That left one possibility: Cleveland. She reasoned that if the mayor wanted her locked up, he would have done it in Lehigh. Carla decided quickly that if that was what was about to happen, she would make it loud and ugly. She didn't know if the police would stand with him or maybe support her. She was almost one of them. But she had no choice but to try.

  The large black man named Hightower from the previous day met her at the door. He looked her over approvingly. A lone toothpick held loosely in the corner of his mouth. "Well, damn! You're still alive," he said. The man seemed genuinely surprised, "You defied the odds, girl. And you must have made quite an impression on Mayor Cleveland."

  Carla was only slightly surprised at the sound of the man's name. Obviously, she'd been right as for the reason of the summons. Now she braced herself to hear what punishment he had in mind for her outburst.

  "Yeah, wanted to speak with you about that," Officer Hightower said.

  "Look, I know I said some things," she began defensively.

  "It must've worked...seems like he is quite taken with you," Hightower chuckled and motioned to the other man who had escorted her to the station. "Bring it in." The other man nodded and disappeared.

  "I'm sorry," Carla said, perplexed. "I'm not entirely sure what's going on."

  "The mayor himself and his entourage came by the station a few hours ago asking about you." He motioned back to the other man to come on in. "He wanted you to have this."

  It was a box of food; she could see all manner of dried goods as well as fresh fruit and eggs. Carla wasn't sure she'd ever seen so much in one place in months. She was so hungry, her mouth began salivating at the sight.

  She noticed a cream-colored envelope on top of the box. She grabbed it and opened it.

  Ms. Garcia,

  First and foremost, I apologize for my behavior yesterday. The pressures of leading a city have taken their toll on me. Still, that is no explanation for my impolite behavior toward you and your friend.

  I was pleased by your willingness to work on behalf of your people. That kind of dedication is rare, and I'm sure they look up to you. I'd get a lot further in life if I had more folks like you on my side.

  Which leads me to my next point. My team is always looking for new talent to help me out. I believe you would be an excellent addition to our ensemble. In exchange for your services, I'm confident we can form a trade agreement through which your neighborhood will receive regular supplies.

  If you think my offer is appealing, please come to the office tomorrow to discuss it further. Use the enclosed pass to enter, our guards will stand down when they see it.

  I feel we may all benefit greatly from this cooperation. I'm hoping to hear from you shortly.

  Yours sincerely, Jeremiah Cleveland, Mayor

  "I must confess, I am quite jealous," the top guard said grudgingly. "There aren't many people who can win points with the mayor like that. I would seriously consider accepting his offer. Shit, girl, you'd be crazy not to."

  Carla reached in and handed Hightower an apple and several packs of some beef jerky that was lying atop the rest. The man made a move to decline but then gratefully took it. He looked at the shiny apple, lost for a moment. "What we are all willing to do for food now is scary. Be careful...whatever it is he is offering. The cost may be more than you're are willing to pay."

  "He has tons of supplies." Carla said.

  The man shook his head, then took a bite of the apple. The look of pleasure washed over him as some of the juice trickled down his chin. "Food is power, Carla. You may dislike the man, but don't ever underestimate him."

  She had no plans to but was immediately curious as to what Carson’s take on this might be. He'd been there too. Would any of this make sense to him? "I really need to talk to my partner about this," she said.

  "Good luck," Hightower said. "He turned the rest of his stuff in yesterday. Guess patrolling isn't for him."

  Carla wasn't surprised and remembered he'd said he was quitting, and that was before the fight last night. She thought he was still coping with the aftermath of Chelsea's meltdown; no telling what else he might have to do to appease her. Whatever his plan was, it probably meant staying as far away from Carla as possible. Hard to do when they were neighbors.

  The note made no mention of Carson, so it was safe to presume that the offer was limited to her and her alone. That meant once again putting herself out there for her friends and family. But she couldn't deny she had a responsibility to them all.

  "OK," she replied. "Tell him I'll see him tomorrow."

  "Will do," Hightower answered, finishing off the apple. "Good luck miss...and thanks!"

  She walked back to her street, using a rolling cart she found to haul the case of food. She kept going over the note in her head. Hightower was right, food was power, and accepting this gift had just given Cleveland leverage over her. How much was the question?

  Chapter Twenty

  Carla realized she couldn't handle all this alone. She needed to tell someone about Cleveland's proposal.

  Naturally, Carson was her first thought; she had no doubt he would have helped her make sense of it. But the mayor's proposition was intended solely for her. Should she risk the mayor's fury by sharing it with him? Plus, she had to let Carson have his space. He had to deal with his own problems right now. He didn't need more from her.

  Her thoughts then wandered to Joshua. She felt she could tell him anything. After all, he had been supportive of her affair with Carson, even if he had not approved of it. Carla told herself she couldn't inform Joshua of the proposal because she wanted… no needed to keep him safe. And if she told him, he'd make her turn it down. And she didn't think she wanted to do that. She really needed to discuss it with someone. Someone who could serve as a confidant. Someone who would go unnoticed by the mayor.

