Desolation

by David Lucin

  Every time Jenn helped Gary refill Maria’s oxygen tanks, downtown was quiet. Today, though, she found it eerie. Not a soul walked the streets, not even on Milton. Jenn figured most of the town was still hiding from imaginary radiation. She just hoped Carla decided to hide out in her shop and not at home.

  Gary weaved between a white Subaru and a red hatchback and rolled through Aspen Avenue, then pulled off to the right and stopped the car across from Carla’s. Floor-to-ceiling windows flanked either side of the front door. The windows on the left were broken. The lights were off, obviously, so the interior remained dark, but from across the street, Jenn made out the till and some of Carla’s larger inventory: wheelchairs and walkers, mostly.

  “Shit,” she cursed, popping her door open.

  Sam and Gary followed suit as Jenn went to retrieve Gary’s wheelbarrow from the trunk. Bringing it was smart thinking on his part; what they came for would be heavy. Extra oxygen tanks would help Maria in the short term but wouldn’t do her much good if the power stayed off for more than a few days. She needed a compressor, and Carla supplied mobile, battery-powered ones. If they survived the EMP and Gary could find a working solar panel somewhere in town—the police station, maybe, or the hospital, since both had backup power, according to Liam—he could keep the batteries charged and Maria would be okay. Otherwise, they’d take as many oxygen tanks as they could, buying them enough time to come up with another plan.

  The wheelbarrow was too big to fit inside the trunk, so Gary had secured it with two bungee cords. Jenn unlatched them, threw the trunk open, and gripped the wheelbarrow’s handles. Sam, bags hanging underneath his eyes, appeared from the passenger side, took hold of the front wheel, and helped Jenn heave it out and onto the road.

  “Thanks,” Jenn said.

  With a yawn, Sam slammed the trunk closed.

  Anxious about the broken window and eager to see if Carla was here, Jenn turned the wheelbarrow around and pointed it at Carla’s shop, then checked, almost by reflex, her right and left before crossing the street. She felt stupid doing it, knowing no cars would drive past. On the opposite sidewalk, she parked the wheelbarrow and stepped to the front door. She turned the handle but it didn’t budge. She tried again a second time for good measure.

  “It’s locked,” she said.

  Gary and Sam stood in the middle of the street, watching her. Jenn stepped back and inspected the building’s face. The concrete wall between the window and the sidewalk stood less than two feet high, low enough for Jenn to hop over without cutting herself on any remaining glass shards. She’d have to do it quickly, though, without hesitating, or else Gary would try to stop her.

  She brought her feet together and bent her knees but then froze. Yesterday, she’d tried something similar. Without a second thought, she took a chair and smashed it on the bay doors in Minute Tire. In the end, she wound up pinned to the floor while Sam received a fist to the jaw. What if the cops hadn’t shown up? Would that man have hit Sam again—or worse? Jumping into Carla’s place might put her and Sam, and now Gary, at risk again. Someone had smashed the front window, after all. They could still be inside.

  Chewing the inside of her cheek, Jenn looked back at Sam and Gary. Sam, his hands in his pockets, shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He’d follow Jenn to hell and back without thinking twice about it, so it wasn’t his opinion that interested her. She focused on Gary, who offered her a nod and a thumbs-up. “Just be careful,” he said. “Watch out for glass on the inside.”

  Jenn examined the pharmacy’s interior again, watching for movement or any signs of the vandals. From this close, she made out more details than before, but it was still dark, and her memory filled in some of the gaps. Like an island, the cashier’s till stood in the middle of the store. Along the walls on the right and left and behind the till were shelves filled with painkillers, over-the-counter drugs, Band-Aids, tampons, and the like. On the floor, near the till and between the shelves, lived the larger merchandise like the wheelchairs and walkers.

  But no movement.

  Confident the store was empty, Jenn sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and hopped forward and into Carla’s store. She landed with a crunch as her shoes hit the sea of broken glass strewn across the floor. Her feet almost slipped on it, and she threw her arms out to keep balanced.

