Bread Loaves

The tile floor is wet, glistening from murky water of a dirty mop.  Someone was cleaning, clearly, when the sirens rang out.  I had hurried, pulling up my pants, but I couldn’t get out fast enough with the rest.  Why is this day one of those, where I’m straining in the bathroom for an eternity? On top of it, only lukewarm water from the bathroom faucet to wash up.

I probably had a hard time because of all the meat and cheese I ate yesterday.  No fiber, now that I recall. The gourmet cheese case is nearby, humming with electricity. No power outages yet. The grid is still up, but that won’t last long. Cutting electricity is part of the emergency response. Along with the town sirens, of course.   No, the cheese case is still cold to the touch. About as cold as being in the snowy winter outside, but more concentrated. Through the store’s large front windows, I see the flakes falling in steady, angled streams.  The gloves warm my hands after washing up in the not-hot water.  

The wine display looks enticing.  Red wine would taste good right now. That’s really what I came in for and here it is. The idea of  curling up with a book and glass of cab is fading though.  Instead, I need to get to the Fortress. The sirens signaled everyone to go there, so I assume that’s where everyone is.  Walking through the aisles, I see nobody. Not a single truck driver loading up on pork rinds, or trailer park moms piling up the Little Debbie boxes in their baskets. I don’t see any destitute young, single mothers with their children sitting in the cart, shouting for junk food. Or the suburbanite women from the West side poking through the poultry case for a good roaster.  They like this store because of the local produce and organic options. Other than that, they wouldn’t set foot in here because of clientele they perceive as less desirable. 

I’m not sure where I stand in all that mix, except that I’m a college student with a roommate. I make ends meet between financial aid and waitressing. Mom can’t help me with college because she’s on her own and plus she has my younger brother David with her. He makes her feel protected with a male presence, she says.  Dad died two years ago of lung cancer. I just do what I can. There’s no sense in complaining.

I anticipate a power outage shortly, as that is how it tends to go, imposed by the town leaders.  We’ll go radio silent for a few hours. Best not to provide the aliens with lighting on a town scale for their mission. We are to migrate to the underground safe zone.  A ship of the alien fleet was likely spotted within 25 miles.  That’s been the drill for a little over three years, since the poison spewing aliens came to our town.  Survivors told us in the citizen circle that aliens drop in for intel on our top secret inter-galaxy capabilities.  A few, returned after interrogations, were quite detailed about the aliens and their projectile vomiting. That’s how they kill people who don’t cooperate, although they really just want intel. Best to go along with the interrogation if picked up. That’s what the briefers in the Fortress told my citizen circle during the last panic, about six months ago.  I fumble in my pocket for a flashlight, a required item. Having more than one is recommended.

I wonder how long electricity will last here at Lou’s store. My adrenalin courses more now as I contemplate losing light. I do have to get to the Fortress, which will be impossible in total, evening darkness. My single flashlight will only go so far.

It is a little after 6:40 now, by my watch. I got here around 6, looking for wine and cheese. Plenty of that here, free for the taking at this point. This place is abandoned, it seems. 

I fill up two grocery bags with alcohol and snacks, a couple cans of soup, not a lot of real food, and my cell phone beeps. It’s Jenna, my roommate.  Jenna is probably agitated I’m not in the Fortress, so I don’t want to pick up right away and listen to her grumpiness. But, I have to.  She may turn out to be a necessary lifeline.

“Where are you?” she says in an irritated manner. “You’re the only one not in our citizen circle. There’s an empty chair. They counted!”

“On my way. I couldn’t leave right away. People scattered, I mean there weren’t a lot of people around anyway on a night like this. I’m at Lou’s by myself,” I said quietly.

Fear settles in around my shoulders and in the pit of my stomach. I feel queasy at the heaviness of feeling alone in this place.

“I’m getting a patrol to pick you up. You’re going to be cited with a stiff fine, you know,” said Jenna.

“I know. But at this point, there’s probably no way I can get there in this storm.”

“We all managed,” Jenna sighed.  “Oh well. I’ll see you soon. Keep your phone on, they’ll call you to meet them outside of Lou’s probably.”

“Yeah, I will. I’m getting creeped out being here by myself. At least I think I’m alone. I haven’t looked everywhere.”

