“I hope so,” Alex said. It didn’t seem like too much to ask for.
Thursday, November 10
Julie bounced all the way to Harvey’s. “I hope we can go someplace warm and sunny,” she said. “Maybe we should go to Texas and find Carlos.”
Alex wanted to warn her not to get her hopes up, but there had been so few moments the past six months where Julie had something to hope for that he couldn’t find it in him to discourage her. Besides, maybe finding the lottery ticket on Papi’s birthday was a miracle. The Morales family was certainly due for one.
Harvey hadn’t gotten his weekly food delivery, and the store was almost empty. “This is it?” Julie asked doubtfully as Alex escorted her.
“It’s busier on Fridays,” he told her.
“Alex,” Harvey said. “Pleasure to see you. And who might this be?”
“Harvey, this is my sister Julie,” Alex said. “Julie, this is Harvey.”
Harvey smiled. Alex noticed he’d lost a tooth since he’d seen him last week. He’s rotting away, Alex thought, the same as the city.
“We have something,” Julie said. “Something valuable. Don’t we, Alex.”
“Very valuable,” Alex said.
“We want to trade it for a way out of New York,” Julie said. “For me and Alex and Bri.”
“Who’s Bri?” Harvey asked.
“My sister,” Julie said. “She has asthma, so it’s important we go someplace where the air’s better and she can get well. Someplace warm and nice. And she can’t walk very much, so it has to be easy to get there.”
“That’s quite the order,” Harvey said. “I know the kind of stuff you usually bring in, Alex. Nice things, don’t get me wrong, but nothing worth an all-expense-paid trip to paradise.”
“Should I show him?” Julie asked, but before Alex had a chance to say yes or no, she pulled the lottery ticket out of her pocket and waved it around. “It’s an instant lottery ticket worth ten thousand dollars!” she cried. “Is that valuable enough?”
Harvey took the ticket from Julie’s hand. He looked it over carefully, then put it on the counter.
“It must be worth something,” Alex said. “What do you think you could get for it?”
Harvey laughed. “Six months ago, it would have been worth ten thousand,” he said. “Maybe even five months ago. But now, it’s not worth the paper it’s printed on.”
“Why?” Julie said. “It’s a winning lottery ticket. New York has to pay.”
“Sweetheart, New York don’t care,” Harvey said. “You understand, Alex. No one’s using money anymore. It’s all food and gas and connections.”
“Someone must want it,” Julie pleaded. “We don’t want real money for it. |ust a safe way out of New York.”
“You can still get out of the city,” Harvey said. “They’re still evacuating.”
“It isn’t the getting out that’s the problem,” Alex said, although he knew that was only partly true. “It’s going someplace safe, where Bri can get medical help.”
Harvey shook his head. “That’d take a lot more than a lottery ticket,” he said. “There are places like that, but you have to know someone to get in. You have to have the connections.”
“Can we get anything for the ticket?” Alex asked. He didn’t want to deal with Julie if they left empty-handed.
Harvey looked at the ticket. “You know I like you, Alex. You drive a hard bargain, and I respect that. I don’t cheat you. For you, a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup.”
“No,” Julie said, grabbing the ticket from him. “We’ll take the ticket to someone else. Someone who can help.”
“Sweetie, there is no one else,” Harvey said. “I’m the last of a dying breed. Look, I’ll throw in a can of pineapple. That should be a real treat.”
Alex thought about the can of pineapple. Bri loved pineapple. “Julie,” he said. “Pineapple. It’s almost as good as pumpkin pie.”
“I hate you!” Julie cried, and ran out of the store.
“Julie,” Alex said. “Harvey, I’m sorry. You know girls that age. Everything’s a crisis.”
“How old is she?” Harvey asked.
“Thirteen,” Alex said.
Harvey nodded. “Teenagers,” he said. “Look, take the pineapple. It’s crazy for me to give anything away nowadays, but if it’ll make her feel better, it’s worth it.”
