Afterland (12 page)

              Mike doesn’t speak about the past at all. He talks only of training and raids and what must be done right now, or better, sooner than that. He talks often of morals, and how the main distinguishing feature of the Rebellion from other anti-CGB groups is that we aren’t powered by revenge, but by justice. Sometimes I think he isn’t talking so much to me as to himself, or maybe even someone else, using me more as an excuse to repeat the words. I do listen, even if I am only a place holder. Often, it sounds almost as if he is rehearsing an apology.

Mike’s insane.

I think sometimes, he can’t help but question his own morals and he feels the need to justify his actions. To convince himself that he’s doing right by the unspoken laws of justice and to get rid of the regret and the guilt and all the other emotions that he keeps bottled up inside of him. I can see it in his eyes, just a hint of it; of all the pain he pretends he doesn’t have.

He creeps me out, maybe more than just a little, but I do respect him for all the strength he possesses and how carefully he hides all of his insecurities to be a better leader.

In reality, everyone in the Rebellion is incredibly strong. I can see the same repressed shadow of pain in all of their eyes. But shadows are afraid of the light, and everyone’s eyes are lit up by a fiery determination. All of us have known suffering and fear and pain and all of us have survived it and chosen the path that would most likely bring more of the same. We are all bound together by our fierce passion to survive in a better world.

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              After my first week, Mike assigns me my outpost times. Every odd-numbered week, I man the outpost during the Thursday night shift. Every even-numbered week, my shift falls on Thursday during the day. My first shift falls during the night. Big Sal makes me a large cup of tea and pours it into a thermos. Rebekah walks me to the outpost. It is hidden in the thick branches of the large pine tree that she pointed out on my first day of training.

Kristina has the shift before me. When we arrive, I look up, searching for the outpost. Suddenly, a rope ladder is thrown from the top. I crane my neck to see where the ladder came from, but nothing is visible.

“You can’t see it from the ground,” Rebekah explains. “It is well made, yes?
Sehr Schlau.
”

After a minute, Kristina appears on the ladder and drops beside us.

“Hey, Molly. Rebekah. Your first shift?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Being up so high might be a little intimidating at first, but you’ll get used to it quickly. Watch.”

She explains that there are two platforms: one to survey the forest ground and one that rises above the rest of the treetops. After I reach the first platform, I’m supposed to pull the ladder back up and lower it only when Smaller Sally takes the next shift. I look at the ladder shaking in the wind and feel my heart rate rise a little.

“Um...Any tips how to climb this?”

“Don’t fall off?” Kristina offers.

“Oh. Well. Okay.”

              The sun hasn’t quite set yet, sending its last warm glow towards us. It is pleasantly cool. I hang my snowshoes on my back and begin to climb the rope ladder. Its unsteadiness unnerves me and I often grab the knotted bark of the tree for support. Every gust of wind makes me nervous, as it sends ripples through the ropes holding the ladder together. I can’t help but look down; it is a long drop. Even though my feet and hands move quickly, my natural instinct of self-preservation doesn’t like heights.

              I understand what Kristina meant about it being intimidating. Looking down and seeing how small everything is makes me feel insignificant. But, somehow, it simultaneously makes me feel much more important. I feel like a smaller part of a bigger plan.

I reach the top. The outpost itself is a platform circling the trunk. It is guarded by a wooden railing. The top of the ladder is tied through the floor of the platform. Another ladder of the same design leads to the very top of the tree. Several flares are bound to the railing. Rebecca explained to me along the way that they are meant to alert the camp in case of emergencies. Also bound to the railing is a pair of binoculars. I turn them around several times in my hands before looking through them, examining the trees. They show me the details of pine trees half a forest away. I turn them towards camp and smile at the bustle going on. There’s Big Sal at the fire. There’s Desmond with his fiery hair. There are Mike and Smaller Sally discussing something with exaggerated hand gestures.

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”

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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.”