Susan Pfeffer - The Dead And The Gone

"But maybe with the ticket we could find a way out," Julie said. "Ten thousand dollars, Alex. That's so much money. It could get us to a safe place where Bri could get healthy."

Alex knew Bri would never be healthy again. But he was moved that Julie still had some faith in miracles. "I'll talk to Harvey," he said. "I promise."

"I want to go with you," Julie said. "It's my ticket."

"Okay," Alex said. "We'll go to Harvey's on the way to school tomorrow. Now come on, and start making our supper. Spaghetti and clam sauce. A feast for Papi."

"All right," Julie said, reaching out for Alex's hand. "You won't leave me? You promise?"

"I promise," Alex said. "Te amo, hermanita, even if you do drive me crazy."

Julie got up off the bed. "Do you think there's anyplace left in the world with pumpkin pie?" she asked.

"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.