San Antonio, page 7
He took his time gently cleaning her scrapes and patching up her leg, then he looked up and said, “Something else is bothering you. What is it people say? Sharing is good for the soul?”
Carla shrugged, “I keep thinking about that old woman we saw. The way she spoke. She’s given up on the whole idea of humanity, only trying to survive just for the sake of surviving.”
“And that scares you? All the crap we’ve witnessed over the last month, and you’re worried about some gun-toting granny?”
“No… not really.” She stared off into the darkness before continuing. “I’m worried how far off I am from taking that same mindset.”
Joshua took her hands in his and spoke gently, but firmly. “You listen to me now, Carla Garcia. You are one of the best people I have ever met. And life has dealt you a shitty hand. What with your parents, your sister, your grandmother. You’ve had every reason to just give up, look out for number one. Granted, your taste in men could be a bit better… but you’ve got a good heart. And I don’t think you’re in any danger of losing it.”
“But…” she began.
“No buts,” he interrupted. “You had to do something awful, something not so different from that woman tonight. It sucks balls, but you were placed in a no-win situation, and your actions haven’t been heartless. You are still beating yourself up over it.”
He patted her leg and had her get comfortable. “Carla, the world is the world. It’s going to take people like you for us to even have a chance of making it. Don’t forget that—and don’t try and change.”
Carla smiled. He always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better. His friendship meant the world to her. Carson kept her on edge, alert, thrilled, happy. But with Joshua… he made her feel safe, like it was safe to want things in life, to know that life was something to be enjoyed and to not be fearful of losing it.
Josh kept vigil at the window until he saw the flickering glow of the mob moving away in the distance. That sense of safety and joy sustained her as they played with a deck of cards that he had pulled out. They played into the early hours of the morning until finally, Carla’s resilience had worn out, and she fell asleep on his couch.
She awoke with a start the next morning, a blanket draped over her. Her thoughts immediately went to Meredith and Maria, wondering what could have happened to them in the time she had been gone. Throwing off the blanket, not even waiting to see if Joshua was awake, she hobbled outside, grabbed the bike, and began painfully pedaling for home, worried about what awaited her.
Chapter Seven
Carla pedaled fiercely, her injuries screaming against the strain as she pushed further and further away from the consequences of her moment of selfishness. She cursed herself for leaving Meredith and Maria to their own devices, knowing all too well that without her, the family might fall apart, crumbling like a sandcastle in the rising tide. With each pedal stroke, her resolve hardened; she had to get back to them. She just couldn't take chances with the world the way it was now.
Yes, she’d shirked her responsibilities. All for a few hours of peace with her friend. It had been a rough week, and sure, she might have deserved it, but if anything had happened, she’d never forgive herself. Her nervousness increased as she neared her street. Dawn was just breaking as she topped the hill near her home, and her world came crashing down.
“No!”
The house was gone, only a crater left in its place. Smoke was rising from the recent wreckage. Carla fell to her knees in despair, knowing that she had failed both her sister and her grandmother. She didn’t even have time to acknowledge the mob behind her before they set upon her…
Carla woke to the sound of screaming. But it wasn’t hers. She was sitting upright in her own bed, safe in her own home. She had come home earlier but then fallen right back to sleep. It had been an awful dream. A cruel prank of her subconscious punishing her for those few hours of levity before coming home in the wee hours before dawn.
So why did the screaming still persist?
Carla reached under her pillow and grabbed her gun. She followed the directions of the screams, down the corridor towards…
…Meredith’s door.
Outside the door, Carla sighed, no longer feeling the need for alarm. This was becoming a recurring part of their lives, more and more frequently.
She twisted the doorknob, taking care to safety the handgun and slip it into her waistband before entering. Meredith sat up in bed, her pajamas soaked in sweat, her face in her hands as though shielding her eyes would block out whatever monsters were coming to get her. The sight crushed Carla. How did a person deal with anything when their own mind could do this to them?
“Hey, hey, hey,” whispered Carla, sitting down on her sister’s bed, wrapping her arms around her and trying to pull her into a hug. But Meredith resisted and began screeching again, at which point Carla gripped her younger sister by her shoulders and forced Meredith to meet her gaze. “Meredith, it’s me. It’s only me. Whatever you think is happening, it isn’t! I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Sudden recognition seemed to blossom over the girl’s face like sunshine, and then came the tears. She cried into Carla’s chest and hugged her sister tightly as though she was afraid that if she let go, she might lose her forever. Meredith's face was a mask of horror.
She didn’t need to ask Meredith what the nightmares were. Most often, it was the same thing. Mom and Dad going off on that boat and not coming back, and Meredith feeling powerless to stop what was going to happen to them.
“It was my fault,” sobbed Meredith. “If I had tried harder to stop them, they’d still be here.”
“No,” insisted Carla. “There was nothing that you could have done. What happened happened, do you understand?”
“I miss them, Carla,” Meredith whispered, much softer. “God, I miss them so much.”
