by Ann Pino
Steal Tomorrow
by Ann M. Pino
Steal Tomorrow
Published by Ann M. Pino
Smashwords Edition
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Copyright 2012 by Ann M. Pino
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CHAPTER ONE
Cassie stood in the devastation of the ransacked kitchen. Others had been here before her—young people who were just as hungry, just as desperate. Even the spice rack was empty; a bad sign, since it meant someone was hungry enough to consider cloves and dill weed food.
On the other side of the room, her friend Leila admired a waffle iron. “I’d kill for a waffle,” she said, rubbing away the dust and examining her warped reflection in the aluminum.
“I say we try Quail Heights. There’s nothing else in this neighborhood.”
“There’s gangs on the other side of Callaway Road.”
“There’s gangs here, too.”
“But our gangs know us.” Leila examined her rings, avoiding Cassie’s eyes. “Just because we’re safe here doesn’t mean we wouldn’t need to join a group somewhere else. It might be worse in other parts of town.”
Cassie knew her friend was right. They had tried joining a group before, but the violence of the other young people scared them. They had been without food for two days now, though, and it had been over a week since they last ate anything that quelled their hunger for long. “I’m sure they’re just ordinary kids like us,” Cassie said, pretending an optimism she didn’t feel. “Some of our friends from school are probably still there.”
Leila turned away. “I’m going to check the closets. Maybe I’ll find something good to wear.”
While her friend headed toward the back of the house, Cassie went into the garage. In some houses she had gotten lucky, stumbling upon a cache of MREs or freeze-dried camp food. Such items were usually overlooked by other foragers, most of whom hadn’t had the advantage of growing up with an outdoorsy father and an ex-Mormon mother who believed in storing food for emergencies. Cassie sometimes wondered if her parents would’ve survived had they not been among the first to catch the disease. They owned a wilderness retreat and had the skills and supplies to survive, had they been able to get there before the roadblocks went up and the virus worked its way into their genes.
Grief and anger were luxuries Cassie couldn’t afford if she was to make good on her promise that she would survive this thing. Now that the power plants, pumping stations, and transportation systems had failed, foraging for food and medicine was all that mattered. She searched the dusty garage, where she found lawn chairs and a croquet set, a broken exercise bike, and a freezer she didn’t dare open. Nothing suggested the former inhabitants knew anything more about the outdoors than what could be discovered in their own back yard. There was no hoarded camp food here.
The door opened. In a panic, Cassie reached for the canister of bear repellent at her hip, but it was only Leila.
“Size fourteen. The woman who lived here was a pig.”
It occurred to Cassie to point out that Leila’s mother had worn a size fourteen and Leila’s nipped-in waist and curves were the result of their recent privations and not to any lack of pre-pandemic pizza. Instead she took in her friend’s freshly-painted lips and red silk scarf. “Who are you dressing up for? The rats?”
Leila shook her head and a pair of long earrings jingled. “Maybe in Quail Heights I’ll find me a boyfriend who has a stash of decent food.”
“And maybe there’s an Easter Bunny,” Cassie said. “We’ll wake up and this will have all been a nightmare.”
* * *
Getting to Quail Heights had been easy in the old days, but neither girl had gas for their families’ cars any more, having used it all driving the city for food and medicine in the early days of the Telo. There were no more gasoline deliveries to the gas stations, and they would have done little good anyway, since the pumps needed electricity. Some of the more powerful gangs siphoned fuel from abandoned vehicles and drove the streets looking for food, liquor and trouble, but most kids went on foot or bicycle. Cassie and Leila preferred to walk, since it was easier to carry weapons and trade goods that way.
Among the many hazards of Callaway Road were the packs of stray dogs and semi-feral children hiding in abandoned shops, watching passersby with suspicious eyes. In the burnt-over remains of a strip center, Cassie and Leila saw a gang of younger children poking in the rubble as if some useful treasure might be found in the ruins. A wild-haired boy with a pistol on his hip glared at the girls, daring them to warn him of danger. Leila tightened her grip on her baseball bat and Cassie eased a hand toward her canister of bear repellant. After sizing them up and deciding they weren’t worth harassing, the boy returned to overseeing his gang.
“That must’ve been what we smelled a few nights ago,” Leila said after they were out of earshot.
Cassie nodded, remembering that night of smoky air. “I guess it’s a good thing the weather is getting warmer. At the rate these kids are going, they’ll burn the entire city trying to cook and stay warm at night.”
“I bet a lot of it’s on purpose. They burn things because they’re mad.”
“Maybe they did at first,” Cassie said. “But it’s probably all accidental any more. Those kids back there looked too skinny and hungry to be destroying things just because.” She frowned slightly. “They burn stuff down because they don’t know how to build and watch a fire properly.”
“You could teach them. Put up a sign on Callaway. ‘Use Fire Safely, Ask Me How. Price: One Can of Food.’”
