Afterland (18 page)

“Okay, gang,” Mike says, lowering his shades. “Let’s move.” The three snowmobiles ride off into the distance and the rest of us wave until they disappear. We begin to disperse back to our planned activities for the day.

“Hey, Smaller Sally, are you and Mike, um…”

“Together? Yeah.”

“Oh. Cool. I didn’t know.”

Smaller Sally raises her eyebrows.

“Really? It’s pretty obvious.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You know how we spend all of our free time together? We eat together. We even hold hands occasionally. Oh, and this is a fairly reliable sign: we share a tent.”

“I just didn’t want to make assumptions! And I get your point: I’m socially awkward.”

“You’re not
that
socially awkward, Molly,” Smaller Sally laughs. “At least, not in comparison to your other forms of awkwardness.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Anyway, on a less Molly-mocking note, you seem worried. You’re afraid because of the raid, yes?”

“Yeah. You’re not?”

“No. You shouldn’t be either.”

“I can’t help it. What if they don’t come back? What if somebody gets hurt? You never know.”

“Don’t be such a worrywart. I’ve been here since the beginning. In that time, we carried out…” she looks up, as if calculating, “I don’t know, probably several hundred raids. Or maybe less. I’m not sure. I can’t really count that well. Anyway, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is, some of the raids have been ridiculously dangerous. Some of them, not so much. This one is on the safest end of the spectrum. They’ll come back. They’ll always come back safe. Promise.” She crosses her heart.

“You’re saying that in all these hundreds of raids, nobody has gotten hurt? Everyone came back, all in one piece?” Smaller Sally’s body tenses up and I can see her fingers curl up at her side.

“Yes, everyone came back safe,” she says after a pause.

“You’re lying.”

“No, why would I be?” She spews out quickly.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“No, you’re not. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Listen, it’s no big deal. In the beginning, there were some...” she says, vaguely without finishing her sentence.

“What does that mean,
There were some
?” I prod her anxiously.

“Nobody’s gotten hurt for a long time,” she says. “And besides, this is one of the safer ones. No anticipated fighting. All they’re doing is sabotaging a power line. It’s not even guarded. Don’t worry about them. They’ll probably be back for dinner.”

“Okay…” I say, still suspicious. “You sure?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Fine, I’ll take your word for it. I guess. Now I’ll spend the rest of the day shooting things in worried angst.”

Smaller Sally laughs.

“Have fun and don’t kill anyone.”

“I’d be more worried about Emily killing me if I’m late for training,” I say. “See you later.”

Emily takes me back up to the Field of Hope, where we duel with blunt wooden knives.

“Focus,” Emily says, pressing her knife against my throat.

“Yeah,” I say distractedly.

“Let’s try again.” She hands me back the knife and we begin fighting again. Within several seconds, Emily has her knife at my throat again.

“For Christ’s sake, Molly.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Sorry. I’ll pay attention this time.” I manage to keep Emily’s knife away from my throat for a full fifteen seconds before she has both of our knives in a cross below my chin. She sighs.

“Listen, Molly, you’re clearly not focused on this.” I nod. “You’re thinking about the raid, aren’t you?” I nod again. “You shouldn’t be, but clearly, I can’t force you to focus on this. Drink some water, take some deep breaths, and go be distressed somewhere where I won’t accidentally kill you.”

“Sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so out of it.” Emily raises one eyebrow as if she knows something that I don’t.

“I’ll let it slide for today.”

“Thanks,” I say, and leave the Field of Hope. I go to the Field of the Fallen, take out my crossbow and absentmindedly shoot the cutouts, one after another, until every one of them has a bolt protruding through their heart. It’s very strange to do it alone. I’m used to someone criticizing me, or perhaps telling me to move my arm a bit to the left. Even just the sound of another human breathing would be welcome. It suddenly begins to bother me how unalive all of the cutouts are.

I shoot them in their wooden stomachs.

The wood splinters. Bob is dead.

I shoot again, two bolts in rapid succession. Anne and Jan are dead.

I recock the crossbow. Elle is dead.

Sam is dead.

Of course, it doesn’t matter. They were never alive anyway.

I recock my crossbow and shoot the last one, Tom, in the leg. Tom is still alive. Alive, but in great pain.

Those are all the bolts I have. I pull them all out from the wood and shoot again. I let the satisfying smack of metal against wood and the monotonous action of cocking and recocking clear my mind. I don’t keep track of the time. Time seems to fade. The sound of my shots echo in the empty clearing.

Camp without Matt, Mike, and Nathan seems very empty. Where are Matt’s quiet footprints around the edge of the clearing? Where are Mike’s familiar monologues that I like to roll my eyes at? Where is Nathan’s smile?

I shouldn’t be worried. The last raid they went on ended well. It ended with my presence here.

Am I worried I’ll be replaced?

Whatever. I’d be happy for their return with or without somebody new, somebody better than me.

I just wish that everything didn’t make me so nervous.

I hear footsteps. Anna.

“It’s time for lunch,” she says.

“Oh, okay.”

We walk back to camp. I look up at the sun. This is the first time I’ve been late for a meal.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask.

She shrugs.

“I figured.”

I slowly crack each of my knuckles.

“Anna, will they be safe? Will they come back?”

“Yes,” she says, and the conviction in her voice stops me from asking more. We continue walking.

“There you are!” Big Sal shouts when we come in. “Hurry up, steak’s getting cold.” I take out my knife and spear one of the two remaining pieces of meat. I eat quickly, thank Big Sal hastily, and await dinnertime with stark impatience. Since Mike isn’t here, the time when we would be training is free for me to fill.

