The Dead and the Gone ls-2

by Susan Beth Pfeffer

  “Fair enough,” Alex said.

  “Okay, then,” Kevin said. “Let’s get going. Want to walk across on Eighty-eighth?”

  “No,” Alex said. “How about Eighty-ninth instead?”

  Kevin grinned. “It’s taboo, isn’t it,” he said. “Body shopping on the block where you live. I feel that way, too, even though I don’t understand why. Father Mulrooney could probably explain it.”

  The boys walked up West End Avenue to Eighty-ninth Street. Though there were some bodies on West End Avenue, Kevin walked right past them.

  “Nothing worth stopping for,” he explained. “You get so you can tell. The glint of a watch is a big help. Watches are always good, but shoes are better, and anything in a wallet: cash, IDs. Coats are a growth market. The colder it gets, the bigger the demand.”

  “And we can get food for all that?” Alex asked. The food in the Friday bags was getting sparser, and even though he skipped supper most nights and fasted on Saturdays, there was hardly enough for Julie.

  Kevin nodded. “You see what I seer” he asked, pointing to a body lying halfway down the block. “We got a fresh one.” He jogged over, Alex following him.

  It was a man, fully dressed but no coat. “I bet he’s been dumped within the past few minutes,” Kevin said. “Hardly stinks at all, but maybe that’s the menthol. You get the watch; I’ll look through the pockets.”

  Alex begged God’s forgiveness, and unstrapped the watch off the dead man’s wrist.

  “Nothing,” Kevin said with a shrug. “Different families handle it different ways. Some of them think ID’ll help somehow, before the bodies get dumped in the crematoriums. Others don’t want people to know their address. Guess this one is one of them. Shoes next. Nice ones, too. They were crazy not to keep them for themselves.”

  Alex pulled the left shoe off the body while Kevin took care of the right one.

  “This pair’s for you,” Kevin said. “Put them in your bag. Is that a body I see over there?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Alex said. “A woman.”

  “Men are better than women,” Kevin said. “Bigger demand for their shoes. But we should check anyway.”

  They crossed the street and walked to where the corpse was lying. Alex could smell it half a block down.

  “She’s a pungent one,” Kevin said. “And useless. Look at that: barefoot already.”

  ’How long do you think she’s been there?” Alex asked, the bitter taste of bile in his mouth. Most of the woman’s flesh had been eaten away, and he could see her partly gnawed bones sticking out from her dress.

  “Couple of days probably,” Kevin said. “Come on. I see a pile over there. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Alex followed Kevin to the corner of Eighty-ninth and Riverside Drive.

  “See how wet Riverside is?” Kevin asked. “That’s going to happen all over New York pretty soon. The wetter the city gets, the more people’ll need nice dry shoes. Hey, it’s a family. Look at that: Daddy, Mommy, and baby.”

  Alex stared at them. The mother’s arms had loosened and the baby had fallen next to her. The father was lying on top of them both.

  “I’m going to be sick,” Alex said.

  “Not on me,” Kevin said.

  Alex tore the mask off his mouth and turned away from Kevin. He had nothing in his system, but he retched violently. He felt Kevin’s hand on his shoulder and turned back to him.

  “If we don’t take their shoes, someone else will,” Kevin said. “See, they were all shot. I bet Daddy shot Mommy and the baby and then himself. Nice of him to do it on the street like this. Or maybe he carried them here and then shot himself. It doesn’t matter. I wonder how baby stuff will do. I’ve traded some kids’ things, but never any baby shoes. Booties, that’s what they call them, I think.”

  Alex remembered when Julie was born. I’m doing this for her, he told himself.

  “No coats,” Kevin said. “But looky here. Daddy’s got a brand-new gun.”

  Alex stared at it. “Are you going to trade it?” he asked.

  Kevin shook his head. “It could come in handy someday,” he said. “Okay if I keep it?”

  “Take it,” Alex said.

  “Great,” Kevin said. “You can have all the shoes, then. I’ll keep Daddy’s watch and you can have Mommy’s.”

  “Don’t call them that,” Alex said.

