People magazine. That’s how Christina knew the mayor preferred boxers to briefs, and this silly bit of trivia had helped her stay calm through the nerve-wracking interview. People had published a feature on Ramirez in their “most eligible bachelors” issue, an issue she guiltily enjoyed. Like many bachelorettes she’d daydreamed about meeting a man from the list, but today when it really happened it was more ordeal than fantasy. At least he had treated her with respect, probably more respect than she deserved considering her complicity in recent events.
But her testimony was over and now she had more pressing concerns. Riding her bike toward the apartment, her number one concern was food.
“We’re still checking, Chrissy, but all the stores in the area are closed,” River’s voice whined from Christina’s cell phone.
“How far are you from the apartment?” she asked.
“I’ve covered about a mile. Mickey’s gone a little further in the other direction.”
“Damn,” Christina said. “We should’ve bought more stuff at the grocery yesterday.”
“Yesterday we weren’t relying on FEMA to provide our next meal,” River said. “How long can we last on what we’ve got in the pantry?”
“With or without Mickey the Bottomless Pit?”
“I won’t let you turn him out, Chrissy.” “I’m kidding. But we’re all going on a diet real soon. I’d say we’ve got maybe three days of rations, plus whatever’s buried in the freezer.”
“That’s not much. Will the roads be open by then?”
“No, River, I don’t think they will. The truth is, they may never open. Even if all the dead cars are pushed aside, the oil-eating bacteria can’t be exterminated. Anything gasoline-powered simply won’t work here. Not ever again.”
“That’s impossible. Los Angeles can’t exist without cars and trucks.”
“You said it, not me.”
The young women were silent for a moment.
“Chrissy, do you remember New Orleans after the hurricane? The roads were all blocked there, too. By water. People went kind of crazy.”
“I know. That’s why I want to stock up on supplies and barricade ourselves in the apartment, before everyone else realizes how bad it is.”
“We have to get more food, Chrissy.”
“Then find an open store! I’ll keep looking, too, but I don’t want to stay out here any longer than necessary. I’m afraid somebody will try to steal my bike.”
Conversing on her cell phone took Christina’s attention away from where it needed to be: on the road ahead. She swerved to narrowly avoid crashing into a car’s side-view mirror but lost her balance. The bike tipped over. She rubbed her leg and stood up, bruised but otherwise unhurt. The street was quiet—too quiet. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Her pulse quickened; she recovered her phone and mounted the bike. Like a mouse fleeing a bird of prey that it fears but cannot see, she sped away.
“Chrissy, are you alright?”
“Fine, just dropped my phone.”
“I have an idea,” River said. “Meet me at the Seven Eleven by the apartment.”
“You said nothing was open.”
“Just meet me there, okay?”
#
Twenty minutes later, Christina coasted up to the convenience store and saw River and Mickey sitting on a curb in the parking lot. The store was locked and dark. As she got closer, she noticed River was holding a pile of bags. Mickey had something large and heavy on his lap. They rose to greet her, and Christina recognized the object in Mickey’s hands. It was a cast-iron Dutch oven cooking pot from their kitchen.
A sense of foreboding crept over her.
“We should go home,” Christina said, willfully ignoring the odd implement Mickey was holding.
“We have business here first,” River said.
Christina looked again at the locked storefront, and at the Dutch oven.
“No, River. You can’t.”
“Yes we can, and we will. You know it’s only a matter of time. Remember New Orleans.”
Mickey chimed in. “If not us, somebody else will.”
“No. No! It’s a crime. We’ll be fine with what we have. Just forget it,” Christina said, turning her bike toward home.
River grabbed the handlebars. “You said yourself that it’ll be a very long time until the roads reopen. Who do you think is going to take care of us? The government?”
“Fuck that,” Mickey said. “I say we take care of ourselves.”
And with that, he flung the iron pot against the door.
“Stop! What about the police?”
“Don’t be a fool, Chrissy. There aren’t any police, and they won’t be coming anytime soon. Shut up and grab some bags,” River said.
The door proved remarkably resilient as Mickey struck it again and again with his small battering ram. Christina shrank back against the side wall of the building, plastic grocery bags in her hands, shocked and confused by her own submission to this outrageous plan. She’d just testified at City Hall, for God’s sake.
The sound of Mickey banging the glass seemed loud enough to summon a legion of police. On the third strike, he triggered an alarm. The high-pitched wail stoked her anxiety; she was certain they’d be arrested in minutes. But at last the door shattered, and the three novice burglars forced their way inside.
“Go for high calories and lots of preservatives,” River shouted over the clamor of the alarm as she shoveled Hostess fruit pies into a bag.
Mickey was up to his elbows in the chips shelf. Sensible even in the midst of insanity, Christina targeted the nuts and dried fruit. Then she saw Mickey head for the beer section.
“That will not help us,” she said.
He smiled and flipped her the bird.
Compared to the length of time it took to gain entry, it seemed to take no time at all to load themselves with all they could carry back to the apartment.
“Let’s go,” River said, and they exited the way they came in.
Christina draped bags over her shoulders and over the handlebars of her bike. The bags jostled and threw her off balance as she started to pedal. The bicycle wobbled and her foot caught on the ground. Rearranging the bags didn’t help; the dangling weights made it impossible to ride. Already River and Mickey had sprinted halfway down the block; Christina was stranded near the broken door and screaming alarm. Surely, the police would be here any second. She’d be arrested. In a panic, she gave up trying to ride the bike. Instead she pushed it and the stolen food toward home as fast as she could on foot, her head swiveling as she scanned the area for pursuers who never came.