by Daphne Lamb
“No,” I said. “That’s really not what’s happening, but it’s okay.”
“You’re not leaving?” he asked. “Robert’s not taking you, is he?”
“He’d like me to,” I said casually. “But it’s time to work on me. You know the usual things.”
Jake drew back. “You should rethink that. Take whoever will have you and hang on to them like nobody’s business.”
“That working for you?” I asked. “Survival means just being desperate?”
He took my hand again. “This life we live now. It’s changed everything.”
“How insightful of you.”
“There’s bigger things we have to worry about. Let’s make sure people have enough to eat and let our natural human goodness rise to the top.”
“Nope,” I said. “That’s not the world I’ve seen. I watched people turn on each other over a bag of Cheetos and my boyfriend killed by cannibals. You want to save the world, then good luck, but the world doesn’t want to be saved. So there’s no point in trying.”
He withdrew his hands and looked shocked. “Um…” He paused. “Are you okay? You sound like you’ve been through a lot.”
I shook my head, trying to keep up the act. “I’m fine,” I said. “The world is too different for me to react to things the way I normally would.”
He drew back more. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed heavily. “You were always so nonchalant about everything,” he said. “Bad news, good news, being unemotional was your priority.”
My windpipe tightened and there was a sickening stab in my stomach.
“I have emotions,” I said. “I just keep them more protected than other people do.”
Jake shook his head.
“I bring them out for special occasions,” I said. “Kind of like fine china. It’s appreciated more.”
I reached for a roll as Jake got up and turned to face the desolate landscape.
“Destiny was right.” He sighed. “You can’t go home again.”
He walked away and left me there on the blanket. A bird flew overhead, and I stared at it, marveling how I hadn’t seen one in at least a month. I went to take a bite of the roll, but he stopped me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
“We’re having a picnic,” I said. “Didn’t you make me a picnic?”
He shook his head, took the roll from me and put it back with the others. “This is for those poor lost souls out there,” he said. “And maybe if they see what human kindness is again, they’ll be better people and stop scaring the shit out of us.”
* * *
When I went back inside, I saw people gathered around a large bulletin board. I fought my way as close as I could to the front and saw that they were taking turns posting things on the massive board—pictures, letters, objects that were of some meaning or other.
“What are we doing?” I asked no one in particular.
“It’s a Tweet Board,” a woman’s voice snapped. “We’re tweeting! We’re having conversation again, sharing memories, looking for loved ones! Get in line if you want to. No cutting.”
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry.”
I turned to see who the voice belonged to, only to be faced with Destiny. She narrowed her eyes at me and then smirked.
I gave her an awkward smile. “Thank you,” I said. “That was very informative.”
She smirked. “Did you want to put something on the board? Something about snaking other girls’ boyfriends?”
“Umm…” I looked around. “I’m really not sure what we’re doing.”
“We’re tweeting. It’s like manual social networking. Because you can’t just put anything up,” she said nastily. “You have to clear it through Debra. You can’t just steal whatever or whoever’s man you want.”
I let my patronizing smile fall and the comment go. “Debra who?”
She pointed over to Debra—my Debra, who’d gone her own way—was now there, trying to kick start a bare bones and extremely limited social media revolution. She beamed next to her large bulletin board and waved index cards at all of us.
“Who wants to submit a tweet for consideration?” she asked as she strolled up and down the line. “And if you like it, you can draw an emoticon or retweet what someone else said.
“I already have one.” Destiny waved her card at me. “Wanna see? It’s about my relationship with Jake.”
I glanced down and saw Jake’s name with lots of hearts drawn around it. I gave her a nice smile.
“Boy,” I said. “Think about how much better your sense of design will be when you don’t communicate like an eighth grader.”
She rolled her eyes and then fought her way to the front.
Debra took another girl’s tweet card. “Ooooh, look!” she said. “Amanda really enjoyed the broth and rolls that were served at lunch today. That’s definitely going up on the board. Hashtag delish!”
“Nice to get back to basics,” someone said behind me. “It’s like the old Twitter, but we’re having an actual conversation face-to-face.”
Debra spotted me from the back of the line and rushed over to see me.
“You!” She gave me a huge smile and grabbed me into a huge hug. I winced at the obscene amount of perfume that covered days of body odor. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Nice to see you too, Debra.”
She beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve started a new career!”
She squeezed my hands, and I smiled back.
“That’s really great,” I said. “Although I’m confused at how one starts a career in an end-times job market.”
She shook her head, lips pursed. “I’m a lifestyle consultant.”
“Nope,” I said. “That wasn’t a job when things were normal and it’s not a job now.”
She ignored my comment. “Please enjoy the Twitter board. Everyone else is.”
I nodded. “Can’t wait for that.”
