Daphne Lamb

THE GIRL’S GUIDE TO THE APOCALYPSE

“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”

—Helen Keller

CHAPTER 1

Be Flexible to Change

THE DAY OF THE APOCALYPSE was a really bad day. It was the closest thing people in the twenty first century had ever known to real actual hardship. I know it was for me, Verdell Sonobe, born of the Eighties, recipient of absentee parenting but constant loving care from the TV, educated in the philosophy that if I wanted it then I probably deserved it—but with no power, rampant viruses and limited supplies, we were closer probably to the 1800s on a good day. I was a data coordinator for Mitchellwide Industries. It was an inconsequential job at a now inconsequential company. Regardless, it helped fulfill all I wanted in life, which was falling asleep to true crime shows. I was one of the few people achieving their dreams on a regular basis, but a bad shipment of infected black market organs from China spread quickly. Add to that an ill-timed major earthquake in central Los Angeles, which set off other earthquakes, which caused ruptures in several nuclear power plants across country. The world as we knew it was over, and I was left with a dead dream. Goodbye never-ending episodes of CSI: SVU.

The Incident was on a Wednesday. Just before the sirens rang, I sat in the break room with my friend and coworker, Tatiana, a list of pros and cons in front of me, my boyfriend, Bruce’s, name headlining it.

“So that’s where we’re at,” I said. My annoyance level at him rose just thinking about it.

She frowned at the list. “He has a steady job and a car,” she said, pointing at one of the items. “You can’t value that too much in a recession.”

I made the same face. “True,” I said. “But he’s a little too proud of his community theater. Too many fans over the age of sixty-five.”

Tatiana nodded. “What have been your rules for breaking up with other boyfriends?” she asked. “Assuming of course you’ve had them and you haven’t settled just for this one.”

“Come on,” I said defensively. “Give me a little bit of credit. I’ve had lots of boyfriends. Ask around.”

She folded her arms. “So what you’re saying is, your heart is not open for business.”

“Not true.” I looked up at the ceiling and sighed at the flux of emotional failure. “Jake had a nervous breakdown and cried nonstop, then left town in the middle of the night. Michael had more video games and toys than a Japanese teenager, and Randy just wasn’t going anywhere.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Like he wasn’t serious about you?”

“He was a supervisor at Wal-Mart.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just a guy working an honest wage? You sound hard to please.”

“Lived with his parents.”

She nodded slightly with her head tilted. “Okay,” she said slowly. “He’s loyal. What price could you put on that?”

“Used the letter z for pluralizing words in texts.”

“Yikes.”

I nodded. “Tell me about it.”

“Hey babe!” Bruce wandered in and grabbed a can of soda sitting in front of me, one I had just opened. He tilted his head back and drank deeply from it.

I squinted and tried to assess his attractiveness again. I studied his stocky frame, dark hair and round face. He sort of reminded me of a clean-cut hobbit in Gap chinos, trying to test the waters of any infatuation that might be there. I tried to imagine him petting a puppy to enhance his appeal, then immediately felt bad for the puppy.

“Hey.” He smacked his lips. “Ready to have lunch? You wouldn’t believe the traffic on the freeway.”

He noticed the piece of paper we’d been huddled over.

“What’s that?” he asked and pointed to it. “Is that my name?”

I quickly crumpled it. “We’re writing a novel.”

“You should write a play,” he said. “And then write a part for me.”

Warning sirens suddenly blared and a fire alarm went off in our building, which was then quickly silenced followed by a moment of no power. We waited powerless in the darkness when the high-pitched echoes came back on again. People in the hall stopped for a moment and then went about their business as if it were just another day. I, on the other hand, sat up, rigid in my chair, a sense of panic exploding in my every fiber.

“What’s that?” I asked, breathing hard. I rose to my feet and looked in every direction.

Tatiana shrugged. “Who knows anymore?” She pulled out a gas mask from her purse and held it up. “Maybe we should have been wearing these like we were supposed to.” She shifted moods and smiled brightly at me. “Want to come to karaoke night tomorrow? It’s totally going to be stupid, but at least we can vent all this frustration.”

I was tense and gripped the table. “Do we have any other safety protection?”

Bruce, on the other hand, grabbed Tatiana’s Cheetos and shook his head, shoving his hand deep into the bag. “You can’t go tomorrow,” he said. “It’s opening night of my play. But thanks for lunch.”

I looked at Tatiana, momentarily calming down. “Is that a pro or a con?” I asked.

“Verdell,” she said slowly, eyeing her Cheetos. “I think you know where that goes.”

Bruce looked out one of the windows and continued to munch. “Maybe I should head back. Traffic looks backed up.”

When I look back on everything that happened, perhaps I could have been more empathetic in the aftermath, but there’s no telling if empathy could have been my cause of death. Maybe had I had gone out to find my family, I would have ended up in some ditch with others with likeminded goals. I cowered inside, watching and hearing the riots outside. The thought of going out in it made me fearful of my inability to fight back or outrun anyone.

I watched my coworkers’ faces as they registered the fact that a real emergency was happening. Their gazes slowly traveled up in the direction of the sound of the alarms as though the world were traveling in slow motion. I felt my phone go off and checked what was incoming. My parents were calling, my roommate was calling, and my cable company was calling, presumably because I hadn’t paid my bill in two months. Instead of picking one or the other to talk to, I pulled out my gas mask issued when the first virus outbreak came out. It seemed a little thin and flimsy as I stared at it in the fluorescent lighting, so I threw it into the trash and then crawled under my desk, and hoped everything would just work itself out.

In some respect, it did. Those of us who survived were locked in the building, effectively cut off from the rest of the world. In the days that followed, we made unfruitful searches on the news, which then turned into rumors that I suspected people were just making up.

“I heard,” my direct supervisor said on the second day into our forced stay at the office. “That pet shelters were selling hospitals infected organs. And that’s what happened.”

I shook my head. “Maybe you should check your sources on that,” I said. “Remember when that got disproven six months ago?”

She thought about it. “Was that where I heard it?”

“That’s where everyone heard it.”

The lack of constant information is hard, especially when you come from a time when it was so easy to get. No media, no Internet, nothing. I even lost all my high scores on Tetris on my phone. Welcome back to the Stone Ages.

We were told by the suits upstairs that this office building was our new home until further notice and that we should continue to work despite the circumstances. I thought about those times I called in sick to binge watch Third Rock from the Sun when I could have been doing something useful or how I could have owned a dog or talked to my family more. I checked what traffic was like on Google Maps, forgetting there was no Internet, so I would look outside where our offices overlooked the freeway. The cars there hadn’t moved for days and didn’t look as if there was any chance of that changing.

There was no actual work to be done. We sat quietly at our cubicles, staring at clocks as if we waited this thing out so we could get back to doing what we truly loved—entering numbers in Excel spreadsheets. I, on the other hand, felt the heaviness of what was going on in the world, so I took some sheets of printer paper and started a letter to my family. It was harder than I thought. I threw it away and then started a break up letter to Bruce. I wrote and rewrote that a number of times, but could never quite get the right tone or theme for it. I wished for access to the Internet just to have examples, but now I had to face the question of, how does one write a breakup letter?

On one extremely quiet afternoon, Tatiana aimlessly wandered around the cubicles. I saw her head weave in and out, in and out, until she eventually made it to my desk. She paused and looked down at me and put a finger to her lips, then dropped a folded note onto my desk. Before I could look at it, she kept walking.

I unfolded it quickly.

My side of the floor hates your side of the floor. They feel you’re harboring access to the vending machine. An attack is coming.

Below that, she had written a list of pros and cons.

Pros to Rioting. Everyone gets snacks. Communication between involved parties. Something to do besides sitting at desk.

Cons. Someone might get hurt. We might not be able to hang out anymore.

I refolded the note, slightly confused, then stood and looked around for Tatiana. She was nowhere to be found, but I heard someone yell from the other side of the floor. Everyone got onto their feet as the others—now in matching corporate sweatshirts given at last year’s Christmas party—charged our side of the office, holding up whatever they could get their hands on—staplers, binders, coffee mugs, chair parts brandished as weapons.

“Give us your Cheetos!” they chanted as they violently attacked my coworkers.

A shiver went down my spine and I shook at the hollowed out roar of softened office workers. I dove under my desk as the fighting went on. Feet ran past me, and I listened to the sounds of yelling and crying. I looked out in time to see two of my coworkers trying to bravely protect the door to the break room, but be overcome with the force of four people from the accounting department. They rushed in and immediately went to work rocking the vending machine back and forth until it toppled like some abhorred dictator’s statue.

They cheered and victoriously jumped up and down. I got back up to my feet and looked around, thinking the danger was over.

“What the hell is going on here!” someone shouted.

The floor went quiet. My side of the floor huddled down in fearful fetal positions, but the attacking side had mouths full of unhealthy treats, mid-enjoyment of their plunder.

The voice belonged to the company CEO, Robert Peele, who, despite his stained khakis and sweat-stained button-down shirt, still had enough confidence for us to listen to him. Under his arm he carried a thick textbook with the words Secrets to Risk Management written in bold letters across the cover.

“Just because the world is crumbling outside doesn’t mean we all become barbaric hill people!” he said. “Now clean this mess up!”

He spun on his heel and stormed off. At that moment, one of the finance guys got weak in the knees, collapsed to the floor and threw up.

Soon after that my supervisor got sick, then half the office followed suit, which lead Robert to force them off the floor and into the stairwell with specific instructions to go to anywhere else. Sick people were moved to the second and third floor while healthy people moved up to the ninth. Then the fourth floor accounting department got sick. Then the sales communication group. Then floors of people were starting to die out, which was when people got panicky. So we waited out another two days of listening to people fighting death, begging to be allowed on our floor. Who wants to listen to that? We boarded up the stairwell doors with chairs and dry erase boards. Eventually we didn’t hear anything from those fighting to get in and we just assumed that evolution had done its duty. I made up my mind to stay healthy no matter what, and that I wasn’t going anywhere until forcibly removed. The office building we were in had its own generator, a decent amount of food that could be rationed and we were now up on the eleventh floor, high enough of a vantage to see the world crumbling without taking part of it.

After all the death and the fighting over Cheetos and listening to Robert read from his risk management book, our generator eventually gave out and the entire building was without power. No sooner had everything shut down and the stillness of a powerless life sunk in, I really had to use the bathroom. I was going to wait it out for as long as possible, but when my body would allow no more waiting, I removed the bulletin board being used to prevent anyone from entering and ventured into the creepy stairwell where the last working bathroom was located. So I held it there in the dark until I could find a heavy object to prop the door open. On looking around, I found Robert’s risk management book sitting on the table in the break room. I snatched it up and shoved it under the door, then ran for the bathroom.

After five minutes of sweet relief, I came out of the bathroom to a hallway of pure darkness. My stomach tightened as I realized the inevitable. The book was gone, the door was shut and I was locked out of the healthy floor of the building.

“Hello?” I called out. “Anyone?”

Blindly I moved toward the door leading to the office, my arms in front of me like a limp Frankenstein until I hit it. I tried to fight the urge to panic as I banged on it.

“Help!” I called. “Locked out!”

From deep in the hall, I heard moaning from the upper stairwell and I shuddered on the inside. So I kept on banging on the door.

“Anyone? Anyone?”

As I made loud noise, I closed my eyes and did something I hadn’t done since I was seven.

“Dear God,” I whispered. “If you get me out of here, I will do whatever you want. I will work on my people skills, I will do more things for others—”

At that moment, the door swung open. Robert stood in the entry way with a confused look on his face.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “You could have gotten locked out and died.”

He stood aside to let me through.

“I had the door propped open,” I said simultaneously exasperated and relieved. I put a hand over my heart, which beat quickly. “I propped it open with a book in the break room.”

His eyes flashed wide. “You’re the one who took my book?” he asked. He withdrew it from under his arm and held it close. “Never touch my book. Someone could have stolen it.”

“It’s a book on risk management,” I said. “No one’s going to want it.”

He gave me a deadpan stare, then walked away, but continued to talk.

“There are golden truths in this book!” he shouted. “Our world hinges on what’s in this book!”

Robert had since given up his top-floor office with its spectacular views of citywide death and destruction and had set up shop in the now vandalized break room. For the most part, he seemed unfazed and rarely bothered looking up from his Blackberry, which didn’t hold any reception.

“Have you been able to reach anyone from the Chicago team on the phone?” he asked without directly looking at me when I walked in to use the cleanish water to rinse out my mug.

“Which phone should I use?” I asked. “The one by my desk that doesn’t work or the one at your desk that doesn’t work?”

He mashed his fingers onto the tiny keys. “Nothing here fucking works,” he said. “Supposed to be the best technology out there.”

“We really don’t have technology anymore.”

“See what I mean?” he asked. “Million-dollar company. All of it crap. And where the hell are the lights?”

I shrugged. “The lights from the power that doesn’t work?”

“Bet you anything the folks upstairs have it.”

“Maybe.”

He stared at me. I stared back, daring him to blink first. Which he did. He always did.

“I’m getting really tired of you not being a step ahead,” he said.

“The power’s out,” I said. “The elevators aren’t working, and I don’t want to get locked out of the office again. Where it’s really dark and creepy, I might add.”

“Fucking useless,” he muttered as he went back to his office. “I’m using the bathroom.”

“The bathroom’s not on this floor,” I said. “You insisted all the sick people go to the floor with the bathrooms, remember? Or does your risk management wisdom have a better option?”

He gave me a withering glare. So I took a deep breath and changed my tone.

“There’s two options,” I said. “You can get stuck in the dark stairwell and feel around corners until you can turn left or you can use one of the corners behind any plant you see.”

“So no one’s getting any dignity out of this, are they?” he asked.

I shook my head and stared at the floor.

“We got any food around here?” he asked.

“I’ve got a bag of Funyuns and there’s some leftover Raisenettes that I found in the back of the break room.”

Underneath my desk, I had made a makeshift bed out of two emergency blankets and an ugly oversized hooded sweatshirt that had been the company Christmas present the previous year. I shoved my feet under it for warmth, and it was oddly comforting for something I had made fun of just six months before.

I heard a voice calling from in the darkness.

“Robert? Robert?”

I stood and tried to peer into the darkness. I saw movement, but wasn’t sure who was coming.

“Who is that?” Robert asked.

“I can’t tell,” I said. “I don’t know who else is living in this building.”

“Well, find out,” he said, annoyed. “I don’t have time today for people stumbling by my office.”

“You mean the break room?” I asked.

“Whatever,” he muttered as he stared at his Blackberry. “If it gets me no view of what’s going on outside, I’ll take it.”

“Who’s there?” I asked.

“It’s Debra!”

“Tell her I’m not here,” he hissed.

I reached over and shut Robert’s office door as Debra, late 40s, perky and cultishly corporate, got close enough I could see her in the limited light the window offered.

“Hi, Debra,” I said, smiling broadly. “He says he’s not here.”

“Jennifer!” she said. “You’re still here?”

“I’m Verdell,” I said. “Jennifer was the receptionist. Emphasis on the word was.”

“Of course,” she said. “I can never keep up with the turnaround here.”

“Did you check the group of sick people downstairs?” I asked. “She might be one of them.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she said. “My assistant died three days ago. I’d ask HR to get me a new one, but god knows how helpless they are.”

“I think everyone’s pretty helpless these days,” I said. “Probably to save their own lives. My regards to Denise, by the way. I heard she was nice.”

She shrugged calmly. “What are you going to do,” she said. Then she stopped to think. “Of course. How silly of me. Funny.” She cleared her throat. “Where did you say Robert was?”

“Uh, in a meeting.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Who’s around that he’d be in a meeting with?”

“Like he ever tells me anything.” I laughed with as much fake enthusiasm as I could during times of corporate fallout.

I gestured at his darkened form in the break room. “Maybe you’d like to help yourself to some picked over Raisenettes or Funyuns.”

She sighed. “You lower level entries and your carbs.”

She plopped herself down onto a nearby desk and folded her hands. Despite having been locked away for a week with no change of clothes and limited resources, Debra looked fantastic. Her pencil skirt was short and unwrinkled; her blouse perfectly coordinated with her chunky jewelry and platform nude heels. It was dim in the room. I couldn’t tell what the makeup situation was, but I was going to just assume it was perfect.

She leaned forward as if we were girlfriends at lunch.

“While I’m waiting, I have to tell you something.”

“Oh?”

She pulled a small bottle of nail polish out of her skirt pocket. “Did you hear about my makeup party I’m having next week?”

I shook my head. “Now where on earth would you be having that?”

“Originally, it was going to be at my home, but now it looks like it’ll be in the break room,” she said. “Unless they get all this,” she motioned to the carnage lying on the freeway below us, “cleaned up. I’ll keep you posted, though.”

“Please do.”

“Yes, anyway, there’s going to be games, prizes, and best of all, you can order the entire fall line. And my gift to you is one of the shades of nail polish.”

I held it up to the light. “It’s pretty. Like a magenta color.”

“Not magenta,” she said. “It’s called Candy Doo-Wop.”

“I don’t think I can say that with a straight face.” I handed it back to her.

“It’s going to be the hottest color this year. You’ll see.” She pushed the bottle back at me. “Please. My gift to you.”

I looked at the bottle. “Color of the year? I would have thought it’d be a murky grey or crusted blood burgundy. But thank you, Debra,” I said.

I set the bottle to the side. She sighed, looked wistfully at Robert’s door.

“Do you want me to find you when he comes back?”

She playfully shook her finger in my face. “No one ever gets back to me. I know it’s a joke with everyone.”

“He’s busy. You know that.”

She stood and smoothed down the fabric of her skirt. “I’ve got a hunch I know where he’s meeting.”

She walked up to his door and knocked gently. “Robert?”

There was silence for a moment before I heard the sound of Robert clearing his throat, his shadow moving around.

“Robert?”

The door opened by a crack, which Debra immediately shoved her beautiful platform heel into it.

“The bosses upstairs are on me about these numbers,” she said, trying to push her way in.

“I don’t have numbers for them,” he snarled. “Nobody has numbers. And now nobody has power.”

It was at that moment the main doors of the floor were kicked in and a SWAT team swarmed us. I was startled and jumped backward, gripping the wall for balance.

“This is not a drill!” they shouted. “Everyone down on the floor!”

Debra rolled her eyes at them. “We are in a meeting. Can’t this wait at least fifteen minutes?”

They were forceful and humorless. We were being evacuated, and I barely had time to grab my belongings. My hands shook, but I grabbed my purse, an emergency blanket and that really ugly sweatshirt from a team building exercise last year before someone grabbed my arm and hoisted me to the emergency exit.

“I-I’m sorry!” I stammered. “Am I in trouble?”

“You apologize and then ask if you’re in trouble?” the SWAT guy asked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry?” I offered.

The SWAT member shook his head. “You’re building’s getting demolished, and we’re under orders to get you all out.”

“Can I at least get my car out of the garage?” Robert asked. “It’s a black Mercedes C Class. I left it near the stairwell entrance.”

“Just keep moving!” the SWAT guys shouted.

Robert grabbed random things while Debra continued to point to numbers on a piece of paper at him. He made a grand sweep of his desk into his gym bag.

“Change my voicemail, would you?” he asked me. “Say something about how I’m out of the office but can be reached on my Blackberry.”

“No, I’m not saying anything like that,” I said, voice quivering as a SWAT member shoved me forward.

Debra fought against the SWAT team as they had grabbed her by the arms and tried to steer her toward the doors.

“No!” she said. “My office is downstairs. I have lotion in there!”

“Ma’am!” one of the SWATters said. “Your life depends on it!”

She struggled against their force and was only able to manage to slightly flail her hands. “This is police brutality!” she cried. “Would you treat your mother this way?”

There were loud protests from other people being brought down so I couldn’t hear the rest of her commotion, but she did manage to kick the guy in the groin with those upsettingly tall stiletto heels. He howled in pain but kept his grip on her.

Frankly, I don’t know if she was allowed to get her lotion, but at that point, she certainly had the right do-or-die attitude that might be necessary for survival, which I wondered if I might need in the future.

CHAPTER 2

Wants vs Needs

WE WERE WHISKED into school buses that waited outside. I walked up the aisle, searching for a seat, only to see weary fugitives in dirty suits and skirts. Finally, I sat next to a small, nervous-looking man, his fingers shaking as he clutched a briefcase.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “You’re not…” I hesitated, thinking about what I’d seen with virus-stricken coworkers and how to diplomatically find out what my chances were of now acquiring it. “…sick are you?” I slowly finished.

“I need the back row,” Robert announced, standing over me. “Make some room.”

Without a word, the small, nervous-looking man stood and moved farther down the bus. Robert happily took his seat.

With that, we were driven to an abandoned junior high, which now serviced as a quarantine station about ten miles away. I stared out the windows, taking in the demolished cityscape. I can’t begin to tell you how depressing the trip was. So many things were gone, or were in stages of crumbling. I saw people standing around, lying down, maybe they were dead. I don’t know.

There were people in yellow hazard suits, walking back and forth with sensors. We stopped at a traffic light long enough for me to notice one of the yellow-suited men lift his sensor arm and had it come down savagely on a homeless man. I turned away and checked to see if there was a signal on my phone.

* * *

We were one of several vans that pulled into the quarantine unit, which looked as if it had been quickly assembled, by way of stacked cinder blocks and a loosely tied down tarp, possibly the day before. As soon as the van stopped, we were quickly ushered out. One of the men shoved Debra forward, and she broke down and started to cry.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” the man said. He held out a hand to help her up.

“You should be!” She sniffed. “I’ve never done anything wrong and you treat us like dirt! Ever heard of civil rights?”

I had never felt bad for her before, but I did now. She was so put together and made so much more money than I did. It was a weird feeling. I kept my gaze down on the ground and pretended as if I didn’t notice anything.

It was freezing for December in Los Angeles, but no one was actually used to how cold it was. Usually, this was a time of year when people complained about the temperature, but it was never actually jacket weather. This winter was different from any other than had ever come to the city. The sky had a greenish tint and a light drizzle that stung your skin.

“Verdell!”

I heard a familiar voice and frantically looked around. Bruce stood in a nearby line, and our gazes locked on one another. He waved and smiled, wearing a black hoodie I had purchased for him for the Christmas before. I waved back, but not as enthusiastically.

I had bought him a generic black hoodie as a gift out of sheer panic from our third Christmas together and no idea what to get him. I smiled back and waved again, momentarily pleased that his hoodie was one of the only things he had chosen to take with him. I took a mental picture of this event and added it to my pros column on the Bruce list. My mind wandered to my apartment and the scattering of gifts from him shoved in a closet that I could have brought with me, but I didn’t think twice about it.

Poking the person in front of him, he asked, “Save my place, would you?”

He strode over to me with his stocky legs in dirty jeans.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said, putting his arms around me, kissing me on the cheek. “What has it been, like a month?”

It had been a month. I thought back to our last conversation.

“Traffic’s going to be murder getting back,” he’d muttered back on that day in the break room. “Maybe we can just hang after my rehearsal instead.”

“But karaoke,” I said. “And Tatiana thought it might be fun to—”

He’d held his hand up. “Please.”

And then he’d taken off, heading quickly to the elevator. I knew he had made it back because he texted two days later, asking if I wanted to go to his roommate’s wedding that weekend. I’d looked out and saw dark fiery clouds and had simply responded back, “Let’s see what happens.”

“You’re here!” I said. “You’re okay!”

“I know,” he said. “Probably should have texted you. Or you could have texted me. I was around.”

I shook my head. “You could have called. For all I knew you were buried under that naked girl painting your roommate was so damn proud of.”

“Oh, I never went home,” he said, then suddenly stopped and looked up at the ceiling. “I wonder how Matt’s doing.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “Where did you go?”

“They wouldn’t let anyone leave your office, so I’ve been hanging out on the tenth floor this whole time.”

I stared at him. “You couldn’t come upstairs? Didn’t people know you didn’t actually work there?”

“We were all living in a lot of fear,” he said. “But it’s so good to see you now. So glad you made it.”

I thought about that pros and cons list Tatiana had made me do and mentally marked that sentence as a con.

“You know what burns me up the most?” he asked. “I was in play rehearsals too. Opening night was supposed to be two days ago. And I really liked my part.”

I smiled coldly. “You would have been really great in it as that one guy.”

I didn’t even know what play he was in. Had the Incident not happened, I would have gone to his opening night and applauded when the show was over, but after three years of his trying to break through the glass ceiling of the acting profession and getting nowhere, all I could really offer was blind encouragement.

“Thanks,” he said. “Your support is what keeps me going.”

“Move along!” shouted someone in a hazmat suit.

“Sorry!” I said. I turned to Bruce. “What are we standing in line for, anyway? No one’s answering any questions.”

The guards came up behind us and a whole group of others and ushered us into the gym. We were shoved past a wall of lockers, which made me wonder if kids still had their things inside, hoping they’d come back to school to get them.

He grimaced. “We’re being put in color groups,” he said. “And that’s how they decide which quarantine camp we all get shipped off to.”

“Quarantine?” I asked. “If they kept our building, they could’ve just left us.”

He took me by the shoulders. “Don’t say that, sweetie,” he said. “There were mutants or sick people living in your building. You were lucky to escape.”

I made a face, then felt a tight urgency coming from my bladder. “Mutants?” I asked. “Says who? Which floor?”

“Everyone,” he said. “Well, I heard it from three people. You’re just lucky they got you out. You could be one now. And then we’d have to break up.”

“So I’d be available to date other mutants?”

He shrugged with puppy dog begging. “You know I would still love you,” he said.

“So what’s the deal with the color groups?” I asked. “Do they mean anything?”

“Here’s what I can figure out,” Bruce said. “You don’t want to be yellow. That’s for people who look a little lower class.”

“We’re all dirty and forlorn,” I said. “I don’t think that’s a healthy indicator. And I would give any color group anything to find a bathroom around here.”

One of the SWATers handed Bruce and myself yellow bracelets.

“Move along,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I asked, pulling on his sleeve. “What’s the deal with the color classification?”

He sighed. “Tenth time today I’ve had to explain this,” he muttered. “But at least you’re not asking me where your aunt is.”

“Excuse me?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “There should be some kind of rules sign on the wall that’s all.”

He pointed to the yellows. “You’re a yellow, got that?”

We nodded simultaneously.

“Means we got you from an area of high danger. People who are soft and aren’t used to hardship.”

“So kids and people rescued from offices?” I asked.

“Exactly,” he said, then pointed to a group under a blue arrow. “Those are the blues. We rescued them from labs and tech headquarters. We need their brains so they’re going off where they’ll be preserved.”

“Are you sure there’s no better way to phrase that?” I asked.

“Not on a day like today, ma’am,” he said, then gestured to a group of rather beautiful-looking people under a green arrow. “That’s our green group. I don’t want to say VIP, but they’re more noted people who we’re taking to a special place where they should get better treatment than everyone. I think I saw Tom Hanks over there somewhere.”

Bruce folded his arms. “Clearly this is the category I was meant to be in.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you. Can you tell me how I might get in touch with a family member?””

“Move along,” the guard said.

Bruce gave him a fake smile and then quickly stashed the bracelet under his shirt. He nodded calmly. “Oh well, we tried.”

“You heard the man,” I said. “We hoped for better, but in the end, it’s the yellow group. Does this mean I get to find the bathroom now?”

“I’m not going to be a yellow,” he said. “I am an actor. Actors choose who they are, and today I am green.”

I patted him on the back. “Well, if a better color means a path to the bathroom, then I’m in,” I said. “Whatever it takes.”

He smiled. “It’s so great to have you back.”

“Is it?”

I considered this moment, here and now, to utter the words, Bruce, I think it’s time we saw other people, when an official poked me. I turned and faced him.

“Yellow, maybe?” I shrugged. “Can you direct me to the nearest bathroom?”

“Depends on what color group you’re in,” he said. “Yellows are all the way over on the other side, but there’s a line. Greens get to use this close one.”

He pointed to a smaller line leading to a unisex bathroom.

I gave him my best smile. “I must be a green then,” I said. I went to turn toward the bathroom, but he stopped me, pointed at my pants.

“What’s that sticking out of your pocket?”

My yellow bracelet peeked out, damning me. “Oh. This yellow thing.”

I laughed awkwardly and then set out on a trek for the bathroom with a line that snaked the length of the floor. I went to the end of it and closed my eyes, trying to think of other things to distract me from the pain in my bladder.

Bruce ran up to me. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to use the bathroom,” I said as the line shifted slightly forward. “They won’t let me use the green bathroom.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “This is stupid. It’s green or nothing. What’s the bathroom like? Any of the cast from Compton PD there?”

“I didn’t get a chance—”

He grabbed my hand, and we rushed over to the other side of the quarantine where they handed out those green bracelets.

“Excuse me,” I said to a covered guard, breathing hard. “We were supposed to be in the green group, but it seems there’s been a mistake.”

I stared at that bathroom. I just wanted to go in and have one less thing to worry about already.

The guard took off her covered helmet, revealing a surly woman wearing a lot of makeup. She shrugged. “Your point being?”

I handed her the bracelet. “May we please be green?” I asked. “And may I use your facilities?”

She snorted. “Y’all out of luck,” she said. “Move along.”

She waved us away before I thought of something. “Wait!” I said. I reached into my bag and pulled out Debra’s bottle of nail polish. “It’s the hottest color this fall.”

She pointed at it, her eyes wide. “Where’d you get that?”

I shook my head. “Does it matter? I’d be willing to part with it for a place in the green group.”

She snatched the bottle and my yellow bracelet out of my hands. “Get over to the distribution line. Tell them Donna sent you.”

“Thank you!” I said, pulling a bewildered Bruce along.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“You heard the woman,” I said. “Doesn’t matter.”

We went up to the distribution line that was moving forward and then someone handed me a green bracelet and one to Bruce.

“Weren’t you and your sister registered in yellow?” the man in the hazmat suit asked Bruce.

“Donna sent me,” he said.

“We’re not brother and sister.” I said. “We don’t look that much alike.”

“Do we?” he murmured.

Bruce and I nodded simultaneously. Just in case. They pushed us along, and Bruce stared wistfully at the other groups.

“Maybe we should aim for the blue group,” he said.

Debra came up behind us, out of breath. “Whatever you do, do not go into the bathroom set aside for the yellows. There’s no toilet paper, and I had to impale someone’s foot with my heel just to use the sink to wash my hands.”

“Noted,” I said, uncomfortably switching my weight between feet.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Getting our green bracelets,” I said.

She made a face. “Ew, do you know who’s a yellow?”

We caught a familiar sight no more than ten feet away from us. Steve Harks, an A-list celebrity seen in movies where things exploded. The only reason I remembered Steve’s name was because as soon as Bruce saw him he whispered madly, “Steve Harks. Steve Harks, Steve Harks.”

I’ll say this—even with a week of hardship and whatever misfortunate circumstances—the man was drop-dead gorgeous. My jaw dropped a little as I tried hard not to stare. Debra, on the other hand, made no secret about it. She looked like a fourteen year old, eyes wide and shining. She jabbed me with her chipped and polished fingernail and heavy cocktail ring. I turned to her.

“Should I go introduce myself?” she asked. “This is how people come together, meet and fall in love, right?”

“Can’t hurt,” I said. “Who knows where we’ll be tomorrow.”

“Oh, my god,” she said, fanning herself with her hand. “What do I even say?”

“You could say hello,” I said. “Or tell him about how you were in high school when he was born.”

She covered her mouth. “I really liked him in that one thing,” she said. “The one where he played that guy…what’s it called? You know the one. He wore a suit.”

I turned to Bruce, thinking for some reason that he would find Debra just as amusing as I did. But he gawked just as hard at Steve Harks as she did.

“You okay?” I asked.

“That’s Steve Harks.”

“That’s what I keep hearing from the two of you,” I said. “Stars! They’re just like us.”

“Do you think I should tell him about my play?” Bruce asked.

“The one that’s been cancelled indefinitely,” I said. “Can’t hurt.”

“I’ll bet he could help me out. Think of the networking I could be accomplishing.”

“I doubt he’ll come to your play.”

He broke his gaze with Steve and looked at me, hurt puppy eyes. “Why would you say that?”

“Sorry. I just thought you were joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” he asked. “If he came to my play, he’d be really impressed. He’d probably have a part for me in his next movie.”

“Aren’t we getting a little bit ahead of ourselves?” I asked. “Are we even living in world where they make movies?”

His face turned stony. “I should have known.” He turned away.

“What?”

“You’re being sarcastic and unsupportive again,” he said. “It’s like how you think every play I’m in is called Death of a Salesman.”

“That’s not true. You just always play a guy who’s sad and wears suits.”

“What about The Happiest Millionaire?” Bruce asked.

“My mistake,” I said. “You made me believe you were a very happy millionaire.”

“No!” He mouth was getting tight, the way it does when he gets annoyed. “I was the guy trying to marry the millionaire’s daughter! And he wasn’t happy. Remember?”

“So why was it called that?”

“Called what?”

“This isn’t the point. What you’re forgetting is that the world ended a week ago and none of this matters.”

“Whatever,” he said, staring piercingly hard at Steve. “It’s not important. If it was one of those fighting housewives from that show you like, I’d introduce you.”

“See,” I said. “You say that, but the fact that the only thing you’re focused on at this moment in time is Steve Harks says differently.”

He sucked in his breath. “He’s in the yellow group. How could someone that important be there?”

“What?”

He fingered his green bracelet. “Dammit. He’s a yellow? I would have two things to talk to him about instead of this stupid green group!”

I looked at him. “Are you wishing you stayed a yellow? Maybe not as useless a group as you thought?”

It took him a moment to answer, but then he came to. “No, no, no,” he said quickly. “Of course not.”

“Great,” I said. “Wait for me. I’m going to use the bathroom.

He still stared after Steve Harks as he disappeared into a crowd of fellow yellow wearers. He looked as if he was about to cry, so I patted his shoulder.

“I’m sure they’d probably give you back your yellow—”

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “Better this way. You and I are together. Certainly not thinking about trading your bracelet I guess.”

Finally, he met me in the eye and smiled. It wasn’t convincing, but I decided to take it and move on.

“I’m glad,” I said. “It’s been a long week.”

Robert came up behind me. “Get me signed in, will you?” he asked. “I’m going to try to make some calls, so I’ll need a green bracelet.”

“I don’t know if they’ll let you do that,” I said with a heavy sigh. “And I’m pretty sure the phone is just for whoever works here.”

“Trust me,” he said. “There’s a phone somewhere around this place, and I’m going to use it.”

He disappeared into the crowd and I smiled at the overtired worker behind the table with the bracelets.

“Hi,” I said. I could feel the eye roll behind her covered helmet. “I don’t suppose you saw what just happened. Just to save us some time.”

“He needs to personally get his bracelet and sign in his information,” she said in a voice that was either boredom tinged with hatred or hatred with a side of soullessness. “It’s our way of taking a census on survivors.”

“I understand,” I said. “Completely. But could you just make an exception just this once? I probably know his information better than he does.”

“If I make an exception for you, I’ll have to do it for everyone.” She shrugged. “And I don’t want to talk to everyone.”

“Don’t think of it as an exception!” I said, trying to make my voice gentle and amiable. “I’ll say nothing but great things about you, and assure whatever new government that’s about to spring up that if anyone can be counted on to keep order in a new society, it’s you.”

The woman was silent, and I was unable to see what her facial expression was to see if I had gotten through to her.

“And that’s it?” She shrugged.

“Well, obviously, we don’t have a new government yet, so I don’t know who I’d talk to.”

“I need something tangible.” She pointed her heavily gloved hand toward my bag of hastily put together supplies. “What do you have?”

“Probably nothing,” I said.

Bruce nudged me. “Ask her if she can get me back into the yellow group.”

“Shhh!” I said, opening my bag. “Not much.”

Bruce watched Steve wistfully. “He’s doing magic tricks for kids,” he said.

I turned and looked. There was Steve Harks pulling handkerchiefs out of his sleeve.

“I can do two magic tricks,” he said. “He and I have two things in common now so I should be with that group.”

“Open it wider,” the woman said, standing, peering into it.

I obeyed her as she stuck her hand in. A tube of lip gloss fell out onto the table and started to roll off the edge. She caught it and held it up to the bad lighting above as if it were Indiana Jones’ golden idol.

“I keep this and call it a deal,” she said.

“But that’s my favorite,” I said. “And the color’s probably discontinued.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. You had your chance.”

“Wait,” I said. “So you would have let me get my boss into his color group or any favor for you for this lip gloss?”

She turned her head away. “Snooze you lose. Now it’s mine. Next!” She waved me away.

Robert waded through the crowd. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled. “Next person who coughs on me is getting a royal ass kicking.”

“Wait!” I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I said. “You can have it. Just give me the bracelet.”

She smiled smugly through that helmet and handed me the green bracelet. “What’s his name?”

“Robert Jamison,” I said.

“Birthdate?”

“Uh,” I said. “Robert?”

“Nope!” Robert said, coming up behind me. “It’s October third something.” She handed me the bracelet, which I then handed to Robert. He frowned at it. “Is this the only color they come in?”

“You’re in the green group,” I said. “It’s how you can be found later on. You also get a better bathroom.”

“Later on what?”

Myself and the guard shrugged as Robert turned to Bruce and pointed at him.

“Is this the guy who used to deliver breakfast burritos to the office?”

“That was one time, and he happened to be in the area,” I said. “But this is Bruce. My boyfriend.”

“I thought you were dating that guy with the hat,” Robert said. “Came every day with a salad.”

“That’s the cafeteria delivery guy,” I said, trying to ignore the alarmed look on Bruce’s face. “I don’t know his name.”

“But he came to see you every day.”

“To deliver my food,” I said. “At lunch.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. Bruce seemed confused.

“Can we just say that this is Bruce, my boyfriend, and move on while you put on your bracelet?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Waste of time if you ask me.”

“What about me?” Bruce asked.

The girl behind the table stared at my now lost tube of lip gloss, which I was immediately regretting losing.

“I’m using the bathroom,” I said. “Enough is enough.”

“Attention visitors,” screamed a woman with a bullhorn, standing on empty crates. They too were clad in a hazmat suit and headdress, giving them an eerie sense of authority.

At the sight of her, everyone shut up and stared in awe.

“If you have been classified into a group, please find your color group’s bus outside, ready to take you to your new destination,” she said. “So don’t even try to use the bathroom.”

Before I could hit the door of the bathroom, two guards approached. One gave me a stern shaking of the head.

“God, another bus?” Robert asked. “Those seats were not made for those who haven’t had a spinal adjustment in a while.”

“There’s a business idea,” I said.

“Oh my God,” He snapped his fingers. “You may just have something there. When all of this is over, we make friends with a chiropractor. Put together for me some projected numbers and a possible prototype when we get back to the office.”

“Good plan.”