  Thinking her sudden entrance might bring the vandals out of hiding, she scanned the shop again. Satisfied the place was empty, she wiped her palms on her jeans and made her way toward the till, glass crunching beneath her runners with each step. The few times she’d come here with Gary, Carla or one of her staff always went into the back storeroom to fill Maria’s empty tanks. She assumed Carla kept her mobile compressors and the batteries in there, too.

  “Place looks empty!” Jenn called to Sam and Gary.

  “Put your hands where I can see them!” commanded a woman’s voice.

  Jenn’s heart skipped a beat and she froze mid-stride. That order meant one thing: someone had a gun on her. She brought her hands above her waist but didn’t dare turn her head or move another muscle. She even held her breath.

  “Keep your hands up, palms open, and face this way.”

  Jenn complied, careful not to make any sudden movements.

  Turning, she caught sight of a woman standing behind the till, a shotgun in her hands and pointed straight at Jenn. Carla. She wore the white lab coat her staff used as uniforms. Her curly black hair was longer than Jenn remembered, and it hung below her shoulders. The barrel of the gun remained level and steady. She’d shoot if Jenn made a mistake.

  “Carla,” Gary said softly from outside the store. “Carla, it’s Gary Ruiz. It’s okay. Jenn’s with me.”

  Carla kept the gun up and refused to take her eyes of Jenn. “Gary, why’s she breaking into my store?”

  Gary didn’t respond. Jenn doubted he had a good answer. She didn’t, either, but she tried to reason with Carla anyway. “We’re here for an oxygen compressor,” she said plainly. “A battery-powered one.”

  “I’m closed,” Carla said.

  “I know, but—”

  “Gary, you best get her out of here before I fill her with double-aught buck.”

  Jenn swallowed. Carla kept the shotgun steady, but she blinked hard.

  “No problem, Carla,” Gary said. “Come on out, Jenn.”

  Jenn considered Gary’s Glock. He’d brought it with him, and part of her wondered why he hadn’t turned it on Carla yet. If he did, maybe she’d give in and they could find what they came for. The rest of her, the bigger part, pictured Carla pulling the trigger. “I’m leaving,” Jenn said, then took a big step back.

  Her knees shook as glass crunched beneath her feet again, telling her she was close to the window. Carla stepped out from behind the till and followed Jenn forward. Her arms still up, Jenn looked at Gary and Sam. Both stood outside, their arms at their sides and their palms open.

  “Carla,” Gary said, breaking the silence. “We’re here to ask for your help. That’s all. You remember my wife, Maria, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her oxygen compressor’s down. It needs power and won’t work. We’re using tanks, but we’re afraid they’ll only last a couple days. If the power doesn’t come on by then, we might be in trouble. We’re hoping you can help us.”

  Jenn reached the windows and couldn’t back up any farther. To leave Carla’s store, she’d have to hop outside. She didn’t want to make any sudden movements, though, and the gun seemed lower than it had before Gary started talking. Maybe he was getting through to Carla. Jenn paused and let the conversation unfold.

  “Okay, but that doesn’t explain what she’s doing in my store when I’m clearly not open.”

  Gary didn’t hesitate. “That’s my fault,” he said. “We saw your window was broken and thought you might be in trouble. I asked Jenn to go in and see if everything was okay. I’m sorry we didn’t try letting you know we were here first.”

  Carla’s arms relax
ed a little and her shoulders rose and fell as she tried in vain to suppress a yawn.

  “Listen,” Gary continued. “You mind if we come in and talk? It’s been a rough twenty-four hours, but we need to stick together and help each other.”

  Carla’s eyes wandered toward Gary, the first time she’d taken them off Jenn since this ordeal began. “I assume an ex-cop like you is armed.”

  “I am,” he said. “I’m happy to let you take it if you’ll let us come inside.”

  Carla seemed to mull that over for a moment. Then she let the gun down. “No, it’s fine. But no funny business,” she said. “I’m choosing to trust you because everyone in this town seems to like you and because you’ve been a regular for a while now.” She went to the front door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. Gary came in first. Sam followed, as stiff as a board and his face whiter than usual.

  Jenn unclenched her jaw, but her knees shook as she followed Carla and Gary to the till.

