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Carly grimaced, but said nothing.
“Oatmeal is a good, hearty breakfast. Sticks to your ribs.”
She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a sip. “That sounds like a terrifying medical condition. Do you do this tai chi every morning?”
“Whenever I have the chance.” Justin’s smooth, slow movements were almost hypnotic. “It’s very good for you. Improves circulation and keeps you limber.”
“I’m limber enough.”
Justin cast her a naughty grin. “Yes, I think you are.”
Carly blushed and ducked her head.
He finished his routine and took his seat in the chair beside her. They sat in companionable silence for a moment. Carly took off her necklace and pulled the soda tab off the chain. She tossed it into the fire and fastened the chain around her neck again.
“I need to get you a new symbol,” Justin said.
Maybe a ring? The thought popped into her head unbidden, and she ducked her head to hide anything her face might reveal about her thoughts. Fortunately, he was involved in dishing out their breakfast and didn’t notice.
They crossed the U.S. border at mid-morning. Both sides had long lines of cars, frozen where they’d waited to be allowed to cross. Carly kept her eyes carefully to the side of the road, so she didn’t notice what Justin did.
“These cars have already been looted. There’s nothing left.”
“Perhaps the occupants took their stuff with them when they got out and walked.”
“Maybe some of them, but most of them are still sitting in the cars.”
Months after the Crisis. Carly remembered the flies and pressed the back of her hand over her mouth as nausea swept through her. Before they had approached the border, Justin had stopped them. He got a jar of menthol jelly from the medical supplies, and dabbed a smear of it on her upper lip. She hadn’t understood why at the time, but as they passed the line of cars, she did. The menthol numbed her nose so she couldn’t smell anything.
They passed through the border guard station. Justin reached into the pocket of his duffel bag. “Good thing I have this with me.” He held up his passport and then tossed it down on a pile of them lying near the door.
“Wait, Justin, don’t.” Carly picked it up and put it in her back pocket. “We may need it someday.”
Justin sounded a little amused. “For what?”
“Well, the government will start up again one day. We’ll want to be able to prove we’re citizens.” Carly didn’t have a passport—she had never needed one—but she had her birth certificate and driver’s license sealed in a plastic bag, buried deep within her pack.
Justin nodded. “You’re right in one respect, if survivors gather together, they’ll form a government, but it won’t be the same government we used to have, Carly. The United States is dead.”
He spoke with such finality that she stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“The survivors will be forming something like the Kingdom of Springfield, if anything. Democracy is a luxury for wealthy civilizations. In this new world, where we all cling to survival, strength will determine the ruler, not a tally of votes.” Justin’s voice was indifferent, as though he were delivering a lecture to a class of students, not talking about the fate of their society.
Carly, who had been raised to revere democracy and the Constitution, was horrified. “So, we’ve devolved back to warlords and fiefdoms?”
“It’s what I’ve seen in every nation when the centralized government went to hell,” he said, and his voice was grim. “Society has been stripped to its bare bones. There’s nothing to stop the strong or more aggressive from preying on the weak. People will band together under a strong leader and hope for safety in numbers. And the criminals will band up as well.”
Carly tilted up her chin. “We can still be Americans if we want to be. We’re starting over and this time, maybe we can get it right.”
His eyes held a touch of pity, which irritated her. “Maybe.”
“I don’t understand this, Justin. You served the U.S. and its government, shed your blood for it, judging by your scars. I would think you would want the government to be restored to what it was.”
“And perhaps my familiarity with it is one of the reasons why I’m not so eager to see it restored.”
“You’re such a pessimist,” she retorted. That offhand tone of his was really starting to irk her, but it occurred to her that he might be trying to feign indifference to hide how he really felt. She watched him more closely, but if it was a mask, it was firmly in place, and she didn’t catch a glimpse of any other emotion.
“I prefer realist. Successful self-governance requires a civic-minded populace willing to personally sacrifice for the greater good. It goes against human nature. You say maybe we can get it right if we try again, and I say we did very well in the old days. With basic survival uncertain, we’re not going to improve on the system any time soon.”