“Seriously,” he said. “Write that down.”

I opened the palm of my hand and fake wrote it in the air. “How do you spell chiropractor?”

His face was super serious. “I don’t know why you’re making jokes. That’s a great idea, and you’re just not getting it.”

I grimaced slightly but smiled. “My mistake.”

“Really not the kind of team spirit we pride at Mitchellwide Insurance.”

One of the hazmatted figures approached us.

“Do you have a color group?” he asked.

I nodded. “We’re in the green group.”

“Stay here,” he said. “We’re letting yellows go first and in the buses headed toward that spa that’s been turned into quarantine.”

“Come on!” Bruce said. “Are you kidding me?”

Robert snapped his fingers. “We’ve got to get better buses,” he said. “I don’t think my joints can take it.”

We watched yellows get on the bus, then a group of greens before us. Then we were allowed onto one with what looked like the windows shot out of it and a weird smell inside.

“I take it back,” Robert said. “The other bus was better. There better be a seat in the back for me.”

I looked around, wondering why Robert and I were the only ones standing around. Steve walked slowly with five other people, all clamoring for his attention, one of which being Bruce.

“I’m doing a play right now,” he said, practically jumping up and down for his attention. “It’s called Honky and really tackles the issue of racism in America. You would have really liked it.”

Steve didn’t seem to be paying attention, just unraveling strings of what was left of his sweater.

“Bruce?” I asked.

Maybe he heard me, I don’t know. I just watched him try to follow Steve onto the bus and then get steered away from it and toward the bus I stood in front of. Steve’s bus pulled away, and Bruce threw his hands up.

“I was originally a yellow!” he shouted. “Doesn’t that count?”

Defeated, he wandered back to our area. He seemed sheepish about it, but I smiled, anyway.

“They put us over here,” I said, playing dumb. “Probably pretty confusing when all the buses are the same color.”

He gave the worst fake laugh I had ever heard. “Right,” he said. “I get it. I switched to green, but thought I was yellow. It’s a joke on me.”

“Not really,” I said. “It’s a made-up system. None of this will matter tomorrow.”

“Of course you did.”

Debra came out walking in tiny steps, purse clutched close to her body. “Jessica!” she yelled. “Is Robert on that bus?”

“Tell her I’m in a meeting!” I heard Robert call out.

“Of course he is,” I said to her. “You know Robert. Has to get the best seat he can find. Also it’s Verdell.”

“Well, I’ll fix that,” she said.

CHAPTER 3

East is Where the Sun Sets

BEHIND HER, MORE PEOPLE headed toward us and the parked buses in waves. A loud alarm rang, and I immediately covered my ears. Bruce just calmly looked up at the sky as rain started to fall. It hit the ground with a hissing sound, followed by steam.

“What is that?” he asked as a drop hit his arm. “Ouch!”

“I think it’s time to go!” I shouted. I grabbed his hand and tried to lead him toward the bus before he jerked away like a manic Golden Retriever, running after the yellow group again.

A guard soon returned Bruce back to the bus. “This guy belong to you?” he asked.

Bruce looked surly and on the verge of an outburst.

“In a matter of speaking,” I said. “Yes.”

The guard let go of him and shook a finger in Bruce’s face.

“Why do we have any rules at all?” Bruce snapped. “Just because you’re wearing a yellow suit doesn’t mean you can treat us like children.”

“Get on the bus or you won’t get a grilled cheese at the quarantine.”

Bruce turned around and quickly boarded the bus.

“We’re getting grilled cheese?” I asked. “What if I’m lactose intolerant?”

He shrugged and turned away to join the other group of buses.

It was a bumpy ride, and we sat in one of the middle rows. Bruce mostly stared outside, not so much to take in the urban decay going on around us, but probably daydreaming about lunches and moonlight walks on the beach with Steve the actor. Deep down I understood. I wouldn’t have minded sitting next to him either. Good Lord, he was hot in that movie where he played a cowboy with no shirt.

When I came back to reality, I heard rain drops and sizzling as it hit the roof of the bus.

“What is that from?” someone shouted. “Are we going to be all right?”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see a middle aged Hispanic woman. She smiled.

“Yes?”

She shoved a folded piece of paper at me. “Can you pass that to the man in the blue shirt up there?”

I took the paper and gestured to the man up ahead. “Him?”

“It’s my husband,” she said. “I can’t get his attention otherwise.”

I smiled and nodded. I leaned forward and tapped the man on the shoulder. He turned around.

“Your wife,” I said.

“Who?” He seemed confused.

“Your wife?” I handed him the note. He unfolded it, then promptly rolled his eyes and turned back around. I turned and mouthed the word “sorry” to the woman. She waved me away.

At that moment, before I could say a word there was an explosion from outside that rocked us out of our seats and we collided with one another. Screams went up. Terror was at an all-time high as there was the crunch of metal and human bodies. I was huddled in a fetal position too paralyzed to move, even if I really wanted to, but at this point in time, I wanted to disappear into those bus floorboards. I tried to take several deep breaths as opposed to hyperventilating, which was my natural response. When I squeezed my eyes shut I imagined my parents. Mom, petite and full of worry, Dad shaking a finger, saying, “I told you so…”

When the rolling stopped, there was a sharp ringing in my ears and I lay still under a bulk of something that I hoped wasn’t a dead body. I wasn’t going to move. I knew I was hurt, I knew I was bleeding somewhere, but I was afraid of coming apart entirely if I were to stand. Secondly, I could see in my very limited view through the broken window that there was a rogue force getting on board the bus and they had a walk that said they were not to be messed with.

They were masked with what looked like old dish rags and had makeshift weapons—guns with pipes and sharp objects attached with what looked like silly putty. They were dressed in dirty jeans and distressed army pants, but the look was somewhat lessened by one of them wearing a Bugs Bunny shirt.

A dirty boot came down dangerously close to where I hid and its owner pulled out someone who had been in the seat ahead of me, possibly the Hispanic woman’s husband. My hearing was slowly starting to come back and I could now make out indiscernible shouting. Someone fired a gun, which made me jump again.

I can honestly say I’ve never been more terrified than that moment right then and there. I didn’t know how much longer I was going to make it.

“Dear God,” I whispered. “If you save me, I promise I will take a more definite direction in life and listen to wisdom when it’s offered.”

There were plenty of people hiding, pretending to be dead, and I wanted to know if Bruce and Robert were amongst them or actually gone. The thought of being alone was too much and I had to stop thinking or the fear would surely kill me faster than these attackers surrounding me.

People were being grabbed, there were new screams, new struggles going on around me. I should have been actively fighting for the safety of our group, but in all honesty I didn’t know what to do. So I lay still like a coward.

Someone fired their gunshot and then laughed. That was the first sound I registered with my hearing gradually coming back. The ironic thing was I hadn’t heard anyone laugh in weeks. And now there it was in the wake of people’s suffering.

“Listen up, people!” shouted a gruff voice. “If you want to live, you’ll hand over any of the following…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Water, Doritos, Skittles, cookies, battery packs, lotion, aspirin, those wipey things that get stains out or anything along those lines.”

I felt a finger on my exposed wrist. It startled me and I jerked it away.

“Shhhh!” I heard.

I couldn’t tell who touched me or who shushed me. I just didn’t want to be rudely pulled away or laughed at or shot.

Someone jerked my sleeve. I ignored it, mostly because I couldn’t turn my head in the right angle without a sharp pain that had been forming for the last few minutes or attract any unwanted attention. That’s when more stomping came in and the renegades started going through the lost luggage left on the bus.

My heart tightened, and I refused to move. I heard more noises, more shouting and then they marched out. I shivered and felt blood in my mouth.

“Come on!” someone whispered.

I ignored the voice until the person kicked me. “Hey!”

“Stop that!” I said.

“Don’t say that,” whispered the voice.

“Shh!” I hissed.

“That’s you?” Bruce’s voice was far more recognizable now as he crawled over to me and whispered. “Verdell?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re going to get us caught. And why would you kick me?”

“That guy who sat in front of you,” he said. “Was that the guy from Battlestar Galactica?”

“Bruce,” I said.

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Forget it. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

He crawled to me, reached out and took my hand.

I smiled, confused. If we were to be stuck together, I guess I could do much worse. He leaned over and kissed me hard on the mouth.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Kind of bleak right now.”

“We’re alive.”

“I think there’s some renegades outside. Pretty sure they’ve got weapons, and didn’t see you in The Happiest Millionaire.”

“Well—”

“Wait,” I said. I reached for my bag, which was lodged under my knees. I opened it and pulled out that bag of Funyuns.

“Okay.” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to get us out of here,” I said. “Plus, Funyuns are disgusting.”

“Look, I was trying to be optimistic.”

“Sorry.”

Another voice came out of the shadows. “Is it safe?” he asked.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

“I was very important,” he said with an extremely serious face. “I’m head of my division. I’ve held many meetings.”

“Robert?”

“Please be a hot girl,” he said.

I could hear him coming toward me on tiny footsteps. He was ducked low, but looked down and saw me. The disappointment on his face was painful and obvious.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s just you.”

“Yeah, glad you’re alive too,” I said.

“It’s not that. I loaned out my Chapstick to someone on the bus. Don’t know if I’m getting it back.”

I sighed. “Is the coast clear?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Can you see out the windows? Are we still surrounded?”

“I didn’t look.”

“Could you look now?” asked Bruce, who did nothing to hide his annoyance.

He looked up. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He looked around. “Where’s Debra?”

“Weren’t you sitting together?”

“We were,” he said slowly. “Just before the accident she thought someone in the front row had one of those gluten-free snack packs she wanted.”

“Did they?” I asked.

“Accident happened,” he said. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Bruce said.

“Wait,” Robert said. “Someone has to go out first and make sure the coast is clear.”

“What?”

A voice came out of nowhere.

“Who’s there?” Bruce asked.

“Frank.”

Bruce poked his head up. “Do we know a Frank?”

I poked my head up and saw a man standing in the back. “Hi, Frank,” I said.

“Hi.”

“Is there anyone else alive?”

“I am.”

A weak voice came from the other direction. I looked over to see the Hispanic woman from earlier. She had a little bit of blood coming down above her eye.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“My husband,” she said. “I think they took him. He’s not here.”

She was on the verge of tears. Her shoulders shook as she fought for composure. “He was here a second ago,” she said. “He was reading a note from me. And then he was gone.”

Bruce and Robert were silent. It was horribly awkward.

“I’m sure it’s okay,” I said. “He’s probably fine.”

She wiped her nose with her sleeve. “He was just here and now he’s not. He had a cold. He won’t know what to do.”

Debra stuck her head out. “Does anyone have any gum? Preferably the sugar free kind?”

She also had a large gash above her eye, but seemed unaware of it. The five of us were silent, until Frank cleared his throat.

“I have breath mints,” he said.

Debra rolled her eyes. “This is when the survivors envy the dead.”

Frank moved forward. “We have to get out of here,” he said. “I was an Army man. I’ll check it out.”

He marched past us and then stomped out of the overturned bus. He slammed his hand into the door, which now was sideways and stuck. We watched in silence as he kicked and kicked and kicked until it gave way with a shattering of glass.

Bruce leaned over. “Didn’t someone just open that door on their own?”

I shrugged. Frank just seemed to be enjoying things.

Once it was open, Frank jumped out. We huddled in silence as we waited.

“It’s real quiet!” he shouted.

“Frank, shut up,” I muttered.

“I don’t think there’s anyone around,” he yelled.

“Frank, please,” I said.

“I think it’s a shame that you’re so intolerant of someone else’s happiness,” Debra said. “He’s just expressing being himself in the solitude of a new world.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“You are really negative,” Bruce said.

Suddenly, gun shots rang out. I jumped, startled and hit the floor again. Frank yelped in pain for a moment, then his body hit the ground.

I gasped. The rest of the group just stared. The Hispanic woman slowly sank into her seat and held the sleeve to her sweatshirt to her mouth.

“Geez,” Robert said. “What do we do now?”

“Clearly,” Debra said. “The last thing we do is announce to the world that we’re by ourselves and unarmed like Frank did. Idiot.”

“What about this,” I said as I lowered my hands for a moment to let my thoughts out. “Maybe if we get out a different way. I’d like to find my family, so we could head east. Bruce’s family is that way.”

Debra looked down at me. “That is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said.

“I’m with Debra,” Robert said. “We’d be heading toward the ocean. It’s not as populated, and maybe we can find some better help than hanging out in a school bus.”

An older woman approached us, small and stocky, dark hair and dark eyes. She wore baggy shorts and a t-shirt with a patchwork teddy bear on it, offering flowers.

“My aunt lives out that way,” the woman said. “She could help.”

“I’m sold,” Bruce said, looking at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the woman. “Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” Robert said. “She wants to give us free room and board.”

“It does matter,” I said. “I shouldn’t have to explain why.”

The woman smiled again. “My name is Priscilla,” she said. “My husband didn’t make it and I don’t want to be alone.”

“There,” Robert gestured to her. “Are you happy? Lets just follow this stranger.”

I briefly thought about parting ways to look for my family, but the fear of being alone was stronger. So I nodded.

Reluctantly, Debra and Bruce agreed, and we followed Robert out, trying not to look at the bodies along the way, crouched low to the ground so no one would see us.

We followed a wide road that at one time was heavily trafficked and now was completely desolate now. Priscilla pointed out things from time to time, but we were mostly silent.

“If we can get to my aunt’s house,” she said. “We’ll be safe.”

In all this time, I still hadn’t gotten to go to the bathroom. My bladder was in pain, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Guys, I’ve got a thing to do,” I said. With that I dashed behind someone’s Dumpster and crouched down. I unbuckled my pants and relaxed, closing my eyes.

“Verdell, I was thinking,” Robert said.

I opened my eyes to see Robert standing over me.

“Do you mind?” I asked, startled, trying to cover myself. “I’m taking care of some private business here.”

“I can’t talk to Debra about everything, so I thought I’d ask you,” he said. “Do you think I’m filling out around here?” he said, touching his gut. “I try to keep in shape, but lately, I’m not doing the same schedule I’m used to.”

I tried to stand while maintaining all modesty. “Sir,” I said. “You look great, but please pick better timing.” He looked slightly hurt. “Seriously, you look great,” I said. “Don’t sweat it.”

That seemed to make him happy, so I went in the same direction as the rest of the group, Robert trailing behind. We followed them up into what used to be busy neighborhoods, but now were abandoned and broken down. We turned up one street where the entire row of houses had been burned down and left in ashes.

“Where is this place?” I asked.

Priscilla’s face had turned white. “I don’t know,” she said. “It should be here. They were all supposed to be here.”

Her hand went to her mouth and tears welled up in her eyes. I put my arm around her and had no idea what to do next as her shoulders shook. Even then I felt like the human contact I could offer was the bare minimum at most.

She nodded. “Where would everyone be now?”

There was a rustling of the bushes, and both of us tensed at the same time. Her hand squeezed mine painfully tight.

Bruce jumped out of the bushes into sight.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s just you.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, rushing for him. “I don’t know what you think is back there.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Maybe there’s hidden supplies or keys to a car. I don’t know. That’s what they would have done on Burning Rubber.”

I threw my arms around him. “That’s the name of the show Steve Harks was on! Could not remember for the life of me.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped away. “There you go again,” he said. “Taking things I care about and making them into a joke.”

His mood had an instant effect on me. I smiled sardonically at him and put my hands up in surrender. “You’re right,” I said. “I should have just followed your mind path to this abandoned neighborhood.”

“Really?” He sighed heavily. “Can’t you just stop with the sarcasm? It’s always made you really unlikeable.”

A stab to the heart for sure, but for some reason it didn’t hurt as much as it had in the past.

I put my hands down. “Where are Robert and Debra?”

He sighed. “Up the hill. There’s a house, completely empty. It overlooks the ocean on the other side.”

He went to charge up the hill.

“Isn’t there a road?” I called after him.

“It’s all washed out.” He stopped and put his hands on his hips. “You coming or not?”

I went to follow him and tried to take his hand, but was only able to graze it momentarily. For the first time in our relationship, he didn’t want to hold my hand. I put it on my mental con list. It may have taken an Apocalypse, but I was seeing things clearer. I let it go.

Priscilla panted hard behind me. “I’m not used to such hiking,” she said.

“Not much farther,” I said. “Probably. Right, Bruce?”

He didn’t answer.

“Up here!” I heard Debra shout.

We followed the sound of her voice to a large house, once beautiful but now falling apart. Many of the windows were broken out, and people had spray painted messages on the sides of it. It was mostly names, numbers and where they could be found if others were looking for them. I stopped and scanned the scrawling, looking for anything or anyone familiar.

Robert opened the door. “You made it!” he said with a big smile.

“How did you guys make it up here?” I asked. “Especially so much faster than Priscilla and I?”

He shrugged. “Just got tired of waiting, I suppose. Also, Debra had to use the bathroom.”

I shook my head. “There were lots of other houses,” I said. “You just kept going until one spoke to you? Wait.” I looked around. “There’s a bathroom here? You’re telling me I used a Dumpster out in the open like a jerk?”

Debra poked her head out of a broken window.

“You say that like it’s a big fat joke,” she said. “And it’s not. Just because we’re going through a hard time doesn’t mean we have to live like savages. You can still be picky about a bathroom.” She paused, then took a deep breath. It seemed she was doing everything she could to keep her shaky emotions in check. “So just for that,” she said. “No one gets to use this bathroom. It’s mine!” She went back inside, slamming the window.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “That answered none of my questions.”

“Want a tour?” Robert asked. “We were just getting settled.”

I followed his lead. The inside of the house was a wreck. There were brown stains coming down the walls and more spray painted scrawling. A distinct odor wafted through the halls, something like sewage and fresh air, a yin and yang of experiences. There was a couch, its cushions gone, a giant rip through its upholstery and propped up against one of the boarded up windows.

My eye caught Robert holding a framed family photo of people I didn’t know.

“Friends of yours?” I asked.

He shrugged and put it on the ledge.

I followed him into the kitchen where Debra was going through the cabinets.

“You would think you could find something to eat,” she said. “But no.” She pulled out a box of Fruit Rollups. “Please,” she said. “This is a travesty.”

“Its food,” I said. “At least it’s something.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Gluten?” she said. “Sugar? Carbs? I’m telling you, if earthquakes and viruses don’t kill us, this will.” She slammed the box back down. “I will swell up like a balloon unless I find some gluten free options here.” She looked up as Priscilla entered the house. “Maria!” she said. “You made it!”

Priscilla smiled. “It’s still Priscilla.”

Debra waved it away. “And this place is a mess. Maybe a little tidying up, perhaps?”

She turned away, bent down to look in the cabinets under the sink.

Priscilla turned to me, confused. “Does she think I’m the hired help?”

Instead of answering, I looked around. “So this place has a working bathroom?” I asked.

“Yeah, about that,” Robert said, sheepishly.

His face said it all.

“We tried it,” he said. “It didn’t work out.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nice.”

I walked over to the kitchen faucet and lifted the handle. Brown sludge poured out. I made a face.

“Did anyone try finding water?” I asked.

“We just got here,” Debra said. “One thing at a time.” She pulled out a can of pumpkin pie filling. “Gross! It’s like we’ve just given up on ourselves.”

The sludge cleared itself out for a moment and there was clear water for just a brief shining second. Then it was gone.

“There’s got to be a way,” I said. “There’s something wrong with the pipes out there. Maybe if we can fix it, we can at least have water to drink.”

I bent down and examined underneath the sink. It looked as though someone had come in earlier and taken apart the pipes, leaving it all in disarray in the cabinet. I reached into what was still attached and pulled off an old rubber band and dried mud crumbled in my hand.

Bruce came and stood over me. “Guess we’re sleeping in the living room. The bedrooms got taken.”

I looked up. “How many bedrooms?”

“Three.”

“Priscilla took one?” I asked. “That sneaky bitch.”

CHAPTER 4

Find a Water Source

THE SUN WENT DOWN, and what I really wanted was a glass of water. The clean trickle was long gone, so I turned the handle down and then turned it back on. There was a gurgling, but nothing came out.

“Robert?” I shouted.

“I’m upstairs!” he said.

“Do you know anything about plumbing?”

“I know now that the upstairs bathroom is no longer working!”

“No one said you could use that!” Debra shouted.

“Sit and spin, you cruddy skank!” Robert retorted.

I walked toward the stairs and looked up.

“Do I need to separate you two?” I asked. “Make you sit in your ‘get along’ corner?”

There was silence.

“So no word on how to work plumbing?” I asked. “Was the bathroom ever working?”

“I don’t think so,” Robert said, much calmer. “But I used it anyway.”

I rolled my eyes while I felt my bladder ache and beg for relief. I picked up my jacket and threw it on.

Bruce pointed at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I have to go to the bathroom, and the plumbing doesn’t work in this house.”

“You’re not going outside.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe wait until I have to go?”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you have to go now?”

“Nah, I just went about five minutes ago. There was a spot outside the front door.”

“I have been waiting to go for hours, hoping I’d live my dream of indoor plumbing,” I said. “Hours.”

“Make it quick then,” he said.

I ran out and behind the house, ducked behind a rock and unbuckled my pants. Just before I could let anything go, I heard a noise. It was a howl followed by a woman cackling. Probably the creepiest thing I had ever heard, especially since I was vulnerable and cold with my pants around my ankles. I went to button them back up.

“Are you done yet?” Bruce asked impatiently.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Do you think it’s close by?”

I closed my eyes and hummed a few bars of Let It Go. I struggled with my pants after I was done. “It’s creepy out here. I think we should go back inside.”

“Good,” he said. “It’s getting cold out here.”

He shivered deep inside his jacket as the sound went up again. I touched his arm.

“There it is.”

“Did you wash your hands?”

I removed my arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “There’s nowhere to wash your hands out here.”

He made a face. There was another howl, and I shoved my hands into my pockets.

“Let’s just get out of here,” I said. “I don’t want to know what that voice belongs to.”

“Yeah, well now I have to go,” Bruce said. “Stay here.”

With that, he scampered deeper in, tripped over several branches, and then hid behind a tree.

There was the sound of another woman cackling, and I could have sworn there were footsteps coming from just a few feet away.

“Bruce!” I whispered. “Please hurry.”

“I can’t if you’re distracting me!” he shouted.

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed.

“What?”

“I said keep your voice down!”

“What?” he said even louder.

“Forget it.”

I made myself small as I crouched near a bush, hoping for camouflage. Eventually, Bruce appeared, pulling up his pants, then zipping them.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I almost didn’t see you.”

“It’s terrifying out here,” I said. “Didn’t you ever see Blair Witch or Paranormal Activity?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to us. You act like you’ve never been outside at night.”

“I haven’t! Not since the Incident, at least.”

“Oh.” He stopped to think about it. “Well, you haven’t missed anything.”

He took my hand and jerked me back toward the house.

“So now we don’t care about the whole washing your hands thing,” I said.

“You’re never going to survive with an attitude like that,” he said.

“Just asking for some consistency, that’s all.”

He let go of my hand as we rushed back inside.

He didn’t answer, knowing I just wanted to get back in the house, but we stopped when the sound of branches breaking underfoot came from behind us. I was paralyzed with fear, but afraid to look over and see Bruce’s reaction.

“Did you hear that?” I murmured.

“Yes,” he whispered back. He tightly gripped my hand.

“Why aren’t we moving?” I asked.

Silence.

The footsteps started again. I sucked my breath in and moved forward, but Bruce wasn’t.

“Let’s go!” I said.

Bruce took off running, and I quickly followed, but he was much faster than I was. I tried to keep up the best I could. The worst part was the footsteps were running behind us, gaining, followed by the woman’s cackling.

The house was up ahead, and Bruce reached it long before I did. He rushed inside and slammed the door behind him. I reached it and tugged on it, but it wouldn’t open. I banged on it.

“Bruce!” I yelled. “Open up! It’s me!”

I kept trying the door, but it was clearly locked. My fear quickly turned in to anger.

I looked behind me, and while I couldn’t see anyone, the hair on the back of my neck was raised. I knew I was being watched. I started to run again, this time around the length of the house where I found the fence, which I scaled, then jumped straight into the muddy and disastrous backyard. I hit a sloppy puddle, reopened the wound on my knee. I winced in pain.

“Bruce!” I yelled. “Open the door!”

I struggled to get up on my feet and then stumbled to the back door, which was unlocked. I let myself inside and braced myself against the wall, the pain searing through my leg.

Bruce appeared in the hallway. “All the bedrooms are still taken. Want to make a fort in the living room?”

I incredulously stared at him.

I was so tired.

So limped into the living room.

* * *

It’s amazing what the power of a good night’s sleep can do. It can make you have a better outlook and make things around seem not as daunting as the night before. I wish I knew what that was like. Instead, I tossed and turned, feeling my muscles jerk with every noise from outside. And then I watched the sun come up and illuminate the state of the house, which was somehow more disgusting than it was the night before.

I heard a shuffling around the kitchen, so I rolled over, opened my eyes and saw Debra rummaging through the cupboards. Most of the shelves were bare, but occasionally she would pick up that same box of Fruit Roll-Ups over and over, stare at it, put it back, then repeat a few moments later.

All I could think about was how thirsty I was, but the hunger was becoming a close second in terms of thoughts.

“Rosario!” Debra shouted.

There was no answer. I laid there thinking it was strange and wondered momentarily if Debra had finally snapped. Then it dawned on me. It was almost as though she took some sort of glee in not remembering Priscilla’s name.

“Rosario!” she tried again.

I got up, stepped over Bruce and headed over to the kitchen.

“Have you seen Rosario?” Debra asked.

I shook my head. “No Rosario, but I think there’s another person with a different name,” I said.

Debra rolled her eyes. “Give it time,” she said. “She’ll answer to it whether she wants to or not.”

“Really don’t think that’s fair,” I said. “You know she lost her husband yesterday, not to mention everything else she had in life.”

“If you’re so smart,” Debra folded her arms, “then what’s her name?”

“Well.” My mind suddenly went blank. “It’s not Maria…”

Debra pointed her finger in my face. “Ah-ha!” she said. “You don’t know either.”

“Well, I did know it,” I said. “Maybe we should just ask her.”

She waved my sentence away, then looked up and smiled at Robert coming from the upstairs.

“That mattress had no lumbar support!” he announced. “I am going to be stiff all day so don’t expect any hard labor out of me.”

“Screw your complaints,” Debra said. “Another day and there’s nothing in here but carbs and empty calories. I mean…” She threw up her hands in frustration. “It shouldn’t be that hard to make an egg white and kale frittata.”

Robert stopped short of the kitchen. “Well, there has to be something.”

Debra shook her head. “I have scoured this place up and down. Nothing.”

Robert gave off a heavy sigh. “Maybe Maria can make us something.”

“Her name isn’t Maria,” I said. “But it’s not Imelda either…”

I drifted off into heavy thought. Mercedes, Rosa, Maria. Nothing was right.

“Well, good luck getting her down here,” she said. “I’ve been calling her all morning.”

“Her name isn’t Mary either,” I said.

“Then you call it,” she snapped.

“It?” I asked. “It? That’s your gentler alternative?”

“Shhhhh!”

I looked over and saw Bruce sitting up in the makeshift bed with a finger over his lips.

“Dude, I’m sleeping here!” he said, annoyed.

Robert pointed at him “How’s that mattress?”

Bruce shrugged. “Okay.”

“Like, okay how?” he asked. “Was it orthopedic?”

“Not really,” he said. “But I found a spot that was supportive of my lower back. Shoulders were a little lacking.”

Robert snapped his fingers. “You interested in a trade? I slept on one with flowers and clowns on it. My feet hung off and it smelled weird, but it’d probably be more your speed.”

“Like what kind of smell?”

My stomach growled as the three voices rose in their discomfort of life. I glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of our other houseguest, the one who’s name no one could remember, wandering out toward the neighboring houses.

“I’m going to go look for food,” I said.

No one heard me. So I turned around, grabbed my sweatshirt and walked out the door. I shut it hard with a satisfying slam behind me, giving them one last chance to realize I had gone. Even through the closed door, I heard them continue to argue loudly.

Our house guest had long gone off beyond my vision. Unfortunately, I still couldn’t remember her name.

“Mercedes?” I called out.

There was no answer.

I continued to walk up the hill when my foot hit something. I looked down and saw the remnants of a hose. I bent down and pulled it out as far as it would go. The opening snaked out, getting part of my pants wet from a consistent trickle of water that came out of it.

The hose was connected to a house farther up. It was even more dilapidated than the one we’d been staying in, but it was worth checking out. I hiked up to one of the windows and tried to peer in. It was filthy and almost impossible to see through. I thought I saw movement, but wasn’t sure.

“Lupita!”

No answer.

I looked around and grabbed the body of the hose, lying on the ground and tried to lift it out as much as I could. It was heavy and unwieldy, but I managed to also screw on the spigot as far as it would go.

When I got back to the house, dragging the hose on the ground, the arguing was still going on.

“Science has proven we weren’t meant to carry so much gluten in our bodies!” Debra pressed on.

“Trade me,” Robert said. “Another night’s sleep and I’m going to be in no shape to move anywhere, much less running from my life. Again.”

“Look, you had your chance—”

Robert held up his book. “According to Secrets of Risk Management, knowledgeable professionals must be responsible for executing effective risk management programs by taking an objective perspective without consequences.”

We sat in silence. I tried to piece through the meaning of all those words, which felt a little like trying to drive while blindfolded.

“I guess no one can argue with that,” Debra said.

I went outside and around back where the kitchen window was. I slid the hose through it and into the sink where water collected in the sink.

When I returned back into the house, the arguing continued so I ignored the three of them and pushed past Debra to the kitchen sink.

“I think that relates—” she started.

Finally Robert noticed, because he interrupted the two of them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Just everyone shut up for a moment,” I said

Weirdly enough, they did. I turned around to look, only to see him pointing past me.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

“I found water,” I said. “I don’t know how clean it is, but maybe we can use it. Boil it or something. Whatever you’re supposed to do in a survivalist situation. Or in Mexico.”

“I’m sure that’s fine and well if one of us was having a baby.” Robert raised an eyebrow. “How do we know that’s safe?”

“Fair question,” I said. “Very fair. And I don’t know, but no one’s come up with any other options.”

Debra folded her arms. “Get Lupe to test it first. Just so we know it’s okay.”

“Priscilla!” I shouted. “Her name is Priscilla! I just remembered.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. Ninety percent sure. Maybe eighty-five. But I know it’s closer than the names you’ve been calling her this morning.”

“You should be glad I’m not calling the ones I think in my mind,” she said.

“Oh, I am,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong on that.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t know where she is, though. She was here and then she wandered outside.”

“Did she go shopping for us?” Robert asked, looking around. “I gave her a list this morning.”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “She’s got family around here somewhere. She’s probably out looking for them, something we should probably all be doing. And why would you give her a list?”

Bruce was still staring at me.

“You found that?” he asked as he pointed at the hose.

I nodded.

“How long were we arguing?”

I shrugged. “I guess it really doesn’t matter.”

He stepped forward and hugged me. It felt real, it felt good, but maybe there was a hint of something else. Like duty or boyfriend obligation.

The water streamed slowly into the sink, making a dripping noise. The kind of sound that weighs on your bladder.

“Great,” Robert said. “Now I’ll have to go to the bathroom and there won’t be anywhere to do it.”

I found a glass in the cupboard and put it under the makeshift tap. Debra wrinkled her nose at it.

“I don’t know about that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s all we have right now.”

“It’s just bottled water tastes so much better. It’s science.”

I smiled and nodded, then turned away from her.

The glass was half full and had a slight tinge of brown to it.

“Maybe we shouldn’t drink it,” I said. “What’s the rule about this?”

Robert grabbed the glass from my hand and tossed it down like a whiskey shot. He smacked his lips, savoring like a glass of fine wine.

“Not bad,” he said. “Refreshing if anything else. Where can I get some more?”

I pointed at the hose. “Probably have to wait a few more minutes,” I said. “Kind of slow.”

He rolled his eyes and placed the glass under it. “This is bull. We need a better system.”

He tapped his book. “There’s always a better system.” He stared hard at the slowly dripping water.

Priscilla entered, out of breath, arms full of what looked like food. Her eyes were wild, her face sweaty. I rushed over to her as she started to drop the contents onto the floor.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Where have you been?”

“I was chased,” she panted. “I know I was stealing, but I was afraid they were going to kill me.”

I put my hand on her back out of sympathy and then recoiled it slightly at realizing how moist she was.

Debra bent over and picked up a wrapped loaf of bread. She wrinkled her nose.

“Really?” she asked. “Bread? What is your people’s fascination with carbs?”

“Would it make you feel better if she ran back out and got you some kale?” I asked dryly.

“Would that be so hard? Am I asking for the moon here?”

We had a stare down as I reached for the bread. I fumbled through the bag and took a slice out. Slowly, I brought it to my mouth and took a bite. It was soft and comforting, the best thing I’d eaten in weeks.

“It’s delicious,” I said. “Highly recommended if you haven’t eaten anything in days.”

Priscilla dropped the rest of the things in her arms. I saw some vegetables, more bread and a few canned items. I think they were soup.

“Here.” I tossed Debra a bell pepper and tomato. She caught them and then curiously looked at them as if confused as to what to do with them.

“What did you see?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bruce snag one of the cans, take a look, then let his face fall with disappointment.

Priscilla shook her head. “I was being stalked, I could feel it, and then I could hear it.”

She took a deep breath.

“But I saw a couple RVs,” she said. “They were camping. I thought I would go to them and ask if they’d seen my family.”

Debra shook her head. “Really? That was the first thing you thought of?”

“I knocked on the door,” Priscilla continued. “No one answered, so I just walked in. And there was all this food. Maybe I shouldn’t have stolen it, but I was just overcome with—” She choked up. “I haven’t eaten in so long, and they had bread. I’ve been craving it so badly.” She started to cry.

Bruce held up a can of soup. “What’s this?”

Priscilla looked down at his can.

“Clam chowder?” his voice dripped with disdain.

Debra shook her head. “Typical for a gluten addict,” she said. “Can’t discern what they’re allowing into their bodies.”

“It’s okay,” I said in my most soothing tone. “What happened?”

“I almost got caught,” she said. “I grabbed what I could and ran out of there, and I heard shouting and someone threw something at me.”

“That doesn’t mean you bring clam chowder back with you,” Bruce said. “You might as well bring us a visit from the lactose intolerance fairy.”

She turned her head to show her ear was bleeding. “I just hope I wasn’t followed.”

“Did they have water?” I asked.

“I saw a sink,” she said. “It was dripping.” She quickly became apologetic. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get any in time.”

I shook my head. “No, of course not.”

“Did they have a bathroom?” Robert asked sincerely. “What were the mattress situations like?”

“Can you point to me where it is?” I asked.

She nodded and took me into the kitchen to the window by the back door. Bruce followed us.

“There,” she said, pointing to a general space behind the hill. “Behind those trees.”

“Did you happen to see if they had something like a minestrone or Italian wedding, maybe a comforting chicken noodle?”

“Bruce!” I said. “Really?”

“If we cook this, do you realize it’s going to stink up the house?” he asked. “Does no one think of these things?”

She carefully put her pilfered supplies into the cupboard before leaving the bread for herself. She crawled into the corner and gnawed on it while I stared out the window, polishing off another slice. I thought about how I should have gone with her. Together we could have brought in twice as much. I was also struck by how this woman ignored everyone’s ill treatment and still brought them food. It was inconceivable to me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re thinking about going there, aren’t you?” Robert asked.

I turned around and saw that he looked genuinely concerned.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” he said. “What matters is that Iris is okay and that we continue to look out for each other.”

“Priscilla,” I said.

“Priscilla,” he said. “Her too.”

He was thoughtful for a moment.

“Promise me something,” he said sternly.

I stared at him, inwardly refusing to move my head in agreement to whatever it was he was about to say.

“Don’t go down there,” he said. “At least not by yourself.”

He turned around and left.

Bruce entered, still holding the can of soup. “This is disgusting,” he said. “I would kill for some beef with broccoli at that place we used to go to. You know the one? By your house?”

I shook my head and smiled, thinking about what it’d be like to be in a house full of different people. I tried to imagine my parents huddled by the fire, singing songs and grateful for the clam chowder that was in front of them.

I waited the entire day, long into the night, before I left the house again. I bundled up as best as I could and made sure everyone was fast asleep before quietly shutting the door behind me. I said a quick prayer under my breath and tried to follow Priscilla’s vague directions.

I tripped several times and felt an eerie chill, but pressed on until I could see lights—fire lights down below followed by human voices that sounded actually happy. When I was able to get a clear view, I saw everything just as Priscilla described it—a few RVs on the sand. There were people going in and out, and I smelled a hot meal cooking over flames. My stomach rolled over and begged me for it, but I stood still, taking in as much as I could.

A blond-haired man came out of the middle RV, holding a guitar and stood at attention in the center of the campsite.

“Hey, everyone!” he shouted. “Who’s up for singing a few songs before we say goodnight?”

The others clapped and cheered in agreement. He had a nice voice, but there was something familiar about it. I knew I had heard his voice somewhere before.

“It’ll be a few more minutes until dinner’s done,” he said. “Who’s got a request?”

A man raised his hand. “I know we did it last night, but it was so much fun to sing that song about how we’re all fireworks,” he said.

There were a few groans. Someone else raised their hand.

“Let’s sing that song about being stronger,” a young college age woman said. “You know the one. Stronger as a people, or dreaming something. That one.”

There was some scattered applause, and the leader tuned his guitar. Within a few minutes, he had hit a few opening chords and people started to sing. I hummed along, wondering the last time I had sang aloud in a group.

I crawled closer to the action and tried to sit myself down comfortably where I could hear everything. The smell of food was more powerful than ever and my stomach growled incessantly. I had only eaten two pieces of stolen bread, mostly because Debra made fun of Robert and Bruce for it and I wasn’t in the mood. But now I wished I had.

There was a rock poking me in the backside, so I shifted around, only to accidently sit on a branch and break it. That stopped the music and caused everyone to freeze.

“No one panic!” the leader whispered.

I froze too. These people seemed nice and were happily adapting to a simpler time, but here I had disturbed it, setting off whatever anger they’d unleashed at Priscilla. I turned around and made a move to crawl back up the hill when I heard someone shout. My pants were now slipping and I had to pull them up.

“There!” they said. “Someone’s spying on us on the hill!”

Just then, someone shined a light on my backside, perfectly framing my ass crack, which was now exposed from the slipping waist of my jeans. I tried in vain to climb up, but a mild sand slide made my feet slip. I turned around to see the entire tribe staring my way.

I grimaced. “Sorry!” I said. I straightened, turned around and put my hands up in the air. “I don’t mean you any harm,” I said. “I heard your music and just wanted to see what it was.”

