Read In the After for Free Online Page B

moon is only a sliver in the sky, providing the most cover of darkness. They are coming to the cities from the country. They figure if anyone else is alive, this is where they’ll be. They don’t seem to understand that it is also where the creatures prefer to live and feed.
    I develop a system for dealing with strangers. I never show myself to groups of people. A group is more likely to turn on me, try to steal my resources for themselves. I read a book once about mass hysteria, how people can do anything if others are doing it too. In the After, even three people can be considered a mob, and I’m not taking any chances.
    I avoid lone men for obvious reasons. I sometimes make my presence known to women, depending on how scrawny they look, how much they seem to need assistance. I don’t speak to them, but I let them see me. I nod and motion toward a sewer drain, make a cutting sign across my throat. They get the picture. I also point in the direction of the lake and pretend to drink a glass of water. I always make Baby hide when there are people around. You never know who you can trust.
    Poor Baby. I look at her sometimes and think about my own childhood. I used to go to the zoo and shop on weekends with my friends. Baby tags along with me to silently scavenge dead people’s homes. I had pizza and home-cooked meals. She has canned food and badly charred squirrel that we catch in rattraps. I had two loving, if a little wacky, parents. She only has me.
    Most important, I had sunlight. Now we both live in a dark world. We go to the roof sometimes, during the day, but I find it eerie. The silent city, Them shuffling underneath us. At night we can at least make some noise. We discovered that They ignored the hum of the air conditioner or the heat pumping through winter, but they came running when the microwave beeped. I was confident the fence would hold, but I didn’t know for how long, so it was better not to test it. We learned to do everything as quietly as possible. We live like monks. Silent, pasty, scared monks.

    What’s this one about? Baby asks, handing me a book. I glance at it: Pride and Prejudice .
    It’s about two people who love each other but are too stupid to figure it out until the end of the story .
    Baby looks disappointed. But , I add, the woman is very smart and the man is very handsome .
    What’s that? She points at the cover: Mr. Darcy on a horse. I grab the sign language dictionary and look up the word horse to show her.
    They’re from Before , I tell her. That’s what I usually say when I don’t know how to explain something, like airplanes and Christmas.
    She nods and looks at the horse longingly. I smile. I guess every little girl wants a horse, even ones who don’t know what a horse is. I wonder if there are any horses left. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a dog. There are cats around, ones feral enough to make it on their own. Cats have the right combination of animal characteristics to survive Them. They are silent and like to hang out in trees. Birds do well, too. Dogs and larger animals, not so much.
    And this one? Baby asks.
    Too old , I tell her. I’m not up to explaining the entire plot of The Merchant of Venice . Greed, revenge, and racism are topics for another day.
    Baby tugs on my sleeve, points to a new book. I scan the cover. This one is about a monster , I say without thinking, pausing at Baby’s horrified expression. Monster was the word I’d assigned to Them.
    Not a monster , I correct myself. I meant a thing . . . . How could I explain Frankenstein to someone who has seen real monsters?
    It’s a story from Before . I take the book from her and place it high up on the shelf. Now, this is a good one . I hand her a picture book that I loved when I was growing up, one I asked to be read to me every night for a year. The Little Mermaid . I let her look at the pictures and tell me how the story goes. Her version is a lot happier than the Hans Christian Andersen