America's Sunset: A Post Apocalyptic Fight for Survival (4 page)

Chapter 5 ~ Dungeons & Cruises

“C’mon, Maggie, it’s not that much money. An extra five thousand, is not really that much in the large scheme of things. Think of it as an investment for the future. For your kids’ future,” Jake said.

“An education is an investment. A home is an investment. Stocks are an investment. Hell, buying another computer that’s going to be obsolete before we figure out how to turn it on is more of an investment. Haven't you dug enough holes out there? The whole back property must be on the verge of collapse with all the digging that's gone on,” Maggie said.

“That’s not true. Everything I’ve done is structurally sound. If anything, I’ve over-engineered the hell out of all that stuff back there. Nothing is going to collapse. Don't worry, there won’t be a sinkhole in the backyard anytime soon.”

“You can’t say over-engineered. You’re not an engineer. You’re a retired librarian. You don’t build buildings, you don’t build bridges. You never went to engineering school. What makes you think you’re qualified to say you’ve over-engineered anything?”

“Research librarian.” Jake corrected. “I’m an educated man, Maggie. I can read, and I can learn. You’re going to thank me for all of this at some point. There’s going to come a day where all hell breaks loose around here, and everyone is going to be looking for a place to hide. All those neighbors of ours are going to become some scary-ass people very quickly.”

“Now, you're clairvoyant as well? You don’t know that. You don’t know how people are going to react in a given situation until you’re actually in that situation. People are basically good at heart. They’re not going to start scratching each other’s eyeballs out for a can of green beans. Real people don’t act that way.”

“You’re right, that’s not normally what people are like, but I’m not planning for a normal situation. None of us have ever had to live in the kind of situation that I’m planning for here.”

“Maybe,” Maggie smiled, “that’s because the situation never came up, and never will come up.”

“We live a sheltered life here, Maggie. A very fortunate and blessed life, in the greatest country on the planet. War and hunger and starvation and crime are distant concepts in our lives.”

“That’s not true, you old fool. Have you read the newspapers? I have. I still watch the news while you’re sitting there all night long reading crazy conspiracy stuff on the Internet. I know what’s going on. My life isn’t that sheltered.”

“Knowing about something and actually having to survive your way through it are two totally different things. Just because I’ve read about the First World War, doesn’t mean I know what it’s like to live in the trenches and wonder if I’ll ever make it home to my family.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jake. Of course it doesn’t. I’m just trying to tell you that I know what goes on in the world. I know there are horrible things happening in it, and I know they happen closer to home than we’d like. And yes, it scares me, but I’m not going to let it rule my life. I’m going to enjoy the time I have left in this world, and I want to enjoy it with you. I don’t want to spend money digging holes so I can live in the ground someday. I’ll live in the ground when I’m cold and dead. For right now, I’d rather take that five thousand and go on a cruise with you somewhere. Is that so bad?”

Jake was silent for a minute. They both were. This wasn’t the first time they’d had discussions like this. As much as they still loved each other and wanted to be together, it was getting harder. Harder, because they were growing to see the world through different eyes. Like much of the country. There were those that believed it was important to do everything they could to prepare for the inevitable. At least their version of the inevitable. Then there were those who just blindly kept on doing what they were doing. Maybe with a blind eye, and maybe with eyes wide open. Eyes wide open, that were connected to a brain that decided it didn’t matter. If that’s the way things were going to end, then so be it. If the zombie horde, or the starving neighbors horde, showed up at their door tomorrow morning armed with pitchforks and toxic venom in their saliva, then so be it. Bring ’em on and let the chips land where they lay.

“I love you very much too,” Jake said. “Can’t you see that you’re the reason why I do the stuff that I do. The thought of you or our kids falling prey to those horrors is more than I can stand. It’s what keeps me awake at night. I know it's old fashioned to say so, but I’m your protector. That’s my job. I’m the man here, and I’m your husband. It’s in my DNA. It makes me happy, and it’s what I want to do.”

