In the After

corrected him. I wanted to add that I read at a college level and was very mature for my age, but I didn’t. It would have sounded stupid, and what did that matter now?
    “How have they not gotten you? They’ve gotten everyone else.”
    “My parents,” I explained. “One was a hippie and one was paranoid.”
    Jake frowned, not understanding.
    “My mother put in an electric fence; my father made sure we had solar panels, a vegetable garden, a rainwater basin. . . .”
    “You have running water?” he interrupted me.
    “Mostly . . . when it rains anyway. The filters work because of the solar panels.”
    He stared at me. “Where do you live?” I felt my body tense. There was something in his tone that I didn’t like.
    I looked at him, unsure of what to say. “Lakeview,” I answered vaguely. “But you have electricity too,” I quickly pointed out.
    “A generator. It runs on gas . . . plenty of cars lying around to siphon fuel from. I also hooked a couple up in empty houses to attract those things.”
    “Why?” I asked, truly curious. There were so many of Them, what would killing a few stray ones do?
    “It makes me happy.” He scowled, looking anything but happy. “I feel like I’m actually doing something. Every night I go on my rounds, up to the lake and downtown and back. I check on the traps every third night.”
    He stepped toward me and I backed away. I smiled awkwardly. Something about him had me on alert.
    “I’m just heading to the fridge,” he told me, his hands up in the air. He opened the door and grabbed a couple of bottles. “Do you want a beer?”
    “Uh . . .” Out of habit, I hesitated. “I don’t know. . . .”
    “In case you haven’t noticed, society is in shambles. Our government has collapsed and we’ve been overrun by creatures from another planet. I don’t think the drinking age applies anymore,” he told me with a smirk.
    He was right. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t drink. “Sure, I’ll have one,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed.
    Jake returned from the kitchen and held out the bottle to me. I reached for the beer uneasily. As I stretched out my fingers the bottle slipped. The glass crashed to the floor and shattered, the noise startling me. I stared at the broken bottle, the beer fizzing in a puddle. It was unsettling not to be silent. Everything felt all wrong.
    “I’m sorry,” I told him lamely. “Do you have a towel or something?”
    “Don’t worry about it.” He took a swig of his beer and went to get me another one. Suddenly I was struck by an overwhelming urge to leave. “Actually, I should get back,” I said. “I wanted to do some more scavenging before dawn.”
    “Oh. Okay.” His face fell. He looked at the floor, clearly disappointed. “But maybe I can see you again tomorrow,” he said, perking up slightly. “I mean, we have to stick together. There aren’t many of us left.”
    “Have you seen others?” I asked excitedly. Somehow I just didn’t like the prospect of being stuck with Jake as my only human companion for the next fifty or so years.
    “A few. There are even rumors that a whole town survived, though no one seems to know where it is.” He sipped his beer, unwilling to say more. Then he gave me a look that made my skin crawl. “You can stay here if you want. Or I can come to your place. I’d love to take a hot shower.” He beamed. “A shower would be fan.”
    “Yeah, fan,” I agreed. Jake’s use of my friends’ slang sounded like when my dad tried to buddy up to me and said things like cool and hip .
    “So, we can hang out at your place for a bit?” He was suddenly standing very close to me.
    “Maybe.” I was careful not to commit to anything. “We can talk about it tomorrow.” I backed away toward the door.
    “All right,” he said, though clearly it was anything but. “Should we meet up tomorrow at our spot? Midnight?” he asked. A shiver ran down my spine. His use of “our spot” freaked me out.
    “Sure, sounds good,” I agreed, just wanting to leave. I reached for the door and struggled with the handle. Jake stood over me, making the muscles in my neck and jaw tense. He reached past me and undid the lock.
    “Thanks,” I mumbled, and hurried down the stairs, out the door, and into the night.
    My hands shook slightly and I felt queasy. I had such high hopes for our meeting. I thought he’d be younger, less creepy. I wanted us to click and become friends. But up there, in