“I needed a place to sleep.”
“Are you homeless?” The boy leaned forward with his arms draped over the porch railing and observed her with eyes that reminded her of a rabbit’s.
“I guess I am.” Smiling, she considered all of the homes that never seemed to last.
The boy turned when the front door creaked open and two young girls walked out. They were just kids, the oldest about twelve and the younger one no older than ten.
“Who are you talking to, Shawn?” the older girl asked.
“This homeless girl,” Shawn answered, gesturing. He turned to Lareina and added, “I’m protecting my sisters until my parents get back.” Shawn clenched his hands into fists, as if ready to fight anyone who walked onto his property.
“Where did your parents go?”
“Austin to find food because we don’t have any,” the younger girl chimed in.
“They left yesterday and we don’t know when they’ll get back, but we’re really hungry,” the older girl explained.
Out of habit Lareina looked down the street behind her, but of course there was no one there. She sat down on the porch steps and unzipped her backpack, then pulled out the loaf of bread and the bag of dried deer meat Sarah had given her a day earlier. Berries and vegetables she’d found along the way had supplied most of her meals, allowing her to conserve the provisions in her bag. With their mouths slightly open, the children fixated on the food.
“I’ll exchange this for some information,” she said, looking at Shawn. “What’s the fastest way to Austin from here?”
“If you walk back out to the main road and take a right, it’s only four miles to the edge of the city, but there’s a lot of fever there.” Shawn seemed proud of his vast knowledge.
Four miles—that was closer than she could have hoped. “Is there a train station?”
He nodded. “Yeah, trains stop in the city all the time, but they might not let people on anymore because they’re in quarantine.”
She extended her hand to Shawn for a firm handshake. “Thank you, sir. You’ve been very helpful.”
Reaching over the railing, she handed the food to the oldest girl. Stifled gasps and astonished smiles eased her regret at giving away an entire week of meals. I can fend for myself and they can’t, she reminded herself as she slipped her backpack onto her shoulders.
“I hope your parents get back safely,” she added before leaving the children behind. As she hurried down the street, away from the cul-de-sac, she hoped to pass a couple walking back toward home, but no one appeared.
Chapter 7
The main road continued for a mile or so until it merged with a cracked highway lined by waist high grass. Rusty green signs pointed Lareina toward her destination. Three miles to Austin, two miles—the faded outlines of numbers counted down. One more mile to food. One more mile to shelter. One more mile to crowds of people to blend into.
Swishing meadows dotted with lonely houses blurred against the horizon until mailboxes, retaining walls, and hundreds of houses surrounded her. A rabbit popped out of an overgrown median, scurried across the street, then disappeared into another wall of grass. Ahead, the tallest points of overpasses and skyscrapers rose against the sky and glittered in the scorching sun.
A man stumbled down the highway toward her. She maintained her course and focused her eyes on the other side of the road.
“You’re going the wrong way,” the man muttered. “Everyone wants out of the city.” He stared straight ahead and talked to shimmering waves of air. “You’ll catch the fever. Thousands of people are already dead. They can’t even keep up with burying the bodies.”
Her pace quickened until she jogged, then broke into a sprint. She needed food and a train station. The man couldn’t be right. The way he acted, he had to be crazy. Up ahead an exit ramp merged with the highway. Out of breath, she held her hands over her head, gasping for air as heat shimmered off the pavement. The city’s tallest buildings obliterated a flawless blue sky with their dark hulking forms. A gray haze hovered over the city like a curtain of death. She could survive on the food she had, maybe scavenge a little more, but if she caught the fever . . .
The fever had been terrorizing the country for about three years and the world longer than that. It didn’t have a season like the flu and although there had been hope for a vaccine it had never become a reality. After the initial outbreak in Asia, some experts believed the danger had passed, but they were wrong. The fever continued to pop up in communities that had been spared at first, wiping out the adult population and creating a leadership vacuum. It was extremely contagious, spreading as easily as the flu and turning communities against each other as each family fought for their own survival.
A patch of wildflowers struggled to grow through thick weeds on the side of the road. Empathizing with the plants, she squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sun that seemed to grow hotter and brighter. Blisters on her feet sent a stinging ache through her body.
I’ll rest for a while, she decided, and when I wake up, I’ll figure out whether it’s safe to enter the city. Lareina walked down the exit ramp and turned right toward distant houses. She followed the road until abandoned structures with rotted siding and loose shutters surrounded her. Which one would make the best shelter? House number one: shattered windows. House number two: half-collapsed roof. House number three: someone sitting on the front steps?
Through the remains of a picket fence, she observed the only other person besides the crazy man she’d encountered all day. Slumped forward with his hands clasped across his knees and his face buried in his arms, he appeared to be asleep or at least resting. Maybe grieving. They can’t even keep up with burying the bodies.
Taking a step back, she cleared her throat loudly. The boy didn’t look up.
“Please don’t be dead,” she whispered as she inched up the narrow front walk, stepping over knee-high weeds sprouting through cracks in the pavement. A few feet away, she paused and cleared her throat again. “Hey, can you help me with directions?”
