by David Lucin
“We’ll get things back in order,” Gary said. “From what Liam said, things are already coming together. Just a matter of time before we get some solar panels up and running. And like I said last night, the government will be here to help in no time.”
Jenn laid her hand on Sam’s and shook her head while mouthing let it go. Gary and Sam had already spent more time together in the past twelve hours than in the past two months combined. Some action at Carla’s and a little manual labor had elevated the testosterone levels to beyond Jenn’s comfort level. Luckily, they only had to walk to the university now, not all the way back to the Ruiz house.
Sam ignored Jenn’s plea for him to stop. “I wouldn’t count on that. The government couldn’t even keep the price of food from shooting up. I’m not confident they’ll manage this any better.”
Jenn’s stomach tightened as she thought back to the last argument between Sam and Gary. This discussion was veering into similar territory. Chewing her cheek, she awaited Gary’s response, but it never came. He turned right off Leroux without arguing Sam’s point. Anticipating a follow-up from Sam, she drew his attention with a poke to his ribs, then pinched her thumb and index finger together and ran them across her lips like a zipper, signaling for him to keep quiet.
He huffed but did as she asked.
The next fifteen minutes passed in silence, but the air between Sam and Gary remained thick with tension. Jenn didn’t dare speak, fearing she’d inadvertently trigger another blowout.
Soon, Emerald City loomed ahead, signaling their arrival on campus.
Sam cleared his throat. “We’re almost—”
The woop woop of sirens cut him off.
“Shit,” Jenn cursed. She turned to see a squad car buzz up behind them, its lights alternating red and blue. “The fuck is this?”
“Stay calm,” Gary said. “We haven’t done anything wrong. Do what they say.”
“Then why the hell are they stopping us?” Jenn barked.
Sam set the wheelbarrow down and backed away. “For starters, we’re pushing a wheelbarrow down the middle of the road.”
“And?” Jenn asked. “We paid for everything in it.”
“And I’m carrying a gun,” Gary said.
That didn’t seem like a problem to Jenn. Gary knew everyone in town, especially the police. For years he volunteered with them by taking calls, consulting, and helping train the younger officers. Jenn assumed Gary knew every police officer in town. “You’re buddies with everyone,” she said. “It’s fine.”
“Not everyone. Just the old guys and Liam.”
The passenger side door on the squad car popped open, followed by the driver’s side. The passenger, a young man with a round face and buzzed hair, stepped out and stood behind the open door. Jenn recognized the driver by her ponytail—the same officer from Minute Tire. Why couldn’t Liam have stopped them instead?
Gary lifted his hands above his waist, inspiring Jenn to do the same.
“Keep those hands up and stay where you are,” the woman commanded.
“Officers,” Gary said. “I need to tell you I’m armed. A handgun in my belt. Right side.”
The female officer nodded to her colleague, who popped out from behind the passenger door and made his way forward, his gun drawn. He looked no older than thirty.
“Everyone,” the woman said, “lock your fingers behind your heads and drop to your knees—slowly.”
Really? Was this necessary? Gary had already forfeited his gun. Why would he try anything after that? Jenn hesitated for a moment, but Gary complied. His hands on his head, he lowered himself down. Sam, having left the wheelbarrow behind, did the same, so Jenn reluctantly followed suit, exaggerating the shake of her head enough to communicate her frustration.
The male officer approached Gary as the woman stepped forward. Except for the dark bags under her eyes, her face was pale. She had her gun drawn now, too. Jenn read the names embroidered on their shirts: Officer Ross, the woman, and Officer Leroi, the man.
“Sir,” Ross said to Gary, “please remain still while we disarm you.”
Frozen, Gary remained silent while Leroi reached for his waist, confiscated his Glock, and then patted his belt line and ankles in search of another weapon.
“Here it is,” Leroi said, presenting Gary’s gun to Ross.
“Check the others,” she commanded.
Leroi went to Sam first. A small part of Jenn took offense that Sam looked more dangerous than her. Still, she didn’t think any of this was necessary. Why hadn’t Gary told him who he was or that Liam lived down the street or that they watched baseball together on the weekends?