“So do I, Meredith,” said Carla. “So do I. You know that it’s just a dream, it’s not real, don’t you, Meredith? I know it feels all scary, but it’s really not real, nothing more than your brain dredging up fears from your past.”
“Yes, it is,” protested Meredith. She dried her eyes on the sleeve of her gown. “I think that’s why I keep going back to that day. I was supposed to do something different. I was supposed to save them and...and I failed. What’s the use of having this gift if I can’t change anything?”
Carla held her close. Sometimes that was all you could do for a person.
“I don’t just see it happen; I feel it happen. I feel myself…” she gripped her chest tightly. “…coming to terms with what has happened. I’m going to have to pay for failing them…I just know it!”
“Meredith, listen to me. I’m here, Maria is here. We’ve all paid enough. I’m here. I will always be here to protect you.” Her sister shook her head knowingly.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Meredith said in a tone so low Carla had to lean in close. “You never have! You’re always on the outside looking in!”
“Meredith… you’re twenty-four now,” said Carla gently. “How long are you going to let these dark thoughts ruin your life?”
In truth, Meredith had tried to block them out at first. She pretended it was just her mind playing tricks on her. But as they grew in intensity and became more frequent, she just couldn’t deny them any longer. At seventeen, she realized that these crazy visions weren’t going away any time soon. They were a part of her now. She was going to have to live with them for the rest of her life. Strangely, much of the time now, it didn’t even feel like her life she was living. She certainly wasn’t the one in control. Maybe that’s what being crazy always felt like.
Carla looked at the end of the bed and saw a ratty stuffed animal that their dad had gotten Meredith when she was a little girl. Even going into adulthood, Meredith had treasured the toy hippo. Her sister held it out to her. Meredith took the toy and slowly brought it to her chest, hugging it as though it were the lone source of comfort in her life.
“Why do you do it?” asked Carla.
“Do what?”
Carla knew this wasn’t a good time for this talk, but she also knew that when Meredith’s mind was set on something, there was no deterring it. She may not be able to dispel Meredith’s belief in these premonitions, but she could at least try and see her point of view. “Why do you try and tell everyone’s future?”
Meredith sniffed and looked up at Carla with wide eyes. “I couldn’t save Mom and Dad,” she said. “But I can at least try and help other people. Isn’t that what we do? We try and help people? You do it all the time.”
Carla couldn’t help but smile. Even in her own bizarre way, the fact that Meredith was trying to emulate her filled Carla with a sense of pride. She always worried about never doing anything right with Meredith. So, it was nice to know that her efforts weren’t going totally unnoticed.
The older sister had often wondered what kind of life Meredith would have without her. She certainly couldn’t take care of herself, which meant that Carla would have to find a way to include her in all of her future life. How would that work out? Her dreams of getting married, becoming a writer, maybe even children.
Who was she kidding? Out there were the ruins of San Antonio, they didn’t have food to last the week. She feared none of them had any future to look forward to.
But Carla could never let her sister down. She felt the weight of responsibility from being a guardian, but yes, there were times she found herself thinking what life would be like without her sister. They weren't cruel thoughts, but as siblings had done for eternity, sometimes they just wanted to be alone. Truthfully, she needed her sister as much as Meredith needed her. For she hadn’t worked out who she would be if she didn’t have Meredith in her life. Carla, too, shared the pain, guilt, and loss from that awful day years earlier, she simply dealt with it differently.
She held her sister close and began humming a song that their mother used to sing to help calm her down. Somewhere in the melody, Carla, too, could feel that soothing pull as though her mother was there in spirit, reassuring her that she was doing all right. She, too, understood how real the ghost of their parents could be. Unlike Meredith, though, Carla wasn’t haunted by the past as much as she was the present.
Chapter Eight
Carla headed to the food bank early the very next day, unaccompanied. She chose not to wait for Carson, unwilling to confront Chelsea’s piercing gaze on her return. Her recent encounter with the unruly rioters had also spurred her determination to acquire as much food and supplies as she could.
Unfortunately, the scene that awaited her at the food bank replaced thoughts of food with confusion and fear. Two large security officers stood vigil outside the entrance. Normally, the place had one security person inside. Only in the early days had there needed to be outside guards as well. “What’s going on, guys?”
“Hold on,” the guard snapped, the curtness of his words earning a stern glance from his partner.
She was obviously authorized, she had on the shirt and the sidearm. Rather than get into it with these two, Carla pushed on past. As she moved toward the door, both men promptly blocked her path. “Is this some kind of joke?” she asked.
The guards remained still as stone, unwavering. “Due to recent thefts,” the less tight-lipped of the two began, “we’ve had to heighten our security measures.”
The phrase was well-rehearsed and probably repeated every few minutes.
“I get that,” Carla replied. “I come here each week. This is the food bank for my sector. Why this sudden uptick in security?”
“A casualty was found nearby a few days ago,” the amiable guard admitted, after a moment’s hesitation. His eyes cut to the nearby storefront.
Carla surmised it must have been Jenny Harris.
He then sternly added, “From now on, only those with valid clearance are allowed beyond this point.”
