AFTERWARD

It was a quiet late afternoon in autumn when the two young women came up the dirt road, their worn boots dragging in the dust, their sore feet limping at every step. Both wore ragged military uniforms. One bore a dirty bandage wrapped around her eyes. The other young woman kept a gentle hold on the arm of the bandaged woman; she was clearly guiding her bandaged companion up the road. The house, with its clapboard porch, and hand-operated front yard water pipe, could be distinguished from the other New England homes in its area only in that the others were visibly abandoned.

“We’re almost there. Just a few more steps,” Diane said.

Kristin smiled. “I picture it like something out of a Wyeth painting.”

“You’re not that far off. My mom keeps it very Massachusetts.”

“I trust you have an old-fashioned front porch, for waving at the neighbors?”

“Well, it’s a long time since we’ve seen any neighbors,” Diane shrugged, “but we’ve still got the porch.”

Helen, Diane’s mother, had been butchering a turkey in the backyard. She happened to come around the side of the house at that moment, going to wash her hands and the handaxe at the front pump. She was startled for a moment. Then her eyes went wide with joy as she recognized her daughter.

“Darling – my darling!” Helen cried. “You’re home, you’re home!”

Diane embraced her. Helen kissed her, but tried to keep her bloody hands from touching her. “Hug me, Momma!” Diane pleaded.

“Let me wash my hands,” Helen said. “I don’t want to get blood on your uniform.”

“That’s what uniforms are for.”

Helen was proud to recognize Diane’s rank. “My daughter has a captain’s bars! I managed to net a turkey at dawn. You and your guest are in luck.”

Diane made the introductions. “This is Kristin. Corporal Kristin Noyes. She’s a vegetarian. Kristin, this is my mother, Helen.”

“We have plenty of corn for company,” her mother said. “We’ve had a lot of good fortune. But the best luck of all is having you home.” Helen pumped water and washed her hands. She rinsed the handaxe and put it away on the porch. “I couldn’t ask for a lovelier afternoon to welcome my daughter home from the war. I’ll pump a bucket, and you two can clean yourselves up.” She started to fill the bucket again.

“Diane’s told me so much about you,” Kristin offered. “I would imagine we’re a sight. It’s a long walk from Trenton.”

“Call me Helen. It’s a shame they couldn’t organize transportation for heroes like you two.”

“The transportation is all filled with wounded,” Diane explained.

“And Kristin’s . . . condition doesn’t count?”

Kristin gestured briefly to her face. “Oh, this – this is nothing. I can walk.”

“The important thing is you’re back,” Helen said firmly. “Now -- let me embrace my daughter properly.” Helen finally gave Diane a proper hug. She was crying a little when she murmured, “I see you’re still wearing the locket I gave you.” Diane pushed her dog tags to one side, and, seizing hold of the heart-shaped locket, lifted it in the air like a token of victory. Her mother smiled at the gesture. “When we lost Philadelphia, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” her mother said.

“Kristin was caught by the flash,” Diane told her.

“I’m just lucky someone grabbed me and pulled me down before the blast wave came, or I wouldn’t be here,” Kristin said. “I never found out who it was. They could have been killed by the blast themselves, for all I know.”

Diane wouldn’t leave the subject alone. “They said the mushroom cloud was taller than Everest. I can tell you it was awe-inspiring. One bomb, but it was more powerful than a thousand Hiroshimas. I had my back to the flash, but I could still see the bones in my arm. I had my eyes closed, and I could still see the bones in my arm. But I’ll never forget that mushroom cloud.”

Kristin’s blind eyes appeared to be looking at the floor. “. . . I didn’t see it, of course.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Helen intervened. “It’s just too horrible.”

Diane brought the bucket of clean water to Kristin, who took a turn neatening herself. “When the Republicans in Tallahassee announced they were throwing out the popular vote, and appointing a slate of Republican electors, the newspapers barely tried to explain it to us,” she murmured. “It just seemed like more political nitpicking.”

Diane shook her head, remembering the past. “But then it happened in Harrisburg, too. And Wisconsin.”

“There was violence even where the popular vote went Republican. Remember?” Helen asked.

“When you told me they had murdered Romney, I couldn’t believe it was true,” Diane said. “But, of course, it was. The mob ripped him out of that jail and shot him over and over, even after he was dead.” Diane touched her mother’s shoulder. “It was after the nuclear attack on Philadelphia that they called me in and told there would be no more holding back. We had vaccinated our army. They asked me to convey the disease behind enemy lines. So I did. They arranged for me to be the Typhoid Mary behind the whole thing. That was bad enough. Then the disease mutated so that it killed vaccinated males. And spread back all the way to Toronto, from what they tell me.”

A dark look came over Helen’s face. “Men were demanding hormone injections, they were so desperate to stay alive. But there was never enough hormone to go around,” was all she said.

