23 April 2015, Late Evening
The Taurus was parked in the usual spot just beside the rear shutter of the workshop. Its springs were compressed, and its trunk sat low over its tyres.
"Looks like a good run. What do you think he's got this week?"
Nadine looked over expectantly as they walked down the dimly lit alley, but Marlene didn't reply; she was looking over her shoulder yet again.
"Relax, girl," Nadine said, giving her friend a shove. "You're acting like it's your first time."
"Can't be too careful," Marlene muttered, keeping her eyes fixed to their rear even as she stumbled sideways.
"Yeah. You'd be paranoid too if everyone was out to get you, right?"
Satisfied that there weren't any other people around, Marlene turned to face the eye-rolling woman. "Says the one who got robbed last week," she grumbled, returning the shove.
"Bah, those assholes got lucky. Back to subject – what do you think he's got?" Nadine dismissed, eager to change the topic.
"You got careless", said Marlene, placing particular emphasis on each word as if that would help get it through to Nadine. "And, you almost got caught by that patrol before that. Anyway, I don't care what it is he's got, as long as it isn't that shit he keeps calling 'gin'."
Nadine gave a sheepish grin-shrug as they continued down the alley, which she had given back when Marlene found her during each of those times. The scene had become too much of a norm for her comfort – a series of impatient knocks on her apartment door, and her opening the door to reveal a Nadine with fresh bruises or cuts each time.
They reached the workshop, and she gave the door beside the shutter a few polite knocks. The sound of tools clanging on the floor soon came from within, followed by the stomping of boots and the noise of the door's bolt being unlatched shortly after. The door opened to reveal a stout man with unseemly dark circles beneath his eyes, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His eyes, narrowed into an expression of deep loathing, flickered with recognition as their faces came into his view. Not that it changed the look on the rest of his face as he swung the door open, and turned to walk back into the workshop.
"Nice to see you too," Nadine said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as they entered with Marlene shutting the door behind. "Working on something?"
The man didn't reply as he went into the storeroom beside the workshop's office, but then he barely ever spoke, anyway. They didn't know his name even after dealing with him for the best part of a year, and he never asked for theirs either.
Still, the generator with its innards lying out in the middle of the workshop answered her question. He'd been a mechanic; he was still one on occasion. But he needed a better means of income than the few customers who called upon his services these days, the main product of which was in his hands as he returned a minute later. He laid it beside the two on the floor, stepping back with his arms folded.
Marlene crouched to look through the cardboard carton, in which twelve glass bottles were divided neatly. She lifted one up – she was immediately pleased to see that it was filled with a dark amber-brown liquid – and unscrewed the cap for a taste.
The fumes hit her right away, but the blow was unexpectedly gentle. Together with the tones of oak was an aftertaste of metal, but that was thankfully overwhelmed by the flavour – swirling the liquid around a little, she could even discern a brief hint of corn through the muddled mess. The mouthful went down very well, all things considered; it was quite good for something distilled in a bathtub.
"Okay. Pretty smooth," she said appraisingly to the waiting Nadine.
The man scoffed and took a drag of his cigarette, as if affronted that she would even have thought otherwise.
"Nice work, I guess," said Nadine, looking up to face him. "How much?"
"Five each."
"Five?" She coughed, fanning the smoke from her face. "Since fucking when?"
The man shrugged, and took another drag. "Take it or leave it, blondie," he grunted, with the assured air of a merchant knowing he was holding all the cards in the deal.
And he would be, literally. Nadine looked over in question to Marlene who, after a moment's consideration, gave an assenting tilt of the head. Bit of a rip off, but it was pretty good stuff compared to the glorified paint stripper they'd been getting the past few months.
Not that it mattered much. Hooch was hooch was hooch. Under rationing, luxuries sold out quickly enough in the black markets. Even bootlegged, low-quality moonshine. She had no doubt the whisky would do even better; they'd get seven cards for one easily, if not eight. But Nadine wouldn't be denied.
"Throw in an extra bottle and we've got a deal," she offered, and then added in explanation to the raised eyebrow Marlene was giving her, "for personal reasons."
The man stared at her for a few seconds – during which his expression of loathing deepened considerably – before removing the cigarette from his lips and trudging back into the storeroom. He seemed more irritated by the extra work than the actual math behind the transaction when he returned with the bottle in hand and thrust it towards Nadine, holding out his other hand pointedly.
Marlene stood with the box in her hands as Nadine handed the stack of cards over. Nodding in vague approval after counting the cards, and giving a last grunt that seemed to say both 'thank you for the business' and 'now get the fuck out of my workshop', he walked over to the exit.
"You shouldn't," he said, as he opened the door.
That was rare, an utterance that wasn't strictly business from the guy. "Shouldn't what?" asked Nadine.
"Drink."
"Oh. Right…well, you shouldn't either."
"What?"
"Smoke so much," said Nadine. "It's bad for you."
"Scram," he grumbled.
The ladies shared a grin as the door shut brusquely behind them. It went well (sort of), but that was the easy part. Now they had to get back to their apartment building, and that involved crossing a part of the city at a time of the day where no one really should be. Even before everything, and certainly after the curfews.
