She and Carson would normally rummage through deserted homes for any usable provisions. Things such as nourishment or pharmaceuticals, they kept for themselves and their loved ones. However, if they discovered anything of worth, they relinquished it to their civil patrol liaison in order to get additional food vouchers. The system was crudely effective on occasion, but truthfully at present, there was not much available even in the reserve stockpiles the municipality possessed. In two weeks, it was the best system they'd come up with to redistribute food and supplies.

  Carla walked up to the front porch and looked at the small InterLock terminal on the side of the door. The P-cells in these things must last forever, she thought. Or the power is back on today. She moved her eye close to the terminal for a retinal scan, which gave a small klaxon sound as it flashed red several times.

  It frustrated her but wasn’t a surprise. After all the times she had babysat for the kids, she had hoped that by now, Carson’s wife would have added her to the access list for the house. Chelsea was an odd bird, though. One that had no interest in sharing anything, including a kind word for a neighbor.

  If she only knew…Carla’s mouth curved into a brief smile as the InterLock signaled green. Someone inside had deactivated the lock.

  The door clicked open, and a young girl of about five stood in the doorway, her face instantly brightening at the sight of Carla. “Mommy, Daddy!” she squealed excitedly. “Carla’s here!” at which point she grabbed Carla’s hand, taking it in her two smaller ones. “Come and see what I’ve been doing!”

  Carla allowed the little girl to drag her into the kitchen where their NannyBot stood at the table. NannyBots were low-grade robots designed for the sole purpose of monitoring and entertaining children. Carla’s family had considered getting one for Meredith when she was younger, but as a small girl, she was highly afraid that the NannyBot would want to kill her. Some of the horror movies back then loved that theme. That, plus later on, their grandmother’s innate fear of robotic technology made it a non-starter.

  This one was as docile as they came, covered from chest panel to base in an array of cartoon stickers, undoubtedly from one of the little girl’s sticker books. Carla saw the bot was in low-power standby mode, its systems actively recharging.

  “That’s very nice, Rachel,” said Carla. “What are you going to do when you run out of space?”

  Before Rachel could answer, Chelsea entered the kitchen. “Hello, Carla,” she said in the same unpleasant tone you might use when addressing a rodent rooting through your garden.

  In an instant, the child’s cheery mood ebbed away. “Sweetheart, Mommy has put your favorite cartoons on the holo for you. Why don’t you go and watch a few of them while the grown-ups talk?”

  “But I want to stay here with Carla!” whined Rachel in a petulant tone that somewhat reminded Carla of Meredith.

  “You’re my daughter, you do as I say!” Chelsea suddenly snapped in a way that took everyone except possibly the NannyBot by surprise. “We have power today. Go take advantage of it.”

  Rachel stood there defiantly, hands on hips.

  Carla, sensing the tension crackling like a live wire in the air, crouched to Rachel's level. Her voice, a soothing murmur against the backdrop of raised voices, offered a compromise. "How about you listen to your mommy, sweetie? Later, you can spill every little detail about the cartoons to me, okay?" Her eyes held a promise, a small beacon of calm in the gathering storm that was Chelsea Adams.

  Rachel smiled, wrapping her arms around Carla, and just for a moment, Carla was scared to return the hug, almost wishing that the little girl was her own. And then Rachel turned and walked away, without even turning to look at her mom.

  Carla caught the flash of anger in the other woman’s eyes as she looked up. Chelsea was clearly hurt by the lack of affection from her own daughter. Affection that was clearly reserved for her babysitter.

  In what Carla now knew to be typical of her neighbor, Chelsea decided to use what little leverage she had. “She’s not your daughter, you know,” the mother said spitefully. “If you love them so much, why don’t you just have kids of your own?”

  This question burned Carla more than she wanted to acknowledge. She adored kids, and that was part of what had drawn her into teaching. She’d love to be able to have a family of her own one day. But she had her own priorities to think about with her grandmother and her sister. And even if she didn’t have to worry about them, who would want to bring a child into the world now?

