And there it was again, that tiny truth, that sense of kinship that had drawn her to Carson in the first place. He wasn’t wrong. They were both running away from something as much as they'd been running to each other.

  "We can never go back to being lovers," she stated emphatically.

  "I know," he murmured, smiling hopefully. "But can we at least be friends?"

  Chapter Sixteen

  The roads were packed with people, most walking in single lines, the closest Carla had seen to mass order since the strike. The sheer volume of people let her know she wasn't the only one thinking Lehigh held the answers of a better tomorrow.

  A few miles outside of the small town they found themselves waiting in that same long line at a guarded barricade. Many of the people passed through with a nod. Those seemed to be regulars; they all shambled and held on to all manner of possessions.

  Carson and Carla made it to the front of the line about an hour later. They were met by a man dressed in riot gear, as if waiting for the daily mayhem to erupt. "Yeah, what's your business in Lehigh? He directed his question at Carla, while making notes on a datatab and yelling orders at someone behind him.

  "We'd like to speak with the mayor," Carla said in as strong a voice as she could manage.

  "The mayor isn't taking any appointments for a while," the guard said, motioning for the next in line to move forward. He then looked at Carla and Carson and added, "Look, we've already screwed ourselves by taking in too many refugees. We can't afford to take in anyone else. All the rest of this lot will go to Vineland."

  "We're not refugees," Carla said, denying the assumed accusation. "We just need to speak with the mayor, in an official capacity," she said again, the only thing she could think of.

  Carson also chimed in. "I worked with Mayor Cleveland before, you know...before he was mayor and all," he explained, a big PR grin on his face.

  He was given a sidelong glance by the guard. "Mayor Cleveland has employed a number of people in a variety of positions. I doubt he'll recall you directly."

  Carson nodded reluctantly. The man had already started questioning the next man in line. Whatever other arguments Carla had to make were abandoned.

  She walked back toward the line of homeless heading toward the wooded fields of Vineland. The stench of the mass of unwashed bodies was overwhelming. "Screw this," she said as she rode her bike around the barricade, much to the guard's surprise. Carson soon followed suit.

  Several of the guards tried to catch them, all were screaming insults, and one shot tore up the road beside them, but they cleared the next rise and were quickly out of sight.

  "Let's hope we don't see him again," Carson said with a nervous laugh.

  "We do still have to go back by them," Carla said, but recalled that the outbound foot traffic seemed to be mostly ignored by those manning the blockade.

  The small-town square looked mostly like she'd remembered it, maybe a bit more beat down, fewer cars around, but a surprising number of stores seemed open. People walked the streets and other than a few security people, she saw no one else that was armed. That was rare these days.

  "You ready for this?" Carson asked.

  She nodded and pushed her bike up the steps of City Hall and into the foyer. Neither trusted the bikes would be there when they returned, especially if they left them outside.

  They didn't have to look far to find Mayor Cleveland's office. But what they saw as they opened the doors astonished them. The space was filled with everything imaginable, correction, everything that was in short supply everywhere else.

  The entire space felt like a time capsule. A candlelit conference table, mahogany furniture, and scarlet carpets. In a richly paneled boardroom off to one side, a portly man was digging into a large, delicious-looking steak. Carla felt her stomach growling at the mere thought of it.

  Mayor Cleveland raised his eyes at the two intruders. In between munching, he asked, "What are y'all doing in here? Kincaid!" he yelled to someone.

  Carson attempted to portray a kind employee. "Mister Mayor," he introduced himself, "it's great to see you again. I collaborated with you on..."

  Carla, on the other hand, was way past polite behavior. "An entire town is starving out there," she replied, her voice soft as ever but her rage apparent. "Children will go to bed hungry, again tonight. And then there's you, sitting there all high and mighty at the end of the world, sipping your wine and devouring a steak for lunch."