“Thank you,” Alex said, taking the can. “I really appreciate this, Harvey.”
“No problem,” Harvey said. “See you tomorrow? I’m expecting some good stuff.”
Alex thought of the diminishing stock of liquor and sweaters and nodded. “Late morning,” he said. “After the food line.”
“Best time,” Harvey said. “I’ll hold something for you.”
“I appreciate it,” Alex said. “Thanks for the pineapple. And I apologize again for Julie. She had her hopes up.”
“Things are tough all over,” Harvey said. “Must be real rough having a sick little sister.”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “Real rough. Thanks again. See you tomorrow.” He walked out of the store, but Julie was nowhere to be seen.
Idiota, Alex thought. Storming off. Things didn’t go just the way she wanted, and she had to make a big dramatic gesture. He was tempted to go to school and leave her to her own devices. Let her go home and slam the damn bedroom door. Bri could deal with her. Even better, he and Bri could share the pineapple and let Julie miss out. That would show her.
Alex shook his head. Living with a thirteen-year-old was making him think like one. He needed to find Julie. Whether she’d gone to school or home, it was downtown from Harvey’s. He’d catch up with her and give her a lecture about running off. Tonight they’d have the pineapple. That would make all of them feel better.
He was so used to the quiet on the streets that at first he didn’t recognize the sound when he heard it. The words we’re muffled, but it was a girl’s voice, and it was full of fear.
His first thought was to run, to catch up with the sound, because he knew it was Julie and someone had grabbed her. But what good would it do if he just ran up to them? Whoever had Julie might be armed, and even if he wasn’t, Alex wasn’t in condition for a street fight. There were no cops around. Hell, there was no one around, just rats and corpses. And someone who’d grabbed his sister.
Alex took off his shoes, so he wouldn’t be heard, and began running toward the sounds. He spotted a large man on Ninety-first Street, dragging Julie toward the park while she struggled to break free.
“Let me go!” she yelled.
The man laughed. “Nobody’s here,” he said. “Stop fighting.”
“Alex!” she screamed. “Alex!”
The man laughed even louder.
Alex had crept as close as he dared behind the man.
Julie tried to kick him. “Help!” she cried. “Someone help me!”
“You’re pissing me off,” the man said. “You’re going to pay for that.”
Alex figured he had gotten as close as he could without being noticed. He had one shot and he knew his aim had to be perfect, since the man was wearing a heavy winter coat and wouldn’t feel a thing from his neck to his feet. David and Goliath, he said to himself, then threw the can of pineapple directly at the back of the man’s head. Bull’s-eye. The man let go of Julie as he howled in pain.
“Julie, run!” Alex yelled.
Julie turned around and saw him. She began running as fast as she could. The man bent over and grabbed the can of pineapple.
“Next time,” he said.
Alex gathered Julie in his arms, and pulled her back to Broadway. The man didn’t follow them, but they kept running anyway. By the time they entered their building, they were coughing so hard they had to sit for a few minutes before they could move.
Once they could breathe, Alex grabbed Julie by her shoulders and shook her. “Don’t ever do that!” he yelled. “Don’t ever go off by yourself!”
“I know. I’m sor
ry.” She sobbed. “Alex, I was so scared. I’ll never do it again, I swear. Never.”
Alex let her go. His throbbing toes were half frozen. To distract himself from thinking about the agony of walking up twelve flights of stairs, he concentrated on what might have happened to his sister. She was worth the pineapple. She was worth the pain.
“Do me a favor,” he said. “Go upstairs and get my other shoes. They’re in the hall closet. If Bri’s up, tell her…” He tried to come up with a reason why he’d need a different pair of shoes. “Tell her I got dead rat all over my shoes.”
“No!” Julie said. “I’m not going into the stairwell alone. I won’t.”
“No one’s in the stairwell,” Alex said. “Now, do it.”
Julie shook her head. “I won’t go in there alone,” she said.