Everyone was still staring. I shook, but tried to take long, deep breaths to make myself seem calmer.

The leader took a few steps forward and raised an eyebrow. His face, silver hair and rugged features were extremely familiar, and I knew that I knew him. I had never met him, but I knew I had seen him somewhere, like on television.

He held his guitar protectively in front of him like a shield. I kept my hands up.

“Where do you come from?” he asked.

With one hand I gestured up. “Over the hill,” I said. “There’s a house that a few of us are staying in for the moment.”

“Are you the ones who stole our food?” one of the women shouted.

“Why aren’t you at one of the quarantines?” he asked.

His voice was deep and smooth like a radio announcer’s.

“Our bus was attacked,” I said. “We don’t know where it is.”

“You can understand why we don’t trust you,” he said. “Right?”

I nodded. I stared at him when it suddenly dawned on me where I had seen him.

“You’re Darren Warren, aren’t you?” I asked.

A large grin came over his face. He nodded and seemed a bit more relaxed, put his hands in the air. “Guilty as charged,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“I thought so,” I said. “You seemed really familiar.”

He clasped my hand in both of his. “So good to meet a fan.”

For those who don’t know, Darren Warren was the city’s predominant theater critic. He was a thin man of smallish stature, older with a hard-set chin ready to judge at any moment’s notice. Normally, I wouldn’t follow theater criticisms, but Bruce did and frequently had shown me reviews with pictures of Darren’s glowering face. He had only been to one of Bruce’s plays, and while the review wasn’t positive or negative, he just felt very nonchalant about Bruce’s performance. He also had spelled Bruce’s name wrong, which was the biggest source of sorrow for him.

“The fact he didn’t even bother to know my name,” he’d wept over coffee, the paper in front of him. It was the morning after a performance, and he’d been so excited to see the review. He’d given no sign of letting it go, which meant I was never going to hear the end of it, which I didn’t for almost three weeks. And now there was Darren in front of me and I felt growing excitement over what could possibly happen when Bruce found out.

He beamed. “Which one of my reviews did you like best?” he asked.

“That one,” I said carefully. “The one you did about the guy. It was very serious. And moving.”

“Ah. Geography of a Horse Dreamer.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “Sam Shepherd at his most honest. That was a good one.”

He gathered his robe tightly around him. It seemed as though he might have been naked under it. I prayed to God that wasn’t the case.

He clapped his hands. “Thank you,” he said. “That means a lot to me now that an era of the theatrical arts has passed. Who knows what new inspiration will rise? What’s your name?

“Darren!” someone shouted. He looked over his shoulder, where three of his wide-eyed followers in bathrobes earnestly stared at him.

“Don’t you think we should have a group discussion?” asked the man in the middle.

“About what?”

“Some of us want to perform a Breaking Bad episode, but some people want to watch something else. Lighter fare, if you will.”

The three looked anxious as the man in the middle rubbed his palms together.

“I see.” He pursed his lips and looked at me. “Do you mind if we excuse ourselves for the moment?” he asked.

“Please,” I said. “I’m the one who crashed your party.”

He smiled and pointed at me as he backed away. “That’s good. You don’t have any acting experience, do you?”

I blushed. It was involuntary. “Bet you were pretty convinced that I was terrified a moment ago.”

He turned away and joined the rest of his tribe. He spoke impassioned, but in low tones that I couldn’t hear. I tried to lean in, but a few of the other bystanders gave me the side eye. I could tell I was not to be trusted, but they seemed to nod to whatever it was Darren said.

They broke into polite golf applause.

“We will be watching an interpretation of Friends episode 323. The One with Ross’ Thing, starring our very own accomplished thespian, Steve Harks.”

Darren returned to me with open arms and pulled me up to my feet. “As for you…”

He took the time to enjoy his dramatic pause, closing his eyes, gripping my hands tightly, and reached down and grabbed some fat around my waist. I jerked away, a little creeped out.

“You are full of everything we want,” he said.

“Am I?” I said. “Okay.”

He looked at me, his smile slightly went downturned.

“I mean,” I said quickly. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The smile came back.

“It’s just been so long since I’ve heard a kind word,” I said earnestly. “No one’s arguing here.”

His hands went to my shoulders. He pressed down on them, seemingly feeling the muscles I had.

“Can I have a hug?” he asked.

I nodded, and he pulled me in. The rest of the group applauded. His hands went to my upper back where again he felt the muscles and fat around my bra.

I gently eased away from his embrace, and he let me go.

“You said you’re not alone?” he asked.

“Well, not technically,” I said. “I came with a group, but if I gave you a description of any family I have—”

“Never leave your friends behind,” he said. His voice was high and gentle, also weirdly consoling. “In these dark times, they’re all you really have.”

“But you have water,” I said. “You have Friends. The show. And the actual kind it looks like.”

“The world has a way of disposing of things that it doesn’t need anymore,” he said. “You let the universe deal with such silly things.”

I nodded. “You’re right,” I said. “You’re right in a weird way that I never thought about.”

“We have to give up the ways of thinking that we’ve gotten used to,” he said. He stared me down with his big eyes. “Now tell me. What can we do for you?”

I thought for a moment. “I would absolutely love a shower,” I said. “And a working toilet.”

He smiled. “Then you shall have one.”

He led me toward one of the RVs, where I bristled with excitement over having the first real shower in weeks. But there was a slight damper on it as I looked around at the rest of the group, which was only about thirty people. They had strange reddish markings on their face and vacant looks in their eyes.

“Smells great,” I said. “What’s for dinner?”

No one responded, so I kept moving on.

I pointed to the tribe cooking and setting out place settings for everyone.

“So nice to see civilization surviving,” I said.

“Sweetheart,” Darren said. “You are welcome to water and bread, but the rest is not for you.”

I nodded and allowed myself to be pushed inside the RV with a clean fluffy towel that had a green stripe and the Holiday Inn logo.

* * *

Later that night I crept back to the house, food and bottles of water in hand. I entered the back door quietly shutting it behind me before I noticed in the darkness there were two silhouettes sitting at the dilapidated kitchen table.

I was startled, jumped and dropped a bottle.

“Who is that?” I squinted, trying to identify the figures.

There was a deep sigh. “Ideally,” said Robert’s voice. “We would have switched on the light when you entered. It would have made a more dramatic presentation.”

“You can’t be dramatic without candles,” Bruce said. “Couldn’t find any, but whatever.”

“For what?” I asked.

“You broke your promise that you weren’t going to go out alone,” he said.

“I never promised,” I said. “You made your statement, and I never gave you a yes or no.”

“You can’t see this,” he said in the dark. “But I’m shaking a finger at you. Because what you’ve done is incredibly dangerous.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I went looking for drinkable water. And I found it.”

“Really?” Bruce’s voice broke out. “Is it Fiji or Voss? It better not be that Aquafina crap. That stuff hurts my teeth.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “When it’s offered, you don’t ask what’s on the label. And how does water hurt your teeth?”

“Wait,” Robert said. “Who offered it to you?”

“Why are we having this conversation in the dark?” I asked. “Can’t we at least sit in the living room or wait until morning?”

“Fine,” Robert said. “But as your employer—”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “If Mitchellwide doesn’t exist, then I am not your employee.”

“To keep you safe in all lands,” he said. “You can trust Mitchellwide hands. That’s just an ideal philosophy you should still be following!”

“Now is not the time to quote the company ad logo!” I said. “I did data entry and lied on my time card, so there’s no point in waving the corporate loyalty flag!”

“That’s disappointing to hear.” He stood, tripped over the fallen bottle, but recovered. “Son of a bitch!”

“Careful.”

“God, I miss electricity,” he said.

I set the rest of the things down. “I got a bag of chips,” I said. “The baked kind. Just for you.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “Who? Me or Robert?”

“You of course.”

“It’s late,” he said. “The last thing I wanted to do tonight was wait up, hoping you’d come back.” He stood, also tripped on the bottle. “Oh come on!”

His silhouette gained balance back by steadying himself on the doorway.

“Damn it,” he muttered, then disappeared into the living room. I listened to him fall into the makeshift bed. “Are you coming to bed or not?” he shouted.

I didn’t answer. I sat in the chair and rested my head on the table.

* * *

In the morning I woke up to find Debra face down in a bag of pretzels that I had snagged from the RV community.

“Did I fall asleep here?” I asked.

She lifted her head and stared at me hard. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra pair of shoes, would you?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I don’t,” I said. “I wish I did.”

She narrowed her eyes, but then sighed. “My feet are killing me. I don’t think I can go another day in those shoes.” Her voice became shaky as the tears welled up. “These were my favorites, but they’re killing my feet.”

“Maybe we can find some shoes somewhere.” I reached for the bag. “May I?”

She held the bag just out of my reach. “I’m used to being hungry, but I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

I held out my palm. “Can I have one?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I just ate this whole bag.”

“But I got them for us,” I said weakly.

“Next time get two.”

She stood, taking a long swig of water from the bottle. Robert entered.

“I hope you’ve thought long and hard about why you weren’t in bed,” he said to Debra sternly.

I snapped to. “That’s what she said!” I shouted. “That’s what she said!” I relaxed. “God that felt good to say.”

Debra raised her eyebrows at me. “Who’s she?”

I looked at Robert, but he stared at me with the same blank expression. “You guys have heard that joke, right? You hear something that could be vaguely sexual and say. ‘That’s what she said.’”

They were staring at me, and I felt both awkward in their judgment and thankful I had never pursued that career in standup comedy.

“Neither of you have heard that expression?” I asked.

They continued to stare at me in stony silence.

“You know that joke kills with the marketing department.”

Debra cleared her throat, got to her feet and went into a downward dog position. “No one talk to me while I’m one with the universe,” she said, taking deep breaths.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I meant to ask, who’s this group you saw?”

“They’re weird,” I said. “Almost culty. They sing, they have an odd language of feel good terms and they were really interested in my muscle tone. Or fat tone. Something like that. And I think the leader really wanted to meet the rest of you.”

“Who’s the leader?” he asked.

“Darren Warren,” I said. “He’s the art critic for the paper.”

“Wait,” Bruce said from the other room. He ran over and poked his head in. “Darren Warren?”

“Yes.”

“The Darren Warren?”

“Yes.”

He kicked the kitchen table and waved his arms in anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “We could’ve had a different conversation that would have led to me becoming best friends with Darren Warren.”

“Well, we just started talking about it.”

“These are things you should tell me right away,” he said. “You know how much I would give to just get in the room with that guy. He spelled my name wrong in a review of The Farnsworth Incident, and I never got the chance to explain it to him.”

“If it helps,” I said, “he seems more excited about TV reruns these days. Besides, you never tried to explain that play to me.”

He rolled his eyes and stood. “God!” he yelled. “Why is everything such a joke with you?”

I was a little stunned at him, but I sucked in my breath. “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was wrong of me.”

He paced around the room in a cold silence.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I really am.”

He was still silent.

“I don’t know what I can do to convince you of that,” I said. “But we’re kind of living in a time where we probably need each other more than ever…”

He let his voice drop, then went into a heavy pause. “Or something.”

Debra popped her head in.

“I’ve figured out why you look so much better than the rest of us,” she said.

“Oh?”

Bruce stared me down.

She pointed a bony finger at me. “You had a shower, didn’t you?”

I swallowed hard. “Did the universe tell you that?”

“No,” she said. “Just felt I had to say something.” She turned on her heel, winced and hobbled out.

“I can’t believe you were going to hold that out on us too,” Bruce said. “The Verdell I used to know would’ve been more concerned about my interests. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“You have no idea,” I said. “The meaningless nothing conversations, the constant arguing. I had to see what else was out here.”

“And just leave us?” he asked. “Was that your plan?”

“If I wanted to leave,” I said. “So maybe.”

He folded his arms. “Great. So when do I get to meet Darren?”

I thought back to the weird calm of the RV site, the all too eagerness of his inclusion of myself and others.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s kind of strange over there…”

I let my voice trail off, uncertain of how to describe things. He stood back, folded his arms, self-satisfied.

“Fine, then. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” he said. “I think we need to break up.”

“Break up?” I asked. “Isn’t that going to be kind of awkward?”

“I think its just time we started seeing other people.”

“Who are you going to be seeing?” I asked, looking around. “Debra?”

She poked her head back in. “What?”

Bruce impatiently waved her away.

“We’ve really just been more friends than anything else this whole time,” he said.

“Debra?”

He sighed heavily. “No, still talking about us. We’ve been playing this charade for too long.”

“Three years?” I mused. “Maybe.”

“Let’s face it,” he said. “This whole situation has changed you.”

“It’s changed everyone,” I said. “Although I’ve noticed that you use me for networking a lot more than you used to.”

“Be serious,” he said.

“I am.” My tone seemed to take him by surprise. “I don’t know why I never noticed it before, but it’s true,” I said. “And if you want to make things really awkward for us, then go right ahead.”

“Then I’ll move out,” he said. “I’ll go find your new best friend, Darren, and you’ll have to sit on the outside, looking at us having all the fun, doing all of his fun projects. He’ll spell your name wrong, and I won’t defend you.”

He stomped over to the couch fort and scooped up his belongings.

“You’re welcome to date whoever you want,” he said. “Welcome.”

“That’s generous of you,” I said. “But I’m a little disturbed that that’s where your mind is going to in a time like this.”

He shoved his things into his backpack, made his way to the door and then suddenly stopped.

“Maybe Steve Harks is single,” I said. “I’m sure someone that eligible won’t be on the market for long.”

He turned around. His face had a gentler demeanor, a complete turnaround from just a second ago.

“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry. You’ve been such a great girlfriend, and I really want us to be friends. I know every couple who breaks up says that, but I really mean it. And if you need anything you can always come to me.”

I nodded. “You too,” I said. “I understand that your career is now coming first, above people and your survival in these tumultuous times.”

“I’m taking the pretzels. I think I deserve it.”

“You’ll have to see if Debra left you any,” I said.

“Son of—”

He stormed out of the house; let the door slam behind him.

Robert entered, chewing on the heel of the loaf of bread that I had pilfered.

“What’d I miss?”

I shook my head.

“Is he getting more pretzels?” he asked. “Because the sticks are better than the twisty kind.”

I let myself collapse onto the makeshift couch bed and closed my eyes.

CHAPTER 5

Know Your Surroundings

SO MANY THINGS had happened during the three years since Bruce and I started dating. I had watched him dabble in an unsuccessful open-mic career where he told jokes about online dating. We watched coverage of a presidential election where he picked a fight with my father over his view on tax breaks, and then he made the Boston marathon bombings about himself.

“How is this about you again?”

He’d watched the coverage on TV through misty eyes. “I could have been there at that time. That could have been me.”

“But you haven’t been back to Boston in two years. Were you supposed to be there?”

“Just forget it,” he’d said. “You clearly don’t get it.”

In those three years, he had also slept through every movie that I picked, never ate any of my cooking and always chose a Patriots games over time with me. I supposed I should have noticed the signs, but there we were in this moment in time and it was over. True, the days of us hanging out on his couch over the weekends and spending evenings with friends, well, his friends, were never coming back anyway, but it felt so unnatural to try to reconcile that my plans wouldn’t take into account of his.

“Are you okay?” Robert asked.

I looked up at him. He seemed genuinely concerned.

“There are bigger things wrong, I suppose,” I said.

He pulled out his textbook. “Know where I turn when I’m feeling down?”

“Not to the secrets of risk management.”

He made a pitying sound with his mouth, opening to a page in his book. “You’re missing out. Listen. The chances of achieving organizational objectives while protecting enterprise value will be maximized by having a clear grasp on business realities, understanding what ‘risk’ is, tying risk tolerance to performance, and deploying risk management above and beyond compliance activities.” He looked up and beamed. “Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

“I literally don’t know what any of that means or why it’s relevant,” I said.

“It’s comforting,” he said. “Truth is a valuable commodity. And so are quality girls like you. That’s what I get out of this.”

“I’m thirty-three and not a girl.” I smiled. “But thank you again.”

He nodded and then turned away.

I closed my eyes again and fell asleep.

I woke up and heard the slamming of the door a few hours later. I only opened my eyes slightly when I felt a heavy weight flop down onto the cushions next to me.

“Bruce?” I asked.

He laid there, back to me, but didn’t answer.

“Are you okay?”

More silence.

“If you’re awake,” I said. “It’s really awkward to have you lay here next to me and not talk. Unless you’re having a change of heart.”

“Oh, we’re still broken up,” he muttered. “Don’t you worry about that.”

“Then why are you laying here?” I asked. “There are other rooms in this house—”

He rose. “Where am I going to go then?” he asked voice raised. “Debra just talks about the food she’s not eating, Priscilla cries all the time and your boss is just a walking TED talk!”

“Why are you yelling at me?” I asked. “You’re the one who wanted more options.”

“This is so typical you,” he said. “Just keep making it all about yourself.”

“That makes no sense,” I said.

I turned over when he didn’t answer me. Priscilla emerged out of the darkened corner of the room, completely startling me.

“What the hell, Iris!” I said. “How long have you been creeping in there?”

“I’m Priscilla,” she said.

“Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “Everything seemed so private I felt weird about it.”

“Now it’s just awkward,” Bruce muttered.

“Priscilla, how come you’re not sleeping in your room?” I asked.

“I don’t like it,” she said. “There’s a weird smell.”

“Problem solved,” I said. “Bruce, sleep in Priscilla’s room.”

He muttered something I couldn’t understand.

“We should do another food run,” Priscilla said. “Everything is going to run out so quickly.”

“Well, I’m not doing it now,” I said. “I just came back, and it was weird and exhausting.”

She slumped down onto the floor. “I need something to do. I’m going crazy.”

“Let’s wait until the evening,” I said. “I’ll go with you then.”

“I can’t stay here much longer,” she said. “I want to claw the walls or something.”

Debra appeared in the doorway. “You’d probably really enjoy cleaning the bathrooms and bedrooms. Might make you feel a bit normal. You’ll have to wait until morning, of course.”

I slept for hours. When I woke up, there were candles lit and Bruce was in the kitchen playing cards with Debra and Robert. There was laughter and loud conversation as Robert finished an anecdote.

“…and then my sister goes, ‘If that wasn’t you I caught with my sister, then report yourself to science for the awesome clone job!’”

I joined them, laughing along despite having no idea what made it funny and took a seat, hoping for their acceptance. I cleared my throat, smiling big. There was immediate awkward silence, and Bruce looked down, suddenly too interested in hands.

“Has anyone seen Priscilla?” I asked.

Debra didn’t answer, just looked up at me, covered her mouth and let out a fake cough. Robert mashed buttons on his BlackBerry and Bruce’s fingers had taken on a new level of fascination for him.

“Anyone?” I asked.

“Is this a new friend of yours?” Debra asked.

“No,” I said. “Priscilla. Remember? The woman you keep mistaking as the help.”

“Now I keep thinking her name is Lupe,” she said. “I have got to write these things down.”

Robert didn’t look up from what he was doing. “I sent her out for more food,” he said.

“But she said she wouldn’t go alone!” I said. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“Like you care,” Bruce muttered. “Probably just want to keep Darren to yourself. Well, he’s not going to give you a very good girlfriend review.”

“How are those options coming?”

He rolled his eyes and shifted around in his chair. “About as good as your support for others.”

“Then why am I the only one worried about Priscilla?”

There was a heavy silence again. I grabbed my jacket that hung on the back of an empty chair. I marched outside, zipped up the coat and headed in the direction of the RV community. The sun had almost all but gone down, and my skin prickled at any moving shadow or sound that came up.

I made my way to the RV camp and slowly approached it. People gathered around where there was a brightly lit fire and a delicious smell that wafted from it. I hung by a tree, waited to see Darren or Priscilla, but neither showed up.

It didn’t matter. I slyly joined in the commune anyway by sidling up to different members, trying to blend in. Darren entered and he nodded in my direction as he passed by. His thin, small frame was wrapped in a terry cloth robe, which he wore grandly.

“Welcome, my child,” he said. He reached out and grazed my cheek with his hand.

Once he was settled in a lawn chair decorated with sheets and toilet paper, his followers brought out a feast on trays and plates put on a long picnic table covered with a sheet. We stood around the table and waited for Darren’s blessing, which was just a hand gesture. His fingers fluttered and lowered, and everyone immediately sat and began to eat. We ate everything I loved in this world, except I wasn’t allowed to eat any meat. Every time my hand hovered over a meatball or burger patty, one of his followers slapped my hand away, so instead I went for the mashed potatoes, the dinner rolls, the pitchers of watered down cherry Kool-Aid. It was insulting, but I didn’t want to seem rude, so I just stayed away from it. The group sang stupid songs I hated when I heard them on the radio, but I sang along too, enjoying the feel of community for the first time. When that was over, I got to use the showers to clean up. After the sun came up, I crept back to the house and crawled into bed as if I didn’t know anything. The next day I snuck out again before anyone was up and made my way to the camp.

I was about to cross the threshold into the site when something grabbed my arm and jerked me backward. Startled, I lost my footing and fell directly onto the ground. I whipped my head around as a hand covered my mouth. Panicked now I went to scream when I realized it was Bruce.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

I reared back. “What, are you following me now?”

“I’ve thought about it,” he said. “We need to be more understanding of other people’s needs. Like mine.”

I wrestled out of his mouth grasp. “I could ask you the same thing!” I hissed.

He let go of me and let me get to my feet.

“I got suspicious,” he said. “Thought you and Priscilla were going to hog Darren Warren for yourself.”

I brushed leaves and dirt off of me. “Trust me,” I said. “That sounds like an awesome and logical plan and something we would totally do.”

At that moment, Darren emerged from a RV, and Bruce gasped.

“It’s him!” he whispered. “It’s really Darren Warren! I was hoping you wouldn’t be lying and you weren’t!”

“Why would I lie about that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe you wanted to win me back.”

“Again,” I said. “Another awesome and logical plan I should have tucked away.”

He grabbed my hand. “I’ll take it all back if you introduce me. Everything. We can even get back together. If that’s what you want.”

I looked into his eyes and saw the desperation. “Why do you want to meet him so badly?” I asked. “Any of these people will probably give you pretzels or whatever. I think I saw a bag of Oreos yesterday.”

He shook his head. “Networking! When this is all over, who knows what kind of deep relationships we’ll have built, and you know a good review from him can get me any part in the community theater circuit. Maybe Robert’s right.” He took a deep breath and stared at the sky. “We’ve been given a gift. I can feel it.”

“This is the quarantine situation all over again,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You wanted to follow that actor,” I said. “We could have found my family, or you’re family, but you cared more about what Steve Harks was doing.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s nonsense. You know I only cared about you, but it’s time you cared about something other than how things look. The time is over to stop worrying about how others see you.”

I shook my head. “Maybe one of us is missing the point in this situation.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s about time you figured at least that out.”

He took a step forward and tried to jerk me along, but I held back.

“I don’t think you should just barge in on them like this,” I said. “They don’t respond well to random strangers coming in.”

At that time, a chant arose as the people of the commune came together. They raised their arms high and raised their voices. Four people stepped forward into the center, each holding part of a thick stick with a charred body tied to it. The voices started to cheer as they hung the stick over the pit and let the fire erupt suddenly.

I was horrified and I drew back.

“What’s going on?” Bruce whispered. “Is now a good time to introduce me?”

I shook my head. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this,” I said. “We should just find Priscilla and get out of here.”

“Wait,” Bruce said. “You were here to find Iris? Or is it Priscilla?”

“What did you think I was here for?” I asked.

“I thought you were here to make me jealous.”

“Stop saying that!” I said.

He folded his arms and looked away.

“Fine,” I said. “Stay there and sulk, but something’s wrong, and we need to get as far as we can from these people.”

Darren stepped out into the middle. He wore his usual bathrobe and held a crudely made staff.

“Friends!” he announced. “We are here tonight to celebrate the gods who have granted us another day of survival.”

Bruce crept away.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“It was foolish of me to think you’d ever think of anyone other than yourself.” His voice was distant as he disappeared into the bushes.

I rolled my eyes. “Well, at least be careful out there!”

“The granting of lives is never free!” Darren said. “And for that, there is always a payment due.”

The group stared at him in reverence.

“And that’s why anyone who trespasses in our holy sanctioned community must pay the price for the breaths we breathe on this evolving planet.”

“We hear and we appreciate!” the crowd murmured in unison.

“We bring this sacrifice,” Darren said. “This woman who entered our domain without permission and without the respect we deserve. Her charred flesh is a reminder of how fragile our lives are without the gift of sovereign protection.”

“It will educate our minds and satisfy our bodies.”

“Perhaps she had a name,” Darren said. “We’re going to assume her name was either Maria or Rosa.”

“Maria,” said the crowd.

“The gods have shown their will for Maria, and we are to benefit from it.”

“All paths will be made evident.”

“Amen,” Darren said.

He lowered his arms and then rubbed his palms together. “Let’s eat, folks.”

A girl came up behind him with paper plates and handed them out to the people around the fire.

I had a horrible feeling. An awful and sickening feeling, and I couldn’t shake my own intuition. Not Priscilla, please not Priscilla, I prayed. I prayed that she would come through the bushes at any moment and that this would all be one big misunderstanding. The body shape over the fire, the remnants of clothing now being used to burn underneath her—it was Priscilla. The smell was enveloping me, and I hated that it smelled like anything I’ve ever smelled at a cookout or a steakhouse. I was sick to my stomach. The nausea rolled around in my stomach, expanding and moving without any of my own control.

So much so my knees buckled and I vomited on the ground. I tried to keep it as quiet as possible, wiping my mouth. When I got back to my feet, I spotted Bruce on the other side of the compound, creeping around, seemingly oblivious to the horror that happened in front of him.

I couldn’t let him go through it so I went after him the long way around, trying to move soundlessly through the branches and leaves. My heart beat heavy and quick as I tried to catch up with him, stomach still making waves. He stepped into the clearing, and the crowd noise automatically stopped. As did my heart.

I watched him through the tree branches as he walked out, waving both hands.

“Hey, how y’all doing?” he asked in his overtly friendly way. He had a big goofy grin on his face, almost as though he were about to host his own talk show.

The RVers stared at him. No one smiled back. No one waved. They just stared in creepy unison, and he just kept walking closer. He spotted Steve Harks, gave him a goofy smile.

“Hey, man.” He offered his hand in greeting.

Steve ignored him and kept on walking.

He finally stopped walking and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “Is Darren here?”

The people put down their plates.

“And what’s this I hear about appreciating surviving another day?” he asked.

They continued to stare at him. I cut through the clearing and took him by his jacket sleeve.

“Bruce,” I said, quietly.

He turned around and looked at me.

“You’re here.” He sulked. “Great. Turns out Steve Harks is a member. Nice of you to keep that to yourself too. I suppose you’ve been buddies with Liam Neeson this whole time.”

“We have to go,” I said. “Please.”

They closed in on us. The look in their eyes was pure malevolence, their hands clenched.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “I don’t understand this.”

He started to back up and tripped over my feet. I went to steady him, gripping him tightly as I threw my arms around his chest.

“Let’s just go.”

Darren stepped out of the crowd, his lips tinged slightly red, as if he’d eaten marinara instead of blood.

“You!” he said. “You’ve returned!”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, trying to pull Bruce away. “He wandered away. I know he has no business here.”

I bumped into someone from behind. I turned and looked to see four of the members now holding me stationary.

Darren shook his head. “Sarah—”

“It’s Verdell,” I said.

“Why correct me?” he asked. “On your last night on earth, does it really matter?”

I swallowed hard, squeezed Bruce tighter.

“Please,” I said. “Just let us go. No harm done. We’re just lost, and we’ll survive on the other side of the hill.”

Bruce rolled his head back. “Darren?” he asked. “May I call you Darren?”

Darren stared him down with steely eyes.

“I would love to send you my reel,” he said. “Just to look at whenever you have a moment.”

“Your reel?” he asked.

“I was in a play that you reviewed,” Bruce continued. “I played the lead. Probably the most rewarding role I’ve ever experienced. You were nonplussed by the whole production. Frankly, I blame my costar. She didn’t understand the gravitas of her character.”

“Excuse me?” Darren asked.

“You called me Brian,” Bruce said. “You called me Brian Meals, but really, my actual name is Bruce Helio.”

Darren smiled and then withdrew his long, ragged homemade stick. Without an ounce of hesitation, he stabbed Bruce directly in the arm, grazing the side of my chest. Bruce immediately collapsed and gasped in pain. Blood oozed from the wound. He convulsed for a while, and I sank to my knees and threw my arms around him.

“It’s going to be okay!” I said, feeling panic grow. “It’s just your arm!”

“If I die,” he said. “Find my mom and tell her being an actor is a real job.”

“Well, no,” I said, trying to prop him up.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, briefly making contact with mine as Darren poked the side of his body with his fancy foreign sneaker, which now had a ragged hole forming.

Hands grabbed me and pulled me to my feet, forcing me to let go of Bruce. Darren braced his stick. My mind reeled and the world seemed to move in slow motion, but in the far reaches of my memory, I saw myself as a twelve-year-old in karate class. I saw my old instructor.

“Strike the weakness,” he’d said. “Keep your head.”

With all my might, I stomped down on the foot of one of the robed men and jabbed an elbow into his side. He let go for long enough for me to slip through his hands. One of the other members tried to grab me as Darren aimed for me but missed. I held the palm of my hand out and shoved it with force into the other attacker’s nose. He screamed in pain, and I ran.

I ran and ran, tripping and falling, and at some point I banged my knee into a tree trunk, and it was then I stopped, out of breath and my mind reeling in fear.

I stopped long enough to hear the chanting below.

“He was not worthy for another day on this Earth!” Darren exclaimed.

The crowd cheered.

Poor Bruce. He was finally the center of attention and most likely getting a good review from Darren Warren. My body shook so badly the only thing I could do was fall to the ground.

It was so dark out, but I could make out the shadow of a cabin up ahead. The last thing I wanted was to die alone in the forest, so I took my chances and ran for it instead of the house.

CHAPTER 6

Humanity is a Two-Way Street

THE CABIN REEKED worse than anything I had ever smelled and I gagged after taking a step inside. I felt something soft and squishy under my feet, which made me thankful it was dark. In the corner by a window was a chair, and I moved toward it and then grasped the back of it, vowing to not sit on the floor.

I covered my face with the lapel of my jacket to block some of the stench.

At least it makes for an easier breakup… a tiny voice in my mind sputtered.

It was shocking that a thought like that even existed in my head.

“People are going to be much more sympathetic when they hear about it….”

I’m really not sure what I was more horrified about. The fact that I thought it or the fact that I agreed with it.

A shuffling came from outside, and I froze up again, nose still under my jacket. There were voices muffled and hazed, and I shivered in fear. I whispered a prayer under my breath and sank deeper into the chair, asking first for forgiveness for the horrible thoughts I’d had just moments prior.

“…and my BlackBerry still doesn’t work!” I heard the voice exclaim.

I jerked my head up and looked through a nearby grimy window only to see Robert shuffling through the dead leaves and holding up his device to the sky.

I almost breathed a sigh of relief, but the stench wouldn’t allow it. Immediately, a reflex in me, made me suck back in the breath, which caused me to retch on the floor.

Which was when Debra entered the room and saw me.

“Dammit,” she said. “A homeless person beat us here already.”

“It’s just me,” I said.

“That smell is you?” she asked.

“I don’t know what it is,” I said. “But it’s not me.”

“I don’t think there’s any way we can’t prove it,” she said. “So I’m just going to assume it was you.”

“How did you find this place? What are you doing?”

She covered her face with her hands as Robert entered.

“Debra made the toilets flow. Is there a working outlet in here?” he said. “What the fuck is that smell?”

“She says she doesn’t know,” Debra said, rolling her eyes. “I have my suspicions.”

“It’s not me!” I said. The hurt and desperation from everything was building and my voice cracked under its own weight. “I don’t stink and I’m not a bad person.”

“If you’re going to cry, you should pick something better to cry about,” Debra said. “Bruce was right.”

“Bruce is dead!” I shouted. “He’s dead. And now he’ll never apologize to me for being a jerk.”

Both were silent.

At that moment, I sobbed and couldn’t stop. The smell and thought of Bruce so violently killed was too much to handle, and it was the only thing I could think to do. I cried for not knowing if my family was alive. I cried because I was willing to spend my time doing data instead of something that really mattered, like looking after stray puppies or something. Debra and Robert just stared at me while it happened.

She shrugged and mouthed, “I don’t know.”

At some point, I felt someone rub my back in a slow comforting manner. I looked up and saw Robert standing next to me, his face full of genuine concern.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “What happened?”

“It’s those people,” I said. “The ones we took supplies from. I tried. I really tried to warn them and—”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The stench in the room didn’t help either.

“You know what I like to think about in times like this?” Robert asked as he opened his risk management book and started to read. “It’s difficult to effectively respond to things like hours upon hours of complaining. Wanting to toot someone’s horn, but another team member getting upset at that. Wondering why the balance of power in the office suddenly shifts when a new employee is added. “

I was confused, and I looked at Debra, who nodded as if she heard rich, transcendent insights.

“I don’t think any of this applies.”

“Of course it does!” Debra snapped. “This is just basic logic. It’s like food for my soul.”

I looked up at Debra, who covered her mouth with her jacket.

“What are you both doing here?”

Robert took a deep breath. “There was an incident.”

“What happened?”

Both of them exchanged looks.

“We were bombarded,” he said.

“They took everything,” Debra said.

“We didn’t have anything,” I said. “Did we?”

“I really wanted the rest of those pretzels,” she said.

“Of course.” I said. “Who was it?”

Robert shrugged. “They wore masks and made a lot of noise.” He rubbed his forehead. “It was terrifying.”

“Were they the people from the RVs?”

Debra gave me another dirty look. “How would we know?” she asked. “We weren’t special enough to go down there. At least according to you.”

“So masked people came and scared you into giving them your pretzels?”

“It’s more serious than that,” Robert said. “They wanted that house, and they wanted everything there and they didn’t care if we lived or died. They asked for you.”

“Me?” I asked incredulously.

Robert and Debra nodded simultaneously.

“But you made it out,” I said. “I’m sure there’s a million Verdell Sonobes. That could have been anyone.”

Debra nodded. “I thought if I let them see my boobs that would do it.” She started to cry. “They didn’t want to.”

“Wait,” I said. “Are you upset that they took everything or that no one wanted to see you naked?”

She angrily wiped tears away. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“Guess not,” I said. “Are you sure these people were looking for me.”

“Look,” Robert said. “We made it out and that’s what’s important. It doesn’t matter what we might have lost in the process.” He seemed momentarily shaken, but then recovered. “The question is what we’re going to do now.”

“We can’t stay here,” I said. “The smell alone is just one major reason.”

“Agreed,” he said. “What have you got?”

“What have I got?” I asked. “How would I know where to go from here? I got us this far and that was due to following around Priscilla.”

“Where’s she now?” he snapped. “If she’s so forward thinking, you should have kept up with her.”

“She’s dead.”

There was an awkward silence. Robert cleared his throat and went to speak again, but closed his mouth.

“I was hoping this day would turn around somehow,” Debra said. “Something tells me it’s all a wash.”

He snapped his fingers at her. “What was that place those hooligans were talking about?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What place?”

“That’s what I asked you.”

She shrugged.

He sighed heavily. “They came into the house.”

“Yes.”

“They threw me up against the wall.”

“I remember that.”

“They threatened me with a stick. It involved my bottom.”

“I was packing at that point.”

“Dear God!” I said. I touched his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He waved me away. “Think, Debra, think!”

She rolled her eyes into the back of her head.

“Were they all women?”

“Maybe,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “They kept talking about a base camp somewhere,” she said. “A bank maybe?”

“Are they coming back? Did they say how they knew me?” I asked. “Bank of America? Citibank? Which one?”

“Did they say there was sign?” Robert asked. “Maybe says Bank of America.”

I stared him down, but he ignored me.

“That’s exactly what I was just asking,” I said.

“Just trying to help.”

“Maybe we should head down that way,” I said. “It’s got to be better than waiting for cannibals to come and get us.”

“Cannibals?” Robert asked panicky. “More cannibals?”

Debra shook her head. “I don’t want to run into that gang again.”

“It sounds like they were just hungry,” I said.

“Of course! They wanted to eat us,” Robert said.

“Well,” Debra said, folding her arms. “You said cannibal and now it’s real.”

Suddenly there was a light that burst through the window. We simultaneously ducked.

“What was that?” Debra asked.

“Flashlight,” I said. “I think.”

“Stop talking,” Robert said. “Both of you.”

We crouched in silence as we could hear a shuffling that came from the outside. My first thought was that it was the weird commune from below, but there were no men’s voices.

The door slowly creaked open. The three of us huddled into the shadows.

“Oh, dear god,” one of the voices said.

“What?”

The door quickly shut. “There’s a smell,” she said. “I think there’s something dead in there.”

“I’ll bet that’s what that smell is,” Robert said.

“Shhh!” I said.

“Wait,” Debra whispered. “Something’s dead in here? Where?”

“Shhh!”

“At least turn on a light!”

“I think now’s a fine time not to have any light.”

Debra began to hyperventilate. “I can’t. I can’t be in here now.”

“Please, Debra,” I said. “At least wait a moment.”

Her hand went to the top of my head and then found the door handle on the wall behind me. She jiggled it.

“At least someone turn on the light or something. I have to know what’s in here,” she said. “Verdell, you go first.”

“Absolutely not,” Robert said. “I don’t think this place has electricity anyway.”

Debra stumbled over me and jerked the door open.

“Don’t go out there!” I said.

She ignored me and shot out the door, arms flailing. Robert and I leaned up against the doorframe.

“Hey!” said a voice. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Don’t hurt me!” Debra said. “Don’t hurt me!”

“Take her down!” the voice called.

Robert took a peek outside.

“They’ve got an ATV,” he said.

“What?”

“An ATV,” he said. “No one’s looking after it. They’re distracted with Debra. We can make a run for it.”

“I can’t even tell if she’s okay,” I said.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. With that, he dodged past me and out the door, laughing maniacally.

“She’s not alone!” I heard a voice say. “Check the house!”

I took a deep breath and launched out the door after Robert. I could only catch a glimpse of him as I ran blindly in his general direction, but I saw him jump onto the ATV, which was parked behind a tree. He gestured to me as I sprinted to meet him.

I climbed onto the back of it as he started it up. It jerked forward, and I almost toppled behind it, but I grabbed his waist and held on tightly as we sped off.

It then occurred to me that I was grabbing my boss by the waist. It was weird, so I loosened my hands slightly.

“Anyone behind us?” he asked.

I looked and saw nothing. “Nope,” I said. “You’re good.”

“By the way,” he said. “I’ve got a pretty bad wound where you were clutching. Do you mind putting your hands lower?”

And that’s when things got even weirder.