They kept to the shadows of the buildings as they walked, choosing alleys over sidewalks where they could; the lack of lit streetlamps and the young moon that night helped. Where streets had to be crossed, Nadine would go first, crouching low and moving quickly, followed by a pause after which Marlene would follow with the carton in hand. But in the midst of one crossing they caught sight of headlights turning the corner, and they scrambled to duck behind a dumpster.
"Fuck…" whispered Nadine, in between gasps of air, as they barely missed being illuminated in the darkness. "That was close."
If they were caught out after curfew by the night patrols, the penalties would be severe. And it wouldn't be any easier if they tried to run after being spotted; the soldiers would sooner start shooting at them than try to arrest them, as Nadine found out on previous, poorly conducted excursions. Still, Marlene couldn't blame them for it; she would probably do the same if she saw movements in the shadows.
Even as they ran through them, her eyes were constantly darting to the darkest corners as they passed.
For it weren't robbers or smugglers that worried the garrison of the Wilmington Quarantine Zone. Not for the most part; civilians, even those on the wrong side of the law, knew better after a solid year of martial law than to cross the military or members of the Federal Disaster Response Agency. It was increasingly difficult to tell the difference between the two beyond their uniforms; whether it was the mottled grey of the former, or the smooth blue of the latter, their purpose and techniques seemed to be the same. Order and security, at all costs. And despite how well they'd achieved that – on both counts – infected were still prone to showing up now and again, and people were still getting infected.
In any case, the ladies knew the route well, and any hostiles were cooperatively absent that night. They made good time, and arrived at their apartment building unspotted and unscathed.
Unexhausted, not so much. It didn't help that the elevators had gone out of service because of the power cuts. Not that it would be entirely safe to ride them with the complete lack of maintenance they'd received for close to two years. Beside her, Nadine was making an absolute show of panting and heaving as they grunted up the steps to her floor, and sweat had darkened her shirt by several shades.
"You're carrying…next time," Marlene complained as they finally reached her front door. Shoving the carton at Nadine, she managed to gasp out a last instruction, "Store it properly, yeah?"
"Yeah, yeah..." Nadine replied breathlessly, taking the box after mopping the sweat off her forehead. "See you on the roof in a bit?" she continued, dangling the extra bottle invitingly.
Marlene nodded her reply, finding words to be too much of a hassle right that minute, and sighed as she collapsed onto the couch in the virtually bare living room in her decrepit home.
It'd never been the Ritz before all of this of course, but it'd only gotten worse since. Nice Things had been traded away for Essential Things; a prized family vase swapped for a carton of canned soup; her collection of Savage Starlight figurines, which she'd so painstakingly built up during her teenage years and had once been displayed proudly over the desk in her room, bartered for a portable stove and a couple of gas refills, for example.
It wasn't that she rued either of those trades – part of her was still sneering at the fools on the other end of them – but almost everything that had made that home a home had gone, stripped away from it like flesh off bone, with only the skeleton remaining.
Marlene stood, having brought her heart rate back to somewhere below cardiac arrest, and walked to the kitchen sink to fill a glass of water from the tap. It was agreeably cool – that boded well for the drinking session later, as it refreshed her throat. She glanced around the apartment. The lights weren't on except for the doorway light she'd switched on upon entering.
She placed the glass down and left, deciding she'd rather head up to the roof first and wait for Nadine there, than the alternative.
The gentle night breeze coming off the Delaware River was agreeably cool, as expected, and Marlene leaned back on her arms as she observed the cityscape before them.
Off in the distance on both sides were I-95 and I-495, the two interstates that cradled most of the city like a sort of Tigris and Euphrates. Marlene loved the analogy; it was especially ironic considering what the would-be Mesopotamia in the middle was actually like. Then again, she couldn't but wonder what had become of the actual Mesopotamia – the analogy might've actually been apt, making it doubly ironic.
Closer to the building were the industrial districts of the city, which they'd cut through earlier that evening; a dark sea with the occasional buoys and lighthouses of streetlamps at major intersections, and just a few moving lights of the night patrols. Closer still was the dust bowl of the rail yard just two blocks away, and even in the dim light she could see the locomotives, empty carriages and stock cars decaying in the field. She could even see an Acela Express, which would've once streaked through the city, a silver-and-blue bullet ferrying people up and down to the metropolises of the eastern seaboard. Businesspeople on their way to Wall Street, politicians on their way to D.C, students on their way to another term at university, families and friends on vacations; all sorts of people for all sorts of reasons.
And there it sat with a thick layer of dust covered over the windows of its carriages, the grime of weather clustered around its bogies, and rust forming on the folded metal arms of its pantograph. Not that it mattered, nor that it would matter again; the catenaries above were dead, anyway.
"Man…that's really…good," said Nadine beside her, smacking her lips and passing the bottle over shakily.
Marlene saw that half of it had already gone, and that was probably enough for the night. For both of them. A hiccup worked its way up her throat, drawing a loud guffaw from Nadine that turned into a squeak of protest as it drew her a smack on the head.
