by David Lucin
“Mouth to feed,” she repeated. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re supposed to be in New River. There’s a camp there for you.”
Jenn repressed a shudder. The National Guard had cleared the interstate between Flagstaff and New River, so messengers occasionally came and went, and the most up-to-date news was dire: the place had exploded in size, quintupled at least, and supplies were running dangerously low. Recently, Jenn heard, a flu bug had been working its way through the population, taking a heavy toll on the weak and elderly. Assuming no outside aid from the federal government, the most optimistic estimates gave New River three months to survive before it imploded.
“I guarantee most of the refugees do more to help out than you,” Jenn snapped. “What’ve you done, huh? Sit around at home all day, then come pick up your handout? Half of you who were living in this town before haven’t bothered lifting a finger since all this started.” That insult wasn’t entirely fair—there were too many people in Flagstaff and not enough jobs—but she had to rebut, and this was what came to mind first.
“Jenn,” Allison squeaked, hiding behind her thick red hair. “Please, don’t.”
The woman crossed her arms and spoke as if Allison was a ghost. “It doesn’t matter,” she hissed. “Just you wait. When Grierson wins the election this fall and becomes mayor, CFF will send you down there. Six weeks too late, if you ask me.”
CFF. Citizens for Flagstaff. The organization, a political party of sorts run by Vincent Grierson, a prominent landowner based on a ranch near the airport, emerged shortly after the bombs. What it advocated was nothing short of xenophobic. The refugees, Grierson argued, were stretching Flagstaff’s limited supplies to the brink and were responsible for the uptick in crime around town. His solution? Deport them to New River and close the borders for good.
Jenn hated CFF and what it stood for. There was no evidence that crimes were being committed by refugees, and solving the food problem was a complex issue with dozens of variables. But many people didn’t care to work out the answer; they wanted a scapegoat, and Vincent Grierson had given them one. CFF thus became the lightning rod for everyone who feared the refugees or wished they were gone.
The butt of Jenn’s Glock was cool on her fingertips. She pictured herself aiming it at this woman’s forehead, if only to see how she’d react. By crying, hopefully. Val would train her SIG on the husband while Jenn demanded that they drop to their knees and apologize.
A touch to her shoulder shattered the daydream. “Please, Jenn,” Allison said. “It’s okay. Everyone has their own opinions. Let’s just leave it alone.”
For a second time, the man scoffed, while his wife made a smug face. “No,” Jenn spat. “It’s not okay. People like this should be in New River, not you. If we’re sending anyone away, it should be the dead weight.” With an exaggerated motion, she eyed the couple from head to toe. “And I know dead weight when I see it.”
The woman’s mouth hung open in horror. Jenn reveled in it, but the fire in her chest was burning hotter than before and her knees were shaking.
“We got a problem here?” came a new voice, this one from outside the line.
A female police officer, her long blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail, rested her hand on her sidearm. She was the cop who stopped Jenn, Gary, and Sam when they were pushing Maria’s oxygen compressor and batteries across town on the day after the bombs. Officer Ross.
“No,” Val answered flatly. “We have no problems.”
A second officer approached, speaking into the radio mic clipped to his shoulder. The ambient chatter from the line had quieted, and those in front and behind had backed away a few steps. The woman and her husband held their heads high. Jenn wanted to knee them both in the stomach.
“Move it along here,” Ross began. “But keep it civil. We’re watching you.”
“It’s fine,” Allison said, teary-eyed. “I’m leaving anyway.” She gripped the straps on her backpack and ducked beneath the stanchion.
In a flash, Jenn forgot all about the police, the couple, CFF, everything. She followed Allison away from the line. When she reached out, Allison shook her off and stormed toward their bikes. “Allison!”
Was she embarrassed? Frightened? Jenn was only trying to stand up for her friend, so why was she so upset?
“Allison, wait.” Jenn jogged to catch up, Val following close behind. “I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, but it felt like the right thing to say.