  She looked up to see Meredith peering out her bedroom window, as if in response to her thoughts. Carla did wonder why Meredith was continually glancing out the window, searching for something.

  She climbed the stairs as she entered the house. The two hadn't spoken since the event with the pills, so she couldn't gauge her sister's feelings for her. She entered the room carrying the fruit basket and yelled, "Heads up," before hurling a peach at Meredith.

  Meredith dodged out of the way as the peach landed next to her on her pillow. "Surprising," Carla commented. "Despite your foresight, you did not see that coming."

  "It doesn't work like that," Meredith grumbled as she picked up the peach and began to eat it. The look of joy spreading across her face nearly made up Carla's mind for her. "Where did you get the fruit from?" she asked in between bites.

  "That's what I wanted to talk about," Carla said as she walked up to the bed and sat at the foot of it, keeping a safe distance from her sister. "The mayor has made me an offer." He has urged me to come and work for him, and in exchange—we get more food."

  "Is this one of those ‘sell your soul to the devil' kinds of deals?" Meredith asked, finishing the peach off with surprising speed. She licked down her arm where the sweet nectar had oozed out.

  "I don't know," Carla said. "However, I need to be able to talk to someone about it, or I'll go insane. So, you've got to promise me you're not going to tell anyone about this, okay?"

  Meredith was silent for a brief period. "Why should I keep it quiet?" she finally asked.

  "Excuse me?" Carla asked, surprised.

  "I wanted you to believe me about your future, but you wouldn't," Meredith explained. "You all thought I was the crazy sister who no one should listen to. So why should I keep this secret for you?"

  Carla regained her steely determination and stated, "Because I have cared for you day in and day out since Mom and Dad died. I didn't always get you, but I tried to be there for you since you were my sister and my obligation. I was the one who stood by you when you lost your job. When Grandma started losing it, I was the one who stepped up to attempt to keep everything running. And now it appears that I will be the one who must sell her soul just to put bread on the table. I don't expect you to be grateful to me, Meredith. However, it wouldn't hurt to acknowledge it occasionally. I don't believe it's too much to ask for a small favor from you, do you?"

  The older sister didn't like using guilt to manipulate her sister, but she hoped there was room for a spark of appreciation somewhere down in the maze of Meredith's mind.

  "OK," Meredith finally responded, much to Carla's relief. "I'll keep your secret, only if you keep mine."

  "What kind of a secret is that?" Carla asked cautiously. "You don't have a guy hidden under your bed, do you?" Meredith had taken to sneaking her adoring guests into her room to read their fortunes, and Carla was inclined to check the room herself just to be sure.

  "Oh, no," Meredith responded, her smile frightening Carla despite the assurance it should have conveyed. Meredith rose from her bed and extended her hand to Carla. "Come along with me, and I'll show you."

  Carla couldn't help but notice the switch in roles. She was always the one who tried to persuade her sister to trust her. She had no choice but to take her sister's hand and follow Meredith downstairs and out back to the shed by the garden. Carla was terrified the entire time of what Meredith was taking her to see. Her heart raced as they neared the small building. What has my crazy sister done now?

  "I always come down here for a little privacy," Meredith explained as she took out a key and opened the lock. "That... and some other things…"

  Meredith yanked the doors open before Carla could realize what she was saying. Inside were shelves full of canned food, crackers, dry goods, and bottled water; every type of sustenance they would require to survive. Meredith entered the shed and opened a mini freezer, revealing a variety of meats, fruits, and veggies. There was extremely little space to move about. Meredith had turned the shed into her personal food pantry. Carla wondered if she had ever plundered a delivery service when she had gone away by herself.

  “How…” Carla started to ask, unable to fathom the scene in front of her and wondering whether she had begun hallucinating. "How long have you been storing this stuff for?"

  "A while now," Meredith replied. "Long enough to see us through the end of the world. We could live off of this for months while the rest of the world went hungry and died. You provide for the family, but I have prepared us for the end of the world.

  "Carla, I really have seen the future. I've seen hordes of robots rise up against us. I've seen vines engulfing the landscape and killing everything in their path." Carla almost wanted to believe her when she stated the words with such conviction.

  "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye," Meredith said, holding Carla's hands as if urging her to pray with her. "But I love you, Carla, and I promise you that I will never let anything bad happen to you."

  Carla desperately wanted to believe Meredith for the first time since her illness began.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "Well, if I’m hallucinating. I really hope it doesn't stop."

  Joshua was peering into the shed, open-mouthed, at the contents.

  Despite Meredith's wishes to keep it private, Carla felt she couldn't keep this to herself. This was too big a secret for her.

  But if she told anyone else about the shed, human vultures would fall on it like a downed carcass. She would have approached Carson, but then she'd have to worry about it reaching Chelsea. As a result, Joshua was the only one she could rely on.

  And she was relieved to have someone to share the burden with as Joshua stared into the shed, speechless. "This is some serious long-term planning, even for Meredith," he added.

  "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised," Carla said. "She spends most of her time thinking about the future; it only makes sense that she would be planning for it."

