Read Online In the After by Demitria Lunetta - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Demitria Lunetta
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she yelps with a start.
She puts her hand to her chest. Amy scared Amber .
Sorry , I sign. Come .
She follows me upstairs and out into the yard. I show her the no-kill rattrap. Just another thing she has to learn.
Dinner , I tell her.
She scrunches up her nose. I show her how to open the trap, pleased that it caught a rabbit this time. They sometimes burrow under the fence without getting shocked. I reach in quickly and pull it out by its neck, while it squirms. I put one hand on its head and twist as Amber watches, horrified, and I remember the first time I had to kill an animal. I placed the trap, baited it with peanut butter, and waited. It was a pigeon that time. My hands shook when I tried to kill it; I nearly gave up. I almost let it go. I cried afterward and didnât set another trap for a week. All I could think about was bird-watching with my father and his constant concern with preserving nature and the environment. Now all I am concerned with is self-preservation.
Amber looks like she is about to be sick. It has to be done , I tell her. The little meat we get, no matter how scarce, is welcome. I show her how to skin and clean the rabbit, but I let her go after that. She is a bit pale and looks like she can use the break. I salt the rabbit and place it in the oven to cook.
When I go to the basement, I find Amber and Baby deep in conversation, as deep as two people who donât understand each other very well can be.
âYou would like my brother,â Amber whispers. âHeâs real good with little kids.â She signs what words she knows, which are only real, good , and like .
Baby thinks she is talking about her and grins. I really like you too, Amber .
I wonder how often Amber whispers to Baby. If she keeps it up, Baby will begin to understand English. I wonder if sheâll start to talk then, or if the silence has become a part of her.
I step to back away, but Baby hears me and looks up. She narrows her eyes at me, and Iâm shocked to realize that sheâs unhappy that Iâm there. She wants to be alone with Amber. I feel as if Iâve been spying.
It was a rabbit , I sign.
I know, Amber told me . Her guarded look fades, but Iâm still left with an uneasy feeling.
No whispering , I sign to them both. Baby nods quickly, ashamed, while Amber just shrugs.
Not bad now . She means there is no harm in whispering in the basement.
Whispering is always bad. Always bad . I repeat it so she gets the picture. I go upstairs and sit at the kitchen table. For the first time ever with Baby, I am the outsider.
It is a couple of weeks after Amberâs arrival before we need more supplies; Iâve put it off for as long as I can. I wanted Amber to settle in before we left her alone, but we need more food. Amber has used most of the shampoo and soap, and Baby is starting to complain that her clothes donât fit. She grew like crazy as soon as the weather warmed up, getting taller and thinner. Also, we have to start collecting and hoarding supplies for the winter, although it is months away. Once it snows, itâs impossible to walk outside without making noise.
I write Amber a note, explaining that Baby and I need to get supplies. I watch her read it, her smile disappearing as her face changes from excited to disappointed.
You leave Amber? she asks unhappily.
Yes, we have to. We need food . I point back at the note. Iâve explained it all.
Amber come . She starts to walk toward the door where Baby stands, ready to go.
I put my hand on Amberâs shoulder. No .
Why?
I look at her. Sheâs learned a lot about how we live day to day, but she is still clueless about the world outside our house. Our home is paradise compared to the real After. Amber is like a child, and even Baby has better survival skills.
Itâs dangerous. Dangerous is a word she knows. Iâve used it often.
Please , she signs. âI canât stay here alone,â she whispers
She puts her hand to her chest. Amy scared Amber .
Sorry , I sign. Come .
She follows me upstairs and out into the yard. I show her the no-kill rattrap. Just another thing she has to learn.
Dinner , I tell her.
She scrunches up her nose. I show her how to open the trap, pleased that it caught a rabbit this time. They sometimes burrow under the fence without getting shocked. I reach in quickly and pull it out by its neck, while it squirms. I put one hand on its head and twist as Amber watches, horrified, and I remember the first time I had to kill an animal. I placed the trap, baited it with peanut butter, and waited. It was a pigeon that time. My hands shook when I tried to kill it; I nearly gave up. I almost let it go. I cried afterward and didnât set another trap for a week. All I could think about was bird-watching with my father and his constant concern with preserving nature and the environment. Now all I am concerned with is self-preservation.
Amber looks like she is about to be sick. It has to be done , I tell her. The little meat we get, no matter how scarce, is welcome. I show her how to skin and clean the rabbit, but I let her go after that. She is a bit pale and looks like she can use the break. I salt the rabbit and place it in the oven to cook.
When I go to the basement, I find Amber and Baby deep in conversation, as deep as two people who donât understand each other very well can be.
âYou would like my brother,â Amber whispers. âHeâs real good with little kids.â She signs what words she knows, which are only real, good , and like .
Baby thinks she is talking about her and grins. I really like you too, Amber .
I wonder how often Amber whispers to Baby. If she keeps it up, Baby will begin to understand English. I wonder if sheâll start to talk then, or if the silence has become a part of her.
I step to back away, but Baby hears me and looks up. She narrows her eyes at me, and Iâm shocked to realize that sheâs unhappy that Iâm there. She wants to be alone with Amber. I feel as if Iâve been spying.
It was a rabbit , I sign.
I know, Amber told me . Her guarded look fades, but Iâm still left with an uneasy feeling.
No whispering , I sign to them both. Baby nods quickly, ashamed, while Amber just shrugs.
Not bad now . She means there is no harm in whispering in the basement.
Whispering is always bad. Always bad . I repeat it so she gets the picture. I go upstairs and sit at the kitchen table. For the first time ever with Baby, I am the outsider.
It is a couple of weeks after Amberâs arrival before we need more supplies; Iâve put it off for as long as I can. I wanted Amber to settle in before we left her alone, but we need more food. Amber has used most of the shampoo and soap, and Baby is starting to complain that her clothes donât fit. She grew like crazy as soon as the weather warmed up, getting taller and thinner. Also, we have to start collecting and hoarding supplies for the winter, although it is months away. Once it snows, itâs impossible to walk outside without making noise.
I write Amber a note, explaining that Baby and I need to get supplies. I watch her read it, her smile disappearing as her face changes from excited to disappointed.
You leave Amber? she asks unhappily.
Yes, we have to. We need food . I point back at the note. Iâve explained it all.
Amber come . She starts to walk toward the door where Baby stands, ready to go.
I put my hand on Amberâs shoulder. No .
Why?
I look at her. Sheâs learned a lot about how we live day to day, but she is still clueless about the world outside our house. Our home is paradise compared to the real After. Amber is like a child, and even Baby has better survival skills.
Itâs dangerous. Dangerous is a word she knows. Iâve used it often.
Please , she signs. âI canât stay here alone,â she whispers
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