“Where’s Robert?” she asked. “In a meeting I suppose.”
We both laughed with fake volume at her joke.
I shrugged. “Possibly around here,” I said. “He got engaged, and they’re leaving for the north. Or something.”
Debra suddenly became a tad more reserved. “Engaged?”
“Please.” I folded my arms. “It’ll never last.”
“Engaged?” she said. “Wasn’t he already married?”
“Maybe.” I nodded again, slowly remembering. “I think her name was Sarah or Chantal or something.”
“How does this happen?” she asked. “I just saw him a few days ago.”
“Lots of conventions got thrown out while you were gone,” I said. “Like how cannibals are a thing.
Debra put her hands over her ears. “Why do you talk about that? Stop bringing that up. It’s upsetting!”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She put an arm around me and led me out of the group. “We should tweet about it.” She started to scribble. “We’ve never been close,” she said. “Maybe you’d like to tweet it?” She offered me a card. I smiled and took it. “Sometimes people start flame wars. We don’t support that, but we do encourage getting things to trend. Like ‘Cannibal.’”
“Let me think on it.”
“You were always so witty.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Although I never got into the whole social network thing.”
“You know what your problem is?” she asked and cocked her head to the side. “You’re just not willing to see the bigger picture. Make a people connection. This is nice for others, and you’re too worried about being in your own comfort zone.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” I said. “At least not today.
”
“Maybe if you thought of someone other than yourself,” she said in a low condescending tone. “I heard you beat up a little boy for his medicine.” She raised her eyebrow.
“I think of other people,” I said. “So many times at work, I’ve gotten you out jams. And that kid is a friggin’ liar!”
“Where’s Robert now?”
I thought for a moment, scanned the crowd.
“You don’t know, do you?” she asked.
“That’s hardly my fault,” I said. “He’s got a fiancée to worry about. He was going to leave. Maybe he’s already gone.”
“That’s it,” she said. “You’re banned from Twitter, but I can’t guarantee that people won’t talk about you.”
She turned away and walked into the crowd. “Attention, everyone, today’s trending topic is Verdell’s Useless.”
“Alternate hashtag is ‘Oh come on!’” I said. I looked around, satisfied in my joke and hoping someone else was too. Instead it was ignored.
I watched her walk up to the front of the line. “Selfie booth is coming soon, guys!”
“I’ll show you who’s useless and selfish,” I shouted after her. “Everyone else in the room but me, that’s who.”
A little girl limped in front of me.
“Hey!” I said as I caught up and knelt in front of her. “Are you okay? Do you need help finding your mom?”
The girl faced me, revealing herself to be a little person. “I’m a grown woman,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I just thought you were lost. You seemed like you had a limp.”
“Yeah,” she snarled. “That’s what happens when a big guy tries to attack you and your two kids. I kicked his ass and strained a muscle in the process.”
I raised my hands in surrender. “Sorry for the confusion. You clearly have things under control.”
“Nooo,” she said sarcastically. “I need tall people to hold my hand.”
She stormed off. I walked in the opposite direction and then commandeered the line at the soup bowl.
“What are you doing?” asked the girl with the ladle.
“I’m reaching out for others,” I said. “How many scoops do we give out?”
She breathed a sigh of relief and shoved the spoon at me.
“Thank god,” she said. “Last time I do anything to impress a boy.” With that, she was gone. “I’m free!” she shouted.
So I gave out soup to a line of people who never seemed to end. It just kept going with endless faces every time—sad, depressed faces that looked at me with sorry eyes. I dunked that spoon into the pot and poured its contents into their bowls until the pot ran out. And then like magic, a grizzled man came up with a new one and replaced it without a word.
“Sir?” I asked. “Thank you for—”
He grunted and walked off.
If no one questioned the system, then neither would I. Instead, I ladled and avoided eye contact. Uncomfortable at first, but bowl after bowl made the day go by incredibly fast. I kept going until I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I turned around and looked at a man I hadn’t seen before, holding out a large platter of sandwiches.
“Wait,” he said, squinting. “You’re not Elizabeth. Or are you?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m Verdell.”
“So, where is she?”
“Was she the blonde who served earlier today?”
“Not her,” he said flatly. “Elizabeth was that fat girl with facial hair and liked to yell at everybody. I gave her this job three days ago.”
“I just took this job from a blonde girl,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Oooh,” he said, interest peaked, looking around. “Was she cute? Where’d she go? Did she prefer soup over sandwiches?”
“I don’t know.”
“Forget it,” he said. “How’s the soup holding out?”
“Running low,” I said. “People just keep coming.”
“We’ve got sandwiches now,” he said, shoving a tray at me. “Start giving these out instead.”
