Read Afterland for Free Online Page A

advantage of my hesitation to lean forward and close the last few centimeters between us.
                  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess just something… different.”
                  “Well, here we are. Are you going to let us in or not?”
                  “Um...yes,” I say forgetting myself. “Wait, no.” I grab the handlebar again in a vain attempt to reassert dominance. It is too late, of course. He can already see that he’s won.
    “You can stay one day, and then you leave. And you don’t touch anything while you’re here. One complaint, and I will personally slit all your throats. Are we clear?”
                  “All right.”
                  “Do you doubt me?”
    He looks at me critically, then decides.
                  “Yes. Alright, gang, let’s move.” The four riders rev their snowmobiles forward, leaving behind a trail of disturbed snow. As they leave, my thinking begins to clear again.
                  Dear lord, I think coughing as my lungs fill with gas. I just let the Rebellion into Hopetown.
     
     
    CHAPTER 3
     
    When I return to Hopetown, the gate is still closed and the snowmobiles wait in front of it. One of the watchmen leans over the wall and shouts at me.
                  “They say you let them in. We thought they killed you.”
                  “No, I’m still alive,” I say with the same disbelief as the watchman.
                  “They say they’re on a mission from the CGB headquarters. Is that true?”
    I glance over at the man on the first snowmobile and he nods.
                  “Yes.”
                  “You sure?”
                  “Yes.”
    “You better be really goddamn sure about this!”
                  “Yeah, I am,” I say absentmindedly, still looking at the snowmobiles.
                  “Okay, then,” the guard stands suspiciously. “Stand back. We’re opening the Gate.” We move aside as the Gate creaks and rises up. The snowmobile rider turns around and smiles at me. Then, the four of them ride inside, leaving a trail of snow.
                  “You better hope to God they don’t screw anything up!” the guard shouts at me.
                  “They won’t,” I say, and run inside. I run to my house, not paying attention to everyone else. I know they’re all looking at me anyway, stares filled with eager accusation. They need someone to blame. Why not let it be me?
                  But in this situation, it really is me.
    My mother is waiting for me at the door of our house, her hands crossed, biting her lip in anger. Her normally calm gray eyes are clouded with the same accusation as the rest of the townspeople.
                  “Molly, what did you do?” The vehemence in the voice I’ve always associated with calm and comfort draws me back into the reality of the situation and dissipated the godlike feeling that came with the events of the last several minutes.
                  “What?” I say, dodging her gaze. “We’re all supposed to support each other, right? They seemed harmless. They just want lodging.”
                  “No! You have no way of knowing that. If anyone gets hurt, it’s on your head.”
                  “I know, mom.”
    “Do you? Are you ready to accept that responsibility?”
    “They won’t hurt anyone.”
    “Really? How can you be sure?”
    Because they’re the Rebellion, Mom. Don’t you see? They can’t hurt anyone. They’re the only ones that can help us.
    Because if they do, I’ll lose all of the hope I had left, and that can’t happen. It won’t happen.
    “You don’t even know who they are!” my mother shouts. I falter. Somehow, telling her their identity would be betraying them. She sees the hesitation in my eyes and