I slip away towards the oak tree where Nathan and I play guitar. I step over the stones of the river alone, without the familiar grip of Nathan’s hand. I jump down the hill, and walk up to the oak tree. I run my hand over the familiar cracked texture of its bark. I close my eyes and breath in its mossy scent. I’m not sure why I came here, but it does make me feel better, if only a little. The worry doesn’t go anywhere, but it’s easier to push it to the obscure edges of my mind. I sit down with my back to the trunk and stare blankly out into space.

Why do I feel so empty?

I remember that I said, once, that emptiness is easy fill. I was wrong, in a way.. Emptiness might be easy to fill when there wasn’t anything there in the first place. Filling is easy. Replacing is not.

I take off my boots and let the air filter through my woolen socks. They still feel restricting, so I slip them off as well, and wiggle my toes around. I stand up and walk several circles around the tree. The sun is setting. I sigh.

Smaller Sally said that the raiding party would be back for dinner. Dinner is in two and a half hours. That’s an awfully long time to wait.

I wish Mike hadn’t gone on the raid. I would still be nervous, of course, but perhaps he would deliver another life lesson that would distract me from this.

I sit back down and pull on my socks and boots again. I wring my hands and sigh. My impatience spikes. I stand back up and walk several more circles around the tree.

They’ll come back safe,
I tell myself.
Nobody is worried. Besides, this is a safe raid. Everybody said so.

But  I don’t feel any less uneasy. I logically understand that they aren’t doing anything dangerous, but I can’t help but worry. There are too many
what if
s, too many unpredictable variables. How can anybody guarantee their safety? And Smaller Sally said that there were
some
in the beginning. What does that mean? What if it happens again? She was reluctant to admit it, too. What happened in the beginning that she won’t tell me? I wish now I hadn’t asked; it’s only making me worry more.

But I have the right, don’t I? openly defying the CGB is punished by execution. And the Rebellion is hunted viciously. What if Mike, Nathan, and Matt are caught? They won’t survive. They’ll die brutally.

Hangings, shootings, drowning, poisoning, starvation… So many ways to die. So many ways to be killed.

Stop thinking about that, Molly!
I shout at myself.

But I can’t.

For another hour, I pace around the tree, sit down again. twist my fingers around, and try to keep my mind off of the raid. I should do something more productive, but all I can think about are the dangers facing our raiding party, and my worry only grows.

An hour and a half before dinner, I head back to camp. I don’t want to miss them when they do arrive. With a little extra effort, I pull myself up the hill, cross the river, and come into camp. It is completely empty; everybody else is at one of the fields, training. Only I spend my time completely uselessly. All I do is wait, and wait, and wait.

I sit on a log and stare out at the road where they left, tracing the snowmobile tracks with my eyes.

All I can do right now is wait.

In several minutes, Big Sal comes out of the forest carrying a basket of mushrooms.

“If you sit around in the cold too much, you’ll become infertile,” she scolds me.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. My mother used to tell me that, way back in the day. You still worried about the raid?”

“Mhhm.”

“I’m sure that multiple people have told you not to worry.”

“Mhhm.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t work.”

“Mhhm.”

“In that case, help me wash these mushrooms,” she says, and points to a small kettle, half full with water.

“Oh. Sure,” I say, rolling up my sleeves. I grab a handful of mushrooms and swish them around in the cold water. Big Sal starts a fire and puts a large pan on it.

“After you wash them, cut them into the pan. We’re having fried mushrooms tonight.” The monotonous task of washing mushroom takes my conscious mind off of the raid for several minutes, but the nagging worry in the back of my head persists.

As I wash the mushrooms, Big Sal takes out a large pan and pours several tablespoons of oil into it. She cuts up an onion. It immediately begins to sizzle. I clumsily start cutting up the mushrooms. I’m used to doing it on a board, so my movements are uncoordinated.

“For goodness’ sake, Molly.” Big Sal takes the knife and the kettle of mushrooms and dexterously cuts them over the pan. She covers it with a metal lid and lets it stand. After they have cooked for a while, she adds salt, pepper, and several sauces. A delicious smell rises from the pan. My mouth waters. By this point, people have begun returning from their training. They all crowd around the pan.

“Stand back. Do you want your sweat in your food?” Big Sal says, pushing everyone back with her right hand. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes. You can wait that long.”

Everyone grumbles, but steps back a little. At last, Big Sal proclaims the mushrooms ready and allows everybody back toward the pan, with the usual accompanying warnings to keep the line straight. I claim my dinner and sit down next to smaller Sally.

“You said they would be back for dinner.”

“I said ‘around dinner’. There’s a difference.”

“No, you said ‘for dinner’. Where are they?”

“Well, dinner is still going on, isn’t it?”

I grudgingly leave her alone and stare back out at the snowmobile tracks.

“You gonna eat or no?” Smaller Sally asks finally.

“Oh. Um…”

“Eat, Molly. There’s not going to be any more food until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” I say, and slowly begin to eat. After I finish, I look around, almost as if expecting them to pop out of the ground.

“Dinner’s over. Where are th-”

“Molly! For Christ’s sake! I gave you an estimate. Chill out!”

“Sorry.”

After what seems like an agonizing eternity but couldn’t have been more than half an hour in reality, a faint buzzing begins to sound from the distance. I stand up. The buzzing grows louder until it’s unmistakably the sound of a snowmobile. My heart beats with trepidation and tentative relief. The rest of the camp stands up as well. My feet carry me a few steps forward. Finally, the snowmobiles emerge from the woods, one by one. Mike...Matt...and Nathan. I allow myself to breathe out. The tension on my chest turns into a sharp pain for a moment and then disappears altogether as relief and adrenaline surge through my body.