mean, why are you here?”

  “It gets really lonely up there, especially on the first day. I came to keep you company. Can you let the ladder down?”

  “Oh, um. Sure. Um. I mean. Thank you.”

  I let down the ladder with numb fingers and watch as he climbs up. When he reaches the top, I grab his hand and help him up.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey,” I respond breathlessly. I pull the ladder back up. He doesn’t say any more and neither do I. We look out at the snowy night. The wind is still and the forest silent. The snow falls gently and unobtrusively. Our breath forms little clouds in the air that disperse before the next ones can join them.

  Nathan and I stand next to each other in silence as snow fills the forest and the scent of pine needles fills our lungs. I glance at Nathan nervously, wondering why he came up here, wondering what he wants from me and what I’m supposed to do. But neither of us say anything for the first half hour until I notice Nathan shivering slightly.

  “Nathan, are you cold?”

  “No, not really,” he says, but I can hear the cold invading his voice.

  “Yes, you are,” I frown.

  “No, really, I’m not.”

  “I can see you shivering. Here, take my scarf, at least.”

  “Oh, no, really-” he begins to protest.

  “Nathan, your hands are shaking. Take my scarf.”

  “Really, I’m not that cold-” I tie my scarf around his neck before he can say anything else. He rolls his eyes, but smiles.

  “Thanks.” We stand in silence some more. The snow slowly stops and the skies clear up, revealing the stars again.

  “I’m afraid of heights,” Nathan admits nervously.

  “Really?” I look down at the ground, a world away. “But...I mean, are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He smiles at me. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

  More silence. Nathan’s presence should make me happy and it does, but I am too nervous about nothing to fully appreciate it.

  “Um...Nathan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did you come up here? I mean, it’s cold, and you’re afraid of heights and you could be sleeping.”

  “I didn’t want you to be up here alone.” My breath catches in my throat a little. My heart clenches in my chest and I don’t know what words to use.

  “What? Are you- Nathan, I- I mean, thank you. That means...that means so much.” I stammer. Nathan only shrugs.

  “It’s no big deal.” With every word that he says, I feel more and more indebted.

  “No, no, it is. I- I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything.”

  “Will you let me hug you at least?”

  “Hug me?” He laughs. “Sure, why not?” He wraps his arms around me and I wrap mine around him and for a moment, I’m not even nervous. Just happy. Earnestly happy that he is here, and I am not alone, and that I can share the silence of the forest with him.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, before letting go.

  “Nah, don’t thank me.” I laugh.

  “Who am I supposed to thank, then?”

  “Thank yourself. I didn’t get you into the Rebellion. You did.”

  “Well, I mean. The fact that you rode up to my town on snowmobiles kind of helped.”

  Nathan smiles.

  “And yet you were the only one to meet us.”

  “I kind of thought you would kill me to tell the truth.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Hopetown hasn’t seen a motor vehicle in years and I guess I sort of got used to the good guys loosing. So I assumed that you guys were CGB or bandits or something.”

  “You ran out to meet bandits?”

  “I was hoping to find you or something like you, but I guess...yeah.”

  “You’re one hell of a person, you know that Molly?”

  “Oh. Um. You too.”

  Who would have known that I’m so bad at leading an ordinary conversation?

  “Thanks.”

  We watch the snow fall some more until Nathan speaks again.

  “Did you want to die?

  “What?”

  “You said you were expecting to die. Did you want to?”

  “I...I guess I never thought about that.”

  “Would you have run out if you wanted to live?”

  “I did want to live, Nathan. Just not the way I was already.”

  “Oh.”

  “You never really want to die. You just want a life that you’re willing to live.”

  “Yeah. Well. I guess you’re right. Sorry if that was too personal.”

  “No, no. It’s okay. So, uh, what about you? Um...What did you think of Hopetown?”

  “It was...smelly.”

  I smile.

  “That it was.”

  “But it was alive.”

  “Alive? I wouldn’t say that. There were actual piles of dead people on the streets.”

  “That’s not exactly what I mean. I mean that you all hated the town so much, there were sparks flying. In some places, the people don’t have the energy to hate the CGB anymore. That’s what really gets to me. A life full of hate is better than a life devoid of anything.”

  “Yeah. Well. Hate is very hard to get rid of. Emptiness is easy to fill.”

