Bronx, New York
Larissa Williams tightly gripped the package under her jacket, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, a difficult task with so few people on the streets. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, had already fled New York City in the aftermath of the attacks, yet millions still remained, huddled in their homes, terrified to go out. Under a dusk to dawn curfew, most voluntarily extended it to the daylight hours for their own protection.
The city was shut down.
Businesses were closed, transit was at a near standstill, and tens of thousands of cars were abandoned in the streets, paths cleared along major routes by the National Guard using bulldozers. During the first 48 hours, there had been rioting and looting, but the Guard now had orders to shoot looters on sight, returning a frightening calm to the city.
Her stomach rumbled.
As a nurse, she had been deemed essential personnel, so was first in line for rations if she showed up for work. Which she did. It was the right thing to do, but she didn’t do it for the food. In fact, she had passed on the rations. She had plenty of food at home.
Or rather, she did.
Her apartment had been looted, all their food and water taken, and the babysitter murdered, leaving her three kids alone until she could reach them. It had been hours since she had received the desperate call from her young son, and had heard nothing since, not even from her brother who had promised to help.
And yet that wasn’t what preoccupied her thoughts.
Before leaving the hospital, she had done something she felt horrible for doing, something she had never thought she could do.
She had become a thief. One of the very looters she had urged shot just yesterday.
All the food she had to feed her three kids was now gone, and they would be starving by tomorrow. She was racked with guilt, though felt justified, albeit only slightly. She was, after all, feeding children, not herself.
But what if she were caught?
Would the National Guard accept her reasoning? She doubted it. She’d probably be arrested, for she had taken food from the mouths of the sick and dying.
Yet she had no choice. Weren’t the lives of her three young children worth as much as the patients this food had been earmarked for? And many of those people were certain to die. Didn’t it make more sense to feed those who could live through this crisis?
The government kept promising relief, yet it never arrived. It could come tomorrow, or next month. Those responsible for the catastrophe promised it never would, and right now, she believed them more than Washington.
A glass bottle rolling on pavement had her head swiveling toward the alleyway she was passing.
“What you got there, lady?”
Her heart slammed as footfalls echoed.
She ran.
Part of her didn’t want to look behind her, the prospect of seeing whoever was chasing her more terrifying than not knowing. She spotted a National Guard unit ahead at the next intersection, at least a dozen armed men that were there to protect her.
Yet she was a thief, breaking the law.
Would they shoot her for looting? And if they did, who would take care of her children? She glanced behind her, finding herself alone. One of the soldiers walked toward her, tapping his watch. “Five minutes, ma’am!”
“I-I’m almost home.”
He nodded at her, returning to his post. She dared not get any closer, the bulge in her jacket too obvious.
She took a chance.
She dashed down an alleyway, a foolish venture, yet she had little choice. Somebody grumbled from between two dumpsters, yet she pressed on as fast as she could. She could see the street just ahead, her apartment building on the other side, when two men stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
“What’s the hurry?”
She cried out, trying to push through, but it was useless. They grabbed her arms and the food she had managed to conceal for so long fell to the ground.
“Holy shit!” The two men scrambled for the loot, and she took advantage. She raced past them, bursting out onto the street, tears streaking her face as she rushed for the doors of her building, a siren wailing a warning of the impending curfew, and she left to wonder where the next meal for her children would come from.
Tonight, she had failed her family, her helpless children, and soon they’d be sick enough to join those in the hospitals, too weak to go on.
If they were still alive.
She unlocked the door to her apartment building, stepping inside and pulling it shut, feeling safer, though not safe. For in today’s America, friends and neighbors were no more. No one could be trusted. The country was collapsing, and the government was powerless to stop it. She had stolen food from the dying, then had it stolen from her.
And tomorrow, God willing, she would do it all over.
For there was no one left to help her.
She was on her own.