A Beginning at the End

by Mike Chen

  “I drew a map to get from home to Los... Los... Angels.”

  “Los Angeles?” California’s largest Metro was also an absolute mess of broken infrastructure and bickering politicians, and their Residence Licenses were even more expensive than San Francisco. Krista seriously questioned the teacher’s choice in crafting this map example.

  “Yeah. You turn left from our house, then take the second right and stay there to Van Ness...” Krista tuned out as Sunny spouted out detailed instructions on getting down to the City of Angels; she figured the teacher probably didn’t mention the large stretch of wasteland or the looter gangs that controlled the remains of Fresno or the theme-park turf wars. Last she’d heard, the SeaWorld ruins were a battleground for the Connis and Enzor gangs. “Can I ask you something?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not an expert at maps.”

  “It’s not about maps. It’s about Daddy.” Sunny stepped forward, and she offered as much seriousness as a seven-year-old could muster. “He’s sad a lot. You’re his friend. How can we fix that?”

  More fixing things. Rob definitely passed this idea forward. “He needs to get laid.” The words came out before Krista’s brain-to-mouth filter could catch it, and her cheeks burned with a fast flush.

  “What’s laid?”

  Sunny’s question showed that at least Rob kept his language clean, so that scored one point on the parenting meter. “I mean, your dad is very tired. Being a single parent is difficult.” Krista tapped into her inner kid-logic translator. “Not that it’s your fault. I just mean that, you know, he could use a little more sleep. He’s busy at work.”

  “Do you work with him?”

  Krista’s conversations with ring bearers and flower girls usually didn’t contain this level of inquisition. “Me? No, see, I don’t work with him, but one of my clients does. I plan weddings and I was visiting her.” She opted out to leave the other side gigs she’d taken on to try to maintain her Residence License: Reunion Services agent, elevator therapist, pretend babysitter.

  Peak social normalcy.

  “Oh.” Sunny adjusted her backpack, then shuffled her feet as she grimaced in contemplation. “Did you plan the wedding for my mommy and daddy?”

  Shit. How was she supposed to know that telling Sunny about her job would bring up Rob’s dead wife? Krista’s teeth clenched behind her forced smile. “No, I didn’t. That was before I met your dad.”

  “Daddy once showed me pictures of their wedding. It looked fun. And Mommy was pretty in them. He says they’re very special and we have to keep them safe.”

  “Weddings are usually pretty fun. That’s why people have them.” There. A nice, simple, very clean answer that followed Rob’s weird rule and didn’t mention Elena, either by name or implication.

  “I liked seeing Daddy so happy. And I think Mommy wants him to be happy. He’s sad without her. But when I ask him he says it’s not that and he won’t say what.”

  “Right. Um, I’m guessing she would want him to be happy. But, uh, maybe you should try to help him do things that would make him happy.” The half statement, half question worked to dance around Sunny’s Elena comment.

  “See, look.” Sunny pointed over to Rob. Even through the slight visibility of the office door’s window, his crossed arms matched his grim face. “He needs to stop looking like that. I wish he’d just get over it.”

  Krista’s ears perked up.

  Did this little girl just spout Krista’s favorite bit of wisdom?

  “Get over what?” she asked, her tone filled with a little extra innocence to lead Sunny’s response.

  “Get over looking like that.” A smirk crept over Krista’s lips, one that became a full beam, followed by a laugh. She’d worked with whiny kids, precocious kids, kids that seemed cute in their kidness, but never had she heard one use full Krista Deal logic in a conversation. “Don’t make fun.”

  “I’m not,” she said, kneeling down to Sunny’s level. She put her hands on Sunny’s shoulders and looked directly at the girl. “I’m really not. You know what, Sunny, I think I like you.”

  “I like you too, Krista. You’re cool.”

  “Well then, I think that makes us pals.” Her smile dropped as her phone buzzed. She pulled it out to see a notification from Reunion Services.

