The Neighborhood

By William Avett

*****

Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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This is a work of fiction and any characters, names, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, businesses, establishments, events, etc are entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2010 by William Avett

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/williamavett

*****

Marjory closed the front behind her, leaving it unlocked.  Even though her husband wasn’t due home for some time, she still felt safe in their neighborhood, secure in the belief that no one would enter their home uninvited. 
Reaching up, she carefully adjusted her goggles and filter mask, making sure that no particles could find their way into her lungs, and walked cautiously into the carport where she had parked the sedan.  Marjory Millings opened the car door, sat down on the seat, and with gloved hands removed the booties from her feet, tossing them deftly into a nearby garbage can.  Next, she closed the door in earnest and started the engine.
Marjory quickly engaged the special filters on her vehicle, and let the engine warm up.  After a few minutes she backed the sedan out onto the street with little concern for other vehicles or nearby pedestrians.  
Whistling a popular tune, she drove up to the main intersection, turned right, negotiated the vehicle past several blockades and finally saw her first human, an elderly woman walking her dog.  The lady wore a mask, but no other protection, and Marjory questioned the wisdom of such an excursion, even here supposedly well outside the danger zone.
She then turned right on Fenton Street and pulled in front of the local hardware store.  Marjory carefully removed her protective clothing and left them in the car.  It would not do her any good to scare the customers and give management an excuse to expel her from the store.
Still, when she brought huge rolls of plastic sheeting and duct tape, along with special air filters and a variety of cleaning products to the front counter, she knew their suspicions were aroused.  But, she paid with cold hard cash, and quickly left the store with her supplies.
Stowing them in the trunk, she then headed over to Mark’s Survival Outfitter, and bought an extra HAZMAT suit made in Israel.  They were army surplus, but of generally high quality.  She also bought another two-dozen booties, optional protective clothing, two extra facemasks and a water purifier.
After loading the supplies into the car, she decided to call her husband Frank.  
“Honey, this is Marge,” she said.  “I bought the basic supplies you wanted.”
“Great,” replied her husband.
“Should I do any regular shopping, or do we have enough on hand?”
“What about dinner?”
“I was thinking about the left over roast, and then maybe a bean salad.”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“Ok.  See you at home.”
“Bye, Hun.”
“Bye.”
Marjory and her husband had only been married for six months, but to her it already seemed like years.  Thankfully, Frank was an easygoing man, practical, hardworking, and willing to face certain facts of life.  And, one fact they encountered at an early age was that in an America where the population was pushing 900 million, a person had to make some difficult lifestyle choices.
She had approved of this quality in her fiancé, and so had married him quickly once he popped the question.  Now, they had just purchased their first home, and were excited.  Sure, it was in the Zone, but they really couldn’t afford anything else, and felt they had to take the risk.  Besides, in time Frank would get promoted at the soy plant, and they could move out in ten or twelve years.
Marjory Millings sighed in resignation contemplating their future happiness, and started the engine of her sedan.  She really did need to get home and start supper, and it was getting late already.  In fact, Frank might be home right now, and Marjory didn’t want to get caught in rush hour traffic.  So, she guided her vehicle onto the main street, and this time took a roundabout route to their neighborhood, so as not to arouse suspicion.
At the first Zone barrier, she stopped to move it out of the way, and almost forgot to put on her protective clothing.  She had a difficult time getting the suit on inside the car, but finally closed the last clasp and adjusted the respirator.  She then carefully stepped out the door, and dragged the barricade aside.  Marjory saw a kid down the street watching her, but knew he wouldn’t come any closer without protective gear. 
The next roadblock she simply drove around, realizing she was now in the heart of the Zone.  She saw no one.  Marjory negotiated three more blocks, turned onto her own street and soon pulled into the driveway before their modest suburban home.
She immediately noticed that her husband had indeed beaten her home, and realized that he must have left work earlier than she expected.
Marjory got out and began to carry in the supplies when she first noticed the new neighbors.  Three houses down and across the street she saw a large trailer parked in front of a house, and suited figures were unloading various boxes and furniture.  They were very careful not to drop anything, and vacuumed each item before taking it inside.
She sighed and turned back to their home.  Behind the front door was the built-in decontamination foyer, where she set down all the supplies she’d purchased.  Later in the evening she’d spray them down.
Her husband Frank heard her, and donning his own protective gear, came outside to help.  He stopped and pointed down the street at the new neighbors, and Marjory nodded that she had seen them.
Working as an efficient team, Marjory and her husband finally got all the supplies inside and decontaminated.  Then they each took a thorough shower as a precaution.  Marjory started on the bean salad, and put the leftover roast into the microwave.
The conversation at dinner that night inevitably led to the subject of the new family moving in just three houses down.
“Can you believe it?” asked Marjory.  “The realtor swore no one would buy these houses for years.”
“At least our property values will go up,” Frank commented.  Marjory’s husband always tried his best to find the bright side of things.
“Yeah, slowly,” she replied with disgust.  “But look at all the work we’ve gone through to have any chance of surviving in this Level Five toxic waste dump.  Don’t they know how difficult it will be for them?”
“They may,” her husband agreed.  “But considering the demand for housing, I guess it’s not surprising that people other than us would have the same idea.”
“Yah, I guess so,” she sighed.  “Well, no more leaving the house unlocked during the day.”
“True,” Frank agreed.  “There goes the neighborhood.”