Gracie Abrams is eking out a solitary existence, fighting day-in, day-out against the drain of working customer service and nursing two newborn kittens in her off time. Out on her own ever since her sister moved in with her boyfriend, the burden of...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Kirishima and I ended up going to the vet, instead.
When I gave them a call, I didn't know how to properly word my question, so I just asked, "Are you still open?" Unsaid were the words, "During the apocalypse?"
The vet clinic was on the far south side of the downtown block, even farther down than the Wolf Den. Despite their proximity to the mayhem, they were the only vet office taking calls.
"If you can get here," the receptionist sighed, "we're open."
With that, we bundled the kittens up in the dual carrier and sped off into the great unknown. I felt like we were in a zombie movie with how few people we ran into. There were even streets with abandoned cars sitting lifeless in the lanes, doors thrown open, belongings littered along the ground. My hands clenched against the wheel as I tried not to think of the possibilities for why those fleeing this city had gotten out of their cars.
But then I found out why soon enough. Amanda's text had mentioned something about a National Guard blockade. Well. There it was.
A stream of cars trickled slowly past dozens of orange barriers with uniformed national guardsmen standing around, guns slung across their bodies. Not much help those would do other than causing collateral damage. Hadn't they seen the spear? Did they really think a gun was going to help them?
The kittens did not like being locked up. Their mewls grew ever more incessant, and I feared the way Kirishima was slouched at the door handle, grabbing it, then setting it back down, then grabbing it again. It created a dull clicking noise that put me in something of a trance. Even as I inched the car forward, I kept looking at that door handle out of the corner of my eye. I imagined this was what people felt when mesmerized by clicking their cigarette lighters.
I half-wondered if I would get into an altercation with the guardsmen, but they let me pass without much more than a perusing glance. Some of the cars had taken ages to get through the blockade, yet we were able to pass by so easily. Was it because we didn't have bags of luggage spilling over the seats? But they hadn't even asked to look inside the trunk.
Why were the citizens of Mayhop not allowed to leave, anyway? Because the mass exodus would be too much for other cities without preparation first? I didn't think that mattered right now. If people felt safer leaving, then they should be allowed to do that.
I didn't understand the government's first instinct to send in military forces to ward against regular citizens. Or why "trapping" was their first tactic.
If Naruto and My Hero Academia and Fullmetal Alchemist and who knows what else are all real, then I couldn't help but wonder if there was a story from my world, too. This world. Who could possibly be the main character?