  “Emptiness is hard to fill with anything good. None of the options that we named are really that great, Molly. Nobody chooses right. We choose survival. And sometimes, survival requires sacrifice. So you choose to be empty, otherwise you’d be dead”

  __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
__ __

  The third week of my training, Mike shows me how to defuse bombs.

  “If you’ve ever heard the trick where there are two wires and you have to cut one of them, ignore that. Bombs haven’t worked like that for a long time. Most of them are pretty basic, mechanical models.” He pulls out a simple pipe shaped container. “They look like this. These are simple. The main point of deactivating tm is to destroy them, to put it simply. Shooting at them usually does the trick. There’s also dynamite.” He pulls out three red tubed tied together. At the end is a rope. “This is just a bunch of explosives. They’re activated by sparks. The fuse here,” he point to the rope, “is lit, and once it reaches the end, the whole thing explodes. If you see this with the fuse lit, put it out. The more complicated ones are digital. Those are a little more difficult to deal with. If you shoot at them, they will explode. Do not meddle with these. They usually have a deactivation code and they are very difficult to hack. If you see a digital bomb, evacuate everyone who may be in the vicinity and find cover.”

  “Wait, so you’re saying we can’t deactivate digital bombs?” I ask.

  “Well...yes. We still haven’t figured out how to do it without the code.”

  “So in the case of a digital bomb, you just run and hide?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well. That’s...encouraging.”

  Mike snorts. “They’re bombs. They’re not supposed to be encouraging. They’re supposed to kill you. If that’s encouraging to you, then you have a serious problem.”

  __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

  Emily begins to teach me how to use swords and knives properly. I get a small dagger to keep at my belt. We train with wooden practice swords in the Field of Hope. We start with simple offense and defense drills; one of us attempts to strike the other on the head, the shoulder, and the stomach. The other is supposed to block it. Then we switch. This is supposed to help me work on my form. After Emily deems my form acceptable, we begin practice fights. Emily always wins, of course.

  This also gives me something new to practice with Nathan. We alternate our practice sessions: one night is dedicated to the crossbow, the next to sword fighting. I don’t remember ever making that decision. Somehow, it just happened. After Nathan’s visit to the lookout post, we’ve been spending more time together, always training, always shooting, always fighting. But I find myself able to laugh full-heartedly and to actually enjoy minutes of my life before I remember that we’re still in a fight for survival.

  This night was a crossbow night. Nathan and I walk back from a day of training in the Field of the Fallen together, both of our supporting arms aching. With the everyday practice sessions, I have become more adept at shooting. I have even developed the beginning of the instinct that everyone keeps telling me I need. I can hit at least near the painted target almost every time.

  “Nathan, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What do you want, more than anything else?”

  He answers immediately.

  “Freedom. We’ve been slaves to the CGB, and to the Eruption, and most of all, to our own fears for so long now. It’s time we take our lives back. You get what I mean?” I nod. “What about you?”

  “Um…” I frown. Maybe I should have thought about it before asking. “I have no idea, to be honest. I suppose I never really thought about it.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “I’m not sure. I should have given it at least some thought, I guess, but I suppose I never really...expected anything that I wanted to be a possibility. Not in Hopetown. So I decided not to raise my hopes and disappoint myself. I didn’t want to have an empty goal to be passionate about. I was always afraid of that.”

  “It doesn’t have to be empty now.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “Think about it. It’s an important part of your personality.”

  “What? My ultimate goal?”

  “Yes. It can say volumes about you.”

  I consider that.

  “You’re right. It’s just...What if I don’t fulfil it? What I do with it says volumes about me too. What I mean to say is that what I don’t accomplish means just as much as what I do. I mean, what if I die knowing I broke the biggest promise I ever made to myself?”

  “Then fulfill it. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Simple,” I scoff. “Not in this world.”

  “See what I mean, Molly? You’re a slave to your own doubts. You have to free yourself from that. You have to open yourself up to the possibility of a happy ending for yourself.”

  “Well, I...Maybe you’re right, but...”

  “But what?”

  “What if something goes wrong?”

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s start with, what if I don’t deserve a happy ending? Don’t tell me that I do.”

  “First of all, you do.”

  I roll my eyes good naturedly.

  “And second?”

  “Second of all, even if you’re ‘undeserving’ now, you still have the rest of your life to fix that.”