Maggie smiled, and brushed away a single tear as she hugged Jake. “I know dear, I understand why it’s important to you, and I love you for it. But, maybe, just maybe you’d sleep better at night if you were on a cruise ship in the middle of the Caribbean, thousands of miles away from your hunger-crazed zombie neighbors?”

Jake chuckled, as he shook his head in disagreement.

Chapter 6 ~ Harish

Harish didn’t mind cleaning public bathrooms; at least it was a job. Not something that everyone had these days. The work was really quite peaceful, given that none of his other colleagues seemed interested in the task. The fact that he was willing to do the work spared them from having to get their hands dirty. He put on the long, thick rubber gloves before getting started. The washrooms were his favorite part of the job. He didn’t have to deal with the public, and there was no one to make disparaging remarks about his ethnicity.

He moved from urinal to urinal, spraying each with disinfectant and wiping them down with the long-handled brush he pulled from the pail of watered-down bleach. If the little blue deodorant pucks in each had melted or were too small, he replaced them with new ones. He’d suggested to his manager that if he just moved all the small pucks to the urinal furthest from the door they would last longer. It seemed to get the least use. His manager told him to keep doing things the way he’d been instructed, and to stop thinking so much. It occurred to Harish that it was hard not to think doing a job like this. Thinking was what he did all the time. Thinking about a better place to live mostly. He’d held this job for a month now, which was almost a record for him.

It looked like things might be finally turning around. Nothing to get too excited about, given that he still lived in the basement of an old house in the Greenspoint neighborhood of Houston, Texas, an area that even the crack dealers avoided. It simply wasn’t worth the risk on their investment. Having been unemployed for two months prior to this job had him worried. He hadn’t been able to even pay his rent, and he realized that the only reason he wasn’t out on the streets was that his landlord hadn’t been around for a while. That wasn’t too strange in and of itself, but it was strange that the power and water were still on. The last time his landlord disappeared for this long, the utilities got shut off. Given his financial situation, it was a blessing this time as long as the utilities stayed on.

Harish finished the last of the urinals, then moved towards the stalls. He liked to do the sinks first, then the urinals, then the stalls. He figured that way he’d get adjusted to the smell of the place before moving on to the worst of it all. Not that the smell was ever that bad in here. He’d certainly been in worse places. That last foster home he lived in before turning eighteen and moving out on his own came to mind.

Today though, the washroom had a slightly rotten smell to the place. Kind of like the alley behind the butcher he used to pass by on the way to high school. Not an alley you wanted to walk down on one of those one hundred degree-plus Houston summer days. Truth be told, it wasn’t an alleys you wanted to walk down on most days. Knowing where to go and where not to go was all part of growing up in the Third Ward of Houston. It could be a tough area for most kid and especially for one that’s a little different. 

“Well,” Harish said out loud. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one, shall we.”

He pushed the door open and wrinkled his nose at the sight within.

“Hmm. Looks like someone couldn’t hold their booze,” he said, as he was confronted with a stall decorated with stomach bile, regurgitated malt beer, popcorn and pepperoni.

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Lucy, his manager, covering her mouth as she tried to suppress her gag reflex.

“Hello, Lucy. What brings you here to my office on this cheery Sunday morning?”

Harish flashed her the nicest smile he could muster. Lucy was his manager, and the prettiest girl he got to talk to these days. She actually talked back to him, which was a real bonus. The fact that she was his manager didn’t deter Harish.

“Geez, how can you stand the smell in this place?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad … you kind of get used to it. I’ve smelled worse.”

Lucy half smiled. “Really?” Lucy tried to control her gag reflex. “The owner is in his office, and he wants to have a word with you.”

“Sure thing.” Harish kept smiling as he removed his gloves.

“Finish cleaning this up first though. This is more of a priority.” Lucy barely got her last words out before leaving the room.

The smile gradually disappeared from Harish’s face as he pulled the gloves back up. His mind considered the possibilities. There were generally only a few reasons to get called into the owner’s office. He was either being fired, or being praised for doing something exceptional. Most of his collegues would have been convinced they were being fired. In which case, why even bother cleaning up this disgusting mess?