  “What happened to your window?” Gary asked. “Is everyone okay?”

  Carla, the shotgun at her side, leaned against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s fine. I was the only one here. Damn junkies came by last night, probably looking for drugs. I don’t remember what time it was. After midnight. They threw a brick straight through the window without any warning at all. Must’ve known my alarm wouldn’t work. Anyway, I guess I was asleep at the till, but the crash woke me up. I fired at one of them. Missed, but it worked all the same. They ran off and left me alone. I haven’t slept much since then. I think I was dozing when you came over. Scared me half to death.”

  “Sorry about that,” Gary said. “Good thing you’re okay.”

  Carla, evidently trusting Gary enough to lay the shotgun on the till, rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Police aren’t much help. They hardly come downtown anymore, so I guess it’s up to me.”

  “Good thing you’re prepared,” Gary said. “Looks like you’re keeping things in order.”

  Jenn understood that Gary was trying to broach the issue of the oxygen compressor while making Carla feel safe with him first. But they couldn’t spend the whole morning dancing around the issue, not with the clock on her parents ticking. Jenn needed to expedite this process so she could drive to them in Phoenix. “So, like Gary was saying,” she started, trying to keep her tone even and respectful, “we hoped you could help. You have those battery-powered compressors, right? The ones you rent out to travelers and stuff?”

  Carla fixed her eyes on Gary and spoke to him like Jenn was a ghost. “I have three of them and a dozen or so batteries in the stock room. They’re charged but weren’t plugged in, so whatever the hell fried everything yesterday didn’t wreck them. But like I said, I’m closed.”

  “Yeah—” Jenn said, but Gary cut her off.

  “We don’t want to intrude,” he said, “but one of those compressors and some batteries would be a big help to us.”

  Carla shifted her weight. “And how are you planning to pay for them?” she asked. “I can’t give them to you for free. I’ve had enough trouble making ends meet and now I have to replace that window.”

  Carla’s bluntness hit Jenn like a punch to the gut. Sam crinkled his nose up in disgust. Maria needed that compressor and some batteries—her life depended on it—but Carla asked Gary for money like that was all that mattered, like it was the bottom line. Did she think the power would come back on tomorrow? The next day? The EMP, the bombs, Maria—it all dwarfed Carla’s petty concerns about profit and her window. She’d spent so long living for her shop that she refused to see past its front doors, and it made Jenn sick. She wanted to lash out but bit her tongue. Carla wouldn’t even look at her, let alone listen. They needed to play Carla’s game so Maria could breathe, and Gary could play it better than Jenn, so she waited for his response.

  “Can we take them on credit?” he asked, seemingly unfazed by Carla’s callousness.

  “Nope,” she said, laying a finger on the stock of her shotgun. “I don’t know if you’re good for it.”

  Jenn sensed Carla was losing patience and maybe trust. If they kept pressuring her without giving her what she wanted, she might pick up that gun and encourage everyone to leave. But what could they offer her? Jenn couldn’t remember the last time she had any cash, and she doubted Sam did, either. Gary might have some, but not enough to cover what they needed.

  “My car,” Gary said.

  Jenn dropped her jaw and stared at Gary.

  Carla perked up. Gary had finally spoken her language. “Are you still driving that Kia?” she asked.

  “I am.” He reached into his pocket and found his keys. “Take it as collateral. If the power comes on and I can’t pay, you keep it. If I can, I get it back.”

  “It’s working?” Carla asked, a finger on her chin. “I’ve seen a few dead ones in the street.”

  “We drove it here.” Gary turned his body and pointed outside. “There it is. Right outside.”

  Jenn couldn’t decide if she wanted to slap Gary or hug him. She didn’t expect him to offer Carla his car, of all things. It certainly cost far more than an oxygen compressor and a few batteries. Plus, he took pride in that thing. He spent his Saturday afternoons changing the oil, detailing the interior, and doing whatever else men did with their cars. He loved it. But he loved Maria more. And Gary wasn’t stupid. He knew as well as Jenn that this blackout wouldn’t end tomorrow or even in a week or a month from now. Carla’s singular focus hid that reality from her. Without power to charge it, Gary’s Kia was a hunk of metal and little else. And Maria, without oxygen, was as good as dead. No, his choice was the obvious one—the only one.