We drove down a bumpy, broken road when we noticed hastily made signs. The words were made with paint, which had been smeared or faded out by the rain.

I pointed one out to Robert, who slowed down the ATV.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“One of them says, ‘…tine,’” I said. “Like quarantine?”

“I’m following it then,” he said.

“At this point, what if it’s been abandoned with weird cult people who drink cat urine to stay alive? Or something worse. Like Libertarians.”

“I’m going to be impressed that they found a way to farm cats,” he said. “And thank you for making that a very real thing in my mind.”

“Which thing? The cult or Libertarians?”

“Both.”

And so we sped on.

The signs led us to yet another site, another large tent surrounded by more chainmail link fencing. More people huddled, more mud, wearing sad dirty ponchos. The sight of it alone made me deflate.

“These are our options now,” I said. “Being ushered like cattle or urine cabins.”

“Maybe they’ll have sandwiches,” he said.

I had to nod. That sounded awesome.

He pulled in through the slightly open gate and was immediately stopped by a security guard.

He stared at us through a shielded helmet. “Number please?”

“Excuse me?” Robert asked.

“Your quarantine number,” he said. “The one you were issued to get in.”

Robert looked at me.

I pulled out my bag and withdrew the green bracelet issued at the last point. “Does this mean anything? The green group?”

The guard looked at it, almost shocked.

“You were at the West Quarantine?” he asked.

Robert nodded. “Just a few days ago.”

“How did you escape?” he asked.

We both stared at him.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“We heard that the quarantine was taken down,” he said. “Our communication went out, but we expected some of our guys to come back from there. And they didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “Bunch of people got released into a storm of acid rain. Some punks tore the place apart looking for some girl.”

“Why didn’t you just call them?” Robert asked.

I leaned forward. “The communication was down,” I whispered into his ear.

“Does that mean we still can’t use the phone?”

I ignored the statement. “Is there room for us inside?”

The guard handed me back the bracelet. “Go right in,” he said. “You might as well stay, but who knows how long we have here.”

“Thanks, officer,” Robert said.

“Oh, I’m not an officer.” He shrugged.

Robert flared up the engine again, but the guard held up his hand. “You can’t bring that in here,” he said. “Uh, in fact, it’s ours now.”

Robert was visibly disappointed, but obeyed by dismounting. I watched as the “not an officer” took the ATV and drove off with it, laughing into the distance.

We walked into the tented area, which was packed with people, huddled cold and obviously low on optimism. Someone shoved a bundle into my arms. I looked down and saw it was a blanket.

“Find a spot,” the uniformed voice said. “Anywhere you can. We’re going to be sealing off the area as soon as the sun goes down.”

Someone handed a blanket to Robert. He stared at it like he’d never seen one before, but reluctantly took it. He held it to himself and then took in his surroundings. He groaned.

“Not in the mud,” he said. “I’m so sick of mud.”

“Well, there was a house with someone dead inside you could go back to,” I said.

He stared me down. “Remind me to put that comment in your review.”

“Ha,” I said. “Good to see your sense of humor’s still around.”

He turned away and started to walk. So I trailed after him because I didn’t know where else to go or stand. At least walking with him wouldn’t make me seem like such an outcast amongst all these people.

We walked the length of the area, which was full of families, crying children and huddled groups that were either getting to know each other or up to no good. A line for food had snaked its way around us.

“We are out of plates!” someone shouted. “You will not be issued one if you don’t have one already.”

A very loud synchronized groan went up from the entire group standing in line.

We ended up settling toward the back end of the tent next to a power generator, squeezed in between two families. Robert smiled at them, but I kept my gaze to the floor. I sunk to it and dropped my bag next to me.

“You folks from anywhere around here?” I gave them an overly big smile, knowing they would know I was trying way too hard.

The mother shook her head while the rest of the family ignored me.

“Want anything?” Robert asked.

“Water,” I said. “I would love some water.”

He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” He winked. “Don’t go away. I’m coming back for you.”

I winked back. He dashed off.

I took the blanket and shoved it under my head like a pillow. I let my eyes close, but when I opened them again, I saw a boy, maybe fourteen, walking off with my bag.

“Hey!” I said.

Either the kid didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me. I jumped up and followed him, quickly matching his pace.

“Hey!”

The kid started to run, tightly clutching my bag. So I ran after him. I had nothing of real value in there. It was just the principal of the matter. That was mine. It was the only thing I had left in the world, and I was getting shown up by some junior high punk.

I caught up with him and jerked the bag.

“Hey!” I said again.

The kid seemed surprised and tried to stare me down.

“Hey yourself,” he said. “Let go!”

“This isn’t yours, and you know it,” I said, gripping the straps even tighter.

The kid tried to jerk it away. “It is mine. My aunt gave it to me.”

“Really?” I asked. “Then maybe you can tell me what’s in it.”

“Uh…Skittles.” The kid jerked even harder, but I was stronger.

“Let it go,” I said. “Try stealing from someone your own age.”

A woman stared at us. “What are you doing with that child?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said, holding fast. “There’s some confusion on what belongs to who.”

Three other women joined her. “Are you stealing a child’s belongings?” another woman asked.

“No.” I was defensive. “I’m not. It’s quite the opposite.”

The kid started to cough. “I don’t feel well.”

The women gasped. “You’re harassing a sick child?”

“How is this going to affect his self-esteem?” the third woman shrieked.

A hand came down on my shoulder. I looked up without loosening my grip. A man stood over me. He was handsome and had kind, soft features despite his gaunt and sad sack appearance.

“Miss, I’m going to ask—” He stopped. “It’s you.”

I stared at him. “Jake,” I said.

He cocked his head. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same about you,” I said. “I’m more surprised that you’re in town than just in this tent.”

Jake swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

Jake, that is, my ex-Jake, and I had history. Some people would classify as our current Apocalypse as their worst phase of life ever. Mine was actually three years prior.

Five years earlier, we were engaged, and I had never felt happier, healthier or smarter. We had a future, we had a plan, but it didn’t work out. He woke up one day, stopped taking his meds and it was downhill from there. The last time I saw him was around one am when he had pulled up in front of my apartment, truck packed with his belongings. He wasn’t himself, but I thought it was a phase, so when he gave me an ultimatum, I didn’t take it seriously. He disappeared into the night, and I didn’t hear from him again. Afterward, I hit an emotional bottom, doing the one thing I didn’t want, not being hungry for my favorite foods and calling my parents—a first in five years. Despite that, I came back stronger, at least strong enough to weather through a three-year relationship with a man I had passionately mild feelings for.

And now, here he was, staring at me with the same surprise I prayed so hard not to convey.

He cleared his throat. “I was in town,” he said. “When the incident happened. There was a friend. Well, you remember Paul, my old roommate.”

“Oh, so you were in town, stopping by to see people you were close to but didn’t get closure with.” I nodded. “How’d that turn out?”

If he noticed my biting tone, he wasn’t letting on. “Why are you harassing this boy?” he asked.

The kid stared up at me and gave another jerk, but I held steadfast.

“I have a funny way of not letting immature boys just run off without accepting responsibility for what they’ve done.”

Jake blanched slightly, but the kid finally let go.

“Fine,” the kid said. “It’s stupid and smells bad.”

“If you find a mirror, repeat that statement to yourself.”

The kid ran off.

Jake shook his head. “Where’s your compassion?” he asked. “It’s needed more than ever.”

“Did you give him your bag?”

“I have no belongings,” he said proudly. “And if I did, I’d share what I had. We live in a world where some things are no longer important. I’m less encumbered and have learned what freedom really is.”

“Must be nice,” I said. “To just let go of any responsibility and not worry about what people close to you might think.”

He deflated. “It was so long ago,” he said. “Why are you so angry?”

“Why so angry?” I asked. My voice rose over the crowd noise. “Why the animosity? You never apologized!”

“I’ve made my peace with what happened,” he said. “I would think you would too.”

“You never gave any closure!” I said. “You just left!”

Heat rushed all over me and adrenaline coursed through every vein in my body.

“You got to leave and pretend like nothing ever happened!” I said. “You didn’t even apologize.”

He shrugged. “It was best to leave. I thought we agreed on that. How’s your family, by the way?”

“You left in the middle of the night and told me if I didn’t come with you we were done. That’s where you left things. And I don’t know how they are. I keep trying to look, but stupid things like this happen.”

I folded my arms, completely frustrated at this gangly man I used to spend so much of my time and emotions with.

“It wasn’t the most positive thing I could have done.” He took several deep breaths. “You look great,” he said. “It looks like you’ve done really well for yourself.”

“Still not an apology.” I tightly clutched my bag to myself. “It’s good to know you’ve done well as a human Hallmark card.”

I turned away and ignored the sound of Jake calling my name. I didn’t even know where I was going, just started walking away until something grabbed my arm.

It was Robert, offering me a cup of water.

“Hey!” he said. “I’ve been calling your name.”

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just noisy.”

“You were moving awfully fast,” he said.

“Kid tried to steal my bag,” I said defensively. I held it up to show him.

“I hope you kicked his ass.”

“Almost the opposite happened,” I said, dejected. “But thank you for taking my side.”

He nodded and led me back to our blankets. “You’re really red,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Let’s just get through another night.”

As I sat, he smoothed out the blanket.

“And it looks like you’ve had no problem moving on,” Jake said. “Who’s this handsome drink of water?”

We both looked up as Jake stood over us, hand extended in friendship. Robert took it and vigorously shook it.

“This is my boss, Robert,” I said. “And not that it’s any of your business, but you left five years ago. And for your information, I’ve had a lot of boyfriends since then, not just whatever comes around. Ask around.”

“Plus, her boyfriend is dead,” Robert said. “It’s awkward, but she’s available, in case there’s anything you kids want to rekindle.”

I shook my head. “These are the kind of conversations we can look forward to,” I said. “So thank you, Apocalypse.”

Jake put his hands up. “I’m just saying. There’s no need for animosity.”

“Really?” I asked. “Is that your idea of an apology?”

He pulled out a bag, reached inside and withdrew something square shaped and wrapped in plastic. “Can I offer you a sandwich?”

I took it and tore into it. “Ham and cheese?”

He nodded. “You like ham and cheese, remember?” he said. “We went to that Subway near Malibu Beach. You got a ham and cheese.”

“Well.” I smiled. “They were out of roast beef.” I said. “Thank you. By chance is there a roast beef in there?”

“I’d have to look,” he said. “Most people don’t make me go through all of it—”

“Sorry,” I said. “You’re right, this is good.”

He offered one to Robert. “I think this one might be turkey,” he said.

Robert took it. “Thanks, man.” He turned to me. “He’s great. Maybe you two should get back together.”

Jake turned to me. “For what it’s worth,” he said. “I’m sorry. What I did to you was unacceptable.”

I nodded. “Apology accepted,” I said. “And thank you.”

“Have you had the tour?” he said. “Not to brag, but I think we’ve got humanity up and running the way it should be.”

I surveyed the crowded area, wrinkling my nose at a smell that could best be described as combining the worst of everything.

“This is all you?” I said, looking up to his sincere face.

“I can’t take all the credit, of course.” He bent down to pick up a stray soccer ball, and then threw it to some kids who looked bored. “But quite a few of my ideas are in play here.”

“Like what?”

He pointed to the far east side of the room where people were doing a sloppy and unsynchronized version of yoga. “Over there, we’ve got some positive physical exercise going on.”

He gestured over to where two girls had their hands in makeshift sock puppets, doing an animated song and dance number. “Entertaining the children, of course. Whitney Houston was right. They are the future.”

“The food line?” I said. “Was that yours too?”

He shook his head and seemed a little disappointed in himself. “I envisioned a large communal tub of soup, but there weren’t any tubs big enough. Plus, someone got murdered in the prototype.”

I nodded. “Sorry to hear that.”

A group of people in the opposite side of the room caught my eye. They were gathered in a circle, eyes closed, singing something.

“What’s that?” I gestured to it with my finger.

“Church,” he sighed. “People getting in touch with their spirituality.”

“What kind of church?” I said. “Do they have a pastor?”

He steered me towards where women were going through great piles of clothes. “No, we tried to have some kind of structure, but no one could agree on who or what to worship much less the message. Every idea we threw out, someone got offended by it.”

I studied them again as the congregation made some kind of nonsense hand gestures that weren’t in time with anyone else’s.

“So they’re just doing whatever they want,” he said. “When they figure out the meaning of life, maybe they’ll clue the rest of us into it.”

“At least you’re trying,” I gave him an encouraging smile.

He reached out and squeezed my arm. “I’ve been waiting to see that smile for a long time now.”

He walked away. I felt warmth of familiarity come over me as I watched him go. He bent down and gave a sandwich to a little girl, then offered her a hug. It’d been so long since I was with a genuinely nice person, and I was being convicted for being so stubborn about a bag. It was all coming back. I was reminded again of when I wanted to marry him.

Robert smacked me on the hand with his turkey sandwich. “You okay?”

I nodded.

“I remember when you two broke up,” he said. “Mostly I remember you sitting at your desk, not doing your job. Particularly the time someone came to me asking for your reports and they found you in the bathroom sobbing.”

“Okay, look—”

“Anything would just send you off. Your cubicle neighbor kept playing that Adele album—”

“That’s not entirely what it was—”

“It came up as an agenda topic during a senior staff meeting. The consensus was, let’s ban Adele’s music. It makes the sad employee downstairs even sadder and it’s distracting.”

“I think we get your point—”

“I announced my nephew, Taylor Lautner, was coming in and anyone could come and meet him and you said you couldn’t be in the same room as anyone named Jake.”

“Thanks, Robert,” I said. “I had no idea how far your empathy spread.”

“Hear me out on this,” he said, taking a bite. “I know when a girl’s had her heart broken. I’ve done it plenty of times I’ve watched it even more times. Mostly because that Pretty Little Liars show is deceptively emotionally layered.”

I watched Jake now entertain four kids with a quarter and a woman’s scarf as Robert rolled his eyes.

“I will not talk to you until you get that silly half smile on your face.”

“What?” I asked.

“I’m giving you gold pearls of wisdom,” he said. “Don’t waste it.”

I sighed. “What?”

“He made you miserable,” he said. “I remember. No one who would have cared about you that much would have put you through the kind of hell you went through. I saw it on your face every day.” He shoved my sandwich at me. “You didn’t eat for months. I would see you in the break room, tearing up your food in these sad pieces. It was so awkward, and I was like, who is this sad person?”

I took a bite and nodded. Ham and cheese was way better than I remembered.

“He had his good points,” I said. “Never failed to convict me on what I could be doing. He genuinely cared about me.”

He raised an eyebrow at me and then threw my blanket at me. “Eat your sandwich,” he said. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll see if you’re sane in the morning.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever slept in quarantine, but sleep is almost impossible to get. The lights never shut off, there is weird smells, bodies are rolling up against you and the noise level never goes down. So I laid there and spent my time thinking instead. Every now and then I looked at Robert, who apparently, could just sleep anywhere, despite his previous pleas for lumbar support. He used his book as a pillow and spooned a tiny brunette.

Jake, on the other hand, nursed someone who was throwing up violently. I watched that happen too, my mind traveling back to when I threw up in the bathroom of that Italian place and he stood by the door. He left to jump start someone’s car and then disappeared for another hour to meet their kids. It was the ultimate in attention trumping that I couldn’t argue with.

As I stared at the scenes of human interaction around me, I thought maybe my sarcasm did get in the way of happiness, both in myself and in others. And maybe I was wrong to let Jake go. Someone so willing to put themselves in another person’s filth could never be on the wrong side of the argument. Probably why Mother Theresa was single—she was too good for everyone. Seemingly so, anyway.

It was at some point I got up and went to the public bathrooms, which were port-a-potties at the far end of the wall. When I was done, I washed my hands in a long trough of sinks that were being used for a variety of purposes. Jake followed me there, cleaning himself off.

He saw me and smiled. I smiled back. He motioned me to come over.

“I have a confession to make,” he whispered.

“Oh?”

He smiled. “It’s like God has something bigger than this planned.”

I nodded. “What are we up to now? Three Biblical plagues? Seems about right.”

“Are you still staying over on the east wing?”

“If east is that way.” I pointed to where Robert slept soundly. “Then yes.”

He took my hands. His were wet, but I didn’t mind.

“I’ll come and find you in the morning,” he said. “We have so much to catch up on, and I know time is a precious resource. Especially since we’re on such a good vibe.”

I nodded again.

“I really missed you,” he said. “Not everyone could make me laugh like you.”

I smiled. “There’s no one really like you,” I said.

“That means a lot to me.” He let go of my hands and smiled softly. “I’ll find you.”

I went back to where Robert was still sleeping. Next to him was a middle-aged woman who had a shiny bag near her. Her eyes were closed, but I could see into the shiny bag. A tube of Clinique lipstick stuck out of it so I reached over and took it, then slipped it into my pocket. Somehow I was able to sleep after that.

* * *

I stood in the breakfast line wearing lipstick, but I couldn’t find Jake. The woman who had slept next to me had gone into hysterics over her missing lipstick.

“Where the fuck is it?” she screamed. “Some asshole thinks they can steal my lipstick?”

I stared at the floor, holding my bowl. I pursed my lips, momentarily hiding them.

Robert stared down at me.

“Someone’s all dressed up. When did you go lipstick shopping?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know anything about the time you took my spot in line and therefore took the last chicken Caesar salad.”

“You’re visualizing salads now?” He looked confused.

“No, this was two years ago,” I said. “And I didn’t say anything then, but it really bothered me.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “We’re living in a different world now. No one cares about salad.”

“But we should care about lipstick?”

He raised an eyebrow. I took a deep sigh and looked down at the lipstick in my hand.

“Fine.”

I made my way back to the woman who shouted at one of the security guards and made wild gesticulations with her arms.

“What kind of operation is this?” she asked, teeth bared. “I close my eyes and everyone thinks its open season?”

“Ma’am,” said the tired guard. “It’s lipstick. I’m sorry for your loss. Hopefully, this is the worst thing that happens to you during this time.”

“You’re not going to help?” she asked, grabbing the lapels of his uniform. “You’re not going to interrogate anyone?”

“Excuse me,” I said, gently approaching them. “I think this belongs to you.”

I held out the tube and waited for her to turn her wrath on me. Instead, she slowly took it out of my hand, staring at it in awe.

“You had this,” she said. “You? And now you’re giving it back?”

I nodded. “I’m sorry, I took it and it was wrong.”

She nodded and cleared her throat. Her breath quickened and her cheeks went flush. For a moment, I thought she was going to break into tears. She pointed at me and hissed at the guard. “And that’s how you do it!”

She turned on her heel and marched off in the other direction. The guard looked at me.

“Did that make any sense to you?” he asked.

I shook my head when Jake approached me. He gave me an approving nod then gently squeezed my shoulder. I smiled broadly at him, staring at his hand.

“Hi,” I said.

“That was so nice of you.”

“What was?” I said. “What’s on tap for breakfast?”

“You’re going to be the glue that holds this place together. I can feel it.” His face was worried and gaunt. “It’s oatmeal,” he said sadly. “I tried to get cinnamon, but…you know. People will be so disappointed in me.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.”

“More importantly, we have to bunker down,” he said. “I wanted to let the two of you know first, but don’t say anything to panic anyone.”

Robert stared at him, then me. “What are you talking about?”

“Sometimes we have to put the quarantine under lockdown,” Jake said quietly. “It’s because of the Wanderers.”

“The who?”

“They wander and pillage,” he said. “They’re ruthless. They came a few weeks ago, made an awful noise and terrified us all. They also killed an old man.”

“And you say they’re coming?” Robert asked. “How do you know this?”

Jake started to shake his head. “We have access to a weak satellite signal,” he said. “We know when they’re coming.”

“So what happens?” I asked.

“We’re going to cut the power,” Jake said. “Soon. We hope that if they think there’s nothing here, they’ll pass by it.”

“There’s no way,” I said. “Have you seen how many people are packed in?”

“It worked once,” Jake said. “There were less of us at the time. That’s the key. But people tend to put aside their fears in times of trauma.”

“According to who?” I asked.

“Let me know if you need help.” Robert offered his hand.

Jake shook his hand. ”I’ll remember that.”

Word spread and rather quickly. I expected pandemonium, but instead, people seemed to take it in stride. In the afternoon everyone carried boards in a single file line toward the outside of the quarantine. We watched it for a while before Robert joined in. It was at that point I noticed a woman my age, chin-length short, dark hair, stocky build, wearing a University of Texas sweatshirt. She stared at me.

When the sun started going down, that’s when the lights began to shut off. I sat in the same sleeping spot as the night before and waited for Robert and Jake to come back. Robert came by first and Jake joined him as the last lights were being turned.

“Have you seen Destiny?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Destiny?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know who that is. Unless it’s that weird guy who tried to sell me semen earlier today.”

“You have to make the most of your potential.” He tapped his risk management book.

I grimaced. “I didn’t think I looked that desperate.”

It was now completely dark and there was a loud bang that came from the outside, which startled me, but Jake jumped up and stood at attention. He then collapsed to the floor and burrowed his head in my lap.

“I hate this part,” he said. He started to shake, and I realized he was crying. I knelt and put my arm around him.

“Don’t cry,” I whispered. “Its getting too sad and I’ll have to start cracking jokes again.”

“If we could only reach out to these people,” he said. “We could just make it all go away.” He sobbed now with big audible gasps as he slumped over my lap. “I just wish things were the way they used to be.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“If people could just smile at each other,” he said. “I hear the sounds of fighting and it gives me nightmares.”

“Fighting?” I asked. “Everyone seems so calm. This can’t last, can it? I keep hoping, but it won’t last.”

My left leg had fallen asleep under his weight and I tried to shift it, but it was pinned without any hope of release any time soon.

“Just the weight of the world is so heavy.”

“I know what you mean.” I tried to shift again, but there was no moving it.

The darkness was becoming overwhelming, and the entire area was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, the quiet sobs and shuffling of limbs that were in better shape than mine.

So in that dead quiet, the fact there was a crash came as a bigger shock and opened a chasm of panic that quickly erupted. Jake suddenly jumped up from my lap. The blood returned with stabbing prickles.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The doors!” someone shouted over the panic. “One of the back doors didn’t get boarded!”

“We’re all dead!” Jake screamed. “We’re all going to die!”

I frantically looked around. “What was all that talk about staying calm—”

It was at that moment when the fires of human emotion in their most extreme form broke out and I had to fight to cling to a pole to prevent being trampled on. There were the sounds of more crashing, screaming, when suddenly a fire broke out and part of the tent went down with it. It occurred to me, I was terrified someone was going to smash my head with thick-toed soles. Someone ran by who was completely on fire, then a gun shot went off followed by more screams. Some people on the other side were getting trampled. I sat on the floor, clutching the wall, hoping for some kind of safety when a large woman with a heavy bag bulled her way through. She swung it.

“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching out to her.

“Get out of my way!” she screamed.

Her bag, which must have been filled with bricks or cartoon anvils, hit me on top the head. It hurt like a mother and made me cower even more near that wall. “Ouch!”

She marched on and didn’t give me a second thought, so I snuggled under a blanket and closed my eyes. I was aware of the jostling of other people around me, but I tried to concentrate on a memory, scanning through as many as I could until I stopped on Christmas when I was seven years old. I unwrapped a box while my parents looked on and beamed. I opened the box and saw a puffy paint sweatshirt with two goofy reindeer holding a wreath.

When I woke up, it seemed as if everything had calmed down. Most people were sorting through their belongings, and cleaning up the gruesome mess from the night before. I was processing the sight of dead bodies, blood smears on the walls and then the smells of blood and excrement. The last time I had seen a dead body up close was my grandmother’s funeral and even then I could only keep a safe distance from it. There was a pain in the side of my head where someone or something had dropped that heavy weight on me and it was now bleeding sporadically. I wrapped it with a dirty pillowcase I had found on the ground. While I did so, I saw Jake crawling out of an overturned box. I considered saying something, but let the moment go.

Instead I went to find Robert. I pushed past the crowds of people until I found him at a makeshift infirmary, getting his wrist tended to by a pretty petite brunette woman, mid 20s, in an Atlanta Falcons sweatshirt and black leggings with a stethoscope around her neck and a needle in her hand. He waved me over the second he saw me.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

I joined him on a table made from aluminum siding and cinder blocks.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Mostly just fighting not to get any internal organs smashed.”

The woman pointed at my head. “What happened to you?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Something or someone hit me. I don’t know.”

“Does it hurt?” Robert asked, tilting his head to get a better look.

I nodded. “About as much as you’d expect.”

“May I?” She gestured to my head wrap.

I nodded, and she unwrapped it.

“Well,” she said. “You get points for resourcefulness.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I didn’t realize pillowcases would become so valuable in the future.”

She looked over my wound. “I wish I had some real bandages for you,” she said. “But I can give you some Neosporin and an injection for the pain.”

She ripped up the case and made a more appropriate dressing. “Do you mind if I keep this?” she asked. “Someone else might need it.”

It’s kind of stained and dirty—”

She stared at me blankly, then blinked.

I shrugged. “But go nuts.”

She smiled and applied the medicine, then gave me the shot.

Robert elbowed me. “This is Rebecca,” he said. “Isn’t she something?”

“She’s great,” I said, then turned to her. “How long have you been a nurse?”

She wiped the blood off me. “Oh, I’m not a nurse,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“I’m just a little old Pilates instructor,” she said. “I decided I was bored in this tent and started giving people shots. And now I’m in charge of all this.”

She smiled at me with serenity, gesturing to the expanse of the quarantine.

“That’s a horrible story.”

“You coming with us?” Robert asked.

I looked at Rebecca, who beamed.

“Wait, what’s happening now? Where are we going?”

“We’re heading up north,” he said. “Rebecca heard about a commune that has been completely unfazed by all of this. They grow their own potatoes.”

“You heard?” I asked. “From where?”

“Lots of people come through here,” she said. “I’ve heard about it more than once, so that makes me think there’s some truth to the rumor.”

“I don’t think that’s how fact becomes established.”

“You want to hang around and wait for another attack?” Robert asked.

“Not really—”

He leaned forward. “Listen,” he said. “There’s a priest over in the east section of the quarantine.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Rebecca says that if we’re married,” he said. “Officially married, that is. We get a pass to travel into any government sanctioned roadway where it’s safer.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “How does she know—sorry, how do you know all this?”

Robert shrugged. “You hear things. Like that thing with the guy who lost a kidney. Woke up in a tub full of ice. And now we all know what to do when people steal our kidneys.”

I shook my head, got to my feet. “This is all nonsense—”

“Rebecca and I,” he said. “And you. You’ve been so loyal and helpful. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind at this point.”

I balanced myself on the shoddy tables. “Wait, you and Rebecca are getting married? What has it been, like, a hot minute?”

“Don’t be judgmental,” he said. “Our current changing times are changing social morays. And when you know, you know.”

“Shouldn’t you two go on a date or something?”

He stroked her cheek. “What we shared last night was worth ten thousand dates.”

She giggled. He turned to me and beamed.

“He read me this beautiful passage. Something about risk management I think,” she said. “Those words went straight to my heart.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve met each other’s parents, gave each other a clueless gift for Christmas, accidently called each other the wrong name at a bad time. Ever had a miscommunication on what time to meet each other at the movie theater?”

“What are you doing?”

“You said it felt like a ten thousand dates,” I said. “I’m wondering if all this happened last night.”

Robert shook his head. “That’s ridiculous and you know it. This is the real thing. You’ll see.”

I stared at him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, getting closer to my face and standing over me.

“Don’t even start,” I said. “You’re single, time is going by, and it’s the Apocalypse. But if you think I’m going to sister wife you—”

He profusely shook his head. “Sister wife?” he asked, confused. “What are you talking about? I don’t want to marry you too.”

“Oh,” I said, confused. “That’s not what this is about?”

He shook his head. Rebecca looked at me with pity.

“W-Well then,” I stammered. “Sometimes I get mixed signals. Like when you give a girl a fancy Brookstone meat thermometer.”

“When did that happen?” he asked.

“Last Christmas,” I said. “I won the gift raffle and got to pick out of the bag you had, but…” I let my voice trail off.

“But what?” he raised an eyebrow at me. “Did you think it meant something?”

“Oh no, of course not,” I said. “I thought maybe it was a little more deliberate, but I’m not begging for it, and I’m certainly not desperate.”

I smiled awkwardly as he put a hand on my shoulder.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he said. “We all make bad choices. Sometimes late at night when you’re sitting in a bar in Philadelphia. You can either make conversation with that brunette waitress with the weird limp or you can go back up to your room and see what’s playing on the hotel’s specialty channels.”

“Robert—“

“If you’re lucky, that waitress will never learn your last name or which conference you were there for.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.” I took a step backward. “Congratulations,” I said. “I hope you’re both very happy. Mazel.”

He opened his arms to me. “Want a hug?” he asked.

A man passing by stopped in front of us. He opened his arms to Robert.

“I’d like a hug.”

Robert waved him away. “Keep moving.”

The man sadly dropped his head and did.

“I appreciate the pity,” I said. “And thanks for these last memories of you.”

I slid off the table and walked away.

“You’ll be back!” he shouted.

CHAPTER 7

There is No Peace on Earth

I WENT BACK to the food line to see if they had any dinner rolls left. I didn’t wait my turn. Instead, I perused the line and found it long with lots of ill-mannered people waiting for something that didn’t smell appetizing at all.

The woman in the short, dark bob and the stink face approached me. “Hey there,” she said sweetly aggressive. ”You’re looking a little lost.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said.

She gave me a cloying smile. “Love your Batman shirt,” she said. “So cute. Wish I had one.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You waiting in line for food?”

She shook her head. “I like my figure the way it is. I don’t need food to make myself feel better.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I enjoy food for the way it keeps me alive. Amongst other things.”

She looked me up and down. “But you enjoy that.” She grinned with an obscenely wide grin that would have rivaled the Joker’s. “What’s your name?”

I looked at her and tried to size her up. “Verdell,” I said.

“Oooh,” she said. “Such a vintage-sounding name. Love it. I’m Destiny.”

I nodded. “Destiny,” I said. “Nice to meet you. This is kind of a weird conversation, so I’m going to go.”

She got right in my face and stabbed me in the shoulder with her finger. “You don’t know the half of it. So if you don’t want any trouble, stay away from me, stay away from Jake. In fact, you should probably just leave.”

A man passed by with a bowl of soup. Without missing a beat she grabbed it, then dumped it on the front of my shirt.

“See ya later,” she said before walking away.

“Hey,” said the man. “I really wanted that.”

“Sorry,” I said and looked around for a way to help. “Stay there.”

I cut ahead in line and went to where there were rolls. I grabbed two and looked around for Soupless Joe. Normally, I would have had qualms about cutting in lines, being impatient, but there was a social contract I felt I should uphold. If Priscilla could sacrifice her life to feed people that couldn’t remember her name, then maybe I could do something nice for a guy who just got jacked out of a bowl of soup and a roll. Unfortunately, the same twelve-year-old kid who I had stopped from stealing my bag the other day spotted me and immediately pointed at my rolls.

“Hey!” he said. “You’re stealing that.”

“Oh?” I asked, bending down to match his line of sight. “Now you’re telling me the right thing to do?”

The kid blanched at my tone. “Why would you tell me not to steal if you were going to do it?”

I took a bite of one of the rolls. “Apparently, everyone’s making up their own rules these days.”

He stared at me. “There’s not going to be enough rolls left,” he said.

“One’s for someone else,” I said. “Seriously.”

He genuinely looked sad, and immediately I felt stabs of guilt.

“Do you want the other?” I asked. “I’m sorry I took a bite.”

The kid took it, turned around and immediately tossed it to the side.

“Now we’re stealing food from children?” Destiny asked, coming up behind me. She was now accompanied by three other women, who stared me down as if I had just spent their retirement fund on nothing but soft shell tacos from Taco Bell.

Destiny put her hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Where’s your mommy?” she asked.

“Get bent!” he yelled, then stormed off.

“You guys,” I said. “I offered him the roll—”

“You took two rolls?” Destiny asked. “You must be really depressed to eat your feelings like that.”

“Ladies, I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding,” said a voice behind me.

I turned around and saw Jake.

“Thank you,” I said. “I was trying—”

“Remember what we talked about during our morning affirmation meeting?” he asked. “There are three sides to every story. Yours, mine and love.”

The women nodded in agreement. “You’re right,” Destiny said. “Girls, Jake is always right. Let’s never forget that.”

Destiny threw her arms around him. “I’m sorry. You’re so wise.”

He took my hand. “Come with me,” he said.

“Baby,” Destiny protested. “But I miss you!”

He turned and touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Give me a second.”

The girls pouted as I gave them a knowing look and took Jake’s hand. He led me outside and up the stairs to the roof.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“Just a little spot I have to get away from the madness of stuff,” he said. “Really gives you perspective to look out at the horizon.”

I looked out where he pointed. In front of me was the decimated cityscape, covered in smoggy, green haze.

“Well, that’s just depressing,” I said and shook my head.

“No,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “That’s just the thing. If you really try, you can see God’s beauty in everything.”

I squinted, but I still looked at the ruins. “Ehh—maybe if there wasn’t such a bad smell. We really need plumbing back. Are there any plumbers left or were they all prone to the virus?”

He led me to a blanket already laid out. In the center was a basket of dinner rolls.

“This is very chivalrous,” I said.

“I’ve got great plans,” he said. “This is just the beginning—the way things used to be. The way they should be.”

“I don’t remember this much bread,” I said, sitting down and smiling. “But thank you. This is really nice.”

He smiled back. “Remember that time we went to the beach and you tried feeding the seagulls? They didn’t leave us alone.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s a good memory.”

That’s not actually how it went. We went to the beach as a fun day out, but he cried most of the day about an illegal cable hookup in his apartment. In hopes of distracting him from his journey into darkness I tried to salvage what was left of the day and tried to attract the birds with pieces of bread. It didn’t work.

“Just like you,” he said. “Always wanting to care for others. I’m going to miss you when you go.”

“No,” I said. “That’s really not what’s happening, but it’s okay.”

“You’re not leaving?” he asked. “Robert’s not taking you, is he?”

“He’d like me to,” I said casually. “But it’s time to work on me. You know the usual things.”

Jake drew back. “You should rethink that. Take whoever will have you and hang on to them like nobody’s business.”

“That working for you?” I asked. “Survival means just being desperate?”

He took my hand again. “This life we live now. It’s changed everything.”

“How insightful of you.”

“There’s bigger things we have to worry about. Let’s make sure people have enough to eat and let our natural human goodness rise to the top.”

“Nope,” I said. “That’s not the world I’ve seen. I watched people turn on each other over a bag of Cheetos and my boyfriend killed by cannibals. You want to save the world, then good luck, but the world doesn’t want to be saved. So there’s no point in trying.”

He withdrew his hands and looked shocked. “Um…” He paused. “Are you okay? You sound like you’ve been through a lot.”

I shook my head, trying to keep up the act. “I’m fine,” I said. “The world is too different for me to react to things the way I normally would.”

He drew back more. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighed heavily. “You were always so nonchalant about everything,” he said. “Bad news, good news, being unemotional was your priority.”

My windpipe tightened and there was a sickening stab in my stomach.

“I have emotions,” I said. “I just keep them more protected than other people do.”

Jake shook his head.

“I bring them out for special occasions,” I said. “Kind of like fine china. It’s appreciated more.”

I reached for a roll as Jake got up and turned to face the desolate landscape.

“Destiny was right.” He sighed. “You can’t go home again.”

He walked away and left me there on the blanket. A bird flew overhead, and I stared at it, marveling how I hadn’t seen one in at least a month. I went to take a bite of the roll, but he stopped me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“We’re having a picnic,” I said. “Didn’t you make me a picnic?”

He shook his head, took the roll from me and put it back with the others. “This is for those poor lost souls out there,” he said. “And maybe if they see what human kindness is again, they’ll be better people and stop scaring the shit out of us.”

* * *

When I went back inside, I saw people gathered around a large bulletin board. I fought my way as close as I could to the front and saw that they were taking turns posting things on the massive board—pictures, letters, objects that were of some meaning or other.

“What are we doing?” I asked no one in particular.

“It’s a Tweet Board,” a woman’s voice snapped. “We’re tweeting! We’re having conversation again, sharing memories, looking for loved ones! Get in line if you want to. No cutting.”

“Oh,” I said. “Sorry.”

I turned to see who the voice belonged to, only to be faced with Destiny. She narrowed her eyes at me and then smirked.

I gave her an awkward smile. “Thank you,” I said. “That was very informative.”

She smirked. “Did you want to put something on the board? Something about snaking other girls’ boyfriends?”

“Umm…” I looked around. “I’m really not sure what we’re doing.”

“We’re tweeting. It’s like manual social networking. Because you can’t just put anything up,” she said nastily. “You have to clear it through Debra. You can’t just steal whatever or whoever’s man you want.”

I let my patronizing smile fall and the comment go. “Debra who?”

She pointed over to Debra—my Debra, who’d gone her own way—was now there, trying to kick start a bare bones and extremely limited social media revolution. She beamed next to her large bulletin board and waved index cards at all of us.

“Who wants to submit a tweet for consideration?” she asked as she strolled up and down the line. “And if you like it, you can draw an emoticon or retweet what someone else said.

“I already have one.” Destiny waved her card at me. “Wanna see? It’s about my relationship with Jake.”

I glanced down and saw Jake’s name with lots of hearts drawn around it. I gave her a nice smile.

“Boy,” I said. “Think about how much better your sense of design will be when you don’t communicate like an eighth grader.”

She rolled her eyes and then fought her way to the front.

Debra took another girl’s tweet card. “Ooooh, look!” she said. “Amanda really enjoyed the broth and rolls that were served at lunch today. That’s definitely going up on the board. Hashtag delish!”

“Nice to get back to basics,” someone said behind me. “It’s like the old Twitter, but we’re having an actual conversation face-to-face.”

Debra spotted me from the back of the line and rushed over to see me.

“You!” She gave me a huge smile and grabbed me into a huge hug. I winced at the obscene amount of perfume that covered days of body odor. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Nice to see you too, Debra.”

She beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve started a new career!”

She squeezed my hands, and I smiled back.

“That’s really great,” I said. “Although I’m confused at how one starts a career in an end-times job market.”

She shook her head, lips pursed. “I’m a lifestyle consultant.”

“Nope,” I said. “That wasn’t a job when things were normal and it’s not a job now.”

She ignored my comment. “Please enjoy the Twitter board. Everyone else is.”

I nodded. “Can’t wait for that.”

“Where’s Robert?” she asked. “In a meeting I suppose.”

We both laughed with fake volume at her joke.

I shrugged. “Possibly around here,” I said. “He got engaged, and they’re leaving for the north. Or something.”

Debra suddenly became a tad more reserved. “Engaged?”

