The Leftovers

plant a vegetable garden,” Meg said. “Green beans, zucchini, tomatoes, stuff like that. Totally organic.”
    “It would pay for itself,” Laurie chimed in. “We just need a small investment to get started.”
    They were really excited about the garden plan—they had a lot of time on their hands and wanted to do something constructive with it—but the Director blew right past the subject as though she hadn’t even heard them.
    “Where do you sleep?” she asked. “Have you moved into the master bedroom?”
    Laurie shook her head. “We’re still upstairs.”
    “Separate rooms,” Meg added quickly, which was technically true, but a bit misleading, since her own mattress had taken up permanent residence on the floor of Laurie’s bedroom. They both felt better that way, close enough to whisper, especially now that they were alone at the outpost.
    Patti Levin squinted in disapproval, exhaling a jet of smoke from the corner of her mouth.
    “The master bedroom’s much nicer. Isn’t there a Jacuzzi down there?”
    Meg blushed. It was a rare night at the outpost when she didn’t avail herself of the Jacuzzi. Laurie liked it okay, but the novelty had worn off pretty quickly.
    “The only reason I bring it up,” the Director went on, “is because your new housemates will be arriving next week. If you want to make a move, this would be a good time to do it.”
    “Housemates?” Meg said without a whole lot of enthusiasm.
    “Al and Josh,” the Director said. “Really special guys. I think you’ll like them.”
    This news wasn’t unexpected—it was one of the first possibilities they’d discussed last night—but Laurie was surprised by the depth of her disappointment. She and Meg were happy on their own. They were like sisters or college roommates, totally relaxed and unself-conscious, familiar with each other’s quirks and moods. She wasn’t looking forward to the intrusion of newcomers, the awkwardness of once again sharing the house with strange men. The whole domestic chemistry would change, especially if one of them got a crush on Meg, or Meg got a crush on one of them. Laurie didn’t even want to think about that, all the sexual tension and twentysomething drama, no peace for anyone.
    “You’ve got a beautiful tradition at Outpost 17,” the Director told them. “I hope you two can keep it going.”
    “We’ll do our best,” Laurie promised, though she wasn’t quite sure what the tradition was, or how she and Meg might go about preserving it.
    Patti Levin seemed to catch her uncertainty.
    “Gus and Julian are heroes,” she said in a firm and quiet voice. “We need to honor their sacrifice.”
    “Gus?” Meg said. “Did he get killed, too?”
    “Gus is fine,” the Director said. “He’s a very brave man. We’re taking very good care of him.”
    “What did he do?” Meg asked, giving voice to Laurie’s own confusion. All they knew was that Gus hadn’t come home the night Julian got killed, and that the police were still looking for him. “What was his sacrifice?”
    “He loved Julian,” the Director said. “Can you imagine the courage it took to do what he did?”
    “What did he did do?” Meg asked again.
    “He did what we asked him to.”
    Laurie felt suddenly light-headed, as if she might pass out. She remembered squatting by the radiator on those cold winter nights, listening to the shameless, almost desperate noise Gus and Julian were making in the master bedroom, as if they were beyond all caring.
    Patti Levin sucked on her cigarette, staring at Meg for a long moment, and then shifting her gaze to Laurie, filling the space between them with a cloud of grayish smoke.
    “The world went back to sleep,” she said. “It’s our duty to wake it up.”
    *   *   *
    KEVIN KNEW it was overkill, reading the paper with the TV on and his laptop open while eating his pregame sandwich, but it wasn’t as bad as it looked. He wasn’t really using the laptop—he just liked to keep it handy in case he felt like checking his e-mail—nor was he reading the paper in any formal sense. He was just sort of scanning it, exercising his eyes, letting them roam over the headlines in the Business section without absorbing any information. As for the TV, that was just background noise, an illusion of company in the empty house. All he was thinking about was the sandwich itself, turkey and cheddar on wheat, a little mustard and some lettuce, nothing fancy, but perfectly adequate