  Her eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

  Finder’s reward for Johanna “MoJo” Hatfield established: $15,000.

  Fifteen grand? How the hell was that even possible? Maybe the UK hadn’t consolidated the financial assets from the population—alive or dead—the way America had. Because she was pretty sure that absolutely no one in the San Francisco Metro—possibly even the state of California—had that kind of money. That was easily a hundred grand or more in pre-pandemic times.

  All that for a missing pop star.

  Sunny inhaled sharply. “You swore.”

  “Right. Right, I’m sorry. Bad words. You shouldn’t say that.” Krista bit down on her lower lip, rereading the message.

  “Now you’re looking like that. I don’t get grown-ups. You need to get over it too.”

  “Sorry, it’s this thing. There’s this singer named MoJo and—”

  “Oh!” The girl’s eyes brightened with her outburst. “You like MoJo too?”

  “Uh...not quite. You know her?”

  “We have her DVD. Have you seen it? It’s so cool.”

  “Oh, so could you recognize her if you saw her?”

  Sunny didn’t seem to hear the question, as she broke out into an impromptu version of what Krista assumed was a MoJo song. “I want to get married to that song.” Sunny’s proclamation came with a grin large enough to back up its sincerity.

  “I can arrange that. Here.” Krista reached into her bag and pulled out a card. “Call me in twenty or thirty years, okay?”

  Little fingers promptly snatched the card out of her hands, and Sunny studied it with an intensity that made no sense. “You plan...weddings.”

  “That’s the job. No gas mask required. Though I have a degree in graphic design. Not that it helps much these days.”

  Sunny’s eyes seemed to follow an invisible bouncing ball as she tracked from left to right in thought, her expression evolving from curiosity to epiphany, a joy in discovery that only came from being too young to be jaded—PASD or no PASD. “You can help me. I need to plan a wedding,” Sunny said. Down the hallway, a door opened and Rob’s voice came through.

  “I suppose all girls dream of their weddings.”

  “You can plan mine too, later.”

  “Wait, whose wedding—”

  “We can go,” Rob said before Krista could finish. The little bell tied to Sunny’s backpack rang as he patted her shoulder, and then she dashed ahead of them. “Hold up, Sun.”

  Sunny stopped in place, though she remained facing out the door.

  “Ms. Eswara, I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce my friend Krista. She comes by my office sometimes.” Rob glanced at Krista, the pleading request in his eyes a bit too obvious.

  Professional performance—Krista’s inner switch flipped. She lived for this stuff. “I am so glad we have a chance to talk,” she said. The principal’s brow rose, either skepticism or surprise or perhaps a little bit of both. No bother, though. Diffusing that was part of her job. Krista strode forward, stopping to use the hand sanitizer on the counter again, based on Ms. Eswara’s affinity for modern germ protection, then reached into her purse to pull out a business card. “I imagine teaching in this environment can be difficult, especially since the Greenwood incident. You’re doing a great service. I plan weddings, and one of Rob’s coworkers is a client. We just gradually got to know each other from that. I was with Rob when the power went out, but when he told me you could use a character witness I wanted to come by.” A pleasant smile came through, the one typically saved for city official
s or hotel workers or people who weren’t at ease being in groups or public places. “Did you still want to speak?”

  “Actually, though I do appreciate you coming by, we’ve had to cut it short. The power outage has thrown everyone’s schedule off.” A glance at the clock showed that it was pushing six o’ clock. “Mr. Donelly, I’ll file my recommendations to the board right now and you’ll be getting an update within twenty-four hours. I’ll note that you brought a character witness and Sunny seems very engaged with her.”

  A subtle chain reaction of glances unfolded, first Rob to Krista, then Krista to Sunny, then Sunny meeting her eyes. “Of course,” Krista said. “If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate.”

  Triple rate? Krista could do this all day.

  * * *

  “Nice work back there,” Rob said when they hit the parking lot minutes later.