  But Chelsea knew all of this. She was just rubbing salt into the wound. No, Carla thought, she was just being a bitch.

  Before Carla could offer a response, Carson appeared in the doorway. He read his wife’s expression and correctly gauged the temperature in the room. “Carla,” he said. “Morning. I’m just getting a few things together, and we can head out.”

  Chelsea gripped her husband firmly by the shoulder, vice-like. “Why do you have to go?” she moaned. “Why can’t you just stay here with me? You know how it is out there.”

  “Honey,” Carson said, “it’s a job. One we have to do just to make sure we have all the things we need.”

  “The government will bring help,” insisted Chelsea, her voice shrill and grating. “I don’t see why you have to take the risk and do this every day.” She cut her eyes at Carla, her pretty features twisting into an ugly scowl, as if to silently add, 'With her, that home-wrecking slut.'

  Carla tensed, biting her tongue to hold back the torrent of curses she longed to unleash on the insufferable woman. Chelsea had always been petty and jealous, but her behavior had grown worse since the blackout. The posh housewife clung desperately to her delusions of normalcy while the world crumbled around them. She couldn't accept that her gilded life was over.

  "We can't rely on the government, honey, not anymore," Carson said gently. "They have their hands full in the major cities. Out here, we're on our own." He checked his watch, shifting impatiently. "I need to get going if I'm going to make it back before dark."

  Chelsea's lower lip quivered. For a moment, Carla thought she might burst into tears. But the blonde simply spun on her heel and stormed from the room, leaving a tense silence in her wake.

  “We don’t know when they’re coming,” said Carson. “We could be waiting for a while, and well...we have kids who need food today.”

  Wanting to offer the man an exit, Carla suggested, “Why doesn’t Chelsea come with us? Get a taste of the outside? The NannyBot could keep an eye on the little ones for a while.”

  As predicted, Chelsea quickly said, “No, no…you’re right. Someone’s got to stay here and look after the kiddos. The bot’s not charged yet, anyway.”

  Which, to Carla, translated to making her kids’ lives miserable. “If you’re sure,” said Carla, just glad to be getting away from the ghastly woman. And with that, the two patrol officers were out for morning rounds.

  Today, they walked down the road. In a past life, they would have ridden on hoverbikes or taken their autocars to work, but with most of the city’s technology knocked out of commission, they had to get wherever they needed to go on foot.

  As they walked, Carson looked over at Carla from time to time. Finally, he said, “Carla, I wondered if you wanted to talk about yester...”

  “If I want therapy, I’ll go find a working autodoc, thank you,” said Carla, more sharply than she had intended.

  Carson accepted the rebuke although it clearly stung. They soon stopped at a deserted house on a corner of two small streets. There were no signs of broken windows or vandalism. But the family had clearly moved on.

  “You know,” said Carson, a sly grin on his face. “I bet they have a master bedroom.”

  Carla looked at him differently. She knew she had hurt his feelings. Now maybe she could make it up to him. “Your seduction talk could really do with some work,” she teased.

  Carson held out an outstretched hand. “Maybe I can take your mind off all your problems for a while.”

  She smiled; this was what she looked forward to most days. Carla took his hand and allowed him to lead her into the house.

  She was aware that there would be consequences for her actions, just as there always were. Days of remorse and embarrassment awaited, as they did after each encounter. Sex between willing grown-ups was no longer the scandal it had been for past generations, not since her grandmother's time, but the old-fashioned values still held sway in the Garcia home, and she was violating a fundamental rule. Yet Damn, it felt so fucking good.

  Chapter Four

  During the search of the houses, Carson found only a few cans of food and some toys, which he decided to take home for his children. The intimate rendezvous with Carla had not improved his mood either, and she seemed to be replaying the unpleasant events from the previous day in her mind. The rest of the patrol went on without problems, but the two officers stayed absorbed in their own thoughts.