“Please.” I folded my arms. “It’ll never last.”

“Engaged?” she said. “Wasn’t he already married?”

“Maybe.” I nodded again, slowly remembering. “I think her name was Sarah or Chantal or something.”

“How does this happen?” she asked. “I just saw him a few days ago.”

“Lots of conventions got thrown out while you were gone,” I said. “Like how cannibals are a thing.

Debra put her hands over her ears. “Why do you talk about that? Stop bringing that up. It’s upsetting!”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She put an arm around me and led me out of the group. “We should tweet about it.” She started to scribble. “We’ve never been close,” she said. “Maybe you’d like to tweet it?” She offered me a card. I smiled and took it. “Sometimes people start flame wars. We don’t support that, but we do encourage getting things to trend. Like ‘Cannibal.’”

“Let me think on it.”

“You were always so witty.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Although I never got into the whole social network thing.”

“You know what your problem is?” she asked and cocked her head to the side. “You’re just not willing to see the bigger picture. Make a people connection. This is nice for others, and you’re too worried about being in your own comfort zone.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” I said. “At least not today.”

“Maybe if you thought of someone other than yourself,” she said in a low condescending tone. “I heard you beat up a little boy for his medicine.” She raised her eyebrow.

“I think of other people,” I said. “So many times at work, I’ve gotten you out jams. And that kid is a friggin’ liar!”

“Where’s Robert now?”

I thought for a moment, scanned the crowd.

“You don’t know, do you?” she asked.

“That’s hardly my fault,” I said. “He’s got a fiancée to worry about. He was going to leave. Maybe he’s already gone.”

“That’s it,” she said. “You’re banned from Twitter, but I can’t guarantee that people won’t talk about you.”

She turned away and walked into the crowd. “Attention, everyone, today’s trending topic is Verdell’s Useless.”

“Alternate hashtag is ‘Oh come on!’” I said. I looked around, satisfied in my joke and hoping someone else was too. Instead it was ignored.

I watched her walk up to the front of the line. “Selfie booth is coming soon, guys!”

“I’ll show you who’s useless and selfish,” I shouted after her. “Everyone else in the room but me, that’s who.”

A little girl limped in front of me.

“Hey!” I said as I caught up and knelt in front of her. “Are you okay? Do you need help finding your mom?”

The girl faced me, revealing herself to be a little person. “I’m a grown woman,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I just thought you were lost. You seemed like you had a limp.”

“Yeah,” she snarled. “That’s what happens when a big guy tries to attack you and your two kids. I kicked his ass and strained a muscle in the process.”

I raised my hands in surrender. “Sorry for the confusion. You clearly have things under control.”

“Nooo,” she said sarcastically. “I need tall people to hold my hand.”

She stormed off. I walked in the opposite direction and then commandeered the line at the soup bowl.

“What are you doing?” asked the girl with the ladle.

“I’m reaching out for others,” I said. “How many scoops do we give out?”

She breathed a sigh of relief and shoved the spoon at me.

“Thank god,” she said. “Last time I do anything to impress a boy.” With that, she was gone. “I’m free!” she shouted.

So I gave out soup to a line of people who never seemed to end. It just kept going with endless faces every time—sad, depressed faces that looked at me with sorry eyes. I dunked that spoon into the pot and poured its contents into their bowls until the pot ran out. And then like magic, a grizzled man came up with a new one and replaced it without a word.

“Sir?” I asked. “Thank you for—”

He grunted and walked off.

If no one questioned the system, then neither would I. Instead, I ladled and avoided eye contact. Uncomfortable at first, but bowl after bowl made the day go by incredibly fast. I kept going until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned around and looked at a man I hadn’t seen before, holding out a large platter of sandwiches.

“Wait,” he said, squinting. “You’re not Elizabeth. Or are you?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m Verdell.”

“So, where is she?”

“Was she the blonde who served earlier today?”

“Not her,” he said flatly. “Elizabeth was that fat girl with facial hair and liked to yell at everybody. I gave her this job three days ago.”

“I just took this job from a blonde girl,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Oooh,” he said, interest peaked, looking around. “Was she cute? Where’d she go? Did she prefer soup over sandwiches?”

“I don’t know.”

“Forget it,” he said. “How’s the soup holding out?”

“Running low,” I said. “People just keep coming.”

“We’ve got sandwiches now,” he said, shoving a tray at me. “Start giving these out instead.”

“FYI,” I said. “I don’t want to do this forever. I was just trying to prove a point, so if you want to hire someone else—”

He looked out and surveyed the crowd, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d say this, but I miss the days of managing a Verizon store.” He turned to me. “I don’t give praise generously,” he said. “But it looks like you’re doing a good job. So you can have this job as long as you want.”

“Aww,” I said. “That’s first positive comment I’ve heard about my job performance in three years.”

He shrugged and walked away. I took a sandwich and dropped it into the bowl of the next person who was a guy who stared into space.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, coming to.

“It’s a sandwich,” I said.

“You put it in a soup bowl,” he said. “I was expecting soup.”

“We’re out of soup.”

“Is this bread gluten free, at least?”

The woman behind him took notice. “What kind of meat is on it?” she asked. “Because I’ve been trying to go back to my organic, non-hormone diet.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t ask. Does it matter?”

She was horrified. “Does it matter? Does it matter?” she yelled. “Does it matter what you put in your body?”

I turned back to the man in front of me. “If you don’t want your sandwich, then someone else will.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. Are you going to have something else later?”

“I don’t know—”

A hand reached over and started grabbing sandwiches.

“Excuse me,” I said, turning to look, only to be face-to-face with a pale Jake, who had dark circles under his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“The officials say there’s a group heading for a quarantine that’s not friendly,” he said. “I’m going to bring them this nutritious and delicious food and everything will be fine.”

“Wait—”

He took off before I could do or say anything.

The man in front of me was getting more agitated. “What are my vegetarian options?” he asked.

I saw a middle-aged woman who looked very tired try to shove past me. Instead, I handed her the platter and patted her on the shoulder.

“You just got hired,” I said, then ran in the direction I saw Jake go.

By the time I reached the back exit of the quarantine, Jake was long gone. The door swung back and forth with lazy abandon, the lock rotated wildly.

I rushed to get there, but was stopped by a guy in a full-body security suit.

“Restricted area,” he said, his voice muffled by the shielded helmet he wore. “You’ll have to turn around.”

“What?”

The guard took off his helmet, revealing a very soft face bearded man. “You can’t be here,” he said. “Turn around.

“Sir,” I said. “My friend is making a very stupid mistake and I need to stop him.”

“Like you going out there isn’t a stupid mistake,” he said. “I’m going to have to ask you to go back inside.”

“Sir—” I started.

He shook his extremely large head. “Quit undermining my authority,” he said. “Doesn’t a protective body suit and helmet give you any indication that I’m in charge and know what I’m talking about?”

“He took a plate of sandwiches,” I said. “There’s a man who’s going to die on your watch.”

“There were sandwiches?” he asked incredulously. “Come on!”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just over there—”

“I was waiting out the soup too,” he said. “Just my luck.”

I made another motion to go out the door, but he held me back with his hand. “That’s no reason to risk your life out there. You don’t know what’s out there.”

“He thinks everyone can be cured!” I said. “He needs to know he’s wrong!”

He tilted his head. “Sounds like there’s more of a personal problem here.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” I said. “And none of your business.”

He folded his thick arms. “Who’d he dump you for?”

I was speechless. “Sir,” I said. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

“Cry about it to the Twitter Board,” he said, steering me in its direction. The alarm bells sounded and the lights went down. His grip on me tightened. “We got to bunker down. The hordes are coming.”

People started to panic and rush in chaos, and the guard pushed me toward the crowd, which was terrifying. I tried to gain my footing, but the power of the group was too strong.

There was a low rumble that gained momentum. The hordes were on top the quarantine, banging away at its foundation, trying to break into its metal shell. A woman’s scream came from one corner of the room.

“Jake!” Destiny cried, frantically pushing through the crowd. “He didn’t come back! He didn’t come back!”

The banging was even louder, and I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard the sound of a man’s scream come out of their destruction. I stopped trying to fight against the crowd and let the flow carry me to the side of the room where I tightly gripped a pole and closed my eyes.

It wasn’t long before the tent walls were broken and a van drove through the barriers. Six hooded gang members jumped out and laid waste to everything in what was once our sanctuary. They set fires and set off gunshots while people screamed and hid behind anything they could. I ducked behind a pile of blankets and bags, then covered my head with my hands. I opened my eyes and peeked out long enough to see Jake’s head affixed to the horse of one of the riders. It was soaked in blood, the eyes rolled far deep back, but it was unmistakably him, down to the sad, weary look on his face. The rider threw a sandwich into one of the pipes and laughed.

I had never seen anything so gruesome, and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the image would leave my brain forever.

“Attention, maggots!” one of them yelled with a female’s voice. “We are here on a divine mission from our leader. We are here to take more of your delicious sandwiches and draw your blood until he is happy.”

People shrieked as I let myself fall from the pole and slumped down, not sure what I had seen. When they were done, they drove off, breaking through the barriers on the other side and into the night. The tent collapsed on us like a dying dream.

In the aftermath, I couldn’t tell you a lot of what happened. I think maybe a day had gone by that I spent huddled in yet another corner, watching people clean up the mess that was left behind. I watched them try to put up the tent again, but I noticed the mood of the place had changed. People weren’t looking at me the same. Before it was just apathetic unrecognition and now there was a sort of layer of hatred I was working through.

It didn’t make any sense, but that was before I caught sight of the Twitter board. It seemed I was blowing up. Every card on there was about me and they were all mean. So incredibly mean.

“Real nice, guys!” I said loudly after taking it all in. “We got slaughtered and this is what we’re worried about?” I took one card off the board. “I do not have eyes close together,” I shouted after reading them. “And we all smell the same around here.” I grabbed another. “Hashtag Sandwich Whore? Real clever and mature, people. Also makes a whole lot of sense.”

I crumpled it up and threw it to the ground. I felt like I was being stared at, so I looked up and saw Destiny with a death glower. She was pale and had murder in her eyes.

“Don’t start,” I said and waved her away.

“Jake’s dead and it’s all your fault,” she said. “You killed him and everyone knows it.”

“I did not,” I said. “I tried to stop him and he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Prove it!”

“I can’t,” I said. “There’s a guy in a weird hazmat suit who might vouch for me, though.”

She pointed her finger in my face. “You killed him. He wouldn’t have gone out there had he not been so obsessed with proving your stupid view wrong.”

“That makes no sense. He wanted to help out those in need,” I said wearily. “Clearly he was too good for this world.”

“You should have stayed away,” she said as tears brimmed in her eyes. “We were happy together. We were going to get married and have lots of children in Texas. I was never going to work at Hooters again!”

“That’s a very specific life plan.”

She jabbed her finger in my face again. “It is specific. Because it was perfect. We had a lot planned. I had a lot planned.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sure you were really happy, and you’re one of the few who had a really bright future. But face it, he did something really stupid.”

“You just wanted him back!” she shouted. “And you made sure no one else would ever have him.”

I shook my head. “We’re both grieving. Can’t we just bond over that?”

“We could have been the ones to bring back order to the world,” she said. “The kind God wants everyone to have.”

I took a step back as I read another card on the Tweet Board. “She lets bad things happen to everyone else,” I read out loud to myself. “Hashtag Bitchsoup.”

The card seemed to be staring at me through the eyes and into my heart. Which really hurt. I got to survive and this was my legacy. Maybe I should have followed Robert, after all.

“You’re right,” I said, stuffing the card down my shirt. “Everyone here is right.”

She wiped tears away. “What?”

“I’m getting out of here,” I said. “I probably have family somewhere looking for me and hoping I’m not chasing stupid boys as usual.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I hope you die,” she said. “The future has no place for you.”

I nodded. “I’ve made it this far,” I said. “So maybe you’re wrong.”

CHAPTER 8

Prioritizing Can Hurt

WHEN I THINK BACK ON IT, I didn’t intend for anything to be so dramatic, it just came out that way. But it was sort of those classy “fuck you” send offs I’d always wanted to be capable of making, just never had the inspiration.

Apparently, Robert was right—new civilization, new rules. Next time I saw them, I made a mental note to thank fake nurse, Rebecca.

I strode up to the covered security guard, thinking it was the same guy from earlier who’d blocked me from saving Jake and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. He spun around, then immediately folded his arms.

“Hey,” I said forcefully. “Everything that happened is your fault.”

“Excuse me?” asked a muffled woman’s voice.

I drew back. “Sorry,” I said. “You all look alike.”

“That’s just hurtful. I am a beautiful and complicated human being,” she said, then tapped another guard on the shoulder. “I think she’s talking to you.”

“You,” he said. “Come to check how many moral codes you violated today?”

“I didn’t violate anything and you know it,” I said.

He took off his helmet. “Hashtag Safety Code Violater,” he said. “I put that on the board.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He pointed to the Tweet Board.

I rolled my eyes. “Not you too.”

“I heard you practically pushed him into danger with your lies and seductions,” he said.

I incredulously stared at him before I just folded my arms. “Okay,” I said. “I officially can’t take it anymore. I’m out of here.” I marched toward the main exit, but the man grabbed me, this time around the waist. “Hey!” I said. I pushed and slapped his hands away. “Stop that!”

“Think again,” he said. “I can’t let you leave. I hear you’re going to be tried by a jury.”

“Let me go,” I said. “This is highly inappropriate.”

His hands went lower. “I don’t know,” he said. “We live in a new world. You can’t see it, but I’m winking at you.”

I wriggled out of his grasp and then kneed him in the gut. “Knock that off,” I said. “And let me go. I’m getting out of here.”

He gasped and panted hard, in obvious pain. “You don’t know what’s out there,” he said.

“Neither do you,” I said. “But if my boss and his new wife can leave, then I can too.”

He folded his arms. I gestured to the Tweet Board.

“Everyone hates me,” I said. “If I’m trending over blanket fails and soup of the day tweets.”

“Now that’s not true,” he said. “Someone here drew a nice selfie of themselves.”

He pointed to a crudely drawn figure of a girl scrawled on a napkin with a ballpoint pen. “I don’t even know who this is.”

“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said.

He snorted as I went to pass him, but he tried to hold me back, keeping a safe distance between his groin and my knees.

“Still can’t let you go out there,” he said.

“What are you going to do? You can’t stay by that door forever,” I said. “You’ve got to leave sometime. What if they have more sandwiches?

He braced himself. “No one leaves, no one comes in,” he said. “I took a vow to protect anyone in this tent and that means you.”

“What about Jake?” I asked. “What about last night’s massacre?”

“That was a slight oversight.”

“What if you have to go to the bathroom and need to leave your post?”

“That’s a nonissue.”

I stared him down for a moment. I backed up slightly until he took a more relaxed stance. Then I bolted for the door, but he was too fast for me. His arm came out at me and knocked me down. I hit the dirt floor, feeling pain all over.

“That’s uncalled for,” I said, struggling to get up.

“Hit her harder!” someone called out. “She deserves it.”

“You should mind your own business!” I yelled back.

“Times are harsh,” he said, helping me up. “I’d say I was sorry, but I’m not. Enjoy your trial.”

“Who’s going to try me?” I asked.

“Girl named Destiny,” he said. “She’s in charge of the disciplinary procedures.”

“Who gave her that job?”

He shrugged. “Who gets any job around here? I walked in here last night and found a suit to put on.”

I backed away, looked around and saw a line forming around food.

“Fine, I’m getting a sandwich,” I said. “It’s going to be delicious, and I’d get you one, but you’re mean.”

“Have fun,” he said. “They all hate you over there, so good luck getting one.”

I headed to the line and approached a now different woman distributing food. She had a stony face, long straight hair and a no-nonsense sensibility around her. I tried to take away her serving platter.

“Hey,” I said. “Today’s your lucky day. I’ve got it from here.”

She sneered at me and jerked the plate away. “What, so you can send me to get murdered too?”

The line cheered and threw whatever they had on hand at me—sandwiches, garbage and projectiles of bodily fluid. Dejected, I walked away and stood at the end of the endless sandwich line. I felt as though I was being eyed with contempt, so I kept my gaze to the ground.

After at least an hour, I got to the front of the line where the girl waited for me. When I did get my sandwich, she handed one with a bite already taken out. She laughed at me.

“Enjoy!” she cackled.

I took out the few bites from the opposite end, purely out of hunger, but it had a bad taste, so I left the rest in a pair of sneakers of one of the quarantine guards that were just sitting out. I expected to get called out for it. I didn’t expect to get extremely nauseous from it, but I did.

As the pain worsened, my vision started to get blurry. I looked for a place to sit and recollect myself when my balance gave way. I tried to steady myself on what I thought was a pole, but it reared back and swore obscenities at me.

“Sorry!” I slurred

I fell to the floor when it seemed my head wasn’t in charge of my body anymore. It was light and full of woozy air. I felt the hard floor. It probably hurt. I heard applause before I completely blacked out. That was weird. I let myself slip into unconsciousness, hoping it would lead to a better place than this.

* * *

When I woke up, I was stirred by a hot wind and about eight faces above me, one of which being Destiny.

“What’s going on?” I asked, groggy and fighting for consciousness.

“You were tried and convicted,” the girl said. “And now you’re about to be punished. There’s no way you’re getting away with what you’ve done.”

“For the last time,” I said, drowsy. “I didn’t kill Jake. He was stupid. And what kind of fair trial is it if I’m drugged and can’t give a testimony?”

My S’s slurred together, and I realized I was eliminating a lot of saliva.

“You know that Jake and I dated first, making you thloppy theconds,” I said in sloppy speech.

She sneered at me while one girl grabbed the top of my hair and pulled it. I yelped in pain.

“You think you know so much,” she said. “You don’t know anything.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you wanted. But that’s no reason to have it out here in—”

I sat up and looked around blinded by bright white light, but the girl jerked me back to the ground by my hair.

“Ow!” I cried. “Where am I anyway?”

I was outside and could see nothing but desolated city with that smoggy green haze for as far as my eye could see. My arms were tied down, and the girls around me tightened the ropes.

“Since you left Jake out here to die,” Destiny said while one girl kept her firm grasp firmer on my hair. “We’re returning the favor, just to see what it was like for him.”

They all straightened and took a few steps back as if to admire their handiwork. Destiny rubbed her hands together and beamed.

“I just wish my sorority could see me now!” she said.

“Real mature, guys!” I said. “At least set me down on the ground so I can figure out where to go from here.”

“Admit it,” she hissed. “You wish you were us. You know why?”

“I literally can’t think of one thing,” I said. “There’s no way I’d want to be part of your crappy club for jerks.”

“Because we’re the future,” she said. “And we’re going to survive and live long, and when we’re done, we’re going to have children who carry on our legacy.”

“Moving on so quickly then?” I asked. “Jake would be happy.”

She drew her hand back and slapped me really hard. I jerked back in pain and winced. It burned, then tingled. Whatever—I knew that joke was funny.

“You remember that,” she said. “’Cause it’s the last human interaction you’re going to get.”

She straightened and was greeted to high fives all around. The rest of the girls took turns spitting on me before they all left.

“Ew!” I said. “Stop that!”

They turned and left me, then ran for the door. Just like that I was abandoned on top of the roof of the quarantine underneath the hot sun, tied to it like meat left out to dry.

One girl poked her head out from the door they’d just disappeared through “Also, you’re fat.” The girls laughed and walked away.

I rolled my eyes, which isn’t easy when you feel them welling up with tears.

“I am not,” I muttered.

It was hot, really hot, under the sun with no shade whatsoever. I closed my eyes and prayed for the third time in my life. I muttered words over and over like a magic spell and then would open my eyes quickly as if an angel would appear in thin air. I think I did this about five times, and every time I felt a little less hope in me.

When that didn’t work, I wriggled around, trying to bend my knees. The ropes were tight and scratchy. Overheard, I saw birds fly over and then circle around. I realized my bag of belongings still were inside, forever gone.

Nope. I made a resolve. If I was going to die, it was not going to be at the hands of those petty, stupid girls. If I was going to die, it wasn’t going to be a day where the last thing I heard was “Also, you’re fat.”

This couldn’t be true. I’d been eating nothing but scraps and I knew I’d lost weight. I felt it and my pants were looser. The pre-Apocalypse me would be so proud that finally I had found a diet that worked. So many years of just eating Doritos for dinner and Coke for breakfast that just never worked. My mind traveled back since the Incident now that I was only eating what I could find, eating for survival, not taste. I made a mental note to self, I thought, while furiously wriggling out of my bonds. I would put together a diet plan and market it as the “Survival Diet” for when the world went back to normal. This would probably be the best idea I would ever come up with.

I’m going to get out, I told myself. I’m going to get out. I repeated this over and over. I’m going to get out. I’m going to get out.

Wriggling out of those ropes was torture. They burned as they rubbed against my skin and my back ached from my fingers straining to find a weak spot in the knots. Still, in the back of my mind, I imagined my cookbook—me in an apron, surrounded by rocks and shrubs, like something out of the Bible.

Yes! The Jesus diet!

I told myself to stop it—this was the time to get out of here otherwise those birds would be vindicated in their dietary choices.

I fumbled around enough where the knot loosened and freed myself. I could tell I had limited time before another roving gang would be out and about, looking for either sandwiches or a lost, clueless girl. There was no way I was going back inside. If I was going to have my choice of which barbaric gang was going to kill me, it certainly wasn’t going to be the one where Jake’s lover was dreaming specifically of how to dismember me.

I ran to the side of the structure by way of the rafters. To the left I could see what was left of the freeway and to the right just one abandoned building after the other. I took my chances by following the now crumbling freeway. Time wasn’t on my side, so I limped away. If I headed north, maybe I could find my parents and their apartment. Now that I didn’t have people fighting and deciding which direction to go was right, I could do what I wanted. So I decided to go home.

Walking down a freeway is terrifying. It doesn’t matter if it’s pre-Apocalypse, post-Apocalypse. One thing that hadn’t changed was there were still bumper to bumper cars, just not moving anywhere as far as the eye could see.

It was dark, and I had followed the freeway since my escape from the quarantine. It was cold and I had lost everything, including my scratchy blanket, my dead phone, a bag of kale chips that I was hoping to barter something more valuable for. It occurred to me that I could just check and see what people had left behind in the cars. Clearly, I wasn’t the first person to think that—so many had had windows bashed in and been picked clean of whatever was available, but it didn’t mean they were all like that.

There were so many BMWs that looked like garbage now. Seeing a black five series made me remember there was a time when I wanted one, but so many people warned me about their resale value. Now they were all worth nothing. This one was just some trash and a single shoe, so I moved on. Most of the other cars were similar. The fabric on seats was hard to find and given how cold it was getting, I could understand.

I wandered near a SUV that didn’t have its windows broken and seemed in decent shape. I peeked inside and about cried tears of joy. There were blankets, a box of crackers, and I think I saw socks under a UCLA hoodie.

I tried the door first. After all, I wasn’t a barbarian and wasn’t going to start now. It was locked. In fact, all four doors were. I took another look inside and saw a bottle of Bath and Bodyworks lotion.

That was my motivator. Just imagining smelling like the woods at twilight or Japanese cherry blossoms as opposed to my own BO was all it took for me to find a rock a few feet away and lob it into the backseat window. It broke with a satisfying crash, and I rushed forward to claim my prize.

Carefully, avoiding the glass, I grabbed the hoodie, the lotion and the box of crackers. And they weren’t just any box of crackers; these were Wheat Thins, the BMW of crackers. My cold fingers fumbled at the top of the box, and my stomach lurched in anticipation of it. The wax paper crackled due to my own clumsiness and then the entire box was forcefully and violently ripped out of my hands.

Surprised, I turned and looked behind me to see a woman with an extremely hard face, the kind that challenges you, which was partially hidden by a hoodie, baring her teeth at me. In the darkness, her features were hard to make out, but there was no mistaking the world of hurt I was fully anticipating.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she growled and held the box close.

“Oh,” I said. “Did you want some too? There’s probably enough.”

She looked past my head and saw the broken window on the car.

“Did you do this?” she asked. Her voice got higher and louder. “I’m gone for five minutes to go pee in a Corolla and this is what happens?”

“I thought it was abandoned,” I said. “I was just so cold and hungry—”

“Really?” she shouted. “Is this how you act? You just wander into people’s homes and steal their shit? And where’s my dog?”

“Well,” I thought it over. “No. I don’t do that. I’ve never done that. You have a dog? What’s his name?”

“This car is my home! And you broke into it and stole my Wheat Thins!”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have known better. I didn’t know they were your Wheat Thins!”

A low howl broke out into the night, and the woman’s face went from murdering rage to being terrified.

“I have to get inside,” she said as she shoved the box at me. “Just take the crackers and leave me alone.”

“What’s that?”

She rushed to her car and tried to unlock it. “Good to know,” she said. “All this effort in locking my car came to nothing.”

She got in, locked it and burrowed into the darkness.

“Well, now what’s coming?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, but I did realize she had left me with a box of Wheat Thins.

I stood there for a moment, listening until I could hear running footsteps coming closer and closer my way. Figuring I’d rather deal with the wrath of my new friend as opposed to these strangers, I crouched low and hid under her car.

Sure enough, what sounded like a marathon came bounding through on the 405, runners yelling barbaric sounds. I craned my neck a little bit to see them with faces painted, chests bare, handmade weapons in their hands. I also saw people being dragged mercilessly behind them. Some struggled and screamed, some might have been already dead, I don’t know. I huddled there with my UCLA sweatshirt, briefly considering giving it back to its hostile owner, but then fully embraced it until this horde was long gone.

When they were, I listened for any more sounds, and when it seemed at its deathly quietist, which naturally is when I crawled out.

“I’m going now,” I said. “Sorry about the window.”

She didn’t say anything as I slipped on the sweatshirt.

“Thanks for the crackers!” I said, turning to look behind me.

When I turned around, there was an ominous-looking man staring down at me. Startled, I yelped, then covered my mouth.

“Who are you talking to?” he asked.

“Uh,” I said. I pointed behind me. “Just back there. It’s nothing.”

He shoved past me, but gripped my shoulder hard in the process. I struggled against him, but he was fully dragging me at this point.

“Let go of me!”

“Hey, Stephanie!” he shouted.

“Get bent!” yelled the surly car dweller.

“You coming home or not?”

She didn’t say anything, but I struggled to get out of his meaty grip. He was in a hoodie and a woolen hat, smelling badly like BO and old tuna.

“Sir—” I said.

“Quiet,” he said.

He banged on the car. “You belong to me!” he shouted. “We got work to do!”

“Leave me alone,” she said. “Take the girl in my place. She’ll touch anything. She’s clearly begging for it.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Now he grabbed me by the hair. It was painful, and he jerked me up to my feet.

“Ow!” I cried at the sharp pain of hair tugged out of my head. “Why do people think this is the best way to move me around?”

“Today’s your lucky day.”

“Stop it—” I tried to fight back, which meant uselessly flailing my arms back and forth, all out of reach of him.

“Stephanie!” he said.

“What?” she asked, rolling down her window.

“You coming out?” he asked. “You owe me, and I’m getting what I want.”

With his other hand, he picked up a rock and threw it through the window. It missed but banged on the lower portion of the door instead.

“Hey,” Stephanie said. “I had three payments to go!”

“Sir—” I was near tears, hungry, cold, and for the second time in one day, my life was being threatened with the unknown.

I jerked away, but he held firm.

“I’m not done with you,” he said.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t be like that,” he said. “You wearing that UCLA shirt says that you’re ready to be in my bitch house.”

I pulled away, rubbing the top of my head where it still hurt.

“Bitch house?” I asked. “Really? What year is this that this is how you refer to Stephanie and me?”

“Leave me out of it!” Stephanie shouted through the opening of her window. “Just go with him. You’ll be fine.”

“Get out of the shirt,” he said. “You don’t want to wear the badge, then don’t put it on.”

“It’s not a badge,” I said. “UCLA is UCLA.”

“Not anymore,” he said. “So I’m claiming it, and it’s now my name and when you wear that. You wear my identity.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.” I waved the idea away and shook my head.

I finally pulled away from him, ripped off the shirt and threw it onto the ground.

“Who’s going to argue with me and prove me wrong?” he asked.

“There!” I said. “If it means that much to you, take the stupid shirt, Mr. UCLA. I belong to someone else, anyway!”

He pointed at my chest.

“Batman?” he asked.

I looked down and noticed that I was still wearing my Batman shirt from three days ago.

“Yes,” I said. “Batman. He’s really big and fights crime and he’s probably expecting me.”

“I haven’t heard of anyone with that name,” he said. “Beyond, you know, that Batman.”

“They haven’t heard of you either,” I said. “Neither of them has, but why take the chance?”

“How do I know you’re not making this up?” he asked, slowly backing away.

“This coming from a guy who insists his name is UCLA,” I said. “And if you leave me and Stephanie here, I’ll let him know that he should grant you mercy if you do get around to finding him.”

He reached over and tugged at my box of Wheat Thins. “I’ll have to take this,” he said. “Nothing personal, just business.”

I tightly held the box in my arms. “I think Batman would disagree,” I said. “In fact—” I grabbed his messenger bag. “This is Batman’s bag now.”

He tried to hang on to it, but I was too fast. A dog came up behind and attacked UCLA.

“Get off! Get off!” he screamed.

He gave up, went limp and threw up his hands in surrender. I couldn’t believe I had gotten away with this.

“You’ll know where to find me, Stephanie!”

“In Satan’s jockstrap?” she yelled. “Is that what I was smelling?

“Forget it. You’ll see how wrong you were.”

He took off running into the night as the dog chased after him, growling. “Wait up!” he called.

Stephanie opened the door to her car. She looked cautiously both ways. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met,” the woman snarled. “And I didn’t say you could shield yourself in my car. And where the hell did my dog go?”

“I’m sorry,” I said as I brushed off my knees.

“For what?” she asked. “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to yourself for being such an earth-shattering idiot. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor,” I said. “I don’t know who that guy is or what he was talking about, but I got the distinct feeling you didn’t want him around. Don’t trip over yourself with gratitude or anything.”

She got out of the car and then shook her finger at me. “What kind of world do you think you’re living in?” she asked. “You find alliances, but you look for an exit strategy wherever you go.”

“Isn’t that just life in general?” I asked. “And in case you didn’t notice, your boyfriend is a bigger idiot for thinking there really is a Batman.”

“I was just with him because I could never find the right time to break up,” she said. “Now that we have, he shows up needing attention and it’s just awkward.”

“I’ve watched two ex-boyfriends die,” I said. “You don’t have anything to teach me.”

She snorted. “Please,” she said. “You’re an amateur. Find a safe place and never come out again.” She went back into the car. “Never come and find me again,” she said. “You can keep the crackers. I’m trying to cut out carbs.”

CHAPTER 9

Physical Fitness is More Than a School Elective

IT WAS THE FIRST TIME in the weeks, maybe months now, since the Incident that I didn’t have somewhere to sleep. I hadn’t seen my apartment since then, and I shuddered to think of what it might look like or who was living there, sleeping in my bed, eating whatever was left of my food. The floor under my desk wasn’t super comfortable, but there was warmth and a serviceable bathroom that you only had to fear getting locked into the stairwell. That stupid house near the cannibal zone had cannibals, but there was a couch to make a fort out of. The quarantine zone was even stupider, but at least I was inside. Now I was just walking down a freeway, getting colder under my newly acquired sweatshirt, looking at a crumbling city. Above me was a traffic alert sign, the kind that makes you aware of accidents or Amber Alerts, but now the messages were direr. AIRBORNE VIRUS. STAY HOME, which then switched to ACID RAIN, STAY HOME.

I thought about whoever had programmed that sign must be dead now. Or maybe he just followed his own advice and sat at home, waiting for this all to blow over.

I sat under the sign and dumped out the contents of UCLA’s bag. There was a Swiss army knife, a beat up copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting and some cherry flavored Chapstick. I was so excited to see that tube of Chapstick. Immediately, I pulled off the cover and smeared it over my grateful lips.

That wasn’t all that was in there. There was a hand towel with the Texas A&M logo embroidered on it, a pair of men’s underwear and a set of keys. I was revolted at the underwear and flung it far off into the night. I checked the inner pockets and found an iPhone. I frowned at it until I pressed the home button and it came on. It was charged and started locating bars of reception. I gasped and thanked the spirit of UCLA, wherever he was cowering.

I fought the impulse to play a game of Tetris or listen to whatever music was on it, but I knew spending the night on the 405 was risky given what had just happened. So I put it back into the bag and took the nearest exit and hiked down into the city.

My apartment wasn’t far from the off ramp. I turned down the street toward my old neighborhood, some excitement building. Maybe I could just hide out in this place and weather this thing out, rent free from now until whatever dystopian government would eventually take over, the way they always did in books after an event like this. Everywhere I looked there was yellow tape and signs with a gas mask icon on them. I ignored them as well as the ones that screamed, DANGEROUS AREA. STAY OUT.

I ran toward my home. I ran until my sides hurt, but stopped when I saw a government quarantine van patrolling up and down the streets. I waited until they were gone and headed in the right direction.

When I reached my apartment building, I saw in the darkness that about half of it had withstood the Incident, the other half was in various sizes of rubble. Much of people’s belongings were scattered around it. My eyes adjusted to the piles of stuff until I saw some familiar things, like old pictures, some Blu-rays, my mom’s favorite teapot—the one with repetitive cat heads painted all over it. The building seemed empty and there were no signs of life, so I crouched and poked through the pile. I pulled out a handmade poster with my picture and the words HAVE YOU SEEN ME? Under the text there was a phone number.

“Hey there!” a voice shouted.

I froze, looked around and saw several figures marching toward me with flashlights. I quickly folded the paper and shoved it into my bag.

“What are you doing?” asked another voice. “You got ID?”

I put my hands up and shook my head. “I used to live here,” I said. “I was just trying to find my family. Do you know what happened here and to the people who lived here?”

One of the figures approached me, shined the light directly in my face and therefore blinded me.

“Don’t you know this is an infected area?” he asked. “We had to clear it out. People were dying. You can’t be here.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “How would I find anyone?”

“Got me,” he said and grabbed my arm. “Now we have to test you for disease. Come with us please.”

I took my arm away. “What disease? Do you guys have any answers? At all?”

“Well no,” he said while he looked at the others. “We’ve just been taking blood, putting it in test tubes and waiting to hear what our bosses want us to do with them.”

Another figure grabbed my arm. “That’s no reason to resist!” I heard a woman’s voice say.

“Stop that!” I said and tried to slip out of their reach. I scrambled to my feet and started to run.

“After her!” one of the men said.

“Should we run or walk back and take the van?” the woman asked.

“You run.”

“But—” the woman shouted with exasperation. “It’s dark and it’s probably far.”

I ran until their voices were out of earshot. To catch my breath, I hid behind a drycleaners. When I felt the coast was clear, I reached into the bag and grabbed UCLA’s phone. It turned on and it showed full bars of reception again. I started to think.

I reasoned that if there was enough reception in the area then there had to be people around. People who might be kind enough and take in a girl in exchange for, oh, I don’t know, maybe the comfort of the written word, courtesy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Maybe I’d find my parents in one of these conveniently located houses or maybe an Army base who’d jump at the chance to cart a healthy white girl to safety so the human race could continue on.

I put in the number from the missing poster, but it rang once, then gave me the ascending chord followed by the lilting feminine robot voice, “The number you have dialed does not exist. Please check the number…”

I hung up, then flipped through the phone’s applications and found them largely useless. Mostly because they didn’t work and I couldn’t get anywhere with it. I went to a dating app just for kicks and found that was alive and well—it had been active for the past five minutes.

There was a time where you were warned about contacting people online, that you were warned about people contacting you. Anyone could be anyone or anything. Let the wrong person into your psyche and next thing you know, you’re hiding five thousand dollars cash in Cheerios boxes and sending them to Ghana to a guy named Kevin Kostner that you think you’re engaged to. These were lessons I had learned from a number of investigative shows that were meant to strike fear in all of us. I threw out all those fears and hunted for active profiles within a five-mile radius. I hunted for women and men. I messaged a girl named Chatelynne and asked if she was interested in meeting up. I watched the screen intently, my heart pounded at the hope for human contact through technology. Seventy five seconds later, she messaged me back. She asked if I had any Tina and how open minded I was. I messaged back that I didn’t know Tina and didn’t know what she was talking about. She responded with a quick “Fuck U” and went offline. So I kept on.

Two women told me that I had to prove I was a man and weren’t interested in me when I told them I was a woman looking for a friend. One said she was now saving herself for our new alien overlords, but wished me good luck on my search.

So I switched my preference to men and found a wider world of opportunity that seemed genuinely frightening. I also saw a lot of pictures of penises.

The first person I messaged had a nice unthreatening looking face. His name was Randy and liked video games and Spider-Man—the alternate universe series and the animated series, but not the Civil War series. There was a difference, and he wasn’t interested in anyone who felt otherwise. So I messaged him anyway, hoping he wouldn’t ask. Maybe an Apocalypse can change a man’s heart. He didn’t message me back, so instead I waded through strange men’s dick pics, looking for any alternates. I turned off the app and debated the safety of trying to sleep in an abandoned Arby’s that was a few blocks ahead.

It seemed sketchy, what with the stray dogs circling it and a shadowy figure that would pop up every now and then, but my newly acquired phone buzzed. I pulled it out and saw a message from Randy.

No profile picture? That’s okay, he had written. We should meet up. Are you busy tonight? Kind of limited on where to go, so I guess you can come to my house.

Thank god, he didn’t grill me on Spider-Man, but had jumped to the meet-up point. So I messaged him back and asked for directions.

* * *

He didn’t live far, and it turns out he was holed up in a house with four other thirty something graphic novel enthusiasts. He warmly greeted me and ushered me inside.

Just like his picture, he had a soft doughy appearance, a face that was warm and seemed untouched by human hardship. His roommates all followed suit, grunted at me and seemed a little intimidated at a girl in their midst by the way they avoided eye contact with me.

The house was like the world before the Incident. There was a large comfy couch that I itched to curl up on, a wall with shelves stuffed with games and movies, and in the center of the living room was a massive flat screen TV, which was on and showing a violent action movie.

“You’re watching a movie?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Randy said. “We’ve been dying to see the director’s cut of Enter the Dragon, but Jeremy finally found the copy his mom sent him over a month ago. Ever seen it?”

“You have power,” I said truly in awe as I looked around. “This is amazing.”

“I guess. It’s just a generator,” he said. “Better news is, Jeremy just made parmesan pastry pups. Hungry?”

I stared, incredulous. “I thought the world was done,” I said. “There are people fighting to the death over Flamin’ Hot Cheetos just a few miles away.”

Randy shrugged and offered me a plate of pastry pups with a big smile. “They’re really good. You should have some.”