“He’s clear,” Leroi said after patting down Sam. Then he came over to Jenn and did the same. “So is she.”
“Okay, folks,” Ross said, lowering her gun. “You can get up. But keep those hands where I can see them.”
Jenn stayed down until Gary made the first move. He planted one foot, braced himself on his knee, and pushed himself up with a wince. “I hope everything’s in order, officers,” he started. “We’re only trying to get home.”
Ross sauntered over. “Can I see some ID, sir? And a permit for your firearm.”
“No problem.” Gary reached back for his wallet, pulled out his driver’s license and a second plastic card, and handed them to Ross.
She held them close to her face and squinted. “Okay, Mr . . . Ruiz. Can I ask what you have in the wheelbarrow?”
“Oxygen compressor and some batteries, ma’am. For my wife.”
She leaned in and ran her fingers along one of the batteries. “I’m surprised you found someone open. You go to Carla’s place?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you paid for this?”
“We did.”
“Cash?”
“No, ma’am,” Gary said. “I gave her my car as collateral.”
Ross bit her lip. “Unless you have a receipt,” she said, “I can’t let you go with these.”
“What?” Jenn blurted out. She tried to stop herself, to let Gary handle the situation, but the words exploded from her throat. “The power’s down. How the hell are we supposed to get a receipt?”
Gary lifted his arm to hold Jenn back. “Sorry, officers,” he said. “We don’t have one, but if you speak with Carla, she’ll tell you we’re all squared away.”
Ross adjusted her belt and eyed the wheelbarrow again. She wasn’t considering if Gary had told the truth, Jenn realized; she was deciding what to do with them and the compressor. “Okay,” she said. “You can go, but you’ll have to leave these with us until we can corroborate your story.”
“Screw that,” Jenn said. “This is bullshit.”
“Jenn!” Gary placed himself between her and Ross. “Relax.”
“How can I relax when we’re basically getting robbed?” she said, staring past Gary and straight at Ross.
Ross raised a finger and stuck it at Jenn. “Shut her up or we’re taking her in.”
Sam made a move toward Jenn, but Leroi stiff-armed his chest, holding him back.
“Jenn,” Gary said softly. “Take it easy. It’s fine.”
“No.” She jerked backward, free from his grasp. “We bought this—for way more than it’s worth. Go ask Carla!” she said, waving toward downtown.
Ross raised her gun and pointed it at Jenn and Gary. A show of force. Nothing more. No way she’d shoot Jenn in the middle of the street, not over this. Jenn would make her understand. Gary just needed to get out of the way.
“Jenn,” he said again, putting a hand on each of her shoulders. “It’s alright. Let me handle this.”
Her fists clenched and her cheeks hot, Jenn closed her eyes and inhaled a lungful of Flagstaff’s crisp air. She’d felt this way last night at Minute Tire, when she’d given in to her frustration and acted on impulse, but what had that accomplished? Sophie had a gun, yes, but Jenn never suspected she’d use it. These cops probably wouldn’t, either, but the stakes were higher no
w. Unlike at the shop, Jenn had something to lose now. If she kept pressing, she’d only agitate these officers further, increasing the chances they’d take the compressor and batteries out of pure spite.
She relaxed her hand and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking at Gary and pretending she meant the words solely for him.
Gary gave Jenn a wink. “Sorry about that, officers. It’s been a tough day and we’re all a little strung out. I’m sure you can understand.”
Ross nodded but didn’t respond. Leroi had put himself between Sam and the wheelbarrow.
“Listen,” Gary said, his arms open. “I’m neighbors with Officer Kipling. Liam Kipling. He lives just down the street from me. And I’m good friends with your lieutenant, Bill McLeod. If you radio him, I’m sure he’ll be happy to vouch for me.”
Ross lowered her gun. “How do you know the LT?”
Gary put his hands on his hips. “Bill and I worked patrol together down in Phoenix. Believe it or not, I showed him a thing or two back in the day.”
