Chapter 11
The post office parking lot was half-empty when Charlotte arrived, unusual for a Thursday morning. She pulled into her regular spot, noting the missing bustle. No line of carriers waited to clock in, and the building itself seemed quieter as she entered.
In the break room, there was a handwritten note that said the coffee machine was out of order and to use the one in the supervisor’s office. Charlotte filled her travel mug there and nodded to Debbie, the morning supervisor, bent over a spreadsheet at her desk.
“You’re here,” Debbie said, looking up. “Wasn’t sure if you’d make it in with everything going on.”
“Everything?” Charlotte asked.
“The alert. The school closures. Half of my carriers called out. They were keeping their kids home or didn’t want to be out in this air. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is the air quality really that bad?”
Debbie shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve noticed anything different. They closed the schools, though. Your route’s ready if you want it. I’ve got Martinez on the east side and Patel on the north. The rest will have to wait until tomorrow or whenever this blows over.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’ll take it.”
“You sure? No one would blame you if you wanted to sit this one out. Management’s being pretty understanding, given the circumstances.”
It was tempting. She could go home, check on Sophia, and stay close to her family while whatever was happening played out. Home meant waiting and watching the news for updates that never explained anything. On her route, she’d at least feel useful.
“I’m sure,” she said. “The mail won’t deliver itself.”
“You’re a lifesaver. The route’s in the usual spot. The truck’s gassed up and ready to go.”
The sorting area was as quiet as the rest of the building.
Only three other carriers were at their stations, working with the focused efficiency of people trying not to think too hard about why they were among the few who had shown up.
They nodded to Charlotte as she passed, but the usual banter was absent.
Her route was laid out on the long table in the corner, the mail already sorted into the familiar pattern of her delivery sequence.
Charlotte organized it into her truck: letters in one tray, magazines in another, packages loaded last. The routine was so familiar she could do it automatically.
She climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirror, fastened her seatbelt, and pulled onto Main Street toward her first stop.
Main Street should have been bustling. Instead, it was eerily quiet.
Many storefronts remained dark, their “Closed” signs displayed.
The few pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks in paper masks.
At the first intersection, Charlotte waited at a red light, watching only three cars pass through the cross street.
The roads had the abandoned feel of a holiday, though the sky overhead remained clear. She made her first delivery at a small accounting firm that was, surprisingly, open for business. The receptionist looked up with visible relief when Charlotte entered.
“You’re still making deliveries? I thought for sure the mail would stop with everything going on.”
“That’s not how it works,” Charlotte said. “Rain, sleet, dark of night, remember?”
The woman laughed. “I guess so. It’s just strange out there. My husband’s company sent everyone home. My boss says that until they actually order an evacuation, we stay open. Between you and me, I think he’s more worried about losing the Hanson account than about us.”
“What are people worried about? The alert just mentioned air quality.”
“You haven’t heard? They’re saying it might be connected to what’s happening overseas, with the SNA. Some kind of chemical or biological release. That’s what people are saying online. They think that’s why schools are closing, and people are being told to stay inside.”
“Would they?”
“Remember how they handled the pandemic? First, it was nothing to worry about; then it was just the flu; then we were locking down the whole country. Governments don’t like to cause panic.”
Charlotte left the mail on the counter and slipped back out to her truck, the conversation replaying in her mind. The idea was preposterous, the stuff of action movies and conspiracy theories. Still, it explained the school closures, deserted streets, and masks on pedestrians’ faces.
Her next several stops did nothing to quiet her concerns. People were staying at home. Companies were sending workers away. The few who remained spoke in hushed tones about rumors. The SNA had deployed a new weapon. The government was covering up the true extent of the threat.
By the halfway point of her route, Charlotte had developed a system.
She delivered the mail, accepted whatever fragment of information was offered, and moved on without confirming or denying the increasingly outlandish theories.
It wasn’t her place to speculate or add to the fear that had settled over the neighborhood.
Yet as she drove between stops, she couldn’t help noticing what was missing.
No children were playing in the yard despite the beautiful weather.
No retirees worked in gardens or walked dogs.
No delivery trucks made their rounds, and no construction crews worked on the half-finished development at the end of Maple Street.
The few vehicles she passed were practical: police cruisers, an ambulance making a non-emergency run, and the white van of the electric company.
Charlotte pulled up to the next house on her list, a neat colonial with a carefully tended front garden.
The curtains were drawn, and no car sat in the driveway.
She selected the letters for that address and made her way up the walk.
As she approached the porch, she noticed something that made her steps falter.
The plants in the front garden, vibrant just the day before, hung limp from their stems, with leaves curled and brown at the edges as if they’d been scorched.
The damage was uniform across the entire garden and affected every species equally.
Charlotte stared at the withered blooms, a cold certainty settling in her stomach.
Whatever was happening, it wasn’t just in people’s imaginations.
Something fundamental and threatening had changed, and she was standing in the middle of it, delivering mail.