Sunfall (Book 1): Journey

by D. Gideon

  “We’ll get it all put into the system once everything’s back up,” a cheerful worker had told me yesterday. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get the meal card tabs straightened right out. It’ll only take a day or two. You just hold onto that receipt, honey, in case someone types in a number wrong.”

  The serving ladies didn’t look at all cheerful today. They looked harried and stressed.

  We finally made it up to the end of the line where there was actually food, only to find styrofoam bowls of a grey mush lined up. I hesitated, and the woman behind the line slopped the mess into another bowl and slid it forward. Next to her, another woman was sliding stacks of three pancakes onto thick paper plates and setting them forward.

  “Oatmeal or pancakes, take your pick and move it,” the oatmeal server said gruffly. “One or the other; can’t have both.”

  I pulled a bowl of oatmeal onto my tray and gave Corey a worried glance. He took a bowl too, and then reached for a second.

  “Just one!” The serving lady snapped, covering the bowl he was reaching for with a hand. “You want seconds, you go back to the end of the line.”

  “Is there milk to put into this?” Mel asked, pointing at one of the bowls.

  The lady snorted and rolled her eyes. “Milk’s all gone. Butter’s all gone. There’s no fruit, either. What you see is what you get.”

  “I was just asking,” Mel grumbled. “Christ. Bite my head off.” She pulled a plate of pancakes onto her tray.

  “What about sugar?” Marco asked, using that low, sultry voice that made even senior ladies giggle and blush. “Not that you’re not sweet enough-“

  “Sugar packets and syrup are on the condiment counter,” the woman snapped. Marco’s eyebrows shot up and he blinked. I had to stifle my laugh. It wasn’t often that Marco got shut down when he laid on the charm.

  The line had stopped; up at the register there was an argument brewing. I tried my luck with the pancake server.

  “Excuse me, but yesterday I was told you guys were trying to use up all of the refrigerated items,” I said. “Is that all gone already?”

  The woman—her name tag read Susan—moved to the side as another worker slipped in beside her and switched out her nearly-empty pancake pan for a full one. Susan sighed and leaned on the counter with one hand while her co-worker used tongs to transfer the last few pancakes from the first tray into the new one.

  “I don’t know what happened, but last night just before closing we got swarmed,” she said. “Cleaned us out. We were refilling everything as fast as we could and by the time we got back from the walk-in with more, our trays would be empty again.”

  “It was like a damn feeding frenzy,” Oatmeal Lady said, putting down her ladle and wiping her wrist across her forehead. She wasn’t wearing a name tag. “People were expecting those fast food joints in the Stamp to open up, and when they didn’t, they rushed over here right before we closed.”

  “That’s what all these people are—they normally eat at the food court in the Stamp,” Corey said. The Stamp was the hub of the campus, a large building with a number of fast food joints, a four-star restaurant, a chapel, a bank, an art gallery, a fitness gym, our mailboxes, the campus bookstore, and even a movie theatre that showed the latest big-ticket offerings. It had been designed like a miniature shopping mall, so the students wouldn’t need to go off-campus for anything.

  Susan nodded and waved her hand. “This is what it used to be like before they put the food court in the Stamp. I’d forgotten how hard it used to be.”

  “Doesn’t help that hardly anybody showed up today,” Oatmeal lady said. “Each and every one of ‘em needs to get their ass fired.”

  “The Stamp takes cash!” A male student at the register said loudly. “Credit cards, too!”

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t take either of those with the power out,” the lady at the register said. “Didn’t you see the sign on the door? Meal Cards Only.”

  “I don’t have a fuckin’ meal card! I’m not putting money on a card that I can’t get back if I don’t use it!” The student yelled. “Take my fucking cash, lady!”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t,” the woman repeated calmly. “Do you have a friend that could pay for your lunch on their card?”

  The student banged a fist on the top of the register and stuck his finger in the woman’s face. His voice was low and threatening, and I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The woman’s eyes grew wide but she stood her ground.

  I hopped out of line and thrust my meal card at the woman. “Here, use mine,” I said. I smiled brightly at her, ignoring the large student who was still bent over the register staring her down. “It’s just pancakes and a water. No biggy. I’ll pay for it.”

  The woman—Stella, her name card said—grabbed my card and started writing quickly. “Thank you, honey. What are you getting? I’ll put it on here, too.”

  “Oatmeal and water,” I told her. I turned to the student. “You all set? Everything cool?”

  He straightened and shook his head. “Yeah. Thanks. Haven’t eaten since the power went out ‘cuz everything else on campus is closed. Fuckin’ stupid how they can’t even take cash. Who doesn’t take cash?”

  Stella handed me my copy of the receipt and my meal card, thanking me again. I grabbed a pen from the register and started writing on the receipt. The student picked up his tray and turned to go.

  “Hold on, don’t go anywhere. What’s your name?” I asked him.

  “Eugene,” he said. “Why?” He started to grin. “You want my number?”

  “Line forms behind me, buddy,” Marco said loudly. “I’ve got dibs.”

  I flipped Marco the bird. “Eugene what?”

  “Lassiter,” Eugene said, bending over to try to see what I was writing. I finished up and held out the receipt.

  “Here. It’s got my meal card number on it and I wrote that you’ve got permission to use it. Come back and get all the food you want until this blows over.”

  He blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” I said. “It’s loaded for a full semester of meals. Take it.”

  He took the receipt in his free hand and gave me a cautious look, then looked over at Stella. “Will you guys accept this?” He asked. I tucked my meal card back into my wallet and dropped it into the thigh pocket of my cargo pants.

  She made a face that showed she clearly wasn’t supposed to, but then waved a hand. “Sure. I stood here and saw her sign it. Anybody else gives you crap about it, you just tell ‘em to come get me.”

  He stood there for a moment thinking, then shook his head again. “Thanks. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I just-”

  “Don’t you worry about it,” Stella interrupted. “I raised three sons and I’ve been working here for twenty years. I know how you boys get when you’re hungry.”

  “Okay okay, drama’s over, everyone’s happy, all’s right with the world. Can we get this line moving now?” Oatmeal Lady called.

  “Bitch,” Stella muttered. She jerked her head to the door. “Best get goin’.”

  We moved to the side and Mel stepped up to pay. Corey leaned out of line and handed me my tray. I stepped forward and took it, and when I turned around Eugene was still waiting for me. My receipt was gone, but in his hand was a wad of cash.

  “Let me pay you,” he said. “Looks like it’s gonna be like this until Tuesday at least, and that’s a lot of cash coming off of your card.” He thrust the money forward. “Especially the way I eat.”

  I briefly considered telling him his cash was close to being useless, but discarded the thought. “Keep it,” I said. “Pay it forward or something. Give some homeless guys some food one day.”

  Eugene surprised me by dropping the cash on my tray. “What makes you think I don’t do that already?” He said with a grin, then spun around and headed for the door.

  “Maybe because you were yelling at the lunch lady?” Mel said in a low voice, stepping up beside me.

  “May
be he was just hungry and cranky,” I said, shrugging.

  “Hangry,” Mel said. “So hungry you’re angry. Christ, woman, get with the times.” She thrust her chin at the cash. “And put that away before someone grabs it.”

  I shoved the cash into my pocket while balancing my tray on one hand. “Let’s go out and find a spot,” I said. “They’ll catch up.”

  We walked outside just in time to see a group of three people leaving their spot under a tree. We headed for it, steering wide around the frat guys who were chanting “Pool party at the PK! Get clean, baby, it’s OK!” while dancing and clapping.

  I sat down with my back against the tree. Mel put her tray down and spread out her skirts as she plopped down facing me, still in the shade.

  “Crap,” I said, looking down at my tray. “With all that drama, I forgot to get a spoon.”

  “Sucks to be you,” Mel said, rolling up a pancake and taking a bite of it. She made a face like she’d just bit into a lemon, covered her mouth, and swallowed hard.

  “These are fake pancakes!” She said, dropping her fluffy roll back onto her plate. I grabbed it and took a bite.

  “Tastes real enough to me,” I said around a mouthful.

  “Not fake fake…instant pancake mix fake,” she said, grabbing the pancake out of my hand.

  “What, you think they’re back there whipping up their usual pancakes, with no milk and no butter?” I said, smiling.

  She pointed at my oatmeal with her pancake tube. “Laugh it up, smartass. I bet that’s instant, too.”

  “Oatmeal usually is,” I said, looking up at the doors to the cafeteria. Corey was holding the door for Marco, and after a minute of confusion, they saw us and headed over.

  “Forget something?” Marco asked, dropping a cellophane-wrapped plastic spoon and a packet of syrup into my lap.

  “Thank you,” I said, opening the syrup packet and drizzling it over my oatmeal. “This gets you off the hook for that comment in the food line.”

  Corey and Marco sat down so that we formed a loose square with our trays in the middle.

  “Okay. Next time, I’ll let the big neanderthal keep hitting on you,” Marco said. He ripped open his own spoon and started digging into his oatmeal.

  “Speaking of which, Rip, you need to stop,” Corey said.

  I paused with a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to my mouth. “Stop what?”

  “Stop giving your shit away,” Corey said. “You gave Leandra your room card so she could have the water that you busted ass to get before it ran out. You gave Josh your address and offered up your house to his whole family.” He was ticking off his fingers as he talked, his voice getting more agitated.

  “You gave Todd your binoculars. Now you just gave that jackass your meal card number.”

  I frowned. “Seriously? We both know the money I put on that meal card is as good as gone,” I said. “And it’s the last time I’ll use it, so why not help somebody get some food?”

  Corey shook his head and opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

  “And Leandra already knew we had the water; what was I supposed to do, just leaving it sitting there locked up when she could use it? I didn’t need it anymore,” I said.

  “But you did need it again,” Corey said. When we had gotten back to the dorm last night, the pallet of water they’d been giving away all day was empty. The four of us had ended up drinking out of the water I’d saved, mixing in some fruity drink powders that Mel kept in her purse.