Arching an eyebrow, Ross seemed to consider that but didn’t appear satisfied. “If you know the lieutenant,” she started, “what’s his wife’s name?”
Gary smiled. “You mean was his wife’s name. And I assume you mean the most recent wife, the one he had up here. It’s Brenda. They’ve been divorced for three”—Gary counted out the fingers on his right hand—“no, four years now. She moved back east two summers ago.”
After exchanging a quick glance with Leroi, Ross holstered her weapon. “Fine, but—”
Her radio crackled to life. She leaned in and pinched the black speaker mic clipped to her shirt. “Unit two-one-five. Go ahead.”
Jenn struggled to make out the voice. It came through muffled in static and sounded like a different language comprising alphanumeric codes and unintelligible jargon. The only words she clearly made out were “go” and “market.”
“Ten-four. We’re on our way,” Ross said into the radio before bringing her attention back to Gary. “You’re in luck, Mr. Ruiz.” She returned his driver’s license and carry permit. Then, with a nod, she signaled for Leroi to pass Gary his gun. “I’m going to let you go with a warning this time. But there’s been reports of looting around town, so I’m asking you to head home and stay indoors.” She made her way past and toward the squad car, then paused and looked back, making sure to give Jenn the stink eye in the process. “And I’ll be asking Bill about you. Liam, too.”
14
Officers Ross and Leroi piled into the squad car and drove off.
“What the hell was that?” Jenn asked.
Gary tucked his Glock into the back of his pants. “What do you mean?”
“I thought for sure they were taking us in. Then, all of a sudden, they get a radio call and leave us alone? I mean, you were getting through to them with that talk about your buddy Bill, but this was too easy.”
“Bigger fish to fry,” Gary said, moving toward the wheelbarrow.
Jenn had heard the words “go” and “market” but understood little else of the police lingo. “Bigger fish being the Go Market?” she said.
“That’s what it sounded like.”
“Care to elaborate?” Jenn asked, blowing a strand of hair off her lips. “You’re a cop. You must have understood that pig Latin on the radio. What’s the deal?”
Gary gripped his belt and adjusted his pants, then inspected the palms and backs of his hands before answering. “All available officers are being called to both Go Markets. Crowd control, from the sounds of it.”
“Crowd control?” Sam said. “Those places have their own security.”
“Must be big crowds, then,” Gary said, gripping the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushing forward. Sam fell in line behind him.
Jenn didn’t move. In her mind, she inventoried all the supplies at the Ruiz house: a box of stale crackers, a half bag of frozen corn, a quarter loaf of bread, some potatoes, an onion, a few packages of instant oatmeal, and two or three of those vacuum-sealed pre-made dinners. They ate the last of the soy bacon yesterday morning and the rest of the soup last night. By Jenn’s estimate, that much wouldn’t last them more than a couple of days. She couldn’t take Sam and find her parents in Phoenix while leaving Gary and Maria with nothing. They’d settled the issue of Maria’s oxygen for the time being, sure, but that wasn’t much help if they ran out of food.
Sam stopped. “Jenn, you coming?”
“We need to get food.”
Sam arched an eyebrow. “Come again?”
“Shit’s hitting the fan,” she said. “We need to be ready.”
Gary paused and dropped the wheelbarrow. “You’re not considering the Go Market, are you?”
“You said so yourself, Gary,” Jenn said. “Big crowds. And there’s been looting. If the Go Markets and whatever else get picked clean, we’re screwed.”
“That won’t happen,” Gary said, stepping toward Jenn. “The police will keep things under control. What we need to do now is—”
“How much food do you have?” Jenn asked.
His mustache twitched. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get home and wait. Help is on the way.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sam said between bites of his fingernail.
Gary sucked in a deep breath and looped his thumbs into his belt. “No, the government will—”
Sam snorted, drawing a glare from Gary. “This is bigger than Flagstaff,” he said, straightening his back and pulling his fingers from his mouth. “Like we said last night, if Phoenix was attacked, that means a dozen other cities were probably attacked, too.”
