After: Nineteen Stories of Apocalypse and Dystopia (15 page)

Eppie and her family are going to be away for a couple of days while they go say good-bye
to Eppie’s grandparents. They have to leave Eppie’s little brother with them. He can’t
come because of a heart murmur. Lots of others are off to say good-bye, too. People
over forty aren’t allowed to come. I can see why. They wouldn’t last long enough.

I’m going out to find Mr. O’Brien a good home. (“The dog has got to go. We can’t be
a Noah’s Ark. The Lord will supply the needed animals when we get there.” Actually,
they’re bringing some cows and chickens, but just so as to have eggs and milk for
the trip.) They’re telling us younger ones to get ready to name all the new kinds
of animals we’ll find when we get there. There won’t be any need for meat, so God
will leave those animals out.

I don’t ever need a leash. Mr. O. sticks right by me all the time. I think he remembers
that I rescued him and warmed him with my own body. I’ll bet he remembers sleeping
in that doghouse.

He’s gotten pretty big now, just as I wanted, and he’d willingly die defending me
if he had to. He’s exactly everything I wished for.

It’s so hot, everybody in town is just sort of waiting for it to be fall and be cooler.
The town is all shut up during the heat of the day. Even lots of stores are closed
from noon to three. People are at the movies or sitting next to their air conditions.
Some people spend a lot of time walking up and down in the big cool grocery store
and the Kmart. Eppie says, “Where we’re going it’ll be a wonderful new world like
this one used to be. God will make it so.”

All around town I tell people what a great dog Mr. O. is and why I need to let him
go. After a while I only try where they already have a dog. Nobody wants him, and
lots of times I wouldn’t want him at some of those places either.

When people find out I’m from the end-of-the-world people, they laugh at me. Turns
out they call us crazies. One lady said I looked nice and neat compared to some of
them, though she said Mr. O’Brien looks like he belongs with them. Then she said why
didn’t I clip him some so he’d be more comfortable in this heat. I hadn’t thought
of that. She has three dogs of her own and a big fenced-in yard, and she’s really
nice. She said she boarded dogs and also clipped dogs for people, and she knew I couldn’t
afford it but she’d clip Mr. O. for me anyway.

We went up on her closed-in porch where it was cool, and she got water for Mr. O’Brien
and ice tea for me. There was a parrot there, and she told me to hold out my hand
and he flew right to me. Then she got out her clippers and showed me how he should
be clipped, and even let me do some of it. Mr. O. looked a lot better after we got
through with him. I asked again if she wouldn’t take him. She said she couldn’t afford
the food for such a big dog, and she said she already had two cats and the parrot
and her three terriers and she needed the rest of her space for boarding. Then she
says, “Why don’t you take him out in the country to some farm? If I was Mr. O’Brien,
I’d like to live on a farm with lots of room and work to do.”

That’s such a good idea. I say I’ll go look right away.

“But,” she says, “if I were you, I’d not go with those crazies. They really are crazies,
you know. Why don’t you come over here and work for me? You’ve got a knack with animals
and I could use a helper.”

I don’t know what to say, so I say, “But they taught me to read.”

She looks at me funny, then realizes she’s staring, and looks down at Mr. O. instead,
as if she doesn’t know what to say either. Finally she says, “Great dog. If he were
mine, I wouldn’t get rid of him for anything.”

I do find a good home for Mr. O. way out on a farm. They’re going to change his name
to Buster. I’m thinking they’d like his name if they had ever met the real Mr. O’Brien.
They’re going to keep him tied up until he gets used to them and to me not being there,
otherwise he’d follow me back. As I leave, I hear him barking and barking, and then
it changes to crying. But they said he’d get used it. They said it always takes a
while. And it was cooler out there and there were other dogs and lots of other animals.
I would have liked it there myself. But now I’m thinking I gave away the only thing
I ever loved, and the only thing that ever loved me.

And then I worry. It was a long hot walk out of town, are they going to give him water?
He needs it right away. They seemed like nice enough people, but sometimes people
forget or don’t notice.

As I get back to the group, here’s Eppie. She can see that I’ve been crying. Also
that Mr. O. isn’t with me.