  “You don’t have to be so touchy,” Kevin said. “They’re just bodies. Their souls are in heaven or hell or wherever. Probably not Catholics anyway. Come on, take her shoes off. You got to get used to it.”

  Alex took a deep breath, then pulled off the woman’s shoes. Kevin unlaced the man’s and took them off. “I’ll do the booties,” Kevin said.

  “Thank you,” Alex said.

  Kevin shook his head. “You act like you never saw a dead body before,” he said. “What are you, a tourist:”

  “I don’t know,” Alex said. “It’s different actually touching them.”

  “It’ll be us soon enough,” Kevin said. “Tell you what. Let’s get our feet wet and walk up a couple more blocks. Then we’ll turn this stuff in. When all this turns into loaves and fishes, you’ll have a different outlook.”

  Alex doubted he’d ever feel differently about robbing the dead. But he followed Kevin up Riverside Drive. The water sploshed under his feet, and he could feel his socks getting wet. It was cold out, that weird, unnatural cold he couldn’t get accustomed to.

  “Do you think we’ll ever be warm again?” he asked Kevin.

  “We’ll be warm enough in hell,” Kevin said. “I’ve got a good feeling about Ninetieth. See? I told you.” He ran down the block.

  Alex caught up with him. This one wasn’t so bad, just an old dead guy. “He has glasses,” he said. “Is there a market for them?”

  “Good question,” Kevin said. “Let’s take them and find out. Nice watch. No coat, but I bet that sweater will be worth a can of Dinty Moore. Come on, help me pull it off.”

  Alex removed the man’s glasses and put them in his garbage bag. He grabbed one arm and Kevin grabbed the other, and they pulled the sweater off the body. Alex took the man’s loafers while Kevin searched through his pockets.

  “Bad day for wallets,” he said. “But on the whole a profitable morning’s shopping. You ready to trade in the stuff?”

  Alex nodded.

  “Then let’s get going,” Kevin said. “Maybe we’ll find some more stuff on the way over.”

  But the only corpses they saw were old and picked over.

  As they turned up Ninety-fifth, Alex spotted a body. “See it?” he asked.

  “Sure do,” Kevin said.

  Alex forced himself to go first. I’m doing this for Julie, he thought. God will forgive me. “He’s got his coat on,” he said.

  “I bet he dropped dead of a heart attack,” Kevin said. “Great find, Morales. See if there’s a wallet.”

  Kevin removed the man’s coat and Alex searched through his pants pocket for a wallet. “Found it!” Alex said.

  “It’s yours,” Kevin said. “You take the shoes and the watch and I’ll take the coat. Fair?”

  “Fair,” Alex said. “Is that a real Rolex?”

  “Looks that way,” Kevin said. “The coat’s cashmere. Well, I guess death comes to all of us sooner or later. Just sooner for him. We should do pretty well for ourselves today."’

  “Where next?” Alex asked, relieved the body-shopping part of the event had ended.

  “Harvey’s,” Kevin replied. “Our friendly neighborhood dealer. You’d better learn to love him, because he’s got the monopoly around here.”

  The sign in front of the store said harvey’s tailoring and alterations. Kevin walked in, with Alex following. An older man, bald and none too clean, sat behind the counter. The floor was covered with cartons and bags. It didn’t look like a tailor’s shop, and Alex doubted the man was the real Harvey.

  “Kevin,” the man said. “What you got today?”

&nb
sp; “Goodies,” Kevin replied. “Serious goodies. This is my friend Alex. You be nice to him, Harvey. He may be coming in here on his own, and I don’t want to hear you’ve been cheating him.”

  “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” Harvey said. “Show me what you got.”

  Alex and Kevin pulled everything except the gun from their bags.

  “Nice,” Harvey said, fingering the coat. “Very nice. Separate checks?”

  Kevin nodded.

  “Two bottles of vodka for your stuff,” Harvey said. “Deal?”

  “Three’d be better,” Kevin said.

  “Sunshine and good times would be better still,” Harvey said. “Give me a day of sunshine and you’ll get the extra bottle.”

  “Okay, two,” Kevin said. “Now see what you can do for Alex.”

  “Can you use the glasses?” Alex asked.