With a huff, Allison planted her feet and slung off her backpack. Wheezing some more, she dug around inside and found her inhaler. After a long hit, she said, “It’s okay. You were just trying to help. But . . . But . . .”
“But what?” The question came across sharply, and Jenn didn’t mean for it to, so she added, more softly, “People need to realize that some of us support you being here. We can’t let them get away with thinking they can treat you like dirt.”
“I know, and I appreciate it, but sometimes . . .” Allison took another puff of her inhaler. “Sometimes it makes it worse.”
“Worse?” Jenn asked. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” Allison said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Jenn gripped her by the wrist. “It’s not nothing. Did something happen to you?”
Val chimed in with, “If anyone hurts you, you must tell the police.”
“Nobody hurt me,” Allison answered quickly. “It’s just . . . Last week, when you guys were working, I went to get water with Ryan. A couple people found out we were refugees and started talking about us behind our backs. Ryan cut in like you did and . . .” Sniffling, she trailed off. “One of them had a knife out. When the police came to break it up, he put it away, but it scared me, I guess.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenn said sincerely. “I didn’t know. Why haven’t you told me about this?”
Allison wiped her nose on the back of her wrist. “Because you have enough going on. You shouldn’t have to worry about me, too.”
Jenn held her friend by the shoulders. “If you don’t feel safe, you need to tell me, okay? You should be able to go anywhere and do whatever you want like anyone else. Just because you’re not from here doesn’t mean you have to be scared all the time.”
“Okay,” Allison said and dabbed at her nose.
“Let’s head back to Gary’s and hang out for a while,” Jenn offered, “but you should tell him what you told me. He’s got an in with the cops. It might help if they hear about what’s going on so they can keep an eye out.”
At the end of a long, shaky breath, Allison conceded, “Okay. Sure. Sounds good.” She forced out a regretful smile. “Sorry I bolted like that. I know you were looking forward to beets.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Jenn continued toward their bikes. “I’ll make Gary give us some of the kale he’s growing in his garden.”
Some color returned to Allison’s face. “I can’t say no to that.”
4
Val dropped in a black disk. Jenn countered with a red. This was their fifth straight game of Connect Four at the Ruiz house, and Jenn had lost them all.
In the kitchen, Maria was showing Allison how to make cornbread. On the couch lay Ajax, Gary beside him. His feet were up on the coffee table, and his nose was deep in a book. From the title, Fire and Movement: The British Expeditionary Force and the Campaign of 1914, it seemed as though he’d decided to branch out from World War Two and was now teaching himself about World War One as well. What better time than the apocalypse to explore new interests?
Jenn propped her chin on a fist and replayed the incident at the Go Market in her mind. She shouldn’t have snapped like that. She’d only wanted to defend Allison, but in the end, speaking up had backfired. Instead of feeling safer, Allison was upset and worried about her future in Flagstaff. If Jenn hadn’t said anything, maybe Allison would have simply ignored that couple’s snide remarks and gone on with her day. They could have been eating b
eets for dinner.
Yet some of the fire in Jenn’s chest lingered, tickling her throat. Intellectually, she understood why some residents were angry about refugees in Flagstaff; she could see their point of view. But at the same time, that point of view was logically flawed. The math didn’t add up. By Jenn’s estimates, to feed Allison and all the other newcomers, each Flagstaff resident would have to give up a mere one hundred calories per day. A slice of bread. A potato. A quarter cup of beans. Sure, when most people were eating less than 1500, that might seem like a lot, but nobody would die as a result. Wasn’t that kind of sacrifice worth saving two thousand lives?
“Jenn?”
“Hmm?”
Val was tapping her nails on the table. “It’s your turn.”
“Right. Sorry.” Absentmindedly, she played a red piece.
With a self-congratulatory chortle, Val dropped in another black one, connecting four in a horizontal line. “That’s six now. You aren’t even paying attention.”
Jenn wanted to talk about what happened earlier and explain to Gary that locals had been intimidating Allison and her brother, but she was waiting for Allison herself to bring it up when she was ready. “Yes I am. You’re just better than me at this.”
“Then best out of seven.” Val flipped the switch to release all the pieces, which crashed onto the table, waking Ajax from his precious slumber.
“I don’t think you know what that means.”
“Jenn,” Maria called from the kitchen, “tomorrow morning, do you mind going by the Go Market for us? Gary’s out helping Liam, and word on the street is that there’s fresh beets. I can give you some of our ration stamps to take with you.”
The mention of beets made Allison freeze, her fingers in a mound of yellow dough. Jenn waited for her to speak up, but the only sound came from the humming of Maria’s oxygen compressor.
“Why is everyone acting like they stole cookies from the jar?” Maria asked. “I know that look. I had a daughter, remember? So I can tell when you’re keeping secrets.”
“It’s nothing,” Jenn said. “But yeah, no problem. Give me your stamps before I head home tonight.”
Allison fetched a rolling pin and pressed it into the dough, while Maria adjusted the hose wrapped around her ears and asked, “Are you sure everything’s all right?”
Jenn opened her mouth to lie and say yes, but Allison began, “We already went to the Go Market today.”
“Oh?” Maria said. “I thought you picked up water and came straight here.”
Allison wiped her hands on the front of her apron. “No, we tried going but left because . . . Well, um . . .” Her eyes flitted to Jenn. They seemed to ask, Can you tell them?
“Some jerks were yapping behind Allison’s back about her being a refugee. I was stupid and started mouthing off, and they got mad and there was a bit of a standoff.”
A thwump came from the couch as Gary slammed his book shut. “Is everyone okay?”
“We’re fine,” Jenn assured him, then watched Allison for a sign that she should continue. The hint of a smile crossed her friend’s face, so she added, “Look, Gary, it’s tense for refugees out there right now. We just don’t really see it as much as they do.” She recounted Allison’s story. When she mentioned the knife, Maria brought both hands to her mouth and gasped.
Gary pulled out a chair and sat at the end of the table. “Is that true, Allison? Do you feel uncomfortable or like you’re in danger when you go out?”
She poked at the dough with a finger. “Well, I mean, usually nothing bad happens, especially if we stick around campus where there’s lots of other refugees, but . . . I . . .”
Jenn cut in with, “The police have to do something, Gary. They brought these people in and said they can stay, so it’s their job to keep them safe.”
He leaned back in his chair, which creaked beneath him. “I’ll pass it onto Liam, but I’m not sure what he’ll be able to do. Officers could watch lines more closely, but they don’t have the manpower to patrol the streets like they used to, not when they’re stretched so thin and working double or triple time already.”
“Can’t they put a few uniforms at the dorms?” Jenn asked, frustrated that more couldn’t be done. “I’m there a lot and I’ve never seen a cop. Have you, Allison?”
She played with the dough some more and hid behind her hair, like she was ashamed to voice what was on her mind. “Sometimes they’ll walk through, but they don’t stay very long.”
Gary brushed his mustache. “As I said, I’ll pass it onto Liam, but I’m afraid that nothing much will happen. There’s been no reports of actual violence against refugees, and until that happens, Chief Morrison’s reluctant to take officers away from other key points and post them on campus.”
“So we have to wait until someone gets hurt before we do anything?” Jenn barked. She sounded angry, even to her ears, and she was, but she was angry with the situation, not with Gary. For a second, she considered clarifying that she didn’t blame him or the police, but he knew her well enough to understand that she wasn’t blaming anyone in particular.
“Hopefully not,” Gary said diplomatically. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Jenn nearly demanded more from him, but he was only a consultant, not an actual cop. He played no official role in determining how officers were deployed, but Liam and Chief Morrison valued his opinion, so maybe he’d be able to effect some change.
“And what about this CFF?” Val asked as she stacked Connect Four pieces, alternating reds and blacks. “Are they not making it worse?”