I am half afraid I will see someone else. I don’t know how I’ll protect myself if someone wants to attack me or anything. If someone else is here, please God, make it someone whose kind. We can be a team, breaking out of here, into the storm, facing the patrols who’ll ask us why we couldn’t get our acts together to get underground. We’ve been through enough drills to prepare us, they’d say. We’ll look at each other, bonding over our predicament, and become lifelong friends. Both of us having difficulty following rules during a crisis.

I push the tension in my gut further out, away from my core. My resolve to face whatever comes next is working for the moment. But I am getting a creepy feeling I may not be alone. Part of me wants to leave, before any patrols contact me or get here, but I don’t want to risk getting stuck in total darkness in a never-ending blizzard.  My car waits in the icy parking lot. I look out the large front windows and see a good half foot of snow around my tires. 

My heart sinks a bit. There is no way I’m getting out of this parking lot. If the store plunges into black, I’ll use my car to stay warm for just a bit. It has only about a quarter tank of gas.  Right now though, the store is well-lighted. I’m toasty in my gloves and coat, just fine.  I want to stay put for now and wait for the patrols.

My cell rings. The words “Ferguson Police” flash on the phone screen. 

A female dispatcher tells me a patrol will arrive in one hour. I wasn’t able to depart quickly due to a physical ailment, I say to her. I can explain all this to the officer, but for now, I’m to wait, she says. 

I am suddenly desperate to be picked up. I imagine the possibility, again, of lights going out and the moderate temperature in the store dropping to near zero.  I don’t even know if I’ll be able to open my car doors to climb in, with the force of the snow barricade that surrounds them.  

I plead for the patrol to pick me up sooner, despite what I’ve heard about their harsh ways. During the last roundup, a woman in my citizen circle said she was slapped. One said she was thrown onto the Fortress floor, part of a hurried patrol roundup. We all agreed the patrols need better training, that they are men and women under pressure, as if excusing them. It is what it is, I think. I just want out of here. I’ll be waiting, I tell the dispatcher. I won’t go anywhere.

I want to keep talking with the dispatcher though, another person. Jenna isn’t picking up, maybe because she’s deep in one of the Fortress rooms. Waiting for further instructions from the circle leaders.  

The silence inside Lou’s feels weighty now. I feel heavier too, slumped on the tile in the bread aisle. My head rests against the softness of the loaves.

There’s a loaf of bread on the floor, further down at the end of the aisle. It has one of those thick tan wrappers of the gourmet breads. Maybe it's a rosemary sourdough of some sort. It probably fell from the shelf in the panic of a fleeing customer. 

My mind is playing tricks on me, as the bread loaf seems to be moving. I promised myself to drink more water, but I haven’t been successful. I must be dehydrated.  Also, I’m still feeling constipated.

I close my eyes for a minute. The patrol will be here in less than an hour. Looking around again, the bread loaf looks normal now. No movement. The visual hallucination is gone! My legs stiffen as I stand up from the black and white tile. I thirst for water.

The bread loaf just moved again. Now I hear faint crying, like a little wail. This cannot be some skewed sense of mine, can it? I’m not sure.

Moving forward to inspect, my instinct tells me this is a baby. I may not be in my right mind though, because of the stress level.  And the crampy constipation. I don’t trust my senses right now.  I inch closer.

This is a tiny newborn, wrapped in a light pink blanket that I mistook for a bread wrapper. A wiggly little girl. She must be starving…basically dumped here. Her diaper smells. Of course.

A loud bang on the front windows distracts me from the infant. It is the patrols. They can’t have her. God knows what they’ll do with her, with their rash behaviors.  The citizens circle could find her a home.  If I can get her to the Fortress.  I still don’t know what the patrols will do with me, let alone this infant.

“Ma’am! Are you here?” The patrolman enters the store.  I detect a faint accent from him. Kind of rolling, like that of a Mediterranean.  Perhaps Italian. Or Greek.

“Yes! I have a baby with me. I don’t know how she was left here. Help!”  

The patrolman turns toward me. A black moustache, of olive complexion. A bit on the heavier side.

“We can help the infant,” he says. “The baby will have a home.”

He smiles, gesturing for me to put the baby in his arms. Suddenly, I doubt his statement.

“What do you mean?” I say.

“Many want it,” he says.

“Who?”

“If you must know, the beings. They will protect it. They want to know it.”