The air grows hot and humid as the sun rises above the flooded residential neighborhood. In one of the streets reclaimed by the ocean, the fishing boat stands still with its moorings tied to the half-submerged houses, their flat rooftops serving as an improvised pier.
Dead palm trees, rusty streetlamps, and bent traffic lights poke out the brown water near the vessel. At first glance, the boat seems more dignified thanks to the new coat of paint around its hull, yet a closer inspection reveals its almost as rusted and dilapidated as before.
On its deck a tall woman dressed in a blue foul weather jacket scans the rooftop j with a pair of binoculars while two preteen boys lay on their stomachs behind her, their heads covered with golden sacks and their bodies bent in a hogtied with their wrists and ankles tied together behind their backs. They periodically mumble and struggle against their restraints yet do not make much noise due to the gags in their mouths.
Inside the boat's cabin, a second, older woman —dressed also in blue clothes— types fast on a paper-thin smartphone with a wooden back. The sixty-something white woman has an elegant, thin complexion and long white hair with pink highlights tied in a ponytail. Her tattooed fingers move in a blur over the phone's screen as she finishes writing a long message and clicks 'send'.
She slides the phone back in her pants pocket, glances outside at the woman with binoculars who watches the end of the flooded street. The old woman follows the binocular's line of vision and narrows her eyes, sees a vehicle approaching in the distance.
An old and battered Tesla truck screeches to a stop just where the ocean swallows the asphalt road. Two figures dressed in black tactical gear, skull-like face paint, and assault rifles over their shoulders jump out of the truck's bed and split. One of them, a skinny woman with a buzz cut, pops the truck's tailgate to unload the cargo while her partner, a thin woman with short braids, walks to the cabin and engages in small talk with the driver.
"What a night, uh?" she muses. The driver laughs.
The woman with the buzz cut reaches inside the truck's bed and slides two more gagged and hogtied preteen boys in their pajamas, which she deposits on the ground as if they were heavy suitcases. She closes the tailgate, grabs both kids with each hand, and tries to carry them all by herself towards the nearest building, stopping just a few yards later to rest.
The woman with braids notices her partner's struggles, bumps fists with the driver, and hurries to help her. The Tesla makes a U-turn and drives away with a hum, the sound of its tires on the cracked pavement quickly fading in the distance.
"What's your deal lately with trying to become Wonder Woman?" asks the woman with braids as she helps her carry the captured boys inside the half-sunken house, "First you spend all day in the gym, now this? Are you trying to impress the boss or something?"
The woman with the buzz cut snorts "Girl, if only it were that easy..." she puts her struggling boy on the floor to readjust her grip "No, it's my fiancée who I'm trying to impress. She's been a bundle of anxiety lately, and I want her to... you know..." she lifts the boy over her shoulders, shrugs, "Feel safe when she's in my arms."
"Safe?" the woman with braids repeats in a mocking tone. She lifts her own hogtied boy over her shoulders and steps inside the house, heading to the roof "You have a fucking armory at your place! You could single-handedly overthrow this latest government, if you decided!!"
They both laugh as they reach the rooftop, carrying the twitching preteens as if they were big flour sacks. They walk across the rooftop and over a wooden plank connecting the house to the next. Similar planks connect the rest of the rooftops, forming a path to the fishing boat docked further away.
"Maybe, but I may have to say goodbye to that firepower. I'll probably have to sell or give away most of my guns" continues the thin woman with the buzz cut "Now that she's moving to my place, I'll have to put them under lock or find other ways to keep 'em out of reach." she shakes her head "And even then, they may get curious in the future, and I don't want them to get hurt."
The woman with braids stares at her partner with a bewildered look, unable to grasp her line of reasoning. Suddenly, she realizes something and stops in her tracks. The skinny woman stops as well, throws her a questioning look.
"Wait! Dude…! Are you...?" the woman with braids stutters, her voice growing in excitement, "Are you and your girl expecting the Stork to knock on your door soon?"
The woman with the buzzcut is unable to repress a smile. "I don't know what made you think that…" she says with a shrug and continues walking.
Her partner looks amazed, rushes to catch her, "No freaking way! No freaking way!" she squeaks while shaking her shoulders.
"Hey, get off me, girl!"
"DUDE!!! How am I just learning about this? We must celebrate BIG time! This is incredible!" she pauses, tilts her head, "Wait… How the hell did YOU pass the government's background checks?"
Suddenly, the woman with the buzzcut turns and pushes the woman with braids to crouch close, bringing them to whispering distance. The tied boys over their shoulders bounce against each other and mumble a complaint.
"Shhh! That's enough! I'll tell you more later..."
The childish excitement in the face of her partner slowly transitions into one of apprehension.
"Wait... You did get a letter from the Stork... right? Otherwise, how did you two got pregn...?" her voice trails off, she raises her eyebrows and points at the fishing boat ahead with an are-you-serious? Kind of look.
The woman with the buzzcut grunts and pushes her hand down.
"LATER, I said!" she hisses, then reincorporates and continues walking.
The woman with braids shakes her head, mumbles something to herself, and follows her.
***