“It’s ironic when you think about it,” Diane pointed out. “War primarily kills off the able-bodied males. That leaves older men – and boys, of course – behind to reproduce, if not now, in a few years. But the disease just took everyone who was born male.”

Kristin’s voice became very matter-of-fact. “Well, it sounds harsh to say it, but it would have been even more unfair if it had gone the other way. It was the men who voted us into a civil war. If we had to lose one gender, at least it was the one that screwed everything up.”

“There’s some truth to that,” Diane admitted.

Kristin turned her blind eyes toward the house. “Helen, I haven’t used an indoor toilet for so long, it would just be heaven. Do you have one?”

“We certainly do,” Helen responded. “I’ll show you where it is.” Helen guided Kristin into the house. Diane pumped a fresh bucket of water and washed herself. When Helen came back out of the house, her voice sounded strange and distant. “So where is this woman from? Pennsylvania?”

“New Jersey. But she has no home. It all got hit with the fallout from Philadelphia. You know, it’s funny,” Diane said, but her voice was uncertain. She seemed to be speaking just to postpone whatever her mother was about to say. “This whole war started because Republicans didn’t want to allow black people to vote. But, what with the war, and the bomb, and the disease – I don’t think there are any black people left now. There certainly aren’t a lot of them. At least, the ones who are still alive can vote, I guess.”

“The war’s over. And fallout dies down. The radioactivity stops being significant.”

“That’s what they tell us.”

“But you’ve brought her up here.”

“We got to know each other in combat. When they ran low on men, and started sending us in,

instead. I hope you never see it, Mom, but I gotta tell you that that battlefield looks entirely different when it’s covered in dead women. It looks like someone got some mannequins from a dress shop,

broke them in pieces, and scattered them around.” Diane glanced around the vacant yard as though she could see women’s bodies lying there. “I dream about it. But maybe that will go away.”

“How long does she intend to stay?”

“Her name is Kristin.”

Helen could not be distracted. “How long does Kristin intend to stay?”

“I want her to feel welcome. She can do a lot of chores that you might not expect. She’s very intelligent. She’s able to cope.”

“Why do you want her here?”

“She has nowhere else to go.”

“Yes, but you’re not just feeling pity. You want her here.”

“It’s true I’ve gotten used to having her around.”

“Have you kissed her?”

Diane pretended that she had not been anticipating the question. In fact, she had. “No, Mom, I have not kissed her.”

“Has she tried to kiss you?”

“No.”

“But you think she’s a lesbian.”

“I think she may be.”

“Are you?”

“Not yet, Mom, but the night is young.”

“You never so much as hinted at this before.”

“And I’m not doing much more than hinting at it now. But the world has changed, Mom. There are no men out there.”

“There are still some.”

“Well, I haven’t seen any for months. I’ve heard rumors, but – the fact is, I’d be lucky to find a sperm bank that still had intact samples. When the electricity went, no one made it a priority to keep the sperm banks going – no one realized that stuff was going to be worth its weight in gold.”

“You carried the bug, you said, to the enemy.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know that. They never told us.” Helen’s eyes saw the glint of the handaxe on the porch. “That was the bug that mutated and took our men. You murdered your father. That’s what you were announcing.”

“I was one of the reasons he died, yes. If I had refused to play Typhoid Mary, they would have found someone else. It had to be done. They had the hydrogen bombs. Well, we had them, too, but we weren’t willing to use them on our fellow Americans. The bug was the only card we had left.”

“Well, at least he isn’t here to see his only daughter --”

Diane interrupted her, and Diane’s voice was cold. “I’m sure you don’t enjoy living on corn and turkey, turkey and corn. But it’s what we have. I don’t intend to go through life alone.”

“I have to.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I’m going to share my life with someone. If it has to be a woman, that’s what I’ll have to put up with. We’re all behind bars now, Mom. We were locked behind bars by the people who let this happen to us. We just have to do what we can to get by. Now that we’re demobilized, I’m no longer her superior officer. I just have to get out of this uniform.”

“Please don’t say another word about it.”

“I’ll never say another word.”

Helen’s voice grew desperate and shrill. “But you’re not the least bit – that way. What is she, blind?”

Diane smiled and shrugged. “Yes, Mom – that’s what she is. Blind.”

Helen grew very quiet. “Don’t give her the locket,” was all she said.

Kristin could suddenly be heard from inside the house. “Could someone give me a hand here?”

“Excuse me,” Diane said. She went into the house and came back out with Kristin. Kristin had her arm wrapped around Diane’s waist.

“I’m going to get her a drum,” Kristin said. “We can be the spirit of ‘76 if I wear my bandage a little higher.”

Diane finally looked happy. “Do you believe this woman, Mom? She’s the life of the party.”

* * *