I took one and let my teeth bite into its deliciousness.

“So,” he said. “Walking into the house of strange men. What’s it like to do that with no fear?”

“Aren’t you worried that you’ll attract the wrong people?” I asked. “I just met you, but I’ve got a really interesting story about how I almost became a concubine because I took a UCLA sweatshirt. I could be a cannibal. They’re out there, you know.”

Randy shook his head at me. “No stories,” he said. “We’re all quite aware of what’s going on out there and we worked really hard to make this a safe zone. And no questions either. You seem like a cool girl, but I’d hate to send you back outside.”

I stopped and weighed the options. My gaze traveled upward, where there was a staircase and a lighted hall, whose wall space was covered in limited edition Lord of the Rings replica swords. I knew there had to be beds up there, and possibly real working bathrooms.

I smiled and took a pastry pup, squelching the desire to grab ten more. It was the perfect combination of flaky crust and salty sausage. I took a bite and enjoyed its saltiness.

“It’s really good,” I whispered. “And is that a framed Tron soundtrack over there?” I asked, pointing at the framed LP on the wall.

“You should tell Jeremy,” Randy said.

“Okay,” I said, turning to face Jeremy’s surly posture. “What’s up with the Tron soundtrack?”

“No,” Randy said. “I meant, he made the pastry puffs. You should tell him you like it.”

“Oh,” I said. “Thanks, Jeremy. They’re tasty.”

Jeremy sat in the corner of a room behind a table painting X-Men figures. He looked up and nodded at me.

“Jeremy’s a little upset at us,” Randy whispered.

“Why?” I asked. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “It was his week to invite a girl over and we had to sacrifice her because she made fun of Brett’s light saber, then used all the lotion on her legs.”

“You sacrificed her?” I tried to keep my voice calm. “That doesn’t mean what I think it does? Does that mean something different now?”

“I-It’s lotion,” he stammered. “You use it. And you don’t question when people want it!”

“Silly me.” I tried to mask the nervousness of what I might have just entered. “It’s strange any woman wouldn’t recognize that.”

“Seemed even stranger that she wouldn’t recognize the detailed craftsmanship of a light saber that Brett spent the last year making,” he said. “She had to go.”

“So she just went willingly?”

He shrugged again. “We dragged her to that Arby’s down the street and let the gang in there deal with her.”

My stomach turned over with a main course of nausea with a side of fear, but tried to play it cool. “Um,” I said. “That seems a little harsh.”

He looked confused. “How so?”

“Because –“ I started to explain what I thought was the obvious, but seeing Randy’s quizzical face left me speechless. So I made a joke instead. “Who would ever want to be stuck at an Arby’s, am I right? That weird horseradish sauce.”

He nodded, chuckling under his breath. “I know, right?”

I looked around at the contents of the house, marveling at how jam packed it was with so much lightness and fun.

“You still want to check out my Tron record?” he said. “It’s a first pressing.”

Randy led me to it, and I tried to hold my own in a conversation about Tron. At least I smiled and nodded to a lot of it.

“Mmm,” I said. “Neon rings and stuff.”

Randy laughed. It came out as sort of a choking, nasally sound that made his overly soft belly shake. “That’s funny,” he said.

“Is it?” I cleared my throat. “So what kind of work are we doing here?”

The question seemed offensive to him and he became suddenly abrupt.

“That sounds like a nosy question,” he said. “And we can’t allow that. So you should think about that by folding some laundry.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “What—”

He pointed down the hall. “Laundry room’s over there. So you should probably get started on that.”

My reward for doing laundry without complaining was spending the night in a bed. A real bed. It had covers and sheets and everything. I also spent the night next to a framed picture of Randy’s family, all four of them chunky and clean, preserved in a magic minute of time where everything was fine in the world.

Before I went to sleep, Randy kindly offered me a shirt.

“Sometimes girls like to sleep in guy shirts,” he said, awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with me. “Something I’ve noticed. You could change into it after you have a shower.”

“A shower?” I asked. “With hot water?”

“Of course!” he said. “Is there any other kind?”

“Like a real shower,” I said. “What other kind is there?”

It was indeed a real shower with real hot water. While I shampooed my hair, I briefly considered never leaving it.

The best part was I got ten hours of sleep and Randy pulled no funny business. Maybe he wanted to, but maybe he just liked having someone next to him. I crawled into bed awkwardly, accepted that I may be the first girl there and I was going to negotiate some fumbling around. But instead, he flipped over and muttered, “Goodnight.” So I laid there and listened to him switch on his tablet that made sounds that sounded like girlish giggling.

I spent one week there. At least I’m pretty sure it was a week.

The first day, I spent pretty much taking everything in. The guys played video games, watched movies, marathoned TV shows and had spirited arguing matches about the Silver Surfer’s role in the Ultron saga while slumped into overstuffed couches. Every now and then I would pipe up with a stupid quip, sometimes they laughed and sometimes I was met with awkward silence, to which I would get up to clear dishes and go into the kitchen to clean them.

“Hey, guys,” I said. “Howard the Duck wears pants and Donald Duck doesn’t? What’s up with that?”

That got a laugh and I felt comfortable enough to claim me a blanket to sit under on the couch.

“Black Manta?” I asked later on that day. “Isn’t it more PC to call it African-American Manta?”

One of the roommates wordlessly took the blanket away and I spent the rest of the evening scraping burnt cheese off a cookie sheet that had previously been used to bake six tier nachos on it.

If Jeremy left his table, it was always when I wasn’t looking. Usually, he was hard at work on his laptop, tapping furiously or preserving 80s era action figures all while constantly pushing his glasses up his nose.

Randy was sweet. He opened doors for me and made sure I had everything I needed. We talked about Star Wars, Star Trek and the vices of J.J. Abrams. He seemed afraid to touch me and was genuinely interested when I tried to recommend episodes of the Powerpuff Girls to him. It was hard to get him away from his phone and his computer. He was occupied with work—all members of the house were, but they were in no position to answer questions about what they were doing.

And there was food. Guh, so much food. They had converted the dining room into some kind of food storage shelter that was jam packed with anything you could possibly want or at least everything I’d been dreaming of since I had started my Survivalist Jesus Diet. Bags of Doritos, Twinkies, Pop-Tarts, cases upon cases of both regular Coke and Coke Zero—that being for one of the roommates who was trying to cut back. In the kitchen were two freezers, also filled to the brim with food—ice cream with Reese’s pieces shellacked inside, frozen pizzas, soba noodle bowls, which I had never tried, but since it was now a luxurious option, it had moved to the top of my must-eat list.

Randy pulled out a Coke from the refrigerator and handed it to me with a smile. “Sorry that this is all we’ve got,” he said. “There’s a shortage on everything else.”

I took the can and admired it, as if it were some valuable piece of art or one of those fancy expensive jars of face cream with things like cow placenta and gold that celebrities use.

“How are you getting all this?” I asked. “And how have the monsters outside not figured it out?”

He held a pouch of Capri Sun and stabbed it with a straw. He closed his eyes and gulped deeply from it. “We have our ways,” he said, smacking his lips, then licking all the drops of juice that had escaped out of the bottle. “But don’t worry about it. You should see the table top Pac Man we have upstairs.”

Day two was much of the same. I was still navigating my joke territory, but becoming more and more interested in what these guys were up to. They snacked constantly on everything rich, sugary and deep fried, which made me notice the parallels of what they were eating and how often the toilet got clogged. If they needed refills or anything from any part of the room, it was my job to jump up and get it. No one was interested in any kind of movement at all.

I got another shower and earned a place in the Super Smash Bros tournament for making a joke about The Walking Dead, which I was really thankful for being the one thing there that I was kind of familiar with. I was already getting cabin fever. No one left that house and the windows were sealed shut and covered in boards. It smelled the way you would expect a houseful of pop culture enthusiasts who never go outside world. I noticed there was a door leading to the backyard on the second day. I opened the door and drank in fresh air like a soldier desperate for water after long days in the desert. Jeremy was quick to shut it and give me a stern look.

Randy was getting more and more disinterested in me as the days were going by. I enjoyed not having to be awkward about sleeping arrangements, but this was the Apocalypse, and weren’t we supposed to be fearing extinction? Before the threat of our survival, I was maybe a six on a ten scale, but this should have definitely bumped me up to a seven or eight.

For a group of guys with anytime access to a shower, they weren’t keen on using it. They rarely got up to doing anything much less breaking a sweat. They were content to work on their laptops and stare at that big screen in the middle of the living room, occasionally breaking into arguments over which X-Men mutant power was better.

It was day five, maybe day six, and Jeremy had gotten up to make crab cakes for the group. Not me, though. I got caught rolling my eyes and was sent to think about what I’d done by organizing the storage closet. Jeremy was at his desk and saw my reaction through the reflection in a mirror. He stopped and stared at me as he stared at his screen. I hung back close just to get a glimpse of what he was doing. I craned my neck and expected to see something, anything other than what I saw, which was just lines and lines and lines of code.

“What are you doing?” Jeremy demanded.

“Uh, sorry,” I said. “I was curious.”

“Curious about what?” Jeremy asked, agitated. “You don’t know what it is.”

“No, no, no,” I said. “It’s just that I thought…”

I strained to think. This would make the difference between changing the batteries in the gaming controllers or getting carted off to Arby’s.

“…working on a novel,” I said.

He seemed to soften slightly at that. Maybe what worked for Bruce worked for every guy out there.

“Me?” he asked. “I wouldn’t be doing that. No, I’m not talented enough.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve tried. I really wanted to. Reading Game of Thrones makes me really want to, you know?”

I sympathetically shook my head. “Mmm hmm.”

He shook his head. “And then I think, what’s the point?”

I nodded. “Self-doubt,” I said. “We all get it.”

“But that’s no reason for you to look at my computer!” he exploded. He rose from his chair and pointed an angry finger at me. “Do you have any idea what damage you could have done? The whole network would have been screwed up!”

Randy rushed in. “What happened?”

“You’re never inviting another girl here. I don’t care how well she cleans the bathroom,” Jeremy announced as he pointed at me. “She was going to take down the Internet.”

I raised an eyebrow and snorted. “I doubt that. No one can take down the Internet.”

“We’re controlling it here,” Randy said. “It fell apart, and now we’re trying to put it back together. We only have small coverage, but it’s making a difference. It’s enough for your phone to find me, anyway.”

I was stunned. This was the new Garden of Eden. Life was starting over here.

“This is huge,” I said. “What are you doing with it? Are there scientists and architects working to rebuild? What happened with the Incident? Do they know what happened? Is there a cure to what’s killed so many people? Can I look up my parents? Marilyn and Steve Sonobe?”

Randy waved his arms at me. “Jeez,” he said. “Take it down a notch, would you?”

Jeremy snorted. “Scientists and architects.”

“We’ve got a network,” Randy said. “We’re in contact with people doing the same thing we are in different parts of the world. Also, Toronto is paying us to keep them connected to the Internet. It’s not much, but it’s keeping the lights on.”

He gave me a goofy grin as if he were bragging about third place in the junior high science fair.

“But we’re not rebuilding anything?” I asked. “Wouldn’t this help rebuild society?

“Rebuild?” he asked as stared at me with confusion. “Rebuild? Everything is here. We’re officially better than everyone else. The way it should be.”

“B-But,” I stammered. “What about things like life and families?”

Randy beamed. “I have a girlfriend in the Philippines. So I’m good.” He tapped an app on his tablet, summoning an anime girl who blew us a kiss.

“Her name is Bernadette,” he said. “She likes carrot cake, the Clone Wars and thigh-high stockings.”

I shook my head. “All of that sounds made up.”

He shoved his tablet in front of my face where an anime girl blew me a kiss. Bernadette was very exotic-looking and wore some kind of uncomfortable-looking black leather boob strap with a matching bikini bottom and platform boots. She was also animated and did some kind of wink face over and over on a loop.

“You know she’s not real, right?”

He gave me a hurt look, as though I told him Attack of the Clones was a much better movie than Empire Strikes Back.

“Of course she’s real,” he said. “Look at her.”

He gestured fiercely at his laptop screen. “She’s looking at us now. Don’t be rude.”

“Randy,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “Look, you’re a cute girl, but this is the love of my life.”

He looked me in the eye and cocked his head to the side in an “I understand” matter. “We’re still friends, right?” he asked.

“At the risk of getting banished to an Arby’s, it makes me wonder if you’ve lost the ability to connect,” I said. “And don’t flatter yourself.”

“Watch,” he said. “I can connect.” He typed in words in a dialogue box. “She’ll respond,” he said. “And if I was such a doubter like you, you would have never been allowed inside this house.”

“When was the last time you’ve been out?” I asked. “I think you’ve all gone stir crazy.”

He shrugged and then clapped with happiness when the laptop made a sound like a door chime.

“See!” he exclaimed. “She responded. Bet you feel silly now. Silly enough to make everyone in this house hot chocolate.”

“She has terrible grammar skills.” I pointed to the screen. “Not to mention the fact I highly doubt she’s spent today in her bikini having fun in the sun, considering it’s a sun that’s probably harmful.”

I grabbed the tablet out of his hand and took a closer look. “She’s also going to get a bitch of a yeast infection from that leather G-string.”

I handed it back to him as he gave me the side eye, so I got up and wandered around the house. I tried to get a look outside, but the boards were nailed in tight over the windows. Downstairs, Jeremy wasn’t at his usual station so I tried the back door.

Just a breath of air, that’s all I wanted, who cares about acid rain. I unlocked the dusty lock and then pulled it open. The sun was going down, so the sky was a myriad of oranges, reds and purples. It was gorgeous, and I breathed in deep to the cool, crisp air, which was amazing at first, but then there was something slightly off putting. There was a slight chemical hint to the air, like maybe there was something being pumped in. Maybe it was the thing making the sky that weird shade of neon purple. I don’t know. Maybe it had something to do with the black chemtrails in the sky. I’m not a scientist, so I’m not going to try to have answers to these problems.

I heard the sound of the toilet flush, so I took in my last gulp of free air before quickly and silently shutting the door. I arranged the boards how I found them. I turned slightly, fully expecting to see Jeremy’s wrath, but instead I saw no one. I did hear, however, the sound of a doughy frame of a large man sliding down a wall and then hitting the floor. I followed the sound of that, then turned around to investigate. My search began and ended at the closest bathroom where Jeremy had slid to the floor in a fleshy rumpled heap, completely passed out.

“Jeremy?” I asked as I rushed to his side. I took his hand and patted it. “Jeremy?”

He didn’t stir, but I could see him breathe from the way a Doritos crumb quivered in his moustache.

“Guys?” I called out. I looked out toward the living room where the other two roommates were passed out in front of the massive television.

I ran to the kitchen and poured some water out of the faucet into a Burger King collectible Star Wars glass. The water had that similar brownish tinge of the earlier house, but regardless, a house with power and Wi-Fi had to have safe water, so I rushed it over to Jeremy and splashed it down his hairy face. The moment it hit his skin it sizzled and steamed.

He awoke screaming in pain. “What is that? What’s happening?” he asked.

“You were passed out,” I said. “I didn’t know what was wrong—”

“So you burn my face off?” he asked as lumbered to his feet. “Everyone knows that water is toxic!”

“I didn’t! And you were unconscious.”

“Randy!” he shouted.

There was silence for a beat. “If it’s about Verdell,” he said from upstairs. “We’re not talking to her until she apologizes to Bernadette.”

“Look, don’t be upset,” I said. “I was worried something was wrong. I still am—” I gestured over to the other two who hadn’t stirred. “Are they okay?”

“Probably,” he said. “We all wake up eventually.”

Jeremy had now crossed over to the sink, taken a paper towel and rubbed his face, roughly.

“I don’t know where you would get the idea that it was okay to use tap water.” He tapped his own head. “Hello? We’re in an Apocalypse! You wanna let Four Horsemen in while you’re at it?”

“But there was water!” I said. “I took a shower in it!”

“That’s recycled water in the upstairs bathroom,” he said. “Technically, we’ve all been showering and peeing in that water for the past month or so.”

I grimaced. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Outside there was shouting and faintly I could smell smoke.

“What is that?” I strained to look out a window.

Jeremy yawned and slumped down to the floor again. “I’m so tired. Randy!”

There was thump from upstairs. I started to go toward it, but Jeremy fumbled for my arm.

“Don’t go up there,” he said. “You’re not welcome here anymore.

“What about Randy?” I asked. “He might not be okay.”

I ran for the stairs despite Jeremy’s protests. I went up and headed toward Randy’s bedroom and let myself in. He was slumped over the bed with his tablet open.

“Randy?” I asked.

He didn’t respond.

I shook him. “Randy!”

His eyes fluttered open and he groaned slightly as he slowly sat up. “What’s happening?”

“Are you okay?”

Suddenly he jerked himself up and grabbed his computer. “What are you doing?” he asked. “You’re interrupting my date with Bernadette.”

“You were passed out!” I said. “There’s something wrong with the air in here.”

He rubbed his face like a sleepy toddler. “There’s something wrong with you,” he said. “You got a shower. You got to eat Jeremy’s pastry pups. You don’t own us or this place.”

“That’s not it,” I said. “I think there’s something wrong with this house. Is there a gas leak?”

Outside, there was the sound of a very distinct explosion. It rocked the house slightly and was followed by some barbaric cheers. Then the smell of smoke became even more present.

“Is something on fire?” I asked.

Randy turned back to his computer and shrugged. “Ask Jeremy,” he said. “He’s probably just makings us fajitas.”

“Pretty sure that’s fire,” I said. “Don’t you want to get up and investigate?”

“I don’t want to get up.” He sighed, then yawned heavily. “See if the guys want to start watching Game of Thrones from the beginning again.”

“Didn’t you watch that whole series two days ago?”

He flashed me a look as his computer made a ping sound.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Bernadette’s wondering if she should change her nipple covers. Which ones do you like better?” He flashed me his tablet to show me.

“What were you doing on that dating site anyway?” I asked. “When I contacted you.”

Randy looked back down at the screen. “Jeremy wanted someone to clean the bathroom. We figured it wouldn’t be hard to get any girl out there to do it.” He settled in and wrapped himself in a blanket. “Now leave,” he said. “And don’t come back unless Jeremy made something or you have something worthwhile to add to this household.”

I went back downstairs and realized that Jeremy and the other two roommates were drowsily waiting for me. One of them could barely stand up while Jeremy still hadn’t gotten up from the floor.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“It’s time,” Jeremy said. “You have to go. I think we’ve been patient, but you’re clearly not the fifth roommate that we tinkered with needing.”

Another explosion erupted, rocking the house.

“I’m not going out in that.” I sat in a firm motion on the step. “You send me out there, you might as well convict yourselves of murder.”

“Please,” Jeremy said. He grabbed my arm and tried to hoist me up, but it required too much effort on his part. He was out of breath and let me go.

“You’re getting Arby’s whether you like it or not,” he said.

“Someone in need of some exercise?”

He took a deep breath and put his hand on his heart. “I’m too busy for the gym. I’ve got other things to do.”

“Like not share life-saving technology with those who might need it?” I asked.

He tried again to hoist me up, but I became a dead weight.

“Would you two help?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

One of the roommates rubbed his eyes. “I thought I could do it,” he said. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow. I’m just too tired.”

“There you go,” I said. “You’ve had a jam-packed day. I can easily wait until tomorrow.”

Jeremy went over to the dining room and moved one of the stock-heavy shelves. Behind it was a door, which he weakly knocked on it with a slight thump. He was slightly winded, but he tried again. This time, it was followed by heavy footsteps and a large man, maybe six-feet-five or six-feet-six, emerging. He was hairy and seemed a bit discombobulated, but he rubbed his eyes in the light and looked around.

“Right here,” Jeremy said.

The man grunted slightly, but turned his attention toward Jeremy.

“Who’s this?” I asked. “Has he been in your basement this whole time?”

“We call him Galactus,“ Jeremy said. “He happily sits in his basement quietly—”

Galactus grumbled.

“Quietly,” Jeremy emphasized. “Until we need him. He’s totally happy. Think about how hard jobs are to find in this era and you’ll stop giving me judgement eyes.”

“So you’re telling me there’s a woman out there who said, ‘I don’t care who it offends, I’m sending a child out into the world named Galactus,’” I said.

Jeremy shook his head. “Duh. It’s Galactus! He’s only the Devourer of worlds! Besides, I don’t know what his real name is.”

“Also, he’s a big fat guy,” said another roommate. “It just made sense.”

“What’s your real name?” I asked.

“Joaquin,” he muttered.

“Hi, Joaquin.”

“Hi.”

“I don’t have the energy for any of this.” Jeremy braced himself against the wall. “Galactus, take her to Arby’s and pick up our food delivery.”

Galactus, or Joaquin, nodded, took a few steps toward me and picked me up with such strength and speed there was no reaction time for me.

“Hey,” I said.

He threw me over his shoulder and moved toward the basement door. Randy’s head poked down from the stairway.

“Is Galactus doing a run?”

“He’s throwing out your girlfriend too, but yes,” Jeremy said, handing Galactus the keys.

“This is bullshit by the way,” I said.

“Tell him to pick up Oreos. The kind stuffed with cookie dough.”

Galactus turned and steered me into a smelly basement and all I could think about was how cookie dough Oreos sounded about like the grossest thing ever.

I strained against the guy, but he was too strong.

“Joaquin,” I said. “You don’t have to do this. Please don’t take me to Arby’s. No one should go there. Apocalypse or not.”

Joaquin was silent and carried me through another back door, this leading to where a Honda Civic with the windows covered in plastic bags and duct tape sat.

He opened the backseat door and then gently placed me inside. I scrambled to get on my feet, but he placed a meaty finger over his lips.

“Stay,” he said.

I watched him go over to the gas gauge and give it a good steady twist, then run to the driver’s side of the car, shut the doors and start up the engine.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He peeled out of the driveway as I noticed fires spring up left and right all over the neighborhoods. Houses and trees freely burned while wreckage came down gently over the roof of the car.

“Joaquin?” I asked.

The car sped down the street and I could see the Arby’s sign brightly shining in the night.

“Joaquin,” I said. “I know work is hard to find in the economy, but please don’t think you have to—”

He didn’t even slow down. He passed by that haunted Arby’s like it wasn’t even a thought in his mind. I breathed a sigh of relief and felt as if I had accomplished my own survival. He did stop at a non-working stoplight instead and made a slow U-turn, then drove back in the house’s direction.

I scrambled up to the passenger side of the car as he slowed down toward the luxury house. He pulled up a safe distance from it and then took out a cigar from his pocket and a match.

“I’ve heard cigars are like smoking eight cigarettes at once,” I said.

He lit up.

“Is that true?” I asked.

He took the still lit match and then threw it at the house. It hit the porch, quickly grew to flame, then took over the entire infrastructure.

I lurched forward in horror, and gasped. I leaned over and tried to jerk the door handle open, but it wouldn’t budge.

“No!” I said, covering my mouth. “There’s people in there!”

His heavy turkey leg-shaped arm slammed me back into my seat as he puffed a cloud of smoke into my face.

“Wanna see me burn down another neighborhood?” he asked, face lit up, so incredibly excited.

“What does that mean?”

He looked hurt. He shrugged. “I don’t get out much. Except going back and forth between bosses.”

“If you think I’m going to touch you anywhere, you’re incredibly wrong.” I folded my arms.

“Why would I want you to do that?” he asked, his voice high with confusion.

“Um, well,” I said. “Now everything’s just awkward.”

His demeanor changed. He furrowed his brow. “God, I’ve got to turn down all this masculinity,” he exclaimed “It’s giving girls like you the wrong idea.”

I turned away and looked out the window. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

CHAPTER 10

No Matter How Small, You Still Have Skills – Use Them

JOAQUIN WAS A MAN of few words. He lit up a cigar and puffed away at it, dispelling smoke in my face. I grimaced and tried to discreetly wave it away, in case I was seen as being rude. If this was pre-Apocalypse world and I was stuck in the car with him, be it as a courteous drive home or a date of low expectations, his silence would have made me nervous. Usually in that kind of situation, it would have made me amp up the casual chit chat, because that’s just a guard against an unwanted physical advance. However, just because the world had been destroyed and there were a few survivors still around, didn’t mean awkward silences weren’t still a thing.

“Boy, you know what I miss?” I asked, my voice fast and half an octave higher than usual. “Target. Such a good store.”

Joaquin said nothing, just stared at the road, letting cigar smoke curl around his head.

“I bought these shoes; they’re like brown color blocked Mary Janes, like one part is lighter than the other and tons of people complimented me on it. Super comfortable and found them in the clearance. Like, thirteen dollars or something.” I let my voice trail off. “Really good deals.”

Again, Joaquin was silent. I had just watched him kill four men by setting the house on fire and had no idea what was going on in his brain. Was I next? Was he going to do it again? Was he going to dump me off at Arby’s? Did they still make those tasty potato cakes? Who was going to take care of Bernadette?

“Let’s make one thing clear,” he said. “You’re not my type.”

With that, he got out of the car.

There’s nothing more disappointing than realizing that building relationships still sucks even after the Apocalypse, especially with a man who might kill you. Despite that, I knew that pickings were slim, relationship wise. He didn’t at least want to make one awkward advance?

“What’s your favorite show?” I asked nervously as I tried to keep my tone light. “You had a TV in that house…” I let my voice get super quiet, “…before you blew it up.”

Joaquin wordlessly pulled into the parking lot of a Costco, whose normally brightly lit sign was completely dim. By this point, I was still talking, but my voice was even higher, faster and now shaky.

“…and that’s why I can’t wear ankle socks.”

“Shut up,” he said as pulled the car to a complete stop.

I happily nodded and obeyed.

He flicked his lights on twice and waited. I took deep breaths, fearful that I was going to have to come up with a plan, and quickly, to get out of him making that last stop at Arby’s.

The windows were made of plastic bags. Maybe I could grab and pull my way out. I cast a furtive look on the floor under the seats, searching for a jack or a bat or something intimidating weapon wise. All I could see was some pairs of men’s tighty whiteys and a book that looked like it was about Polish time travelers.

He flicked his lights on and off again and this time a figure of a man appeared in the darkness. Following him where several smaller figures, all women.

“Joaquin!” the man yelled. “Get out here!”

Joaquin scrambled out, but before he left the car he put his finger over my mouth.

“Shush,” he said.

He ran over to the mysterious man and gave him a giant hug. I watched him lead the man over to one of the doors of the Costco, then use the key Jeremy had given him to let the man and his women inside.

I grabbed the door handle, jiggled it and then tore at the plastic. I hefted myself out the window and awkwardly fell out of the car. I picked myself up and ran across that parking lot. I figured I could make it heading west. There were some lights placed far apart and maybe there was another quarantine, maybe another Army base where I could be registered and maybe there was a family member, clutching my photo and praying for my return and maybe someone wanted to test me for a disease, after all. I could be open to it, in exchange for a better purpose to life. My mind couldn’t bring up any specific family member. Any one of them would do, just someone to make me feel home again.

I didn’t get far, as out of nowhere a blunt force grabbed me and slammed me down to the hard asphalt.

“Ow!” I screamed as it ground into my face.

Joaquin’s wide fleshly face appeared above me, shaking his finger. “I told you not to move.”

“No, you didn’t. You told me to shut up,” I said. “Which I followed. Until now. You didn’t say anything about leaving the car.”

“Joaquin, who is this?” asked a man’s voice.

“Found her,” he said quietly. “In exactly the way you said.”

I sat up and winced from the pain of coming face-to-face with gravity. “Excuse me?”

The man came closer and bent down. In the flickering light of the one working lamp in the parking lot, I recognized him as my old boss.

“Robert!” I tried to stand. “What are you doing here?”

“Doing what I can,” he said. “Same as you. Still alive I see. I’ve taken on a new position.”

He extended an arm. I took it, and he helped me to my feet. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Have you seen my new empire?”

“Really?” I asked. “How’d your human wall find me?”

Joaquin looked hurt. “I’ll have you know that I have a glandular problem!”

Robert seemed pretty pleased with himself. “I figured since you were single and looking for a rebound, I sent this guy to houses with groups of single men with lots of time on their hands.” He had a weird grin. “So how’d that house find you, anyway? Which one of those guys did you follow home?”

I was still picking asphalt out of my clothes. “You make me sound desperate,” I said. “I wasn’t desperate.”

“So how’d you meet them?”

“Dating app,” I mumbled. “Not what you think, though.”

He leaned forward, hand to his ear. “Didn’t get that. One more time.”

“Dating app,” I said louder. “Happy?”

He gestured to Joaquin, who now wandered in a small circle in the parking lot, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Any interest there?”

“Well,” I said. “Ten minutes ago, he blew up a house with four men in it and announced to myself and that Honda Civic that I’m not his type.”

“Uh-oh.” He playfully jabbed Joaquin in the wide gut. “I’ll tell you what I told her. No one cares about the noise your stomach makes during quarterly meetings as long as you have good people skills.”

He chuckled at his own joke. Out of habit, I followed his lead, but sarcastically.

“You look good,” he said. “It’s great to see you getting yourself out there.”

I stared incredulously at him, then at Joaquin, then back at him.

“Getting myself out there?” I asked. “Getting myself out there? What kind of world do you think we live in now?”

I felt the anger and annoyance rising. It felt warm and familiar like an oversized sweater in his smug face. It was the years of trying to follow his every unannounced change of plans, or having him tell me I was failing after I explained to him that I would not sit in his house and wait for a TV to be delivered.

“I don’t know what you’ve done,” I said. “But I’ve been almost been abandoned at an Arby’s, left for dead at the quarantine and been forced to flip through dick pics. Which are apparently still things!”

He frowned. “What happened to Jake?” he asked. “Thought you two were going to work it out.”

“Eh,” I said. “Long story short, his girlfriend tried to murder me after he got locked out of the quarantine and killed for a plate of sandwiches.”

“Boy, that’s rough,” he said. “You okay?”

“Eh.”

“That had to be hard for you.”

I folded my arms and looked away. “It’s in the past.”

“A week ago,” he said. “I have to say, given that you’ve had two boyfriends die horrible deaths, you’ve taken it rather cavalierly. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ve been grieving,” I said. “It’s a process.”

He tilted his head in a sort of “I care” pose, nodded and reached over to pat me on the arm.

“I have some wonderful wisdom for you, but you can only receive it if you’re ready,” he said.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Okay.”

“Regulators have incented companies and individuals to conform to desired behaviors with threats of heavy fines,” he said. “Specific form, rate, disclosure and financial filing requirements carry serious penalties for non-compliance.”

I heard words, but it was as though my mind picked them up, looked at them and shrugged.

“I have no idea what you just said to me,” I said.

“Then you’re clearly not ready for the gospel of risk management,” Robert said, holding his similarly named textbook in his hands.

“This is your Bible?” I asked. “You’re still going on about this risk management nonsense? This is how we’re living?”

“Come,” Robert said and offered me his hand. “There is a new way to Eden, and if you leave yourself open to it, you’ll find it just as I did.”

Reluctantly, I took it as I left Joaquin all alone in the parking lot. “As long as there’s a big ass tub of Animal crackers,” I said.

“I’m sure we can do something.”

As we wandered up and down the food-packed aisles of the store, I looked at it in awe.

“Why does no one else come here?” I asked. “How have you not been ransacked?”

“Joaquin was holding it together when I found it,” he said. “But I’ve put together a crack team.”

In the week since I had last seen Robert, he had run off with Rebecca the quarantine nurse, but along the way, they kept coming across stray women, all who begged for something to eat or some kind of shelter. He offered kind words thanks to his Secrets of Risk Management guide, reading it to whoever wanted to listen. He inspired lonely women disciples, who swore their loyalty and whatever else they had to give. He offered comfort and security in the texts, which had some kind of logic that I didn’t understand. At least that’s what he explained as he led me farther into the store.

“So all these are your wives?” I asked and took a rather large jug of Gatorade from the shelf.

He nodded. “It’s really everything I’ve wanted, and they all can’t wait for whatever it is I have to say.”

He looked out into the distance with a dreamy look in his eyes.

“It’s like a never ending staff meeting.”

He explained to me that he met Joaquin when he discovered the Costco. Joaquin had been living inside behind the cases of dog food when he caught Robert’s two wives trying to break in. At first, he’d tried to seduce them into staying for vanilla wafers and bubble bath. Instead, they ran away and alerted Robert, who came down and told him to get his act together and that he’d be useless in any organization. Joaquin was inspired and prompted to tears. He promised to do anything for change and the chance to be half as successful. Robert felt bad and made a deal with him. He gave Joaquin a job and a picture of me, one from the Mitchellwide directory, and told him that if he could find me and get access to Costco, he’d be given lifelong employment on a seat on Robert’s right hand.

“Like an actual chair?” I asked as I pantomimed a chair with my hands.

“It’s figurative,” he said. “I speak in metaphors. Keep up.”

“What else are you doing?” I asked and took large gulps of Mountain Blue flavored Gatorade. “It’s a wonder you all haven’t been murdered yet.”

Robert shook his head. “Rebecca’s useless, but there’s a girl named Rachel who’s something special. She has a real can-do attitude when it comes to stabbing someone with a shiv or shooting them from a rooftop. That’s a valuable skill, Verdell. The keys to effective management are to find people with potential to make your team better.”

“I thought Randy had potential,” I said. “Can you blame me for just wanting to have food and TV on hand?”

“This is even better.” He nodded in agreement. “You can be part of the winning team and not feel the need to feel complete with a man.”

I shrugged and sighed heavily. “For the last time, I’m not desperate to find someone. Even if they were desperate to find me. Which apparently no one is.”

“You just need to find your purpose,” Robert said. “Which you will.”

A high-pitched argument suddenly broken out near the frozen foods section.

“We agreed, I get the last one, you walking pork roast!” yelled one of the women.

“Girls!” Robert said patiently. “Let’s calm it down over there. Don’t make me set up a thirty minute update meeting with you.”

The voices died down.

“You do seem calmer and more centered,” I said. “It’s like you’ve reached a love of management only few have dreamed of.”

“Married life in the end times has taught me quite a few things,” he said. “We have to fight for the things we want, and the old rules just don’t apply.”

“Which marriage?” I asked. “The one from last week or the one from three days ago?”

He shrugged. “External regulatory, peer and social forces play a big role, however, penalties and incentives are a primary driver,” he said. “It may sound cliché, but studies show motivating individuals often requires an incentive carrot.”

“What is that?” I asked, confused. “Are you memorizing that risk management book now?”

He took it out from his robe and pressed it to his forehead. “The more you read into this book, the more it shares its secrets with you.”

“You realize that you’re not making sense anymore, right?”

“Communication is give and take,” he said. “You’re just taking. It’s time to give.”

We passed another aisle, this one full of t-shirts and sweatpants. “Speaking of give and take, I could do inventory. Or tell the others to do it instead of killing people. I’m a great delegator.”

“Not too late to give Joaquin a shot,” he said, then walked off. “Keeping options open is a great motivating factor.”

“For who?” I called out. He didn’t answer.

In true Robert fashion, he called a meeting in the food area of Costco. Just before it, he pulled me aside as I walked toward the bathroom.

“Should we put together an agenda?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“For what?” I asked. “What are we going to talk about?”

He nodded. “Women need to be guided. Put them in a room together with no boundaries and it’s just going to be a Tupperware party or witchcraft.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nice,” I said. “So what do you normally talk about with these women?”

“Well,” he said. “I’d introduce you.”

“Great.”

“I’d have them take a vote on whether to keep you or send you back?”

I was annoyed. “Then what was the point of sending Joaquin the charm school graduate to come and find me?”

“A good manager finds good help,” he said. “I thought you’d like to be considered.”

I was pleased. Finally, I had Robert’s approval.

The women, seven of us total, all of varying ages and body types, happily sat around his feet, drinking in every word he said. Beforehand, he took me aside near the section with paper shredders. Once the women had gathered in the food court section, he paced back and forth, looking at each one. Joaquin sat on a counter where pizza had once been sold, glaring at me. I turned away.

“Ladies,” Robert began. “We have a new member to the family,” he said. “She is to be accepted. We have been on a great journey together, and I’m considering her for a pivotal role. She’s going to make us a better organization as we begin to fulfill our goals for this new world.”

“I love you, Robert!” one of the women cried.

He winked at her. “Right back at you,” he said. “Verdell, get up here.”

I obeyed and took inventory of these women’s faces. There was no acceptance there. There was judging. A lot of judging—not to mention a unanimous look in their eyes that none of them were going to call me friend.

Rebecca raised her hand. “Excuse me,” she snapped. “You seem familiar.”

I nodded. “Yes. You gave me a shot. Then you and Robert ran away and abandoned me there at the quarantine. But you were in love, so…”

I just let my voice drift away, which didn’t faze her in the least bit. She snapped her fingers.

“I remember you,” she said. “You’re that monster who was responsible for six deaths at the quarantine.”

I empathically shook my head. “No, no, no, no,” I said. “You’ve got it wrong. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“That boy’s only crime was to love you,” Rebecca said. “And you threw him away like garbage. All in exchange for some sandwiches.”

“Not true,” I said. “This story has clearly gone off the rails.”

“You stole food from a child and then hit him with it.”

“Nope,” I said. “Not true.”

“I heard you fed another boyfriend to Darren Warren,” she said. “The Darren Warren.”

“These are all rumors,” I protested, raising my voice. “Does no one check their sources?”

“I was there,” the woman said. “I remember it. Darren was a monster, and you found him food. You got away. It was inspirational.”

I gasped. “Hey, yeah!” I said, vaguely remembering her as one of Darren’s minions. I also remembered her tying Bruce down on the ground as Darren went to town with one of his cannibal ceremonies.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Rachel.” She offered her hand to me, which I shook.

“But we’re getting off track,” I said. “And Robert will tell you, I didn’t feed my ex-boyfriend—”

The women folded their arms, except for Rachel.

“I’ll vote for her,” she said.

“Look, for those of you still in doubt, we had long since broken up since the incident,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter since I told him not to get involved, but he did anyway. I cannot emphasize this enough. It was his choice. Ask Rachel—” I gestured to her. “They would have killed me.”

“Remember,” I gestured with my arms. “Did. Not. Kill,” I said. “Robert, you remember. You tell them.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Well, I really wasn’t there, so I couldn’t say what did or didn’t happen.”

“Come on,” I said. “Really?”

He shrugged. “I like the strong arguments coming out of this discussion.”

“She set fire to a house that had four unarmed men inside,” Joaquin said.

The women gasped, almost simultaneously.

“That was you!” I said. “And no one asked you to participate.”

“The point is,” Robert addressed his followers, his risk management book open in front of him like a preacher with a Bible. “She’s a survivor and a very seasoned one. She has skills that we are going to find invaluable as we take this new world by storm.”

One woman raised her hand. “Can she fix that dripping in the bathroom?” she asked.