“So, what does everyone else do?" Carla asked. As bad as it was, this place fed hundreds of families.
“Can’t answer that,” the larger man said curtly.
“I do have my official ID,” Carla said. “Would that be sufficient?” She pulled her SmartComm from her pocket, thumbed it over to her badge, its screen flashing her photo along with the designation CIVIL PATROL OFFICER, L2 CLEARANCE.
The guards exchanged a brief, but uncertain glance before relenting. “Alright, proceed. But be quick.”
Carla stepped inside as they held the doors open for her. The guards’ gazes bore into her back.
The manager was new, a gruff woman, also in uniform, and awaited her just inside. “You’re a patrol officer?” she asked, eyeing Carla from head to toe.
“Indeed. For now, at least,” Carla responded, growing increasingly impatient.
“And your clearance level?”
“Level 2. What’s with all this? I’ve never had to go through this much crap before.”
With a curt nod, the manager instructed, “New rules. Just follow me. I’ll show you to the reserved section for patrol officers.”
Carla followed her through the maze of empty shelving units. The supply rooms had been rearranged since her last visit.
“You have credits?”
“Yes,” Carla answered.
“Understand that all city resources are scarce. We have had to prioritize certain individuals for allocation.” Her face impassive, the manager led the way, not sparing a backward glance at Carla, treating her with a dismissive air.
“You mean the mayor’s lackeys?” Carla interjected, alluding to the rumors that anyone who pledged loyalty to San Antonio's interim mayor enjoyed special privileges.
The manager responded with a rude sound. “I can neither confirm nor deny the allocation of resources is based on anything but need. Also, you may want to watch how you speak in public.”
“This is America, I can say what I want.”
The woman spun on her heels. “No...it was America. Now it is whatever they say it is. Our illustrious new mayor is making the rules now. No one else—you get that?”
Carla nodded blankly; things really were getting more desperate for everyone. At the back of the store, the manager inserted a key in the lock and opened a door. She swept the light switch, illuminating the small room.
“You can’t be serious,” Carla protested, staring at the nearly bare shelves. Other than a few cans of tuna, an expired box of dehydrated fruit, and a few cartons of strange snack chips, there was little else.
“This is what we have,” the manager said, unfazed. “Take it or leave it.”
“But wait,” Carla protested. “I have been serving as a patrol officer. Just days ago, I prevented a theft. Doesn’t that merit something?”
“Oh?” The manager’s interest piqued momentarily. Carla anticipated recognition, only to be met with, “So you’re the one who left that mess for us? Do you know how bad that body smelled?”
“I protected the store’s inventory from being stolen,” Carla asserted, agitated. “Surely, that counts for something?”
The manager exhaled a resigned sigh. “Show me your credits.” Carla held out her hand with her token rings. The manager ran the hand-held scanner over them, then checked the numbers. “Fine. I’ll rummage through our special reserves. But remember, this is a one-time exception.”
“This one time?” Carla echoed, disbelief tinging her words. “I have a family to feed!”
“Join the crowd!” the manager replied in a tone of defeat. “There’s a long line of desperate souls out there. You aren’t special, sweetie."
“When do you think we can expect government supplies?”
“The government?” the manager scoffed. “There’s no governing left. I told you, Mayor Cleveland is it. Even if there was anyone else higher up, they’ve abandoned us. There will be no replenishment of stock. You have this chance to get a bit more up because you are doing your part, and ok, maybe you helped deter that thief. But remember, it won’t make a difference to me whether you leave with or without supplies. We’re all in the same predicament. This is what I have today. Tomorrow, it will be even less.”
Carla was speechless. “What are we supposed to do in the future?”
“Are you a religious person?” the manager asked after a thoughtful pause.
“Not particularly.”
“Perhaps it’s time to start praying,” she suggested.
Carla carried the cardboard box back home, having loaded it up with as many items as she could before leaving the food bank for what she presumed would be the last time. She used one hand to try and keep the box steady and the other to hold onto her pistol in case anyone tried to jump her.
She couldn’t believe this. Everything she had done. All the struggles she had made, the lines she’d had to cross. And now she wouldn’t be able to even feed her family. She knew they’d have to ration the food, try and make it last. It was a question of how long they could do so before they ran out.
Chapter Nine
“You're kidding...right? This is the best you could do?"
Carla had been briefly tempted to take everything and hide it for herself and her family. Carson, on the other hand, had a wife and children, too, and some of those credits she’d used were his. She knew she would be unable to look him in the eyes if any of them went hungry. Carla’s remorse after sleeping with a married man was making her overcompensate. Now, despite his wife, she desperately needed to ‘do the right thing.’
“Don’t get me wrong: I appreciate you doing this,” Carson said. “I wish you’d let me go with you, but I get it. Chelsea was always the frugal one, making sure we always at least had the basics, but I don’t think she would be so thoughtful toward you.”
“Can’t say I blame her,” Carla remarked.
“You do realize you can’t give this to everyone?” Carson stated. “I mean...I really appreciate you doing it for us, but if you’re right, and they’re almost out...what then?”