Gary interlocked his fingers on the table. “I agree with you there, Val. Grierson’s giving a lot of people the impression that hostility toward refugees is acceptable. Really, we should be thankful that there aren’t more refugees here.”
“More?” Jenn asked.
“When you think about it,” Gary said, “two thousand isn’t that many. Imagine the situation on the Eastern Seaboard, where the population density is so much higher. We’re lucky here. Flagstaff’s surrounded by desert on all sides and relatively far from major urban centers aside from Phoenix, and New River is taking the vast majority of the refugees from there. Towns in, say, upstate New York or Florida would be overwhelmed.”
“Like Santa Fe,” Allison contributed. She blew a strand of hair from her face and continued rolling her dough. “When me and Charlie came up from Albuquerque, there were hundreds on the road. A week later, there were almost more refugees than people who lived there. That’s why we left.”
Gary knocked his wedding ring against the table. “Really, we should be thankful. It’s a shame that Vincent Grierson is pushing the narrative that we can’t accommodate that many, because we can.”
“Right?” Jenn agreed. “How is he even allowed to go on and on about wanting to deport them, anyway? Official policy is giving sanctuary to refugees. The mayor signed off on it. Why don’t we just shut him down?”
“Unfortunately, that’s not possible.” There was a hint of regret in Gary’s answer. “CFF hasn’t committed any crimes, and silencing Grierson would infringe upon his freedom of speech.”
Jenn snorted. “Sure, I get that, but he’s promoting hatred or whatever. Isn’t that against the law?”
Gary paused to ponder the question. “It’s more complicated than that. CFF has become a delicate political issue. Vincent Grierson has a large number of supporters, and they feel left out and forgotten, like city hall and the police are more worried about helping the refugees than the locals. To simply shut CFF down would go a long way to validating those ideas and playing into that narrative. Not to mention, it would create a martyr out of Grierson, so to speak. I’m afraid that the simplest course of action here—outlawing CFF—would end up dividing the town even more.”
She hadn’t considered the situation from that angle before, but Gary was right. Shutting Grierson down could enrage his supporters and maybe even convince some fence-sitters to begin backing his cause. The problem
went much deeper than CFF, so keeping the refugees safe and in Flagstaff required changing people’s minds about them. “I get it,” she conceded. “So where do we go from here, then? What’s the answer?”
Maria came over to Gary and massaged his shoulders. “I know of one way we can start fixing this whole mess.”
“And this is what?” Val asked.
Maria kissed the top of Gary’s head. “My husband finally announcing his bid to run for mayor.”
Jenn had always supported the idea of Gary running for office. As long as she’d known him, every few months he would casually mention the possibility or talk about what he’d do differently. Coincidentally, 2062 happened to be an election year, and there were no signs of anyone wanting to postpone the vote due to the crisis. Actually, people in Flagstaff seemed anxious to cast their ballots and have a say in their future. And who better to lead them into that future than Gary Ruiz? He knew everyone in town and was respected for first being a cop in Phoenix and then volunteering with the Flagstaff PD after his retirement. He was also the father of a soldier who died in the war, and those kinds of sacrifices meant a lot, even now.
“I have no doubt,” Maria continued, “that you could beat Grierson and Andrews.”
Andrews. Jenn hated that the woman’s name was so similar to her brother’s. “I think you should go for it,” she told him, careful to sound serious; she didn’t want him to confuse her encouragement for sarcasm. “Andrews is a dud. There’s no way she can win if Grierson runs against her.”
“And who’s to say I’ll beat him?” Gary asked. “You joke about how I’m friends with the whole town, but Vincent Grierson is by far the more public figure. He’s lived here his entire life and is very active in the community, what with the food drives he and his wife organized and the free samples he gave out at the Go Market during the war. For a lot of people, that was the only real meat they’d eaten in weeks. They won’t soon forget his generosity.”
Jenn was a little embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that she and Sam had, on several occasions, taken advantage of Grierson’s freebies. Thinking back now, though, she’d happily return every slice of ham or piece of chicken she ever took from the man.