“There’s no point doing a job half-way,” he said. “If they want to fire the guy that made the floors in the washroom clean enough to eat off of, that’s their loss.”

He pulled the heavy duty scraper out of his cleaning kit, and proceeded to remove the worst of the hardened vomit from the walls. Once the walls were scraped and cleaned, he moved to the floor around the toilet.
The spots behind the toilet are always the worst
, he thought.
No one ever wants to reach around back there.
That’s where he started, and by the time he was done, every square inch of the place, including the floor behind the toilet, was indeed clean enough to eat off.

An hour later, Harish exited the washroom, whistling to himself. He dropped off his cleaning cart in the supply closet, then headed off to find Wayne, the owner. He’d never actually met the owner before. Lucy was the one that interviewed and hired him. Wayne never seemed to be around the theater very often. He was always off at some convention or something. Harish figured Wayne just wanted to meet the new guy. That made sense. No reason to assume anything more than that.

Harish knocked on the office door, and when no one answered, he tried the handle, but it was locked.
Must be gone for the day
, he thought.
I’ll find him tomorrow.

“Can I help you, son?” came a voice from down the hall.

“Yes, sir, I’m Harish. Lucy said you wanted to speak with me.”

Wayne looked puzzled. “Harish?”

“I go by Harry sometimes,” Harish answered. “Makes it easier for people to remember. It’s a little more American,” he said with a grin. “That’s the name I used on my resume.”

Truth be told, Harish always used the Americanized version of his name when possible. As open-minded as most people could be, there were still those that would discriminate based solely on a name. He hoped Wayne wasn’t one of them. Wayne just stared for a second or two.

“OK, that kind of makes sense now.”

“Sorry, sir? What makes sense?”

“Nothing, never mind, and stop calling me sir. Everyone here calls me Wayne.”

“OK, sir … I mean Wayne. Thank you.”

“Lucy tells me you’ve been doing a great job around here. Been taking a lot of initiative to get things done. I like that.”

“That’s good to hear. I do like it here. It's a great theater. So different than all those new big multi-screen places out in the burbs. Not that I get to them too much. They’re pretty far out, and I don’t have a car. I like watching the older movies. They seem more real, you know.”

“Yes, I know what you mean, Harry. I wish more young people saw things your way. It would make running this place a lot easier. Especially at times like this.”

“What do you mean, times like this?”

“Well, things are tough for a small indie theater like this one, even at the best of times. There’s not really a big demand for foreign films here, but I grew up in Texas, and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“OK.”

“I really have to focus on what my customers want with a small business like this one, and unfortunately there have been some complaints as of late.”

“Complaints? About me? I don’t understand. I thought Lucy was happy with my work. She said she was.”

“Yeah, no. It’s not Lucy. She wouldn’t say anything like this. It’s kind of hard to say, but I’ll come right out and say it. There are some customers that don’t like being served by someone of your background.”

“My background … I see.” Harish looked down at his feet. “I suppose this means you’re going to have to let me go.”

“I’d hate to do that, I really would. It’s not right, but some people see the world differently these days. Given the way things are, I can't totally blame them even if I don't always agree with them. But, they are paying customers and my profit margins are small enough already. I can’t afford to have people bad-mouthing the theater.”

“So, I suppose I’ll be looking for another job.”

“I was thinking, I just need you to work some different shifts. After-hours and such. Lots of clean-up and some of the dirty work, I’m afraid. The bad thing is, I won’t be able to give you as many hours. At least I can keep you on, and still keep everyone happy.”

“Thank you, Wayne, I appreciate that. I’ll find a way to make it work.”

“You’re taking it better than I thought you would.”

“What, did you think I was, like, going to blow up the place or something?” Harish replied with a grin, then shook his head. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with this kind of thing. I do appreciate you trying to make it work though.”

“It's hard being different at the best of times. You ever consider maybe moving anywhere else?”

“Not really. I grew up in Texas, and I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”