Page 30 of Before Their After

An expression of horror crossed over his features as he finished assessing them for any injuries. “She has to go too, Laurel. I want her gone. Now!”

My body shuddered; tears cascaded down my face. I didn’t want to leave. Wasn’t ready to.

Laurel cried with me. “I know,” she said to us both, and my heart broke.

She patched me up, explaining what my nightmares had taken from me. They’d awoken to the sound of me yelling, screaming over the kids’ cots, that they would pay for what they’d taken from me. Not wanting to risk spooking me awake, Laurel had ordered him to take a shot through my shoulder.

A shot he’d very much intended to put through my skull until she’d intervened. She hadn’t told me that part, but I could tell. He was about as okay with my presence as I was with his.

“I could have loved you like you were one of my own,” she said after moments of silence.

I scoffed, not needing her to try to soften the blow. “I find myself being the product of many possibilities. My world is filled with nothing but ‘could,’ Laurel. I understand why I have to go.”

“It’s not what I want. But…” She hesitated. “It’s no longer safe for you to stay.”

For them. Not for me.

I looked at the woman that had helped me. Saved me. The woman I’d grown attached to. “I understand.”

“There’s a settlement out in California,” she rushed out. “They call themselvesMonterey Compound. Heard about it from some travelers a few weeks back. It’s stable. Under good leadership. There are young people there, people your age. I think you should go.”

“If you think I belong there, then I was never close enough to you to be one of your own.”

Laurel glared at me from the side of her eye, knowing my words were bullshit. “It will be good for you. You need to heal, Tomoe, need to be around people your own age. Have a shot atdoing normal things. Don’t you think you deserve a chance to feel safe?”

“Safety is not a luxury I’ve been awarded in a very long time.” It was true.

I hadn’t felt safe in well over a year. The reality was, when your sense of safety was taken from you in your most vulnerable state—in your sleep, when you were surrounded by family—therewasno such thing as safety. Not for me at least, not ever again.

“Well, maybe it’s time that changed.”

“What about you all?” I shot back at her. “You don’t deserve a shot at safety? What makes me so special?”

“Life out here isn’t for everyone, but … now that I’ve got Hal here. Gosh, honestly, kid, I haven’t felt unsafe in a very long time.” She smiled at the thought.

Her second husband had been her saving grace after the sudden death of the first who’d died long before any apocalypse. They’d found each other again out on the road. He’d saved her for a second time, too late to stop the horrible fate bestowed upon her. Damage was already done. But he made damn sure he was there to help her pick up the pieces. They were happy, loved this life. Taking this time to live off the land and see sights that would have taken years to see and days off work.

I knew myself. I’d never feel safe here. Wasn’t sure if I was ever capable of feeling that again. But if I didn’t at least try something else, I wasn’t sure how much longer out there I’d want to last. Bitter goodbyes were exchanged between Laurel and me in the morning. Hal had taken the kids and locked them behind their bedroom door the second the locks on my own door had unlatched. She’d apologized, but I shook it off. Wishing her the best and thanking her for all she’d done.

There were no empty promises of somehow finding each other again. We were not foolish enough to hope for that to betrue. This Transient Nation was big, what was the continental US was even bigger. Even if we did survive another day, the chances of crossing paths again were unrealistic.

Two days later, the exhaustion wore on my already tired soul. I laid under the stars, shivering into myself, possessing nothing but the layers of clothes on my back, whatever food fit into my bag, and my katana. The layers were not nearly enough for the cold reservation land.

I’d told myself I wasn’t heading toward Monterey, was just letting myself go wherever my feet decided to take me that day. That was before I’d found myself along the border of New Mexico and Arizona. A few minutes of travel west in the morning, and I’d cross territory borders.

Closing my eyes, I willed a vision on just as I’d practiced. Figuring out how I could use my powers had been an agonizing effort on an already weak body. I found myself not caring. There was no longer a benefit in leading a life in the dark.

In the following weeks after my family’s death, I blamed myself. Determined I’d been cursed for practicing magic that my mother had spent my life telling me wasn’t natural. Kana and I spent hours into the night lost in lore and practice. Our aunt had fallen prey to dark magic years before as a young girl, my mother had told us. Kana had pushed back that she didn’t understand.

There was nothing inherently dark about paganism. It was what you made of it, your intentions. What my sister and I were doing was what we’d always been meant to do, what our bodies now rewarded us for doing.

That award winning assumption had changed into believing my visions were something of a curse. A punishment for messing with forces beyond what I could fathom. Leaving me unable to help my family when they’d needed me the most, but still forcing me to watch it play out firsthand.

If I could learn to control my curse, there was a chance I’d be able to turn it into a blessing instead. My eyes flickered and my mind went elsewhere.I was happy, surrounded by a group of people, only the backs of their heads visible. One with curly hair, the other with long brown wavy hair. We were sitting on a green patch eating food. Curly hair flew back as the group laughed, someone leaning in to take our picture. A picture? Wow. It’d been ages since I’d considered the thought. The scene flickered.

A man with locs walked next to me in silence on a cobblestone path just as the sun crested over the wall, rising for the day. Then I was sparring with someone, a hand reaching down to my own, the vision changing before I could make out a face once more.

The name Prescott echoed in my head. Another flicker. A tall, lean figured man dipped his cowboy hat in my direction, the only part of his face visible being the sultry smile he tossed my way.

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