The Time After

Writing Back

I found your letter today. It was written on a sheet of paper from The Time Before and had faint blue lines going across it. I have only seen paper like that once before, when I holed up in a building full of large rooms each with a lot of desks and giant boards in them that had faint remnants of words still scrawled across them. I think the sign outside said “Heritage Elementary School” or something like that. I spent a few years there and used the books to learn to read. I’m not sure why I did that. Curiosity about The Time Before, I guess.

Anyway, the note wasn’t addressed to anyone in particular. I couldn’t even tell if the person who wrote it was a girl, a boy, or one of the in-betweens. I guess it doesn’t matter, but your letter made me feel something. So I guess I wish I could meet you. You sound a lot like me, though I had a big sister to look after me. Maybe my life was easier in some ways because of that. Something about the account the person wrote made me want to sit down and tell my story, too.

I was 5 when the adults disappeared. I remember it like it was a dream. I’m not even sure anymore how much of it is memory and how much is my mind filling in blanks. But I remember my mom. Some people retain the memory of someone’s voice after everything else has faded. Some remember a smell. I remember her face. She was soft, kind, and round. She had these amazing greenish-blue eyes that I used to stare at for as long as she’d let me. They sparkled when she smiled, and glittered when she laughed. Her teeth were all jagged in her mouth like a range of mountains squashed together, and her nose was squashy and off-center. I liked to poke it and she’d make a loud “Boop!” sound. That used to make me belly laugh. I don't think I've belly laughed like that since The Culling.

I don't remember my dad much. He wasn't around often. My parents divorced before I was born, so it was just me, Mom, and Kelly. I was really lucky that Kelly was spared. Her 11th birthday was the day after The Culling. I have no clue how those bastards knew about birthdays, or could tell she was just a day shy. But apparently that one day was enough to spare her.

We were actually cleaning the house the day it happened. Mom used to try to make things like that as fun as she could, probably to make sure we'd help. We were blasting music and dancing through the house with vacuums, brooms, and spray bottles getting ready for Kelly's party the next day. To this day the song that was on when Mom disappeared (I prefer that word to "died") plays in my head from time to time. "Promiscuous Girl" by Nelly Furtado. My mom was crazy about the classic pop music from the turn of the century. I was shocked when I learned what the words meant. It totally changed how I remembered my mom. I still like the song, though.

I remember seeing her, hips swinging, using the end of the broom as a microphone, and then she just… froze. For a second she stood there, frozen, the shock registering in her eyes. Then she began to shimmer with the weirdest glow of energy around her. It was a shifting rainbow of colors, sliding and pulsing around her. Then she was… gone. No sound, no warning, just empty air where she used to be. The broom dropped to the floor; at least it must have though I don't remember the clatter of it falling.

The next second we heard the voice. It was coming from outside, so Kelly and I ran to the sliding door and threw it open. I remember thinking mom would yell at me for opening it so hard. We looked up into the sky and saw massive strangely-shaped metal ships in the sky. I couldn't see how many there were, but there were at least 3 visible between the tall buildings. We lived on the bottom floor of a 40 storey apartment building in the heart of Portland, so we couldn't see much of the sky from our little porch.

The voice was loud, and yet crystal clear. It was almost like hearing it in your head or from someone standing right next to you, rather than being blasted on loudspeakers. I wish I could remember what they said. Then I might know why they took my mom from me. All I remember is that they had a reason that didn't make much sense. As soon as the speaker was done, the ships began slowly rising up into the sky and then they just… vanished. No blip of light as engines fired, no sound of roaring and acceleration. Just like when Mom was gone, only without the shimmer.

I spent the next few hours in shock. I stood there, waiting. I don't know what I was waiting for, but I stared into the sky, mouth hanging open, drool eventually dripping out of the corners of my mouth since I didn't move even to swallow. It was Kelly that brought me inside. She tried several times before I let her move me. I didn't close my mouth for a while. I'm actually kind of embarrassed about that, so I don't know why I'm writing it here. My shirt was soaked with drool when I finally closed my mouth.

My shirt didn't get a chance to dry out, though, because as soon as my mouth was closed the tears began. I bawled so hard my stomach hurt. That made me bawl even harder until I was retching. I hadn't eaten since that morning, and by then it was late at night, so there was nothing in my stomach to expel, but it tried anyway. Luckily that didn't last long. Once I finally stopped gaping and crying and retching, I realized I was exhausted. So I stood up, climbed up to my bunk in the room I shared with my sister, and fell asleep.

When I woke up, Kelly had made breakfast. She loved to cook with Mom, so she knew how. Of course, I woke up thinking it had all been a bad dream, so I expected to see Mom in the kitchen. When I saw Kelly instead, I asked her if Mom was still asleep. She just looked at me and I knew it had all been real. Mom and every other human on Earth older than my sister were gone. Happy birthday to Kelly…

We didn't celebrate her birthday for a few years after that. How can you celebrate anything the day after the anniversary of billions of deaths? But then one year she looked at me and said, "I think we need to celebrate my birthday this year. We can remember Mom on Culling Day, and then celebrate life the next on my birthday." That was her 16th. We had finally had a year of calm, the dark years were over, and we needed some hope. I still celebrate her birthday, even though she's gone.

That's another story for another letter. Maybe I'll write it someday.

These days I wander between communities, trading and bartering the various things I find on my travels. I don't often come this way, on account of it's so far off the main route between communities. I'm not sure what brought me here, either. But I'm glad I came. I'm glad I found your letter, and I hope you find mine. If you do, write me another. I'll stop by again sometime to check. Until then, keep fighting. You're my new hope.