“I don’t know if I want to teach anything to these wild brats.”
“How else are we going to barter for better supplies? Once we’re out of liquor and cigarettes, that’s it for trade goods, unless we want to offer ourselves like those girls we saw in the Wal-Mart parking lot at Christmas.”
“Don’t remind me.”
They had reached the first ring of houses now, but most had burnt months ago. The girls fell silent, fighting the creeping sense that ghosts sheltered in the still and watchful remnants of what had once been a typical subdivision. Here they had gone to birthday parties as children, slumber parties at twelve and thirteen, and here they had met friends for high school football games, dances and pep rallies. They were used to the changes in their own neighborhood, but seeing Quail Heights for the first time since the Telo left them unsettled.
The first intact house had been ransacked, as had the second. “This was a dumb idea,” Leila said. She shivered even though the afternoon wasn’t cold.
At the third house they found a bag of dried beans, overlooked where it had fallen on the pantry floor and been covered by some paper grocery sacks. “It’ll take all night to soak these,” Cassie said. “But at least we’ll eat tomorrow.”
Leila picked up a silver bracelet, dropped and stepped on in some earlier forager’s departure. She held it to the light, then placed it on her wrist and fiddled with the clasp. “If we go back now and start soaking them, we may be able to eat tonight.”
“Let’s finish the block,” Cassie said. “Then we’ll go back, whether we find anything else or not.”
Two houses later, they did find something, but not what they were expecting.
* * *
“Here, kitty, kitty.”
It was a male voice on the other side of the closed door of the master bedroom.
“Let’s go,” Cassie whispered.
Leila shook her head. “He’s trying to catch a cat. I bet he’s going to eat it.”
“Another week like we’ve been having and we may be doing the same thing.”
“I thought you cared about animals.”
“That was before we were starving. Come on.”
“No. You’re the one always talking about principles, and eating pets is wrong.” Leila threw the door open and a blur of black and white streaked past her feet.
In the middle of the room, a young man stood up. He wore military fatigues and a leather vest. Long brown hair brushed his shoulders and looked surprisingly clean. “What did you do that for?” He took a step toward them, but his expression was more of frustration than hostility.
“Was that your cat?” Leila’s tone made it clear she knew precisely what he had been doing.
“Are you from PETA or something? It was going to be dinner.” He scanned her face, then Cassie’s, lapsing into an attitude of wary patience. “It’s okay, I’ve got others.” He gestured toward a bulging backpack.
While Leila backed away, her lip curling in disgust, Cassie asked why he needed so many. “They’ll rot before you can eat all of them, and it’s not right to kill what you won’t use.”
“They’ll get used.” The young man held out his right arm, displaying a blue suede gauntlet that had the uneven look of something made by hand. “I’m with the Regents. There’s about fifty of us living on the north side of Main at the Regency Hotel.”
“This is a long way to forage.”
He picked up the pack and slung it onto his back. “It’s hard to keep a big group fed.”
As he walked out the door, Leila called after him. “Eat your own goddamn strays!”
He stopped and took a few steps back. “Why? Are you planning to eat the ones around here yourself?”
While Leila sputtered for an answer, he turned to go. Cassie ran after him.
“What now?”
“Is your group going to be here long? You’re not trying to take this place over, are you? I mean….” She rested a hand on her canister of bear repellent. “We’re sorry we scared the cat. We don’t want trouble.”
He smiled, and it was a friendly smile. “We don’t bother girls who don’t bother us. Regents policy. And mine.”
“What’s your name?”
He hesitated. “Jay Gallard, but they’ve been calling me Galahad. What’s yours?”
“Cassie Thompson.”
“Cassie, like Cassandra? The one who knew the Trojans were going to die?”
“Just Cassie.”
He jerked his shoulders and adjusted the backpack. “Well, Cassie, good luck to you. And to your friend the kitty-lover.”
EXCERPT FROM CASSIE’S JOURNAL:
Leila and I tried Quail Heights today, but didn’t get much. We met a nice-looking guy, though. I saw how he looked at Leila and it made me jealous. Starvation suits her, whereas I probably could pass for some old farmer’s scarecrow.
Actually, I have no idea what I look like any more, except I keep getting thinner. Each place we move to, the first thing I do is make Leila cover the mirrors. She hates it when I do that. Now that she’s skinny like her older sisters were, she wants to see herself every chance she gets. I can’t stand to look in the mirror, though. I’m not sure why.
But now I wonder if I still look okay, or if I’m scary, or what. It’s a stupid thing to care about when I don’t know where my next meal is coming from. There’s certainly no point in being pretty for anyone. Not even for Galahad. I’ll probably never see him again and besides, he’s in a gang that eats pets. I told Leila we might have to do the same if we don’t find real food soon, but I don’t think I could do it for real. Dad used to say “never say never,” especially when it comes to survival situations, but I’m pretty sure he never thought I’d have to deal with something like this.
