In the After

you seen one?” I ask him without looking at him. “A Florae? Up close?”
    “You don’t have to see them to know them,” he replies .
    I try again. “What do you know about them?”
    His hand clenches into a fist and he begins to hit himself on the thigh. I reach over and touch his leg, attempting to comfort him .
    “DO NOT TOUCH ME!” he yells, jumping up. He continues to pound his fist into his hip .
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell him quietly .
    “This whole damn place upsets me,” he shouts. An orderly takes hold of him and wrestles him to the ground so a nurse can give him a shot .
    Dr. Thorpe appears, her hand to her ear. “Mr. Jones needs his treatment now. Ready the machine.”
    I know I should stay quiet, but against my instincts I stand and stumble into Dr. Thorpe’s way. “Amy, please. Not now,” she says .
    “Sorry. Where’s Frank going?” I ask .
    “It’s okay. He’s going to have treatment.”
    “Not electroshock?” I ask, horrified .
    “No. EMDR . . . I don’t have time for this now.” She pulls away from me .
    “EMDR?” I mutter .
    “Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing,” someone says at my shoulder. I turn to find the nurse at my side. “Was that too much? Do you need to go back to your room?” he asks .
    “No. I’m fine. What is EMDR exactly . . .? Maybe it could help me,” I add hastily. I know I am walking a fine line .
    “Frank is obsessed with the Floraes. During his treatments we show him a picture of a Florae and negatively enforce the association . . . ,” he trails off. “This may be a little complicated for you, but don’t worry. Frank’s treatment is working. He’s getting better.”
    I nod and sit back down. Rice assured me help was on the way and urged me to play nice, but it’s hard not to try to help Frank. I could only imagine their version of negative reinforcement. Whatever Frank is going through, I know it is making him worse, not better .
    • • •
    School resumed a few days after the Incident. That’s what everyone around here was calling it. The final death count was 418 dead, no wounded. The Floraes didn’t leave wounded. They killed and devoured and moved on to kill again. And after the memorial service, more information was released about the cause.
    The Incident occurred because two contiguous sonic emitters failed and were out for four days, giving the Floraes enough time to wander into New Hope. It must have seemed like heaven to them, all the loud people, all the light.
    But I wasn’t buying it. Rice monitored those emitters constantly, and I knew he’d be full of regret if he were to blame. He was extremely upset, but not guilt-ridden. And Baby said that the emitters were out for about twenty minutes before she decided to tell me, not four days. How could so many Floraes make it through in twenty minutes? And why would they lie about what happened?
    I sat in class, still stupidly hoping that Vivian would walk through the door, even though I knew it was impossible.
    “Amy,” someone called across the room. I looked up to find Tracey staring at me, dark circles under her eyes. I wandered over to her desk. “I know what you did,” she told me. “Upstairs. You saved those children.”
    “I didn’t do anything,” I explained. “I sat in a room and waited to die. Luckily the Guardians took care of the Floraes first.”
    “Vivian tried to help too. She heard the little kids screaming. She ran out of our dorm room. She wanted to save them.”
    “What?” This hit me like a blow to the stomach. Vivian hadn’t stood a chance.
    “I hid,” Tracey told me, ashamed.
    I shook my head. “You did the right thing.”
    “The Floraes never made it into the Class Five dorms. The Guardians got to them first, but they were in the hall. I heard them. . . . I was so scared.” She began to cry.
    “Vivian was brave, but she did a very stupid thing,” I told her. “You hid. You survived. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    “You helped,” she said, sniffling. “You faced the Floraes and lived.”
    “Tracey, I had a gun,” I explained. “I know how the Floraes are, how they act.”
    “I’m so miserable, Amy. I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate on my projects.” Tracey wiped the tears from her face.
    “It’s okay. You need time.” I hugged her and hoped it helped a little.
    “My psyche-eval is up. I don’t want to be sent to the Ward.”
    “You won’t. It would be