“I’m really more of an organizer than a tinkerer,” I said. “Still don’t know how to cook over an open fire.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “You’re a murderous shark, and we’re going to make the most of that.”

He slapped me on the back, way too hard, and laughed.

“Why is that so funny?” I asked.

“Let’s put it to the vote,” he said. “Raise your hands for no.”

Joaquin, Rebecca and one other woman raised their hands.

“And to stay?”

The rest of the women raised their hands. Robert rubbed his together.

“Guess that’s that.”

We spent the night in that Costco. The women slept in large dog beds, but I was banished, newbie rule, so I spent the night on a pile of hoodies in a bin, which I found decently comfortable. I woke up a few times during the night, able to hear Robert and Joaquin, muttering. I looked up to see them drawing things over a dry erase board.

Costco had an amazing amount of old breakfast pastries still in plastic covered packages that Robert’s clan chowed down on. They were stale and tough, but it was food. Robert ate handfuls of Apple Jacks out of a massive four-pound box while perched on a counter with an empty soda dispenser.

“Ladies,” he said. “Let’s get our weekly staff call up and running.”

I shook my head in disbelief. Some things just will not die, Apocalypse or not.

“Call?” I asked. “Who are we calling?”

“We’re calling our hearts and minds together. We’ve been enormously blessed,” he said. “But it’s a waste to have all these resources and not make the most of them. So we’re going to be entrepreneurs and start a business.”

I raised my hand. He waved it away.

“My wives. And Verdell,” he said. “You’re all so beautiful, and it’s a shame the world as we know it, doesn’t know it. So as of this moment on, I’m turning this Costco into a gentlemen’s club. I’m taking suggestions for names.”

I raised my hand again. “What about me?”

“Look, I wouldn’t say you’re classically pretty, but—”

“What if it’s a question and a name suggestion?” I asked.

“That name better be good.”

“H-How about Robert’s Ill-Advised Mistake?” I sputtered.

“Question denied.”

“This is a terrible idea,” I said. “And you’re putting us in danger.”

Over the next few days, the girls worked really hard. They built an area with supplies from the store that made it look somewhat presentable as a strip club. They made a sign that just said, “NAKED GIRLS” and hung it up outside. Four additional women straggled in from the outside, begging for shelter and a job. Robert sent me to turn them away and then me again to chase them out of the store after one of them pushed me down and ran inside. I chased her down and told her she could keep a supersized jar of applesauce if she left. She agreed, but more importantly, people started to come in—people who looked worse for wear, near zombiehood, but still willing to part with whatever they had for the chance to see a strange woman’s nipples. They lined up even before Robert opened the doors.

Rachel cornered me while I tried to bathe in the small sink in the bathroom.

“We have a problem,” she said. “None of us want to strip.”

“Thank god,” I said. “I was concerned we’d be setting feminism back a peg.”

“Okay.” Rachel nodded. “But no one wants to tell Robert. It might hurt his feelings.”

“I get it,” I said. “No one likes to hear no, but if you appeal to his sense of logic, he’ll get over it eventually.”

“Exactly,” she said. “That’s why we thought you should be the one to tell him.”

I sighed. “Me? Why me?”

“It’ll be one of those feminist things that you really like to do,” she said.

“You don’t enjoy women’s rights?” I asked. “What woman doesn’t enjoy that?”

“Meh.” She was clearly bored by the subject. “Who has the time, you know?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I gave up.

On the onset, I was dead against stripping for money. End of the world or not, I still had morals and I was not going to shame my mother, wherever she might be. I decided I would only say something when he inevitably asked me my opinion. Unfortunately, he never asked me. I waited and waited, watched in judgment as Robert’s wives made homemade costumes and put together talent acts with the minimal amounts of talent they possessed. It was just going to take too much effort, so I let it be.

I marched into Robert’s office, which was just the section with kids’ furniture.

“Robert, we need to talk.”

He sat up in a baseball themed bunk bed.

“What now?” He sighed.

“The girls will come out, but we’re not taking our clothes off.”

He frowned and folded his arms. “Who’s we?” he asked. “You’re not getting ideas, are you? I don’t know if we can afford to lose money if you’re up there.”

“I’m going to ignore that comment,” I said. “But the bigger issue is that no one wants to do it. So we’re doing a variety show, even though some of us aren’t convinced that there’s a lot of talent here.”

“Fine,” he said testily. “If that model doesn’t work, then I’m taking in women who will.”

“Respectful as always.”

“What about you?”

“I thought you said no one wanted to see,” I gestured to my entire body, “this.”

“I stand by that,” he said. “I just need to know what you’re contributing.”

“I’ll count money,” I said. “I’ll schedule acts. You sit here and continue to brainstorm bad ideas.”

I volunteered to set up a meeting room with a schedule for all the women, and that seemed to get him excited. He asked me to do inventory, and that’s when I realized that there would be some things that weren’t going to change anytime soon.

We were getting all kinds of things as trade—iPods that didn’t work, shoes, Wheat Thins, books, action figures, weapons, drugs, etc. Robert just took anything, but after a while I had to put a stop to it.

“Listen,” I said to him after one night as someone had used a broken belt in exchange for admission. “We’re getting a lot of junk here. We’ve got to crack down and start asking for things that are actually useful.”

Rebecca shrugged as she tried to play off her defensiveness. “You didn’t say what I could take.”

She then burst into tears and ran off.

“Honey bunches of oats, no!” he said, running after her. “Come back!”

After that, Robert weirdly agreed and we set up a new system. We took things like weapons, gallon jugs of water, tools for trade and some harder drugs, which I didn’t even want to touch. Some of the girls set up their own bartering system for private entertainment, which ended up being one-on-one conversation behind the aisle of feminine products. It turned out that most men were just really lonely, and the women seemed pretty keen on copies of Twilight books and bottles of perfume.

As much as the feminist in me disagreed with the business, it was doing well, and I was pretty proud of how our hard work was paying off.

Most were still afraid of me, but I helped barter for better things. One night a guy tried to grab one of the new girls to kidnap her. So I snapped to action, and by snapped to action I mean, I first ordered Joaquin to take him down, which wasn’t easy, given that he had downed an entire can of spray cheese and had fallen asleep immediately after. When that got me nowhere, I ran after him, brandishing a defunct fire extinguisher. The scruffy-looking vagrant was in the parking lot with the struggling girl, set and ready to cram her into his Kia Sorrento when I called out.

“Hey!” I shouted.

I swung and missed, but it was enough to strike fear in his heart. His eyes widened and his arms immediately let go of the girl, who fell to the ground, whimpering. He put up his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, man,” he said. “I thought she wanted to come home with me.”

He backed away as I came at him again with the extinguisher. I felt real power, which charged through my veins like an adrenaline rush.

“Do I come to your house and take your stuff?” I asked.

He opened the door to his car. “Look, help yourself to whatever you want,” he said. “I got a box of envelopes, some pens, a stuffed animal. I think it’s a squirrel.”

I looked down at the girl.

“You want to go home with him?”

She shook her head. “He was talking to me, and I didn’t want to be rude, so I let him carry me out—”

I held up my hand. “Sir—”

The man ducked into his car and started the engine. I didn’t think anything of the incident until Rebecca approached me one morning and sat.

“I have to tell you something,” she said. “A lot of the girls agree. You did a great thing last night, and we really appreciate you looking out for us.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”

“I have something for you,” she said. “We all picked it out together.”

She handed me a package wrapped in used paper towels. Inside was a green hoodie, something I had been sleeping on for the past few months.

“Oh, how nice,” I said and smiled too broadly.

Rebecca beamed. “You’re so welcome. You look great in that color.”

“That’s really generous,” I said. “I’ll probably keep it with that stack of hoodies I sleep with every night.”

She beamed and went to get up, but stopped.

“One last thing,” she said. “Maritza is pregnant and her water broke. You should probably do something about that.”

She left. I turned after her. “Wait, what?”

Maritza, as it turned out, was the third wife to join about a week prior and had originally been married to a bank manager months before. The Apocalypse happened while he was on a business trip to Minneapolis and she felt that was that. Then she met Robert during a seminar on productivity outside an abandoned RV where she lived with a gang of teenage girls called the Twerknuts. His message enchanted her so much she said her goodbyes and followed him to Costco where she hid under as many layers as she could to hide the fact she was about to pop. She made for a terrible dancer, especially to any song by Nicki Minaj, but at least it now made sense.

I rushed off to mention it to Robert, who rubbed his chin, trying to hide the look of disgust. He had now reverted to wearing robes with nothing underneath. Sometimes he tied the belt around his waist. Sometimes he didn’t and would let nature do what it wanted.

“What are we supposed to do with that?” he asked. “We can’t have a baby in here.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised this place hasn’t become overrun with desperate, pregnant women already,” I said. “Is there any way we can take medical advice as payment tonight?”

“Nah,” he said. “Be serious.”

“You’re running a business,” I said. “In a time of no jurisdiction. I’ve had to stop eight kidnapping attempts, and spearhead a safer self-defense workshop. I agree. Babies shouldn’t be here, but that’s about to change whether you like it or not.”

“Ask Joaquin,” he said. “Make him do it.”

“That guy is useless,” I said. “Which reminds me, that guy can’t be eating all that processed cheese. He’s going to wipe out the limited plumbing we do have.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” he asked.

“Burn all the dairy products,” I said. “Anything that still exists at this point is going to do nothing but damage to anyone, anyway.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” he snapped. “What about Maritza? We can’t have a baby here!” He lowered his voice. “Do you think we should have a baby raffle for our customers?”

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and he nodded in agreement.

“So you agree?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said. “Terrible idea.”

“Well, he can’t wait tables now, can he?”

“Look,” I said. “Rebecca was working as a nurse at the quarantine. And you’re telling me she knew absolutely nothing? She did give me a shot of something that surprisingly did not kill me.”

Maritza cried out in labor pains.

He shuddered at the sound. “Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t know a lot about her background.”

“You’re married to her,” I said. “You said you felt like you’d spent ten thousand dates with her.

“Marriage can mean anything these days. And I say a lot of things I don’t mean.”

As it turns out, Rebecca knew next to nothing about Maritza’s condition.

“Isn’t there someone else that can help?” Rebecca asked, emphatically shaking her head. “Babies are cute and all, but I can’t go in there.”

“Her water broke,” I said. “She needs help. You think I know what to do?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll cheer you on, though.”

I had Maritza sit on a checkout stand with a thermometer in her mouth while I dragged Rebecca out of the toy section to see her. When I returned Maritza was crying.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “How are you feeling?”

She squealed, and then gripped my arm with talon-like fingernails.

“I don’t know why you think I know anything,” she said. “All I ever did was be an assistant manager at Sephora. Then the Incident happened and I volunteered to assist the onsite quarantine doctor because I thought it was a good place to meet men. Which it was.”

I was incredulous. “Weren’t there any pregnant women in that quarantine?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t see them if there were.”

I sighed. “How do you feel?” I asked Maritza.

Maritza smiled despite being red faced and straining. “Well,” she gritted her teeth. “It really hurts and I feel like I’m straining to throw out a pot roast.”

Her words then merged into more screams.

She pointed to the lower part of her belly. “I thought I had more time!”

“You’re soooo lucky,” Rebecca said and hoisted herself onto the stand. “I’m dying for Robert and I to start a family. The birth process is so beautiful.”

I incredulously looked at her, which she happily gave me a dirty look. I cleared my throat, putting my hands on my hips to give the impression of being in charge.

“Can you at least give her some space?” I asked.

Reluctantly, they stepped back as Maritza gasped under pressure. Rebecca sulkily slid off the counter.

“Watch her,” I said. “I’ll be looking for help.”

Costco has a book section. I thought perhaps they might have a Birthing for Dummies title, but instead, all I found was different diet books, three of them written by Dr. Phil, several Finding Your Independence books and a multitude of cookbooks. Nothing about childbirth. The book section merged into the movie section, where my eyes stopped on a special anniversary edition of Gone with the Wind. Immediately, I heard one of the characters say, “Mamma says to put a knife under the pillow to cut the pain in two.”

I ran back to where Maritza was still parked, groaning and sweating, while Rebecca now had the thermometer in her mouth while the rest of the women gathered around the scene.

“Okay,” I said. “Now if I remember my movies correctly, we need some hot water and some sheets.”

“Aisle 23,” Rebecca said. “Maybe 24.”

“Can you get them?”

She rolled her eyes.

I leaned forward and jabbed her with my finger. “You’re going to help me or I sell private dances for you in exchange for superhero shirts.”

She grimaced, but moved toward Aisle 23. In the meantime, Maritza grabbed my hand and moaned even louder. The girls gathered closer, realizing what was going on.

“Anyone know anything about this?” I asked. “Anyone want to pitch in?”

They all shook their heads, but started to chatter about every birthing story they knew.

“My friend had a baby that was born C-section and couldn’t breathe at first. It’s fine now, though.”

“My cousin, Beth, took thirty-six hours to have her baby and then it came out black. Her husband is white so that was super awkward.”

“This one girl I knew in college didn’t even know she was pregnant. She went to the bathroom at a rest stop. Next thing you know, she’s got a baby and doesn’t even remember having sex to begin with.”

“Thanks, guys,” I said. “All of this is really helpful.”

Maritza was in full-blown pain. I tried to comfort her while she screamed and helped her breath, but there was very little I could do. Eventually Rebecca returned with the water and two sets of sheets tucked under her arm.

“What took you so long?” I asked. “She’s in a lot of pain.”

“Calm down,” she said. “Besides, I discovered a whole section back there with pens and stuff.”

“How would that be helpful?”

She pulled one out. “I can write down the baby’s measurements.”

She turned to Maritza. “How you doing, doll?”

“Make it stop,” Maritza said. “Make it stop!”

The women were still loudly talking over each other, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Robert slowly pass by, but then do a sharp u-turn back to the other side of the aisle.

“Hey!” I shouted.

The women immediately shut up.

“Maritza is having a baby and no one knows what they should do. If anyone has any helpful advice,” I emphasized the word “helpful,” “then I suggest you say it. Otherwise, we should probably try to keep her calm.”

One of the women raised her hand. “I heard that singing calms things down.”

“Then by all means,” I said.

I don’t know how they did it, but eventually the women decided on a song, TLC’s Waterfalls and sang the chorus about fifteen times. And it did calm Maritza down until her contractions kicked up again, and all I could think to do was instruct her to push.

“Don’t go chasing waterfalls,” they sang.

“Push, Maritza!” I said. “Push, push, push!”

The women turned into cheerleaders and started to chant. “Push, push, push!”

Three hours later, with twelve of us gathered around, I pulled Maritza’s baby boy out of her. He was a screamer, and we immediately wrapped him in a blanket, handing him off to his mother. At first, Martiza looked at it as if she held a swaddled bomb, but she slowly relaxed and beamed down at him. Unfortunately, all Rebecca could find was some gardening shears so we hacked at the umbilical cord until the kid was free.

Maritza was exhausted and the experience had drained her, so I let her pass out on that check stand while the rest of the women fawned over the baby. I was exhausted, so I collapsed onto the floor away from the mess.

Robert eventually came around to hold him. “What are we calling him?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “That should be the mother’s decision.”

He scowled slightly. “So we’re not calling him Robert Jr?”

“Ask her,” I said.

“I mean, the reason she’s here is because of me, so…”

Long story short, we called the baby Robert Jr.

The women and I were bonded now. Maritza’s birth episode drew us together, and finally, I was considered a hero, valued more than Robert the guru. I was a ringleader and giver of birth, now allowed to sit at the breakfast table, best of all, now my word meant more than Robert’s. Sort of like the time, years ago, when Robert’s assistant made a scene at the Christmas party and I drove her home. Two months later, I got negative comments on my performance reviews for having her being at my desk all the time.

One of the wives led a yoga session, which I was finally allowed to participate in, when Robert came and found me. He tapped me on the shoulder while I struggled to keep my balance during a warrior pose.

“Walk with me,” he said.

It took him a lap around the store to get his thoughts together. He frowned a lot while his open robe flared out, exposing everything.

“I have a dilemma,” he said. “And you need to make the decision on it.”

“Is it about that draft you’re undoubtedly feeling?” I asked and gestured toward his uncovered junk. “I can suggest a solution for that. Aisle 22?”

Robert waved it away. “No, no, no.”

“If this is about the smell coming from the far end of the store, I’m right there with you,” I said. “I’m not going to name names, but I will say I blame someone whose name rhymes with Joaquin.”

“Not that,” he said. “We’re running low on supplies.”

“Here?” I asked. “We just walked past an aisle that’s nothing but three-pound boxes of Splenda.”

“We can’t feed each other on Splenda and you know it,” he said. “Our customers are eating us out of house and home, and I suddenly realized it yesterday.”

“I was afraid of that,” I said. “I was trying to cut back by only offering customers Ritz crackers and hot mustard.”

“What about us?” he asked. “I’ve got a family to support now, but there’s too many of us. Is there another Costco or Sam’s that we can move our operation to?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Maybe way across town, but it’s probably been decimated, and the trip on foot there might kill us all at this point.”

“I expect you to think these things through,” Robert said angrily. “You’re my employee. What do I pay you for?”

“Well, for one thing, you don’t,” I said.

“Yes, I do!” he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly. “Shelter! Food! Wisdom! The point is do you think any of my wives would be open to the idea of moving to another roaming family in exchange for their supplies?”

I rubbed my head. “That’s a terrible idea,” I said. “And now you’re just talking about human trafficking. That’s just cruel.”

“Shelter and food!” he said. “Shelter and food! And it’s not cruel. You can’t argue with my generosity. Robert Jr is going to grow up and have all this to look after, and you better hope he keeps you on the payroll. Otherwise I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “And just like before, working for you now is just the same as working for you then—I’m just here until I can find something better.”

I stormed off, angry, although part of me was really hoping he’d follow me and apologize.

“So quit then!” he called out after me. “Just run away and quit! I’d like to see how well you do on your own.”

“Maybe I will!” I yelled. “At least I know to put on underwear every day!”

At this point, any self-respecting woman would have probably marched out and redeemed her independence in the wild, but the truth was, I was really scared to. I didn’t want to be out there. This new world frightened me with its new barbaric practices, and there was no telling what human-sized monster waited at the next mile to kill you or steal your Wheat Thins. So I stormed to the other side of the store, hoping that Robert would find me, apologize and tell me that I was the best employee he’d ever had. Instead, one of the girls came and found me while I was laying three shelves up in the electronics department, next to some Blu-ray players.

“Hey,” she said in her mousy voice. “The girls want you to know that some of us got a can of soup for lunch and some of us didn’t.”

“Take Joaquin’s,” I said.

Then Rebecca came and found me.

“Robert’s looking for you,” she snapped.

“Tell him I’m not here.”

She seemed confused, folded her arms and gave it some thought. “But you are here. Where would you go?”

“I just don’t want to talk—” I started. “Oh, forget it.”

I got out of my steel cubby and then followed her. She gave me a sidelong glare.

“I like you, which I didn’t want to do,” she said. “But don’t be Robert’s wife.”

I started to giggle like a fourteen year old. I don’t know why.

“Um,” I said. ”Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just,” she said. “We’ve been married for so long now—”

“Two months?” I asked. “Three weeks? A week and a half?”

“—and I see how he talks to you and how he looks at you. Like he genuinely likes you. He doesn’t come to me with things. He doesn’t complain about his other wives to me like he does you.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I said. “I’ll be here for a while.”

She took me to Robert’s office, which was a set of kids’ bunk beds. He now sat cross-legged on the top one.

“Join me, why don’t you?” He coldly patted the mattress space next to him.

I obeyed and climbed to the top.

“I’ve given it some thought,” Robert said after a long awkward silence. “And thought about what you said.”

“Look,” I said. “I’m sorry about what happened. I still don’t agree with you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work out a solution to our problem here.”

“Do you remember something you said to me at the Christmas party three years ago?”

I drew a blank. No, I didn’t, so I shook my head.

“You got upset with me because you had been trying to get a job somewhere else in the organization and had interviewed with Steve.”

I nodded. It was doing something I actually wanted, and I had interviewed with the head of the division about a job where I could’ve worked from home and always worn pajamas, only to realize that he was one of Robert’s golf buddies. At the time I thought I was smart and name dropped him, which turned out to be a huge mistake instead.

“You told Steve not to hire me because you were too lazy to hire someone else,” I said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. And you found out and told me that I should support you more in branching out.”

“And you told me a spider monkey with a short attention span could do my job.”

“Oh yeah.” He laughed. “God, I’m funny.”

He paused, still laughing, no doubt congratulating himself for such a great joke. He shook his head and held up a finger.

“Hold on,” he said. “The point is I have been holding you back.”

Joaquin entered the room with a piece of paper and handed it to Robert, who read it. He nodded, and Joaquin left.

“So I’m trading you to another family,” he said. “It’s sort of like this one. You’ll probably like it better.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re cutting corners everywhere,” Robert said. “We’re all making sacrifices, and your job seemed the most unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” I asked. “I do everything around here!”

“Maybe you can stay on for a couple extra days and train some of the girls in what you do?”

I tried to crawl with pride and dignity off that bunk bed. “Get bent,” I said angrily, swinging a leg onto the ladder. “You can’t treat this situation like a corporate round of layoffs.”

“I have to,” Robert said. “It’s all I know.”

Joaquin waited for me a few feet away. He grabbed my arm and ushered me to the front exit of Costco. The other women watched.

“You’re not leaving us, are you?” one of them asked.

“I’ll be back,” I said. “This place is going to fall apart without me.”

“But how will we find the lotion?”

CHAPTER 11

Karma is Always Just Around the Corner

JOAQUIN DROVE ME to a part of town that used to have this really great Italian place where Bruce took me on our first date. I remember the risotto was really good and the waiter was super cute and I had to tell myself to stop checking him out.

I allowed Joaquin to drive me away from Robert and the Costco because I was angry. Fine, I thought, as I sulked with my arms folded. Let him see what it’s like. Let him have the walls come down around him or his wives starve or worse, bitch at him because there’s no more peanut butter. Then we’ll see who’s holding who back.

“Joaquin?” I asked.

He said nothing.

“Who’s the worse boss you ever had?”

To my surprise, he actually gave thought to the question. “I used to work at that Costco,” he said. “My supervisor just rode my case nonstop.” He shook his head. “I remember this one time, I was taking classes at the community college and they scheduled me during a time where I had class and I had a test. I told them I couldn’t do it, and so my supervisor fired me.”

“That sucks,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “I told her to go fuck herself and left. Then I marched out to the parking lot and saw a giant mushroom cloud in the distance and knew that nothing I cared about mattered anymore.”

We pulled up at an abandoned gas station, where someone had sprayed Ezekiel 11:10 on the door. We sat in silence, and I felt a change of heart swirling in my veins.

“What if you took me back?” I asked. “Robert has flares of moods, but he never stays mad for long.”

“They said they’d be here about now,” he said, looking around.

“Come on, Joaquin,” I said. “We could just leave. Go have an adventure somewhere else. We could do fun things like pillage mansions or finding my family. You don’t have to work for Robert or anyone else if you don’t want to.”

He stared at me in heavy silence. It occurred to me that I might not be completely understanding of where he was coming from.

“Or we can find your family,” I said. “I’m not made of stone.”

“What, and hang with you?” he asked. “You, the girl who blamed me for every time the bathroom got backed up?”

“No, just every time you ate processed cheese,” I said. “It was deductive reasoning, which I may have been wrong. It’s happened and I apologize.”

“Screw you,” he said. “This is a world where I don’t need another woman telling me what I should or shouldn’t be eating. And if I die because I ate too much fried food, then hooray. At least I died doing something I loved.”

“Fried chicken?” I asked. “This is the flag you’re waving?

At that moment, a beat up van pulled up. On the side of the door read the words “Sunshine Hills Christian Church,” but when the door opened, two people stepped out who didn’t look like they had spent much time in worship. Their faces were covered by woolen ski masks and they carried large guns with them. They marched up to the Civic and banged on the doors.

“Get out,” Joaquin said.

I obeyed, emotionally shaken up. I opened the door and was immediately grabbed by one of the gunmen, who was about half an inch shorter than me and a bit on the stocky side. They looked me up and down.

“Hey, man,” he said to Joaquin. “She’s got on a UCLA shirt. How do we know that UCLA isn’t coming back for her?”

“UCLA is dead. Don’t worry about him. She’s yours now. You got her payment?”

The other gunman nodded and went back into the van while the one who held me grabbed my sweatshirt and went to pull it off, exposing my Batman shirt.

“Dude,” he said. “Does she belong to Batman too? I’ve heard that guy is nuts; kills anything that crosses his path. If they come looking for her—”

Joaquin raised an eye at me. “Did you belong to Batman?”

“That’s a real thing?” I asked. “That’s not really a thing, is it? I thought I made that up so UCLA would leave me alone.”

One gunman turned to the other. “Remember when we killed that UCLA guy?”

The other gunman nodded. “Yeah.”

“That guy just cried that Batman was coming for him. So pathetic.”

“I think that was before I got hired here,” said the shorter gunman.

“Eh,” he said. “Killing him was good, but not great.”

“Forget it,” Joaquin said. “She’s fine.”

The other gunman returned holding three dogs of mixed breeds on leashes I incredulously looked from them to Joaquin.

“Dogs?” I asked. “Robert traded me for dogs?”

The dogs were led into Joaquin’s Civic as the gunman went back into the van and reemerged this time holding cases of shampoo and conditioner.

“Come on,” the gunman said, pushing me to the van. “Darren Warren waits for no one.”

“Wait. What? I said. “Darren Warren? That guy?”

I was thrown into the van. The last glimpse I got Joaquin was trying to handle a corgi retriever mix while it barked and jumped up and down.

One gunman drove while the other sat next to me.

“Funny story,” I said casually. “I’ve actually met Darren Warren. He ate my ex-boyfriend. And it wasn’t that long ago.”

Neither of them seemed interested in hearing the remainder of that story, so we rode the rest of the way in silence. I stared out the window, alternating feelings between fear and hopelessness.

We drove to a house up in the hills that had been boarded up, like every other house so far, but this one was still in decent shape. When we arrived, the gunman escorted me inside into what was once a living room with a floral border print around the walls. The only piece of furniture was an overstuffed recliner with branches and twigs sticking out of it, making for somewhat of a weirdly makeshift throne.

My captors held me up as one of them stuck duct tape over my mouth. Darren entered, wearing a deep blue thick robe with a cute bulldog embroidered over the front pocket.

“And what have my friends brought me today?” he asked. “Is this the exchange we had prepared with my Costco warlord friend?”

I moved every muscle around my mouth to loosen the tape. Once I’d lifted it over my lips, I worked more frantically to tear it off until one side just hung off part of my cheek, gently tickling it.

“Robert’s a warlord?” I asked as I jerked my head to the side, hoping to get that piece of tape to fall off. “Someone get that put on his business card. Or better yet, update his LinkedIn profile.”

“He is a wise man,” he said. “He teaches that you motivate by lowering the bar of happiness.”

They shoved me forward as Darren stared me up and down. The tape fell off as I stepped forward and I accidently stepped on it.

“Well,” he said. “Someone’s beauty regiment doesn’t agree with an Apocalypse, now do they?” He laughed at his own joke. “Back when I wrote theater criticisms, I remember one actress, seven-year-old Abigail Williams, trying to play Annie, but her orphan exterior could never belie her spoiled twenty first century luxuries that she was used to.”

My foot stuck to the carpet as tape ground in deeper to the floor. I went to bend down, hoping to pick it off but one of Darren’s henchmen jerked me back up.

“You are just a fake orphan still expecting people to hand things out to you,” he said. “So you might wonder why I’ve been looking for you.”

“Mr. Warren?” I asked while pursing my stinging lips. “Perhaps you don’t remember, but when we met a few months ago, you ate my boyfriend. I just ask that you don’t eat me.”

He squinted as if trying to remember. “I do.” He smiled. “We don’t let those come and enjoy our community, then run away. So congratulations for getting around so much. Most people haven’t been so lucky.”

“You’ve moved up from a trailer,” I said nervously. “This seems nice.”

“Thank you,” he said, sighing heavily. “It hasn’t been easy. Good help is always so hard to find. We travel from place to place, sad quarantines, tenements, houses crammed with people with no way of surviving. I do those a favor because, what else are they going to do in this existence?”

He gestured to a group of people, mostly dirty-looking women who were crouched in the doorway, trying to get a good look at everything going on.

“Did I tell you to gawk and stare?” he shouted. “Go! Work! Earn your survival so I’m not tempted to serve as part of our Sunday feast!”

“Sunday feast?” I asked. “Should I assume that we’re all still really into eating people?”

“Like you’re going to trust what’s currently in the meat of cows and pigs,” he scoffed as he walked toward his chair. “So many chemicals nowadays. There were before, but you don’t know what surviving livestock has been eating or put through.”

I nodded. I smiled as I rolled my foot to the side finally dislodging that awful piece of duct tape. “I guess not.”

“You were brought here as an exchange,” he said. “Your old employer, Robert, was actually a friend of mine a long time ago and has kept in touch with me since the Incident. I may not remember your lover, but I remember you, Verdell.”

“And you know Robert.”

“Sure, we’re old college buddies,” he said. “He mentioned that you were looking for more challenging opportunities.”

“Did he now?”

He leaned forward and gestured for me to come closer. Which I did, realizing that I had no idea what was about to happen next.

“I run a well-formed machine,” he said. “I operate to the rhythms of the universe, which has no room for chaos. Should you choose to love me and pledge your devotion to me, I won’t reject it, but you’re going to have to make some serious sacrifices if you want the favor returned. Understand?”

I nodded, unsure of what else to do or say.

“Robert tells me you’re very talented at coordinating things. Like lunch meetings.”

I was a little offended. “That’s not my only talent. There was a time I could make it look like I’d done a lot of data entry.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “Not everyone can do that.” He waved me away. “Go join my other servants. Let them show you the ropes.”

I gingerly walked in the direction of his minions, who were clearly eavesdropping. “You’re not going to want to—”

I stammered the words to an awkward question.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Well, sometimes when warlords like a servant girl very much—”

He winced as if I had pitched him a musical retelling of The Dukes of Hazzard. “Please, you’re not my type or gender. Don’t flatter yourself.”

I nodded and made my hasty retreat to where the others waited.

Darren had a group of almost twenty working for him. They were all haggard-looking, but operated the house like some kind of hippie commune. Stepping forward, I recognized my old co-worker, Tatiana, who immediately took me aside as soon as I left Darren’s presence.

“You’re the new girl!” she breathily exclaimed. “I’m Starshine.”

“You’re Starshine?” I asked, shaking my head, pointing at myself. “No, you’re Tatiana. We used to work together! Remember?”

She nodded. “I had another name, but once the Incident happened, I realized I could be whoever I wanted. So now I’m Starshine. Also, our Lord kidnapped me and held me for four days in a dark room without water until I forgot everything.” She took a breath and smiled brightly while extending her hand out to me. “So I’m Starshine.”

“I’m Verdell,” I said, shaking her hand. “Just Verdell.”

“It’s so pleasant to meet you,” she said.

“But that’s the thing,” I said. “We’ve already met. You’re Tatiana, we used to hang out and make pros and cons lists. You like karaoke!”

She gave me a blank smile. “I’m Starshine.”

“Tatiana.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I just hated those dogs.”

She pulled me into the kitchen area where four other women waited. I scanned the group, but stopped at one of the women who looked incredibly familiar.

“Priscilla?” I asked. “Is that you?”

I knew it was Priscilla and this time I could remember her name. Her eyes flickered with some kind of recognition, but instead she shook her head.

“I am Mountain Spring,” she said in a hollow, lilting voice. “You are mistaken.”

Nope. I knew that was Priscilla. I remembered her name and was a little surprised that she was not dead. It did explain that hideous carved scar in her cheek and chest.

Tatiana put her arms around me and led me to the center of the room.

“This is Verdell,” she said with a touch of disdain in her lilting voice. “I know. It’s a terrible name, but she’s still very nice.”

I let that comment sink in for a moment, but she continued.

“You have joined our mighty huntress energy force,” she said. “We find food for our Lord that he may grow stronger and wiser every day.”

“What kind of food are we talking about?”

She released me with a huge smile. “Whatever he wants. Tigerlily over there can fill you in on what does and does not agree with his enlightened stomach.”

Tigerlily was a heavyset dark-haired girl who shyly waved at me. I waved back and smiled.

“You’ll be journeying with her today,” Starshine said.

“Our Lord desires spaghetti and meatballs,” Tigerlily said, matter-of-factly.

Tigerlily, myself and another woman who called herself Prairie Rose ventured down the hill and scouted other houses.

“You have to be carefully,” Tigerlily said as she loaded a gun. “The spirits are all around us. If we do not respect our life force, they will send us monsters that will either kill us, ravage us or worse—” She paused for dramatic effect. “Steal our Lord’s supper.”

“I can see where that would be truly horrifying,” I said dryly.

We walked maybe half a mile down and came across a ramshackle ranch-style home. “So now we have to travel lower and lower into town,” she said.

Despite her gentle demeanor, she broke open a window with her hands with a surprising amount of brute force. She smiled brightly.

“You first!” she sang.

“What if someone’s in there?” I asked.

“You’re our latest family member,” she said. “Now’s the time to prove if you are meant to stay with us.”

“And if I don’t?”

She shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to kill you. So go find out.”

Carefully, I climbed through the window and broken glass. The house was empty and had sustained a good amount of disaster-related damage. We crept through to the kitchen side of things and poked through all the cupboards. There were things like rice, rotting vegetables and cheese, salsa in a can, some tampons. I stashed those under my shirt while Tigerlily looked frantically from one cabinet to the other.

“There’s nothing here,” she said. “There’s nothing here!”

“Relax,” I said. “Rice, salsa, maybe we can just improvise something.”

“We. Do. Not. Improvise.”

Tigerlily’s face was tight and she talked through her teeth. “Our Lord wants spaghetti and meatballs and that’s what he’s getting!”

She clawed through the storage spaces and did manage to find an old bag of pasta, so that temporarily calmed her down. With nothing else to find, we hiked down to the next house, where once again she smashed a window and made me enter first.

“How long have you been with Darren?” I asked.

“Who?”

“Sorry – uh, our Lord.”

She beamed. “Almost a month. But it feels like forever. Just one big beautiful forever.”

I nodded. “I’ll bet.”

“And don’t try to talk to me about the way things used to be,” she said defensively. “I don’t care, I don’t remember and none of it is important now, anyway.”

“Deal,” I said as I opened a pantry door.

“Some people think it was so great back then, but it’s not,” she said. “We’re much better off now, and I’m so sick of having to defend what I was doing and how I got here. So don’t ask me about it.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

She stood in the middle of the kitchen now, breathing heavily. “My family told me to come home over six months ago and they even sent me money for it. And I didn’t, because no one ever thinks I can do anything on my own. But I can.”

“Of course,” I said. I pulled out a jar. “How does our Lord feel about Alfredo sauce?”

“He didn’t say,” she said. “I had the best job, working at the Circle K. I could drink Mountain Dew and watch TV all day and then my boyfriend asked me to start borrowing from the store, which I did, and then I got caught and fired. I was looking for a job, but no one wants to hire a high school dropout who got fired from the Circle K for stealing!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Didn’t you look into getting your GED?”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Right,” I said. “Sorry to pry.”

She hoisted herself up onto the counter and continued to talk.

“You know what really burns me, though?” she asked. “My sister thinks she’s so special because she got three kids and lives in Utah. What’s so special about that? She’s been engaged three times. Who fucking cares?”

I shrugged and kept zeroing in on what sat on the shelves. “There’s rolls down here, but they might be a little stale.”

“You keep looking and you keep looking now!” she said. Her crunchy hippie persona was long, long gone at this point.

Eventually, we made it back to the house with merely a half bag of pasta and a jar of Alfredo sauce to show for our efforts. I had, however, learned plenty about Tigerlily, despite her insistence that she had nothing to talk about and was an absolute closed book on the subject of her background. I learned she had a seven-year-old daughter she hadn’t seen in six years, and she was pretty proud of her job at Circle K.

“I used to deal drugs with my ex, but that was awful, so don’t ask me about.”

“Okay.”

“You meet a lot of bad people selling and buying drugs. I don’t want to talk about it, but this one time, this guy stole my Led Zeppelin sweatshirt and never gave it back.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Stop asking me about it!”

“Tigerlily,” I said. “How has Darren, I mean, our Lord, made things better? I watched him eat those closest to me. Although it’s good to see that Priscilla’s okay.”

“Who?”

“Mountain Spring. It just seems odd that no one is fazed by the fact that your Lord thinks eating people is fine.”

Tigerlily’s face turned an eerie calm and her voice became quiet and smooth. “He’s wonderful. He tells us stories, gives us important life lessons and provides us with food and shelter. He’s not only the leader of us but the rightful leader of the world. He’s currently writing a manifesto that will bring harmony to all nations.”

“Harmony being terrorizing small communities?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she was flippant. “He inspires us everyday to rebuild things better than the way we were given them.”

We walked up the road as I took in the various tributes to Darren along the way. His initials were carved out in trees and someone had tried to position rocks on the ground in the shape of his face.

“How do you know he’s not just using you?” I said.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“You know how people are given power and abuse it? There are some people who have no real interest in helping others.” I let my voice trail off. “You know what, it’ll probably be different for him. As long as he doesn’t promise to bring in a chosen baby or something.”

“He’s wants one!” she snapped. “He just needs to find the right mate and he will bear a Messiah.”

We were almost at the house now.

“So is this mate application still open for interviews or has he picked his candidate?”

Tigerlily grabbed the door and went to open it. “It’s going to be me. He just needs some convincing.”

“Good,” I said. “Because that’d just be embarrassing for him if he asked me.”

She pushed her way in ahead of me and let the door slam in my face.

Later that night dinner was served, Alfredo on pasta with meatballs, by a tense staff. I didn’t ask where the meatballs came from. I knew enough about this guy to know that one shouldn’t ask for fear of being nauseatingly disturbed. Meanwhile, someone served Darren his meal in the dining room while the rest of us stood at attention, our backs to the walls.

“What the hell is this!” he yelled. “This isn’t marinara! Who serves spaghetti and meatballs with Alfredo sauce? Are we all just going to live like animals from here on out?”

We were all awkwardly silent. I stared at the floor, but I knew everyone else stared at me.

“It doesn’t even look like Alfredo sauce. It looks like you warmed over whatever Antigone threw up before we gave her away!” He looked at us all. “I demand to know who’s responsible.”

Everyone stared at me, so I figured I’d spare us all the building awkwardness and stepped forward.

“That would be me,” I said. “I brought you this.”

“Why would you bring this to me?” he asked. “I have a mind that has carefully been honed and sharpened for a greater existence, and you give me swill only good for rustic hill people to sup on.”

