Vanessa Gable

Thursday, March 31st, 2022 (9 days after the Shutdown)

"Is that the last of it?" Aaliyah asked, wiping the sweat off her brow.

Staring at the tankards of river water they managed to collect, Vanessa shook her head. "No this is… maybe three quarters?"

Collapsing back into the shade of a maple tree on the lake shore, Aaliyah glumly stared as the water rippled toward her.

"Oh no you don't," she warned, lightly driving the front of her boots into Aaliyah's ribs.

Ignoring Aaliyah’s protests, she looked at her friend’s frame.

It had only been a week and having been skinny before Armageddon — as people took to calling the power outage — her ribs had become dangerously noticeable through her t-shirt.

We’ll have to tap into our reserves. The building owner had warned them they’d have to drastically cut down on their food consumption, but they’d taken it lightly. Back then, how would they know the electricity would off for more than a week?

"Ness, why the fuck did you sign us up for this?" she complained, stretching out like she was taking a nap.

“Why? Because the other options were worse. Suck it up and get used to it.”

***

The day after the Shutdown…

The day after the meeting, she'd come down and found a crowd around a whiteboard. The metal grate that had covered the main entrance overnight had in its place, men the owner had brought with him stood as sentries.

“Good morning,” a lady said, her hair set in a thick bun.

“As you know from last night's meeting, everyone is to be given tasks to be accomplished per day. When you're done deciding, put your room number beside the task you've chosen,” she said in a peppy voice like she was advertising some exotic tourist destination.

What does she have to be happy about?

“Alright, thank you,” Vanessa said, flashing a bright smile at the secretary.

Smiling back pleasantly, the lady spun on her heel and returned to help administer the whiteboard.

Following her, Vanessa stopped outside the crowd and quietly read out the list of the chores available.

[Fetch drinking water]

[Scavenge for food]

[Fetch batteries and additional power supplies]

…

It continued like that for another 20 chores, all exclusively focused on scavenging for supplies that would most likely be found outside. The next 25 listed chores were related to the upkeep building.

[Count water and food in the building]

[Locate First-Aid]

[Report to Hepburn to help ration supplies x2]

…

They’re making us work…

Everyone had too much time on their hands. That meant time to think about questions, questions that could threaten the balance the owner had crafted. If the building owner was someone who considered this and acted right away, maybe she was in safe hands.

So why are there so many guards?

In the time she talked with the lady, three more guards had stood at the front. Gang activity wasn’t uncommon in this area so she was undoubtedly thankful for them, but why were there bodyguards for a rundown apartment like this one?

Those questions had to wait. There was a lot of work to be done in the meantime.

… Guess his plan works.

Writing their number, 1005, beside 'rainwater collection', she went upstairs to rouse Aaliyah who was still blissfully ignorant of the chores awaiting her.

Days passed by and the constant cycle continued, with some of the same chores staying like many of the scavenging jobs, while others continued to be replaced.

During this unexpectedly peaceful time, the number of guards continued to steadily trickle away.

While Vanessa had to admit the people of her building were dense and unaware, the reduction of security members didn't escape their attention.

When a large number of the original 20 that had come along with the building owner had finally left, the building had become agitated.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

They beset the owner when he came in the next day. Hounding him from the onset with questions, the first crack in his friendly facade revealed itself.

“EVERYONE BACK UP! Please,” he beseeched them, his outburst scaring them into submission.

“Those men are still within an arm’s reach. I’ve just sent them to set up precautions until the police or some administrative party arrives and helps with this situation.”

That was enough to stop the questions… for now.

Vanessa, who was watching the confrontation couldn’t help but admire the power his words had over her, but the building owner forgot one crucial detail.

Their location.

The reason her rent was cheaper than other moderately affordable housing, was because her neighborhood had been redlined.

It was a common practice done purposely to cut them off as they were seen as “bad investments” by the city for whatever reason. Because of that, the power outage a week ago wasn’t initially a surprise since they were a common occurrence.

It was only after it continued into the night that people started to take notice. And all that meant to say was the police wouldn’t come until they finished with the rest of the city.

They and the rest of the South Shore district were on their own.

***

Present…

Lugging the tankards from the lake back to their apartment, she smiled in passing at the many people enjoying the morning sunshine. Even if they competed for resources, they were united by their similar circumstances.

The first few days had been the worst.

Random fires couldn’t be tamed and were spreading everywhere.