CHAPTER TWO
Two days later Galahad startled Cassie in the garage of a house near the freeway. She had found a stash of camp food and clutched a mylar pouch to her chest. “Finders, keepers. I think there’s a tabby around here, though.”
Galahad came closer. “What is that?”
“Please, it’s been twenty-four hours since our last meal. If I give you some cigarettes, will you go away?”
“I don’t smoke.” He took one of the packets and examined it. “I had no idea they made these. Is this where you usually find them? In garages?”
Cassie hesitated. Did she want to take a chance he might steal supplies she would’ve found for herself? The friendliness in his eyes weakened her resolve. “Yes, and in campers, basements, and other places where people keep their wilderness gear.”
He handed back the packet. “My family didn’t do any camping. I would’ve never guessed to look for food in a garage.”
“What were you looking for, then? Pets?”
“Tools. We need another hex set. The last one went missing.”
This was something Cassie didn’t mind helping with since she already had plenty of tools. “Try forty-three eleven across the street. I saw hex wrenches there in all sizes.”
“You know what one is?”
“Do you think just because I’m a girl I only know about lipstick? I’m a certified wilderness survival expert and was signed up for a night class in auto mechanics at the community college before…you know.”
Galahad gazed at her with renewed interest. “So was that just what you were into, like some girls used to do ballet?”
“My dad was into backpacking and my mom grew up LDS. She didn’t believe in the Book of Mormon, but she thought they had the right idea about storing things for hard times.”
“Well, you must’ve learned a lot. Your hair and clothes look clean. You don’t even stink.”
“Basic hygiene isn’t hard, and every house is full of clothes. It's no big deal to get clean ones when we want them.”
“Yeah, but my group forages all over the city, and most kids don’t even try to live like humans any more. It’s like they’ve all reverted to the Neolithic.”
“Why do you think I’m not with a group? My parents made me promise not to forget how I was raised. They said I should hold on as long as I could, in case someone finds a cure.” She looked away. “As if. Seems pretty stupid to think anyone is left to find a cure.”
Galahad swiped a hand through his hair. “Listen, would you like to join our group? Regents could use someone like you.” When she hesitated, he added, “There’s safety in numbers and we’re an okay bunch. You’ll at least get to eat.”
“Eat what? Cats?”
“Not always. There’s enough of us to forage that the others can stay behind and work on safety, heating, and things like that. Division of labor is what makes people civilized. Without it, we’re just animals.”
Cassie considered. A lot of the gangs were wild and violent, but that didn’t mean they all were. It was becoming clear that she and Leila didn’t stand a chance as independent foragers. “Can my friend come, too?”
“The kitty-lover? Sure.”
She found Leila, and once Galahad assured her that the Regents’ menu didn’t always feature household pets, she felt a little better about the proposition. “It’ll be nice to have a group to share the work,” she admitted.
“So how do we get to your place?” Cassie said. “Can we stop and pick up some of our things?”
“Our forage leader is at the end of the block. We'll ask.”
* * *
The forage leader was a wiry young man named David. He wore his greasy hair tied into three separate tails
and his dark eyes were rimmed in charcoal, giving his face the appearance of a skull. It was a look that had been favored by one of the teen gangs that rampaged through the city during the final days of the die-off. Before Cassie could register her concern, Leila gasped. “Are you a member of—”
“KDS?” David’s eyes met hers in challenge. “Yeah, I used to run with the Kevorkian Death Squad, but my friend here,” he gestured toward Galahad, “Convinced me to change my ways. At least for now.”
Galahad looked up from rearranging some boxes in the back of the van. “Killing people is no way to live.”
“I’ll remember you said that and I’ll use it against you.” David’s lips twitched, as if he knew a secret.
“So are the Kevorks still around?” Cassie asked. “We heard they disbanded after there were no more grownups to kill.”
“That’s true. Once they ran out of adults, the younger ones started killing the older ones. People dropped out fast and now everyone who’s still alive is with some other group. Regents are kind of goody for my taste,” his gaze flicked toward Galahad who was still working with his head down, pretending not to listen. “But they suit my purposes.” He smiled and in spite of his intimidating appearance, it was a boyish grin that made Cassie want to smile, too. “I hear you’ve got tools, propane and water filters.”
“Yes,” Cassie said cautiously. “I have some survival gear from my parents. Can you take us home to pack?”
“Girls with goods can always have a ride.” He waved them toward the shuttle, but from the way his gaze lingered on Leila’s hips, Cassie suspected his words had more than one meaning. She would have to warn her friend not to get too comfortable with these guys.
It was with a mixture of relief and regret that the girls loaded their most necessary items into the Regents’ battered hotel van. It would be good to have the safety of a group and escape the memories of their suburban neighborhood. Cassie tucked a family photo album into her duffel bag, but it was with the guilty knowledge that she hadn’t opened it in months and would probably be unable to do so ever again.