In The Afterlight

It needs three.

Three days for parachutes to start falling from the sky, bringing packages and soldiers in blue United Nations berets into the cities that needed them most.

For a small coalition of foreign leaders to step foot on American soil for the first time in seven years.

For Senator Cruz’s story to be released, and for her to be chosen to oversee the entire country’s restoration process.

For the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to resign, shrugging off the shame and collecting his pension.

For the Armed Forces to issue new orders, and to then realize the men and women who’d left their postings were never coming back.

For the President of the United States of America to disappear off the face of the earth.

For the United Nations to divide the country up into four peacekeeping zones, each overseen by a former senator of that region and a foreign power, and send in troops to oversee the policing.

For the first of nearly a hundred water riots to occur.

For Leda Corp to issue a statement denying their involvement in Agent Ambrosia, but oh-so-generously offering to supply a chemical they claimed could neutralize it.

I read about it in the papers my parents brought in. Watched it on the news. Absorbed this new reality. And that night, when visiting hours were over and two kind-but-firm nurses led my family away, I reached over for the phone on the wall. The painkillers they’d given me were making me drowsy, but I didn’t want to sleep without hearing his voice. Without making sure they were all okay.

I dialed the number and lay back down, the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder. I spun the curling phone cord around my fingers, waiting as it rang...and rang...and rang. And rang.

They’re probably out. Doing...something. I tried not to let myself deflate as I started to reach over to hang the phone back up. I could try again in the morning.

“Hello?” The voice burst through the connection, breathless. “Hello?”

I drew the phone back and smiled as I whispered, “Hi.”

Liam let out a soft breath. “It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

“Better now.”

“I’m so sorry we couldn’t stay. Senator Cruz asked us to come back to the hotel—there’s been—it’s no excuse, but it’s been busy. Both Chubs and Vi said that you’d be mad at us if we didn’t go.”

“They were right.” I settled back down on my side. “What’s been going on? Grams said something about a press conference?”

“Yeah, for the plan. The big plan. It’s been a parade of faces coming in and out—oh, God, and get this. We have a representative in the deliberations.”

“Who?” I asked. If it wasn’t Liam, then...who?

“Guess who opened his big Chubsie mouth and started, in glorious detail, outlining every single thing he thought Senator Cruz should be doing the other night at dinner? It was a magnificent rant.”

I closed my eyes, laughing. “No. Really?”

“Really. She told him that he had to report to the meeting room the next morning,” Liam continued. “He was either elated or irritated by the honor. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with him.”

I listened to the sound of him breathing in the silence that followed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, darlin’, everyone’s fine,” he said, but there was an obvious strain in his voice. “Mom’s getting here tomorrow. She keeps saying that word, too: fine. I’m...I just wish you were here, is all. I’m going to come first thing tomorrow.”

“No,” I said, “first thing in the morning, I’m coming to you.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to meet you halfway,” he said, a laugh tucked into the edge of his voice.

I listened as he told me about the hundred-odd kids who were still waiting to be picked up by their parents. They’d been given free rooms at the hotel, free meals too, and a veritable army of volunteers had come in with supplies and clothes. He told me about catching Vida and Chubs getting handsy with each other in the elevator. Zu’s small shrug when she was told her parents had managed to leave the country, and, until they could be contacted, she had a choice: go home and stay with her aunt, uncle, and Hina, or live with Vida, Nico, and Cate near D.C., so the latter could consult with Senator Cruz. How it hadn’t even taken her a second to settle on D.C.

I told him about my parents. The way the soldiers posted outside of my door peeked in every time it opened. The way the doctor’s hand shook, just a little, as he examined my cuts. And at some point, I felt myself begin to drift off to sleep.

“Hang up, go to sleep,” Liam said, sounding just as tired.

“You hang up.”

And in the end, neither of us did.

The next morning, clear on the other side of town, I sat sandwiched between my parents on a couch in the lobby of a Marriott hotel in Charleston, West Virginia. It was a testament to how packed it was that no one, not a single member of the press, seemed to notice me as we sat there. At about a quarter til, the crowds began to migrate toward the elevators to head up to the large conference room.

As we waited, Mom kept insisting I needed something—water, a snack, a book, some Tylenol—until finally, Dad reached over and placed a calming hand on her arm. I caught him watching me out of the corner of his eye, though, as if he needed to keep checking I was still there. This was how we were warming to each other: slowly, clumsily, earnestly.