The boy’s absolute motionlessness argued against hope. A gust of wind ruffled the tips of his brown hair and tugged at the collar of his polo. Her hands grew slippery with sweat, but she couldn’t pull herself away without knowing. After a moment of hesitation, she pressed her hand against his shoulder.
He jumped to his feet like he rested on springs. “What happened? Who are you?” He didn’t sound angry or frightened, just groggy.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Squinting against the sunlight, he studied her through sparkling blue eyes. With a hasty flick of his arm, he pressed a hand over his head, pushing thick hair flat against his scalp. “I must have fallen asleep.”
The boy, who towered over Lareina by almost a foot, let his hand slide down his face then sat on the step where she originally spotted him. His hair sloped, hanging longer on the left side than the right, revealing that his last haircut had probably been his own attempt to maintain a connection to civilization. He stretched his long legs down three steps and leaned back, resting his elbows against rotting planks behind him.
“I’m really sorry, you weren’t moving and I just thought . . .” Her voice disintegrated into the wind.
A smile revealed a row of perfect white teeth. “It’s okay. It’s a relief that someone still shows concern for strangers. I’m Aaron Swanson, by the way.”
“I’m Rochelle Aumont.” Put at ease by Aaron’s confident smile, she sank onto the step beside him. “Are you from Austin?”
“No, but I was in the city yesterday.” The sun spread in long strips between each house, and squirrels chattered noisily in a nearby tree. Aaron’s smile vanished as he peered back at the city. “I used to work with a doctor, so I came to help. They’re turning patients away from the hospital, but they said I don’t have enough training to be of any assistance. They’re just . . .” He took a long breath in and let it out. “They’re just letting people die.�
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“And the trains?” A cloud drifted over the sun.
“The tracks north of town washed out with the storm last week. Some lucky people made it onto southbound trains yesterday, but that’s all over now. The city is under quarantine and last I heard they’re having a hard time finding anyone willing to bring supplies in by train or truck.” Aaron shook his head. “People who’ve already had the fever are extremely unlikely to contract it again, but they’re all too superstitious to believe that medically proven fact. They aren’t brave enough to help others even if their risk of getting sick is less than five percent.”
No train tracks. No food. The air stood still. Lareina squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again, but nothing changed. “So it’s true. The fever is in Austin.”
Leaning forward, he clasped his hands over his knees. “It’s devastating Austin. People are afraid to leave their houses, the sick are being left on front lawns, and bodies are piling up on the sidewalks. But they said I would just get in the way at the hospital.” His voice collected volume then ended abruptly. He stared down at his hands. His shoulders heaved forward with each breath. “What kind of world is this, Rochelle?” he asked in a barely audible whisper. “How can people not even try to help their own family?”
Her life had always been one of fear and uncertainty, even before the fever. Hadn’t people always prioritized their own well-being? Yet the intensity of disbelief in Aaron’s eyes suggested the possibility of something different.
She shook her head. “They see what’s happening, they’ve heard the stories, and they don’t want to die.” A question formed on her lips about his courage to enter an infected city, his daring to work in a hospital filled with contagious patients, but the question didn’t have time to materialize.
A jarring dissonance of shouting reverberated down the street. Birds flapped into the air, and locusts stopped buzzing. The two of them looked at each other, wide-eyed, then down the street in each direction. More shouts, maybe from the next street over. But before she could discuss it with Aaron, the boy sprang to his feet, dashed into the street, and rounded the corner, leaving his bag behind. Picking up both bags, she followed the commotion.
“Where’s your food?” one voice shouted as she drew near.
“Give me your bag,” yelled another.
A string of swearing.
At least three different voices spoke, but there could be others. Lareina paused to pull her bag open and fish around inside for the most valuable item she’d ever stolen. Her hand brushed its cool, smooth surface. Pulling it out, she jogged through a fenceless backyard, both bags bouncing on her back.
As she emerged onto the sidewalk, a circle of six boys taking turns kicking someone on the ground came into view. Aaron approached the circle and shouted something she couldn’t hear over the wild yelling. One tall, broad-shouldered boy from the circle lunged forward and Aaron took a swing at him. The boy blocked Aaron’s punch and shoved him to the ground.
Squeezing her hand tighter around the gun, she aimed at the perfectly clear sky above her, took a shaky breath, and fired. The deafening sound bounced off walls and crashed through the air. Seven sets of eyes turned to her as commotion faded to silence. She aimed the gun at the group of boys and tried to steady her trembling hands.
“Everyone clear the area,” she barked, managing to keep her voice steady. One second, two, three. No one moved. Four seconds, five, six . . . she hoped they didn’t have weapons of their own but didn’t lower her gun. Seven seconds, eight, nine, and one ragged boy backed away, followed by another, then the rest. They vanished around houses and behind fences. The tallest one spat on the ground before picking up a dirty gray backpack and loping off down the street and out of sight.
Forcing her stiff arms to bend, she lowered the gun, slid the safety into place, and zipped it back into her bag. Aaron stumbled to his feet, clutching his shoulder and never taking his eyes off the girl he just met. The other boy lifted his face from the ground. Blood trickled out of his nose and stood out in grotesque red splotches on his face.