Alex’s feet throbbed. He told himself to calm down. It would be a mistake to send Julie upstairs anyway. She’d tell Bri everything, and that would bring on an attack, and Julie-would run down to get him and he’d still have to climb the twelve flights. He didn’t want to think about what might happen if the attack was really bad.
“All right, I’ll go,” he said. “You wait here.”
“No,” Julie said. “I’ll go upstairs with you. In case he comes back.”
“Whatever,” Alex said. “I don’t care. Just keep quiet, and don’t ever tell Bri what happened.”
Julie nodded. “I won’t tell Bri,” she promised. “Just don’t ever leave me, Alex.”
Chapter 14
Friday, November 11
Veterans Day. Alex had forgotten all about it. He and Kevin had gone to the food line only to find out it had been canceled. All he’d been able to get from Harvey was one of the cans of chicken soup and a badly dented can of string beans. And he was down one pair of shoes.
It was impossible to sleep. Alex grabbed the flashlight, got off the sofa bed, and stumbled into the kitchen. They kept everything there, the food and whatever little they still had for bartering. Maybe if he made a list, he’d feel better. Maybe if he searched through every kitchen cabinet, he’d find an unexpected box of something or a can or a five-course dinner tucked away under a spare blanket.
He couldn’t even find the spare blanket. Having Bri home meant they’d had to barter almost everything they’d gotten from the other apartments.
Alex thought, not for the first time, how ironic it was that they were living in a sixteen-story building and could only get into four apartments. Five, if you counted their old one. New York City apartments had steel doors and multiple locks, and even though as best he could tell from the lack of sound and the stench of death, everyone was gone and he and his sisters were the only ones living there, they still couldn’t get into the deserted apartments.
In spite of himself, he found a piece of paper and a pen and began making a list. Lists no longer comforted him, but he made them anyway when he couldn’t sleep. There was no point making a list of what they had, since they didn’t have anything. There was no point in making a list of what they would need, since they needed everything. There was no point, but he still made a list.
gone, he wrote on the top of the paper.
Papi
Mami
Carlos
Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lorraine and their girls
Chris Flynn
Tony
Alex stared at the list and realized he’d barely scratched the surface. There were Uncle Carlos and Aunt Maria, Uncle Jose and Aunt Irene, who’d been with Papi in Milagro del Mar for Nana’s funeral. All his cousins were gone. So were the priests from Vincent de Paul, the lay teachers, and the rest of the school staff. His onetime friend Danny O’Brien, plus practically everybody else he’d gone to school with. Mr. Dunlap. Bob, who he never had the chance to swap stories with. Joey from the pizza parlor and the guys he worked with there and the customers who made small talk and left small tips. The New York Yankees. He’d been to their stadium more recently than they had, he guessed. St. John of God Hospital, where
Mami was so excited to get her first job as an operating room technician. Gone. All gone. There wasn’t enough paper left in the world to write down everybody and everything that was gone.
What difference did it make, he asked himself. All that mattered was that there was enough food for his sisters to make it until Monday. How long could a can of chicken soup and a dented can of string beans last? Why didn’t he throw his shoes at that guy, and keep the pineapple for himself.
Saturday, November 12
“Where’s the radio?” Alex asked, after searching the living room for it. If he’d been listening to the radio more regularly, he would have realized Friday was a national holiday and prepared for the possibility of no food line. His sisters’ survival depended on his knowing as much as possible.
Julie and Bri exchanged glances.
“What?” he said to Julie. “You got rid of it? You traded it for lipstick? It’s my radio and I need it, and you had no business even touching it.”
“You always blame me for everything!” Julie cried. “I hate you!” She raced into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“I’m sick and tired of her doing that,” Alex said. “Now what the hell did she do to my radio?”
“She didn’t do anything,” Bri said. “I did. It’s all my fault.” “Don’t take the blame for her,” Alex said. “That won’t help Julie any.”
“But it is my fault,” Bri said. “When you go to school, it gets so lonely in here. So I turn on the radio. I don’t even care what they say. I just want to hear voices. And sometimes I fall asleep and I forget to turn the radio off. The batteries died last week. I’ve been scared to tell you.”