  She sat down later in the shade of a weathered oak, its gnarled branches twisting up toward the relentless sun. Resting her back against the rough bark, she tried the comms again, static hissing in her earpiece as she turned the dials. Reaching out, calling over and over, just hoping someone would answer. Someone, anyone out there not in the same sorry state as San Antonio. But all she heard was the empty crackle of dead air.

  "There’s no one out there,” Carson said, walking up worn out from his segment of the patrol.

  "You don’t know that. They couldn’t have hit everyone. This is a big country.”

  "He agreed, that much was accurate. "It is, honey." He stooped and gulped down a considerable amount of water. "If someone possessed the necessary knowledge to target precisely, they could significantly diminish our nation's capacity to respond with considerably fewer projectiles than one might suppose."

  “So, you're a military strategist now,” she scoffed. He was a bright guy but she just loved giving him hell.

  “Hey, don't be mean. I’m just making conversation.”

  Carson Adams had been a sub-contractor running a crew of mostly Mexican day laborers and the small BuilderBots doing construction jobs all over the Metroplex. He was smart and surprisingly well read, but Carla also knew him to be impulsive and prone to untimely shows of emotion, particularly toward her. He took risks, some that could put them all in danger.

  “So, if no one is out there to help us—what?” she asked.

  "We have to start thinking long-term," Carson said, his voice low but firm. "We can't keep scavenging like vultures among the ruins forever. Eventually people are going to have to start rebuilding, producing things again from scratch. We need to figure out how to be self-sufficient, grow our own food, generate our own power. The old world is gone but that doesn't mean we can't build a new one from what's left."

  She’d been increasingly thinking the same thing, but had no idea how to even begin. Right now, they were in survival mode, and honestly, it was exhausting. Most days, she didn’t know if she was going or coming.

  The following day, Carla decided to take a break from her routine patrols. She joined forces with Maria to clean up the overgrown backyard instead. It was no surprise that Meredith chose not to participate in this particular task.

  She thought there were some better tools in the old shed, but over the years they’d lost the keys to the rusty, old lock. Fortunately, their garden had always been tended to. Texas has a long growing season. They took care of the plants that were barely hanging on and placed them in a small Ecosaver, basically a box that acted as a miniature environment for the seedlings providing soil, water, and heat.

  Carla had picked up a number of other seeds and gotten those started as well. Maria insisted on handling much of the gardening, which had always been something she’d loved to do. Carla watched her, understanding that this must be one of the few aspects of her life that she still had control over.

  “Never had you pegged as the down-and-dirty type!” a voice rang out.

  Carla looked up, smiling at the source of the voice.

  It belonged to a man about her age whom she found herself checking out, despite herself. Somehow, he was keeping himself in good shape, even at the end of the world. Joshua had worked as a coach and fitness instructor at the local high school where Carla had taught. Just as Carla’s job had shackled her with permanent responsibility, Joshua’s had shackled him with a permanent need to push himself physically. Though, as different as night and day, they had become fast friends over the years.

  "Figured that was more up your alley," Carla responded, mirroring his broad grin. Joshua had a way of eliciting her more upbeat side—a sense of mirth, an airiness, an acknowledgment that life was meant for enjoyment.

  “Where’s Meredith?” Joshua asked, scanning the garden. He was one of the only people Carla had actually introduced to her loony sister. He had previously told Carla, “You can’t treat her like the madwoman in the attic,” to which Carla had claimed that the ‘madwoman in the attic’ would actually be preferable to what some of the people called her.

  “Hi, Maria!” Joshua said, waving. Maria gave him a wave before winking at Carla, who just put it down to one of her grandmother’s growing eccentricities.

  “I was wondering if I could steal Carla away for a few minutes, maybe take a walk around the block?” suggested Joshua.

  “Sure, why not?” said Carla, scrunching up her face and taking off her gardening gloves before turning to Maria. “You going to be all right, Grandma?”