  “I don’t know,” Harvey said. “There hasn’t been a market for them yet. But I can see how they might come in handy someday. The wallet’s usable.”

  “And a Rolex,” Alex said.

  Harvey shrugged. “A watch is a watch,” he said. “Now that nobody’s clocks are running too well.” He scratched his chin. “Tell you what,” he said. “Seeing as you’re new to the game, and a friend of Kevin, I’ll give you a half dozen cans of mixed vegetables, plus two cans of tuna and a six-pack of water.”

  Alex saw Kevin give his head a quick shake.

  “Look,” Alex said. “I may be new at this, but I’m not stupid. For all I know that water is straight out of the Hudson.”

  “Like I’d do that to a friend of my buddy Kevin,” Harvey protested. “It’s imported all the way from Altoona.”

  “Even if I believe you, and I’m not saying I do, I still want more,” Alex said. “I’ll take all that for the wallet. Now what are you going to give me for these shoes and watches?”

  “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion,” Harvey said, pulling a box of Wheaties out of a carton. “You can tell yourself it’s potato chips, only nutritious. Sprinkle it on the tuna and it’s dinner fit for a king.”

  “The king wants more,” Alex said.

  “Now look,” Harvey said. “This ain’t the A &P. I gotta stay in business, too, you know.”

  “Fine,” Alex said, pulling the wallet back. “I’ll just take all my stuff to an honest businessman.”

  “What’s your hurry?” Harvey said. “Where were we?”

  “One useless six-pack of water,” Alex said, “a half dozen cans of mixed vegetables, two cans of tuna, and a box of Wheaties. What else do you have in real food?”

  “Okay, I’ll throw in a couple of cans of salmon,” Harvey said. “And this time and this time only, a can of chicken noodle soup.”

  Kevin gave Alex an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Deal,” Alex said. He pushed the wallet back and filled his garbage bag with the groceries.

  “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Harvey-said. “Kevin, next time could you bring me a sucker; I gotta live, too, you know.”

  “Oh, admit it, you like the fight,” Kevin said. “See you around, Harvey.”

  “You too, kid,” Harvey said.

  Kevin and Alex left the shop. “Walk fast but not too fast,” Kevin instructed Alex. “People get killed for two bottles of vodka.”

  “You have a gun,” Alex pointed out.

  “Hey, yeah,” Kevin said. “I wonder if it’s loaded.”

  “How come you didn’t trade for food?” Alex asked.

  “Dad brings home the bacon,” Kevin replied. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. He owns a trucking business. Daley Trucks. ‘Rent Weekly. Rent Daley.’ That’s why we’re still here. There’s lots of stuff that needs to get moved out of New York these days. We’re well taken care of.”

  “Who’s the vodka for?” Alex asked.

  Kevin scowled. “My mother,” he said. “She prefers it to chicken soup these days. Dad hasn’t figured that out yet, so I’m the supplier.”

  Alex and Kevin walked back to West End, then down the few blocks in silence, lost in thoughts about their families and their needs.

  “Well, this is it,” Kevin said as they reached Eighty-eighth Street. “Ready to go again tomorrow:”

  “Do you think there’ll be more bodies?” Alex asked.

  Kevin laughed. “We could walk back to Riverside right now and find a couple of new ones,” he said. “They’re dropping like flies.”

  Alex thought about how he and Julie wouldn’t go to bed hungry. “Same time?” he asked.

  “Same time,” Kevin replied. “Don’t want to be late for theology class.”

  “Seven o’clock, then,” Alex said. “Thank you.” “No problem,” Kevin said. “I liked the company. Have a nice supper, Morales.”

  “We will,” Alex said, and for the first time since speaking to Bri, he felt something that approximated happiness.

  Chapter 10

  Monday, August 29

  “Oh Alex!” Julie cried, flinging herself into her brother’s arms and weeping.

  Alex looked down at his little sister. In the three months since everything had happened, he had yet to see, or even hear, his little sister cry. Whine, complain, sulk, scream, and carry on, but never cry. Not when it became obvious neither Mami nor Papi was likely to return. Not when Bri left. Not when she learned Uncle Jimmy had left. Not when she was hungry or lonely or scared. And here she was sobbing for no apparent reason.