“It was a mistake,” I said. Someone jabbed me in the side and muttered something unintelligible. “Won’t happen again.”

The person on the other side of me jabbed me on the other side and muttered something just as unintelligible. Meanwhile, Darren stared at me with steely eyes.

“But what about right now?” he asked. “What do I do with this?”

“Perhaps you’d like to wait for me to whip up something in the kitchen,” I said.

There was a collective groan from everyone in the room.

“I don’t know the rules here,” I muttered.

“You’re a silly girl, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “It’s tough times, and I didn’t ask to be here.”

There was a gasp that went up. Everyone stared at me with eyes wide in horror.

“Do you not want to be here?” he asked. “Is there somewhere better for you to go?”

“No,” I said. “This is fine for now. I’m not complaining.”

His nostrils flared, and all I wanted was to appease him so I wouldn’t die in some horrible way.

“For now?” he asked. “For now?” He stood, paced and then waved his arms around. “This is all there is forever. You are standing on the edge of evolution, and you treat it like the waiting room for some free clinic on the bad side of town. You’re a silly girl, and you have no allegiances to anything, which makes you half-dead already.” He pointed to his dinner in front of him. “I am going into the other room to work on my manifesto. When I come back, I need to have a better dinner in front of me, not this this peasant shit.”

He exited the room. The minute he was gone, the rest of his disciples fell over themselves to get the offending bowl out of the room. Starshine marched up into my face.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “He’s very angry with you, which means he’s going to punish you.”

Tigerlily started to cry, high-pitched sobs that the others tried to quiet by putting their hands over her face.

“It was her fault! He’s going to come after me, but it was all her fault! She wants us to fail! She wants us to fail! Probably works for Batman!”

“Who is this Batman? Can anyone answer that?” I shook my head at Tatiana. “We couldn’t find anything. I asked her what she thought and she just talked about working at the Circle K.”

“She doesn’t like talking about that. Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t—”

“She’s a crazy bitch!” Tigerlily yelled. “Throw her out! She’s garbage! She’s going to mess everything up!”

“Get her out of here!” Tatiana yelled with such force it startled everyone into submission.

She ushered me into another room where I could still hear Tigerlily’s hysterics.

“Listen to me, “Tatiana said. “There’s a lot of BS that goes on here, but if you want to save your life and not turn into a meatball slathered in Alfredo, you play by the rules, you talk the jargon and pretend like your drinking the Kool-Aid. I don’t know when this is all going to end, but at least you’ve got a support system that will protect you. So just follow my lead.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I saw him kill my boyfriend,” I said. “He ate him. He’s a monster.”

“Yes! We get it! You keep saying that over and over. You lost someone,” she said annoyed. “This is just the world we live in. Unless you’re willing to sacrifice your Judeo-Christian ethics, you’re going to be serving someone who does.”

“So this is where it all ends,” I said.

She shrugged. “Not a lot different from working at Mitchellwide, I’ll tell you that.”

She opened the door for me and made a gesture with her eyes.

“Let’s get this done, lovers!” she sang. ”Let us feed our Lord with the salt of the earth raised in holy unity with the food of the gods.”

As the door closed behind her, the rest of the followers made a unified “oooommmm” sound.

I don’t know what they served Darren, because I was locked in a broom closet, but what I can tell you is that it smelled delicious, which I hated myself for admitting. I knew full well it probably had a face, a name, a family and credit score at one time or the other.

He ate in silence and no one spoke for the duration, even when he got up to leave. I heard the chair scrape against the floor and the door shut. Then I heard dishes being cleared and footsteps approach the closet. I fully expected to see Tatiana, but instead it was one of the gunmen who’d brought me to the house in the first place.

“What’s happening—” I tried to speak, but instead I was just grabbed roughly and pushed into Darren’s presence.

We were in his library—and by library I mean a room that still had remnants of its former tenants. The wallpaper had baseballs and bats on it, there was a giant poster tacked up on the ceiling of a model in a bikini. I must have kept staring up at it because Darren cleared his throat at one point.

“It’s too high for anyone to get down,” he said. “You learn to ignore it.”

I nodded.

He sat at a desk, one that was small and clearly not made for adults. His chair was short and didn’t give him the authority he probably felt he should have, but I knew it was best not to bring it up.

“I took you in as a favor,” he said. “I believe in favors. I believe that in what you put in the universe comes back to you.”

I nodded.

“I also knew a woman’s loyalty and devotion is just as easily managed as a dog’s, but you have to acquire the right woman for that job. Your master assured me that you are easy to please and rarely put up a fight, so I was happy to take you in.”

“Damn you, Robert,” I muttered under my breath.

“Pardon?”

I furiously shook my head.

“I realize you are unfamiliar with the protocol that I lead my commune, so I will not dole out my usual punishment,” he said.

I nodded.

“But I will make sure you remember your mistakes,” he said.

He snapped his fingers, and his two gunmen grabbed and ushered me out of the room. The rest of the house watched as I was escorted out of the house and outside into the van.

“Guys,” I said. “Where are we going?”

They didn’t answer me, but they did drive me to a nearby park. There was still play equipment out, although badly damaged and hardly usable. From there, they dragged me to a tetherball pole, placed a collar and leash around my neck and tied me there.

“Wait, guys!” I said as I strained against the leash. “You can’t just leave me out here!”

Both gunmen walked away, but one of them stopped and watched me for a few moments. I reached out toward him.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I said. “I could just spend the night in the van. It’d be our little secret.”

The gunman stared at me, but was slowly following his coworker to the van. They got in, slammed the door and drove away. As if on cue, almost as if God wanted to reassure how much He hated mankind and this story being told, a storm of rain began to fall, light at first, then progressively heavier. It was miserable as I stood there cold.

I couldn’t even sit down. When the rain did stop, I became aware that there’d be roving gangs somewhere, just lurking around, waiting to take the middling healthy white girl away with them. I tried to loosen the collar, but it was locked with a heavy padlock, making the strain on my neck unbearable. I thought back to the day of that earthquake. Maybe I could have run, maybe I could have found my family and been a thousand miles away from here.

I don’t know what time it was or how much more time I had, but I heard an engine approach. I had been half-asleep at the time, but I was aware of it but then the sound of a car door shutting completely startled me. My neck was killing me as were my feet, so I tried to lean on the pole for some relief.

In the darkness, a figure walked toward me. I straightened to look, and the nearer they got the more I recognized one of the gunmen from the house.

“Is it time?” I asked. “Are you coming to take me back? Have I learned your lessons?”

The gunman didn’t say anything, but got really close in my face.

“Um, hello?” I said. “My neck hurts. I’m really tired. I’m pretty sure I’ve learned my lesson.”

He pulled off his mask, revealing a man with a heavily scarred face. It took me a moment, but I realized that this face belonged to Bruce.

I gasped.

“I thought you were dead,” I said. “How are you not dead?”

“Disappointed?” he asked, annoyed.

“No,” I said. “I thought for sure Darren ate you.”

“I told you,” he said. “I’ve got the networking gift. Once I told him that I was that guy who was in the Farnsworth Invention, he let me go. No thanks to you, of course. You just ran off and left me.”

“I didn’t want to stick around and watch you get eaten.”

“Well, now you get to sit and live with it.”

With that, he spun on his heels and walked away.

“Don’t go!” I said. “Don’t go!”

He raised a hand and gave me the finger.

At first, I thought I’d been left to die, but hours later, him and his coworker returned and set me free again. I didn’t say a word as I was exhausted and in so much pain from my head to my feet. So I let them carry me to the van, just letting all my body weight sag just to make it really difficult for them to toss me into the van.

When I returned to the house, I was ushered back into Darren’s presence where Tigerlily had beaten me there.

“She’s a monster!” she said. “I heard from Morning Spring that she killed two boyfriends and a house full of men. She will murder us all.”

Darren looked at me. “Are any of these allegations true?”

“I also heard she likes to steal rolls and medicine from children,” she said.

I was exhausted. I just wanted to lie down and sleep. Every step I took resulted in a thousand stabbing needles in my feet, which made it hard to stand. Bruce had to prop me up on his shoulder.

“First of all,” I said weakly. “No, it’s not true. Secondly, not true. And third and most importantly of all, it’s not true.”

“I have been a critic of the arts for many decades.” Darren folded his hands together. “And I have never seen sarcasm and cynicism so alive and well in an individual who has been through what you have.”

I halfheartedly managed a shrug with my other hand while I maintained balance on Bruce’s shoulder.

“I have to cope.” I coughed. “Something of my past life.”

“No!” he said. “You don’t. And don’t infect my other wives, either.”

“I’m not a wife?” I asked. “I don’t get the chance to reject you?”

Darren winced. “You’re not my type,” he said. “But you’re missing the point. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. We’re all monsters. I won’t judge as I have no room to.”

I nodded. I didn’t feel good at all.

Tigerlily angrily lunged for me, but Darren’s guards stopped her.

“She brings death on all of us!” she yelled. “She’ll kill me and then come for you!”

Darren shrugged. “So what do I do with you?”

“I’d like to lay down in a fetal position, please.” As I said that I looked outside. I don’t know why, maybe something caught my eye. It happened to be at the time I saw a gang of monsters, all with torches in their hands. Ordinarily, I’d be full of fear. This time I wasn’t scared.

* * *

Since I wasn’t one of Darren’s wives, I wasn’t allowed to have an actual bedroom to lie down in, but I was allowed to rest on a set of pillows in the broom closet for a few hours. I was fully prepared to enjoy it when Bruce came and ruined everything as usual.

He shook me awake. “Verdell?” he whispered.

I rolled over. “Just let me sleep. You and your new buddies can kill me in the morning.”

“You’re just jealous that I finally have a career and you don’t.”

“This is not a career,” I said, sitting up. “You are a lackey who doesn’t get to show his face.”

“Well, neither Darren nor I have any desire to marry you.”

“I don’t see anyone voting for you for homecoming queen, either.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “This is not the way to behave. We are both grown adults. One of us just hasn’t admitted that they were wrong yet.”

“Get bent and let me sleep.”

Bruce slammed the door in my face. I happily got comfortable again. In the distance I heard a far off explosion. I sat up, tense and at attention.

“What was that?” I heard Darren’s lilting voice ask.

“Nothing,” Bruce said.

“Well, keep it down. Trying to write a manifesto here.”

“Sorry.”

I repositioned myself for comfort until Bruce came back.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I broke up with you. I could easily kick you out of here.”

“Do it,” I said. “Or just ignore me. I don’t care.”

“Just acknowledge that you thought my acting was a joke.”

“It was. Now go.”

“You’re a bitch.” He shut the door.

I tried to get comfortable again over the outside voices.

I heard a man speak. “Who keeps slamming doors around here?”

“That was me,” said Bruce. “Sorry, I just let it go a little hard.”

“Knock it off, would you? Some of us are trying to create a new history.”

“You’re right. Won’t do it again.”

“Seriously.”

I closed my eyes again, but not before Bruce gently opened the door.

“You knew I was on the way up and you came here to ruin everything for me,” he said after the third time of bursting in on my nap. “I’m not going to let you do it. Darren trusts me far over you.”

I sat up. “Damn it, Bruce!” I said. “Quit being so insecure. I would have totally bought that you were someone to be intimidated by had you not opened your mouth and ruined everything. If I’ve learned anything about this Apocalypse, it’s that I wished I was part of the third that died. That way I would have never had to deal with you or the downward spiral of stupidity that’s happening constantly. Also, I would have never learned how undesirable I am. Seriously, no one wants to marry me? None of my family wants to find me?”

“Now who’s insecure?” Bruce asked. “I ought to carry you around the room and yell out every time you’ve embarrassed me in public.”

“What’s that going to prove?” I asked, my voice rising to a new volume. “That you’re whiny and can’t let anything go? Here’s something to hold on to then—you’re the biggest complainer the world’s ever seen. And no one cared about your play.”

He folded his arms. “Which one?”

“Any of them!” I shouted.

Just then there was a huge explosion. It rocked the house and sent the furniture rocking. I stepped out of the closet, my anger at him and every other man who had abandoned me along the way had made me feel.

“You’re all jerks,” I shouted as I tried to talk over the commotion of the panic that set in. “You just use me, then pass me on to someone else in exchange for something stupid. You may have escaped being eaten, but I had to move on to the next level of hell by myself because you couldn’t survive on your own.”

Another explosion and this one set a fire to the front entryway. Darren’s disciples gasped and pointed at me. One of the girls was almost hysterical

“Tigerlily was right!” she said. “This girl is a monster!”

Mountain Spring, also known as Priscilla, shook her head at me. “I knew,” she said. “I always know.”

“I know who you are, Priscilla,” I said. “I remember standing up for you. I could have taken the easy way out and just pledged allegiance to the weirdest war lord, but I didn’t. I hope you’re real proud of yourself. Frankly, I thought you were dead.”

Darren’s disciples bowed down before me.

“Please don’t hurt us,” they started to chant. “Please don’t hurt us.”

Even Bruce looked afraid. “I thought it was just a fluke,” he said. “But maybe you killed me, after all.”

“Do you hear yourself?” I asked.

Darren came out of his study. “Why the racket?” he asked. “My work is far more important than anything—” He stopped and noticed the entryway. “Someone want to explain why my house is on fire?”

A steady rise of hysterics rose through the house.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

Darren had wrapped his silken robe around himself and suddenly got a panicked look on his face as he turned around and raced upstairs. “My manifesto!” he exclaimed. “I can’t leave it behind.”

Bruce pointed a finger in my face. “This is your fault,” he said. “You’ve brought this onto us.”

“You brought it on yourself,” I said. “And they’ll be much worse if we don’t get out of here.”

The fire burned fast and spread into more rooms. I grabbed a hold of Tatiana and Prairie Rose, and we burst out the window together, rolling down the hill.

“This is still a great networking opportunity!” Bruce shouted over the flames. “I am making smart career moves!”

“Someone help me find my after dinner slippers!” Darren called out. “I have to pack my going away valise!”

It was chaos, and I didn’t see much through the billows of smoke. The fire raged out of control and took a few houses with it, including the commune, which I only spent a few short days in. But I know Bruce died inside in it. And the reason I know is because the next day we found two charred bodies. One sitting next to a child’s desk, the other holding the remnants of slippers. I don’t know what happened to the other gunman. Part of me likes to think he ran off into the woods and found freedom, sitting in a cave naked somewhere, drawing pictures of Bruce’s stupid face.

As for myself, Tatiana and Prairie Rose, we ventured down the hill and watched the house go down. Neither of them wanted to save it, and I think Tatiana got real pleasure from watching it burn.

She had a huge smile on her face. “Thank god I won’t have to spend another night with that guy. I’m sure our child would have been allergic to everything. That’s not the Messiah I’m going to vote for.”

We spent the night curled under a bush and shivered in the cold, but in the morning, there was group of ferocious-looking women who had us cornered. All but their leader wore ski masks.

“Rise and shine, monsters!” the leader said. “The fire didn’t get you, but we finally did.”

CHAPTER 12

No (Wo)Man is an Island

WE WERE BLINDFOLDED and taken somewhere on the outskirts of town to some ramshackle ranch that hadn’t been kept up in years. The ride was bumpy and cold as we sat in the back of a pickup truck that barreled down the highway. Prairie Rose cried the entire time, yelling Darren’s name. Tatiana was like a rock. I stayed silent as did Tatiana. I felt her lack of emotion, which seemed like the best line of defense, especially in light of Prairie Rose’s hysterics.

“Before anything gets weird or tragic,” I heard Tatiana yell over the high-speed wind. “You should know my real name is Tatiana. I know I used to have a dog and before the Incident I was in school part time getting my accounting degree and I really hated my supervisor.” I heard a rustling coming from the side. “I know you can’t see it, but I’m holding a piece of paper. It’s one of our pros and cons lists. It’s the one where you were on the fence on Bruce.”

“Really?” I asked. “You still have that?”

“Um,” she said. “I did. It just blew out of my hand.”

I smiled. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“My name is Mary,” I heard Prairie Rose choke out. “I used to have three dogs that our Lord gave away. People used to call me Brittany. Our Lord never said he loved me.”

“It’s not important now,” Tatiana said.

“How is it you’re Mary, but also Brittany?” I asked. “I’m a little confused.”

“I like fruit on the bottom yogurt,” she said. “I liked the upstairs closet of the Lord’s house where I used to sleep.”

“You’ll have to find another closet to enjoy sleeping in,” Tatiana said. “If I could hand you a self-help book or one of those mantra tapes I would, but it’s not going to happen, so I suggest you just up and deal now.”

Brittany, aka Mary aka Prairie Rose, continued to sob.

“Hey, Verdell,” Tatiana said. “In case this is the last time we ever have human contact before we get impaled by something from everyday life. I don’t think you and I ever really connected.”

“Tatiana,” I said as I carefully thought through my words as I spoke them into darkness. “You know me. Maybe we never talked about our hopes and dreams, but you know me. We worked at a large corporation, doing nothing important, and I isolated myself from every worthwhile relationship possible, but making pros and cons lists and making fun of people like Robert and our supervisors with you was the highlight of my day.” I took a deep breath. “And here we are, the end of the world, and I have nothing to show for it.”

There was a silence before Brittany started sobbing all over again. “Maybe our Lord will be okay. And then he’ll come and live with us and we’ll be a happy family again, putting us all to work.”

“For the love of everything,” Tatiana said. “Keep some control over that kind of crap. You’ve been brainwashed. I don’t know where we’re going, but at least we’re somewhat free from that egomaniac.”

“It’s true,” I said. “If I’m learning anything about this journey, it’s that every new place is just an opportunity to be stronger.”

“I know you broke one of the gunmen down,” she said. “I know you were incredibly patient with the world’s most annoying person—”

“Tigerlily?”

“Robert.”

“Ah, yes,” I said. “He’s really not that bad.”

I felt a twinge of heartstrings that made me realized I missed him.

“Totally,” she said. “And think about it, Darren didn’t want to touch you, but he wanted you in his house. Do you know how jealous I am of that?”

“This whole Apocalypse,” I shouted over the loud passing air. “Not one man wanted me. Not even two ex-boyfriends, not the four nerds looking online for girls, not the strip club I managed and not the crazed art critic looking to birth the Messiah. It’s a little disheartening.”

“Well, to each his own then,” Tatiana said.

We rode in silence before a harsh truth overcame me.

“I don’t have any friends,” I said.

“Excuse me?” Tatiana asked.

“Friends,” I said. “I thought I had some before the whole world fell apart, but it turns out I don’t. You would think that in all this suffering and learning to survive I would have bonded with at least one person…”

“Not true,” she said. “We were friends. Why would you say that?”

“You didn’t remember me.” I let my voice trail off. “And now I’ve made myself incredibly sad.”

“I’m sorry,” Tatiana said. “I was worried you’d get killed. There’s also a possibility that I may have been brainwashed. Distancing yourself isn’t always the best option.”

Suddenly, the blindfold was jerked off my face and Tatiana gave me a kind, sympathetic smile.

”I worked my hands free,” she said as she showed me. “Your story isn’t over. It’s just beginning in fact. I don’t know where we’re headed, but I feel pretty confident in calling you my friend.”

I smiled back at her.

“And you can’t tell me in all this time you’ve spent glomming off others, you haven’t formed at least one bond?” she asked. “Someone out there you kind of miss?”

Robert, I thought. Kind of miss that guy.

“Maybe,” I said. “I’ll get back to you.”

“I get it,” she said. “You join up with one group and don’t know if they’re going to be dead in the morning, if they’re going to trade you in for a box of Pop-Tarts or if you’re going to have to chase after another group because Jon Hamm is leading it.”

She folded her hands and looked out into the horizon. “Don’t beat yourself up because there’s a lot of shallow soil out there.”

Once at the ranch, we were pulled out of the truck and dragged inside, then plopped down onto the gritty floor with the blindfolds ripped off our faces. I looked around the room and saw a rustic-looking living room with an old threadbare and stained couch that looked like it used to be white. We finally got a good look at our captors, and I realized they were just four women, one of them being Rachel, two of them girls from Costco.

“How did?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

Rachel smiled. “Batman came and bought a ticket, but she didn’t want a show.”

She nodded and opened her eyes wide. “She wanted us to join her cool club for awesome people.”

I gasped. “Batman’s here?” I asked. “I’m going to finally figure out what the hell everyone’s been talking about. I didn’t make her up, did I?”

“You got her,” said a woman lounging on a broken-down leather recliner. She wore all black, had a cool leather patch over one eye and seemed bored by everything going on around her.

“You seem so familiar that this is crazy,” I said. “I wore a Batman shirt once and everyone went nuts talking about you.”

She shrugged. “Well, of course. You broke into my car and stole my Wheat Thins.”

I snapped my fingers. “Yes! Of course! Stephanie, was it?”

“It’s Batman.”

“So what do you all do here?” Tatiana asked. “Are we an official thing? Do we have a purpose?”

Stephanie held up her hand.

“And what’s with the patch?” I said. “Did something happen?”

“You’re not going to do something weird with our bodies are you?” Tatiana asked, her voice soft and halting.

Stephanie shifted the eye patch so it so it covered more of her eye. “Do you think it looks better on the right or left side?” she said, turning her head. “I feel like it’s a little bit more badass on the right side.”

“Your confidence pulls it off,” I said. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“We’re still working on a name,” Stephanie said as she stood and stepped forward. She was tall, wore leather and scratched her eye under the patch. “So if you think of anything, let us know.”

“We’re bringing chaos to the Apocalypse, yo!” one of the other girls yelled. She did a weird jiggly dance that I found awkward and smacked of trying too hard.

I shook my head a little as did the rest of the gang.

“Not now, JB,” said Batman. “Although I liked your passion.”

JB sat on the floor with the rest of us.

Stephanie pointed at me. “You’re that fire girl,” she said. “The one who kills men who betray her and harasses little kids.”

“For the last time,” I said, annoyed. “I haven’t killed anyone. Any death that happened around me was purely coincidental. And that kid was stealing from me. Standing up for yourself is apparently a one-way ticket to rumors town.”

“I wouldn’t be so modest,” Tatiana said. “She blew up the house that held our Lord Darren Warren and all his disciples.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Stephanie said. “I’m not criticizing you at all. The very opposite.” The tribe cheered, and Stephanie slapped me on the back hard. “That was us,” she said. “So let’s not get too braggy.”

“No worries,” I said. “I had no intention. That’s really not me. Secondly, I don’t agree with this kind of behavior.”

Brittany started to gently sob.

Stephanie knelt next to me and stared at me hard with her one eye. “At least you recognize. And what kind of behavior?”

“Arson,” I said. “It’s kind of violent.”

She stared at me in uncomfortable silence.

“It’s just not my kind of thing,” I said. “But that’s just me. Judeo Christian ethics and all.” I waved away my own awkwardness. “You probably have some well researched reasoning, though…”

“If there’s a better way to make a point, I’d like to hear it,” Stephanie said. “Look at what we can do with few. Now with all of us we can take care of any force that comes against us.”

“Stephanie—” I started.

“Batman.”

“And we’re sticking with the name Batman?” I asked.

She unzipped her leather jacket and revealed a Batman t-shirt.

She shook her head. “It’s just good branding. And I know—I was in marketing before the Incident.”

“Didn’t I give you that name?” I asked. “That night when your UCLA buddy was going to kill me over a box of Wheat Thins.”

“Ideas belong to everybody,” she snapped

Tatiana and I nodded simultaneously. “Smart,” I said, hoping to appease her.

Stephanie’s face instantly brightened as her mood changed. She stretched out her hand. “We’ve been looking for you. We’re mighty impressed with your portfolio, ma’am.”

I sighed heavily. “You should know I haven’t actually killed anyone,” I said. “If there is one thing in this new society, I’m thankful I do not have to explain this in a court of law right now.”

She crouched to my level. “You think we like it when people assume that when we start fires and burn places down that we’re just out to kill them too?” She stopped and thought about what she said. “Now that I say that out loud, I can kind of see where they might get that impression.”

“Do you?” I asked.

She nodded. “The point is, that’s not what we’re about at all. We’re just trying to rescue women in bad situations. We’re trying to teach others survival skills. Like, real survival skills. What we’ve been ingrained with is absolutely useless.”

Everyone nodded.

“Like, why am I monitoring my credit score when I should learn how to build a canoe?” she asked. “Or do my own dentistry?”

JB stepped forward. “I can say that those two years at the Fashion Institute did come in handy. Because I made everyone’s uniforms.”

“So what’s your real name again?” Rachel asked.

“Stephanie,” I said.

“Batman,” said our new leader.

“No,” I said. “She meant your actual name.”

“I knew what she meant.” The leader’s face grew very serious. “It’s Batman.”

“Before the Incident.”

Stephanie shrugged. “I’m giving a very clear and concise answer.”

I nodded. “We’ll just call you Batman then.”

Tatiana gave me a look. Brittany’s tears had dried and she looked at her as if one would watch a big sister get ready for the prom.

“I think she’s wonderful,” she whispered into my ear.

“Of course you do,” I said.

“Where are we? Didn’t you used to have a dog?” I asked.

Stephanie and her minions took us on a tour around the ranch and its grounds. It was dilapidated, but the plumbing still worked, albeit flakey, and there was a pretty friendly dog that let me pet it. Its tail slowly wagged when I scratched behind his ears. It was such a simple joy, but something I missed, and I felt an outpouring of love for that dog. I bent down after we were shown the weapons underground cellar and scratched all over his body. One of the girls stopped and watched it.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter to you,” she said. “But that dog has some kind of skin virus. We don’t allow it inside.”

I stood. “Good to know.”

I immediately went to the nearest sink and scrubbed my hands for a good ten minutes fully enjoying the fact I could wash them.

The grounds themselves were pretty desolate and I saw a few obscene things spray painted around, but overall, it was nice. JB mentioned that it happened to have once housed a serial killer commune at one point, but she wasn’t one hundred percent sure on that.

I passed by the bathroom and went to use it, but JB stopped me.

“You don’t want to use that,” she said. “It doesn’t work.”

“So what are we doing?”

JB smiled with hesitancy. “Do you know what composting is?” She pointed outside.

I took a deep breath. “Oh, I don’t…I don’t know…”

“Guess you’re just going to have to learn!” she chirped.

I took another glance through the window and saw odd spray painted symbols.

“JB,” I said. “What’s the deal with that weird graffiti?”

She seemed uncomfortable. “Before the Incident, this was the hideout for the Paper Tiger Gang.”

“Isn’t that that cult that was trying to build a spaceship out of other people’s house pets?”

She seemed uneasy. “We don’t like to talk about it.”

With that she walked away.

I toyed with getting confirmation on that urban legend, but in the argument for sleeping at night, I decided against it. It was away from the city, and it didn’t seem as if I had to fear of those roving gangs, given that I had been accepted into one that was just misunderstood.

At night, we gathered in the main room of the house. There was a broken down couch with one good cushion and an old Navajo blanket, so we took turns all sitting on them for comfort. It felt civilized so I didn’t mind so much. Getting splinters and tiny rocks in my backside didn’t seem so bad knowing that my turn with the cushion and blanket were always coming.

“You know,” I said. “It occurred to me that maybe if I give those closest to me a better goodbye, I’ll be able to face the future more grounded.”

“It’s an interesting idea,” Rachel said. “So many people I wish I could have said goodbye to, even though I don’t like thinking we’ll never see them again.”

We organized a mass funeral. We stuck sticks in the ground and wrote names corresponding to those we had lost. I made one for Jake, two for my parents and one for Bruce. We stood in a circle and each of us spoke of a memory of those being laid to rest. It came to my turn, and with hesitancy, I stepped forward.

I heavily cleared my throat. “Jake,” I said. “You had a heart so big that too many tried to fit inside and broke it for good.”

“What does that mean?” JB muttered.

I gave her the side eye and continued. “Bruce,” I said. “You had a passion for something, which I mocked. Not that you were a lousy smug actor, but because you truly loved something, which if that could be formulated, well, would probably make the world better. Or something.”

Brittany shook her head.

“Look, I’m not very good at speeches,” I said defensively. “Now if I may continue.” I took a deep breath. “Mom and Dad,” I said. “I’m sorry we didn’t get along. I thought your wine and cheese gallery shows were silly, which I still stand by, but at least you tried to bring beauty into this world. I’m sorry you were embarrassed that I followed a boy to the opposite coast who thought a writing career was really going to pan out instead of a better dream that would have made you proud.”

It was a lot of words that seemed to fall out of my mouth. I let them just float there in the air for a moment. Stephanie opened hers, but I realized I wasn’t done yet. So I held up my hand.

“One more thing,” I said.

“Jeez,” Stephanie muttered. I ignored that.

“I’d like to apologize for my half-hearted attempts at survival and helping others,” I said. “All I’ve done is tag along with others and let decisions be made for me. Frankly, I’m lucky to be alive with that kind of attitude.”

“Is that it?” Stephanie asked.

I thought about it. “I guess so.”

I stepped back into the group as Stephanie stepped forward. She shook her head.

“Good thing that wasn’t the last speech of the night,” she said.

* * *

I had been there for about a week when Stephanie gathered us up and told us of another mission—there were three women they wanted to rescue out of a commune that had formed in the abandoned Costco that I left Robert in.

“The strip club isn’t there anymore?” I asked.

Stephanie shook her head. “Our scouts say that once they ran out of peanut butter and Wheat Thins, the business just fell apart. It got ransacked, and the women there are just living in fear. There’s even a baby.”

I nodded. “Poor Robert Jr.,” I said. “I’m in. What’s the plan?”

Stephanie gestured me over while drawing a rough sketch of the Costco property. “You have to help me on this one because I know you were there. What’s the leader like?”

I sighed. “Be easy on him,” I said. “He’s probably just as confused as the rest of them. He can get overexcited and he likes risk management a lot.”

“Agreed,” she said. “But I’m putting you in charge of him when we bring him back. He’ll have to do whatever you say or you can throw him out.”

I nodded. “Maybe it won’t be that harsh, but I think we can pull it off.”

Rachel raised her hand. “We should come up with a survival guide,” she said. “We can’t take every girl in, but maybe if we can give as many tools as we can, we can bond even stronger or at least give us better chances at survival.”

Everyone liked that, and I volunteered to put it together.

“Great, “Stephanie said. “You do that. Rachel, JB, Brittany, let’s go blow up a Costco.”

“Do we have to blow it up?” I asked. “Seems a little extreme.”

“No one listens to you until you’re blowing something up,” she said. “Watch a movie.”

“Not every movie,” I said. “I don’t think any of that happened in Juno.”

She folded her arms. “Just for that, you get to stay here and write the rule book.”

I watched them leave. Rachel shrugged at me and mouthed the words, I’m sorry.

* * *

They returned early the next morning and only brought back Robert. I was sitting on the floor looking at maps of the southern California water lines, when there was a bang at the door. He wore a pillowcase over his head and his hands were bound. JB and Rachel dragged him in with confused looks on their faces. His feet dragged against the floor as he made a kind of whimper sound.

“What’d you do to him?” I asked. “What happened to everyone else?”

“He was by himself,” Rachel said. “He insisted on the head covering and that we tie him up. He wants us to know that he’s very bad—” She sighed heavily, then winced uncomfortably. “And wants to be punished.”

Batman entered, looking tired and annoyed. “He begged us to bring him back with us. I wanted to leave him, but I guess we don’t always get what we want.”

Robert stood helplessly still.

“He can stay for a little while, right?” I said. “Maybe earn his keep? Car repairs or something?”

Robert snorted under his pillowcase.

Batman rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t get to sleep on the furniture. And if he has a mother to look for, we only go find her after we’ve found all of ours first.”

“Deal,” I said.

“Whatever it is,” he said. “I’ll face up to what I’ve done. Just FYI, I have very tender nipple buds so you should probably start there first.”

Batman and Rachel rolled their eyes.

“I’m out of here,” Batman said, marching outside. Rachel followed. JB eyed him curiously and crept up to him. She inhaled deeply.

“What are you doing?” I said.

She shook her head. “Just been a long time since I’ve been around a man. I wondered if they still smelled the same.”

She held her hand up lingering over his chest, but didn’t touch him. She exhaled with choppy giggly breaths. “Don’t know what’s coming over me.”

“I do,” Robert said, his voice a little muffled. “Go where your heart tells you darling.”

She leaned in but I jumped up and held her back. I didn’t want to know where this was going.

“JB,” I said. “Maybe this can wait for another time.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I just wasn’t ready. Someday I will be again.”

“Of course.”

She skittered out of the room. I ripped off the pillowcase. He looked with excitement at first, but then his face registered that it was me standing in front of him.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s you. I should have known that the one funsucker left would follow me wherever I went.”

“What are you so bummed about?” I asked. “Did you have an application in to a better gang?”

He shrugged looked around. “No one’s wearing anything skimpy. Thought maybe you guys wanted to get some aggression out, but I see you’ve put a stop to that. ”

His voice just sort of trailed off. I rolled my eyes.

“No one’s going to make you stay.”

“Fine,” he said heavily. “That Costco’s a dump, everyone left and I lost everything, including my risk management book, so might as well. Get me out of this.”

He held up his wrists. Begrudgingly, I picked up a nearby pair of scissors and cut him out of it. He put his hands in his pockets and took everything in.

“You guys renting this place or…”

“Let me show you where your room is,” I said.

I took him to my bedroom and gestured to a blanket on the floor and his little makeshift desk.

“As of right now, you work for me,” I said. “And we have work to do.”

“I need guidance from somewhere,” he said weakly. “I feel lost without the guidance of my book.”

He stared off into the landscape which was dusty and barren. His face had changed so much from when all of this started. He had aged but his mouth trembled like a scared little boy.

“You don’t need that book,” I said, tenderly touching his arm, at a loss for how distraught and helpless he looked. “You have the answers now. So now you can help guide us.”

He processed what I said and it seemed to give him a license to some joy. He then took in the cracked and crumbling walls, the burned carpet and my sadly dirty yet superior bed to his own.

“My wives left me,” he said. “Rebecca ran away with that girl who had a baby and said something about how the world doesn’t need men anymore. They called themselves Women Who Run With The Wolves or something like that.”

“And do what?”

He shrugged. “Interior design maybe? I don’t know.”

He sat on my bed. “I don’t know where they’re going to get the start up. It’s a down market for home improvement, I think.”

He cleared his throat. “So what’s on the list of things to do?”

“We’re going to go out and find our families,” I said confidently, thinking he’d respond to the humanity of it.

Instead he shrugged. “I was hoping you were going to say pillow fights or mud wrestling.”

I withdrew, annoyed.

“Really?”

His face brightened up. “Kidding. Honestly. I’m looking forwards to knowing what priorities actually are.”

I stared down at him, his sadness and loneliness practically sliding off his dirty clothes and onto my rumpled bed.

“Robert,” I said.

He held up his hand. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll work for you, but no overtime, and if you think I’m going to bring you guys lunch, you can just forget it.”

I sat on a cinder block across from him.

“I’m going to interview you,” I said. “Now, where do you see yourself in five years?”

“That’s funny.” He smiled. I handed him some paper.

“So you want to know how to find people?” he said. “Fight weird losers who worship cartoon characters?”

“Not exactly,” I said, brushing off the comment. “We’re writing a survival guide.”

He looked at the paper and frowned. “The Girls Guide to the Apocalypse?” he asked. “What about my needs? Where’s the guide being marketed to my demographic?”

“We’ll add a chapter about strip club management if you want,” I said. “But for now, just write down what I say.”

He shrugged and held the pen over paper. I saw Rachel and Brittany hovering nearby, peeking through the doorway. I cleared my throat. Brittany scampered away like a skittish deer but Rachel leaned herself up against the doorframe.

“Chapter one,” I said. “I think we should talk about finding a water source. Remember how important that was at that one house?”

He squinted his eyes. I could see he was thinking hard. “Was it? I seem to remember finally having to use those conflict resolution skills HR was always bugging me about.”

I thought back to everything that had happened and didn’t know how we were going to fit everything in all at once.

He shook his head. “Nope, I’ve got it,” he said. “Being flexible to change. That’s what you should start with.”

I nodded, and he happily scribbled it down. Rachel gave me a thumbs-up as I cleared my throat and started to dictate.

“Chapter one,” I said.

Robert wrote a few letters and sighed. “Oh, that reminds me. You wouldn’t happen to know a Marilyn Sonobe, would you?”

I froze at the sound of my mother’s name. “What about her?”

He shrugged casually. “She came in looking for work, but I didn’t have anything. So I sent her out north where they’ve got that Sam’s Club being run by that group that calls themselves Soldiers of Anthrax.”

I stood up, fear and horror washing over me.

“Sonobe,” he said. “Not a common name. I immediately thought of you.”

I ripped the paper out of his hands. “We have to go. Right now.”

He folded his arms. “We write your guide,” he said defiantly. “Then we go.”

I shoved the paper at him. “Write fast, you jerk.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks go to my Mom. Not only has she been a source of encouragement and support, but she’s the one who instilled my love of story and writing to begin with.

Thanks to those of my closest friends who are always willing to listen, give notes and patiently nod to every story idea I have – no matter how bonkers or ill advised it may seem.

Finally, thanks to my wonderful team at Booktrope, Kellie, Briana, Marisa and Greg. Without them, this book would probably be sitting in a dark drawer somewhere.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Daphne Lamb was raised in Colorado but now calls Los Angeles home where she writes and performs comedy. She lives in an apartment building that also houses a few D-list celebrities who will not allow her to hang out with them. She loves bad movies, science fiction and looks forwards to someday owning a cat.

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Discover more books and learn about our new approach to publishing at www.booktrope.com.

Copyright

Booktrope Editions

Seattle WA 2015

Copyright 2015 Daphne Lamb

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

Inquiries about additional permissions should be directed to: info@booktrope.com

Cover Design by Greg Simanson

Edited by Briana Lambert

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

Print ISBN 978-1-5137-0118-9

EPUB ISBN 978-1-5137-0139-4

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912188

Content

Daphne Lamb
THE GIRL’S GUIDE TO THE APOCALYPSE

CHAPTER 1 Be Flexible to Change

CHAPTER 2 Wants vs Needs

CHAPTER 3 East is Where the Sun Sets

CHAPTER 4 Find a Water Source

CHAPTER 5 Know Your Surroundings

CHAPTER 6 Humanity is a Two-Way Street

CHAPTER 7 There is No Peace on Earth

CHAPTER 8 Prioritizing Can Hurt

CHAPTER 9 Physical Fitness is More Than a School Elective

CHAPTER 10 No Matter How Small, You Still Have Skills – Use Them

CHAPTER 11 Karma is Always Just Around the Corner

CHAPTER 12 No (Wo)Man is an Island

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MORE GREAT READS FROM BOOKTROPE

Copyright