Many of the stores had been smashed in and their shelves overturned in their district's desperate hunt for food and medicinal resources. People desperately tried to contact the ambulance or the fire brigade but the cell phones and landlines were down.

Plus, no one thought of them as priority citizens.

When the petty disputes escalated to infighting and in extreme cases, murder, leaders of the community banded together to put an end to the violence.

One percenter motorcycle gangs, youth pastors, union leaders, and people like her apartment’s landlord had agreed on an uneasy truce and a promise to lend each other a helping hand.

So while the water she and Aaliyah were bringing back would go directly toward her apartment’s needs, it could be traded for other goods they needed.

As they continued to push their exhausted bodies back to the apartment, a shopping cart rolled by her.

“You girls need a lift?” Maurice pleasantly asked them, returning from his chore for the day. In the cart, sacks of fertilizer were stacked on top of each other.

“Gods, yes,” Aaliyah shamelessly replied, dumping her tankards of water into the cart.

Stretching out, Aaliyah’s chest pressed against her shirt making Maurice politely turn away.

Cracking her knuckles, she sighed, “Oh, I feel better already.”

Chortling at her relief, he gestured for Vanessa to add hers to the cart as well. While Aaliyah and Maurice brightly chatted with each other on their way back, Vanessa was distracted by the signs of past violence.

It hid in the dark like ugly scars.

Dealing with the injured and dragging bodies to bury them — it was the closest Vanessa known to hell on earth.

Fortunately, she hadn’t dealt with the corpses, but the bloodstains decorating the alleyways and street corners were a warning that that could’ve easily been her.

As they neared the apartment, shouting interrupted her reverie.

The owner was on the front steps of the apartment building, arguing with another group. Motioning for them to stop here where they were out of harm’s way, Maurice and Vanessa watched as the argument escalated until mediators from both sides were forced to step in and separate the two groups.

Approaching the apartment only after the other group left, the building’s landlord was pacing back and forth with closed eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Seeing three of his members approach with more resources, he put on a brave smile and sent some of his men to assist the trio in unloading their haul for the day.

“What was that about, sir?” Maurice wondered aloud, turning to look at the retreating backs of the other group.

Following his gaze, the younger man pursed his lips. “That’s nothing. Just some minor disagreement in a trade deal. But don’t worry about that, you’ve helped enough for today.”

Clapping Maurice on the back, he respectfully nodded to Vanessa and Aaliyah and locked himself in his office. Frowning at his words, Vanessa led them back to their floor in silence. But as long as it didn’t affect her, she reasoned that there was no need to pay heed to it.

Thanking Maurice for his help, she walked into her flat and to her only saving grace – the refrigerator.

Without any electricity, they were forced to eat all of the meat and dairy within the first few days before it all spoiled. Fortunately, Aaliyah tended to buy in bulk so they still weren’t “starving”, but their dieting would stretch the food out for another week and a half at most.

Quickly opening and closing the fridge door, she grabbed some of the water they’d stored.

One of the major benefits that came from working with other groups was that resources they couldn’t access were available to them.

Of the trades and discoveries they made, two had been emphasized by the landlord as being "crucial".

The first was a set of portable stovetops. The landlord warned them during their nightly meetings that they’d have to resort to centralized kitchens for the entire apartment if things continued this way. So another task had been added to the whiteboard to collect propane.

The second thing was a box of small water-purifying packets that they found. With a lake only 10 blocks away, most community groups within the South Shore district were more inclined to address immediate concerns such as food and protection.

Moreover, the water hadn’t shut off by then leaving residents confused when the landlord prioritized it. Now with the pipes having gone bone dry, filtered water was harder to come by.

From trial and error, people realized drinking directly from the lake would cause waterborne illnesses. With their water-purifying packets the West Wind Apartments had an edge in every deal as people eagerly traded for them.

Remembering the episode earlier on the entrance steps, she grimaced as she took another sip. It hasn’t gone unnoticed either. Downing the rest of it, she set the empty plastic bottle on the countertop and made her way to the bathroom to wash up.

Her almond eyes were sunken and the awkward pixie cut she adopted after leaving her parents had grown out, revealing rich mahogany brown at its roots.

Staring back at her deadpan appearance in the mirror, she sighed and started rubbing at the grime left by the day’s excursion.

Before they went their separate ways Maurice had warned her of a special event that night. Their building was going to host delegation parties from neighboring apartment buildings.

Hearing clamoring, she went to the window and watched people streaming in from both ends of the street, forming a growing crowd outside the entrance of the building.

Looks like they're here.