  The mayor rose slowly to his feet. "It's a very good steak, though." He smiled. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste just because someone else's kids didn't eat. How does my eating or not affect the rest of the world?"

  "You're taking advantage of the people," she yelled. She knew this was going off the rails, but damn, the scene had flipped every breaker in her system.

  "Security!" he yelled. “Where is Kincaid?”

  "Carson, the door," Carla said, her gaze fixed on the mayor and his meal.

  Carson slammed the door shut and bolted it.

  She hoped to see a hint of fear on the mayor's face. But he kept his cool as he eased himself back down in his chair. The man had probably spent a lifetime swimming in shark-infested seas of politics and business.

  "It appears you have me as a captive audience, miss," he replied, dabbing his mouth with a delicate napkin and tossing it on the table. "So, why don't you tell me exactly what you really want?"

  "Maybe you can shed some light on a few things," Carla suggested. "Like why you've stopped the flow of supplies to the food banks in the city."

  "Ah, you're from the city. I see, yes. Well, resources are scarce," Cleveland replied, sounding perfectly fair and justified. "We're going to have to rely on rations to get by."

  "You seem to be doing pretty well," Carla commented, referring to the man's meal.

  In response to the insult, Cleveland nodded, "I am the beating heart of this city." Without me, the entire system crumbles. That was one of the problems with the last mayor!"

  "Funny you should mention him," Carla said, becoming engrossed in this verbal chess game. "What happened to Chavez?"

  Cleveland appeared momentarily put off by the question, but quickly recovered. "Our previous leader was tragically lost on Last Day."

  Carla knew she could make different references to the previous mayor's demise, but she remembered she was here for a reason.

  "Why are your people turning away and even attacking refugees from the city?" she demanded.

  "I'm guessing these people were..." Cleveland looked Carla up and down, before making a tactless answer, "Non-Americans?"

  "Excuse me?" Carla couldn't believe what she had just heard.

  "You come over here with a sense of entitlement, leaching away at our resources."

  "I was born and raised here!" Carla exclaimed with such zeal that Cleveland wondered whether he had possibly pushed her too far.

  "I helped treat some of those people your men attacked. They weren’t rioters intent on destroying everything. They only wanted to feed their families!”

  "That's not my problem," Cleveland responded, taking a forkful of steak and stuffing it into the open maw of his mouth. Carla wondered whether this was a display of power.

  "You're supposed to be mayor! That must be within your capabilities!"

  "I can only provide so much! However, I do not provide favors to foreigners who come uninvited and interrupt by day. Who do you think you are to come in here and make demands on me? You are trespassing on an important American landmark. How many rights do you really have?"

  Carla said, "You think we'll be the last people to show up on your doorstep?" When news comes out that you're stockpiling all the goods for yourself, an entire crowd will descend on your home!"

  She hoped that by threatening Cleveland, he would comply. Instead, he returned his focus to his meal, taking a hearty drink from the wineglass. "That would be a monumental mistake on their part."

  Before Carla could ask him what he meant, the doors sprang open, and a tall, well-dressed man entered surrounded by security. The guards poured into the room.

  “Mister Kincaid, please escort these two off the premises," Cleveland muttered, finally tearing his gaze away from them. "You're lucky, young lady I don't also charge you for the damage to the doors."

  Carla recognized Kincaid as the man who used to top off the credits each week. She turned back to Cleveland, not about to give up without a fight. But as she looked at the heavily armed men, she wondered how far they'd go, what they'd probably already done in Cleveland's name, and she knew they'd have no problem killing her or Carson and dismissing it as collateral damage.

  She raised her arms and reluctantly allowed the soldiers to lead them out of the room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "What in the hell were you thinking back there?" Carson was furious with Carla. Both were anxious to get back to the relative safety of their own neighborhood.

  "I, I know...I just couldn't let it go. I mean, the shit he was saying!" Carla said, trying to defend herself. "I wanted him to know we were serious! We have to stand up to bullies like Cleveland."