  “Thanks. Everything all right?” Krista asked, her voice low.

  “Yeah. I just can’t believe how schools think they know everything these days.”

  “Daddy, guess what?” Sunny’s pep cut through the bitterness in her dad’s voice.

  “What’s that, Sun?”

  “Krista’s going to plan my wedding when I grow up.”

  Krista forced herself to keep looking straight ahead, even though she knew he looked her way, a coy glance just within her peripheral vision. “Well, that’s awfully generous of her.”

  “She also said Mommy wants you to be happy. Why aren’t you more happy, Daddy?”

  Even from the side of her eyes, she could see Rob’s entire body stiffen up. Strands of hair whipped her cheeks as she turned in midstride. “I didn’t say anything,” she mouthed.

  “Get in the car, Sun. Lemme talk to Krista a second.” He hit the unlock button on his key ring. Just ahead of them, a blue SUV beeped a greeting.

  Sunny ran to the car, a blur of gray hoodie and jeans, and opened the door, backpack zippers jingling a scattered melody. She jumped in, giving the car a slight bounce, and Rob shut the door behind her. “Did she bring up Elena?” he asked, his voice a few clicks above a whisper.

  “I just told her what my job was.” Krista’s tone and volume matched his. “She brought it up. I offered to tell her about my college major but she didn’t seem interested.”

  “Wait—what did she say?”

  “She said that Elena wants you to be happy. I agreed with her. What was I supposed to say? ‘Excited about Hersh’s speech tonight’?”

  Rob looked into the back window and motioned for Sunny to buckle up. His chin rumpled with a frown, and he pulled up the handle on the car door, leaving it just slightly ajar. “It’s all right. I’m sorry she bothered you about it. I appreciate all your help today. Mail you a check?”

  Krista considered saying her usual spiel about how she preferred cash, and in most cases, only took cash. But given the swing of the day, following Rob around while he got some money would be more trouble than it was worth. “Cash please,” she said, handing Rob a business card.

  “Okay. And if there’s anything you need, I owe you big-time.”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll come by your office in the morning.”

  Rob nodded and said something lost in the wind as Krista walked to her own car. It beeped as she tapped her key ring, and she looked over one more time.

  Not at Rob. At Sunny’s grinning face and waving hands.

  Krista showed Sunny a full, reassuring smile in return. She didn’t even have to force it.

  Official tally of individuals presumed missing due to the Fourth Path cult:

  San Francisco Metro: 3, including Kay Greenwood

  Sacramento Metro: 2*

  Santa Cruz Reclaimed Territory: 4

  Monterey Reclaimed Territory: 19

  Fresno Metro: 37

  San Luis Obispo Reclaimed Territory: 8

  Los Angeles Metro: 55

  San Diego Metro: 92

  Various Looter Gangs: 68**

  *It is uncertain if Kay Greenwood led her followers north to Sacramento before heading south or if these individuals were visiting the San Francisco Metro when the movement began.

  **Number is estimated based on anecdotal evidence from known California looter gangs.

  Chapter Ten

  Sunny

  A knock came on the door, then it pushed open a little bit. Light from the hallway came through the opening, and Daddy’s head poked in. “Sun, I gotta talk with you about something.” Sunny felt the bed sink as Daddy sat on the edge.

  Something. He probably wanted to talk about Noel. And Ms. Eswara. And all of the bad stuff from earlier today. “Daddy, I said I was sorry about hitting Noel.” She gripped the blankets tight between her fingers. “But he deserved it. He said Mommy was dead.”

  With the light behind him, she could barely see Daddy’s face mash up, like he smelled something awful. Sunny waited patiently for him to say something, remembering the school lesson on speaking and listening. “Right. Well, see, this is the thing about Mommy...” His voice faded away and he looked down at the floor.

  Sunny took it as her turn to speak. “Did you call her tonight?”