  Joshua looked at the shed, obviously attempting to figure out if he was hallucinating. "How in the world did she do it all? No offense to your sister, but it's difficult to see her going into town."

  "While I was still working, Meredith was the one doing the grocery orders," Carla explained. "It was one of the only things I felt like I could trust her with." Knowing how handicapped Meredith had become as a result of her illness, she felt a sense of regret for that final bit.

  "It must have taken her months to accumulate all of this stuff," Joshua remarked. "This is what's going to save us all." He looked at Carla. "How come you're telling me this?"

  "I felt... as if I needed to confess."

  "I'm pretty sure there's still a priest out there who could fill that role," Joshua remarked.

  Carla stated, "I needed to share this with someone... because I feel guilty. Everyone in this town is starving, and the children are turning into skin and bones. And now we have a mini-mart in the shed." She averted her gaze from the food, as if she couldn't look at it without feeling guilty. "How am I supposed to look people in the eyes, knowing what we've got back here?"

  Joshua rested his hand on her shoulder. "You're always thinking about other people rather than yourself. It's one of the many things I lo...like about you," he replied, hoping Carla didn't notice the slip. "However, don't overwork yourself. Carla, it's turning into a dog-eat-dog world. First and foremost, we must look after ourselves. I apologize if that comes across as cynical." When Joshua noticed Carla was still skeptical, he asked, "Do you think they would do the same for you if it was the other way around? Because Chelsea certainly wouldn't, and most of the others wouldn’t either."

  "But I have a responsibility to help these people," Carla stated emphatically.

  “Why? Why should it be your responsibility? You agreed to take on those obligations. You were willing to take the initiative and step forward. That’s the issue with leaders. People can spend so much time waiting for someone else to help them that they never think about how to save themselves. People in charge have the ability to make us all complacent...dependent.” Joshua saw that his friend wasn't as convinced. "Are there other ways to help the community other than feeding them?"

  "Like… like what?" Carla asked. "What exactly do you have in mind, Saint Joshua?"

  "We can protect the children and train adults to defend themselves. I'm not sure, Carla," Joshua admitted honestly. "However, I know this. Your sister took a big risk in telling you about this stash. She may never speak to you again if she learns that you've told me. Meredith is unquestionably the type to retreat back into her own world, that protective shell she surrounds herself with. Believe me, that's what hurts the most when it comes to family. When they quit talking to you, not when they lash out."

  Carla couldn't disagree. She remembered how many times Meredith had shut down and stopped talking to her. That hurt her more than anything Meredith could have said. "Keep the peace for now," Joshua advised. "That's all you've got. We'll figure out another way to serve our people...something that doesn't involve martyrdom."

  She liked the sentiment but wondered if she would have to compromise herself in any case because of the possible arrangement with the mayor. She just couldn't bring herself to tell Joshua. She was worried that he would never look at her the same way again.

  Carla and Joshua were looking at the shed and failed to notice Chelsea staring at them through slits in the privacy fence.

  Chelsea had a deep-seated hatred of her neighbor, an almost inhuman dislike for Carla since they'd first met. Now she had even more reason to hate her. The woman was not just screwing her husband, they were hoarding food. Carla must have been stealing it for weeks. Her kids were going hungry, while the Garcias had more than anyone.

  She recalled the birth of her daughter Rachel. Carson happily held his infant daughter in his arms. When he handed her back to Chelsea, though, she sensed a distinct disconnect from the infant; as though there was a barrier between her and the child. Her husband said it was postpartum, the famed baby blues, which would pass in a day or two. Instead, it had continued for months. Carson had finally convinced her to get out of the house, and that was when the book club got going. More like a group of women, mostly mothers, drinking wine and complaining about their husbands more than anything literary, but it had helped.

  But that was when Carla started babysitting the kids. She brought out a sense of playfulness and delight in Rachel that Chelsea couldn't. She had tried to compensate for this by engaging in play sessions of her own, but it never seemed to click with the youngsters. It was far too late. As a result, Chelsea had always suspected Carla of stealing her daughter's love. That love should have been hers.

  And she had long suspected Carson and Carla of having an affair, but she wanted to pretend she was mistaken. Carson would never betray her so easily. But she couldn't keep her eyes from seeing reality any longer.

  This woman was taking her children, her husband, and possibly their life. And Chelsea vowed to make her pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mayor Cleveland was standing on the opposite side of the room, giving Carla a disgusted look.

  "I'm so glad you could make it," the mayor remarked cheerfully, his voice not as hostile as it had been the previous time.

  Carla had gone over her options numerous times, evaluating the benefits and drawbacks of donating her soul vs. assisting the townspeople. It was either the risk of incriminating herself or the certainty of the townspeople going hungry.

  Carla reasoned that she should at least hear him out. Learn what he expected of her. "Well, it wasn't like I had much of a choice."

  The mayor took a step forward. "May I offer you something to drink? We have some extremely fine wine down in the basement that I can have brought up."

  "No, thank you," Carla respectfully said. "I'm a bit of a lightweight, and I prefer to keep my wits about me when I'm on the clock."