"Look at it, Nade," said Marlene, shaking her wrist and gesturing at the snaking tracks before them.
Her friend did as she told, swiveling her head forward.
"Hmm?"
"Remember what this place used to be like? So busy and noisy, all the time. The clickety-clack of the damned trains on the tracks."
"Mmm," Nadine slurred, bowing her head down in what was could've been a nod.
"And look at I-95. Used to be moving lights, any time of the night," continued Marlene, gesturing at the interstate, empty but for the odd abandoned vehicle on the shoulder. Already creepers had started growing over the white concrete barriers.
"Mmm-hmm," Nadine continued nodding vaguely – the lights were on, but the occupants had left the building – she probably wasn't following what Marlene was getting at.
"Even the rest of the city, right?" said Marlene, pointing in the distance past the highway.
Few streetlights were left on in the other districts as well, and certainly no billboards, nor the signboards of the business district. In place of the traditional night-glow with its hints of blue, white, and red, was a stark darkness, freckled only by the occasional yellow.
"If that's all we're gonna get, all we have to look forward to–" Marlene felt her throat run dry, and semiconsciously took another swig, wincing a little as the fumes ran through her, "–how is this even surviving?" she finished softly.
Nadine gave a burp beside her, followed by a puppy-dog grin when that earned a venomous glare from Marlene. Reaching over to put her hand on her friend's shoulder, she started tipsily, and pointed a finger above them.
"Lookit, Lil' Miss Back-in-the-day…"
Marlene followed the path of the finger and looked up to see the glimmering stars in the night sky. It was curious, she found as she moved her gaze down to the city and back up again, that they seemed almost reflections of each other.
"I don't remember being able to see those…b-before. All thish," Nadine finished, rounding off with another burp.
Marlene could barely stop herself from rolling her eyes. Yeah, the blonde definitely had enough for the night. Because this friend of hers – she was using the term loosely right that minute, especially if she heaved on her next – which she'd known since high school, as much as anyone else, should've known what she was getting at. Especially with everything she'd lost up till then.
"Lookit the b-e-a-utiful stars, Marley…"
But the woman was nothing if not a happy drunk; the glass was always half full for her, as long as there was whisky in it. Deciding she was a lost cause, Marlene removed the blonde's arm gently and pulled her up, whilst holding the bottle in her other hand.
"Time for bed, you," she said, as they walked in each other's arms down the stairs, together to Nadine's apartment where she dropped both her and the bottle off, to the woman's reluctant protests ("Aww…don't leave me, Marley"). She would be fine, even on her own, even if Marlene definitely didn't want to be her in the morning.
Her mind was numb, but not quite enough when she reached the door of her flat. She'd been hoping to come home to find her already asleep, but the light seeping through the bottom into the dark corridor told her it'd been in vain. Marlene braced her hand against the frame of the door for a few seconds before unlocking it and twisting it open.
She'd barely stepped into the doorway when the voice greeted her.
"Look at the time, Marlene."
Her mind was numb, and her limbs were heavy. She did not have the energy for their usual skirmish, and especially at the hour.
"Out with that Davies girl again, I take it."
Marlene ran her palm over her face, and kept her tone as even as she could as she replied, leaning against the dining table between them.
"I can handle myself, mom. I'm twenty-two already…"
"It's not the drinking I'm worried most about," she said, standing up from the couch where she'd been sitting.
Marlene felt her thin attempt at patience ebb away at the unnecessary jibe at her close friend. "What then?" she snapped.
"It's whatever it is you two are doing out there," the older woman continued, calmly. "I don't ask and you don't tell, but I'm not stupid. FEDRA doesn't give out ration cards that easily."
"I don't hear you complaining when you take them, and you wouldn't have to if they gave enough of those down at the factory–"
"It wouldn't hurt if you showed up once in a while," her mother interrupted. "You don't know the trouble I've got getting the supervisors to look the other way."
"Yeah, and you come home half dead every night, and for what? Two measly cards a week? What I'm doing–" Marlene thumped her palm on the dining table, "–is keeping us alive, mom!"
Her mother didn't reply to the outburst, and instead stared into Marlene's eyes. After a minute, her gaze softened, and she walked past her into the kitchen, returning shortly after with a glass of water and two slices of bread which she laid onto the table.
"Get something in you before going to bed," she said, giving a yawn which she silenced with her hand. "You'll thank me in the morning."
Only the lower half of her face was lit by the light above it, and somehow the lines beneath her eyes, around her nose and mouth, seemed deeper to Marlene than they had ever been. It only just occurred to Marlene that her mother might have been staying up just so she knew that she'd got home safely, and part of her wanted to say something right, and another part of her wanted to do something right – give the old woman a hug, perhaps.
A response, anything, to assuage the guilt punching her gut that minute.
But the woman had already walked into her room, and all that was left for Marlene to do was to sit down at the table to the supper.
A/N: Beta'd by the too-awesome-for-words APAccidentalAccount. Thank you for reading, as always. To be continued!