Alex tried to remember if there were any more C batteries lying around. He was pretty sure he’d bartered them all.
“I’m sorry,” Bri said. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
Get healthy, he thought. Get strong enough so we can leave this hellhole.
“You do enough every day just being here,” he said. “I’ll go apologize to Julie now.”
Monday, November 4
Alex met Kevin outside the building at seven in the morning, the way they always did on Mondays to go body shopping. It was getting harder to find good ones, but Alex needed whatever he could get.
“I guess you’ll be going soon,” Alex said. “Someplace safe.”
Kevin shrugged. “I’m in no hurry,” he said.
“You’re crazy, you know that:” Alex said. “Where will you go?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Mom won’t leave without Dad, and there’s still a lot of stuff to truck out of the city. It’ll be awhile.”
“But when you leave, it won’t be for an evacuation center,” Alex said. “You’ll go someplace good.”
Kevin looked as uncomfortable as Alex had ever seen him. “I asked Dad about you,” he said. “And your sisters. Right after Julie’s party. He said the evac centers weren’t that bad, that you’d be okay there.”
“Thanks anyway,” Alex said. “I wasn’t expecting you to rescue us.”
“He doesn’t care,” Kevin said. “Not about Mom. Not about me. If he did, he would have made us leave months ago. That’s how you know if people really love you. The ones who do let you go.”
Friday, November 18
Alex, Kevin, and Julie spent five hours on the food line and ended up with enough food for the weekend, maybe Monday. Alex carried the food upstairs, then took three of Papi’s cans of beer and the last bottle of scotch. He’d been holding off trading Papi’s beer for as long as he could, but times were getting desperate. He was used to not eating supper, and Julie could get used to it if she had to, but there had to be some food for Bri.
He looked in on Bri, lying in the sleeping bag, covered with blankets. She smiled at him.
“I can’t wave,” she said. “It’s too hard to get my arms out of here.”
“Don’t bother,” he said. “Stay warm. I�
��ll be back in a little while with more food.”
“Take care,” she said. “I love you, Alex.”
“Love you, too,” he said.
Alex put the liquor in his backpack, then put on the heavy wool coat Greg or Bob had left behind in June when nobody thought about constant cold. He was glad he’d held on to it. All the other coats were gone.
He was more nervous than usual walking toward Harvey’s, and he tried to make himself laugh by thinking of the beer cans as weapons. There’d been no sight of the guy who’d tried to take Julie, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still around.
But he made it without incident to Harvey’s, and he was pleased to see Harvey hadn’t lost any more teeth during the week.
“I brought you my best stuff,” Alex said, unloading the backpack.
Harvey nodded thoughtfully. “I can always count on you, Alex,” he said. “I got a half dozen cans of mixed vegetables, and look at this, four juice boxes—remember those?—and a nice bag of rice.”
“That’s a start,” Alex said, falling into the now-comfortable ritual. “I might trade the scotch for that. What’ll you give me for the beer?”
Harvey laughed. “I love ya, kid,” he said. “Okay, I’ll throw in two of my best cans of spinach, and just because I like you, a can of lima beans.”
“I hate lima beans,” Alex said, remembering a time when he wouldn’t even eat them.
“Sorry,” Harvey said. “Want some mushrooms instead?”
Lima beans were more filling. “I’ll stick with the lima beans,” Alex said. “What else?”
“You’re killing me,” Harvey said. “Okay, for you, the last known box of Cheerios.”
“Deal,” Alex said. Between the Cheerios and the rice, they’d all be able to make it for a week or more.
“Hold on, hold on.” Harvey said. “I got another proposition for you.”
“Sure, what?” Alex said, not that anything was going to be better than Cheerios.
“I didn’t want to say anything last Friday, till I asked around,” Harvey said. “See what I could find for you and your sick sister. Someplace safe and easy to get to, right?”
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