It's Only Temporary by Eric Shapiro

Author:Eric Shapiro [Shapiro, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-19T22:00:00+00:00

19

I shouldn’t have spent the past six weeks watching television; my body is in no mood for exercise. We walk over two miles to the nearest exit, the one leading to the town beside mine. Maybe I’ll see somebody I know. My school used to play sports against theirs.

Paula walks two steps ahead of me and Gina. The three of us bake in the sun. I imagine that the dry blood on Paula’s face and scalp is very uncomfortable, not to mention the wound itself.

“Paula,” I say.

“Yeah, kid?”

“I’m sorry for what I said before, about them using their pricks as weapons.”

Even though I can’t see Paula’s face, I sense it changing. The outline of her head widens. She’s smiling.

I go on, “It was the drugs.”

“You should really lay off that shit.”

I touch the metal bowl in my hip pocket. A zip-lock bag crinkles beneath it. It wasn’t too long ago that I told Selma weed was jamming up our communication frequencies. It’s tempting to empty my pocket out onto the street, but my nerves won’t allow that. You never know when panic’s coming.

Paula has yet to explain her game plan. I pray that she truly has one. The odds that she does are high; she hasn’t lied to me yet. I play guessing games with myself until we arrive at a corner convenience store: cracked windows, no lights, open door.

“Hopefully there’s water in here,” Paula says, disappearing into the darkness.

Gina and I look at each other. I’ve never seen someone as grave looking as Gina. She’s set some kind of record, even by today’s standards. Her mouth brings to mind the lines on a heart monitor: mostly straight, yet twitchy and wrinkly at times. I gather that she speaks either Spanish or Italian. Too bad I slept through the former during high school.

We follow Paula into the shop. Like most stores nowadays, it’s been trashed and ransacked. Most people are doing one of two things: eating like pigs or stocking up in case they survive. The reports in favor of survival predict that 60,000 of us will walk away from this thing without a scratch. I personally don’t buy it, but you never know. It’s interesting to think about which 60,000 might win the lottery. Hopefully there will be more women than there are men; that way they’ll be able to get the whole civilization ball rolling again. (And women like Paula notwithstanding, they’ll probably be more peaceful in the meantime.)

I wonder if there will be any geniuses in the new population. Mad scientists capable of drafting a new constitution or setting up a new economy. Well, even if there aren’t bona fide geniuses, there will be relative geniuses. Somebody—or some group—will be recognized as intellectually superior. With any luck, that person or group will have the moral strength to get it right next time.

Paula is pouring spring water over her head. Just as I pictured it before. Her wound comes into full view; it’s not as bad as I’d expected.

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