  “What happened?” he asked as he gently led her away from Holy Angels. “Did someone die?”

  Julie shook her head, but she continued to cry, and her tears cut into Alex, more even than Bri’s ever had.

  “It’s the garden,” she finally choked out. “We lost everything over the weekend. It’s all gone, all the vegetables. All our vegetables. My string beans. I wanted you to eat my string beans, and now they’re dead.”

  Alex pictured row after row of dead string beans lined up in Yankee Stadium. “You’re crying over string beans?” he asked. “We got a can of string beans last Friday.”

  “I hate you!” Julie cried. “You don’t understand anything.”

  “I understand plenty,” Alex said. “I understand that you’re upset, and I don’t blame you. You worked hard all summer in that garden.” He stopped for a moment, until the rustle of rats got him moving again. “They’ll still feed you lunch, won’t they?” he asked. “It’s not your fault you can’t work.” He tried to control his panic as he worked through the options if Julie no longer got lunch.

  “I don’t know,” Julie sniffed. “I don’t care. I wish I was dead.”

  “No you don’t,” Alex said. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t even think it.”

  “You can’t tell me what to think,” Julie said, but at least she’d stopped crying. “I loved the garden. And it died because it’s so cold. It’s August, and I’m wearing my winter coat and gloves and my garden froze to death. And I hate corpses! I hate them!”

  Alex didn’t blame her. They had just passed one that had been decomposing in front of a pizza place for a week now, its flesh eaten away by rats. At first when the bodies started appearing, they got picked up within a day. But now there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to when the sanitation crews removed bodies. With more people dying and fewer trips to the crematorium, the corpses were becoming part of the city landscape. Good for body shopping but nothing else.

  “If it’s cold like this in August, what’s it going to be like in December?” Julie asked.

  Alex shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But maybe by then they’ll have figured out a way of clearing the ash from the sky. The scientists must be working on that.”

  “I thought they were working on getting the moon back in place,” Julie said.

  “First things first,” Alex said.

  “I hate the scientists,” Julie said. “I hate the cold and the volcanoes and the moon. I hate everything.”

  Alex didn’t bothe
r to correct her because at that moment, he hated everything, too.

  Tuesday, August 30

  Alex walked Julie to Holy Angels that morning, but instead of dropping her off and checking on the five remaining people on his list, he searched out Sister Rita.

  Like everyone else, she seemed older than when he’d seen her last. There was sadness in her eyes, and he realized she must be grieving for the loss of the garden as deeply as Julie.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Sister,” he said. “But I need to know if Holy Angels will still be feeding the girls lunch everyday.”

  “As far as I know,” Sister Rita replied. “At least for the time being.”

  Alex smiled. “That’s good news,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Sister Rita gave Alex a long, hard look. “Your parents never came back, did they?” she said. “Julie doesn’t talk about it, but you’re responsible for her now.”

  Alex nodded warily. “We’re doing fine,” he said. “Briana’s at a convent upstate, and Julie and I have enough to eat. I get lunch at Vincent de Paul, and we’re okay.”

  “I’m not interfering,” Sister Rita said. “Even if I wanted to, if I thought Julie would be better off, nothing’s left. No foster homes, no group homes. At least not in the city. And Julie’s doing as well as she possibly could under the circumstances. She’s a very bright girl and very hard-working. You must be quite proud of her.”

  “Thank you, I am,” Alex said, startled at the idea that Julie was someone to be proud of. But Sister Rita had a point. Julie was tough, and nowadays that was a virtue.

  “For New York to have such a heavy frost in August, that’s very bad,” Sister Rita said. “I think there’s going to be famine throughout the country this winter. Throughout the world. And with famine come epidemics. I think we’re in for horrifying times.”

  Alex thought about his father most likely washed out to sea, his mother most likely drowned in a subway tunnel, his older brother who might or might not have made it to Texas, his uncle and aunt who might or might not have made it to Oklahoma, one sister living with strangers upstate, the other sister surviving on two small meals a day, and decided famine and epidemics were the least of his concerns.