“Nick?” She immediately recognized the suspicion in his eyes.
His face twisted into a grimace. “Rochelle?”
Although her stomach turned somersaults at the sight of blood, she nodded. Breath in, breath out. Ignore it and help Nick.
“You two know each other?” Aaron glanced back and forth between them.
A cloud rolled over the sun and the world dimmed. Letting both bags slide to the ground, Lareina knelt next to Nick, trying to examine the extent of his injuries. Bracing his feet against the grass, he slid a few inches away from her.
“We met briefly about a week ago, but only for a day.” She sat back on her heels.
“You never mentioned the gun you keep in your bag,” Nick accused.
She rolled her eyes and reached for his arm, but he pulled it back. “It’s not something I go around bragging about. Plus it just saved your life.”
He winced but managed to sit up on his own. “It saved my life for now.”
“If I wanted you dead I would have just left you in that pit.”
“I can tell you two have a lot to talk about, but I don’t think this is the best place for an argument.” Aaron scanned the landscape, forehead creased with worry.
“Aaron’s right. Nick, are you coming with us or not?” She tried to ignore the blood, but had to look away after a moment.
Nick slouched, blinking his eyes as if someone shined a flashlight into his face. “Yeah, I’ll come,” he surrendered in a sigh of defeat.
Aaron and Lareina retrieved their bags then each took one of Nick’s arms and pulled him to his feet. The three of them lumbered back into the labyrinth of houses.
“All right, which one looks like a good place to spend the night?” Her inspection of each building included a quick check for an intact roof and panes of glass in the windows.
“We’re breaking into someone’s house?” Aaron sounded more intrigued than uncertain.
“Obviously you haven’t known Rochelle for long.”
She ignored Nick even though she wanted to let go of his arm and send him tumbling to the ground. “I’ll unlock the door. We aren’t going to damage anything.”
At the end of the block, an olive green, three-story house stood taller than all of those around it. Bay windows adorned the outside and all glass remained intact. She pulled the boys along, up four steps, and onto the front porch.
Boards creaked under their feet. A gust of wind tinkled through wind chimes hanging beneath the eaves. She examined the lock—a simple one, thankfully—selected a pick from the set she carried in her bag, and in a minute had the door open. An elaborate staircase with a solid wooden banister drew her eye up through a collage of family photos in golden frames that turned a corner at the landing and continued out of sight. The lowering sun beamed through the open door, illuminating a long hallway, glinting off a mirror on the wall, and erasing shadows to reveal doorways on each side of the passage stretching deep into the house.
Nick rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Perhaps he had a headache from the scuffle or more likely developed one from the thought of breaking into another house. Aaron stepped inside, pulling Nick along with him.
“This place is huge. The people who lived here must have been rich.” His feet squeaked against the wood floor. He stopped at a bench in the foyer, lowered Nick onto it, then slipped his own shoes off and pushed them under the bench. “It’s bad manners to tromp around someone else’s house in your shoes, right?”
Lareina nodded and slipped out of her own shoes, crossing the floor in her socks.
“It feels weird to be in someone else’s house without them knowing,” Nick muttered.
Aaron strode to the staircase. “I’m going to find a first aid kit. I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer, he swung around the banister and bounded up the stairs.
His feet creaked lightly through the ceiling overhead. Sh
e knew curiosity would keep him upstairs exploring for a while. At least he could make the best of a bad situation, unlike Nick.
Lareina closed her eyes and flipped a light switch on the wall, but when she opened them, the only light filtered through three rectangles of glass in the front door. The bench creaked when she sat down next to Nick, and she wondered why she even bothered to believe an abandoned house would have electricity.
Nick shifted his weight with a quick, agonized burst of breath. Silence filled the house and stagnated in the air between them.
“I thought you were going to stay in San Antonio?” She just wanted to hear sound, anything, even her own voice.
“So did I,” he groaned. “Obviously that didn’t go according to the plan.”
Turning toward him, she tried to come up with something comforting to say, but even shadowy darkness couldn’t obscure the drying blood. She turned away, focused on the rounded spokes of the banister, and swallowed to calm the gagging feeling rising in her throat.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I just can’t look at blood. Sometimes I throw up when I see it.”
“So you’re not a murderer then?”
A smile brightened his voice. It was a joke rolled into a serious question. He suspected she’d done something terrible, but hadn’t she? She’d accumulated a lifetime of lying, stealing, and cheating people out of money or food.
“Definitely not.” She pictured the blood on Susan’s shirt and shivered.
Silence returned, but not absolute. Every twenty seconds or so a dull drip-drip called out from somewhere close. At first it didn’t even register, but the longer she listened, the faster her heart beat.
“Do you hear that?” she finally whispered.
“Uh-huh, what is it?”
As she shuffled across the floor the beautiful sound became louder and more defined. She leaned against the banister and listened. To the right and under the stairs? She pulled open a little door that led through the paneling under the staircase, and in the limited light made out the shapes of a sink and toilet. A smile formed across her lips as she stepped up to the dripping faucet, twisted the handle, and released a rushing stream of water.
Hope for the Best Page 6