Chapter 1: Dottie
The circle of knitters swam in my vision as I attempted to untangle the yarn barf that was currently holding my project hostage. I was drunk. No, nix that. I washammered. The entire knitting club was, all thanks to Nina bringing in several bottles of her latest homemade moonshine. She’s hoping to get something tasty enough to actually sell at the next Trader’s Market.
The good news was that this batch was ultra-tasty. So much so that I’d gone back for seconds. The bad news was that it was also deceptively strong. We’d all rocketed pastslightly buzzedand alittle tipsyand all the way todrunk off our assesbefore we knew it. And now we were a room full of extremely drunk knitters trying to remember the difference between a make-one-left and a make-one-right.
Luckily for me, I preferred my knitting projects to be easy and mindless, and I wasn’t trying to figure out the fancy lace knit shawl that the rest of them were knitting. I chose projects that were mostly just stockinette in the round. I could just continue knitting the same mindless stitch over and over from now until I ran out of yarn. That was, if I could get the yarn to cooperate.
We were so loud doing all the fun things that drunk people did, arguing and laughing and making jokes, that we’d actually received not one, but two noise complaints. By the time poor Roger had shown up at our door the second time trying to put on his best stern face, it was already dark out. Though, to our credit, it was early spring and it got dark quite early.
“Sorry, Roge,” Natalie said. She was the closest to the door. “We’ll tone it down.”
“Lights go out in fifteen,” Roger said. “Y’all should start heading back to your rooms.”
Fifteen? I looked up at the clock. “Wow! It’s almost ten!”
There was a chorus of shocked exclamations and panicked squeals as several mothers and one father—men knit too—realized they’d left their younger children in the daycare past pickup time, and their kids probably thought they’d left them for good. Poor things.
I was glad to be done with that phase of my life before the bugs came, but at the same time, I rather envied the support systems these parents had now. Raising children during the apocalypse may be more dangerous and unpredictable, but there was no rushing to get the kids to soccer practice or dance lessons.
Don’t get me wrong, those things absolutely did exist, just in different forms. But everything was nearby and often set up as part of the system to give parents time off so they could work and actually be part of a functioning community.
This knitting club, for example, was considered an official community-building activity, which was why we had use of this meeting room once a week from right after the second shift until lights out at ten o’clock.
Like many successful settlements in the bugpocalypse, New New Franklin, often shortened to just New Franklin, worked on a two-shifts-a-day basis. It was centered around when the scourge, the alien space bugs that had descended on the planet years ago, were the least busy.
And despite having already destroyed the nest at the downtown core of the old town of Franklin, we still kept those hours.
Stuffing my future sweater dress, tangled yarn and all, into my project bag, I searched the area for my glasses. I didn’t need them when I was knitting, especially stockinette in the round, but I did need them to get back home, especially in the dark; my eyesight was really crappy in the dark.
“They're behind your cup,” Natalie said with a wry smile.
She was right. I grabbed my glasses, shoved them on my face, then picked up the cup, eyeing the liquid warily. No fancy wine glasses for us. There was still a tiny chug at the bottom, but I was already pretty smashed as it was. Next to me, Janice, who ruled the roost over at our building’s kitchen, picked up her cup and shrugged.
“Waste not, want not.” Then she downed the remainder in a big gulp.
Eh, it wasn’t like I had to wake up early tomorrow. My shift at the library wasn’t until after lunch. I shrugged and did the same.
The moment it hit my stomach, I realized I’d officially drunk too much. Oh well. I was on my way home anyway. I’d just make sure to drink some extra water before I went to sleep.
Janice, Natalie, and I lined up at the sink to rinse out our cups and put them on the drying rack. And with a quick round of goodbyes and the promise to meet again next week,we all headed out. Some hurried off to the community daycare just a few hallways down. New Franklin was small enough that we raised our children as a village. And as daily survival tasks like getting enough calories and not dying became easier, more people were freed up to extend daycare hours and run afterschool activities, so everyone could actually have hobbies again.
The rest of us exited the extensive community center for the residential buildings. Janice and I lived in the original survivor building; we were roommates. And Natalie lived in the hunters’ building, which was just a little farther away.
“You know what?” I said as I threw on my parka, which was a little overkill for the current temperature. Technically it was already spring, but this morning had been a tad chilly. I was glad I’d brought my parka out because it was even colder now that the sun had set. “I was unhappy when they decided to move all the fun stuff out of the main survivor building, but I’m kind of glad now, even with extra back and forth we have to do.”
“Me too,” Janice said. “I already work and live in the same building. I’d go stir crazy if I didn’t have an excuse to leave.”
“It’s such a small thing, but it makes it feel like we’re actually living and not just existing, you know?”
Both women nodded in agreement. And then we opened the doors and stepped out into the cool early-spring night.
The walk back to the building was quick and eventless, protected under the covered pathways, and we soon found ourselves in front of the first building. I was happy and tipsy, and feeling warmer than I should with the booze, and my brain naturally went to food procurement. That should sober me up a bit and make the next morning a little easier to handle.
“Go on ahead,” I said to Janice. “I have some books I need to offload at the hunters’ compound.” I hefted my oversized bookbag.
“Oh! You have the manuals!” Natalie exclaimed, probably a little louder than she meant to. “Rajiv’k’s been excited to get his hands on them.”
Rajiv’k was Natalie’s Xarc’n warrior mate. The Xarc’n warriors were muscle-bound alien fighters who’d arrived on Earth shortly after the scourge had. They followed the abominations across the galaxy in an attempt to wipe them off every planet they tried to take over.
