Who: Cal, Karen, and Maizie Where: the lending library, the LBJ What: a supply delivery reaches the stranded LBJ residents When: day 2 of the siege, the afternoon of January 9th
The moment the barricade came down, the dozen people stranded in the lending library crowded against the door, jostling each other for a better view of what was happening outside. Only Maizie stayed back, rolling her eyes slightly as she crossed her arms. How were the people coming from the outside supposed to get in, with everyone standing in the way? She tried raising the question, but no one seemed to hear her, which was pretty par for the course over the past 24 hours, or however long they’d been trapped here. (She wasn’t completely sure of the current time, actually. Her phone battery had died this morning, and it wasn’t like she wore a watch.)
As she watched the others continue to act like zombie-wrangling was a spectator sport, Maizie sighed. Finally, after several more agonizing minutes of waiting, a person — no, two people — approached the entrance to the lending library. There was a scrape as someone threw the bolt and then the door swung out and the waiting pair were met with a barrage of questions before they’d even set a foot inside.
Maizie shoved her way to the front of the group, berating the others as she went. “Alright, be quiet! Get out of the way, you’re blocking them. Jeez, you guys.” She waved for the pair to come farther into the building. The two agents practically swam through the needy crowd, carrying heavy bags loaded up on their backs.
They looked exhausted, bedraggled. They’d been up since dawn, and it had been a long-ass day trying to reach the buildings Savannah pointed out as being the most in crisis—with the tacit understanding that the lending library held her daughter.
(It wasn’t the only consideration in their hitting it up first, but Cal couldn’t lie and say it hadn’t been a consideration.)
“Get back, get back,” Sergeant Davidson barked at the crowd, his voice turned uncharacteristically sharp and authoritative. The man was a Department of Resources agent today, not the easygoing laidback Southerner the library normally knew.
He glanced at his partner. How did they want to handle this? Karen shared glances with him, and made a gesture with her arm outstretched. Forming lines?
She glanced to Maizie for input. “Just a minute now,” she said, and it was Cal’s partner who showed—well, certainly something else. Sympathy might have been it, but Karen knew privately what it was. Guilt, stark and certain, no doubt about it. Setting out before the light hit the city, the pair of agents carving a path through the restless undead, whatever aches and complaints her body put forth from the effort couldn’t compare.
Karen reached up to adjust the heavy bag on her back, her hands smelling like gunsmoke. “We’ve got this.”
Under normal circumstances, Maizie might have been wary of the DoR agents, given where they and their supplies came from, but there was no room left in her for it today. She was filled up with being tired and hungry and frustrated and, beneath all that, scared. Besides, Savannah trusted them, and that was enough. So she found herself taking another step toward the two agents, subtly aligning herself with them as she turned to address the rest of the small group. For once, they listened.
“We’ll split up whatever they brought us evenly, okay? Everyone will get a share.” A few frowns greeted her words, but nobody objected. After a moment, Maizie nodded.
Cal looked down and recognised Maizie in the very moment she took her place beside them; he hadn’t ever spent much time with her but knew the girl by sight, from the days he used to haunt this shelter more often.
The agents dropped their duffels behind her, and while Karen started herding the people into lines— unsurprisingly, all of the stranded survivors had come to the entrance, desperate for supplies—Cal started counting them off. Twelve. That wasn’t so bad.
“Water first,” he announced, stooping to zip open his bag and gather up some bottles. The man was wary and alert, and there was no question that if any of them got rowdy, he’d respond sharply; in that moment, Davidson looked like a Capitol man through-and-through. Because he had to. “My partner will distribute the food. Today’s menu includes protein bars and canned spaghetti. I get it ain’t the best, but no complaints, y’all.”
Karen quickly went about the motions of handing out the rations, spare offerings and sparse words exchanged, the tension quietly building along her own alert frame. (The least that they could do, an inward voice chided.)
When Cal glanced back at the blonde standing squarely next to them, he softened. Handed her a bottle of water. “Y’alright, Maizie?”
Karen spared the two an interested glance, but the eager crowd of library denizens that had formed an awkward queue in front of the agents were enough to divide her attention.
With a nod and a thank you, Maizie opened the bottle and took a small swallow. Having more would have been nice, but she knew the water would have to last as long as possible. Only after did she reply to Cal, looking up at the taller man with a weary smile as she screwed the lid back on tightly.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” She wasn’t, really, but after all the trouble he and his partner had already gone through on their behalf, Maizie wasn’t about to unload a bunch of complaints. “Thanks for coming.”
With a furtive glance over at the others nearby, she lowered her voice and added, “Have you spoken to Savannah today? Are they safe? It looks, well, really bad from here, but it’s hard to tell.”
“I have, and they are. I mean, as safe as they can be. Probably more secure than you guys out here, to be honest. Kay, what’d you think, when we drove in?” He glanced at his partner. An instinctive checking of her pulse, like reading the barometer that was Sgt Sharpe.
“Five-by-five,” Karen said, automatic, a slip to inside language between the two agents. After handing out another ration her attention returned however -- and after a beat of realization, she shook her head in apology.
“Doing alright,” she affirmed, that short and certain punctuation to her partner’s usual chatter. Firm, the words pinned sharply against her own ears (hard to hear, from her own mouth). “She needs anything more, we’ll be around besides.”
Hearing this, Maizie nodded, though she didn’t look entirely convinced. She twisted the water bottle in her hands, trying not to think about the all-too-familiar hollow feeling in her stomach. Cal and Karen certainly seemed like they knew what they were doing, like they had buckets of exactly the kind of experience that she lacked. If they both said that the LBJ was alright, then she could probably trust that.
“Okay,” she said, at last. “I appreciate you being straight with me. ‘Cause I’d wanna know, you know? But it will be good for everyone to hear that they’re holding out over there. Funny how the main building feels so much farther away today than it did yesterday morning.” Maizie gave the pair of DoR officers a weak smile.
“Do you guys need anything, other than a chance to catch your breath? Or do you have to get back out of here before it gets bad again?”
The agents exchanged another wordless glance, an assessment of priorities. They seemed to reach some sort of unspoken conclusion, because then Cal cleared his throat and said, “Thanks, Maizie. But if you’re okay here, then we ought to be on our way and see what else good we can do outside—we’re not gonna be of any use if we get stuck in here too, just two more mouths to feed.”
Cal gave a flicker of a smile, one that he hoped was reassuring. “Savannah’s gonna be glad to hear you’re okay, though. Just hold out, alright, kid? It looks like you’ve got things in hand. Everyone’s gonna get y’all outta here as soon as the zeds are cleared.”
“Hang tight until,” Karen agreed and offered up a reassuring nod (hoping somehow to reassure herself as well). The two agents checked over their gear and said their short farewells. It had hardly seemed like a moment of calm had been given them before the two were out the doors and charging into danger again, leaving at once a sliver of hope behind them.
There was a small part of Mazie — okay, a large part — that wanted to run out of the building too, and all the way back to the LBJ. Instead, she pulled the door shut tight and twisted the lock, the bolt scraping again as it slid home. For a beat or two she watched the two DoR agents' retreat, before purposefully turning away.
Maizie looked over the others who were trapped there with her. Most of them were still focused on what was happening outside, faces reflecting the same longing she felt. They all needed something else to think about. She swallowed against the dryness in the back of her throat.
"Alright, let's get the barricade back up so we can eat. I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving."