Reply #1: Finish part 9

[undergroundpanther]

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Part 9: Hanging on by a thread
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She says she's too tired to wait for the bus. Sarah doesn't think she has a fever, Luz Maria says she just needs to rest. You finally finish laying the carpet for the office park in the satellite county where it took you a couple of days to notice what was different. Chucho figured it out. No buses.
The county had a referendum, opted out of the MetroWideRide, security concerns, property values, just better for everybody, the fast food restaurants leased their own buses, they bring the workers in, take them out, some businesses went in together on a bus, most just contracted out for their cleaners and coffee servers, entry level clerical, pay the agency $12 an hour, agency pays the worker $6, worth the difference to the companies, fewer problems that way, they do all the background, credit checks,psychological testing. Chucho shakes his head, what a country, gotta pass a credit check to mop floors now.
Cat's name gets called on the second Indigent Care pink ticket day. Mono. Rest. Luz Maria graciously says nothing. Cat won't be going anywhere until next semester, anyway. You are a monster, you are glad your daughter has mono.
One by one, your ties to Them fall away. The chicken plant jumps on the "records update" bandwagon, and has to cut back a shift, so many "invalid addresses," start checking social security numbers, says Eusebio, and they'll have to close the whole plant down.

There won't be any more showers. The bus station has changed it's shower-locker use policy, now you have to have a ticket, and to get a ticket, you have to have ID. Juan tries to make you one, like he saw in a movie once, a bucket and string tied to a tree. Another lesson in humility, a well-timed one, too. The last time you saw Jason, he was in his Beemer, Game-Boy-anesthetized kids in the back, fresh from soccer, passenger seat full of balls, smelly little shoes, I'm soccer dad today, he yelled, come swim this weekend, watch the game by the pool. Today he is crouched on the sidewalk, a few blocks from the shelter Angela said stay away from, vomiting, bad batch of something, he just needs to get back on his feet, has some ideas for a new start-up, problem is, investors, these days, Michele took the kids back to her dad's hardware store, guess I'm like you now, wife makes more money than me. He used to tease you about Sarah's salary, she deserves it, you told him, woman can code without a monitor. Once you watched her make Windows run on an XT. Now, Jason tells you that Michele never did get it, hardware store hell, wants more for his kids than that. Should you ask him if he'd like to come live in a hut and have a bucket shower? Instead, you take bus fare from the money you have in your pocket ($9.47) and give him the rest, for his start-up.

Randy looks relieved when you tell him not to worry, you don't want to go in, just thought that was him, Sarah, the kids are fine, you tell him, no need to go into details, fine has come to mean still alive, Randy is a smart guy, got the security guard job while he still had a car, while you were still drycleaning suits and going for interviews in office parks with people who had no intention of giving you a job, and no budget to give you one either, people who had themselves already very quietly let the au pair go. Security guards are everywhere now, supermarkets, discount pharmacies, everywhere the poor might try to pee. You know Don got on at Lockheed? just in time, too, bank was after his house, Randy shouldn've listened to him on that one, but can't complain, didn't need that much room anyway, just the 4 of us, not like we spend so much time there anyway, you know how that is, Carpet? well now that's something, working with Mexicans, I bet, yeah some of them do better than - scuse me - Sir! Excuse me, Sir, can I help you? No, sir, I'm, sorry, not for public use, customers only, have a good day, Sir.
Before, you might have thought it was rude to just walk away without saying good-bye to Randy, really, you had already said good-bye to everybody and everything from Before, don't know what got into you today, maybe the chicken plant closing, the thing with the bus station, an increasing awareness of how little now connects you to Them, not much left but buses, Indigent Care, Planned Parenthood for Sarah and Cat, steal things like aleve, sinus pills, toothbrushes, hanging on by a thread to a society to which you used to be bound with knots and whorls of thick rope, and you are surprised to find that lately, you seem to focus more on how to break that thread than re-attach the ropes.

A woman passes you, two dirty children in tow, all laden with plastic bags. The stores put chips on the shopping carts now, beep if you take them out of the parking lot, you don't hear the beep, but the security guard does.
The line is long at the check casher's. Will this be your last visit, you wonder? Probably not, people occasionally cut checks for the carpet jobs, whoa, chicken plant close down or somepm? the girl at the window is friendly, not much older than Cat, I ain't had nothin but crying chicken cutters today, she counts out bills into the young man's hand, flirting with her eyes. Where will they all go, you wonder, will Eusebio be bringing any of them out to the - you still don't have a name for it - place where the huts are. Why name a place that can be destroyed in an hour, in fact, you don't know if it will be there today. Suddenly, you are anxious, annoyed at the girl, hurry up, you think, give him your number if you want, just keep the line moving.
But tonight, at least, it is there, like a post-apocalyptic scene in a bad movie with a very low budget, smoke rising from the fires, the scrap brick oven, plastic tarps gold in the sunset, Sarah braiding Cat's hair, from one hut the soft sound of Luz Maria and Concepcion singing, reminding you how absent music has been from your life, except for their singing, Chucho is making a hammock for Cat, In the distance, Juan is trying to fit what looks like bagpipes, minus the bag, somewhere under the alleged future truck, Cat's friend, a tiny, strange little girl named Sierra, crawls out from under the truck, yells at Juan, throws the bagpipes at his feet, and climbing on the bumper, almost disappears under the hood, muffled shouts to Juan, hops down, pushes Juan into the driver's seat, still scolding. There is a horrible ripping sound, a small explosion, and the truck belches, coughs, and rolls out toward the road.

Another strand of thread has broken.