  "With what, our non-existent army?" Carson asked, "Carla, this isn’t your high school. Bullies don’t get sent to the principal’s office, they instead make the rules now. Most of the people alive around us have no fight left in them. We are all malnourished, and some are just children. Like my children!" he exclaimed. "Are you going to lead Rachel and Ryan into war, with the mayor?"

  She was ashamed of herself, not for her anger or the idle threats she'd made. She had been so offended by the pig of a man. She just wanted him silenced. In doing so, she'd likely lost their only hope of getting anything out of Lehigh.

  "We both know Cleveland is not above dispatching his goon squad to deal with people who irritate him! What are we going to do if he decides to bring this fight to our doorstep?"

  "He doesn't know who we are. I never gave him a name."

  "Grow up, Carla. You are wearing a CP uniform shirt. You let him know you worked at the clinic, too. He'll know exactly who both of us are by the time the sun sets."

  Carla prayed that would not be the case. She desperately hoped none of that mattered. She knew now, she would have to live with the possibility of recriminations hanging over her head. As if she didn't have enough other shit to deal with already.

  She would be grateful to be back home, surrounded by the safety of friends, family, and familiar surroundings.

  "You filthy, lying sacks of shit!"

  Carla ducked fast to avoid something coming at her face. It nearly knocked her off her bike. She turned to face her attacker, already seeing another object coming toward her. She caught this one as it went by. A white baseball.

  Chelsea stood in the middle of the road, tears streaming down her mascara-streaked face, while both her kids stood on either side of her. Both kids’ expressions were stark terror, unsure of what was going on, but their mother's anger let them know something bad was happening.

  "Oh, you fucking bitch!" Chelsea yelled, charging at Carla as she hurriedly dropped off her bike and rolled into the sparse lawn. "I ought to fucking kill you both!"

  “Chelsea!” Carson yelled, sprinting over to place his body between Chelsea and Carla. "For God's sake, what's wrong with you? Don't do this, especially not in front of the kids! You're scaring them."

  "Why not!" his wife yelled, attempting to shove by him like a caged lion. Her sole focus was getting to Carla. "Don't they deserve to know that you ran off again with that whore! Again!" Chelsea pointed an accusatory finger toward her. Carla always knew this day was coming, but she was exhausted and had zero fucks to give for it today.

  Chelsea was unconcerned if Carla fought back or not. "Why?" she yelled, her voice suddenly sounding pleading. "In this Godforsaken dumpster fire of a world, I mean, shit, you could have anyone you wanted! Why did you feel the need to fuck this guy...my guy...their dad?"

  Carla turned to Carson. "Handle this." She began walking away from the scene and toward her own front door. The sound of running feet racing up behind her was no surprise. Carla had been on edge all day, prepared for attacks. This one from the neighborhood bully barely registered. She gauged the distance, then quickly leaned far to her left, only leaving one leg outstretched, which Chelsea promptly hit running full speed, launching herself face first down into the dirt.

  Carla was apologetic and sincerely regretted the pain she'd caused Carson’s family, but she didn't deserve the girl’s wrath for anything they'd done today. Chelsea was a shallow, petty woman, mostly unworthy of her husband and children. Still, Carla felt pity for her as she saw her now, sobbing and bleeding in her husband's arms.

  He ushered Chelsea and the kids inside, leaving Carla standing on the edge of her yard. She could see the silhouette of other people watching from their own homes. People she'd been trying to help, now they all were judging her.

  "Are you all right?" Joshua said, coming out of the house. He could see she was exhausted, both emotionally and physically.

  Carla shrugged; it had been another very long day.

  "I take it she knows..."

  "Seems to, yes. Chelsea believes Carson and I were doing something today or planning to run off together or something. I don’t know."

  Joshua grimaced slightly. "It's not too much of a stretch. You are seeing him, right?"

  Carla locked her gaze on him. "Is this the part where you say, I told you so?”