She says, “Good. You did it. That dog was just too big. I’m glad he’s out of our pup
tent. Can you picture him bouncing around in a spaceship!”

I have to admit he took up more than his share of the tent. I say, “I’m worried he’s
thirsty and they won’t give him water. Maybe I should go back and check.”

“Are you going to be worrying about that dog all though the whole trip?”

She’s right, I
am
going to worry. I say, “Maybe I shouldn’t go with you.”

But then she gets all upset. “Oh, no.” She practically yells it, and hugs me. “You’re
my best friend.”

I think I’m her best friend because I’m so ignorant about the world that she can keep
telling me things. I do learn a lot from her but I know some of it’s wrong. Though
I’m certainly grateful for those reading lessons. She wants to be a teacher and she’s
good at it, but I’m not really her best friend, I’m just her best and most willing
pupil.

We’ve already packed up most of our belongings and arranged them in our staterooms.
My room is next to Eppie’s, just as we wanted. The rooms are small, but they have
big metal mirrors so they seem larger. We had our choice of colors. I wanted mine
to be all woody colors: tans and browns. I knew it would be a long time before I saw
any real wood. Eppie’s is yellow and blue and white. She put her favorite pictures
on the walls. They had to be glued down tight. She couldn’t put up pictures in the
pup tent but she had these all ready to go. Funny to think of those pictures of handsome
men—I guess they’re movie stars—going all the way off to Paradise, where they’ll be
old men or dead before we even get there. I wonder why she even has them.

I guess I’d most want a picture of Mr. O., but then I’d never stop thinking about
him. Except I don’t want to ever stop. Besides,

There’s a big rally our last night on Earth. They talk about the beautiful world God
will lead them to, out in Proxima Centauri. They keep calling it Paradise, but the
moon is out and almost full, and I don’t see how any place can be more beautiful than
right here. Besides, this world has Mr. O. in it. I do know my so-called father and
mother would never find me on that new world, but even so, I’m not sure I want to
go. Besides, Mr. O. would keep me safe. He did it before.

The preacher (dressed all raggedy, like we’re all supposed to be because of renouncing
worldly things). He says…shouts, “And so this evil world will soon burn as if it’s
hell itself. Parts that don’t burn will be covered with water. Already dozens of islands
have been lost to the sea. Soon every river will be poisoned. You know it. You know
it. You see it already happening. Look at Godless New Orleans. Look at voodoo-filled
Haiti. How God punished them.

“I will not be among you. I’m old and I’m not the best of the best, but you are. You’re
the chosen.”

The moon is so bright I wouldn’t even need a flashlight. There’s a little breeze and
it’s cool for a change.

“…and there will be the winds of a hundred hurricanes and they will last a hundred
years, and the earth will shake.…You know it. You know it. You’ve seen it already.”

I pretend to head to the bathrooms. Eppie says, “Wait a minute. This is the best part.
He’s telling about earthquakes that never stop.” But I keep going.

“…earthquakes that never stop…I say again
never
. Never! Imagine it. Imagine.”

I reach the farm in the middle of the night. The other dogs there bark like crazy.
Luckily they still have Mr. O. tied up in the front of the house. He’s almost chewed
through his rope. He’d have been free in another day or so. We hug and he cries with
joy, and so do I. The lights go on in the house, and I untie him fast and we run,
but not toward the end-of-the-world people. Maybe we can spend the night back in that
doghouse.

In the doghouse we find a half-dead kitten. We can’t do anything about it until morning,
so we all just cuddle up together.

From now on I’m going to do the opposite of the end-of-theworld people. I’m going
to take in animals, and Mr. O’Brien and this kitten are the first ones.

Except the kitten dies in the night. It was just too bitten up, and I didn’t have
any way to help save it. I had thought about that woman who did grooming. She’d know
how to help, but it died before I could get it to her. At least it didn’t have to
die alone. I told it I loved it and that it was a good kitty. I hope it understood.

The end-of-the-world people leave in the morning. We hear the great roar and see the
flash of their going. It lights up the whole sky. It’s exciting, and for a minute
I wish I was with them. I shout, and Mr. O. gives a howl. Then we run, as if to follow
it.