  "Certainly, dear," Maria replied. "Enjoy yourself and return when you're ready. I'll remain here until you do." The tone in her voice left an ominous feeling, as if she was daring the universe to challenge her.

  Carla left the garden and started walking with Joshua down the street. “With all the free time on your hands, I’m surprised you haven’t found the time to get your car fixed,” she stated. Joshua’s car had broken down months earlier, forcing Carla to pick him up each day for school. She didn’t mind the company as they both chatted about school, kids who got on their nerves, and lessons that they would rather be teaching. He’d not seemed eager to actually repair the car, and that hadn’t really registered with her until now.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t found the time to get back to writing,” Jordan retorted.

  Carla’s earlier ambition in life had been to be a writer. She had fallen in love with the book The Great Gatsby, making a point to reread it every few months, and hoped that one day, she might contribute something to the world of literature. Now…the world was gone. No one was left to read her stories, unwritten or not.

  “I’ll do it when I get ‘round to it,” she muttered.

  “You know, that’s what I’ve always liked about you, Carla,” said Joshua kindly. “You always try to take on everybody else’s problems. But you need to have time for yourself. You’re already a great sister, teacher, and writer – if you actually took the time to put the work in,” he added in a softer voice. “You don’t need to be a martyr, too. You can’t save everyone, nor should you try,” he finished, letting the words hang in the air.

  “You’ve got something to say, haven’t you?” asked Carla, her tone frosty.

  Joshua sighed. This wasn’t how he had imagined this conversation, but he could see no other way of skirting around it. “Carla… I know about Jenny.”

  And just like that, Carla’s mood clouded over. “Goddamn it, Carson…”

  “You shouldn’t be angry with him. He was just looking out for you. Just like the rest of us. I remember her…” He trailed off, seemingly unsure if he should be discussing this. “She was very sure of herself, even then. She knew she didn’t need teachers or anyone to tell her how the world worked. She’d find her own way regardless.”

  “Stop it! Just, please stop.”

  “What?” Joshua asked.

  “I killed a kid,” said Carla breathlessly. “She could have been so much more…”

  “You don’t know the full story,” said Joshua. “The attack… it changed people. And not for the better. If one of you had to go, I’d much rather it was her than you. You’ve got too many people relying on you. You are a good person, you’ve stepped up. Others are…well, they’re heading in the other direction.”

  They rounded the corner, the silence hanging thick between them. “I…you, shouldn’t be going out on those patrol rounds with Carson, anyway. You two spend far too much time, together.”

  Carla rolled her eyes. Joshua was literally the only person who knew about her ongoing affair with their mutual friend. He’d weaseled it out of her months earlier during a planning period at school. And even though he had been sworn to secrecy, she could tell how uncomfortable he was about it. He and Carson were friends, or at least friendly. They played ball together on summer leagues and hung out at some of the family get-togethers. He liked Carson but not the Carson who was banging his friend.

  “It’s just a bit of fun,” Carla said weakly as Joshua confronted her.

  “Yeah, I’m sure that excuse is going to go down just fine with his firecracker of a wife,” Joshua said sardonically. “Carla, they’re a family. It’s going to end in heartbreak. Even if you can manage the pretense, is that how you want to live your life? Sneaking into abandoned houses for a quick screw? You need someone who can be there for you. Someone who can take care of you. Someone to make you feel complete — who makes you feel like all of this…” he waved his hand around at the desolate suburb, “…is just background noise.”

  Joshua burned with passion, aching to be the one for Carla. But, he kept his desire secret, determined that no matter who she chose, he would make sure that she was in a healthy relationship, one that would make her blissfully happy. A smoldering fire lingered deep in his soul, igniting him with the hope of just possibly being that person she would one day want.

  Deep down, Carla had known that the affair with Carson wasn’t meant to last. It had just been a bit of fun. Some solace that would have allowed them both a distraction from the stresses of their home life. Hell marriage itself was intentionally temporary these days. No couples took out permanent marriage contracts anymore but of course, Carson and Chelsea had.