“FYI,” I said. “I don’t want to do this forever. I was just trying to prove a point, so if you want to hire someone else—”
He looked out and surveyed the crowd, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d say this, but I miss the days of managing a Verizon store.” He turned to me. “I don’t give praise generously,” he said. “But it looks like you’re doing a good job. So you can have this job as long as you want.”
“Aww,” I said. “That’s first positive comment I’ve heard about my job performance in three years.”
He shrugged and walked away. I took a sandwich and dropped it into the bowl of the next person who was a guy who stared into space.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, coming to.
“It’s a sandwich,” I said.
“You put it in a soup bowl,” he said. “I was expecting soup.”
“We’re out of soup.”
“Is this bread gluten free, at least?”
The woman behind him took notice. “What kind of meat is on it?” she asked. “Because I’ve been trying to go back to my organic, non-hormone diet.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t ask. Does it matter?”
She was horrified. “Does it matter? Does it matter?” she yelled. “Does it matter what you put in your body?”
I turned back to the man in front of me. “If you don’t want your sandwich, then someone else will.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. Are you going to have something else later?”
“I don’t know—”
A hand reached over and started grabbing sandwiches.
“Excuse me,” I said, turning to look, only to be face-to-face with a pale Jake, who had dark circles under his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“The officials say there’s a group heading for a quarantine that’s not friendly,” he said. “I’m going to bring them this nutritious and delicious food and everything will be fine.”
“Wait—”
He took off before I could do or say anything.
The man in front of me was getting more agitated. “What are my vegetarian options?” he asked.
I saw a middle-aged woman who looked very tired try to shove past me. Instead, I handed her the platter and patted her on the shoulder.
“You just got hired,” I said, then ran in the direction I saw Jake go.
By the time I reached the back exit of the quarantine, Jake was long gone. The door swung back and forth with lazy abandon, the lock rotated wildly.
I rushed to get there, but was stopped by a guy in a full-body security suit.
“Restricted area,” he said, his voice muffled by the shielded helmet he wore. “You’ll have to turn around.”
“What?”
The guard took off his helmet, revealing a very soft face bearded man. “You can’t be here,” he said. “Turn around.
“Sir,” I said. “My friend is making a very stupid mistake and I need to stop him.”
“Like you going out there isn’t a stupid mistake,” he said. “I’m going to have to ask you to go back inside.”
“Sir—” I started.
He shook his extremely large head. “Quit undermining my authority,” he said. “Doesn’t a protective body suit and helmet give you any indication that I’m in charge and know what I’m talking about?”
“He took a plate of sandwiches,” I said. “There’s a man who’s going to die on your watch.”
“There were sandwiches?” he asked incredulously. “Come on!”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just over there—”
“I was waiting out the soup too,” he said. “Just my luck.”
I made another motion to go out the d
oor, but he held me back with his hand. “That’s no reason to risk your life out there. You don’t know what’s out there.”
“He thinks everyone can be cured!” I said. “He needs to know he’s wrong!”
He tilted his head. “Sounds like there’s more of a personal problem here.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” I said. “And none of your business.”
He folded his thick arms. “Who’d he dump you for?”
I was speechless. “Sir,” I said. “That has nothing to do with anything.”
“Cry about it to the Twitter Board,” he said, steering me in its direction. The alarm bells sounded and the lights went down. His grip on me tightened. “We got to bunker down. The hordes are coming.”
People started to panic and rush in chaos, and the guard pushed me toward the crowd, which was terrifying. I tried to gain my footing, but the power of the group was too strong.
There was a low rumble that gained momentum. The hordes were on top the quarantine, banging away at its foundation, trying to break into its metal shell. A woman’s scream came from one corner of the room.
“Jake!” Destiny cried, frantically pushing through the crowd. “He didn’t come back! He didn’t come back!”
The banging was even louder, and I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard the sound of a man’s scream come out of their destruction. I stopped trying to fight against the crowd and let the flow carry me to the side of the room where I tightly gripped a pole and closed my eyes.
It wasn’t long before the tent walls were broken and a van drove through the barriers. Six hooded gang members jumped out and laid waste to everything in what was once our sanctuary. They set fires and set off gunshots while people screamed and hid behind anything they could. I ducked behind a pile of blankets and bags, then covered my head with my hands. I opened my eyes and peeked out long enough to see Jake’s head affixed to the horse of one of the riders. It was soaked in blood, the eyes rolled far deep back, but it was unmistakably him, down to the sad, weary look on his face. The rider threw a sandwich into one of the pipes and laughed.
I had never seen anything so gruesome, and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the image would leave my brain forever.
“Attention, maggots!” one of them yelled with a female’s voice. “We are here on a divine mission from our leader. We are here to take more of your delicious sandwiches and draw your blood until he is happy.”