In the After by Demitria Lunetta Read Free Book Online Page B

really, maybe a few years older than I am. Her face is slack, her eyes dull. I take my hand off her mouth and rest it on Baby’s trembling shoulder. I need to distract her, to distract myself.
    What was that story, from the other day? I ask. The one about the mermaid .
    Baby puts her hand in mine. The fish princess lived in the lake, where no monsters could reach her . Baby’s eyes are closed, her lips parted slightly.
    For the moment she is at the bottom of the sea with the mermaid, not hiding in a bush watching aliens pig out on other aliens. She expands on her earlier story, explaining in detail the lives of the little mermaid’s sisters. “Sister” was the sign I’d taught Baby for what we are to each other.
    I feel her fingers move against my hand, relaying her story in a language only we understand. The movement is comforting, but I remain tense and anxious as we wait for Them to leave. I have no idea what to do with the girl lying beside us.

    It is almost dawn before the creatures clear out. Baby has fallen asleep, so I shake her awake. I stand and stretch, my muscles sore from sitting in the same position for too long.
    What about her? Baby points to the girl, awake but unmoving. I shrug.
    Leave her . My main concern is getting Baby back to the house before first light.
    We can’t . Baby’s eyes plead. She’s . . . I can see Baby search for the right word . . . She’s sick .
    I want to tell Baby no, that the girl can’t come with us, but I look into her eyes and I can’t. I think of the time I found her in that grocery store, when I almost left her. The guilt is too much.
    I reach back into the bushes and grab the girl by the wrist.
    “What . . .” she starts to speak. I put my finger over my lips and breathe out slightly. If this girl isn’t going to be quiet, I am going to leave her, no matter what Baby wants.
    Luckily the girl gets the idea and follows us, her shoes thumping on the pavement. I stop her and point at her feet. She looks at me blankly. I hold out my own foot, bare and calloused.
    She quickly slips off her shoes. She holds them in her arms, waiting. I motion for her to follow and we make our way back home.

    “Swanky,” the girl says once we are inside. I look at her, unwilling to speak. Her dark eyes and hair contrast sharply with the whiteness of her skin. She is painfully pale, but then, so am I.
    We should give her food . Baby suggests. I nod and Baby runs to make us breakfast.
    I show the girl to the basement. It used to be my dad’s work space, but Baby and I made it our reading room. I scavenged a ton of pillows to give it an Arabian Nights feel.
    The girl sits on my beanbag chair, unsmiling but not appearing overly distressed. I cross my arms and stare her down.
    She scratches her nose and looks back at me, expecting me to speak. Her dark hair is flat against her head, dirty and oily. She is thin, but not painfully skinny, like most of the survivors I encounter.
    “Look, I didn’t know those guys. . . . Well, actually, I knew one of them. He’s my brother, I . . . do you even understand me?”
    I nod.
    She starts again. “My name is Amber.” She pauses, waiting for me to respond. When I don’t, she narrows her eyes. “I don’t know what all this silent treatment is about, but I don’t like it.”
    I sigh. My silence has kept me alive. I’m not about to break years of habit for a stranger. I lick my lips, my mouth painfully dry . . . besides, I’m not even sure if I can talk anymore, it’s been so long. I go to my dad’s desk and scrounge around for a notepad and pen. I write, We have to be quiet, the creatures are attracted to noise. They know that voices mean people. There is safety in silence . It would be foolish to drop our guard now, to begin speaking aloud. It could be deadly.
    I hand it to Amber and as she reads, understanding dawns on her face.
    “It all makes sense now,” she whispers. Her voice carries through the room, making me