  “All right, let’s assume that all of us deserve happy endings in the end. There are still so many things that could go wrong. For example, everyone’s happy ending is different. At some point they’re going to have to start interfering with each other. My point is, it seems that there have to be a limited number of happy endings to prevent an implosion of sorts. That’s what happened with the Blast, I think. Everyone got their happy ending and it was too much for the Earth too handle. I think all our happy ends have already been given to the generations before us.”

  “Do you believe in God?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you worried someone limiting the possible number of happy endings?”

  “Let me rephrase it: What if they’ve all been taken by the generations before us?”

  “The past can’t take away from the future.”

  “No? What did the Eruption do, then?”

  Nathan remains silent for a minute before answering.

  “You’re right,” he concedes finally. “But if they can destroy, then why can’t we be the generation that creates?”

  I frown. I don’t have an answer to that. I’m sure that there is an one, otherwise we wouldn’t still be stuck in this miserable post-blast world. Right? But I can’t think of anything. Why, indeed, can’t we all just get up and fix it? Even if everyone did a small deed, we would be the most powerful force on Earth. We can overthrow the CGB easily. We can earn back our futures. But instead...what? All that power and potential just lies around, dormant, wasted? Why? Because of fear?

  Maybe Nathan is right: we are slaves to our own fear. So the answer to all our struggles is simply that the Blasters were less afraid of change than we are?

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “You win, I guess.” Nathan smiles smugly. I sense a challenge in his mischievous expression to continue the argument.

  “You know what?” I say. “No. I change my mind. I have more questions. We, as a generation, can fix all this. I can accept that. But what about each individual? What if I, as an individual, fail? ”

  “Your own personal happy ending? I’m glad you asked. You’re still alive. You’re already halfway there. Your entire life consists of second chances and the opportunities to fulfill them. The entire purpose of your existence is to take those opportunities, Tell me again why you can’t achieve a happy ending?

  “All right, but what if I miss my chances? What if I waste my life on...something else?”

  “That’s a choice. That you can control.”

  “What if I choose wrong?”

  “You’re assuming that you’re predisposed to chose wrong, when in fact, it’s exactly the opposite. Nobody does anything if it isn’t beneficial to them in some way. All of us are naturally wired to achieve happiness.”

  “That makes sense,” I frown. “But then why are some people not happy in the end?”

  “Well, for
one, they might have just not recognized it. A lot of people get it and simply don’t see it, and by the time they realized that they missed it, they’ve already let it slip through their fingers. Some people are too blinded, by hate, fear, whatever it may be, that they can’t see all of the opportunities they’re rejecting. I never promised everyone a happy ending. What I am saying is that everyone has the chance to reach it, and in the end, it’s only you, yourself, that is standing in your way.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Nathan and I walk back to the camp the next day, our feet moving in unison. I’ve settled into the new rhythm of life completely now and it seems that Nathan has adjusted with me. It’s funny how we form rhythms, even if there is no place for them, I ponder. Despite how much we like to think of ourselves as spontaneous, millions of years of evolution have taught us to seek out patterns. We’ve learned that predictability is good. And perhaps it is. But even if it’s not, our minds can’t help but seek things that they understand. So with rhythms we shall remain, no matter how complicated they may get.

  “I thought about my ultimate goal,” I say.

  “Good. What is it?”

  “I want to make a difference, in whatever way I can. I to be...enough. I want I want to die knowing that I did right. I don’t want to let my life pass by me and die regretting all the chances I didn’t take.” Nathan nods slowly.

  “That’s a good goal,” he says. Then he adds, “You think about death a lot, don’t you?” I laugh.

  “I suppose I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh. Um...Why not?”

  “There is no reason not to, I was just wondering. I tend to avoid the thought of death, actually,” he admits.

  “Oh. Well, I guess it’s because I see things in terms of death. I don’t believe in an afterlife or reincarnation or things of that sort, so death is the ultimate end, and I think that when I die, I’ll understand a lot more in the few minutes before my death than I have in my whole life before that. The end is the...the singularity that we all strive to. I think that that makes the road that we take there equally as important as the singularity itself.” I pause and then add quietly, “Besides that, when I envision myself dying, I envision myself now. Not an old lady. I’ve always done it that way. Death hasn’t really ever been an abstract concept to me, because, well, because I guess I always thought of myself as dying. The dying me has grown along with me. She’s always been an important part of my personality. One that I made a vow to, to never betray it. And it’s a real part of me. Part of me is always...ending. So I guess I do things so that the ending part of me will be proud.”