  "I'm not looking to judge," Joshua explained calmly. "I'm your friend, Carla, always."

  "Well, if it's any comfort, we're not seeing each other anymore," Carla said. "We ended it a few days ago. It was a mutual decision."

  "Good," Joshua murmured, a little too quickly. "I'm glad you guys came to your senses."

  "I wouldn't say that," Carla responded, thinking back on her pissing off the mayor. "I believe I just found someone even worse to make an enemy."

  "Well, then, why don't you come back to the garden and tell me about it," Joshua said, motioning for her to follow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The two walked behind the house to Maria's garden, where she was busy working something into or out of the ground. Carla saw Maria's precision and care as she worked, which she hadn't seen in a long time and assumed she'd never see again.

  "I heard that people with Alzheimer's can sometimes improve when placed in familiar situations," Joshua said quietly to her. "Seems to be similar to muscle memory."

  Carla nodded. "Good thinking," she said as she quietly moved closer to Maria, "So, what are you up to, Grandma?"

  "Trying to figure out what these damn thistle things are. They are everywhere!" She pinched something between her fingers and flicked it off into the weeds outside the tilled soil.

  "Joshua has been helping me plant some vegetables. We have squash, okra, some beans, mainly hot weather stuff. It's a little late but better than waiting around any longer."

  Carla realized she had misjudged her grandmother. Carla had had that same determination and iron will for so long that she had almost forgotten where it came from.

  "How long will it take to grow them?" Carla asked, wanting to believe Maria's renewed clarity and optimism but needing a reality check.

  "Well, if your boy there can be trusted, maybe just a month or so."

  Joshua chuckled, "They are some of the new radical hybrid seeds. Supposedly drought tolerant and very fast-growing. Basically, mutant crops."

  She didn't much care for his phrasing, but Carla could readily see the benefits of growing food in the garden for themselves and maybe the neighbors. At the very least, it might help them cope with food bank shortcomings. Mostly, she was glad that apparently Maria had ignored the ugly scene next door.

  "So, where's Meredith?" Carla asked, bending down to help pull some of the weeds and creeping vines from the row Maria was planting.

  Joshua shrugged. "I did ask her to help. But she seemed preoccupied with those damn cards."

  "Of course," Carla stated flatly. She and Meredith hadn't spoken since their disagreement in the bedroom.

  "What about you, dear?" Maria asked. "How was your day?"

  It was unbelievably refreshing to hear Maria sounding like her old self. Obviously, the medicines Betty had given her had helped.

  Still, Carla despised admitting her carelessness and poor judgment today. But if Mayor Cleveland planned to follow through on his plans, both Maria and Joshua should know. Carla told them about the meeting with the Mayor.

  She braced for the coming backlash from her grandmother. She already knew how dumb she'd been and that she'd likely put them all in danger.

  Maria, on the other hand, beamed. "I'm so proud of you, Carla."

  "You are?" Carla asked, unsure if Maria was mentally processing what she had said or not.

  "I am," Maria stated emphatically. "When I first came to this country as a young girl, I learned a lot of things, but the most important lesson of all is that you have to fight for what is right and for what is yours. Anyone who makes this place home should be willing to fight to help make it better, even when it's uncomfortable. You are strong, and you are wise, Carla Garcia. If your parents were here now, they'd say the same thing."

  Carla could feel the tears welling up and made no effort to suppress them. Instead, she sobbed into Joshua's arms and let him hold her, allowing those long-repressed feelings to sweep over her. She hugged Maria as well, then looked up to see Meredith staring at them from the bedroom window. Her face was a mask of hurt and something even darker.

  Chapter Nineteen

  One of the patrol officers summoned Carla to the police station early the next day. Her first thought was Chelsea had sworn out a complaint, but even she knew they didn't concern themselves with stupid shit like domestic squabbles anymore. Hell, no one even cared about murder anymore.