  “That’s my point,” he continued. “You’re giving this stuff away without thinking that you might need it in the future. You gotta stop thinking like that, Rip. What we’ve got is what we’ve got. We can’t just go buy some more.”

  “I’m not giving it away,” I said, dropping my spoon into my oatmeal. “Todd paid me for the binoculars. That Eugene guy paid me for the meals-“

  “Ooh, that’s right,” Mel said. “How much did he give you?”

  I dug the cash out of my pocket and tossed it to Mel.

  “That money’s worthless now, Rip,” Marco said. “The meal card’s one thing, but I’m with Corey on the binoculars. You shouldn’t have sold them.”

  I threw my hands into the air. “We had two pair of binoculars! He’s got none! How would you guys feel if he got ambushed on the way home and got hurt because he couldn’t scout ahead? My stupid pair of binoculars could’ve saved him, and it would’ve been my fault because I wouldn’t sell them to him when I’ve already got another pair I can use.”

  “It would not be your fault,” Corey said, grabbing one of my hands. “It would be his fault, because he had a pair at home and didn’t bring them.”

  I yanked my hand out of his and pointed to my forearm, where Josh’s HAM sign was still written. “And Josh is one of our best friends. You wouldn’t help him if he needed it?”

  “Thirty bucks,” Mel said, tossing the cash into my lap. “Not bad.”

  “Of course I’d help him if he needed it, Rip, you know that. It’s just-“ He stopped, looking for the right words. I crossed my arms and waited.

  “It’s setting a precedent,” Marco offered.

  Corey shook his head. “Kinda, but that’s not it. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve tried to save every lost or hurt animal we’ve come across. You used to give your lunch to me when things were tight and Grams could only pack a tomato and a carrot for me. You almost lost the chance to buy your Bug because Thomas needed gas money to get to work for the week and you filled up his truck, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to pay you back.”

  “But he did pay me back,” I said. “And he went and talked to Farmer John and asked him to hold the Bug for me for two more weeks because he knew that asshole Bobby was trying to convince John to sell it out from under me.”

  “But things aren’t like that anymore, Rip,” Corey said. He waved a hand, taking in all of the people sitting behind us. “This might look normal, this might look like everything’s fine, but it’s not.” He dropped his arms in his lap and sighed. “Things are different now. They might not know it, but we do. And if you keep giving stuff away, or selling it, you run the risk of someone deciding you’ve got more than you need and they should have some of it.”

  “That you gave it to someone else, so it’s only fair that you give some to them, too,” Marco interjected. “And if you tell them no, they’re gonna take it. They’re going to hurt you, and they’re going to take it.” He looked off to the side, over the crowd of students.

  “They’ll take everything,” he said, his voice soft.

  Mel slid her sunglasses down and eyed Marco. “You keep saying creepy shit like that. Where the hell did you live, anyway?”

  Marco just shook his head.

  Corey patted the thigh pocket on his cargo pants. “These binoculars are all we have now. If we break them, or lose them, we’re SOL until we can get to that cache you made me dig. You sold our backup, Rip. Two is one and one is none, remember?”

  “Oh for Christ’s sake,” Mel said. “Just say it. He thinks you put us all at risk by trying to help someone else. Turned out we needed that water. We might need the binoculars. You might even need the stupid meal card again, if things get fixed faster than y’all say they will. And the cash ain’t worth shit. So quit feeling sorry for people and harden the fuck up.” She pushed her glasses up and rolled up another pancake. “That about cover it?”

  Corey glared at her, then glanced at me and nodded. “Yeah,” he said.

  I stared down into my oatmeal and stirred it absently, my appetite gone. Those had all seemed like little things at the time. Things I wouldn’t actually need, like the binoculars, or was leaving behind anyway, like the water and the meal card. We’d probably never see Josh again, whether he had my address or not. If the power stayed out, traveling 160 miles just to see a friend would be a thing of the past. Each of those things had made sense at the time, but listed off like that, I could see how I was still stuck in a mentality that said everything wa
s still normal. But everything still seemed normal, didn’t it?

  No, I thought. You’re just ignoring the bad stuff. Drinking and washing out of a bucket. Using the porta-potties. The guys sleeping in your room. Soldiers guarding the campus. The cafeteria being out of fresh food and limiting water. It’s bad here. You’re just pretending that it isn’t.

  I sighed and stuffed a spoonful of now-cold oatmeal in my mouth. Even with the syrup, it was a tasteless paste, but I swallowed it down anyway. Oats were good food for lasting energy, and I’d need that this afternoon when we were walking.

  A red Terrapins baseball cap dropped into Mel’s lap and we all jumped.

  “Hide your hair and meet me at the north door to the dorm in ten minutes,” Todd said, not stopping. He walked all the way to the back of the crowd then turned, skirting the outer edge of it and shading his eyes as if he were looking for someone.

  “What the fuck?” Mel said, jamming the hat onto her head. “Has he gone nuts?”

  “Casually look up on the stairs,” Marco said, leaning back onto his arms and staring up into the tree branches.

  I braced my arm behind me and twisted, as if I was trying to get a kink out of my back.