Gary undid the top button of his polo shirt. “Not necessarily. Hiroshima and Nagasaki weren’t the biggest and most important cities in Japan. By that logic, America should have attacked Tokyo first, but we didn’t. It could be something similar here.”
“No,” Jenn said. “Sam’s right. This is totally different. It doesn’t make sense. Fuckin’ Phoenix? Really? Why just Phoenix? Why some shitty city in the middle of the desert? A dump like Phoenix being attacked means everywhere was attacked. Every city in the country could be gone. Maybe every city in China, too. And Europe. You think China would attack Phoenix and not London or Paris or Berlin? No way. If we got hit, all those places got hit, too. And if they hit us, we probably hit them back. We’re talking about a full-on nuclear war here and—”
“Stop,” Gary said, raising a hand. “Stop. I get it. I do.” His chin fell. “It’s just . . . It’s hard to think about. Things were going so well for us. The war was almost over.”
Jenn put a hand on Gary’s arm. “I know,” she said softly. “But that’s probably why this happened. It’s like cornering a wild animal. They’ll lash out if you get too close.”
She looked to Sam, who returned to whittling his nails.
“Mr. Ruiz,” he said between bites, “we have to be honest with ourselves right now. This is the biggest attack on this country ever. By far. The government’s going to have its hands full. Major cities need all the help they can get right now. It might be a while before they can get to us up here.”
“He’s right,” Jenn said. “We’re on our own. At least for a bit.”
Gary cleared his throat. Jenn had never seen him this emotional. To her, Gary was a model of stability. He always kept calm and level-headed, no matter the situation. Last year, when Jenn tried fixing the clog in the kitchen sink by taking apart the drain trap but spilled water all over the floor, Gary lectured her, of course, but he never raised his voice. Seeing Gary now, avoiding eye contact, fiddling with his shirt, and refusing to acknowledge reality, worried Jenn. Ironic, she thought, that only yesterday Gary talked sense into Liam’s wife, Erin, like Jenn talked to Gary now.
She put a hand on his arm again. “All we’re saying is that we need to prepare for the worst.”
Gary lifted his head. “What are you saying?”
“We should go to the Go Market,” Jenn said. “Wait there and see, j
ust in case. They weren’t open yesterday and obviously still aren’t, but if there’s enough pressure on them from the cops and everyone else, they might.”
“And if they don’t?” Gary asked. “If people start looting, are you saying you’ll join in?”
Jenn didn’t want to say yes, but she had to. She hated the companies that stood between her and a stocked cupboard. Three years ago, the government tried to impose price controls and rationing so everyone received their fair share. But these companies lobbied against that plan and had Congress scrap it, so now most food cost ten times as much as it did before the war—if the stores stocked it at all. Fresh fruit cost a fortune, and Jenn hadn’t had real meat in three weeks or tasted real coffee in over a year. No, the Go Market wasn’t the victim here. She was. The Ruiz family was. Corporate greed had transformed America into a powder keg. People had grown restless and pissed off, and if everyone had decided to finally take their share, Jenn sure as shit would, too.
But she understood Gary’s hesitation. He’d spent much of his working life as a police officer and, to Jenn’s knowledge, had never broken the law. He always drove the Kia five miles under the speed limit. He composted and recycled. He paid for parking. Hell, he even used the crosswalk instead of jaywalking. Asking Gary to steal was like asking Jenn to stop swearing: even if he wanted to, he never could. Something in his DNA forbade it.
But Jenn could steal. And Sam, too. They had to—if it came to that.
“Yes,” she said. “If things go to hell, we can’t miss out. I know it’s hard for you, harder than for us, but we don’t have a choice.”
“Go back home,” Sam said.
Jenn twisted her neck to lock eyes with Sam. “What?”
“Mr. Ruiz,” he started, “you can drive my car and take it back to your place. Me and Jenn will check things out at the Go Market. You don’t have to come.”
“That’s right,” Jenn agreed. “Sam and I can scope it out.”