  Carla held out her hands. “Deal.”

  Gary tossed her his keys.

  “So one compressor,” she said. “And batteries. How many do you need?”

  “All of them,” Jenn said. “We’ll take as many as we can.”

  Carla pulled her own set of keys from her pocket and headed for the rear of the store. “Like I said,” she started, speaking over her shoulder, “I have a dozen or so, but if you can find some working solar somewhere, you should be able to charge them. Just remember”—she stopped and faced Gary—“if you can’t pay for them when the power comes back on, I’m keeping that car. As far as I’m concerned, it’s mine until you pay up.”

  Gary nodded. “Deal.”

  Sam squeezed Jenn’s arm. “I’ll grab the wheelbarrow.”

  13

  Jenn loaded the last of the batteries—eleven in total—into the wheelbarrow. Carla hadn’t helped. She took a seat behind the cashier’s till and shuffled through some papers. At one point, during her third trip to the storeroom, Jenn caught Carla with her feet on the desk.

  Outside, Sam, his T-shirt soaked through, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Jenn’s armpits felt damp, and she regretted wearing jeans again today, but at least her clothes were clean. Sam had on the same shirt and shorts as yesterday, and it smelled like it.

  “That it?” Sam asked.

  Jenn nodded. “Yep, we cleared her out.” She lowered her voice. “Should we say bye?”

  “I think she’s good,” Sam said, grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow.

  “Nice of her to help out.”

  Gary came over, eying Sam and the wheelbarrow. “You’ve got that?” he asked.

  The question sounded straightforward, but Jenn inferred its subtext from Gary’s emphasis on you. She assumed Sam did, too.

  Sam’s eyes met Jenn’s and he clenched his jaw. “It’s no problem.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need to trade off.” Gary slapped Sam on the back, eliciting a scowl from Sam, who lifted the handles of the wheelbarrow. At first, he struggled to keep the wheelbarrow straight. It came close to tipping, but he straightened it with a quick jerk to his left. Picking up his pace, he leveled it out. Gary smirked and shook his head but let Sam carry on.

  Less than ten steps later, Sam let the wheelbarrow down.

 
; “I’ll get it,” Gary offered.

  “I’m good,” Sam said, throwing a hand up to keep Gary back. “We should take my car.”

  “No,” Jenn said reflexively. “We need to save your charge.”

  “We’d need to drive by Mr. Ruiz’s house to get your stuff anyway. It’s only a few blocks out of the way.”

  Jenn hadn’t thought about that. She worried that letting Sam take the car now might encourage him to take it everywhere, but the sooner they could bring this compressor and these batteries to Maria, the better. “Okay,” she conceded. “Let’s do it.”

  “Good plan,” Gary said. “I hope you don’t mind, Sam.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Ruiz. Happy to help.”

  “What’s the best way to get to the parking garage at school?” Jenn asked.

  Gary pinched the corner of his mustache. “Beaver, I think. That should lead us straight to the college. If we take our next right, it’s one block over.”

  With a wave, Gary moved ahead of Sam and led the way down Leroux.

  “I can’t believe you gave your car to Carla,” Jenn said to Gary as they neared the Subaru and the red hatchback they’d driven past on the way here. “Well, I can. But that was pretty quick thinking.”

  “I had a feeling it might come to that,” Gary said over his shoulder. “Part of the reason why I thought we should bring the wheelbarrow, just in case.”

  Sam readjusted his grip on the wheelbarrow and grunted. “You’d think she’d have half a heart to let us have it without paying. Like you said, Mr. Ruiz, we need to help each other out.”

  “She did help us,” Gary said. “But she also has a business to run. It’s in her right to ask for payment.”

  “I don’t know,” Sam started. “It seems like a short-sighted decision to me. I think we all realize the power’s not coming back for a while. Even if it did, I’m not sure her bank account will still be intact. Or even ours.”