  Daddy let out a hmph sound. His hands patted his knees several times before resting, and he rocked back and forth a few times. “No,” he said after a moment. “Sunny, I couldn’t talk with Mommy because—”

  “How come the doctors let you talk to Mommy, but not me?” The words came out before she could stop them. She knew better than that. That was rude. She pulled the blankets up to her nose.

  She’d wanted to ask that for some time now. At least it finally got out. She hoped it didn’t upset him.

  Daddy rubbed his face, and she saw he was frowning again, even without any lights turned on. “Well, it’s because...” The edge of his knuckle pressed into his lip, pushing on his nose. “Look, there’s something I have to tell you about Mommy. You see, sometimes people make the wrong choice—”

  The wrong choice! “Is it because I do things like hitting Noel?” The question came out fast. She couldn’t help it.

  “What? No. No, Sun, it’s not that at all.” Daddy smiled gently.

  That made her feel even worse.

  “I said I was sorry.” She couldn’t stop the feeling. The question about Mommy, she’d wanted to ask it for so long, and she thought she’d feel better after asking it, but now she just felt bad, everything felt bad. It made no sense. Her eyes felt hot and wet. She blinked, trying to slow things down, but the tears started to roll down her cheeks. “I said I was sorry.”

  Daddy reached over and pulled her in, her head now buried against his chest. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Sunny remembered what he always said about giving a firm handshake and squeezed back much harder. “Sunny, Mommy’s very proud of you. I promise. She just doesn’t want you hitting people. You have to talk about your problems.”

  “But Noel wouldn’t believe me. I kept telling him that Mommy was getting treatment.”

  “Some people just won’t believe the truth. And it’s up to you to be the better person in the argument. Lies catch up to them eventually.” She leaned back, first sitting, then suddenly feeling really tired, her head went back down to the pillow and Daddy kissed her on the top of her hair. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it, Sun?”

  “Yeah,” she said, pulling the blankets back up to her nose.

  “How about we get some rest? Start fresh tomorrow?”

  “Okay, Daddy. I love you. And I love Mommy too. I can’t wait for her to get better so I can see her.”

  Beneath the blanket, she was smiling. The room was still mostly dark, but the way he nodded, she bet Daddy was smiling too.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rob

  Rob had considered telling Sunny the truth about Elena before, but never as seriously as tonight. The fact that he was p
ushed to this point, not by her own need to know or his willingness to tell, but by the Family Stability Board...

  It certainly didn’t make him think he’d been taking the high road this whole time.

  Either way, things were going to get worse before they got better.

  Elena had said that once. It applied now, pondering the possibilities of another outbreak, the conundrum in the form of his daughter, and the email he’d just received from the Family Stability Board. It applied back in quarantine, another moment when Rob stood by and watched Sunny sleep.

  They’d sat alone in their prison-cell-turned-bunk, a cot on the floor for them and folded blankets in a large cardboard box for the then almost-two-year-old Sunny. Elena looked over, her usual long hair cut short (“less water, less shampoo”) and now tied back into two blond pigtails. She held up her fork, offering the slice of Spam his way. He shook his head no, not that he had anything against Spam. His Japanese mother used to make Spam sushi, something that his father—a European mutt of the truest sense—used to joke about.

  But it wasn’t about salty canned meat. They had a protocol with rationed food: first Sunny ate, then Elena, then Rob took whatever was left over. Rob insisted, given that Sunny still nursed about half of her nourishment from Elena. Given the quarantine’s limited resources—even more critical since overland looter gangs started hitting government supply convoys—they tried to keep Sunny on breast milk for as long as possible.

  Sunny, however, seemed to have her own opinion on things, and was starting to refuse mother’s milk.

  “There’s another distribution meeting tomorrow,” Elena said.

  Rob nodded. Everyone had a role in quarantine, whether it matched their pre-pandemic job or not. Rob fixed computers, kept the network running with a small team of three other people, and that morning as they worked on Wi-Fi stability, all talk had focused on the supply distribution meeting.